#dusting off this account oh my goodness

[salaad]

PIZZAHEAD!! ^_o^

they are from months ago but deciding to post for a while !! the style changes lot apologies sobs !! was going funky with it when drawing him from day to day lole, but hes my favorite character i think he deserves to be hit with hammers (filter alt below of the 4th img!)

[emmyrosee]

“Oh my god, this guy is soooo hot.”

Immediately in your peripheral, a spiky head of hair instantly whips towards you, golden eyes wide and curios when they stare intently at you. “Who?” Koutaro asks, voice hiked with only the slightest bit of jealousy.

“Oh, just this guy on my Instagram feed,” you say, as if trying to brush it off. Your eyes flick back to koutarou, who’s mentally going through your followers lists to see who you could be talking about.

“Who?” He asks again. You snicker and try to bite it back with a cough.

“Just- just this guy, like he’s sooooo handsome.”

“What guy?” Koutaro has now taken the liberty of crawling towards you, only rather than jealousy and panic, his eyes are now shiny with intrigue. “I want to see the handsome guy!”

You tuck your phone away and cock a brow, “you want to see him?”

He offers you a shrug, “I like handsome men too; why do you think I hung around Kuroo so much in high school?”

“Kuroo’s handsome?”

“You DONT think Kuroo’s handsome?!”

“No, I think Akaashi’s handsome.”

“No, Akaashi’s beautiful.”

For a moment, the man on your phone is forgotten as you stare at each other, brows quirked before breaking down into a fit of shared laughter, your head thunking against his chest while his arms tossed around you, keeping you close. When you both manage to control yourselves, he nudges you again, “come on! I want to see the eye candy!”

You finish your giggles before moving yourself and your phone towards him, but rather than an Instagram post or account, it’s your camera, flipped towards you both. Koutarou’s cheeks dust pink and he strikes a wild smolder at the camera.

“You’re right,” he says, whistling at himself. “That’s one handsome guy. Damn. He’s too handsome-“ he’s now taken the liberty of pushing back slightly to flex his arms and shoulders, “-devilishly good looking; bet he’s got tons of people falling at his feet, he’s so handsome.”

“More handsome than Kuroo?”

Koutarou scoffs and shakes his head, “way, way more handsome than Kuroo.”

With that, he quickly wraps his arms around you and tugs you close to smother you in kisses, wet and noisy along your cheeks and head, and in your fit of laughter and squeals, your thumb slips and takes more than a few pictures, full of laughter and squirms and they’re perfect. You couldn’t have asked for better pictures.

And it’s worth the explanation to Kuroo when Koutarou posts those same pictures hours later, with the caption “say I’m much more handsome than @vlblmngr, not as cute as @a.kaashikeiji”

[4unnyr0se]

❥ librarian | chuuya nakahara

warnings: fem! reader, meet cute, chuuya is a flirt bc i said so, wined and dined, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, bedroom sex, hickeys, making out, hair pulling, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, rough sex, whiny chuuya, corruption kink(?), reader does not know how to dress to save her life, sugar daddy(?) chuuya, unironic lip biting, chuuya is one hell of a chef, dirty talk, reader reads smut, semi-proofread

MDNI | 18+ content

word court -> 4.7k

“Excuse me, could you keep your voice down, please? It’s a library…” was something that you said more often than you would like to admit. Sure, you only took the library job because of how insanely introverted you were, but that was neither here nor there. You thought that people would have more respect for a place that let you borrow as many books as you wanted, but nope. It was either filled with screaming children, teenagers kissing in the nonfiction section, or the elderly who didn’t know how to open their email accounts, bless them.

Other than the constant shushing (and the resulting glares you get from people you’ve shushed), the library job was nice. It was comforting, it had decent pay, and you got to keep some of the books that no one wanted to check out anymore. Hell, you even got hit on once or twice by freakishly tall men. Then again, all men were freakishly tall in your eyes. You fit the tiny librarian stereotype quite well, which your fellow librarians found to be adorable. 

Standing in the true crime section, your heeled feet stood on a step stool so you could better organize books about mafia activity in past decades. It wasn’t a very popular section by any means, mostly because the locals that frequented the library thought that true crime a was bit too niche. You didn’t mind really, it just meant that you got to be on the opposite side of the building and away from the screaming children. Often you wondered what it would be like to be a witness to a mafia hit, how the adrenaline pumping in your veins would make you feel. Lost in your train of thought, you neglected to notice that you were slowly slipping off of the step stool, the backings of your high heels teetering off the edge. It wasn’t a steep drop by any means but it would hurt pretty damn badly if you fell. 

Taking an ignorant step back, the back of your heel found nothing to land on. Yelping slightly, you spread your arms out and waved them back and forth in what was probably the world's weakest attempt at flying. “Oh shit-” you closed your eyes shut and braced for impact, hoping that you wouldn’t land on the sharp metal bookshelves behind you.

The impact never came. Instead, you felt a warm embrace of someone holding you. You opened up one eye carefully, your baby hairs covering your forehead. 

“Hey, you okay?” A deep and raspy voice snapped both of your eyes open, your gaze landing on a head of ginger hair. The man smirked at you and let you down, making sure you didn’t have any scratches by scanning your body up and down. Or maybe he was checking you out, who knows?

“Uh, yeah. I think I’ll be fine.” You nodded, dusting off your pants. No scuffs on the expensive fabric, thank God. “Thanks for making sure I didn’t hit my head, by the way. Not everyone would do that.”

The man crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, giving you a questioning look. “You must work with some real assholes then. In my line of work, ladies don’t get treated like crap. At least the ones who everyone respects.”

“Seriously? Damn, that seems like a really good job.” You smiled at him, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear.

“Eh…it has some setbacks. I won’t get into it now, too much bullshit to unpack here.” He bit the inside of his cheek, holding out his hand for you to shake. It was gloved, he seemed like a gentleman. Or maybe he just really didn’t like getting dirt on his hands.

You smiled and eagerly took his hand, looking into his subtly blue eyes. They really complimented his ginger hair and pale complexion, hell, he even looked like the main character in a popular romance novel. 

“Chuuya Nakahara, at your service.” He smirked once more, letting go of your hand. He noticed that your hands were smaller than his own, in fact, you were actually smaller than he was. And that was rare, considering he was in close competition with most middle schoolers in the height category. “What’s your name? I wanna know the name of the women I saved from eating absolute shit.”

You giggled and told him your name, putting your hands in your pockets. Chuuya thought your giggle was sweet, like a song bird. It was a welcome sound in his life. After all, Chuuya was used to gunshots and screams instead of the giggling of a cute librarian with a name that fitted her oh so right. 

“You got a cute name, y’know. Hope you don’t mind me sayin’ that.” Chuuya placed his hands in his pockets as well, fiddling with the lintballs in the corners of the expensive fabric. 

The silent was quite awkward between the two of you. Chuuya, a secret mafia boss who’s experience with women was tainted with expensive red wine. And yourself, a librarian who was so introverted that the world could end and you’d jump for joy. 

And yet, something brought the two of you out of your own little worlds and into each others? Was it love, perhaps? Unlikely. Chuuya thought that love at first sight was for suckers, and you thought that love at first sight only existed in movies.

No, there was only unspoken desires between you both. Heart rates quickening, blushes forming on your faces. Chuuya’s mind was racing, his thoughts plagued by images of you. He just met you but god were you sexy. That fucking thrifted turtleneck sweater contrasted hard with your expensive designer jeans that were no doubt a Christmas gift from a wealthy relative. You had no idea how to dress and Chuuya thought that was the most precious thing. Were you really that innocent, locked away in your own little world? You probably had no idea that your sweater hugged the curves of your tits perfectly, that your pants showed off your thighs so expertly. God, it drove Chuuya wild.

What did your lips feel like, so plump and perfect? Where they untained, fresh as snow? Or were you just putting on an act, secretly a vixen behind that innocent and soft stare? Chuuya didn’t know, but he just had to find out. The redhead had only just met you but holy fuck, you were simply perfect. He had to get a taste, even if it was the last thing he did. 

“So what’s a pretty thing like you workin’ in a place like this? Do they pay you well or somethin’?” Chuuya asked, leaning against the metal shelving that held the American history collection.

You shook your head and sighed, placing a hand on your hip in frustration. “Unfortunately no, I could really use a raise.” You sighed, running a hand through your comically messy hair. “The only reason I can afford my apartment is that my parents left me quite a bit of money when I said I wanted to live on my own. I’m a lucky person, I guess.” You chuckled at the last bit, flashing Chuuya a smile that drove him crazy. He faked a cough to hide the obvious lump growing in his throat, a tinge of pink dusting his freckled face. 

“Yeah, you really are lucky.” He took a step foreward, placing his thumb on your chin, tilting your head up ever so slightly so his eyes met your own. “And you’re really fucking pretty.” He whispered, taking his hand off your chin. 

“O-oh, thank you.” You stammered, fidgeting with your fingers as you looked down at your feet. The Mary Jane’s you wore wree slightly scuffed, they always have been. It adds a bit of character, one could say. Chuuya smiled softly and adjusted his hat, taking a step back to give you space.

“Listen, I have work that I gotta get back to or else my boss will kill me. Can we meet up at your place after that. Y’know, only if ya want to. I’m no pusher.” He blushed at the last part, rubbing the back of his neck to avoid making direct eye contact with you. It was strange, Chuuya has always been smooth with the women he met in bars. So why were you making him so flustered? Maybe it was because unlike the girls he picked up before, you were innocent. Pure, like fresh snow. 

You were taken aback by his flirtations, though they weren’t unwelcome. You stopped fidgeting with your fingers for a moment, biting down on the plumpness of your lower lip.

“What, cat got your tongue or something?” Chuuya grinned, proud of himself for his little joke.

N-no, well not exactly.” You mumbled, sucking in a deep breath so you could look at the devilishly handsome man in front of you. “I’ve, God this is embarrassing, I haven’t been on a date since college.” Sighing, you stared at the bookshelf next to you. “It’s pathetic, I know. I get if you aren’t interested in me anymore.”

Chuuya frowned and took his hands out of his pockets, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t give a fuck if you’ve been on zero dates or a million of them. That doesn’t matter. I asked if you wanted me to come over so I can fuckin’ cook for you.”

“You can cook?”

“What kind of world are you living in? Of course I cook, what kind of man can’t cook?” Chuuya pinched his temple with his fingers, silently cursing all the worlds incompetent men that drove the standard to decency so low that it was practically in hell. “Sorry, didn’t mean to shout at ya. Old habits.”

“Don’t worry about it, I deal with screaming children all day. You’re fine.” You smile, taking out your phone. “Here, put your number in and I’ll give you my address.”

Chuuya shook his head, a bead of sweat dripping from his brow. “Actually, um, my phone is broken right now. How about you just write it down for me, dollface?” He couldn’t risk putting your information into his phone, what if Mori was going through it? He could deem you a security risk and then only God knows what would happen. Chuuya wouldn’t risk it, he had to make sure you were okay with his…business before he did anything too personal like give you his contact information. 

“Oh, sure. I guess giving you my number is too personal, sorry.” You awkwardly chuckled, leading him to the main library desk. You ripped off a sticky note from the pad and wrote down your address in pretty cursive letters. Chuuya smiled to himself as he saw your handwriting, it was the cutest fucking thing. You were absolutely a librarian, no doubt about it.

“So, see you at seven?” He asked, shoving the sticky note into his jacket pocket.

“Seven’s all right. What will you be making me?” You asked, beginning to type away at the library computer.

“It’s a surprise.” Chuuya winked at you, turning around and walking away. You blushed and resting your cheek on your hand. In your mind you were dancing in happiness, finally having landed a date. And such a good looking one at that. Who the hell cares if he’s short, he’s tall to you. Height doesn’t matter anyways.

Your shift ended and you practically skipped out of the library building, clutching onto the messenger bag that carried your erotic novels. The library didn’t carry anything erotic, you just disguisted the books with false covers about local history and lore. No one would be into that shit, so it was the perfect plan. The stories consisted of fantasy romances with sections that were so arousing that you couldn’t read it without thinking that you were committing some sort of sin. 

Stepping up the stairs to your apartment, you opened the door and shut it quickly as to not attract any unwanted pests. Mostly bugs, they’ve become a real problem. What would Chuuya think if he saw a bug in your apartment? Your mind was speeding, anxiety building up in your belly. This was your first date in a while, what if you fuck it up somehow? Or worse, what if it goes too well and he wanted to have his way with you. Chuuya was too handsome to refuse sure, but what about you? You couldn’t even remember the last time you had sex, let alone kissed somebody? Oh God, what if that turned him off and he never spoke to you again?

“Dammit, snap out of it!” You slapped yourself across the face, hissing slightly at the pain. Putting yourself together, you strode over to your bedroom and pulled out a dress from way back in your closet. It was a decent length dress with spaghetti straps, your fanciest piece of clothing. The rest of your wardrobe consisted of sweatpants, tank tops with cartoon characters on it, the occasional designer jean, and several thrifted sweaters that had absolutely been worn by a grandfather. 

The dress slipped onto you no problem, like a glove. You didn’t bother wearing any tights or stockings, the dress covered your legs up nicely. You decided to just leave your hair as it was, draped nicely around your shoulders. Light makeup here and there, if you could count mascara and lipgloss as makeup.

Exiting your bedroom, your hands dropped to their sids as you sat down on your living room sofa. There wasn’t anything good on the TV, and reading an erotic novel before Chuuya got there would have probably ruined the mood for you. Was getting ready too early a mistake? Maybe.

Your eyes watched the clock, your pupils going in circles as the second hand made its rotation over and over again until it was about 6:55PM. A knock was heard at your door, snapping you out of the cycle of clock-looking. 

Squealing quietly, you speed-walked over to your door. Taking a deep breath in, you opened the door and there Chuuya stood, holding a bag of groceries in one hand and a singular red rose in the other. “Hey there pretty girl, mind if I come in?”

“O-of course, Chuuya. Uh, sorry.” You stammered, shutting the door as he let himself inside. Chuuya stood in the foyer of your apartment for a moment, quickly noticiny the hundreds of books the lined the shelves. “I don’t know why I’m so surprised doll, shoulda known you’re a huge nerd.” He chuckled, handing you the rose. His outfit was not too different from that afternoon, only the hat and the jacket were missing.

“Thank you, it’s really pretty.” You blushed, placing the rose in a nearby empty vase. “So, um, what are you making me tonight? I’m starving.” You led him into the kitchen, helping him set down the groceries on the counter.

“Kobe beef,” Chuuya said nonchalantly, looking around the kitchen. “Where are your knives? Don’t see em anywhere.”

“In that drawer right there- did you saya kobe beef?” You gasped, taking a step back. “B-but that’s really expensive! This is just a first date y’know, I would have accepted take out!” You stammered, not used to the treatment. Did he really just buy kobe beef for you? How much does he get paid?

“Yeah, what about it? You a vegetarian or something?” Chuuya raised an eyebrow, opening the beef from its luxurious packaging and placing it on the simple wooden cutting board. 

“No, it’s just that…well kobe is really expensive and this is a first date! It’s not even at the nice restaurant or anything, it’s my fucking house!” You whisper-yelled at him, walking foreward so your face was inches away from your own. Your shyness was replaced with anxiety, anxiety that you really had no excuse to have.

Chuuya smiled and patted you on the head, rubbing on your hair with his gloved hand. “Don’t worry about that princess, just have a seat and let me cook for you, yeah?” He assured you, gesturing to your kitchen table. “And besides, you’re dressed up like a five course meal, so shouldn’t you be treated to one?” He smirked, finishing up the chopping of the beef. He figured out how to work your stove pretty quickly, placing the beef in a pan with a little bit of truffle oil. The stove roared to life as the beef began to quickly sizzle, a wonderful aroma that smelled like luxury filled your apartment.

You blushed at Chuuya’s comment, sitting yourself down in the chair. You watched him cook, his brows furrowed in concentration.

The beef was done cooking after a bit, being carefully plated with an array of incredibly looking vegetables. Chuuya sat across from you and took your hand in his own, kissing the back of yours tenderly.

“Bon appetit, princess.” He grinned at you, his eyes hiding a lust that was so extreme Asmodeous himself was jealous. He observed how you ate the beef so carefully, so tenderly. You savored each and every bite, sighing occasionally as the flavors hit your tongue over and over again. Chuuya bit his lip as he watched you eat, barely touching his own dinner. You looked absoltuely succulent in front of him, oblivious to how you were making him feel. Chuuya wanted to shove everything off the table and fuck you right then and there, but he decided to be a gentlemen about it. Dine you, maybe wine you, and only touch your pretty body if you wanted him too. 

You finished your meal quickly, frowning to yourself at Chuuya’s full plate. “Are you not hungry or something?” You asked, ignoring the bits of beef resting at the corner of your mouth. 

“I’m hungry for…something else.” Chuuya smirked, grabbing your dirty plate and placing it in the sink. He stepped over to you and took your hand, hoisting you up from your chair. Carefully, his arm wrapped around your waist so he could pull you in closer to his own form, his fingers running up and down your hip bone. “If you know what I mean.”

You blushed and slowly nodded your head, noticing how his perfect blue eyes seemed to have fireballs igniting within the azure pools. “I…I do. I just…I haven’t had sex in a while. Kind of goes hand-in-hand with the whole dating thing.” You awkwardly laughed to yourself, hoping a joke would lighten the tension.

“I could change that for you dollface, if you want me to.” Chuuya purred, tilting your chin up to his lips were just hovering above yours. “Just say the word sweetheart, and I’ll make you see stars.” He whispered, his hot breath touching your trembling lips.

You thought for a moment, your mouth still agape at Chuuya’s boldness. “...okay.” You breathed against his lips, mere centimeters away.

With your consent, Chuuya crashed his lips against yours. With one hand clutching ont your waist, the other cupped your face quite gently. His kiss was rough and passionate, groaning into your mouth at the sensation that he had so long been craving.

Your hands flew to grab onto his hair, tugging at the longer part. Chuuya moaned slightly at the sensation, squeezing the fabric of your dress. He pulled himself away slowly, choosing to instead attack the delicate flesh of your neck. His lips found your sweetspot and sucked harshly, your lips producing the cutest little moans which only made his cock harder. A bright purple hickey formed in no time at all, definitely going to last a few days. 

“You wear turtlenecks, right? Shouldn’t be a fuckin’ problem then.” He growled against your neck, trialing molten kissed down until he reached your collarbone, playfully licking it.

“M-maybe we should go to the bedroom? Comfier.” You managed to squeak out, softly moaning as Chuuya continued to nip and kiss at your collarbone. He pulled away, grumbling at the loss of contact.

“Good idea dollface, smart.” He lifted you up bridal style, chuckling as you squealed. “You’re so fuckin’ adorable baby, y’know that?” He asked, kicking open the door to your bedroom. He practically threw you onto the bed and pounced, pinning your wrists above your head quickly. Chuuya slammed his lips against yours once more, shoving his tongue down your throat as your teeth clashed for dominance. 

Taking a break from the onslaught of tongue-on-tongue, Chuuya gently stroked your face with his still-gloved hand. “Fucking good mouth you got, sweetheart.” He purred, shifting himself so he was looking at your hips. “Now tell me,” His hand reached to his mouth, peeling off his gloves with his teeth. “Do you want my fingers or my tongue first, princess?”

You gulped nervously, your face feeling like it was going to explode at any moment from how fucking horny you were for this man. Your legs were practically shaking under him, how was it possible that one man could make you feel euphoria without fucking you?

“B-both, please…” You whispered, not daring to look into his aflamed blue eyes that burned for you. Your aroused pooled in your belly, just waiting to be taken care of.

Chuuya nodded approvingly, lifting your dress up to reveal your panties that were soaked in your arousal. “Fuckin’ dirty girl, so perfect for me.” He whispered, hastily removing your panties and tossing them into some corner of your bedroom. He shivered at the sight of your glistening core, admiring how otherworldly it looked in the dim lights of your bedroom.

“Shit,” Chuuya groaned, gathering some of your slick on his fingertips before carefully inserting his index and middle finger inside of your sobbing cunt. He wasted no time in curling his fingers inside of you, thrusting them back and forth swiftly.

“Oh fuck, oh my God!” You cried out, throwing your head back even further into the soft pillows beneath you. Your legs wanted so badly to wrap around his hand, trapping him there for a while. 

“That’s it baby, scream for me. Fuckin’ scream for me princess.” He growled, his lips sucking on your clit roughly. His tongue lapped and sucked at your desperate folds, fingers pumping in and out of you like he was in a competition. He could feel your walls sucking him in, knowing your orgasm was close. 

“Fucking cum for me baby, lemem hear those pretty moans of yours!” Chuuya demanded, eating you out like a starved man.

“Oh fuck, Chuuya!” You screamed out his name as your orgasm finally hit, the knot in your belly becoming undone too fast for your own liking. You wish that moment could last forever instead of mere moments. 

Gasping and panting, you propped yourself up by your elbows to be greeted with a chuckling Chuuya, licking off your cum with his expert tongue. “You taste so much better than anything I’ve ever fucking had before princess.” He spoke, his voice low and sultry.

Chuuya briefly got off the bed to take off his pants and boxers, gasping as the air of your bedroom hit his throbbing cock. He relished in your shocked expression, your mouth left hanging wide open at the sight of him.

“What, never seen a big dick before?” He chuckled, getting on top of you once more. He lifted your legs up so they rested on his shoulders, giving him the most perfect angle to fuck you seneless. 

“Not in a while, no.” You retorted, offering Chuuya a smirk of your own. That one simple movement of your facial muscle was all it took for him to align his cock with your entrance, slamming it inside of you.

“That was so fucking hot babe, do it again.” He demanded, pounding himself into your core without giving you any time to adjust to his length or girth. His hands gripped the undersides of your thighs, occasionally smacking the subble skin.

“Ngh, h-holy fuck! Chuuya, shit! So fucking big, oh my fucking God!” You cried out, your hands making desperate motions to grab onto anything. Chuuya bent down, pushing you into a mating press so he could better hold your hand.

“Shit, fucking scream my name babygirl. Fuck, you’re squeezing on to me so damn tight!” He groaned into your ear, his balls snapping against your ass over and over again. Your cheeks were flushed, mouth gaping open. All that left your lips were wanton moans and cries of pleasure as Chuuya’s cock hit your G-spot over and over again, the pleasure once again pooling in your belly.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit, I’m close! Chuuya, fuck!” You screamed, slamming your lips upwards onto his own. He happily accepted the kiss, biting down onto your lower lip as he felt your cunt contract around his soaked cock.

“Fuck, can you hold out just a little longer baby? Wan’ cum with you, yeah?” He whined against your lips, furiously meeting his hips with your own as the scent of sex and longing filled the bedroom. 

“Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop!” You cried into his ear, not sure how much longer you could stand to not fall into your orgasm.

He growled against your neck, his thrusts becoming staggered and desperate in a relentless tempo as Chuuya’s own orgasm approached him. “Shit, gonna fucking cum. Cum with me yeah, please fucking come with me!”

A silent scream left your lips as euphoria enveloped your body, wave after wave of ecstasy hitting you as your orgasm finally came. Your arousal squeezed and coated Chuuya’s cock, sending him over the edge.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh my God! Fuck…” He gapsed into your neck, his ministrations slowing down until they came to a complete stop. He collapsed onto you, lazily kissing your neck and the hickeys that covered it. 

You smiled, peeling the sweaty hairs away from your face as you embraced Chuuya in your arms. “That was…just like the books I read.” You chuckled, running your fingers through his mess of red hair. “Almost exactly like those books, actually.”

Chuuya looked up from your breast and raised an eyebrow, flipping you around so you were now embraced in his arms. “You read porn?”

You nodded, gesturing to your nightstand. “Yeah, I try to keep it a secret though. My coworkers would never let me live it down if they knew the truth.” You gave him a crooked smile, curling further into his chest. 

He nodded in understanding, kissing your forehead. “Well, we gotta do this again princess. Because that was…well it was fuckin’ amazing. Who knew the cute little librarian was so dirty?” He joked, poking your cheek teasingly.

“I literally just let you finish inside of me and you’re making jokes?”

“Hey, I’m allowed to be funny. I’m a fuckin’ sex god.”

You sighed and kissed his lips, feeling your eyes grow heavy with sleep. “Y’know, I don’t have work tomorrow if you wanted to stay the night…” You yawned, embracing the feeling of coziness and warmth.

Chuuya was a bit shocked by your words at first, smacking his lips together. He smiled down at you, ruffling up your nest of a hair that was no doubt caused by his body moving against yours for a good twenty minutes. “I’d really like that, princess.” He assured you, grabbing his phone from your nightstand to type something in. “Just lettin’ my boss know I’ll be late for my assignment tomorrow.”

“What if he gets mad at you?” You asked, your sleepy voice filled with just a pinch of concern. 

“Well, he can suck my dick for all I care. Although, I’d much rather have you do that.” He winked, throwing the covers above your sweaty forms. “So, are you going to get changed or are we sleeping in our date night clothes?”

“Mm, date night clothes. I don’t think I’ll be able to fucking walk after what you did to me.” You laughed, pulling Chuuya closer. You rested your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat through the expensive shirt he wore. “Have sweet dreams, okay? And…pleae be here when I wake up tomorrow.” You whispered the last part before drifting off, the cutest little snore escaping from your parted lips.

Chuuya sighed and kissed the top of your head, admiring how innocent you looked in your slumber. “I promise beautiful, I’m not going anywhere.”

[sidekick-hero]

Cheesy

steddie | 1.2k | rated: teen | tags: modern AU, Eddie works at Surfer Boy Pizza, inappropriate humor, cheesy lines and bad puns, fluff and humor | AO3

"Steeeeeeve! Steven! I’m starving! You have to save me from the cruel clutches of death by buying us a pizza. But you must hurry—I don’t have much time left."

"Oh no, what would I ever do without you?" Steve deadpans, barely suppressing a grin.

Robin dramatically flings herself onto him, knocking the wind out of him with a loud 'oumph.'

She jabs a finger into his ribs—surprisingly painful. "Crash and burn, Dingus. Crash. And. Burn."

Steve swats her poking fingers away, scowling at his platonic soulmate. "At least I’d have fewer bruises and a better bank account. This is the third time this week I’m buying you pizza, Buckley. How is that fair?"

He tries to sound stern, but as Robin squirms in his lap, looking up at him with big, pleading blue eyes, his resolve crumbles to dust.

"Because I’ve been your best friend since we both lost all dignity in those sailor outfits. It’s us against the world, oh platonic love of my life. Or... don’t you love me anymore?"

There it is—the killing blow. Game, set, match.

God, he’s so fucking easy, isn’t he?

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Gimme my phone, jeez. You’re eating me out of house and home, I hope you know that."

Steve gets a sharp elbow in the stomach as Robin scrambles to grab his phone from the table.

"Ouch! God, why are your elbows so pointy?"

"They’re my secret weapon against the patriarchy," Robin says distractedly, shoving the phone in his face. "Pizza. Please. Hungry."

Robin’s monosyllables mean the situation is dire. Steve quickly dials their favorite pizza place. “Veggie?” he mouths, earning a thumbs-up from Robin.

“Surfer Boy Pizza, this is Eddie speaking. What’s your poison of choice?”

Huh. The deep, smooth voice on the other end of the line is new, throwing Steve off momentarily.

“Uhhhm… You’re not Argyle,” he blurts out, immediately wanting to slap himself. How pathetic does he sound right now?

An amused chuckle echoes through the tiny speaker.

“Keen observation skills, Sherlock. Argyle’s off today, so you’ve got the pleasure of my company. How can I make your day better, sweetheart?”

The flirty tone throws Steve further, but he can’t deny he’s enjoying it. So, he decides to match Eddie’s energy.

“I could think of a few things, but I’m not sure they’re on the menu,” Steve flirts back, relishing the chance to flex his long-dormant charm.

“Is that so?” Eddie’s smile is practically audible. “Who says they aren’t? Or that I wouldn’t make an exception if you ask real nice?”

Steve opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, Robin’s elbow digs into his side, knocking the breath out of him. She’s glaring at him, mouthing, ‘What the fuck?’

The sound must have been loud enough for Eddie to hear because he clears his throat awkwardly. “Uh, was that… I mean, sorry if that was too forward, man. Please don’t tell my manager, I just got the job and—”

“No! No, no, no, don’t worry. My best friend’s just starving and shared her pain with me… via elbow to the ribs. It wasn’t too forward, I promise.”

A relieved sigh reaches his ear. “Okay, good. So, what kind of pizza can I get you two before your best friend starves to death? I wouldn’t want that on my conscience.”

A heavy weight settles in Steve’s stomach. He didn’t realize how much he missed being flirted with, even casually. Nancy was right—their relationship had been over long before they ended it. It’s been ages since he felt this kind of excitement.

“Yeah, no, we don’t want that,” Steve agrees, smiling despite himself. “One veggie, and one with meatballs—yes, I know how that sounds.”

Eddie’s flirtatious tone returns. “Wouldn’t dream of going for such an easy opening, big boy. I’m easy, not cheesy.”

“Oh. My. God.” Steve laughs. “That was terrible.”

“But you liked it.”

Steve grins. Yeah, he did. He’s a sucker for bad puns and dad jokes. But Eddie didn’t need to know that. “Pleading the fifth.”

Eddie hums, asking for his name and address before promising the pizza will be there in 20 minutes.

“Thanks, Eddie,” Steve says, his voice softer than it should be.

“Anytime, Stevie. Enjoy your pizza!”

“Bye. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Deafening silence. Then, in a surprisingly calm voice, Eddie says, “I hope you’re not expecting a discount on the pizza now that we’ve confessed our undying love to each other. Because I’d do anything for love, but I won’t do that.”

And then he hangs up, leaving Steve to spiral in peace.

Love you.

Love you, too.

Fuck. Oh my God. Fuckfuckfuckfuck. What was he thinking? Nothing, apparently. It’s just… with Nancy on his mind, his brain switched to autopilot, saying the words he ended every call with her. Three years of habit.

“Steve? Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The worried look on Robin’s face lasts just long enough for Steve to explain what happened before she breaks into ringing laughter.

“Oh my God,” she gasps, barely able to catch her breath. “That’s… hahaha… I can’t… What is your life, Dingus?”

By then, Steve’s laughing too, Robin’s reaction helping him see the humor instead of drowning in embarrassment.

As promised, there’s a ring at the door about 20 minutes later, announcing the arrival of their pizza. The sound sends butterflies fluttering in his stomach, even though he knows the delivery guy won’t be Eddie.

Knowing that and seeing it for himself are two different things, though. He can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment when he opens the door to find a blonde, pimply teenager staring at him doubtfully.

“So, you’re the guy trying to lure Eddie into your sex dungeon?”

Steve sputters, completely thrown. “Uh… what?”

“Why else would you tell a total stranger—who’s also working for you, by the way, hence creating an imbalance of power—that you love him? Freak.”

The teenager shoves the pizza boxes into Steve’s hands, snatches the bills from his other hand, and walks away without another word.

Steve stands there, staring into the void, deeply regretting all his life choices. He’s snapped out of it only when Robin’s voice pierces through his thoughts, yelling for her pizza.

“Coming!” he shouts back, closing the door with his foot and carrying the boxes over to where Robin’s already making grabby hands.

He hands hers over before settling down next to her with his own.

“What took you so long?” she asks, mouth full of pizza.

“You wouldn’t believe it,” he begins but stops when he notices the note stuck to the top of his pizza box.

Hey Stevie, I lied, because this is cheesy, but you are one supreme slice, and I’d love to give you meatballs for as long as you’d like. Yours truly, The guy you confessed your undying love to (aka Eddie) P.S. Please don’t mind Sam. He’s just jealous because no customer ever confesses their love to him.

Beneath the note, Steve finds a phone number.

Without thinking, he grabs his phone and quickly types out a message before finally digging into his pizza, suddenly starving.

‘Hey Eddie, if you put a sausage on top of the meatballs, we have a deal. xxx the guy you confessed your undying love to right back.’

Inspired by this ancient post I can no longer find:

[m2ok]

I’ve never been so madly in love

Cowboy! Johnny Mactavish x bottom! M!reader

Tw: soft fluffy smut

A/N: Guys this is my first time writing smut…I think I did alright, but let me know if you have any critiques for future reference :) 

Johnny twisted in the bonds tied around his wrists, thick rope cutting into soft skin as he wriggled about from where you had placed him on top of your horse. 

“Oh come on!” He groaned, trying with all he had to stretch the rope and break it, but to no avail. 

You ignored him, the hefty bounty you would get for his capture heavy on your mind as you made your way steadily back to your little town for which you were the sheriff of. 

Seemingly annoyed at your lack of attention, he shuffled forward as much as he could on the horse, knocking his shoulder into yours to force you to put your eyes on him. 

“Can we at least stop for the night! Wolves live near these parts and I’d rather not meet em.” He tried to reason. 

You rolled your eyes at the man as you ventured onwards, shaking your head at his pleas. 

“With the bounty on your head I wouldn’t worry about wolves. Ain’t no way I’m lettin’ them take that money from me” you assured, though positive your words did little to comfort him. 

Johnny chuckled dryly, “aw sheriff, you wound me.” he mocked, struggling against the ropes halfheartedly. After a moment he sighed, once again giving up.

“Tell me honest pal, that bounty’s all worth it? All the work, risking your neck each time? For what, a few coins and a pat on the back?” He gazed ahead down the darkening trail. The trees seemed closer, though miles ahead still, shadowy figures lurking within just awaiting his arrival. 

“When was the last time you took a rest, had yourself a drink or dance with a pretty thing?” Johnny glanced sidelong at you, a hint of mischief in his eyes despite his words. 

You were tempted to ignore him once again, but you figured conversation might do you some good out on the dusty landscape. Though you wished it was with better company. 

“Dance with who? You?” You scoffed, shaking your head as you adjusted your hat so it wouldn’t cover your eyes. 

“This here’s the only work I’ve known. I’ll be damned If I let it go now,” you didn’t care much for the money nor the glory despite what you had said, the chase was the most fun part; that was what kept you going and made the job enjoyable. 

And Johnny was the only man who routinely matched your wits. Though this time proved different, this time you had finally won. It was a kind of euphoria you hadn’t felt in a long while. 

Johnny let out an obnoxious bark of laughter. “Well now sheriff, I’ll have you know I get rather frisky when I’ve had one too many. But you don’t seem the type.” His smile faded as he pondered your words. 

“Aye…I get it. The thrill of it all keeps the blood pumpin’. Nothin else quite like the open road.” He sighed wistfully. “What I wouldn’t give to feel that freedom again, even if just for a night.”

The horses slowed as darkness fell. Up ahead was a small clearing, as good a spot as any to camp, and it had Johnny eying you sideways again.

 “Bet you five dollars i can wriggle outta these here ropes by mornin’. Whaddya say?” He flash a rougish grin, bright eyes watching for your reaction.

You stopped the horses as you camp upon the little plot of land, dismounting as you unpacked the little rucksack you carried. You set up a small tent with a mat on the inside for a buffer against the hard ground and some furs for warmth. 

You spent the next few minutes gathering wood for a humble fire, completely ignoring Johnny until the thing was built - then you spoke as you dusted your hands off on your worn denim. 

“I’d be a damned fool if I took that bet.” You said as you looked over at him, the mischievous glint in his eyes doing little to ease your nerves. “Reckon I won’t get much sleep tonight on account of makin’ sure you stay put.” You grumbled to yourself as you practically dragged him off of the horse, setting him in front of the fire before he could complain about being cold. 

Johnny chuckled at your wariness. “No need to fret sheriff, I ain’t goin anywhere.” He said with a wink before he shifted into a more comfortable position, eyeing the flickering flame.

“Must get lonely out here though. Never thought I’d say this, but I’d offer you some company.” His grin returned, flecks of gold in his eyes as he gazed over at you from where he sat, his eyes holding something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. 

“We bounty men gotta stick together after all. Who else understands the thrill of the chase, hm?”

He leaned forward, closing in on your space as his voice turned low, “and between you and me, I’ve had my sights set on a certain lawman for a while now. Why do you think I keep letting you catch me?” He winked. 

You cleared your throat, suddenly feeling warm in places the fire couldn’t have reached. Damn scoundrel was playing games with your head, same as he did to escape time and time again. But part of you found yourself intrigued at his new tactic, despite your better judgment.  

You wrote off his words as deception, an attempt to get your guard down just enough so he could run off in the middle of the night with everything you owned. 

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, adjusting your pants as you turned your attention back to the fire to hide your blush; hoping he would right off your red face as a result of the fire burning bright in front of you. 

“You’re bad at hidin’ your intentions. No wonder ya get caught so often, you’re a terrible liar.” You said with a roll of your eyes, trying as hard as you could to ignore the temptation and desire slowly building in the deep pit of your stomach. 

You and Johnny had always had this strange sort of relationship. He would tell you sweet nothings, his face so honest and true you couldn’t help but believe him only for him to run off the second he saw an opportunity. Though you always crossed paths again, and he always assured he meant what he said.

You knew it was wrong to feel this way about a man of his stature, and you hated your body for betraying your mind. The desire in you slowly turning into sick guilt at the feeling of being physically attracted to a man you were supposed to be capturing, and likely sending to his death should you turn him in. For what crimes committed you couldn’t rightly say. 

Johnny chuckled once again, not missing the slight flush creeping up your neck towards your ears. “Now now sheriff, no need to be coy. Ain’t no crime in finding a fella agreeable.”

He shifted his bound wrists, leaning ever closer so his words were for your ears alone. “And to be honest, I’ve yet to meet a man as cunning and determined as yourself. It’s…inspiring” His breath was warm against your skin, lips barely inches from your own. Fear and desire warred within - this outlaw could ruin you with a single move. And yet…out here in the whispering dark, titles and duties seemed so far away and futile. 

Johnny searched your gaze, smile fading to something hungrier, questioning. After so long chasing each other’s shadows, what would happen if one of you stopped running, just for a moment?

The fire crackled lower as stars emerged unseen above trees. Anything could happen…if you would just let it.

Your own eyes were blown wide as he leaned in ever closer, sharing the same air as you gazed into his eyes. You wanted to believe his words, and you wanted to give into your instincts. No. You couldn’t, you had to convince yourself this was just an issue of forced proximity. So pent up from a job you couldn’t catch a break from that you got hot and bothered at the sight of an attractive man. You were better than your instincts, you had to believe that. 

You cleared your throat as you leaned away from him, shaking your head as your eyebrows furrowed while a new sort of feeling filled you - hurt. You weren’t sure why this new emotion popped up, but it did. You wanted to be seen as more than just a means to an end, but you knew this life didn’t offer much of that. Everyone was always going to be more worried about their own skin, and maybe you should take their lead. 

“M’ not gonna be something you use just to get away. Nor will I be a one night stand.” You grumbled, words firm and sure as you mindlessly poked the fire with a nearby stick as a way to distract yourself from the current situation. 

Johnny sat back with a sigh, watching your restless stoking of the flames. Clearly this situation stirred more within you than you cared to show. And he understood - to give in would risk everything, for the both of you. 

“Hey now…” He said softly as his gaze turned tender “I meant no disrespect.” His tone was gentle now, earnest in the firelight. “Fact is, I’ve never met a man like you. There’s something about you that intrigues me, lawman. Something worth riskin’ it all for, if you’d have me” 

He held your gaze steadily, searching. After so long running wild, the idea of settling…It didn’t scare him half as much as he thought. Not if it was with you. 

Johnny smiled faintly. “What do you say we grab this here bounty in the morn, head into town as partners? I’m willing to turn a new leaf, if you’ll vouch for me.” 

The offer hung between you, heavy with promise. A chance at something real. It was all your call.  

You thought about your options, finally landing on something you deemed not quite illegal. With steady hands you grabbed a knife from your pocket, taking his bound hands in one of your own while the other used the blade to carefully saw through the thick rope. 

The binds fell away to the wind, and you set the knife to rest on the dirt as you gently massaged the indented skin, unwilling to let go of his warm hands just yet. 

You pulled away to look over at the small town barely a mile away, a big wooden saloon sign catching your eye. “I need a drink anyway.” You said simply as you both made the short trek over.

It was hours later when you finally got back to camp, alcohol still buzzing in your system just enough to give you confidence as you clung onto each other life life depended on it, lips clashing in a heated kiss as you moaned against him, addicted to the feeling of Johnny’s hands on your waist - desperate to keep you pressed against him. 

Johnny grinned against your lips, heart soaring like it hadn’t in years. Finally free in more ways than one, and with the most interesting man he’d ever known no less. 

“Sheriff…” he murmured, guiding you down into the soft grass as hands roamed, learning your shape in the pale moonlight. No need for words now - just sensation and freedom, two men chasing a different kind of high. 

Clothes were discarded in haste, bare flesh reveling in the cool air and fiery touches. Johnny looked down at you with hunger, a longing, he’d never allowed himself to feel fully before this night. 

“Tell me what you want darlin’,” He breathed against your neck, nipping softly at tender skin. Your hands in his hair urged him closer still, the ache inside building swiftly with the need to be inside you. 

You arched into his touch, a whine leaving your lips as his hands roamed against sensitive skin. It wasn’t often you were under someone like this, so vulnerable and splayed out for all of him to see. 

“Johnny~” You gasped, desperate for some sort of friction as you rolled your hips up to meet his own. 

“You- just want you. Please…need you to - to make me yours~” You were begging, frantic hands keeping him close as you waited with mock patience for what you wanted Hips wiggled in anticipation as you looked down to where your bodies were so nearly joined, only needing a slight push from Johnny to come together as one. 

Johnny growled low at your plea, all thoughts fleeing save the primal need to claim and be claimed in return. 

“Fuck, baby. Whatever you want~” He rumbled, grasping your hips to still them. With a slow roll of his own and careful aiming, he teased your entrance with his aching length. Your gasp spurred him onwards, sinking in to the hilt with shuddering care. 

Pausing the savor the connection, Johnny saw stars behind his eyes. You felt so unbelievably right wrapped around him, guiding his rough edges into a smooth whole. 

Bracing above, he gazed down at your blissed out expression and swore then and there - come hell or high water, nothing would rend him from your side again. You belonged to each other, body and soul, and may the devil himself try to tear you apart. 

With that vow sealed in his blood, Johnny began to move with near excruciating patience, learning your responses like familiar paths once trekked long ago. 

“Mmf~!” You moaned, words escaping you at the feeling of being filled so entirely, nearly cumming as soon as he entered, hard member pressing down in you deep enough to make you feel utterly full. 

“Fuck! so - shit - so fucking big Johnny!”  You whined, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him impossibly closer as you began to rock your hips in time with his thrusts, trying to urge him to go faster. 

“Please - please move I can’t- Need you to move-!” You begged, your own hard cock leaking precum against your stomach as you waited impatiently for him to bend to your pleas. 

Johnny groaned at your words, beyond thrilled you found his size so pleasing already. “Anythin’ for you, darlin’,” he grit out, pulling back slowly before snapping his hips forward in a deep thrust. 

That first rollick sent sparks shooting through his veins, your walls clasping him in exquisite heat. Johnny set a punishing pace from there, driving into your willing body like a man possessed. All that built up want and denial over your respective chases came flooding out in each meeting of skin. 

Reaching between you, he grasped your aching member, pumping in rhythm with his thrusts. Johnny wanted you unraveling completely beneath him, marked inside and out as truly his. 

“Come on now honey, let go for me,” he urged roughly, angling for that spot deep within. 

His balls drew tight with the promise of release, but Johnny wouldn’t dare finish before you. No, he was going to milk you for all you were worth before he even thought about his own release, tying your pleasure irrevocably to his own.

You gasped at the sudden onslaught of pleasure, eyes nearly rolling back as your body moved with every harsh pound into you, mind going dumb on his cock. Though you wouldn't ask for anything better, the feeling consumed you entirely, pleasure taking over everything as you felt that familiar coil in your stomach start to tighten further and further until-

With a soft cry you came, body shaking as your spend landed across both of your bodies. Your legs tightened around his waist, desperate to keep inside for a while longer, almost crying at the thought of him pulling out of you so quickly. You wanted to spend the entire night wrapped in him like this.

Johnny groaned at your reaction, grinding his hips through your release to prolong your pleasure. The way you clung to him so wantonly with shaking legs stole what little breath he had left. 

“So responsive already, darlin’. I ain’t done with you yet - don’t worry your pretty little head~” He rasped, uncaring of the mess you were creating. With sloppy rolls he rode out your aftershocks, cock throbbing at your fluttering insides. 

But you begged for more like the insatiable creature he knew you to be. Johnny wasted no time obeying, moving your legs so he could pull you up into his lap, pistoning up into that sweet spot with no mercy. His orgasm teetered on the edge, held back only by sheer force of will. Johnny latched onto your neck, sucking a sore mark to match the pulse beating erratically beneath his lips. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. Ya feel so damn good takin’ my cock. Gonna fuck another load outta you ‘fore I’m done, you hear?”

His fingers returned unbidden to your sensitive length, determined to wring every last shiver from your overstimulated form beneath the glory of the moon. Johnny wanted this night - wanted you - to last as long as fate allowed. Let the dawn take care of itself for once. 

His words did little to quell the burning lust building up inside of you once more, a whiny moan leaving you as your second orgasm of the night rippled through you, this time merely dribbling out of your tip. 

“God- fuck Johnny!” You whined “So good- so so good inside me. Can’t even can’t even think right!” You babbled, practically drooling as you held on tight to him fingernails no doubt leaving scratches along his body. 

“Need you to cum in me - nice and deep and- and make me yours~” You begged, rocking your hips against his. 

Johnny growled deep at your pleasure cries, all sense of restrain utterly vanished in the throes of lustful abandon. 

“Anythin’ you want, darlin’, gon’ fill that tight hole up just how you want,” he grit out through clenched teeth. A few final brutal thrusts was all it took, his release exploding within your clasping heat with a drawn out groan. 

Wave after wave pulsed from his cock, painting your velvety walls white inside and out. Johnny held you flush, grinding through the bliss to be certain not a drop was spared between your bodies. 

As his throes eased, Johnny pressed loving kisses to your sweat-slick brow, nose nuzzling sweetly against your own. “You’re fuckin’ perfect,” he murmured, cock still twitching inside its paradise. 

Johnny adjusted your sated form to cradle properly in his lap, breath coming fast yet deep with afterglow. One hand stroked gently through your hair while the other rubbed your sated length, reluctant to part so soon. 

His sweet words clouded your brain, fuzz covering everything logical as a pleasured haze took over. 

With a weak whine you came for one final time, panting softly as he removed his hand and allowed you to just rest against him. Your body was completely lax in his arms, lingering pleasures twitching inside you still. With another whine you cuddled into him, sweat turning cold on your skin as you sought out his body heat to keep you warm. 

“Don’t leave…” You whispered, the aftermath hitting you hard, body and mind falling together. “Don’t leave me again” you begged, voice shaky as you clung onto him. 

Johnny held you tighter at your whispers, heart near bursting at the confessed sentiment. 

“Never, darlin’, I ain’t goin’ nowhere without you,” he vowed softly into your hair, peppering it with gentle kisses. His hand rose to cup your face, urging your glazed eyes to meet his own smoldering gaze. 

“You’re stuck with me now, ya hear? I’d follow you into hell itself for another taste of heaven like this.” Johnny chuckled lightly even as deep emotion welled in his chest. 

“We’ll face tomorrow together, you and me against the world. Anyone tries to tear us apart will get a bullet quicker than they can blink.” He held your eyes steadily, willing you to see the sincerity in his soul. 

“I love you, little sheriff. Now and always, till my dying day.” With that Johnny sealed the oath with a tender kiss, Pouring every unspoken feeling into action. Nothing would part you from this moment, from him, ever again if he had any say. 

Now yours completely, he guided your limp form to rest atop his chest as blankets of stars looked on. Whatever dreams may come, for tonight there was only peace in each other’s arms at long last. 

~end

As always, requests are open

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

my girl 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your brother’s friend from work starts hanging out a lot more often. (short!reader)

Characters: Captain Syverson

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

After dinner, you volunteer to do the dishes. It’s an easy way out of the awkward social cues and you find, it keeps your mom off your back so you can get a chapter in. You finish up, drying each and placing them neatly in the cupboards. Having defeated the dirty plates, you grab your book and head out to the porch. 

As the sun sets, the daytime heat dissipates into a mellow coolness. The smell of dew laces the fresh air. You lay back on the porch swing, feet up on the armrest as you read, the glow of the outside light giving just enough to make out the font. 

You plunge into the fictional realm head first. The buzz of crickets gives way to the eerie atmosphere of the underworld caverns and the night shifts in time with imaginary shadows. You are there with the party, trekking through the treacherous, waiting for a beast to surprise you. 

The front door swings open and hits the end of the swing. You squeak as the book slips free of your grasp and falls to the ground. You sit up as you crane to see over your shoulder, an orc-like silhouette adding to your fright. It isn’t real.  

Your vision clears and you return to reality. It’s only Sy. His eyes look just as startled as he looks down at you then his eyes skitter over to the ground. 

Before you can reach over the edge of the bench, Sy moves to grab the book. He lifts it and smooths the pages, dusting off the cover. He examines it before he hands it over. 

“Sorry, I’m a big lug sometimes,” he says as you accept the book and search for your place. 

“It’s fine,” you smile and keep your thumb between the pages. 

He reaches to rub the back of his neck then drags his hand over his beard. You noticed the same gesture several times during dinner and before that. It seems a habit that betrays a thoughtful mind. 

“Good book?” He gestures towards the novel. 

You look down and tilt your head, “it’s alright. Typical fantasy, you know?” 

“Ah,” he nods as the porch light leaves his features in darkness. 

“Mmhmm,” you smile and sit straight on the swing, your legs dangling over the edge. 

He steps closer and puts his hand on the post that holds the bench aloft, “erm, dinner was good.” 

“Oh? Yeah, it was.” 

“I know ya made some of it so... wanted to say so.” 

“Uh, right,” you laugh nervously, “yeah, guess I did.” 

He’s quiet and you’re just as speechless. The night breeze does little to cool the scald of tension all around you. Why is he talking to you? He should be grunting at Isaac’s dumb jokes. 

“Anyway, gotta head out,” he shifts on his feet, “you have a good night.” 

“Er, sure, you too,” you cheep. 

“Mmm, sure will,” he answers and lets go of the swing, turning to continue to the stairs. He stops at the top and looks back, “don’t stay out here too late. Thunderstorm coming.” 

“Is there?” You wonder as you look up at the sky, the moon clear. 

“So I heard,” he shrugs and sets off down the stairs with clomping steps. 

You stare after him as he stalks off, following the path down to the long driveway and to his large truck. The street light illuminates his silhouette as you feel the dampness woven into the wind. You sit back and let out a ‘huh’. You hadn’t noticed it until he said something, then again, you hadn’t been living in that world. 

💕

“Peanut!” Your mom calls to you from down the hall. “Little help!” 

You sigh and finish the sentence. You roll your eyes up and mark your page. You sit up, frustrated as each page seems to be interrupted by one thing or another. You roll of the bed and leave the book on your pillow. 

You open your door and a roiling wall of heat blasts you in the face. You head down the hall and find your mother a humid mess as she works in her apron, her forehead sticky, and a pan in her hands. She drops it with a clang on the stove top and puffs. 

“Ugh, these things are never going to cook,” she tuts and shakes her head. 

“Mom?” You cross your arms and lean in the doorway. Even with central air, her broil has the house as hot as Mordor. “What’s up?” 

“Well, I was hoping you’d make your apple blossoms for dessert but I just got a call from Isaac,” she shakes her head and wipes her sweaty brow. “He forgot his lunch.” 

“Oh,” you purse your lips and nod. 

“So, peanut, you wanna go for a ride? I’d take it myself but I’m in the middle of something,” she smiles and fans herself. “And I’m an absolute mess!” 

“Yeah, I guess I could,” you shrug, trying not to let your disappointment burn through. Considering she isn’t pressuring you to get a summer job like everyone else’s parents, you won’t push it.  

“You’re amazing, pea,” she trills and goes to the fridge. She pulls out a container of yesterday’s leftovers and shoves them into your hands, “and tell your brother not to be late.” 

“Sure,” you utter. 

“Ah, and if you run into Sy, you tell him he’s more than welcome to come by. Should be all sorts of extras tonight.” 

“Right,” you take the container and find a cloth bag to put it in. You head back to your room and swipe up your book and your phone. Just in case. 

You pluck your mom’s keys off the hook by the door as you slip into your sandals, the straps braided leather. You chose them because the little daisies reminded you of a woodland elf. You take your brother’s lunch and grumble as you cross the lawn. 

Your mother’s car is nicer than your dad’s truck. More manageable for you. You don’t need to adjust the seat very much and you can see the road, mostly.  

You take the drive slowly, enjoying the greenery of the neighbourhood. Your brother can suffer his own negligence. He’s an adult and he’s still forgetting his lunch at home. As always, someone else is cleaning up after him. 

You pull up to the shop. You’ve been there once or twice but never inside. As you get out of the car, you hesitate. Should you knock? You approach the heavy metal door and peer around.  

A whistle comes from your left and you turn as Sy appears from around the side of the building. His face is darkened above his beard and around his hairline with the residue of his work. The faint outline of safety glasses leaves a lighter patch in the middle of his face. 

“Hey,” his voice is sonorous as he holds a pair of gauntlets. “Everything okay?” 

“Um,” you blink at him then look back at the car. “Yeah, uh, my brother forgot his lunch.” 

You hold up the bag in your hand. He nods, his face placid. Impossible to read. In his leather apron and with his thick arms bulging under his sweaty tea, he reminds you of a dwarf in a Tolkien tale. You gulp and fidget. 

“Real nice of you to drop that off,” he says as he comes closer, “you’re real sweet like that.” 

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” you clasp your wrist and sway nervously. 

“Want me to take it into him? Wouldn’t want ya ruining your clothes with all the fire.” 

“Er, I... if you don’t mind.” 

“If you’re askin’, I don’t mind,” he holds out a large hand, “I’ll get him that.” 

“Right, thanks,” you put it in his hand as he stares down at you, his gaze as hot as the torch he works with. 

“It’s nothing at all,” he assures. 

You smile nervously and back up as he towers over you. You rub your throat and look around again. You feel bad not offering now. 

“Mom said if you wanna come for dinner, we’ll have extra,” you say. 

He hums and puts his gauntlets against the bottom of the container as he holds it in both hands, making it seem tiny. 

“Won’t say no to dinner with a pretty girl,” he intones. 

Your eyes flick up and meet his. No, your mom invited him. He’s just being nice, right? The way he always is, at least when he bothers to speak up. Maybe he's even talking about her.

“I should... go,” you point with your thumb. 

“If you say so,” he agrees, “drive safe.” 

“Will do,” you spin and scurry off. Oof, you are so friggin awkward you could just-- 

You trip and stagger, keeping yourself on your feet. You cringe and turn back, giving a wave to assure him you’re not a total loss, then open the door. You keep your head down, refusing to look at him as you buckle in. 

Maybe you can convince your mom to let you eat in your room. 

[simplyzeeka]

Episode 2. Season 1

Lingering

But I'ma be someone to know soon

Come fuck with me

I aint got no plans for the weekend

Don't know what you was thinking.

Warnings: MDNI! Sweaty Terry in a wife beater, subtle flirting.

Summary: Where Syrae and Terry meet two times too many and sparks seem to fly yet again.

Author's note: everything in italics is a flashback.

Were degrees worth it? A single piece of paper, that only showed that you were eligible to work in a certain field. It didn't guarantee that you would even find work. Syrae often wondered all of this when it was time to open a book and study for her damned Dental Science degree.

With an assignment yet to be submitted, she had to grab her laptop and use her favourite cafés Wi-Fi, since the Wi-Fi in her ran down building was down every other week. Unfortunately for her (and her bank account), that meant she also had to constantly buy something to stay in the café. “Just a coffee will do, thanks.” She said to the waitress with a kind smile before turning back to her laptop.

She was stuck, tired and honestly so over life in general. Having to constantly click in and out of tabs to search for textbooks she couldn't afford was beginning to seem tedious, and she wished she would've gone to the local library instead, but something about the dust there always had her feeling a little itchy. As if her place was any better.

“Fuck me.” She groans lowly, taking off the glasses on her face and placing them on the table. She quickly saved her work and shut her laptop. Clearly she was not going to be the most productive.

Not only was she completely over this degree, she was exhausted from having to now work weekdays at the club. Syrae was falling a bit behind on rent, and that meant having to pick up shifts at the bar. “Thank you very much.” She said to the waitress as they placed her cup on the table.“You're welcome, ma’am. By the way, your check has already been settled by that man over there.”

With a frown, Syrae looks over to where the woman pointed. A tall man, piercing, green eyes and an intimidating aura despite the closed smile on his face. A tall man she has worked overnight trying to get out of her head, especially considering his situation.

“Your fiancé know you here?” A question slips past the sly smile she had on her lips. He chuckles, gaze unmoving, needing to commit her beauty to memory.

“It's my bachelor party, pretty sure she doin’ the same thing as me.” A shrug, he wasn't worried, pretty confident he would maintain his fidelity. “Hmm, a shame really.” her voice echoes, flying like pretty little monarchs into his ear and straight to his stomach.

“And why's that?” Curious, he needed to know, even if it would kill him. “Cause I could've given the greatest dance in your life.” because even if it did, satisfaction would most definitely bring him back. “You still can.” A nonchalant shrug, a mistake more than anything… because once lines blurred, it was hard to draw them again.

“Put it on me, baby.” And who would deny him with eyes like that? Syrae wouldn't, and Indigo? Indigo wouldn't dare to.

She knew she shouldn't entertain this in the slightest. The man was fine… too fine for her own good, but not only that- he was engaged… Well married by now and that was a no-no zone.

So Syrae only smiles, mouths a curt ‘thank you’ before she opened her laptop, trying to look like she was occupied.

Her attempts fail, because Terry frowned at the interaction. Clearly not satisfied, he walked over to her secluded table in meticulous steps, not wanting to seem too forthcoming and eager.

“Uh, hey? Hey, I'm sorry. I figured the message may seem malicious, and that's not the-”

Oh but Syrae was already on his ass, interrupting with a sigh and an unbothered look. “Look, I don't know what you thought this was. But that night was work. I'm not some piece of hot ass you could use to cheat on your wife. I might be a…dancer, but that don't mean I'm unethical.”

Terry placed his coffee on the table and raised his hands in surrender, before looking around then back at her. “Woah woah, that wasn't my intention. I wanted to apologise… for anyway I might have acted that night, actually. I had a bit much to drink, and I don't hold my liquor well.” He explains with a small frown.

Syrae's shoulders relax a bit, he seemed genuine for the most part. “Hmm, you were quite bold.” She jokes with a small smile. “I'm sorry, I just get a lot of thirsty husbands asking shit like that, and-”

It's Terry's turn to interrupt, a short laugh. Too short for Syrae's liking because the rumble was a smooth honey that had little dragonflies fluttering in her stomach. “Nah, you good. I get it. I'm not like that.”

“Of course you not…” Syrae whispered, loud enough for him to hear as they inspected each other with gentle smiles. It took a while for Syrae to notice that their eyes lingered a second too long, so she cleared her throat, pursing her lips as she straightened her posture.

Terry broke his eyes from hers, retrieving his coffee from the table before bidding his goodbyes. “Well, I hope you enjoy the rest of your day, Indigo.”

Syrae internally cringed at the use of her stripper name outside of work, but mustered up a smile anyway. “You too. Thanks…again.” Everything about this was so awkward, she was glad when he simply nodded his head and turned to walk out the café so that she could finally release the breath she was holding.

Until a brown object caught her eyes on the floor. She squints and notices that the plain, brown woven leather just so happened to be his wallet. With determined haste, she stood and ran out the café, eyes scanning the sidewalk only to see nobody.

“Damn. Long ass legs.” She did what any other person would. Opened his wallet in hopes of a number, and luckily for her, she saw a business card with a number on it. Mike's Auto Masters. Below were a few numbers on how to contact the owner, followed under a name. Terry Richmond.

“Welp, looks like we gotta catch him again. God, why are all the fine ones taken.” She whispered before walking back into the café to finish her coffee and retrieve her belongings.

“Can't believe that you, Syrae Belles, is bout to break a rule.” Broisa, a fellow friend of Syrae comments as she lays stomach down on the couch.

Syrae rolled her eyes, a sigh resonated deep in chest. “I'm not breakin’ a rule girl.” She stated, “where else I'm ‘sposed to give this man his wallet?”

Broisa was annoying and noisy, Syrae couldn't believe their friendship survived as long as it did. Broisa was a beautiful dark-skinned woman. Working as a bottle girl at the same club Syrae worked in since she claimed pole dancing was too much of a work out for her.

“At the club? Where he met you?” the sassy woman replies as if the answer was that obvious. “You the one who made this whole rule bout not meeting your clients outside of he club, now here you are… breaking it.”

“I wouldn't say he's my client, Broisa. I only danced for him once.” Syrae defended with a sigh as she popped a chip in her mouth. “Yeah, one dance too many. Now he payin’ for your orders in cafés and shit.”

Syrae regretted telling Broisa about Terry. All she needed was one story to spiral everything into some hot fantasy where Syrae and Terry have an affair, despite her screaming men are trash, specifically for that reason alone.

“Broisa, please. I'm just meetin’ him at his shop tomorrow morning and giving the man back his wallet. Besides, ‘member when I told you he's married.” She emphasised the last word with a raised brow.

“How sure are you that he went through with the wedding?” Broisa throws back, “What if he told his wife he cheated and she left him at the al-”

“Woah now girl, cheat? I barely danced on that pole for an hour.” She laughs worriedly, Syrae doesn't condone cheating. Otherwise she wouldn't have shut himself down so quickly at the café. “Besides, he said that his wife went to a strip club herself.”

Broisa hums in apprehension, she has never really understood going to strip clubs for bachelor and bachelorette parties. Hell, she never understood those parties in general. Like hell will her man ever go to a strip club to celebrate his ‘last day single.’ She would turn that into his last day living.

“Anywho, where you go yesterday?” Syrae deflected with a question, “Had me blowing up your phone like I wanted your help burying a body.”

Broisa perked up at the question with a smile. “Tuh, girl! Tell me why Gage popped up on me?”

And just like that, the girls fell into a different conversation.

Syrae couldn't help but hum at the vast space of the auto repair shop. Clearly this Mike guy just recently built this shop from the ground up, everything was so pristine.

Syrae managed to call the number on the car and actually reached Terry himself, so they could arrange a time to meet a little after she found the wallet.

Back at her dusty apartment, Syrae can't help but to light some candles to help soothe her growing anxiety. Something about talking to this random stranger on the phone had her a little too nervous for a plausible explanation.

Still, she dialled the number and then listened to the phone ring as she eyed the flame on the herbal candle. When he heard the baritone of his voice she damn near slid off the couch. “Hey! Hey… uh. Hi, sorry.”

Embarrassing, that was embarrassing. The earth could open up and swallow her whole. If she still smoked weed, she would need fifteen blunts after this phone call. Syrae urged herself to get herself together in her head, needing so desperately to hold onto some sanity and clarity.

“Hey. I'm sorry, who am I talkin’ to?” And fuck did he have to sound so good? The way the phone amplified his voice made him sound finer than he usually does, despite Syrae only having heard his voice twice.

“Oh sorry, it's the girl from the café. I-Indigo? I got the wallet you dropped with me.” She explains, “Got your number on your business card.”

Terry sighs, seemingly in relief as Syrae interprets. “Fuck. Thank you so much, I was stressed out ‘bout that.” He laughed into the line, and Syrae clenched her thighs at the sound. “It's no problem, where would you like to meet to get it?” She asked immediately, needing to get off this damn phone.

There was silence in the line, “What bout tomorrow? I got an early mornin’ at work. You could pass by the shop and drop it off. That good?” He clarifies.

Stupidly, Syrae nodded her head as if he could see her. But she caught herself quickly and cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah. That sound good. See you tomorrow then.”

The inside of the shop was quiet, but Syrae heard the faint sound of soft rock playing at the back. That was probably the garage where all the magic happened. Syrae looked around while walking towards the reception desk. “Mornin’, I’m looking for Terry? Terry Richmond. Here to drop off a package.”

Despite her kindness, Syrae noticed the condescending look the woman behind the desk gave her. “I’m sorry ma’am, he went out.” Syrae frowned at the snide smile on the woman’s face. Syrae couldn't help but laugh sarcastically. “Well in that case… Miranda.” She drags after looking at her nametag, “Could you tell him to come back from wherever he is and honour our appoi-”

“Oh, you’re here already? Is everythin’ alright?” Terry graced the women with his presence. Dressed in a loose wife beater that was tucked underneath blue overalls in which he used the arms to tie around his waist. Rippled arms exposed while he wiped oil from his hands with a cloth.

Syrae quickly averted her gaze from his sweaty build and turned to the receptionist. “Yeah, just peaches and cream. Miranda here was just assurin’ security.” being the petty woman she is, Syrae scrunched her nose at the woman for extra measure.

Terry scratched his neck, noticing the obvious tension. Women, he thought, something always had to be a problem. “O-kay. Let’s go to the workshop. Thanks Randa.”

Syrae suddenly frowned at him, because there was no need for them to go in the workshop, she could have just given him the wallet and went on with her day. She did not vocalise her thoughts however, simply followed his lead.

The workshop smelled like a cacophony of strong smells that had her nostrils burning. The faint scent of Terry’s cologne seemed to soothe the burn. It was messy, tools everywhere and car parts. A number of men carried tyres and tools around as loud machines whirring had her feeling a little overstimulated.

The lingering stares from men made her regret her choice of wearing a skirt, and following Terry back here. Why did she follow him back here again?

Thankfully, the man led them into a secluded room, which seemed to absorb all the noise. His office. “Sorry bout the noise, figured here would be better.”

Syrae looked around the office. It was neat, had her jealous about his consistency to keep his space clean. Her room was always a hotspot for clean clothes on the floor with the way she raided her own closet everyday trying to find an outfit. “Yeah,much better.” she responded nervously, because nothing about being alone with this man was better.

“Oh, your wallet.” she said as she dug into her bag and handed him the leather accessory. “Right, thank you. A lot. I was ramming my head ‘bout it.” he laughed and Syrae reciprocated the gesture.

“You should be. Why you put everything in there? The poor thang can barely close.”

Terry let out a shoulder-shaking laugh, one that had Syrae wondering about how he liked his breakfast in the morning, or whether he preferred movies or reading, morning or night. Out of the two times she’s met him, she’s never seen him smile with all his teeth out like he was now. “Oh so you were snooping?” he asked with one thick eyebrow raised.

Syrae rolled her eyes playfully, “How else was I ‘sposed to find your number, which you have quite a lot, sir. You deal with pharmaceuticals or somethin’?” she eyed the man as he leaned on the desk with his arms crossed over his chest,only further flexing his deliciously muscular arms.

“Now what if I was and you askin’ that so boldly.” He laughed and shook his head. “But nah, I don’t.”

Their eyes lingered a few seconds too long, which Syrae broke her eyes from his. “Oh, I bought you some coffee, just to say thank you… for the other day.” she reached her hand towards him with a short smile. “Ain’t know what you like, so I just went with black with two sugars.”

Terry accepted the coffee with a quiet murmur of gratitude, hummed in gratitude at the taste. The coffee was more or less how he took it. “You did good, how you figured I would like it black though.”

“Well, you seem a little… practical and straight-forward. Someone who appreciates the simpler things in life. And you also look a little broody.”

Terry shook his head, taking no offence to her last comment. He often got people telling him that. Even his wife. “Hmm, and what about you?” he probably should not be flirting, he definitely shouldn't be. But just a little banter wouldn't hurt, and Syrae seemed to have a lot of it, it was refreshing.

“What about me?” and she shouldn't be entertaining any of this, but the way Terry was staring her down with those damn eyes. He was reeling her in, hook, line and sinker.

“Are you simple?” The question was, well… simple. But Syrae began overthinking it. The depth of it had her thinking over her entire life. “Hmm, I believe I’m a little more complex than that.” It was a joke, just something to keep the conversation going, although it should be put to an end, because Syrae failed to realise that Terry had long removed himself from the desk. Probably when she was handing him the coffee, his scent tickled her nose forcibly. Old wood and cocoa butter.

“How complex?” It was a leading question, an eager one too. One that had her slowly blinking to think it over, that had her biting down on her bottom lip. Her heart thumped a little faster, because damn Terry’s eyes were so beautiful. He had no reason being as beautiful as he was, had no reason to send waves of heat to her stomach that made the dragonflies grow tenfold. The fluttering caused a slight feel of nausea in her stomach.

Still, despite being so nervous, she smiled. “You tryna find out?”

Fuck, why did Syrae follow him back here again?

[dira333]

To those who've been burnt - Shinsou x Reader

Request by @bookishgalaxies - I wrote by vibes only, so I hope you'll like it

“What do boys like?” You ask, staring at the foam on top of your hot chocolate. 

Lately, your Instagram feed has been full of cute latte art pics, of hearts and cats and love confession drawn into the milky froth. But this is real life and your hot chocolate doesn’t even get a dusting of chocolate powder.

“Huh?” Hitoshi asks, almost drowning in his drink. You don’t have to ask to know what he got, bribed the barista to make it despite all common sense. He always gets too many extra shots of espresso.

“Girls like to get flowers. Or cute little trinkets. What do boys like? You know, as random presents?”

“Boys like flowers too,” He says and pushes his plate toward you. “Can you peel my orange?”

“Sure.” You dig your nails into it, feel warmth rising up your spine as you notice how he’s watching you, the movement of your fingers, doesn’t miss the little gasp you take when you manage to squirt orange juice into your face. 

When you drop the first slice into his waiting palm you know you’re already a little more than just friends.

-

“Hey,” Hitoshi knocks against the frame of your door, leans against it as if it’s the only thing keeping him up at the late hour of nine in the morning. “Did you put those flowers on my desk?”

“What?” You look up from this week's report, your cheeks no doubt creased from how heavy your head has rested on your hands. “Oh, yeah, that was me.”

There’s the softest hint of a blush on his cheeks as he opens his mouth again.

“Why, though?”

“They reminded me of you.”

-

“Come on,” Hitoshi pulls you a little closer, “Don’t fall asleep.”

“ButI’msotired,” you mumble groggily. If only coffee tasted better and Energy Drinks didn’t come carbonated. You’d take the world by storm.

“Here.” His hands are warm against your ears. Seconds later the sounds of late-night travel are muffled, from the chewing of the person to your left to the chatter of the school girls opposite to you. You raise your hands to find that he’s put his headphones over your ears. 

Before you can ask about it, Hitoshi presses play on his phone.

You recognize the song immediately, the upbeat tempo making you move your shoulders on instinct until you’re bobbing up and down in your seat, dancing along without ever getting up.

Hitoshi’s grinning into his scarf by the time the song’s ending and you knock your head into his.

“You did that on purpose!” You hiss, probably louder than you’ve wanted to. He just shrugs and presses play on the next one.

-

“Are you free this weekend?”

You look up from the water cooler, fully expecting to witness the newest scoop of office gossip. Instead, you’re now directly facing Hiro, the agency's newest Sidekick.

And he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for an answer.

“I’m busy,” you say, but you’ve never been good at lying. Your quirk makes it even worse. 

“Is it because I’m a colleague?” Hiro’s leaning on the water cooler now, showing off the impressive biceps you’ve heard the other accountants swoon about.

No, you want to say. It’s because I have a crush on the guy who’s more than your best friend but never outright made clear if you were dating. And you went along with it, knowing it would happen eventually. But can you say that you have a boyfriend or would that be too forward?

“Hello?” Hiro taps your temple with his pointer finger. “Are you still in there?”

“Uh, yeah. I- I’m not interested.” There. The truth, plain and simple.

“Oh, okay.” Hiro pushes himself away from the water cooler. “But if you change your mind-”

“I know where to find you,” you joke, noticing only now that Hitoshi’s leaning in the door to his office, arms crossed over his chest. Oh. 

-

“Hey,” Hitoshi stops in front of your apartment building.

Neither of you have addressed the topic at hand. And you don’t think it will happen soon.

You’re fine with that, you really are. You don’t need him to confirm something you already know. Not when he’s holding your hand right now, not when there’s a bouquet from him on your kitchen table right now. So maybe he needs a little more time to put into words what already exists. You’ve always known him to take a little longer to trust reality. That’s just a thing that happens to people who got burned before.

“Hey,” you say back, lean your head against his shoulder. “Do you wanna come up?”

He does not answer, instead he stretches out his hand and draws something onto the dirty rear window of a parked car with his finger.

When you lean over to see, he pushes you away with a tsk. 

“Let me finish first,” he mumbles softly and you giggle, wait until he stops resisting.

There, painted into the dirt, is a little heart, filled with your Initials.

“Are you sure about that?” You ask, “That’s mighty official. This will probably stay on here for the rest of time.”

“I’m fine with that,” he says and taps your nose with the dirty finger, chuckles as you pull away in disgust.

-

In the morning, you’ll draw a heart onto the fogged up mirror.

You’ll hold his hand on the morning commute. Hitoshi will pretend not to notice when you slip your Ipod into his bag, prepped with a playlist just for him.

He’ll pick you up for lunch, hand on the small of your back as you find the most secluded part of the cafeteria.

When the lunch lady asks if you’re dating, you’ll both smile instead of answering and she’ll coo and put a little more meat on both of your plates.

And when Hitoshi and Hiro get paired up for afternoon patrol, Hitoshi will pull him to the side real quick and tell him, calmly but not without warning, that you are his girlfriend.

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[prose-for-hire]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!! 👻🎃 I hope you're having a spooky time and if you still want any little fic ideas how about uhhh running to Spike's crypt for help on Halloween night but he thinks it's just a trick or treater and is ready to give you a piece of his MIND (maybe he does have candy to throw at people tho) until he realises you're hurt👀👀Spike x female or neutral reader?

if you don't fancy the idea no problem either I hope you have fun writing whatever you choose!!

Happy Halloween, lovely !! 🦇

Warning: mention of drinking

Thank you so much for the request, I love this idea!! 💖

It was Halloween. Nothing bad was supposed to happen on Halloween.

The night had been cruel to you. There was a thick fog that had descended, marring your vision and making an already dark cemetery even harder to navigate.

When you found it you were relieved. You knocked on the door in your weakened state but he heard it clearly.

“I’ve already told you thieving wankers to bugger off before I give you something to bloody shout about-!” He stormed towards the door and wrenched it open.

“Oh. Y/n. Don’t have any candy left, love, but if you wanted some sugar…” he raised an eyebrow but it faltered slightly when he caught a familiar scent.

“Spike, not the time, I’m… I’m hurt” you moved your hand away from your middle showing your hand covered in your own blood.

Spike always flirted with you, he has what you might call a soft spot for you. In short, he was obsessed.

But you were a Scooby and usually, any time he got close to you you were pulled away by your friends. They saw the way he looked at you and they didn’t like it.

You were often happily oblivious. You liked that he was friendly and he was naturally flirty and you couldn’t say you didn’t enjoy that too.

He guided you to his sofa and started rattling about grabbing things that might be of some kind of help. You smiled, even through your pain when you saw candy wrappers in the bowl. He had actually been giving out candy to trick or treaters.

“How’d you get in this sorry state, pet?” He asked kneeling before you. He offered you some liquor to help dull the pain. You took it. You were really hurting.

“It’s Halloween so I wanted to do something fun but I sort of stumbled into a nest of vampires”

“And all you got was a nasty scratch?” He said, almost impressed. But the wound was deeper than he would have liked. Not life-threatening, but still.

“My pride hurts a little too” you muttered and his eyes shined in amusement. You inhaled sharply as he cleaned your wound with some sort of antiseptic.

He worked as gently as he could, which was incredibly difficult considering you were very human and annoyingly very breakable. His touch lingered against the exposed skin of your abdomen. His eyes met yours, he looked like he wanted to say something. Something important. But he opted for telling you he was done.

“Thanks, Spike. How’s your Halloween going?”

“Better than yours by all accounts”

“It’s better now I’m here” you let the words tumble out of your mouth before recovering, “and not being eaten by vampires I mean”

“You still might be. Your blood type, it’s the good stuff”

“Do you really not have any candy left?”

“No, the little blighters stole them all” he grumbled for another minute or more. You weren’t sure, you were watching his mouth, those lips, as he spoke.

“It’s nothing, it would have made me feel a little better” you shrugged and he started to grab his duster and shrug it on.

“Need to get some blood”

“You’re… leaving me?” You almost broke his heart. He was prepared to drop everything and tend to you. Stay by your side and never leave. But he has something he needed to do.

“Rest up, pet. I’ll be back” he insisted, switching on his tv for you and throwing a blanket your way before he went.

What you didn’t know, is he had caught the scent of your attackers even through the very alluring smell of your blood.

He went, fought them, dusted them. And then stopped by his local butchers and snatched a handful of candy from some kid in a costume before he returned to you.

He dusted off his jacket and drank his blood without a need for breath. He handed you the bag of candy and you excitedly picked out your favourite ones.

He wanted to sit on the sofa but you needed to lie down to rest your wound. You settled for moving your head up and using his lap as a pillow. His idea, you swear. But it was a very good idea. Probably one of the best he’d ever had.

You were so comfortable in his company (in spirit, you were still in a lot of pain). His hand met yours as you both felt around for candy. Your eyes met his, giggling until it started to hurt your side again. You winced but reached for his face.

“You have a bit of… something. Here” you wiped it away with your thumb. Your finger lingering, you liked the way he moved into your touch. His eyes closing slowly as he savoured the contact.

“Blood and dust” he shrugged after a moment. You frowned and he explained. He had fought and killed all of the vampires that had caused you harm.

You gasped. He had killed for you. You don’t think anyone had done anything so romantic for you before.

That Halloween was the night you realised you loved him.

[andhumanslovedstories]

hey here's another question that I've been thinking about for about a week with no particular breakthrough. I'm so much on the healthcare side that all my advice is on that side. Dude, I read academic articles for this and didn't come up with anything particularly useful. That's why I'm answering this publicly, so other people hopefully add something useful. (Also I know you said you're not looking for opioids. I'm gonna talk about opioids anyway they certainly affect perceptions of chronic pain. In your case, try making clear early on that you don't want opioids.)

I'll say some things that I've noticed from my work to maybe provide some insight into healthcare's side of the exchange. I'm not saying this is the way things should be, I'm giving advice based on how I see things are. I wish I could say this wasn't the case, but when there's a pain medication standoff, the two ways I've seen it work out best for a patient are:

A third party advocates for the patient. (like family, nurse, social worker, different specialist, patient advocate, etc)

Change in caregiver.

I don't like those as the top answers, but that's what I've seen and it's consistent with a lot of the accounts I encountered. There is also a third way that the pain medication standoff can quickly end in a patient's favor:

3. New evidence (new symptom, imaging, vital signs, lab test, etc) forces a reexamination of how we're thinking about the patient.

This is also the "oh shit they seem worse" method, but it can also be "we have gained new information that re-contextualizes the information we already knew." This is like hey the xray came back, your whole bone is dust, or hey your blood pressure is now significantly higher, or hey oops your appendix exploded.

In all three cases, something new happens to change the dynamic. This works for healthcare providers operating in good faith because someone comes in fresh and/or the new dynamic causes the healthcare team to do a new assessment and cost/benefit analysis with this updated information. This works for healthcare providers operating in bad faith because they are either removed from the situation or put in a position where giving pain medication is less onerous than not giving pain medication. I genuinely, genuinely believe far more healthcare employees are operating in good faith rather than bad faith, although the end results can look the same from the patient side. This means I think that far more people are swayed by additional information that makes pain management have more benefit and less cost.

I don't know how actionable any of this is from the patient side unfortunately. I don't love being like "my advice? wait till shift change, see if you can shake it up." Bring someone to the emergency department with you if you have someone available, preferably someone prepared to make a fuss on your behalf. If you don't have a third person, see if you can get one. Hospitals can have patient advocate as a job. If they aren't available, is there someone on your healthcare team that seems most sympathetic? Try asking them if they have any advice. They might be able to give you some, they might advocate for you. Be careful about badmouthing staff to other staff and avoid compliments to one member of the team that relies on insulting another member. You don't know the relationships at play, and it's sort of like how you shouldn't trash talk your old job when interviewing for a new job. You may be completely right in everything you're saying, but being like "my boss was a crazy asshole who refused to recognize my work," doesn't come off as objective. It can undercut your credibility and introduce hostility into the conversation where it is not productive.

I'd also be prepared to talk about what you already tried to relieve the pain. Again, with you I'd mention upfront that you don't want opioids because they don't work for you. Then say what you have already tried at home before you came in (tylenol, ibpurofen, heating, ice, exercises, stretching, shower, other meds, etc) and the effect of both the pain (can't sleep, makes you nauseated, had to call off sick from work, aren't able to be a caregiver to someone, etc) and your already attempted interventions (no significant pain control, symptoms got worse, called PCP, they said emergency was the next step, etc). If your condition is chronic, compare it on the pain scale and the functionality scale to your baseline. (i.e. "I'm always at least a 3 out of ten on the pain scale, but it doesn't usually leave me bedbound." "Normally Symptom improves after Intervention At Home, but that didn't work this time.") Something that can make providers hesitant is if opioids, benzos, or other powerful drugs are the first and only thing a patient says will help and they're unwilling to try anything else, so sometimes demonstrating flexibility with your pain plan can signal "I'm not here for oxy to sell, I'm here because I want my symptoms to stop (and, if relevant, figure out what is causing them)."

Also if you can and feel safe doing so, consider providing feedback to the hospital. Nothing changes without something documented.

[haunteddollz]

stranger things masterlist

pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader (henderson)

summary: The party needs help from someone and to steve's displeasure (not really) the only person they can think of is you.

WARNING(S): cursing, fluff, and angst

author's note: this is from my old account as well sooo...

In the depths of night, Y/n Henderson was washing dishes before her mother arrived home.

She was peacefully listening to her Walkman until she saw her brother and his friends rush into the residence.

She took off her headphones and paused her Walkman. With eyebrows furrowed she looked at the group confused.

She was about to ask until she was rudely interrupted,

“What the h-”

“No time to chat! We need your help.”

The girl looked at them dumbfounded with her lips pursed and head cocked forward.

(if you have an idea of what i mean good for you if not then idk)

The younger Henderson rolled his eyes and exhaled, he continued to explain what the fuck was going on. She continued to wash and put away the dishes as she listened to her brother ramble on about Vecna and him being some powerful dark wizard.

She turned around and leaned against the sink with her arms crossed with an amused look on her face.

Once Dustin saw the look on her face he stopped talking.

“You don’t believe us do you?”

She let out an amused chuckle and replied, “Oh no, I believe you, especially with the shit that happened last time. Mind you I was in the same lab as El. I’m good with weird.”

She smiled that devilish smile and looked at the rest of them. Stopping on the boy that broke her heart.

She continued speaking and pushed herself onto the counter, “I mean c'mon I’m friends with Eddie for god’s sake. People call us freaks. I think I’d be expected to be good with weird.”

The group all nodded in unison and understanding. All saying ‘Yeah that makes sense’ .

They looked at Y/n waiting for an answer. The girl was confused as to why it got so quiet until Robin asked, “Soooo are you helping or not?”

The older Henderson’s eyes widened in realization. “Oh! I completely forgot about that. Uhhhhh- I mean I have nothing else to do so I g-”

She was interrupted by Max, “Great! Then let’s go.” The girl quickly rushed of the room leaving everyone else in the dust.

Everyone nodded and soon started walking along with the girl. Except Y/n stayed planted in her spot with another person. That person being…..

Steve 'The Hair’ Harrington

She rolled her eyes at him and tried to walk away but before she could even step out of the kitchen Steve stepped in the way.

Y/n huffed in annoyance, not wanting to hear anything he had to say. She turned to him and said, “Get out of my way Harrington.” He cringed at the formalities between them. He couldn’t help but think of what they used to be but it was his fault. He broke her heart.

The look that she gave Steve sent shivers down his spine. He felt the built-up guilt bubbling inside him from three years ago.

Before, they were a happy couple both in their freshman year. They were the 'it couple’. They were happy until their junior year. Junior year they started to drift apart. Steve started spending more time with Nancy.

Y/n felt neglected and turned to Eddie Munson. They built a friendship they never thought was possible. That was until she heard about Steve’s party and some events that occurred at the Harrington residence.

Y/n was heartbroken. Steve still tried to act like he didn’t fuck Nancy the next day. She told Eddie and all he said was, “Harrington is pussy whipped.” Hearing that Y/n rolled her eyes and laughed with her best friend.

The ex-couple is still standing in the kitchen just staring at each other.

Steve started to speak, “I just, I know what I did was fucked up and I’m so sorry for what I did. I know I can’t change the past but I know I’ve changed. I just wanted to give you closure I guess.”

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows in frustration.

“I don’t need closure. That was a long time ago. We’ve both grown up and I hope we’ve both have at least on your part. Yeah sure I was upset and angry but in the end, all I wanted was for you to be happy. And if Nancy made you happy then to hell with my feelings. I knew I would get better in the meantime. I mean yeah I still have feelings for you so what. I thought I would get over you and let you be but it seems like only one part actually worked…”

As the girl kept rambling on and on. A habit that she has when she’s nervous much like Robin. Steve tries to stop the girl from rambling to have what he needs to say.

“Y/n…..”

She still rambles on.

He says laughing, “Y/n!”

The Henderson replied, “What?”

Steve chuckled while running his fingers through his hair, “You’re rambling. After a while when I was with Nancy more like when she said that our love was bullshit. I thought about you. I thought of how happy I was with you and how I wasn’t that big of a douchebag with you. You made me a better person and it finally came to me. I still love you and I always have. I haven’t felt anything for Nancy in the past two years. It’s always been you.”

(ewwww cringe)

Tears came to both of their eyes.

“Steve I get that. I do still love you but I can’t be with you again. I put that all behind me but I will gladly see what our friendship could turn into.” Steve nodded frantically saying, “Yes! I mean yes of course that’s all I need.”

With smiles on their faces, they walked out of the girl's house with a newfound friendship and ran to catch up with the party.

[jolalibrary]

iii - just say that you need me

javier peña x f!reader | chapter three of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. an: the amount of people who look forward to tuesday's makes me grin. for those who are new, i don't have a tag list. wordcount: 2.6k.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

You should say yes more. 

to you or to my pop 

To your pop. I know you wouldn’t say no to me. 

you sure about that 

I’d bet my next paycheck on it. 

for you I’ll say yes to him once

Good. Now we have that out the way answer what the worst date you’ve ever been on was

shit. going with the hard hitting questions today

Just getting you to share, open up

probably when I first came back from colombia someone from my town where I live

They a bad host, bad dinner guest? Gimme more Javi cmon. You said you’d entertain me.

baby, im trying to entertain you but you told me to stop

I said stop flirting while I’m eating and answer the question

she wouldn’t stop asking me for details on escobar

Ah. Yeah I can see how discussing that would be a mood killer.

yeah didn’t wanna go in the first place either

So if we ever meet, do not ask about your Colombian experience. Got it. 

you can ask, doesn’t mean I’d tell you 

Ha! Good to know. I wouldn’t though. If you wanna tell me, I think you will. 

thanks, what’s yours?

Well I was stood up when we first began texting. Think that’s pretty bad, enough.  

he’s an idiot because only an idiot would stand you up 

You haven’t seen me, remember 

statement still stands 

Stop being so charming.

you still eating

No.

then I can flirt

Most of the time, he ignores the mail. 

Lets it pile up on the entryway dresser until his pop makes another reference to it. Unlike his pop, he is never in a rush to open them, knowing no good comes from the contents inside.

The same people contact him. The bureau being one. Sipping his coffee as he glares at the usual federal sign on the envelope, wondering how many more times they’ll try asking him to come in for a chat.

This afternoon, though, the envelope isn’t brilliant white, but rather off-cream. 

Peeling a bit, thumb digging in as he drags it across, the ripping sound filling the small space. It’s only as he opens it does he realise who it’s from. 

His eyes stare at the letter, taking in the number—the one in triple digits with his phone provider logo in the top corner. The number which is making him feel sick, the more he stares at it over and over again. 

“Fuck.” 

Folding it, he swallows. 

Shit.

Motherfucker.

He stuffs it away, tucks it under magazines and other leaflets, as though by keeping it out of sight, it’ll go away.

But it's there.

The edge of it sticking out. He even blinks, and the number is there, tattooed on the back of his eyes. Taunting him—the price of speaking to you. 

It's not that Javi can't afford it. He’s had a chunk of money sitting, gaining dust, in his account since he came home. Only able to force portions on his pop as and when he felt he could get away with it. 

But this was a lot. More than he’d bargained on, more than he even knew he could spend simply by replying to someone. 

There's a chance your day won't be done just yet—his day beginning far earlier than yours even began—but he pulls his phone out, fingers pressing into the keys.

so apparently talking to you is costly  Oh, you've had your bill. I feel I should ask whether I'm worth it? 

It’s instant—the way you make the nauseous feeling vanish. How you force it to slide back to where it came from, and in its place, warmth spreads. All accompanied by a smile on his lips. 

He doesn’t want to show his hand too much. Better at concealing, playing the long game when standing face to face.

This requires a skill he hasn't yet gained. Simply focusing on not sounding ridiculous, or over the top. Unnecessary. Like some of the desperate men, he's happened to arrest over the years.

Even if his chest flutters and his mind screams, of course. Wants to ask, isn't it obvious? But he chooses something easier, uncomplicated.  

yes just didn’t expect it  I had my phone bill the other day. I get it.  did your heart fall out your ass No. But I will be eating ramen for the next month.  We can stop texting so much though, if it’s costing too much.  would rather my bill be double than stop talking to you  You’re such a flirt. 

He drains the rest of his mug, leaning back in the chair—hearing the sound of approaching boots from his Pop’s side of the house. Fingers typing, all hurried and determined 

Don’t forget I’m out for drinks and a movie.  I remember don’t worry 

He remembers as soon as you remind him.

Realising it's the reason you're able to reply right now. You’d been telling him almost every night for the past week. All worried, as though hating the idea of breaking the nightly tradition the two of you have concocted. 

In a way, Javi should have assumed the bill would be high with the number of texts the two of you have been sending. How frequent it’s been—how nice it’s been. 

Nice things do usually come with a tag. 

you decided on sweet or salty  Verdict is still out. You sure about waiting to do the crossword?  if we don’t do it tonight, we’ll do two the next day  You sure? more than sure have a great time 

“Y’sure you don’t fancy coming with me, Jav?”

He thinks of it, tapping his phone against his palm as he thinks of your text the other night. The one about him trying to say yes—something curling in his chest as he realises he’ll be alone, alone if he doesn’t. 

A sentiment he didn’t mind on paper, but now confronted with, rather despised. 

 “Alright, yeah. Can—can I get changed?” 

Mid-grabbing his own jacket, his Pop turns, surprise knitted into his wiry brows. “Y-yeah, sure, I’ll….”

“I’ll meet you at the truck?” 

And he does. All without complaint. Plaid shirt on, a smile being forced as soon as the truck pulls off the drive. He doesn't even complain about the radio choice or the fact his Pop always takes the main roads when he could cut down the dusty roads. 

When he arrives, he doesn’t mind how many hands he shakes, one after the next. He tries not to grit his teeth as each person says the usual things, they’re proud, he’s grown, when is he settling down? Each time he laughs it off. Spanish rolling from his tongue as he smiles and winks. 

It’s performative. 

The old version of him coming out from a hidden place. 

Always there, ready, as his hand shakes another person's hand—one he’s already forgotten the name of. Someone he’s sure he’s met before, too. 

It always happens. The small-town boy who took down drug cartels has become somewhat of a celebrity tale. A thing to gawk at when he visits the store. Chucho's boy who ran away to Colombia and now hides away on the ranch.

For the amount of time it's been, he'd foolishly expected it to die down—but it hasn't. Not enough, anyway. 

After enough time, he excuses himself, sneaking down the corridor near the bathroom. Leaning against the wall, fingers trying to rub out a knot that hasn’t yet appeared in his skull. The one pulsing, threatening to build behind his eye.

He’s unsure what he wants to do, what he needs. Retrieving his phone, just clicking around, before finding himself on your texts—feeling better for it.

Reading them back, smirking at some, smiling wide at others. A shape forming in his head, little details he’d amassed to make up you. A person he was pretty sure meant more to him than evening company, but it seemed tricky to delve too far into it. 

That is until his phone vibrated. 

Just wanted to tell you I miss you. Even if that’s weird. 

His fingers hover over the keys, a retort quick—there in his touch.

Slowly he presses it out, hearing the click even over the bar’s music as he double and triple taps each button he wants, until it forms what it is he thought:

not weird, you drunk I’m tipsy, not drunk. Still mean it. good cause i miss you too

you never said how the movie was

As someone who flies a lot, I shouldn’t have watched it.

that bad

Will probably have to hold the hand of my seat mate the next time work makes me fly. 

I’m sure they won’t mind 

Depends on the length of my nails I guess. 

some people don’t mind nails clawing in certain situations

You trying to tell me you like nails down your back, Javi? 

if the situation is right, yes 

What about in your hair?

now who’s being a tease 

I’m learning so much tonight. 

and your putting images in my head 

I’d love to know what I look like in it, since you haven’t seen me.

beautiful, you look beautiful 

My face is burning. 

your day been ok

Yeah, was fine. Work has been rough. 

you want to talk about it

Not really, it’s stupid anyway. Plus, would rather do the crosswords and hang with you.

you do have two to make up to me

Best get giving me the clues then, Javi. 

four letters, begins with f 

Is this a Javi crossword or a real crossword 

baby, cmon 

Fuck?

fork 

someone’s in a dirty mood

You’re such a dick. Give me a real clue. 

There's not a point in time where he can track how his thoughts went from nothing to you. But, he thinks about you all the time.

Has been doing so constantly for the last two days, at least—the occasional vibrations from his phone making his lips twitch and his mind wander. Javi’s brain exploding with wonder at what your reply could say. 

Sometimes, he tries not to check immediately. Test—see—how long he can go before he does. It’s not been going well.

An excitement dashing through his veins that fills his chest, warms his neck and makes a ridiculous grin appear (one he’s caught accidentally in the mirror).

The back and forth has been quicker—for as costly as it was—outside of routines and work. His fingers have even improved in the speed of tapping the same key to get one single letter.

Each text makes him feel like he learns a new nugget about you, gathering a new piece of the puzzle—an idea of you forming in front of his eyes. One he likes—craves more of—wishing for other tidbits similar to how you like coffee after breakfast, not before. 

That you don’t care for birthday cake, but love cookies. 

morning hermosa hope you managed to grab the coffee

He doesn’t expect to hear from you.

Remembering that your time management in the morning isn’t to be admired. You are someone who is either awake too early or too late—never in the middle.

But, when he finishes. Sweat clinging to every muscle, he’s surprised to find nothing.

Even a little disappointed.

finished up for the day, unsure whether to lounge around on the porch or push the boat out and lounge in the barn

You’ve become such a part of his day, his shoulders sink when he steps out of the shower to see nothing.

His heart slips down inside his chest, resting unsteadily on his ribs as he checks and checks. His fingers fluff his hair as he runs his fingers through it before finding a strand, twisting, and twisting.

I’m probably worrying about nothing but just let me know you’re ok

A part of him had worried this would happen.

That he would allow the attachment to grow—ropes and threads wrapping around him—and it would be taken from under his feet.

He has a history of becoming hooked—usually combining itself with his need to help, to make someone’s day better, easier.

And on paper, he knew it was odd. To care for someone he hadn’t ever even met. But he cares all the same.

Copious amounts, in fact.

Far past an, ‘I miss you’—something else entirely, not that he’d admit as much.

hermosa I’m really getting worried now

He doesn’t want to call.

Doesn’t want to invade your privacy, your space. But it’s knotting inside of him. The things he’s seen, rushing to the surface, pecking away, making him overthink.

His mind conjures ideas that you’re hurt, wounded. That you’re crying, alone. Each flash of his past has the curated blob-of-a-face he’s created for you, written over it.

His fingers twitch, hand moving to his pocket before remembering there are no cigarettes to be found there. He quit. Ages ago. Felt better for it—for the most part—until now.

Now when all he wants is to focus on the taste, the way smoke swirls with the warm Texas air—

Hey, I'm so sorry, I had a bad day. Just didn’t check my phone.  shit hermosa, you scared me.  almost called you.  Really? yeah  Would you? what call you Yeah?

[Dialing number…]

you declined  I did

His heart sinks, crashes, and plummets. 

Then a new vibration, one that travels down his fingers to his wrist, suddenly staring at an instruction: Give me your landline number, be cheaper. For both of us. 

Glancing into the living room, he taps the number in for you. Hating each precious second he wastes by having to delete a letter that should be a number.

Pushing the chair back, hearing it screech as he hovers. Nervousness thumps through him, making him shake, vibrate. 

Staring, willing the phone to ring.

Even as he tries to collect himself, his mind has already begun running away from him. Hearing his pulse thump in his ear, thump, thump—

And then it’s ringing—you’re ringing. 

His voice shouts out he’ll get it as he picks up the phone from the hook. 

“Javi… that you?”

Grinning, he laughs, light and airy. “Hi. Yeah, it’s me.” 

Silence blankets his ears and the air, thumb circling a knot in his forehead. 

Smiling, he changes the phone to his other ear. “Knew you’d sound pretty. You have a nice voice.” 

“Shut up, Javi. I’ve said three words.”

“And a few more.”

He hears you suck in a breath as heat rushes to his ears, feeling the edges of his lips curl into a smile.

“You wanna talk about it or talk about something else?” 

He hears you take a breath another breath. Different this time, all accompanied by a shuffling sound from your end.

“Something else. If that… that’s okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Alright, lemme… lemme think for a second—“

You clear your throat, “You have a nice voice, too, by the way.”

Pausing, he bites the inside of his cheek. “Like you imagined?”

“Better, honestly.”

“I could have called you. I have this additional thing on our plan—so my Pop could call. When I was away.” 

“From when you were in Colombia?”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he nodded. “Yeah…” 

“Well, if this conversation goes well, you may get a new number to add to your phone book.” 

“That so? Who’s flirting now.”

You laugh, sweet—fluttering its gorgeous wings down the phone to his ear as he readjusts the phone.

Dropping his voice, he turns more to the walls. “So, what you wearing, baby?”

“Oh my god, Javi.”

He doesn’t even mute his laughter, just lets it flow from him—rushing through the house. Not even caring if his Pop can hear him in the next room.

"I'm wearing nothing."

"Hermosa, you tease."

You laugh, and it's different. It's rich, and makes the room glow around him, without you even being here.

"I'm not really, I'm in a baggy t-shirt."

"Not as sexy, but I'm sure I can work with it."

You snort, "Javi, stop."

He wonders if your cheeks are warm. He hopes they are.

Leaning against the wall, he smirks, if only to himself. "I like how you say my name, Hermosa."

an: thank you so much for all being wonderful, i heart you

[ticklishprincey]

Heyy! I have only just seen ur account but I thought it was so cute! Is there anyway u can write a tkl fic with Lee!ford pretty pretty please? You don’t have too and if you do just take ur time and don’t rush 💗💗

✿.｡.:* ☆:**:. Oh my Zeus you are so sweet thank you I just organized it!!! Yes of course I can for you my lovely anon! (I've actually been looking for a reason to write for Gravity Falls hehe) ◦•●◉✿ Warnings: Tickling, hurt/comfort (lmk if there's any more) ◦•●◉✿ Pairings: Ler!Stan & Lee!Ford ✿◉●•◦𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢, 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚢𝚜◦•●◉✿ Ford was in his lab, as usual. Staring down at his work, listening to the incessant ticking of the clock as seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours. Tick. Tick. Tick. He looked down at his hands. A million memories were flashing through his head. Tick. Tick. Tick. They had called him a monster, a deformity, a mistake. Tick. Tick. Tick. And of course they wouldn't now. He was a renowned scientist. Tick. Tick. Tick. Then why did it still hurt? The ticking of the clock was replaced by a knocking - Knocking was generous, actually, it was more like banging. "FORD! COME OUT AND SHOW ME YOU'RE ALIVE!" A sigh of relief escapes Ford's parted lips. "It's just Stan-" He thought. He pushed his work to the side, standing and crossing the lab to the door. His brother, Stan, stood there staring back at him. Was that... concern that he saw? Deep lines etched in his brother's face, eyebrows creased with worry, dark circles made themselves known under his eyes from lack of sleep. "Oh thank god- Are you okay? You've been cooped up in here for days." Days? Had it really been that long? "I- Days?" "Yes, days, Sixer. What's up with you?" Ford shoved his hands in his pockets - A nervous habit he picked up as a teenager. If he didn't show his deformity people couldn't point it out. Unfortunately, Stan knew this habit well and picked up on it almost immediately. "You thinking about the hand thing again?" He asked softly. Ford nodded, beginning to brush it off until Stan wrapped his arms around the scientist. His breath caught in his throat at the sudden affection from his brother, it wasn't often that he got a good word, let alone a hug. "Your hands are great. You're great. Any asshole that says otherwise can take a long walk off a short pier. Got me?" Ford chuckled and nodded. Stan grinned, leading his twin over to the small couch in the corner of the lab. He sat and patted the spot next to him, where Ford took his seat as well. Stan took one of his brother's hands, along with a pen from his pocket. "S-Stan nononono-" Ford's pleas were cut short by a loud squeak as his brother dragged the tip of the pen down the palm of his hand. Stan grinned in satisfaction. "Oh come on, Sixer, you love this and you know it." He couldn't exactly deny that claim, his body language betrayed him in that field. Instead of pulling his hand away, he kept it in his brother's grasp, opting to use his free hand to cover his face and attempt to save at least some dignity. "Shuhut uhuhup!" "You know that isn't possible." Stand continued to draw on his brother's palm, random shapes and words along the sensitive skin, pointing out the different fingers as he drew on them individually. "I like this one, and this one, this one's my favorite-" he chuckled as he drew on Ford's middle finger, "And this one's good too, and this one, aaaand I like this one too." "Stahahan this isn't fahahair!" "Oh come on, it's not my fault your hands are ticklish. What kind of sibling would I be if I didn't take advantage of it?" "Fuhuck off!" "Oooooo, didn't know you had such a potty mouth." "Stahahahap!" The tickling immediately stopped at the request. Ford grinned up at his brother a light pink hue dusting his cheeks and ears. Stand grinned back, getting up and heading towards the door. "Dinner's ready whenever you're hungry." After he left, Ford looked down at what had been written on his hand. "I love you more than my hat" Ford smiled fondly, making a mental note to pause his experiments for a bit. He didn't want to wash it off. ✿◉●•◦𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚍◦•●◉✿ ✿.｡.:* ☆:**:. Again, thank you so so so much for your request as well as the kind words, I appreciate all of you guys so so sooooo much!

[fishii-writes]

flower crowns - osamu dazai

paring: dazai x fem!reader

cw: established relationship, reader wears a dress, dazai calls reader "bella" as in bella-donna, really just pure fluff

a/n: first fic... i hope whoever reads this likes it, please let me know if i made any mistakes! enjoy :) also i wrote this some time ago, for one of my mutual's writing event, but they deactivated their account so i'm posting this anyways. happy birthday to the silly!!

word count: 849

Your breath hitches for a moment, using your nails to make a thin slit in the stem. Carefully, you slide another stem through the slit one, and repeat for a few more. There you have it, fully made of white flowers. Now, you just have to wait for your dearest to come to arrive so that the real fun can start.

For some context, you’ve noticed your lover has been really stressed lately, and wanted to do something nice for him. But you know he’d never tell you, he would just go on about his day until he can think alone at night. Thus, you left early in the morning and left a note on your bedside table, reading;

“Good morning, my love. Want to know where I am? Check my location. Also, remember to wear something light coloured, if you want to match! :)”

Now, you’re in the middle of a field of daisies and dandelions, wearing a light yellow frilly-sleeved dress that falls down to just above your ankles. Much like your surroundings, it has little white flowers peppered all over the skirt of it. The bodice of the dress fits your waist, and has a thin white belt with a white flower on it, to match. It shouldn’t be too long until he finds you, knowing he would get curious quickly.

A soft sigh escapes your lips, as you wonder what has him so stressed. Not a moment goes by, even if you’re not actively thinking, that you can’t wait to see him. And as if the universe had heard you, a car pulls up to the far side of the flower field, on the road of the highway. Well, not really a highway, more like a road that’s not in the city and it’s rarely crowded.

And that car is Dazai’s. He locks the car, then jumps over the flimsy fence. 

“Bellaaaa, how could you leave meeeee~” he whines, running closer to you as you walk towards him.

The moment he gets close enough, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him. You can’t muffle your giggles as he kisses all over your face and neck, smiling against your neck when he stops.

“So, what is all this?” he asks, pulling his lips away from your neck, but keeping his arms around your waist.

“Well, you could call it a date,” you trail off when you notice his shirt. A soft smile forms on your lips as you realise his shirt matched the exact colour of your dress. The shirt is plain, with a slightly darker coloured collar and end of the short sleeves. You’re snapped out of your thoughts by the slightly mocking voice of your lover.

“Love, you’re staring.” he teases, getting an eye roll from you.

“Oh, sorry, I was just confused as to how you knew what shirt to wear. Y’know, the one we bought that specifically matched this dress.” 

A soft smile forms on his lips as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head. He always knew how to divert the conversation, as he does in this one.

“Lets just say I checked your closet and the dress you’re wearing now was missing so I guessed you were wearing it and wore this one, in hopes to match.” he chuckles, watching your expression change to a slightly shocked one. He really did go out of his way to make sure you two match, just like you asked. Your shock doesn’t last for long, it becomes a giggle.

“Hm? What’s so funny, bella-donna?” he asks, keeping one arm wrapped around your waist as he uses his other hand to fix your hair. He watches as you keep giggling, the way your eyes close and a faint pink hue dusts your cheeks. One word he would use to describe you was most definitely beautiful. For the other, a word anyone else could use to describe him could be smitten, or even mesmerised. 

“Eh, nothing. Enough of that, I have something to show you!” you pull away from his hug, taking his hand as you lead him to where you were making little flower creations. He slightly tilts his head, watching you lean down to grab something, then stand back up. You gesture for him to lean down a bit, he does as you instruct. You carefully place the flowers on his head, then let him stand back up.

“What is it?” he asks, adjusting it on the crown of his head. You smile in response, taking another one and placing it on your own head.

“A flower crown! I made a few earlier, so we can match!” 

If you ask him, your eyes were almost sparkling. In such admiration, no words are exchanged, just a gesture. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips. It catches you by surprise, but who would resist a kiss from him? Your star-eyed boyfriend. And if you look closely, his eyes only glimmer when you’re around. You kiss him back, a smile unable to keep itself off your lips.

taglist: @jomamaofficial , @xansposts

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© fishii-writes 2024

[thesillygoofyjester]

Angel dust was not having a good day.  

He was locked in his dressing room, with a furious Valentino,  

“-DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH YOUVE COST ME? YOU��RE LUCKY I DONT KILL YOU FOR THIS!” 

The reason for Valentinos rage? Angel had fucked up and pissed off an important business partner Val had been working with, the slimy shark demon had stormed out and lost Val's deal 

Val grabbed his hair roughly and pulled his face up to look at him.  

“you’re going to pay for this one Angel dust”  

His voice was low, with sharp rage hidden right in front of his eyes, his glowing red-hot eyes and sharp teeth. 

-SMACK-! 

Valentino hit him, hard, he fell to the ground, he tried to hold himself up with his elbows, but his arms shook, and his cheek stung. He felt a single hot tear drop into his fur, burning him like a brand, Valentino loomed over him, whispering darkly 

“Once I'm done with you, you're going to go out there, and earn back every dollar you lost me, I don't care how many greasy truckers you have to fuck, or how long it takes, do you understand-” 

“VAL!” 

Valentinos eyes narrowed as his head shot to the doorway, Angel slowly looked over- Vox. 

The media demon himself was standing in the doorway of his dressing room, posture tense, arms crossed, eyes narrow, and cold 

“I'm a little busy vox” Val ground out, a growl deep in his throat 

“What the FUCK Val! I've been looking for you everywhere!” Vox stalked into his room, glaring at Val, blind to angel dust on the floor, staring at two of the most powerful overlords in hell, having an argument in his room. 

he sucked in a tight breath, making himself as small as possible and backing away, crawling backwards on the floor, until Valentino swiftly moved his boot, digging the heel into his hand, subtle, but a clear message “don't move unless I tell you to” 

“DID YOU SPEND THIS?” vox shoved a receipt in Vals face, electricity buzzing between his antenna “yeah, so? I splurged a bit, what's the problem?” Val shrugged it off 

Vox's hackles raised, and his voice glitched “G-G-GODAMNIT VAL WEVE BEEN OVER THIS, you can't spend this kind of money, from our bank account, without telling ME-” 

-SMACK-! 

Angels un-swollen eye widened, as he stared at Vals raised hand, and vox’s cracked screen 

Val had just hit vox. It was almost laughable, if it hadn't been so terrifying, vox, the tv demon, the media overlord, and even more terrifying, he hadn't fought back, he had just taken it? 

Vox looked up at Val through fingers covering his cracked screen “Val-” 

-SMACK-! 

-SMACK-! 

“VAL!” vox had caught Vals wrist, the rings in his eye pulsing. Val glared at him, “You ungrateful-!”  

“Oh, so I'm the ungrateful one?”  

Vals eyes widened, as Vox's screen cracked itself into a grin “do you need a reminder of why you’re here?” vox grabbed vials face with his other hand, squeezing until his claws pierced skin as Valentino tried to pull away 

“have you forgotten that I made you? You'd be N-N-NOTHING without me!” 

“I'm sorry voxxy, i-i-” vox slammed Valentino into the floor, pinkish blood pooling around him 

“don't call me t-that, I have put up with your SHIT, for too long” vox planted his boot on Vals chest, pressing on it 

“I have let you hit me, c-c-rack my screen, scream at m-me, waste my money on your ch-cheap w-w-whores, and I have been loyal to you the whole GOD-D-DAMNED TIME” 

Angel looked down and saw the blood getting on his hands and in his fur, he crawled back quickly and silently, before freezing up as Vals eyes shot to him 

Vox put even more pressure on Vals chest with his boot, before bending down to grab Vals face, and forcing him to look into vox’s hypnotic eye, “I l-loved you once Val, you ruined me, I'm s-s-sorry for ever being foolish enough to fall for y-you”  

Val wheezed, voice weak, “f-fuck you... vox” 

Vox pushed his heel through Vals chest, the sound of bones crunching under his boot echoing through the room, he silently lifted his foot, and angel caught a glimpse of the iconic silver-white glow that came from angelic steel. Vox had planned this. 

Vox stepped away from the corpse, looking around the room, angel froze as vox’s eyes caught his 

“... you weren't supposed to be here” is all vox said, looking mildly surprised. 

Angel tried to let out a laugh, but it just came out as a dry sob “it is my dressing room after all” 

Vox stepped toward him, and angel shrunk back, vox paused, before offering his hand, angel delicately took it, hand trembling. Vox grabbed it, and pulled angel up, angel swayed on his feet, vision blurring and dancing in front of him. 

Vox looked down at angels blood-matted fur, and his own blood stained shoes, “let's get you cleaned up, hmm?” Angel nodded, dizzy, and relaxed by Vox’s suddenly calming voice 

Vox lifted up the much slimmer demon into his arms and carried him bridal style down the hall, he was lucky it was night, and most of his employees had already gone home. When he finally got to the penthouse, he felt angel stiffen in his arms, but instead of heading to the bedroom, like angel expected him to, he headed straight for the bathroom.  

Upon entering he gently placed angel on the floor, angel swayed for a moment before regaining his balance and turned to face the tv-faced demon 

Vox had already turned away from him “clean yourself up, and feel free to use whatever's in the shower, I'll get you something...” he eyed the messy, revealing, outfit that angel was wearing “...decent, to wear” And with that, he shut the door behind him, leaving angel alone with his thoughts 

The water was still hot, one of the perks of being rich, angel supposed, it ran down his body, soaking his fur as the pink tinged blood ran down into the drain. Valentinos blood  

He supposed he must've still been in shock, because he was crying, crying because Val was dead. Isn't this what he had wanted? Hadn't he been praying for Vals death? Shouldn't he be over joyed right now? So why did his heart ache? 

Vox... why had he killed Val? Everyone knew that their relationship was the most brutal on-again off-again in all of hell, but had it really gotten enough to the point that vox felt the need to kill him? Remember? A small voice in the back of his head whispered Val HIT vox. He broke his screen, he was being abused the voice whispered just like you 

Except vox wasn't like him, because vox had the power and resources to get out, he had just taken it, done whatever Val wanted him to, because Val owned his soul – his soul. Was he still under contract? Was he going to lose his job? Oh god, how was he going to get his fix? He needed his job! His breath started speeding up, his chest rising and falling as he gasped, his eyes flitting wildly around the room 

What if vox killed him for seeing Vals death, what if he-! 

“ANGEL DUST!” he flinched, quickly responding “y-yeah?” he heard vox sigh outside the door “thank Satan... I was starting to think you had drowned yourself!” vox let out an uncomfortable chuckle, before he heard a faint shuffling, as though someone was placing something right outside 

“there's clothes outside for when you're done, I-... take as long as you need” angel waited until he heard the tell-tale sign of someone walking away before turning of the shower and stepping out. Opening the door just a crack to make sure no one was outside, he took the neatly folded towel and clothes and held them close to his chest. 

Towel first, he quickly rubbed his fur dry with what may have been the softest towel he had ever touched. Next, the clothes, they were fairly simple, a pair of navy sweatpants, and a neon teal t-shirt emblazoned with the bright red vox-tec logo. 

After double and triple checking to make sure he looked good, he stepped out of the bathroom into the dimly lit apartment, “Mista Vox!? Ya here?!” a door shrouded in shadows opened, and there stood vox, in a clean version of the suit he had been wearing before, no longer stained with blood, the other new thing about him, was his screen, it was no longer shattered, instead, all that remained was a small crack in the corner. 

“you’re out, good.” vox walked towards him, his movements, calm and practiced, as if he hadn't just murdered his boyfriend. Angel just nervously fidgeted with his hands, watching vox until he arrived at the door, and opened it. “Well? You coming?” vox asked, a slight teasing lilt in his voice. Angel felt his shoulders relax marginally, he didn't want thanks for saving angel. Angel gave a pained smile  

“Y-yeah...” 

As they walked into the elevator, angel stood awkwardly next to vox, who seemed wholly uninterested in the entire ordeal, this vox was nothing like the friendly charismatic one you saw on tv, or the bitter, vengeful, short tempered one he saw in the dressing room, this one seemed cold, and tense, and... anxious? 

“Why’d you do it?” the words left his lips before he could stop them, vox turned to him, raising one eyebrow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about” 

“Valentino? You kill-” vox’s hand shot over his mouth “Valentino, hasn’t been seen, in 2 hours, hardly a reason to say he’s dead” his face went cold and stoic “unless you want to be the one who killed him” 

Angel dust wasn’t stupid enough to not get the barely concealed threat “stop talking unless you want to be framed” he looked down at his feet, “Sorry Mista vox” 

Vox looked down as well, “but I suppose if someone was to kill him, it might’ve been because they realized he was growing too powerful, perhaps they thought him a threat to their power... or perhaps they were just done with taking his shit.” 

Angels eyes widened, he hadn’t expected vox to actually tell him anything, he opened his mouth to say something, but in that moment, the elevator dinged, and the doors opened in front of them, he sighed as vox strode out in front of him, he quickly followed as vox stalked through the halls of the studio. 

After a solid 10 minutes of walking, they arrived at a small side door, vox opened it and held it for angel dust, he stepped through the door, to see a sleek navy limousine, a small, heterochronic, aquatic demon quickly opened the door for him and vox, before getting in the driver's seat. Vox looked at him, raising an eye brow 

-oh 

“The hazbin hotel please?” 

The demon looked at vox, who nodded, the limo pulled out, and peeled off down the street 

Angel took this as an opportunity to see the limo, it was simple, a black interior, with cyan led stripes down the sides, none of the fluff or haze that Valentinos limo had. At least the seats were comfortable. Angel felt his eyelids droop, surely vox wouldn't mind if he rested his eyes for a minute, right? Right... 

Vox was incredibly tired. Today had been one of the most exhausting days of his life, between having 4 separate interview's, today was also the day he had decided to act out his plan, and murder Val. But one variable he hadn’t accounted for was Angel dust being there. The lanky spider knew what he had done, and he shouldn’t be risking him even being alive. 

But when he looked in the demons terrified eyes, his swollen cheek, and his fur stained with blood... he saw himself 

Which of course was how he ended up with the spider in question asleep on him He turned to look at angel dust, sleeping so... well certainly not peacefully. He was... shivering? Trembling? Both? He heard the demons breath quicken as he thrashed. “n-no please I'm sorry, I won't do it again please stop, Valentino!”  

Vox sucked in a breath at the vulnerable display, the logical side of his brain said it wasn’t his problem, but looking at this soul, tormented by the same demons he was, he couldn't help but feel a bit of pity. 

 Sighing, and knowing he was probably going to regret this, he shrugged off his suit jacket and laid it over him, his fingers lingering on angels back, he gently pressed his hand flush to the demons back, softly rubbing it until he felt the spider under him begin to relax, he ceased his circular movements, but let his hand rest on angels back, he sighed looking out the window at the hotel on the tall hill in front of them 

Charlie was freaking out, angel dust had been out for 4 hours past curfew, and hadn’t texted them once, everyone in the hotel (sans Alastor) had tried calling and texting him, to no avail 

“w-what if has dead! What if he got kidnapped! What if!” “Babe.” Charlie turned to her girlfriend, Vaggie, who was gently holding her by the shoulders “angels an adult, he can handle himself” Vaggie smiled comfortingly, but it did little to sooth Charlies nerves  

“But what if he's hurt!?” Charlie asked, desperation tinging her voice 

“Then that's on him kid” husker tiredly interjected “he aint your responsibility” 

“But-! wait what's that?” Charlie pulled herself away from Vaggie and went to go look out the window, a sleek navy limo was pulling up the driveway, far too nice for this side of hell 

Charlie stepped outside, Vaggie and husk behind her, Alastor was already outside, his trademark grin was tight, and his eyes were narrow  

“al... What's going on?” Alastor's grin sharpened “it appears our arachnid friend has caught the attention of another overlord!” 

At that moment, the car door opened and Vox, leader of the Vee’s, media overlord and tv demon, Stepped out. But he wasn’t the only one, because in his arms, unconscious, was angel dust. 

Vaggie lunged forward, spear pointed straight for vox’s throat, directly under his tv “what are you doing here” she growled 

He lifted his head, looking rather uninterested in her threat “well I was trying to return this to you” he said, motioning to angel dust, “but since you clearly don't want him ill just...” he stepped away, a sly grin on his face 

“you’d be smart to hand angel dust over” Alastor ground out, his teeth grinding together, his smile tense and forced.  

Vox's smile relaxed just a fraction, and he extended angel dust out to Alastor, who tried to pick up the delicate spider demon, but Angel simply curled into vox, holding him tightly, and whispered a single word to him

“stay”

vox whispered back “I can’t” and angels whisper was so quiet he almost missed it “please” 

So vox did 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Overtime 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss, Mr. Hansen, runs you ragged but you find solace in an unexpected friend.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, Jake Jensen.

Author’s Note: This one is dedicated to my dearest @thezombieprostitute

Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

It isn’t until a few minutes after Jensen goes that you dare to taste the latte. You’re still wary of his generosity but why should you be? The few times you’ve interacted with him, he’s only ever been helpful. Yet, that is his job. He’s supposed to fix the printer and figure out why your cursor keeps flicking into the corner. 

It isn’t as cinnamon-y as you expect, in a good way. Not in that way that burns your tongue and makes you scrunch up your lips. You savour the first sip and make sure not to devour it in one gulp. You’ll nurse it for as long as you can. A little sweetener to get through the day. 

You’re surprised as Jensen returns. He's much quicker than you expect. You sit up as he proclaims, “tada!” and puts the mouse on your desk. The box is still shrink-wrapped and brand new. “Put it on the company account and all.” 

“Oh gosh, Jensen, thank you so much,” you grab it and look it over. “You’re a life saver.” 

“Hey, it’s no worries. How’s the coffee?" He hooks his thumbs in his khaki pockets and pushes his shoulders up. You peek up at him then back at the cup. 

“Pretty good,” you admit. “I don’t want to drink it too fast.” 

“Makes sense. Well, if you’re ever down at The Grind, I definitely recommend the salted caramel mocha. That’s my favourite. Oh, and on Thursdays, they have the smores brownies... I really didn’t have a sweet tooth before I started going there,” he reaches to rub the back of his neck. “Um, do you like sweet stuff? You like cookies? Cake?” 

He rambles, not giving you a moment to answer. It’s endearing. He runs his hand up behind his head then brings it around to fix his glasses. 

“Sorry, I’m... blabbering. I just... I’m glad you like it, you know?” 

“I do, thanks,” you chew your lower lip.  

“Critter, where the fuck--” Hansen’s voice blasts through the door as he rips it open. “Huh?” He scuffs out and scoffs as he tilts his head, jutting out a foot as he arches a brow, “well, hello there, JJ Jizzface,” he struts up to the corner of your desk, “and what on god’s shit brown heap are you doing here? I didn’t file a ticket.” 

Jensen stands straight as he faces Hansen. In an instant, his demeanour changes. His affability fades behind his staunch veneer. 

“I don’t need a ticket to be here,” Jensen rebuffs. 

“Oh, you don’t? So why the fuck are you bugging my assistant? I mean, pest that you are.” 

They stare at each other, unflinching. You pick at the lip of the cup nervously and watch. You clear your throat and hesitantly stand. 

“Mr. Hansen, sir, I got you a new mouse,” you slide the box towards him. 

“Good fucking job, critter,” he doesn’t look away from Jensen. “Go set it up.” 

“I can do that. It is my job--” Jensen offers.

“She can handle plugging in a damn dongle,” Hansen insists. “I’m sure you have no idea what to do with yours.” 

Jensen doesn’t say a word. You reach for the mouse cautiously. 

“So why don’t you piss off, tech jockey?” Hansen snarls. 

“With due respect,” Jensen says sharply. “I’m a manager too so I don’t need to take orders from you, Hansen.” 

“With due fucking respect, which is goddamn none,” your boss retorts, “you can suck my nuts.” 

He smirks and shakes his head. His eyes catch on your desk and he hums as he turns. He scoops up your latte and give it a sniff. He drinks and the foam dusts his short mustache. You just stare, trying not to deflate at his thievery. You didn’t get donuts in the break room and you forgot your thermos, and now, your latte has been accosted. 

“I’ll get this set up,” you take the mouse. “Thanks for the help, Jensen.” 

“Mission accomplished, four eyes, now shoo,” Hansen snips and slurps again. 

Jensen doesn’t leave right away but you don’t stay and watch. You only know he’s gone by the familiar squeak of his sneakers. You go into Mr. Hansen’s office and tear through the plastic. As you open the flap of the box, the door slams and signals his entrance. 

“So, why the fuck is that googly-eyed fuck hanging around your desk?” He growls. 

“Sir, he got your new mouse--” 

“Oh, and what did you do for that? You give him a smile? You show some cleavage? Is there anything under that sweater to show?” He spits. 

You focus on your task and slide the batteries into the mouse. You snap the cover on and put it on the desk. You take out the dongle and plug it into the port. Mr. Hansen looms closer and stands at the corner, glaring at you. 

“Sorry, sir, he was only being helpful--” 

“Fucking helpful. You seen that cuck? He’s hoping for a peek at your ass. Fucking geek.” He swigs the coffee and chokes, slamming down the empty cup. “Ugh, that was way too sugary, critter. Go get me an americano from Esther’s.” 

You shove the packaging into the box and grab it along with the empty cup. You nod and look at Mr. Hansen. His blue eyes are like ice. 

“Yes, sir, I’ll go right now.” 

“I fucking mean it, critter,” his voice shakes dangerously. “When I give you something to do, you do it.” 

“I understand, Mr. Hansen.” 

“Do you understand? Do you get what your job is? It’s me, critter. I tell you what the fuck to do and you scurry of to do it. Skitter, skitter, little critter.” He grips the desk as he leans in and his nostrils flare. “Now, I need to wash the taste of that garbage out of my mouth so go and get me some real fucking coffee.” 

You put your head down and leave. It’s your fault. You screwed up. You shouldn’t have transferred the call but you didn’t realise before you hit transfer that it was Melora. You should have screened her like you usually do but you’d been trying to figure out the new Adobe update. 

Stupid, you’re stupid. You should know to just do what you’re told and nothing extra.