#getting a little annoyed that every time my boss needs someone to be on call

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

.

[deus-ex-mona]

my five surviving braincells when something remotely good happens:

[certaimromance]

ꫂ ၴႅၴ Allegation Of Love.

Aaron Hotchner x Lawyer!reader

Summary: When you arrive at the police station to defend a client's innocence, you don't expect the man accusing her to be the same man you've been dating for months.

Words: 1,6k.

TW: mentions of crime and serial killers (normal warnings in the series). established relationship. aaron already divorced. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I just love Hotch and wanted to write something with him here. To me, he is definitely the kind of man who is so tired from work that he tries not to mention it on a date (of course, after all the trauma he has been through).

Also, I'm warning you that this is all very chaotic because I'm doing a lot of serious writing lately and I need pink love, comforting and even uncomfortable chaos to relax. So I've been re-watching the first season of the show (sorry, I'm just a girl and not a fan of the last few seasons🥲) and I want to salvage a little of the Hotch we were introduced to before so much misfortune befell him.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

It wasn't that you were annoying, particularly aggressive, or obsessed with being right, you just did your job to the best of your ability. Even if that meant being the villain of other people's stories and mentally going over every law to make sure it was obeyed.

The issue was that not everyone saw it the same way. In the workplace, where you managed, your exact memorization of the rules wasn't always appreciated if you were the one carrying the defense and doing everything to overthrow the other side's theories. For the same reason, you usually had to argue with cops, prosecutors, judges, and—on this occasion—even an FBI agent who wasn't happy with your presence.

You had in your hands an alleged confession of several murders delivered by your client under the coercion of the man who was interrogating her, without your presence there and with some pretty questionable methods to put her in an empty room without concrete evidence or an order from the judge. Unbelievably, it was a fairly common occurrence in your day-to-day work.

At least it was until the boss of the agent you were arguing with showed up and everything started to get complicated.

“What's going on here?”

The cross words and your intensity in emphasizing the injustice of the manipulation of the confession did not allow you to realize that there was someone else in the room. Much less that it was someone who looked exclusively at you until one of the police officers present cleared his throat.

“There has been a violation of the law.” You slowly turned to look behind you, and that's when you saw him.

Aaron stood stiffly, trying to look professional and serious, wearing a tie that matched your dress.

“There wasn't one, Hotch. We just got the confession.” Agent Morgan interjected into the silence provoked by the exchange of glances between you and his supervisor.

For the first time in the half hour you'd been there, you were completely silent. Even when two more agents showed up to try to defuse the situation, you didn't stop repeating the same arguments and insisting on your point. Now, however, you seemed to have lost the ability to speak.

There was a long pause before Aaron spoke carefully. “I'll take care of clarifying the situation.”

Trying to remain serious and stoic, he led you to one of the station's offices with the excuse that he wanted to talk about the case quietly so as not to attract the attention of his team. The strange thing was that he called you by name in front of everyone, without anyone having introduced you before. Maybe one of you two would have noticed if you had been a little less attentive to the other and more attentive to how the situation looked in the other's eyes.

“What are you doing here?” He asked as soon as he closed the door behind you, loosening the tension in his jaw a little, at least now it was just the two of you.

“Where's my 'Good to see you, sweetie. Please don't sue us' or anything like that?”

He raised an eyebrow at your comment, hoping you would take it seriously. Automatically and unconsciously, he had begun to move away from you and sat down on the other side of the desk, marking a distance between the two of you. Aaron had brought out his work side and you had hidden it at the mere sight of him.

“The woman your team pressured into confessing to a crime is my client.” You finally spoke in a serious tone, staring at him with some surprise. This wasn't the usual dynamic with him—you usually had a more relaxed side to him.

“Since when do you take cases like this?”

“Since it's been assigned to me.” You said, raising your shoulders. “One of the buffet partners is on vacation and left me to his clients, as I mentioned the other night.”

The other night when you were in his car, when he had his hand on your thigh as he drove home, when he smiled at you every chance he got to turn around and look at you. When the two of you weren't on completely different sidewalks and weren't supposed to act like strangers.

“This is pretty weird.” You said after watching him for a few seconds and noticing that he seemed lost in his memories. “I hope the agent I was arguing with isn't your friend. That would be awkward.”

Aaron looked at you, trying to figure out what could have happened before he showed up. He already knew you were a good lawyer, very capable and, above all, a good striker. It was too weird for him to think that you had been using your skills against his own team, against the friends he once wanted to introduce you to and that you had now met for the first time in the most unimaginable way.

“What?” You asked.

“Nothing.”

“You look at me like I'm a ghost.”

His brow furrowed again.

He didn't want to say out loud that everything related to his work had ended badly and was completely destroyed, just like his ex-marriage and any attempt to fix it. He had always felt comfortable with you because your work was just as demanding but less dangerous than his. You usually handled family cases, divorces, estates, and coordinating child care. You were away from the blood, the killers, and all the atrocities he lived with.

“I'm worried about you being in the middle of this. It can be dangerous.” He showed his concern for you and had to hold back from holding your hand.

“You should worry more about the lawsuit.” You pointed out in a tone somewhere between teasing and serious. You didn't like him worrying too much. “I'm very good.”

“This is serious.” He finally let his guard down and placed his hand on your knee from under the table, giving it a gentle touch.

That was the man you know and love.

“Me too, it's my job.”

“And you're making my job harder.” He pointed out with a small smile in response to yours.

What were the chances of your love life and work life crossing paths like this? You thought they were pretty slim, which is why you steered clear of talking about work when you were together.

You were just about to answer when you heard a tap on the door and one of the agents who had been watching you during your discussion came over to give Aaron some information about the profile. You couldn't understand him very well because he seemed to be speaking in code because of your presence.

“I'll be there in a moment, Rossi. Get the team together and we'll talk.” Hotchner finished earnestly. You could still feel the warmth of his touch on your knee. “I'm just finishing up here.”

As soon as he left the office, you looked at Aaron with surprise.

“Is he who you always mention?” You asked, and he nodded. “I thought it was 'Rosie,' not 'Rossi,' and that he was a woman.”

“Now I understand why you grimace when I mention his name.” He replied with some amusement. “You were jealous.”

Yes, especially when you found out that they'd shared a room once.

“Don't mock me, I'm about to sue you.” You advertiste in a fake threatening tone, pointing a finger at him. “And I don't care how handsome you look right now, I'll do my job.”

“Me too.” He replied, trying to ignore your compliment to keep a serious expression on his face. “And you look pretty too, I like that dress.”

The love between you seemed to be bubbling anyway, and it was impossible to hide it when you had breakfast together just a few hours ago. You went from making him coffee to offering him a lawsuit if he didn't agree with you.

“I know, I'll use this dress while I debunk your profile theory.” You got up from your seat suddenly after taking your phone out of your bag. It was then that you looked him in the eye. “Are you going to release my client now or should I call the judge?”

“You're not going to take a suspect in five murders. I'm not going to let her off the hook.” He copied your action.

“Give me the evidence then, love.”

Oh, to call him that at that point was a cheap shot, especially when you were the one who won because he had no concrete evidence, only theories and his complex profile.

“But stay away from her anyway, she can be dangerous. My agents will keep an eye on her.” He snorted after a few seconds, trying to find an argument, but failing.

At that moment, you gave him a little smile, proud of yourself and what you had accomplished. “See you at dinner?”

“Sure.” He replied without being able to help but give you a small smile in return. “But I'll pick the place.”

“Well, that's an argument I'll let you win.” You put your phone back in your bag and took a couple of steps towards the door, stopping when you saw him coming after you. “Can I kiss my opponent?”

“This is pretty unprofessional.” He said, putting a hand on your waist and leaning you against the door. Without hesitation, he kissed you firmly on the lips.

After a few minutes, the two of you walked out of the office as if nothing had happened, and the professional scene continued. Your heels clicked towards the exit with your client at your side, while Aaron met with his team, trying to find new ways to solve the case and refine the profile. The only problem was that he happened to be working with people who were very detail-oriented.

And, gosh, it was impossible not to notice the traces of your lipstick on his lips.

[phant0mth1ef]

girl dad bakugou hcs / can be read as a standalone or as part 5 to bakugou x support course reader

- whenever they wanted to play dress up, the man would argue with two five year olds happily oblige and put on a custom made princess dress that you had bought him.

- his kids were big deku fans growing up and everytime he was forced to buy merchandise he would secretly grind his teeth and grip the shopping cart handle just a little harder.

- he ended up having to take them to meet deku and he was ticked off the whole time, but still took and framed the photo of his two little girls that were as happy as they could be.

- his daughters were daddy’s girls through and through.

- his fans would definitely make thrist trap posts about him as a dilf, and you’d read them to him as he made dinner, almost falling off the kitchen counter while trying to catch your breath when someone said “till? WE’RE NOT STOPPING ❌”

- his fans would also post about how the biggest and baddest man is getting bossed around by you on a daily, making him seem small and meek.

- although he tries his hardest to keep his little family out of the spotlight, they do sometimes end up making the front page & his daughters are always dressed to the 9’s and posing in full force for the cameras.

- it was as if each kid was a carbon copy of him, inheriting his hair and red eyes, one even going so far as to get a similar quirk, and your other daughter wanted to be just like her mother, pursuing a career in the support course.

- one of his daughters actually wanted to go to shiketsu but he wouldn’t allow it.

“anything that isn’t ua is just less than! all the second rate heroes came from shiketsu and i will not allow my daughter to become second rate like that damn wind dude!” he was sitting on the couch while your daughter was trying to discuss shiketsu’s entrance exam with you.

- his daughters called him mister boom boom from the age of 4 to about… wait they never stopped calling him that!

- he wanted to name one of your kids dyna and the other might.

- you settled and let him have dyna but got to name your other kid who you named akari after your favorite assistant at mirko’s agency.

- his daughters worshipped him growing up but begun to make fun of him as they got older due to his funny lack of temper and the way he never talked back to you. ever.

- he made sure his daughters knew to never settle for less.

- imagine how annoyed he was when dyna came home talking about this boy she had met at ua, an electric type.

“hah?” “you are not dating dunce face’s offspring! break it off now! the dude’s second rate and i’m sure that kid of his is too! not good enough. no way.”

- glared at kaminari’s son the whole time when she brought him and his family over to meet you.

- akari was just like you, and maybe that’s why your husband chose not to anger her as much as he did dyna, but he always made sure to show up to her support events, and to always be her number one fan at each and every one of them bevause he remembered something you’d said back in highschool.

“support is a great career path, i just wish people would acknowledge it more because we don’t get nearly enough attention for as much as we do.”

- would instantly try to intimidate every boy your daughters ever brought him, kinda like phil dunphy in that one modern family scene where it’s like:

“that’s my little girl! i need her to know no guy on earth is good enough for her.”

- ultimately the man just loves his daughters and is so happy that he has them despite the fact that sometimes he doesn’t seem like it.

[a-mint-bear]

Her Favorite Employee

Female Yandere x Female Reader

You're the personal assistant of your company's CEO. She's controlling, married to her job, and runs you ragged. But you're good at your job, and she loves to let you know how much she appreciates you.

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"What's on my schedule for this afternoon?"

A quick recap of what was on the docket for that day as you dropped off her coffee order. Soon she’d be in back to back meetings while you handled her calls and made the rounds to the various teams she oversaw. Same as most mornings.

“Wonderful. Make sure to have the Hillmore reports on my desk by three, and send a nice gift basket to Reynolds in Sales. His wife just had twins.”

You told her the reports would be done before her lunch with R&D, and you’d already sent a basket with her name on it two days ago which included a gift certificate to a local spa for the new mother.

“I knew you’d be on it.” She smiled into her coffee. “Much obliged, love.”

You nodded behind your tablet, trying not to be obvious about your lack of eye contact. It was torture when she called you that.

It was a lot, working under her. But at the same time, it was oddly… fulfilling. She gave you so many responsibilities and trusted, more expected, you to come through. Every time.

Not even six months ago you'd been just another employee. It was a decent job; Good pay and benefits, and the work was easy enough, the hours sucked sometimes but it wasn't like you had a rich social life it was cutting into.

You didn’t make any friends in the office, you weren’t sure any of your coworkers even knew your name. To them, you were just “that one girl who refills the paper in the copier”. Because someone has to, and you work with a bunch of animals who think that the paper just magically replenishes itself. Now you were “The Boss’ secretary”, that was at least more respectable? Maybe?

But before you were her assistant, you were just her “favorite employee”. And that was more trouble than it was worth.

She didn’t care much for being called by her surname like most of the superiors in the company, but no one was brave enough to call her by her given name. So most in the company just called her Boss or Miss. And she liked it that way. You were pretty sure she just liked how intimidating it made her seem.

She was always around. At first, you thought it might've been because she was your boss. She was probably just trying to see if you were any good at your job, maybe looking for a reason to fire you if she noticed anything off. But ever since you were hired, it just kept happening. Your first days in the office quickly turned into weeks and she was still circling you for seemingly no reason.

You could excuse it to yourself, maybe she was the micromanaging type. But her attention always seemed to be on you, almost exclusively, more than anyone else in the office. And it was… intimidating. For a couple of reasons.

She seemed to love… picking on you, if you could call it that. Any extra projects she needed done? You were her first choice. Fixing the new guy's botched paperwork before a big deadline? You were on it, of course. Overtime? Yup, you. It would be more annoying if you weren't getting paid overtime. But you always got it all done, ahead of schedule, without any complaints.

And if she wasn't being oddly petty, she was being… oddly flirty.

Sitting on the edge of her desk when she talked quarterly reports over with you. Leaning a little too close when she took something off your desk. Her fingers brushed yours when you handed her things. A bump to your arm with hers here, a touch to your shoulder there… Every time you wondered if you were just imagining things, it happened again. She never did anything overtly inappropriate or pushed past any sign you were uncomfortable, but the truth was… you weren’t. It was a bit much to have this beautiful woman pay so much attention to you, but you weren’t going to lie, it wasn’t… the worst thing in the world.

It contrasted hard with her usual put-together image, prim and proper and out of reach from the mere mortals in the office. But as far as you’d noticed, she didn’t act this way in front of anyone else in the office. And you didn’t know what to do with that information.

You weren’t sure if any of it was on purpose, or if she was just flirtatious by nature. It was always hard to tell with women, as a woman. Was she into you? Was she even attracted to women?? Or did she get her jollies by flustering the office loner?

She stayed just as late as you most nights, if not longer. And checked up on you. And chatted with you when she had a minute. You just didn't get why. You weren't anyone special. And she was so…

She was gorgeous, always so well put-together and stunning. You'd never met a woman who was so beautiful it made you nervous, like a dumb teenager. But it couldn't outweigh how much she got on your nerves with how she was always in your business, so the conflicting emotions just made for long, exhausting workdays.

If she knew you were annoyed with her, she never let it show. But it wasn't long before you realized just why she'd been watching you so closely.

One day, all the creeping around and odd attention she was paying you started to make sense. The Boss Lady called you into a meeting with herself and the head of H.R. and just…

Offered you a promotion. Just like that.

"I've been really impressed by your work ethic.” She was being so poised and professional, every word out of her mouth sounded so assured, even though you were very much a deer in the headlights at the moment. “I need someone with a work/life balance that matches my own and can work with my schedule to be my personal Executive Assistant. Your hours would increase, but there will be a significant pay raise and company benefits.”

And boy, what a significant pay raise it was. You'd have to be a complete idiot to turn it down. It meant more responsibilities in the company and you'd be expected to dress up a bit more for appearance's sake, but a few suit jackets and skirts with nice dress shoes would be more in your price range now. It would mean spending A LOT more time with her though, and you weren't sure if your weak heart could take the damn near constant presence of this woman.

But maybe, SOMEHOW, it really was all in your head. Maybe the proximity to her while she was vetting you for the position just had you all mixed up?

Maybe the money was making you too eager to accept, but accept you did.

And it was normal, or as normal as things could be around that place, at least for a little while.

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You were scheduling some meetings for her and logging them in her calendar when another co-worker knocked on your office door.

“Oh hey, do you have a minute?”

You recognized them… You didn’t remember their full name but everyone called them Jay.

They started a few months after you did, and they seemed nice enough. Right now they looked a little out of sorts, which was unusual. They were usually the cool, flirty, sporty type who was good friends with everyone, not an awkward bone in their body. The two of you weren’t friends or anything, but there was no bad blood between the two of you.

You asked them what was up, and it took them a minute before finally spitting it out.

“Okay, so… totally tell me to screw off if I’m barkin’ up the wrong tree here.” It was kind of funny seeing them so nervous. “Would you wanna… go to dinner tomorrow?”

Without thinking, you pulled up your planner, asking if there’d been an email you’d missed about some team-building thing. But they just laughed.

“No, I meant… Just you and me.”

You froze, wondering if you had heard right. You cut to the chase, asking if they meant like a date?

“We don’t have to call it a date, if you don’t want to!” They held up their hands defensively, like you were someone they were worried about offending with this. You wondered how people saw you around here for them to be so nervous. Or maybe they just… really liked you that much. “But… yeah. I wanted to ask you out.”

You gave it a moment to sink in.

You weren’t automatically thinking of saying no. Did that mean you wanted to say yes? They were tall and attractive, in a “soft beanpole with a cute haircut” kind of way. They looked good in their usual button up with the rolled-up sleeves, and pulled the look off better than half the people around the office. The opposite of your very feminine boss. Looks-wise they were nothing alike, but both had the same confident, assertive air about them. Maybe that was appealing to you, and Jay was just as much your type as the Boss was.

You scolded yourself. Why were you thinking about her? Now?

At the end of the day, you didn’t see any reason to say no. It could be a nice time. This stupid not-a-crush you had on your boss was never going to go anywhere, so why not try and see someone who went out of their way to ask you out? If it didn’t work out, you would handle it like an adult.

Jay looked nervous that you’d been thinking for so long. You told them you had a pretty packed schedule, but if you could get a night off, it would be nice to have dinner with them tomorrow. You half-jokingly told them that if it went well, you’d slap the “date” label on it. Their cheeks went a bit red, but they were grinning ear to ear.

“Cool!” They laughed, a bit too loud before catching themself, playing it cool. “I mean uh… That sounds good. Let me know.”

They quickly left, muttering to themself to “keep it together”, probably thinking you couldn’t hear. It was kind of cute, in a weird way. Maybe they were shyer than you’d originally thought.

But now came the hard part. Getting a night off.

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“No, that won't do.” She didn’t even look up from her computer.

That’s all she had to say to your request. At first, you felt disappointed but you were ready to just turn around and leave, accepting it. But this was just... bothering you. You piped up, trying to reason with her. Her schedule was free tomorrow night and you were a week ahead on all the reports she’d put you in charge of. You hadn’t had a night off in a few weeks.

And you’d never complained. You’d even kind of liked the challenge, the effort you put into your work gave you purpose. Working as her personal assistant was the most rewarding job you’d ever had. And you even told her so.

So why?

She sighed, she seemed almost… annoyed?

“I heard some chatter in the hall this afternoon.” She just kept typing away. “Someone was asking about restaurant recommendations for a big date. They seemed excited about having finally asked out the CEO’s assistant. And that they were so surprised she’d said yes.”

So she knew? She knew you were asking for a night off for a date? What did that have to do with anything? But you kept quiet for the moment, wondering where she was going with this.

“Maybe it’s my fault.” she sighed, sitting back in her plush office chair. “I was too…generous. I wanted to make you feel comfortable working for me so I let you do what you wanted. I can admit to my mistakes.”

Generous? By working you like a dog day in and day out? By keeping you from doing something as simple as going on a date with someone who was interested in you?

You asked her why. Why was she so against you having a life? Why was she doing this?

You knew it was a bad-no, a super bad idea to be mouthing off to your boss. Possibly career-ending. But you’d done so much for her, every day for months on end and never letting her down no matter how difficult or grueling the task. And she couldn’t even give you this one night off?

You needed a reason.

“Oh, it’s quite simple.” She smiled her usual stunning smile. But you weren’t going to let it get to you this time. No ma’am. But as she got up from her desk, coming around to stand too damn close, you felt your resolve slipping.

“From the day you started working here, I knew I wanted to keep you by my side.”

As an employee, right?

. . .

Right??

“You were… quite the sight.” she sighed, a dreamy smile as she looked at you from beneath her long, dark lashes. “So put off by everyone. Always on your own. Uninterested. Unengaged. Unmotivated. At first I just wanted to frazzle you, make you lighten up a bit. You seemed so isolated, I figured a strong personality like mine would rub you the wrong way. But you had such an… interesting reaction.”

The both of you knew what she meant. The blushing, the nervous energy, all the times you tried so hard to act like you weren’t bothered by her attention. And most likely failed miserably.

“I saw how hard you worked. I could see your untapped potential. You were exactly what I needed. I knew I had to make you mine.”

You told her you didn’t understand. And maybe that was a lie. You couldn’t stop your thoughts from racing. She… wasn’t talking about work anymore, was she?

“I made you my assistant. You’re by my side, day in and day out. And… I thought that would be enough to satisfy this feeling. This... need. But it just wasn’t. And when I heard someone had taken an interest in you, I found myself quite…”

The intensity in her eyes felt so suffocating.

”Infuriated.”

You couldn't help but flinch when she laid her hands flat on your chest, just below your collar bone. Her touch burned itself into you, but you couldn’t take your eyes off hers. It felt like she’d devour you if you did.

“No one…” She grabbed you by your collar and yanked you closer, whispering in your ear. You hated the shiver it sent up your spine. “No one will ever take you away from me. Not another company. Not another department. And certainly not some little upstart from Sales.”

… She wasn’t talking about work anymore.

“If someone else took you from me... there would be no point in any of this. This job. It was so… stuffy and boring before you came along. Every day was just office politics and saying the right things to the right people.” She loosened her grip, straightening the collar on your suit jacket with an airy, light touch. “But you… You changed something. So I brought you to my side. And I’ve been watching, getting to know all about you. You play down your talents so you don’t draw any attention. But you can’t help yourself. What you want more than anything is for someone to say they appreciate you, that they need you.”

She had to know how this sounded, right? She almost sounded like…

“And I do.” She held your face in her hand, her thumb grazing your cheek so gently you could’ve convinced yourself her touch wasn’t real. “I need you, love. Without you, none of this means anything.”

Your breathing was shaky, you never imagined that this would- could ever happen in a million years.

She drew you closer, a soft gasp slipping out when you realized just how close. If anyone else popped in, it would be completely obvious what was going on. But you didn’t push her away. If anything, you wished she would just close the gap and take it out of your hands.

“So what do you say?” She whispered in your ear, the warmth of her breath making you feel weak. “Are you mine?”

As if you could say anything else.

Yes, Miss.

It was so soft a response that you weren’t sure you’d said it out loud until you saw her smile. A finger to your lips, she laughed. Not her usual teasing, mischievous laugh when she was trying to get a reaction out of you. It was sweet, delighted and charming.

She was so close, her breath on your lips, her lashes just barely brushed your cheek.

“And I'm yours, love.”

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this one has been a long time coming, writing femme yanderes is difficult lol

this y/n ended up being a lady, and it didn't come into play much. but the hypercompetent assistant girl in love with her powerful boss lady is a wlw pairing near and dear to my heart.

Boss Lady's tentative full name is Lenora. she doesn't care for it, she goes by Nora. i originally gave her a last name to be called by in the story to make her seem more imposing, but it came off as awkward, like she has a name, but i didn't want her to be known by an unimportant surname

Jay started off as a lady, but i wrote her as more androgynous and it felt right to make them nb instead. it helped keep the reader's sexuality more ambiguous. i wanted to write them as wlw, but not strictly a lesbian. but she reads very much as a "useless lesbian" trope lol. Boss lady had to flirt with her for literal months on end before y/n caught on

i don't quite know how old Boss Lady is, i imagine her as late 30s, very early 40s, and there could be an age difference here, but it's not a necessary part of the story.

this Boss Lady COULD be the same Boss Lady as the one in Boss Lady has a House Spouse, sometime in the future of their relationship. maybe y/n gets burned out or quits for some reason and then becomes a domestic partner. But Boss Lady who obsesses over her employee was imagined as a separate Boss Lady originally. you can never have too many boss ladies.

and that header. i've said it before that editing the femme yandere headers is so awkward because the office lady ones just turn into their chests in tight button-downs lol

*whispers* would you guys find it weird if she called the reader "good girl"? 'cause i almost included it at the end there but thought it might be a bit much. i have a problem✌️

[aureatchi]

˚୨୧ ｡ ˚ IT WAS A NIGHT TO REMEMBER . — osamu dazai

⟢ SYNOPSIS. after a long week of work, you and your best friend retreat to a bar to distract yourself from your responsibilities. however, you find it unfulfilling and decide you need to just go home. as you head out the door, you bump into someone more than familiar.

a/n. it’s the way i immediately thought of him when i first heard this song. <3

info. fem!reader. exes to lovers!au. we have the full recipe…fluff; light angst; gets really sugg. mentions of drinking; scars. your best friend hates dazai. hc dazai doesn’t bandage his tummy. (ᗒᗜᗕ) ﾉ wc. 3.6k

“It’s just a lot.”

You just finished the final shift of your job for the week, and you were more than exhausted and burnt out. You had called your best friend immediately after to get some comfort, and despite how busy she was, she agreed to meet you for some drinks and listen to you rant.

“My coworker’s getting on my last nerve,” you continued venting. You had already told her about select crappy people you had to interact with during the day and then your boss, who regarded you with no empathy whatsoever. “Today’s already been bad enough, and then she decides to just pile more stress on me.”

You swished the ice around your emptied glass, creating clanking sounds while coating the cup in water.

“Maybe you should just quit,” your friend replied, taking a sip out of her glass. “I would’ve been long gone if I had to deal with annoying people all around, nine to five.”

She looked up at you. “Besides, you’re well off anyway. I don’t see why you’re working. Are you…trying to distract yourself?”

You sighed. She knew you too well.

“Love, don’t tell me you’re still hung up over—“

“It’s not what you think,” you cut her off, yet you avoided eye contact. It was easier to lie that way. “I just feel I’d have too much free time on my hands. I’m not sure what I’d do with it.”

You let out a dry chuckle. That wasn’t wholly false in itself, either. At your age, everyone had their own things going on—your best friend being an example. Therefore, you couldn’t find much time to go out with any of your friends, and you weren’t interested in meeting new people either.

You could blame your job. Perhaps the ones you meet every day put a sour taste on your tongue, making you lose any desire to interact with strangers. You could blame your exhaustion. Or…

“Honestly, I think that calls for someone new in your life,” your friend replied. “That’ll surely cure your boredom.”

“No thanks. I don’t feel like dating anyone right now.”

“I’m just kidding,” she laughed. “But it’d help you feel less lonely, no?”

“…you didn’t believe my answer to your earlier question, huh?”

“No. Of course not.”

It had been over five months since you broke up with your boyfriend. You tried seeing people after that, but in truth, you were only using them to try to move on.

Once you realized that it wasn’t working and it wasn’t fair for others to play with feelings, you decided to take on a new job on the other side of the city so you’d still get out of your house and have a change of scene.

“…But you know what? Screw him. I will keep saying again and again, I hate that man. Suicidal maniac. I know it’s hard, but you’re too hot to keep dwelling on this. You need to learn to move o—”

Your friend’s phone suddenly buzzed, interrupting her little lecture.

She picked it up, and you waited for her to finish speaking.

“I’m sorry, I think I got to go. I left my boyfriend with my cat, and he just told me he lost her already…” she shook her head. “Have you gotten out everything you wanted to say?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you replied. “I think I’ll go home soon, too. Not really feeling it.”

She stood up, handing you a bill with a smile. “Drinks on me tonight. Don’t complain—I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer. And we didn’t order much anyway.”

“That’s okay; I appreciate you coming to listen to me anyway,” you replied.

“The offer is still open, by the way! If you want to find someone, I’ll schedule a date by this weekend.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. Thanks.”

…

You only had one more drink before you decided to leave, still mostly sober—you figured it’d just be best if you’d take care of yourself at home.

Another thing your job was also distracting you from was witnessing all the relationships around you. Your friend had to go home for her boyfriend. You noticed a few couples at the bar you were at. You’d probably see more when you walked outside.

Not that you minded, is what you tried to tell yourself every single time. You didn’t have to be with someone. It’s okay to have a break.

But was it okay to still have a particular person at the back of your head all the time?

You stood up, leaving the bill and tip for your bartender before you walked toward the door. Opening it caused the bell attached to it to jingle. You were greeted by a cool, night breeze—and someone’s torso.

“O-Oh, sorry,” you replied, too tired to even catch the face of the person you bumped into.

But you had no choice when the man didn’t move out of the doorframe to walk in or allow you to pass.

So, when you met the almost-surprised, caramel-kissed eyes on a face framed with dark brown bangs and wavy hair, you felt your heart plunge into your stomach.

You whispered his name—almost scared to say it, the syllables feeling foreign from not having spoken it aloud for months.

“…Osamu.”

He was halfway through saying your name when you dashed for the exit, shoving him aside and speed-walking out.

“Wait! Bel—“ he caught himself and shouted your name once more.

You started walking down the parking lot, unsure of where you were trying to go, except away—away from Dazai. You had forgotten this bar was in the heart of the city. You didn’t know Dazai came to this one, but you knew his work was somewhere close.

“Hey!” you felt a breeze behind your back, and then a hand gently land on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks.

“What…why are you following me?”

You turned around, getting your second full view of your ex for the night.

His hair was a bit longer. He still had those bandages on his neck—did he bother to change them out recently? His scent was as still as you remembered—grassy and toasty, a resemblance to green tea.

“I’m not sure why I’d leave a girl I know to walk alone at night,” he shrugged. “It’s dangerous!”

You continued walking, not responding to his reply.

“Where are we going?”

“Who’s we?”

“Aw, that was really rude.”

You ignored Dazai, making sure your stroll stayed a few feet in front of him.

You then entered a park, him trailing behind you.

“Why were you at the bar alone?”

“That’s none of your business.” You walked down the path, trees casting dark shadows onto the grass under the moon’s light.

“…And I wasn’t alone the entire time. I was with a friend, but she left to attend something.”

Dazai nodded, trying to catch up to your face. You immediately gave him more than enough space when he reached you, not wanting any invasion of your personal space.

“But you usually don’t drink unless you’re either celebrating or stressed,” he said. “And from what I’ve seen, it looks like the latter.”

You stopped again. “Again, it’s none of your business. Maybe you should focus on yours. You go and drink tons when you’re stressed, too.”

“Hey, I’ve actually gotten better at that…”

“You still ended up at a bar midweek.”

“But I didn’t even go in, no? I’m with you at a park right now.”

You were silent once again. But now you couldn’t complain that he was following you.

Why do I care if he drinks or not?

No. It’s normal. You’d care for the well-being of anyone you know.

You approached a set of swings in the center of the park. It had been ages since you’d been on one, swinging back and forth in carefree.

“Want me to push you?” you heard Dazai over your shoulder when you examined the equipment.

“Heck no,” you responded.

“Why not? It’d be fun!” He moved closer.

“No! I’m not sure if it’d even carry me,” you laughed. “It’s for kids.”

“You can try it. Just sit. And I’ll catch you if it breaks—“

“Shut up. I can catch myself.” You lowered yourself onto the seat, seeing that the metal poles did hold. You swung yourself a bit to test if it’d keep up your weight.

“It works.”

“Great! Can I push you now?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t trust you.”

“I won’t kill you, bel—I won’t! I promise.” Dazai childishly held out a pinkie toward you.

You sighed. “Fine. Just please don’t push me too high.” You clasped your pinkie around his.

“I got you!” You felt palms on your back, and then a light push that moved you forward, and then gravity pulled you back toward him.

Everything pulls me back to him—my mind and the universe both.

You were suddenly pushed higher, catching you off guard. You felt yourself fly multiple feet off of the ground, and you clutched the metal in panic.

“H-Help—Osamu!”

“You’re fine. You won’t fall,” Dazai chuckled. He pushed you again, sending you even higher than the previous time. You wanted to scream, but it came out more as a laugh.

“Is the thrill fun?” he asked while you were in the air, noticing your smile.

“Yeah, it is—HEY!”

Dazai had pushed you hard, sending you swinging all around the equipment, in a complete three-sixty.

“Osamu!” you cried, the momentum spinning you around once more. You couldn’t stop it—it was too fast.

You were clutched from behind, arms tightly wrapped around your torso to stop the swing. You could hear the sound of Dazai being dragged through the rocks below, but he was able to ground the both of you before you went flying again.

And you felt warm. Despite the evening’s cool air, you felt like you were encompassed in a fireplace’s heat on a winter day.

“Got you.”

You let out a giant exhale of relief. And then, you turned around in anger.

“I told you not to push me that high!”

“But I didn’t kill you, did I? You stayed on the swing the entire time! You were safe! Plus, I think you enjoyed it.”

You stood up, causing Dazai to let go of his arms. “I’m dizzy now.”

“Do you need water? We can buy some. And did you drive here?”

“No, I took a taxi.”

“Let me drive you home then,” he said.

“I think I’m fin—“

“Please,” he cut you off almost urgently, but then he caught his tone and reverted.

“I mean, many kidnappers disguise themselves as taxi drivers. Especially at night.”

“You’re still so cynical,” you replied. “Stop being so protective. It’s not like we’re…nevermind, sorry.”

You didn’t dare look at Dazai’s expression.

…

You each got a yogurt drink, and it helped soothe your dizziness immediately.

You walked by Dazai silently, but compared to earlier in the night, you were no longer repulsed to standing by him.

He opened his car door for you before getting in his seat on the other side.

“What have you been up to these past months?”

You asked as he found his keys, turning them into gear.

“A case. It’s something huge going on.”

Dazai’s work accounted for part of your breaking up with him. He was too secretive—despite you knew that he trusted you so much that he explained to you exactly what his job consisted of, and he only left details out to protect you from getting involved, you couldn’t handle it.

Maybe you were selfish for that. But you needed to know what your boyfriend was up to—if he was safe. Perhaps that was another reason why. You would never let him go if you knew of the exact danger he was volunteering himself in.

“I see. Sleeping okay?”

“If I do, sure.” He was suddenly reaching over your body, grabbing your seatbelt.

Your heartbeat fastened as Dazai hovered over you, pausing to look at anticipating eyes and a risky glance at slightly parted lips.

He sighed before fastening the buckle and moving away, acting like nothing happened.

…

You two drove in silence, you gazing out of the car window to admire how the city looked in the absence of the sun.

A song was suddenly put on. You looked at Dazai.

“Do you still like this song?”

“Yeah,” you replied. He had put on your favorite song, indeed.

You silently thanked him for it. The awkward tension to speak to one another had vanished; you could indulge yourself in music.

Until it ended, of course, but by then, you could see you were almost home.

“Osamu.”

“Yes?”

“This was a really bad idea. I hope I never see you again after this.”

“Probably, but maybe I wanted it to happen. Maybe I thought about you so much that I had to seize this opportunity.”

“What?”

“What if I hope to see you again after this?”

“You can go flirt with any other girl for entertainment.” He did a lot of that, too. Even if it was Dazai’s most efficient tactic for getting information, he had also said he simply couldn’t help it sometimes.

“I don’t find that interesting anymore.”

You looked at his distant, faint reflection through your window.

“…you think about me?”

You were answered with a nod.

Dazai turned, pulling you into your driveway.

“I’ll continue to even more after tonight,” he said. “Whether we see each other again or not. It plagues my mind every day. What I could’ve done better—how much you deserve that I failed to reach.”

He parked. “Of course, I’ve tried to move on. It’s the most fair thing to do for you. But if someone were to ask me, bella, saying that I don’t still love you would be a lie.”

“You’re selfish,” you commented.

“I know. I’m very.”

You opened the door, stepping out of the car.

“Thank you for driving me,” you said.

You walked towards your front door and then looked back at Dazai, who was standing by his side of the car.

You contemplated for a second.

“D-do you have something to do for the rest of the night?” you carefully asked.

“No.”

“Can you stay? Just for a bit. We can talk about things. And hopefully, you get some answers that will help you stop occupying your mind of me.”

You said that as if you were trying to convince yourself, rather Dazai.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” You pushed open the door.

Dazai followed you as you walked through the house—through the hallway and to the kitchen.

“Do you want something to eat? Or drink?”

“I’m okay, thanks,” he replied.

“Alright. Uh…feel free to make yourself at home. I’m going to change, I’ll be right back.”

…

You walked into your room, first washing your face in the bathroom. You stared at your face through the window, noticing how pigmented your cheeks were.

Why did I do this?

You were in the middle of changing your pajamas when Dazai knocked on your door.

“Can I come in?”

“Uh—“ you hastily buttoned two thirds of your shirt before, “Yeah.”

A smell of your favorite scent immediately flowed into the room as Dazai came in. It was of the candles you had around your house.

“You lit my candles?”

“Yeah. I got curious because the flavors looked nice. I like them. The scent matches you perfectly.”

“Oh…thanks,” you mumbled. You didn’t know how else to respond.

Dazai glanced around your room. Some things changed—you had moved some things around, redone the decor on your nightstands, changed your bed sheets…what he didn’t know was that you actually donated them after the break-up so you would never see them again.

“Did you need something?”

“Yeah. Do you still happen to have bandages?”

“Yes.” You had Dazai sit on the bed while you searched your closet for the box of bandages you would keep for whenever he came over. Unlike your sheets, you had kept them for your emergency first aid.

Or in case he happened to be in an emergency.

“What do you think you could’ve done better?”

There was a silence right after. You had hit Dazai with a hard question first.

“I’d stop disappearing so much without warning. I only realized how much I took that for granted when we stopped seeing each other. I would try to communicate better…” He looked down. “I’m terrible at it, I know, but I would try harder.”

“Why me? You could move on and find some other girl to treat right the first time.” You found the box, pulling it out.

“Because I would feel like a loser,” he added your name to the end of the sentence. “I was a total jerk to someone who loved me, and then I decide to switch it up for someone new and pretend to start on a clean slate? No, bella—I’m cursed with not forgetting and forgiving myself of the past. It feels cowardly.”

“Osamu, stop. You hurt me, yes, but you weren’t the only one in the wrong.

“I-I’m sorry.” You hadn’t apologized to him yet, through months.

You noticed his eyes almost widen, surprised.

“And I also forgive you. It took awhile, but I’m forgiving you of the mistakes that hurt me,” you continued. “And I’m apologizing to you too. So please forgive yourself. You don’t need to feel guilt.

“It’s only fair to you as well to move on.”

“Why, bella? How is it fair? How is it fair when the only person I want to see is you?”

“Osamu.”

You were right in front of him, the closest you’d been to him that night, discarding how he had tightly hugged you on the swing earlier. You were drowned in emotion that surrounded his desperate pleas.

“Can you please bandage me?”

“Why?”

“I miss your touches.”

You regret asking. He had no shame in expressing his thoughts, no matter what you two were going through. You regret asking, yet…

“Your coat.”

You climbed behind and rid Dazai of the top portion of his clothes—his vest and dress shirt. Then, you started unwinding the bandages on his arms, chest, and neck.

Gently, your fingers grazed the scars that hid underneath his attire, and his mind. Months ago, you had learned what every single mark came from after knowing where each one was—it was one detail Dazai fully opened to you about.

You were thankful you couldn’t see scars of the heart.

He would have thrice as many. Perhaps one of them would include you.

You rewrapped Dazai, leaving only his stomach unbandaged. You moved to do his neck when he paused you with his eyes, mere inches away from his face.

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

You wish he weren’t so pretty. You would’ve been able to rationalize yourself quickly—you would’ve been able to give him a final answer without hesitating. But he ended up being the face of your dreams and the depth of your heart.

“I tell myself it’s fair,” you whispered. His nose was almost touching yours. “I tell myself it’s better that we’re done. But my heart isn’t so sure. It asks the same—how is it fair? To keep myself longing?”

Your arms were around Dazai’s neck with the bandage, yet you did not move to finish.

His gaze moved to your lips. A hand moved to your hair.

“Is it fair? If it truly is, push me away, bella.”

He didn’t force himself any closer, leaving you with the choice despite his yearning appearance. You could feel the warmth of his body on yours and the soft air of his breaths on your cheeks.

“Yes. It’s fair, Osamu.” You came to your conclusion.

Yet, you dropped the bandages, cupped his face towards you, and pressed your lips on his.

“But I’m selfish too.”

You moved your hands to waft through brunette locks as Dazai pulled you onto his lap. He held you tightly—desperate at the acceptance of your invitation.

Closer, along with the fresh scent of green tea, there was a note of sweetness as intoxicating as chocolate. You came to know this pleasant surprise every time you were pressed up against him, tucked well into his embrace.

A hand moved down your waist, tracing your curves. Meanwhile, his kisses became sloppier, changing course to your jaw.

“Bella,” he whispered.

“Osamu?”

“Too much? Just let me know.”

“Don’t stop.”

He planted his lips on your neck, leaving a mark when he moved to the next area.

“I don’t want to lose you again. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” you replied, pulling him down over you.

“Everything about you,” Dazai continued. “It’s enchanting. How you smile when you’re flustered—like right now, and how you react when I touch you here…”

His hand found its way under your shirt, and you started laughing. He knew how and where to draw every specific reaction out of you, including where you were most ticklish.

“Osamu! Stop, hah-!”

You let him stay hovered over you and left his curious hands to wander your skin. Dazai looked free of emotional distress for once—being able to calm just by admiring you. It was like medicine.

“Do you still keep a spare pajama set?” he asked.

“Yes. However, the guest room is being renovated.”

“It’s fine. A couch was a luxury for me at one point.”

“Or you…could stay here. And you can have your favorite side, the side closer to the window.”

“Because I always see how the sun’s rays lay on your skin when I wake up,” he smiled. “And how spellbound your eyes make me when you open them and the light hits it.”

“You remember so much.”

“I told you how much I think about you, belladonna. I remember every night that I’m with you.”

dazai listens to music w/ u if u rb. reblogs are cherished; they support me as a creator. <3

© AUREATCHI 2023. no reposts or translations. do not steal.

[blitzwhore]

I just saw Blitzø get called Stolas stockholm victim I can't with this fandom anymore😭

😂 As outrageously incorrect and stupid as that take is, I'm going to go on a tangent here. I hope you don't mind.

I think every fandom has annoying people with awfully terrible takes in it. People with zero media literacy. People who hatewatch. People who think they're entitled to the exact show they would've wanted, which has nothing to do with the actual, existing show.

This is especially true for queer media, and especially true for queer cartoons. (Hi, yes. I was active in the Adventure Time, Steven Universe, Voltron, and She-Ra fandoms when those shows were airing, respectively. I've seen some stuff). Some people just can't handle queer cartoons, period. If the queer characters/ships are soft and wholesome, they're infantilising and boring, and if they're complex and nuanced and actually have conflict, they're abusive and problematic. You'll hear the same recycled arguments over and over again. Like, the shit some people are saying about Blitz and Stolas after The Full Moon? Is literally almost word-for-word what they said about Catra and Adora post-season 3 of She-Ra (and even at the end of the show).

Here's the thing, though! Those people and their bad takes are not what I want to think about what I think about a fandom. Those aren't the people I want to call the fans. They don't deserve that title. Not when so many other people are out there dedicating their time to making gifs and art and meta posts, and writing fic, and commenting/reblogging to show support, and sliding into people's DMs to scream and squee together about a thing they love.

At the end of the day, "fandom" is just a lot of people each doing their own thing. Which people you engage with and allow to stay within your line of sight will determine your fandom experience. Fandom can be a huge, convoluted, online space full of people who are constantly arguing with one another and whose takes make you unfathomably angry... Or it can be you and your 5 friends and mutuals who scream gleefully at one another in 2-note posts. You can't control what others post online, but you can control your engagement with it.

How? Well, here's what I personally do to avoid getting upset by people's stupid opinions online:

Filter 'critical' and 'anti' tags (eg. #anti stolitz #anti vivziepop #Helluva Boss critical #HB critical #vivziepop critical). Many people actually do tag their critical posts because they know it's the respectful thing to do!

If I come across a post that has one or more of those tags, obviously, I don't click through to see it under any circumstances.

If I stumble across a stranger's untagged post with hate/criticism that upsets me: I stop reading and BLOCK. Immediately. I don't look back. I don't finish reading. I don't engage. I just block block block. I <3 the block button, seriously.

If I feel my mind reeling from a bad take I just came across: I take a step back, close my phone, breathe, remember life is beautiful sometimes. Go back and watch an episode I really like. Clean my living space a little. Vent about it to a friend (but only if I really need to, because if not, I'd rather not dwell on it).

If I'm starting to feel the need to reply to someone's bad take (directly or via my own post), I instead make the decision to channel that energy into making fandom posts out of love. (I don't do this just with fandom. If I see something transphobic online, I usually react by reblogging a bunch of trans art or trans positivity posts on my main, for example). I like to think of it as putting some positivity out into the world to compensate for the negativity I just saw. So, for example, if I see someone shitting on my blorbo, I may make a silly post just saying how much I love blorbo. Or I'll make (or draft) a post about how interesting I find some of blorbo's actions. Or reblog another person's positive/interesting post about blorbo.

And finally, I stay the hell away from Twitter. Or at least, if I go on Twitter, I try my best to avoid any tweet that has text in it instead of just art. Even the people who have good opinions spend too much time arguing with the people who have bad opinions on there. I don't want to see people's bad takes! No, not even while reading founded and perfectly articulated criticism of those bad takes! So I just limit my time on Twitter. And again, if someone is putting bad takes on my TL (even if it is to counter them), I unfollow and block as needed.

All this to say, yes, it really fucking sucks to read the opinions of people who don't understand and who hate the characters and ships and worlds you love. Gosh it's the worst. But you can curate your fandom experience. You can focus on the things you can control. You have the power to decide if your fandom experience is draining or fun!

And because I don't know how to finish this, here, have a Stolitz kiss to heal you:

We will keep winning and there's nothing the haters can do about it. 😌

[jadequeen88]

As someone who has worked many different service industry jobs, I obviously have lots of thots about line cook! Eddie. Let me elaborate:

Eddie is the one cook who keeps all the other younger hooligans in line. Did they make a rude comment about your skirt riding up while you’re picking up a drink someone spilled? Spatula to the back of the head. They need to learn to treat these hard-working girls with some respect. One of them wolf whistles? Eddie pinches their ear, looks at you apologetically, and says, “Sorry, sweetheart. This one here is barely housebroken. Doesn’t know how to act around pretty ladies.”

He’s also definitely the one all the servers have a crush on. He’s the topic of many smoke break discussions. You didn’t even smoke until you worked there, just wanting an excuse to bat your lashes and bum cigarettes off him. One night, he grinned as he took a long drag and let the smoke curl out, saying he was smoking his last one, but you could have a hit off it if you wanted. Instead of taking it from him, you wrapped your lips around the filter as he was still holding it. Watching his pupils widen and seeing him lick his lips in response was a big payoff for such a risky move. 

The other servers start getting jealous of your special treatment, but Eddie really doesn’t give a fuck, and as long as your boss is happy with your work, you’re fine with it too. Sometimes he moves your ticket to the front of the queue if it’s a really busy night and the other girls have been giving you a hard time. You shake your head in weak protest, but Eddie just says, “I gotta give my favorite girl the red carpet treatment every now and then, don’t I? You work so hard, darlin’. I gotta do my part to help you keep those bastards out there happy. Keeps that tip money coming in for ya’.” He gives you a wink as he twirls his spatula and gets to work, leaving you a blushing mess. 

Up to this point, you thought it was just Eddie being a flirt because you were the new girl, but the night you see him with one of the particularly annoying cooks pinned against the wall by his throat for calling you a “dumb bitch”, you start to suspect your crush might not be as one-sided as you’d originally thought. Afterward, he walked up to you and asked if you were okay. The gentle caress he placed against your cheek made your lashes flutter before you could stop yourself. “Y-yeah, Eddie. Thanks.” His thumb brushed along your cheekbone, and he graced you with the lopsided smile you loved before pulling away to say, “No one talks about my favorite girl that way.” You were in a daze the rest of your shift. 

A couple of nights after that interaction, you stay late to wrap all the silverware and cut all the lemons. You knew the other servers left those time-consuming tasks for you as a punishment, but you refused to neglect to do them and put the opening shift in a bind. Even if it was fucked up of them to do that to you in the first place. You realized after a few minutes that someone else was there deep cleaning the grill. You nearly dropped a whole container of freshly cut lemons when you heard whoever it was singing along to one of your favorite songs you’d been silently head-banging along to as you worked. 

The soulful delivery of this mystery man’s singing had you weak in the knees, and it only got worse when you peeked around the corner to see that big voice coming out of Eddie’s mouth. His eyes were closed, bandana-clad head thrown back, as he scraped the grease off the grill and sang his heart out. He must have sensed you standing there, because he turned towards you and jumped a little, those pretty chocolate orbs widening. It was kind of adorable. 

“Shit, sweetheart! Didn’t know I had company, or I’d have kept my wailing to a minimum!” He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. How dare he have the nerve to look embarrassed when all you could think about was getting on your knees and under that apron after hearing his voice?

“Eddie, that was…” your voice cracked a little. You cleared your throat and continued. “That was amazing. I love that song, by the way. Not many people here listen to them. You do it justice.”

He turned red and couldn’t meet your eyes, a rare way for the bold man to behave. You liked this side of him. “I do okay, I guess, but I’m better on guitar than vocals.” It seemed to dawn on him that you revealed that you had a similar taste in music then because he perked up and met your gaze again. “Wait, you listen to this kind of stuff?” You nodded and grinned at his sudden switch in tone. “Damn, I didn’t know you could get any more badass!” You laughed at that. “You know,” he continued and cleared his throat. “I’m in a band. We do okay. Decent crowds. We play Tuesday and Friday nights down at the Hideout.”

That’s how you end up at a dive bar the following Friday night, front row cheering Eddie on as he shreds on stage. Afterward, he grabs you up into a sweaty hug, spinning you around. “That’s the best I’ve ever played, baby.” Your heart fluttered. He hasn’t used that pet name before… “You gotta come to every show now and be my good luck charm!” You giggled and agreed. Like you’d ever turn down that offer. 

The flirting amps up at work after that. Eddie yelling out, “There she is! Light of my life, goddess incarnate! How’s your day going, sweetness?” from behind the grill becomes a daily thing. “‘M doing fine, Eddie. How about you?” You always answer. You know what he’s going to say before his mouth even opens, but it gives you butterflies every time. “Million times better now I’ve seen you! Now go out there, kick-ass, and get those tips!”

Things come to a head one night when you’re dealing with a table of Hawkin’s “elite,” the rich boys that thought being born on the right side of the tracks made them special. It didn’t help that their table was in view of Eddie’s workstation. He had a front-row seat to the show, watching them flirt with you, and you have to put up with it, having to smile through it. When the loudest one slipped you his phone number, Eddie couldn’t take it. You heard a clatter and saw a flash of dark curls exit through the back. “What’s going on?” You asked one of the other guys. They all shrugged and looked at each other, just as lost as you were. 

You walk out back and see Eddie leaning against the rough brick wall lighting his second cigarette. He jolts upright when he sees it’s you. “Oh, hey sweetheart. Need to bum one?” He holds the carton towards you, and you can’t help but notice his sad eyes. 

“No, Eds. Can I just have a drag off yours?” 

“Course darlin’,” he mumbles around his cigarette before holding it out to you. He just expects you to let him hold it for you by now. It doesn’t mean it makes his chest ache with want any less, though. 

“What’s the matter, Eds?” You ask sweetly. It embarrasses him that he’s so weak for you. 

“Nothin' to worry about. Promise.” He tries to smile, but he knows you can see right through him. 

You had a feeling it had to do with the asshole trying to give you his number earlier, but you’re still a little nervous to address it and get rejected. So you take a deep breath, brace yourself, and ask, “Was it because that guy gave me his number?”

Eddie couldn’t meet your eyes, “Am I that obvious, sweetheart?” he sighed and looked up to the star-speckled sky overhead, “Some days, I wanna come clean so you’ll reject me already. Put myself outta this misery. But I always chicken out,” he turned to you with misty eyes, “I'm a coward, you know? I’d rather have little pieces of you than nothing at all.”

He barely finished his speech before your hands found his stubbled cheeks, and your mouth was on his. Eddie tasted how you’d imagined he would, the cigarette you shared and cherry chapstick. His eyes closed and he sighed sweetly. It was pure heaven. You pulled away and he smiled bigger than you’d ever seen.

“You silly man,” you whispered, nudging his nose with yours, “All you had to do was ask me out and I’d have said yes.”

“All this time?!” he said, eyes bulging and voice going high.

“Yes! All this time,” you responded. Now it was his turn to initiate a kiss, this one more consuming than the last, his tongue barely swiping your bottom lip. You whined under his touch, making him turn desperate.

“Baby, we gotta revisit this in a couple of hours. Just so I know that I'm not hallucinating.”

“You got it, Eds,” you bit your lip and pulled away from him to go back inside to finish your shift. Before the door closed behind you, you could hear Eddie whooping and cheering in celebration. Needless to say, as soon as you were both clocked out that night, you never kept your hands off each other again.

NOTE: Thanks to everyone on the discord server for fueling this madness. I’d love to revisit this and write an actual fic with smutty goodness. So everyone, let me know what you think!!

@trashmouth-richie @munson-blurbs @pinkrelish @eddiemunsonsmum @courtingchaos @corroded-hellfire @chestylarouxx

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

I saw your hc post with Nathan with a feminine s/o and the part where he liked listening to her talk and that got me thinking about this. He would love it if his s/o played piano. Like, he puts a piano in places like the living room and his office just so when he's there he can listen to them play. Sh maybe you could make a small hc post based on that idea

Ahh, I love this! Sorry it took me so long to post!

Nathan Bateman GN!Reader • Rating: T•Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• ko-fi •

Warnings: Soft!Nathan , swearing, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 455

Oh my gosh, literally pianos everywhere. You have to tell him to calm the fuck down. 

“Do you want a new piano?” “No, you bought me five already.” “Do you need one in a different colour?” “No.” “What about another grand piano for the-” “Nathan.” 

Doesn’t pester you to play for him, but is very happy whenever you play. Even if you’re trying out a new piece and feel like you're constantly messing up, he’s just 100% heart eyes at all times.

Will, however, act like he isn’t if you call him on it. 

If you’re playing and it isn’t within his earshot you’re gonna get a series of, ‘why aren’t you playing near me so I can listen?’ type messages.

You end up just practising near him so he doesn’t complain. 

You call him a baby (affectionate) about it. 

He says he isn’t and sulks for 3 hours. 

When you find him you show him a little song you’ve written for him. 

He gets a little over emotional that you made something for him. And tries to hide it. (He does a bad job.)

Asks you to teach him how to play.

He understands the theory really well, but gets annoyed when he can’t play perfectly after 30 seconds. 

“You’re really good Nathan!”

“I’m shit.”

“You can’t expect to play it perfectly the first time.”

“Why?”

You roll your eyes. “Because you have to learn the muscle memory, you couldn’t box amazingly the first time you tried could you?” 

“I could.” 

“Fuck off.” 

You give him little lessons every day, which he adores. He progresses well, he’s obviously trying really hard, but after a couple of weeks, you realise he’s doing it more to spend time with you and to share in something you enjoy than to become a master at it. (Which surprises you.) 

He likes calling you ‘bossy’ when you tell him to practise or play something. This morphs a little and sticks into a nickname, ‘boss’. 

Whenever he’s on a conference call and someone asks him to do something he doesn’t want to, instead of saying a flat ‘no.’ he just starts shrugging and saying ‘you better ask the boss.’ 

He does not explain this to anyone, causing a lot of confusion (which he loves). 

No one has any idea that you’re ‘the boss’ until a rare in-person event when Nathan isn’t being his hermit self and he refers to you by the nickname in front of a couple of staff. 

What you expect to be the end of the joke turns into people asking and emailing you for permission and sign offs. (And to get Nathan to do things.) 

Nathan finds this all hilarious and will not correct the situation.

Thank you for reading!

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[grcetxt]

Fuck it we ball fanfic time. Gn reader x lars pinfield WOO

Okay WOO lmk if this is shit or ooc or anything, but im pretty happy with how this went :D its a little rushed, might redo it in the future idk. Also i made Y/N bit too much like me (northern) so watch out for that american readers SORRYYY. anwyays enjoy!

I am smart.

No don't laugh, I am, genuinely I am.

Maybe not in the way that others deem important, maybe not in the traditional sense, but I am bright.

Pinfield doesn't think so, the prick.

Every day I come into work, all smiling and welcoming, and what do I get in return? A roll of the eyes if I'm lucky.

Dickhead.

But I don't let him get to me, I love my job. My boss is chill, I love hanging out with Lucky, and the Spenglers seem nice! It's a good gig, really.

I'm the "PR guy" for Ghost Corps. Every time they fuck up and destroy a building or whatever I'm the one who covers it up. I'm a real smooth talker, 'gift of the gab' my mum used to call it.

The team needs me, I know that, they know that. Im crucial to the whole operation, the sole reason why that whiny mayor dude hasnt shut them down.

I'm the one who goes to press interviews, who goes on the radio or on TV. I'm the social media manager, I make videos, and post tweets, fuck I've even started a Ghostbusters youtube account! I deserve a raise honestly. #justiceforY/NthePRguy

I get on with everyone at work except for Pinfield, and I genuinely dont know why.

I've tried getting him to feature in videos, or explain the science of stuff to me so I can actually seem like I know what I'm talking about- but he just brushes me off.

Gary tries to reassure me about this on a daily basis. "Its nothing to do with you Y/N" he smiled one day, putting a hand on my shoulder and guiding me away from the busy scientist. "He doesnt really talk to anyone, he gets really passionate about his work"

"I get that, but there's no need for him to be a dick to me, he's got me thinking all kinds of shit honestly!" I replied, exhasperated "I've never done nowt to him"

Suddenly, Pinfield raised his head from his work, scrunching his eyebrows together. "thats a double negative" he commented, looking at me as if I was stupid. Great, It's the most he's ever spoken to me and its a fucking insult- atleast I think it is.

"you what?" I ask, making my way over to him despite Garys protests. I fold my arms, looking as menacing as i can (which ive been told isn't very menacing at all)

"I said its a double negative, if you've never done nothing then you must've done something" before I can reply, he adds onto the end "which you haven't, by the way. I dont know why you think that. I treat you the same as anyone else"

I can't explain why his answer bothers me so much, but it does. Why does he view me in the same way he views the others? That's hardly fair. I'm always welcoming to him, I make time out of my day to include him in things. I hate to admit it, but I genuinely admire him aswell. His love for all things paranormal, the way he gets so excited and proud when he gets to explain the science of ghost-catching to someone. It's oddly endearing.

I tell him as much (excpet for the stuff about him being endearing, he doenst need his ego inflated any more than it already is)

He looks confused, I've never seen him look like that- its weird. Arrogant? sure. Annoyed? when is he not bffr. Happy? Once or twice. But confused? Weird. This is the guy with all the answers, the smart one.

He thinks for a moment, before seemingly making a desision. He stands up with a small huff of exhasperation, and walks off.

As he goes past me, he grabs my arm, more gently than I thought he was capable of. Okay, i guess im coming too. Fun, roadtrip time.

He takes me out of the lab and down the corridor, into a relatively well lit small room.

"Well this is-" before i can speak properly, he cuts me off. Told you he was a prick.

"I dont understand you Y/N" he blurts out, looking at me, as if I'm some sort of specimin hes studying in the lab.

"Well good." I joke. I dont like the serious tone he's taking. Dont like how aware I am of his gaze. HATE the fact I can feel my cheeks burning. Gross. Pinfield is a dick, we've established this. Why the fuck am I BLUSHING because he's LOOKING at me? Bit embarassing, pull it together Y/LN.

He doenst like this though. He shakes his head, pacing around.

"No Y/N you dont get it. I understand everyone, sort of anyways. I've observed them, I can predict their reactions to things. I know what they're all like- but you're... I just dont understand! You're so happy and nice all the time, but you also get angry at stupid stuff, but never really properly angry? I cant make sense of it, genuinely. You've not done anything wrong, you can't do anything wrong. Thats frustrating too. It's like you're this perfect, beautiful person, and I've been trying to see flaws but I cant-" He rambles, speaking like hes just letting out one stream of constant thoughts. He seems stressed, poor guy.

I interupt him, grabbing his arm. "Hey, c'mon Pinfi- I- Lars. C'mon Lars. I'm not worth the stress mate" I try and reassure him, but that just agitates him more.

"See! That's just it! I've been horrible to you, I admit it. But you've kept trying with me! When I hurt my hand you were the one who bandaged it and put it in a sling"

(i had found him almost blacked out from the pain on the lab floor, even the memory of it sent a shiver down my spine)

"you were the only one that looked for me after we all nearly died fighting Garraka"

("Pinfield? Pinfield!? Oh my god, there you are! Thank fuck you're alright!" Okay maybe this tiny non-crush had been going on longer than i thought... christ)

"I dont like the thought of you hurt..." i muttered, embarrased. this definitely wasnt how i was expecting this conversation to go, fuck my life I was crushing on a nerdy scientist who defintely didn't like me back.

He stopped his pacing and walked over to me until the gap between us was non existant. He slowly, hesitantly, lifted his hand until he cupped my cheek.

"I don't like the thought of you upset because of me" he muttered, his voice low.

My heart completely stopped, my breath caught in my throat, was this happening? how was this happening? i swear this guy was like my mortal enemy not even 5 minutes ago. so many revelations were bieng made today...

I decided to be bold, why not? fuck it, i've got nothing to loose at this point.

I leaned in so our noses just grazed eachother, looking at him, really genuinely looking at him. his soft blue eyes that seemed to peer into my soul. Not pierce through it, like some weird blue eyed fuckers i knew, but looked. gently, tenderly, as if he was looking at everything i ever had been, or would be. like i was something beautiful, something to be treaured.

It made me want to sob at the thought. god, how disgustingly sweet.

"make up for it then" i whispered, the tension so thick i could cut it with a knife.

I'd planned on being the one to make the forst move, but apparently, that was all that Lars needed.

He kissed me. His soft lips pressed against mine, sotfly, tenderly, tentatively.

I could feel the anxiety radiating off of him, so i quickly reciprocated. More eagerly than i owuldve liked- but oh well.

I could feel his hand resting on my waist, his thumb gently stroking my cheek. It all felt so tender, so raw, not at all how i thought it would be.

I felt like a teenager again, and couldnt resist letting out a small giggle, making Lars pull away. He looked confused again, making me laugh once again.

"What?" he aksed, a sort of amused smile on his face.

"Nothing- sorry. Nothing at all. Just thinking of how fuming mums gonna be when i tell her ive got a posho for a boyfriend"

"I am NOT posh!"

"you are a littleee"

"I AM NO- wait- boyfriend?"

"oh shit didnt mean to say that bi-"

he cut me off with another kiss, this one much more confident.

It felt like a million fireworks were going off in my head, oh I could definetly get used to this feeling. This war, sweet, happy feeling. My senses were flooded with everything Lars. His taste, his smell, his touch.

I felt like I was learning to live again.

[denaliwrites]

It's Been a Long, Long Time

Alec Hardy x GN!Reader

Summary: The two of you danced around your feelings like two tango dancers... who don't know how to tango.

Soundtrack: It's Been a Long, Long Time by Harry James

Requests: Open!

Warnings: Abundant dumbassery.

You'd known Alec Hardy since he first moved to Broadchurch.

He'd stepped into the cafe where you worked on his very first day with the Broadchurch police and ordered a plain black coffee and a croissant. A bit basic, you'd thought at first, but then you'd reminded yourself that not everyone needed sugar bombs and heavy breakfasts to get going in the morning.

Given he was little more than a (rather grumpy) twig, you'd come to the conclusion that he'd probably die of a heart attack if he consumed anything more than his plain black coffee and croissant.

He came in nearly every day after that, and nearly every day it was the same order. Sometimes he picked up an extra drink for his partner, or he ordered a fruit pastry instead of his usual croissant. One time, he'd ordered tea instead of coffee. But for the most part, for the better part of a year, it was the same thing, over and over.

The first few visits, he'd refused to talk to you beyond what was strictly required -- he gave you his order and a thank you, and then he was gone. Over the months, though, he opened up more and more. He'd never needed to tell you his job -- that was easy enough to guess once the Danny Latimer case reached the public. But other details, like that he had a daughter, or that he was a cat person, or that his favorite color was green -- those came after months of only receiving "my usual, please."

Even with him opening up, though, he was hard to get to know, and even harder to fall in love with... yet you managed both. Unfortunately, Alec was an idiot.

Your boss, Alec's partner Ellie, pretty much anyone who saw the two of you interact could see that you were crushing rather hard on the detective. Anyone and everyone, except the man himself.

At first, it drove you up the wall how blind he was to your affections -- you weren't exactly making any effort to keep it concealed, and in fact thought you made it rather obvious -- too obvious, maybe, if all of Broadchurch excluding the idiot in question could tell.

But then it slowly became a game to you -- how clear could you be yet still be misunderstood? Every day you played chicken with yourself -- would today be the day? The answer was always no, even when you gave him a heart-shaped cookie on Valentine's. You'd even said "on me." Hell, before that you'd even given him a peck on the cheek under mistletoe sometime around Christmas.

You were pretty sure any chance you had at romance with him was doomed.

At least, until the Farthing Wood Club Incident.

You hadn't exactly meant to witness a crime. It just sort of happened. You were cleaning up after an event you'd catered when someone broke into the event hall and started tearing through the place.

Quietly, carefully, you ducked into a supply closet and dialed the only person you could think to call -- Alec. Of course. You heard him pick up but didn't dare answer him, even as he got louder and more annoyed, to the point where you had to mute him.

He hung up, and panic flooded your system. Desperately, you called him again, only to put him back on mute when he picked up.

You were relieved when he didn't hang up.

Any thoughts you may have had about why were lost as footsteps approached the closet. They got so close that you could hear the man breathing and, instinctively, you stopped. Several moments passed before he moved on, and it took every ounce of self-control you had to keep yourself from gasping for breath.

He passed by again a few minutes later, then again a few minutes after that.

This repeated a number of times, to the point that you were starting to get dizzy from keeping your breath held in so many random intervals.

"Oi! Anyone in here?" you heard Alec's voice call from somewhere in the building, just as the man who'd broken in passed the closet. You heard Alec call your name, and it filled you with dread as you realized that now the intruder probably knew someone else was here.

You could almost hear the man's head turn towards the closet, but before he could open the door and find you, Alec's footsteps echoed closer -- and the intruder's footsteps made the sound of a hasty retreat.

You didn't allow yourself to breathe until the voice of Alec calling your name got close -- practically right outside the door. Then, with no hesitance or shame, you threw yourself out of the closet and into Alec's arms.

Without thinking, and with nothing in your veins but pure, unfiltered adrenaline, you pulled him into a relieved kiss.

He was pretty predictably shocked at first, especially as mid-kiss your body started shaking with sobs, but rather than push you away or even break the kiss, he simply... held you. Let you ride out the emotions in the way you seemed to need.

Finally, you pulled away, wiping at your tears and panting as everything came crashing down. "G-God, I'm so -- I'm so sorry," you whimpered, looking anywhere but at him. "I don't know why I did that. I just..."

"Hey," he started, pulling your attention back to him. He looked so... calm, so reassuring. "Everyone deals with situations like this differently. Believe it or not, that's not even the strangest thing someone's done t'me in a moment of high stress."

You managed to chuckle a little, but it came out somewhat hollow. "Really? You're gonna try to tell me someone's done worse than kiss you unexpectedly?"

"It wasn't entirely unexpected."

You blanched. "What do you mean?"

"Well, like I said, I've gotten weirder reactions."

Oh. That was... a lot less anxiety-inducing than you were expecting.

"Yeah, well. This wasn't really the way I pictured our first kiss going," you admitted with a sigh.

"Oh? You were picturing us havin' a first kiss?"

Fuck.

And the way he sounded so pleasantly surprised, it threw you off but filled you immediately with delight.

"Well, yeah, I've only been crushing on you since the day we met."

"Oh, why didn't you say somethin'?" he asked.

That brought out a barking laugh. "Alec, I've been dropping hints for months. Some of them were... I dunno, nuclear level obvious."

"Oh... well," he said, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. "Y'ken, sometimes ye just gotta say it outright for us to get it."

"Yeah, I learned that early on. I guess I just hoped I was wrong or something, maybe."

"It does explain a few things," he said thoughtfully.

You thought it explained most things involving the relationship between you two, but you wondered what he was thinking of in particular. "Oh yeah?"

"Well, there was that mistletoe just before Christmas... and again on New Year... and the heart cookie..."

Leave it to Alec to miss all but the most obvious of clues. Of course.

"Oh, Alec," you sighed. "What am I gonna do with you?"

"Dunno. Grab dinner, maybe? After I file a report for this, of course."

[blueicequeen19]

Charter Ch. 6

Warnings: drama, angst, threats of violence, oral, protected sex, age gap, boss & employee

Chelsea is here and she brought friends from the rougher side of the Cut. Baseheads. Big, buff friends covered in tattoos that look like they’re here for a fight. JJ takes a deep, murderous breath and I find myself taking his hand.

“Stay here.” JJ doesn’t look at me as he moves to the door but I tug on his wrist.

“Call the police!” I plead, reaching up to capture his face between my hands. His blue eyes are ablaze, his chest heaving with every angry breath.

“The cops in this town don’t give a shit about a Maybank.” JJ bites back, trying to pull away from me but I shake my head.

“There’s four of them and one of you. Do not do this.” JJ pulls free of my hold and steps back, going to a shelf next to the tv and grabbing something off the top shelf. A gun.

“JJ, wait, let’s just—.”

“I’m done with these fucking clowns. Stay in here. I mean it.” JJ steps onto the enclosed porch with the gun in his hand as his ex and her friends yell profanities and threats. I’m frozen for a moment before I run back to his bedroom to find my phone.

I quickly dial the sheriffs department and on the sixth ring an annoyed sounding female dispatcher answered.

“I need the police to my location for a.. break in. I’m not sure the address but it’s out on the marsh, a fairly newer build.”

“Ma’am, is this not your residence?”

“No, it’s my.. friends.” There’s a pause and a lot of clicking of a keyboard.

“I have your location. Is Johnathon James Maybank the owner?” I pause, having never heard JJ’s real name before. No wonder he went by JJ if John B was practically his brother.

“Yes.”

“Okay ma’am, all our officers are currently busy on other calls but we’ll send someone out there as soon as we can.”

“Are you serious? They have guns! Someone could get shot!” I was only assuming but at this rate with all the craziness, I wouldn’t put it past these people who decided to trespass.

“Ma’am—.” I hang up and look up John B on social media before sending him an urgent message. I quickly throw my phone down and pull on a pair of his shorts before running back down the hallway to the front of the house. I stop to grab the wooden baseball bat next to the front door and step out onto the enclosed porch where JJ stands on the steps, gun in hand.

I try not to let my gaze linger too long on the marks I made all over his back and arms as I move next to him.

“I’m not going to tell you again—.”

“Look who it is! Your little employee putting in her overtime! Is she even legal, J?” Chelsea laughs, pushing her blonde hair off shoulder with a wicked grin. She looked worse than the last time I saw her.

“Looks like she wants some of this too.” One of her goons says, looking to the bat in my hand.

“The cops are on their way. Better leave while you still can.” I announce, swinging the bat up to rest on my shoulder. Their eyes widen in alarm and JJ’s head snaps towards mine.

“You know what happens to snitches?” Chelsea spats at me, her face scrunched up in a snarl.

“You know what happens to trespassers?” JJ counters, the click of the safety being released echoing between all of us.

“My child lives here. I have a right to be anywhere she is.”

“You have no rights so therefore you don’t. Crawl back into whatever hole you’ve been in and fuck off.”

“You gonna back that mouth up, Blondie? Your daddy still owes us money.” One of the guys calls, cracking his knuckles. His dad? But JJ only smirks.

“Come and get some. You wouldn’t be the first bitch I’ve put in their place.” The guys all stiffen, nostrils flaring as their hands ball into fists.

“J.” I whisper softly, wrapping my hand around his wrist. He was terrifying like this. Just then the bloop of a police siren startles us all and a cruiser turns into the yard since the driveway is blocked. Shoupe steps out, hand on his gun, as he faces the trespassers.

“There a problem here?” Shoupe asks, his voice and posture dripping with authority.

“No, officer. No problems here. Just having a friendly chat. We’ll be going now.” Chelsea shoots us both a deadly look before her and her goons pile back into the piece of shit truck they came in and back out of the driveway.

What were we going to do now that they know where he lives?

Shoupe turns back to us, his hand still on his gun as he looks from JJ to the piece in his hand.

“You got a permit for that, Maybank?” JJ’s body visibly relaxes after the taillights for Chelsea’s truck can no longer be seen and he smirks at Shoupe.

“For what?” JJ counters, clicking the safety on and tucking the gun into the waistband of his shorts.

“Wanna tell me what that was about?” Shoupe asks, finally taking his hand off his own gun and approaching. JJ shrugs.

“Hard telling.” I shoot a look at him. Why is he not saying anything?

“Uh huh. Word around town is your ex is causing trouble and asking about you and your daughter. Do you have a protective order in place?”

“A piece of paper doesn’t stop anything.”

“Maybe not but it’s a paper trail and if it gets violated, people end up in jail.” JJ stays silent for a moment, staring back at Shoupe.

“Just come down to the station and we can get the paperwork started.” Shoupe presses but JJ shows no sign of giving in.

“J.” I try to take his hand but he curls his fingers away, like a punch to the gut. I have to fight to keep my face neutral as Shoupe looks between us.

“I’ll think about it. See you later, Shoupe.” JJ dismisses Shoupe before turning and disappearing into the house. Shoupe gives me a look I can’t quiet pinpoint - like pity - and gets back into his cruiser. I watch him exit the driveway before heading back inside.

I hear the shower turn on but I know for some reason I’m not invited. I quickly redress into my own clothes and throw my hair up into a bun. Emotions choke me and my throat is tight. This was a lot to deal with. It’s no wonder he kept me at arms length. But why was he mad now? Because I called the cops? Did he really want to face them alone? I startle at a knock on the front door then I hear it open. I emerge into the hallway to see John B walking in, obviously comfortable enough to just walk in. His eyes lock on me and he gives me a nod of acknowledgment.

“Everything good here?” He asks, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“Yea. Shoupe came after all.” John B nods just as JJ enters the hallway in a towel. He looks from me to John B and shakes his head.

“It’s all good, Bree.” JJ sighs, going into the kitchen to get a beer.

“What did Shoupe do?” John B asks, taking a beer from JJ.

“Nothing but piss them off.” I scoff at JJ’s words. Why was he insisting on fighting this battle alone? His eyes narrow at me just as John B glances between us.

“He wants JJ to file a protective order against Chelsea so if she comes around Summer, she’ll be arrested. He’s also pissy that I called you and Shoupe.” I announce, crossing my arms and staring back at the heated blonde. I can feel John B look between us again.

“Yea, JJ don’t like cops or people helping him. He’s the only one allowed to be put at risk. Been that way since we were kids.” John B says, drawing JJ’s glare to him.

“I got shit to do. I’ll be there to get Summer in a bit.” John B chuckles at JJs dismissal.

“Whatever you want to do. Sarah says she can stay again if needed.” John B rounds the counter and they do some tacky handshake before John B makes his way to the door, only pausing to look back at me.

“Keep him out of trouble.” He says, before closing the door behind him. I nod, my heart racing a mile a minute as I turn to face JJ. His glaring at me, his wet hair dripping onto his shoulders and down his chest. Why was he so sexy when he was pissed off?

“You should probably head out. And watch your back now that there’s a target on it.” JJ says, tipping his beer up and draining the rest of it.

“I’ll just call the police again.” I shrug, crossing my arms as we glare back at each other.

“People on the Cut, especially Baseheads, don’t fuck around when it comes to snitches. It’s an unspoken rule not to talk to cops. That’s a Kook thing.” JJ snaps, drawing my attention to the Pogue tattoo across his knuckles.

“So, what? You were just going to take on all of them? Four vs one? End up in jail yourself? What happens to Summer if you go to jail?” I throw back and he growls, taking a dangerous step towards me. I crane my neck to look up at him, refusing to back down.

“If you wanted someone you can tell what to do and control, you picked the wrong girl.” I breathe, my body heating just being this close to him. JJ’s eyes trail over me, down the skimpy outfit I came in last night and back up to my face.

“I didn’t pick anyone.” His words have their desired effect and I try not to wince. “Now go. I’ll see you at work.” JJ nods to the door and for once I don’t have a single smart comment to make so I simply grab my things and leave.

I refuse to cry or show my wounded heart so I do the only thing I can.. fake it. The rest of the week slides by with ease and I pretend that JJ means absolutely nothing. I don’t stay until close like normal so I’m not tempted to let him bend me over the nearest flat surface. And I know id give in.

I manage to keep myself busy by picking up another job for the evenings on weekends, flirting with boys closer to my age, then masturbating until I’m weak. The only problem being that I get myself off to the memory of him. The way he feels. The sounds he makes when he cums. The way he tastes. The feel of his callused hands and rings on my body. I can make myself cum three times in a row and it still doesn’t dampen the fire that he’s lit in me.

I manage our shifts together just fine as long as I don’t look at him. When work needs to be discussed, I busy myself and keep my head down while giving one worded answers. I can feel the tension between us growing. I’m sure he’s just as pent up as I am. I’m surprised he hasn’t thrown me over his shoulder yet and hauled me to the back. But he would think that’s him giving in and he’s not one to lose.

I’m scrolling through my phone on my break, hiding in the tiny room with enough room for a fridge, microwave, and a sink, when I stumble across a video I took of him going down on me. Heat erupts all over my body and my clit throbs like the horny bitch she is at the memory. I can’t stop myself from lowering the volume and watching as he works my pussy with that skilled tongue, his heated blue eyes staying on mine. My own moans have me squeezing my thighs together. He sucks my clit into his mouth, making my hips jerk in the video and as I’m standing here watching. When he pulls back to reveal his arousal covered mouth and pushes two fingers inside me, I turn the video off, my body on the verge of combusting. I drop my phone on the table and grip the edges to try and ground myself. I squeeze my thighs tight but the ache doesn’t subside. I’m literally on the verge of slipping my hand into my shorts when a throat clears behind me. I snatch up my phone as I turn to face him, my heart in my throat and my pussy pulsing. Just by the look in his eyes, I can tell he knows what I was doing. Or about to do. I love and hate that cocky smirk of his and the way he tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth.

“I have a video similar to that.” JJ props his shoulder up against the door frame as he pulls out his phone, swipes a few times then turns it to face me. I remember this video too. My back was pinned against the wall as he fucked my face while keeping his hands on his phone. My throat had been so sore but it was worth it. I tear my gaze away from the sight of his cock jackhammering into my mouth, and glare at him.

“I think I have another one too. Ahh, yep.” JJ plays another of me riding him in reverse cowgirl, his free hand grabbing and slapping my ass as I bounce on him.

“Oh, this one is my favorite.” JJ changes the videos to one I instantly recognize from the last time we were together. My heart hurts because somehow this one felt more personal. He’s fucking me from behind, his body flat on top of mine as the phone rests against the headboard, capturing both our faces and his cock disappearing inside me. It was probably the most intense sex we’d ever had.

“Look into the camera.” JJ whispers in my ear in the video. I whimpered as he cupped my throat and forced me to look up, my eyes hooded and my lips parted.

“Watch yourself fall apart for me.” He’d whispered into my ear as he delivered rough, deep strokes. My entire body shivers and I turn away, goosebumps coating my skin as my panties soak further with my arousal. The fucking bastard.

JJ’s hands are suddenly on me and I don’t even fight him. I’m too weak. I miss him so much. I take it when he bends me over the table with a growl and enters me in one hard, deep thrust. His hand fists the back of my shirt as he fucks me hard and fast. I cum quicker than I ever have before, tears in my eyes, as I fight to keep from moaning loudly. His hands slide between us to stroke my clit before I’ve even come back down and my body clenches even harder around his.

“One more. Come on. I know you need it.” JJ urges in my ear. He’s right and I hate him. I shatter into a million pieces before going limp on top of the table as he releases in the condom. I can’t breathe or move as he pulls out, discards the condom and pulls my shorts back up. JJ pulls me to look at him but I don’t want to. It hurts too much.

“Your break is over.” JJ whispers, looking at my lips for a moment before walking away from me. Again.

[halfmoth-halfman]

la douleur exquise

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x GN!Spider!Reader Word Count: 2.6k Warnings: canon-typical violence, fluff, whump, slight body horror

It isn’t easy being one of Miguel’s best agents. He’s a hard man to impress and even harder to get close to, but somehow you’ve managed to do both.

You take pride in your friendship with Miguel; it’s not something easily accomplished and more often, a feat people are too afraid to try for. You get it, he can be intimidating, but you’ve gotten a glimpse beneath that rough exterior. He isn’t some terrifying monster waiting to attack at any given moment.

If he was a monster, he wouldn’t take time out of his day to make sure you eat three meals a day.

He wouldn’t ask for your advice on handling anomalies, much less listen as intently as he does.

He wouldn’t let you literally hang around his office and annoy him to no end during your downtime.

You know Miguel’s a good man. Is he a little too stern with the others? Yes. Does he take his job too seriously sometimes? Also yes. But you couldn’t imagine you’d be any other way if you were in his position.

He’s a good boss and a good friend—quite possibly your best friend—someone you trust with your life, and you’re about ninety-eight percent sure he feels the same about you. At least, you hope so. It’s that, or you’ve suddenly become really bad at reading people.

“Widow, come in.”

Speak of the Devil.

“If it isn’t my favorite boss,” you smile, looking down at your watch just in time to see Miguel roll his eyes.

“I’m your only boss.”

“Still my favorite,” you laugh. “What’s up?”

“I need you to meet up with Jess. Lyla—”

“Oh, wait, let me guess! Lyla detected another anomaly, and you need your best spider-person to get the job?”

Miguel doesn’t even look at you, too busy with whatever’s on his monitors, as he lazily shrugs, “Yes, actually—”

“Wait, really?”

“—But he’s stuck on Earth-13122, so you’ll have to do.”

“I walked right into that one, didn’t I?” you sigh, smile still playing at your lips. You catch the quirk of his lips, the tight swallow as he fights down a laugh.

It’s a shame; he has such a nice smile.

“Jess will fill you in on the details,” Miguel continues, back to business as usual.

“No problem, boss.“ Giving a mock salute, Miguel disappears, and you’re left gazing longingly after his visage. A small sigh escapes you, heart aching at his absence.

So, maybe Miguel isn’t just your best friend. Perhaps you’d like him to be something more, but you’ve been holding on to that hope for years with no indication that his feelings for you run deeper than platonic. It hurts having to deal with that fond pinch of your heart every time you see him, but you’ve resigned to dealing with it.

“You done pining yet, or do you need another minute?”

You damn near jump out of your skin at Jess’s voice, whirling around to come face-to-face with her.

“Oh hey, Jess! I didn’t see you there.” You try to laugh it off, looking everywhere but the woman smirking at you.

“Sure,” she teases. “You were too busy making eyes at—“

“Miguel said something about an anomaly?” you cut her off quickly. She gives you one last look that says you’ll definitely be talking about this later before shifting into business mode.

“We got a report about an unusually strong anomaly,” Jess explains, tapping away on her watch. “Due to the conditions of the universe he’s stuck in, Miguel thought you’d be the best for the job.”

A swirl of inter-dimensional orange mixes with the lush tropics of your universe’s floating islands behind her.

“He…did?” you ask with a tilt of your head.

“His exact words were, and I quote, There’s no one better suited for the job. He asked me to come along to help you.”

“No, he didn’t,” you scoff. It isn’t unusual for you to be one of the first ones called to deal with anomalies, but it’s certainly not normal for you to take point.

“You can ask Lyla,” Jess shrugs as the portal blinks opens.

“Why? What’s up with this universe that I’m needed, specifically?”

Jess’s mouth quirks into a knowing grin, waving you over with one foot in the portal.

“You’ll see.”

“I thought you said it was one anomaly!” you scream at Jess, tucking and rolling down another massive sand dune to dodge an incoming swing from the amalgamation of muscles, tendons, and cybernetics that make up the anomalous Lizard.

“There was!” Jess shouts back, kicking off the undead Electro, who looks a little too much like an oversized Frankenstein’s Monster for you to take him seriously.

“Obviously not!” you huff. The unforgiving sun bears down on the four of you, the golden light of this universe’s eternal sunset reflecting off the molten sand. The grains scratch at your suit, visible heat waves rolling over the endless desert.

You duck from another swing of The Cyber-Lizard’s tail, sliding across the sand as he gives chase. You can see the heated sand pulling the moisture from his skin every time he touches it, the coarse epidermis cracking and splitting open.

Miguel was right about one thing, you think. The burning sunset colors of your suit shift with the sands, your skin absorbing every heatwave that rolls by to energize you. There really was no one better suited for the job.

The next time Cyper-Lizard leaps for you, you turn and run, trying to get closer to Jess and the Zombie-Electro. She holds her own well enough—you’d expect nothing less—despite having to abandon her bike to the difficult terrain of this universe.

“Jess, get down!” you shout, sliding down a sand dune toward her. She crouches down, and you launch yourself off the dune, soaring over her.

Zombie-Electro takes the opportunity to attack, one arm extending with a horrendous groan. The jagged bolts of electricity keeping him hovering in the air spark and stretch up his stitched-together body, preparing to launch from his hand.

You beat him to the punch, shooting a web that blocks his hand as you collide with him mid-air. He groans and swats at you, but you’re too quick, attaching to webbing on his hand and crawling around the length of his body.

You’re a chaotic blur of sticky silk, oranges, and reds, webs shooting from every direction as you wrap Zombie-Electro into a massive cocoon, trailing webs around him and shooting off the sticky fibers to tether him to the sandy ground.

Using his head as a springboard, you launch off of him, landing gracefully next to Jess.

“Not bad,” she laughs, staring up at your makeshift monument to watch your webs solidify.

“All in a day’s—“

“Move!”

The blunt force hits you first, the searing pain of heated metal sinking in a second later as Cyber-Lizard’s tail slams into your torso and launches you into the air.

You hear Jess shouting, and your watch beeps. The sand sparkles, a flash of orange across the ocean of molten gold beneath you, and something pulls you out of the air.

You land at the base of your Zombie-Electro tower, or rather Miguel lands with you held firmly in his arms.

“Oh hey, boss,” you say airily. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Though you can’t see his face, he groans, and you know he’s rolling his eyes. Miguel sets you on your feet, waiting an extra second to make sure you can stand on your own.

Pain blossoms across your torso, but your suit works fast to absorb the heat from Cyber-Lizard’s tail and use it to relax your muscles.

“I’m good, promise,” you wheeze, leaning against one of your web pillars. “Go help Jess.”

“Stay here,” Miguel commands before taking off.

“Yeah, no problem,” you nod, waiting until he’s joined the fight to slide to the ground and collapse against your webbing. “I’ll just hang here with my new friend.”

Zombie-Electro groans, a slight shock of electricity traveling down your webs to zap your shoulder.

Your peace doesn’t last long, a massive roar—more the sound of metal screeching against shredded vocal cords—echoing across the dunes. You barely have time to react, getting to your feet—ribs screaming at you in protest—just as Miguel and Jess come flying toward you.

Jess recovers easily, bracing herself and sliding across the sand to stop on your left, while Miguel collides with the harsh structure of your webs on your right.

“Welcome back,” you laugh, holding a hand out to Miguel. He takes it with a huff, using your body as an anchor to jump to his feet. “Think we should call for back—“

“No,” Miguel snaps, and you exchange a look with Jess.

“Miguel—“ You step forward, reaching out to him, but pain shoots up your ribs, knees buckling. They’re quick to catch you, Miguel wrapping an arm around you to keep you upright, and Jess keeping your head from hitting the web-scaffolding.

“We should—“

The familiar shiver crawls up your spine, settling into your brain, the chittering hiss echoing in your mind.

You react a split second before Jess can, the surge of adrenaline giving you the added strength to shove Jess and Miguel away from you as Cyber-Lizard’s claws tear into your back.

You react on pure instinct and survival.

Both hands braced against your web scaffolding, your suit expels all its collected heat in a massive blast. Cyber-Lizard roars as the heat hits the alloy of his cybernetics, the metal already beginning to melt.

He stumbles, but the base of your webs liquify under your touch, and you use the tacky silk to pull him into you just as the entire scaffolding collapses.

Everything feels…heavy.

Distant.

A constant ebb and flow of consciousness like you’re trapped underwater, waves crashing over you whenever you break the surface.

You’re awake, but you aren’t; still present in your body, aware of your surroundings, but unable to move or react.

You hear people talking around you, sometimes quietly, sometimes urgent. There’s beeping and whirring and occasionally the phantom pain of something pinching into your arm.

It all settles into quiet, and you’re left with your scattered thoughts and a gentle pressure in the palm of your right hand.

Thirst is the first thing to hit you when you wake up.

Your throat’s too dry to make noise, but your eyes peel open and instantly move to take note of your surroundings.

You’re back at HQ, lying in the infirmary without your mask.

Guess the anomalies were taken care of.

You feel the dull ache across your body, and you’re sure you have a collection of bruises and bumps to take care of. You can already feel the heat of your suit encasing your skin and working to help you heal. You wiggle your toes, roll your shoulders, then flex your hands. Everything’s working fine, except…

You flex your right hand again, feeling that same solid pressure in your palm. You squeeze, putting as much strength as you can muster into it.

What is—

“Stop it.”

Your head snaps to the right, ignoring the pain that shoots down your neck. Miguel sits in a chair beside your bed, eyes shut with one arm crossed over his chest and the other…

You turn your hand, fingers lacing through his as you squeeze again, far more gently this time.

He opens his eyes, peering down at you with his best stern look. It’s hard to take him seriously when he looks so tired, with deep bags under his bloodshot and swollen eyes, and stress lines more prominent.

“You look like shit.” You rasp out a laugh. Miguel raises an unamused brow, giving you a blatant once over as if to say have you seen yourself. You roll your eyes, carefully turning your head back to look at the ceiling.

“Did you catch—”

“Yes.”

“Is Jess oka—”

“Yes.”

“You’re mad at me.”

“Furious.”

You nod, eyes sliding shut as you wait for the inevitable lecture. You wait a few seconds, then ten, then thirty. When Miguel doesn’t speak after a minute, you chance another glance at him to find him staring down at your linked hands with a look of blatant worry on his face.

“I’m okay,” you say softly, thumb running hesitantly across the back of his hand.

This is uncharted territory for you. Of course, he’s been worried about you before, but nothing more than asking if you were hurt after a mission.

He says it so quietly you almost don’t hear him.

“You flat-lined.”

Oh.

“I’m sorry.” It’s the only thing you can think to say. Miguel scoffs out a laugh, turning to look at you with a shocked expression.

“You’re apologizing? For almost dying?” he asks in pure disbelief. You shrug, eyes focused on the ceiling. He shakes his head, muttering something to himself that you don’t catch.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say,” you mumble. Miguel sighs, hand sliding out of your grip—you already miss the warmth—as he leans back from you. A hurricane of emotions swirls inside you: shame, embarrassment, anger, heartache.

You could accept him being mad, but the least he could do was thank you for saving his life.

Your bed dips, and suddenly Miguel is hovering over you, large hands cradling your face and claws gently scratching against your temples.

Your mind goes blank, unable to look away from the intensity of his earthy brown gaze.

“You’re supposed to say, I’ll be more careful next time, Miguel,” he says, stern and low.

“I’ll be more careful next time, Miguel,” you repeat, blinking up at him.

He leans closer, voice soft, “I won’t put myself in harm’s way again, Miguel.”

“I won’t put myself in harm’s way again, Miguel.”

He leans closer again, inches away from your face.

“I promise to never leave you, Miguel.”

Your breath hitches, and you bring your hands up to lightly caress his. You know what he's gone through, the things that he's lost, the distance he's put between himself and any sort of real connection. It had been one of your main reasons for keeping your feelings to yourself, content to treasure your friendship.

You never imagined that he pictured you as anything more.

“Miguel—” he stills at the sound of your voice, “—I promise to never leave you.”

You barely get the words out before his mouth is on yours, years' worth of swallowed feelings and tension pouring out.

If this is a dream, you never want to wake up.

Miguel pulls away first, pressing his forehead to yours with a long exhale. “You know you’re not going on any missions for a while, right?”

“I could use a vacation,” you laugh, leaning up for another peck on his lips. “Spend some time with my favorite boss.”

He shakes his head, looking down at you with nothing but unfiltered affection. He kisses you again, quick and chaste, before leaning up to kiss your head, lips murmuring against your skin, “Get some rest.”

You nod, and he pulls away, standing from the bed. You expect him to leave, to head back to his office, but instead, he takes the seat next to the bed and leans back.

He works from his watch while you nod in and out of sleep. Exhaustion finally catches up with you, and the last thing you see is Lyla appearing on his shoulder with a wide, teasing grin, laughing, “About time.”

some spider facts!

✧ reader is based on the noble false widow spider, more specifically, the genus Steatoda Nobilis!

“Oh hey, Jess! I didn’t see you there.” You try to laugh it off, looking everywhere but the woman smirking at you.

✧ false widow spiders are known to have poor eyesight!

A swirl of inter-dimensional orange mixes with the lush tropics of your universe’s floating islands behind her.

✧ false widows were originally found in warm, tropic areas before spreading across the united kingdom and the us! they are also known to be ambush hunters, often going after flying prey from high up!

Miguel was right about one thing, you think. The burning sunset colors of your suit shift with the sands, your skin absorbing every heatwave that rolls by to energize you. There really was no one better suited for the job.

✧ false widows are often a combination of burnt red and orange colors, and can survive and thrive in extremely dry and hot areas without water!

You’re a chaotic blur of sticky silk, oranges, and reds, webs shooting from every direction as you wrap Zombie-Electro into a massive cocoon, trailing webs around him and shooting off the sticky fibers to tether him to the sandy ground.

✧ false widows often use the "attack wrap" against prey where their silk is quickly wrapped tightly around their victim

“Not bad,” she laughs, staring up at your makeshift monument to watch your webs solidify. *

✧ false widow cobwebs are similar to sticky fibers, while their scaffold silk is exceptionally strong! i embellished here a little to make reader's webs able to transfer between the two as they need it!

[ms-cartoon]

helluva boss female character personalities are completely based on their relationship to male characters that we're supposed to like

the ladies who have either no relationship or a negative relationship with the likable men are bitches 100% of the time. they are rude and stupid and have no other traits and we are just supposed to hate them. (incl. stella, the 2 clown girls from the latest episode, that karen from the drs office- scratch that, every single female comic relief background character)

on the other hand the ladies who are attached to the likable male characters are always shown in a positive light no matter how rude they are (loona, blitzo's sister). this is also the only time we see nice female characters (millie, beelzebub, octavia).

it's kind of funny how straight up sexist it is atp

Exactly! It's kind of like a back-and-forth thing with these characters.

Females who have no relation to the male protagonists = bad guys and we should hate them.

Females who do have a relationship with male protagonists, but treat them horribly anyway and are otherwise left alone = Let's root for them!!!

Some people would only give Loona and Barbie a pass simply because they have (or had in Barbie's case) a certain relationship with Blitzo (a character we're supposed to be rooting for). With Loona, if it's not her being a bangable furry then it's her traumatic past that makes her behavior and actions excusable. She could make fun of Moxxie and call him fat every single time like she's been doing, she could be hostile out of nowhere or distant around people who try to be nice to her (e.g. S1, EP 8), she could say the most hurtful thing possible to Blitzo and act like she hates him, even try to hurt him physically and we're supposed to look at it as "Oh, it's just a traumatic response. She's actually really likable".

. . . I'm sorry. I'm not buying it. No matter how you look at it, calling someone fat, physically abusing a loved one, disrespecting a loved one, and just downright being hostile to someone who doesn't deserve it makes you a bad person! Loona did all those things, making her a bad person. What- when she's beating on Blitzo and kicking his balls in, do you expect me to be like, "Aww! She just needs a hug!"

I can't say much about Barbie, cuz we don't know why she doesn't like Blitzo. I mean- It could only be because she possibly believes he's the reason for the circus's shambles and their mother's death, but it's not confirmed. But in her case, it's more that we see her in the wrong for being hostile to Blitzo and that's supposed to make us feel bad for him. It's been happening with these characters a lot and it's annoying. That includes Stolas with Octavia.

I can't dislike Octavia like how I dislike Loona. I never disliked her. I love Octavia! She is far from being a terrible character. I never said she was one. If anything, I feel bad for her. But right now, it seems to me that she's only a tool character to make Stolas seem pitiful. As a father, Stolas made some pretty crappy decisions and Octavia can only get mad for a little bit until the last minute of the episode when she has a change of heart and willingly forgives him as well as give him a full apology when HE was the one that screwed up. And yes, he was going to say sorry . . . until she stopped him mid-sentence so she could apologize. That just shows us that she feels she's wrong for running away from him, even though he was the one that screwed up. My girl deserves better than this.

[supernovafics]

strangers to lovers to enemies with steve harrington

(very much inspired by “in the kitchen” by reneé rapp)

wc: 1.6k

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

strangers

for the first time in a long time, you didn’t hate your job. 

when you found out robin would be working at the family video next door to the pharmacy you had been working at for the past year, you were glad that you would finally have a friend close by. 

it would make your boring job a bit more bearable. 

you went into family video during your lunch break on one of her first few days. she stood behind the counter with someone you didn’t recognize.  

“welcome to this side of town,” you said with a smile, grabbing her attention. 

she smiled back at you before then sighing. “do you know how many old people call here just to rant about how “disgusting” and “sacrilegious” the movie selection we have here is? answer: too, too many. they even hate the cartoons meant for little kids. i’m pretty sure i lose a year off my life every time a call like that goes past five minutes.” 

the only reason you found her words to be the slightest bit funny was because dealing with annoying old people was a staple to your job as well. “please don’t quit yet. the fact that you’re next door is the only thing that makes me slightly like my job now.”

“i’ll be here for at least a month.”

you laughed at that. “how generous of you.”

“this is steve, by the way,” she told you, gesturing to the guy next to her. 

you nodded at him and introduced yourself with a small smile before heading back next door. 

steve was smiling the entire time as you walked away, something that robin did not fail to notice. 

she lightly nudged him. “don’t even think about trying to get with her, harrington.”

to lovers

naturally, steve did not listen. 

because there was something about you and your personality that he was completely enamored by from that first very minor conversation he had with you at family video. 

therefore, one night when it was just him and keith in the store and no robin to stop him, he went next door to see you. 

you were stocking shelves and were surprised to see him walk into the store. 

“hi?”

“hi.”

there was something about his presence that made you feel slightly nervous, mainly because you didn’t know him well yet, and you always felt awkward around people you didn’t really know. 

“um, how’s it going?” you asked because that was the only thing you could think to say at the moment. 

“i just finished helping a lady find a movie that would ‘spice up her marriage.’ those were her exact words. we spent half an hour looking through pretty much every porn we have in the store, which for a place named family video was weirdly a lot,” steve responded and after your initial shock subsided, you fought the urge to laugh at his story. “and i’ll sadly never get those thirty minutes back. how’s it going here?”

“can’t say i have had experiences like that one today, which i’m very sorry for by the way,” you said. “but, earlier i did have to help an elderly woman pick out the best diapers for her husband, and she went into too much detail about why he needs the biggest size we have. i won’t tell you what she said because you don’t deserve to be subjected to that, but i’m scarred forever.” 

he then made a joke about how insane the people in this town are, which made you laugh, and the minor awkwardness fell away from there. 

“how long is your break?” you asked when it neared an hour of him being there with you. he started helping you stock shelves when after ten minutes of doing nothing other than talking, you told him that your boss would hate you if you didn’t finish stocking by the end of your shift.

steve glanced at the watch he was wearing. “yeah, i should probably be heading back. what time are you done here tonight?”

“i’m off at 10.”

he smiled at your response. “same here. do you wanna do something after?”

“okay,” you nodded and then turned away so that he didn’t see how happy you were at his question. 

that night you drive around aimlessly in his car, listening to music and talking, before stumbling upon a drive-in movie theater and deciding to watch the black and white movie they were playing. 

steve’s affectionate and sweet, and you get hit with the unfamiliar feeling of deeply liking someone that swells your heart. so, when he kisses you when he drops you off at your home, it just makes sense to you. 

to enemies

when robin entered the pharmacy on a random tuesday, a month after your first kiss with steve, she groaned. 

she didn’t know about you and steve yet, but there had been so many instances where you almost accidentally slipped and mentioned it. 

steve hadn’t wanted to tell her about you guys just yet because of how adamant she’d been about him not trying anything with you. you personally thought that after her initial surprise wore off she wouldn’t really care that the two of you were together, but you still understood steve’s hesitance. 

it was quiet in the store when robin walked in, and you were at the front counter, mindlessly flipping through a magazine. 

“what’s happening today?” you asked, knowing that she would have some sort of story to share about family video. for a job that seemed fairly simple, there was always something happening there. 

she sighed as she walked over to you and pushed herself up to sit down on the counter. “steve’s flirting it up with some girl right now. and laying it on very heavy, might i add.”

it would be an understatement to say that her words only surprised you. they confused you, made you do an inward double take to make sure that you truly heard her right. and when you realized that you did hear her correctly, her words immediately saddened you. and the worst part was you couldn’t tell her any of that. 

“oh?” you tried to hide the shock in your voice. you pulled your eyes away from hers and flipped a page in your magazine. 

“yup, and this is surprisingly the third girl this week that’s actually flirting back with him. i had to get out of there this time before it turned into a low-budget john hughes movie,” robin told you and then groaned again. 

you heard yourself responding with, “ew, that sounds horrible,” but your mind was in a completely different place right then, and all you could think about was steve and this girl, and apparently two other girls as well. 

before robin could question your sudden detached demeanor, you shoved everything you were feeling right then  to the side and plastered on a smile. “you can seek refuge here as long as you need.”

robin smiled back at you as she picked up a random magazine, which was actually the same as yours, and began flipping through it. “god bless you.”

she headed back next door twenty minutes later since she was off in an hour anyway, and that was when you finally let yourself sit in the sadness you were feeling. 

sadness that oh so quickly turned to anger. 

and when you saw steve hours later, moments after your shift ended, which was also the same time that his did too, you could feel your blood nearly boiling. 

“hi,” he greeted you with a smile on his face. 

you glared harshly at him before turning away and heading to your car.

“what’s wrong?”

“fuck you.”

you could tell that steve was taken aback by your words and you almost didn’t explain to him why you were acting the way you were, but ultimately you did. 

“robin told me that you were flirting with some girl at the video store today. ‘laying it on very heavy’ were her exact words. and she also said that this was the third girl this week that was actually reciprocating your flirting. third.”

he looked away from you and a part of you expected some sort of an explanation from him, to explain that maybe all of it was somehow some big misunderstanding. however, when no response came, you continued speaking. 

“i know that we didn’t have a full label on this ‘thing’ we have going on, but still, it’s pretty fucked up, and i can’t believe that i thought you actually liked me.”

“i do like you,” steve told you, full conviction in his tone. “but, this was never supposed to be something serious. i thought we were both on the same page with that.”

those words hurt you because in your mind the two of you were working toward something serious. it was still fairly early, but you liked him a lot and you thought he felt the same way. at least when you were making out in his car he made it seem that way. 

“well, i guess we weren’t,” you finally said, trying your hardest to keep your voice steady because you didn’t want him to see how much he hurt you. 

“i’m sorry,” he said, and you hated how you could hear the sincerity in his tone, and you also simply hated him in that moment. you didn’t want him to feel bad for you and you especially didn’t want to see him ever again. 

“just don’t talk to me anymore,” you told him. your voice was cold and harsh, and you didn’t wait to hear any type of response from him before getting in your car and finally driving away. 

on your way home, you realized through blurry eyes that your hope of never seeing him again was probably fruitless because he would be next door to you most days. 

suddenly, you were right back to hating your job. 

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I was told I should come here to tell you about a recent experience I’ve had. Something about how you’re looking for scary stories or whatever. Sure, I’ll tell you, but it’s not like it’s going to help or anything. I don’t think anyone can help me, really.

It happened last night at time of writing, so Monday night. I work as a pool cleaner (pool technician is what they call it, can’t help but roll my eyes every time I have to say it) and with the summer months rolling in, work’s been busier than usual. Everyone wants their pool chlorinated and clean, everyone wants their pool tiling redone, everyone’s looking for a special rate, etc. So many uppity folks believing they’re more important and their water should be cleaned first instead of finding another way to stay cool. Bit annoying if you ask me, but it’s a job, and I couldn’t care less what these people blow their money on

Boss sent me out to some address out in the boonies and I assumed it’d be the same ordeal as always. I show up, vacuum out all the gunk, scrub up a bit, explain basic maintenance to the customer, yadayadayada. Even being out in the middle of nowhere, you don’t really assume anything. Outside of clearly these people are loaded if they live out of the way AND they’re calling about a pool cleaning. The drive there took about half the day because they were very insistent on someone coming out that same day, and I was content with the idea of an easy day for once.

I was wrong.

Everything seemed okay upon arrival. Quaint little house a couple miles out from the nearest town, beautiful property if I’m honest. The grounds surrounding the cottage seemed to be cluttered in a bunch of water fountains and irrigation systems for a small garden the owners were tending to. All of the water sources seemed to snake back in onto themselves, seemingly entangled and intertwined, it was all rather impressive. Whoever owned this land was probably more savvy than I was about the basics of plumbing. Made me wonder for a second why they’d needed a pool cleaner, but I had a job to focus on and not much time to think about it for longer than a passing moment.

When I knocked on the door of the residence, I was met with the most breathtaking view of a gorgeous woman who’d answered the door. A real looker, made me almost envy the person who got to be with her, I’d never been charming enough to end up with someone like that. I couldn’t tell you what she looked like now, or what she sounded like, or all of what she said, but I remember her eyes. I remember that while the rest of her seemed inviting and warm, those eyes remained cold and dark, almost analytical. Scanning for something that I couldn’t quite be sure of.

She’d told me that her husband had just left for work but that the pool was in the back. She handed me the check for services, and initially I was taken aback since normally payment comes after, but it was one less thing for me to worry about. She told me I could get started and that she’d be outside after she’d changed. Wasn’t really sure what that meant at the time, but I wasn’t going to decline seeing more of her, and with a nod I started to head to the back area of the cottage where the pool was.

By far it must have been the filthiest pool I’ve ever laid eyes on. Overgrown moss, all manner of disgusting, vile muck, as if the pool itself hadn’t been cared for in years. I swore I’d seen the carcass of a less than lucky squirrel at one point, but tried not to think about it all. Popped my headphones in and started the process of vacuuming the mess out of there, and I was thankful for the drone of noise that made it impossible to think for too long. It wasn’t until I felt a tap on my shoulder that I stopped, and what I saw when I turned around wasn’t what I expected.

The wife had joined me in the backyard in what had to be one of the skimpiest swimsuits in existence. Strings that screamed at the tension they were put under, and while I tried not to look, I couldn’t help myself. If she noticed, she didn’t seem to make any mention of it, but the next words out of her mouth could have made me keel over from excitement if that were possible.

“Would you help me with some sunscreen?”

We ended up heading over to a lawn chair she’d setup and I enjoyed the feeling of her warm flesh beneath mine as I rubbed the ointment into her skin. I don’t think I would have in retrospect, but in that moment it felt like that was the only thing that mattered in the world. I remember the way she looked at me with those eyes, and how I could see myself reflected in her gaze; I remember how sure of myself she made me seem, and how good it felt to escape my own self-doubts for once. How it wasn’t so bad to be a pool technician after all if it meant I’d get to experience the joy of beautiful women like this more. How I’d be able to tell my mother to kick rocks for thinking I’d never amount to anything.

At some point, she’d requested that I undo the straps tied on her back so she could get an even tan before she could get in the pool. My stomach lurched, but I agreed, and after undoing the straps, she instructed me to go finish up while she enjoyed the view. With a newfound surge of confidence, I set to work, scrubbing away all of the disgusting bits of dirt and grime in a jiffy. Even added some extra cleaning chemicals besides the chlorine so she wouldn’t have to trouble herself with worrying about not being able to take a dip in the pool. If I had known then what I know now, I wouldn’t have been anywhere near as excited. Funny how your thoughts circle when you have time to reflect on things.

My job completed, I announced that the pool was once again open for swimming, and earned a delighted giggle in return. Something that sounded so ephemeral, as though it were not of this world, but I wished to hear it again and again. I’d started to pack up my tools and planned on enjoying the many daydreams I’d be thinking of on the way back of this scenario I’d found myself in when a sudden movement caught my eye. When I turned to look, I found her beckoning me to come closer, a smile playing on her lips while her gaze never left mine. If everything else had been a fantasy prior, her next spoken words were the cherry on top.

“Would you like to join me?”

I watched in amazement as she removed the fabric that barely covered anything and slowly walked back into the pool, her eyes fixed on me, that same come hither motion ever present. I didn’t even need time to think. Before I knew it, I was freed from my clothes and in the water beside her, and we locked into a brief moment of passion. It all felt surreal, as if it weren’t what was happening, but good. That’s when I felt the pull on my ankle. A pull that at first seemed like something I’d neglected to fish out of the pool before announcing that the waters were safe, but one that quickly became terrifying. I felt myself get pulled under, and despite how shallow the pool was, I couldn’t climb back to the surface.

I felt dozens of what felt like hands pulling me deeper and deeper down into the depths of a pool that was much too big for what I’d just cleaned. I swore I heard whispers telling me that things would be so much better if I gave in and joined them and how life could be so much more if I relished being worth something as part of their group. Sentences that still don’t make much sense to me now but they don’t become any less terrifying. I reemerged from the surface as my vision started to darken, and scrambled out of the pool back to dry land, heaving up water as I did. As I caught my breath, I heard a voice say something that made my blood run cold.

“Look. At. Me.”

When I turned back around, I found the source of the voice coming from the pool. I was met with the creeping gaze of someone who’d submerged themselves beneath the surface, only their eyes and the top of their head visible. Whoever was in the pool, it didn’t look like the woman who’d answered the door, and they began to rise from the waters that now appeared murky once again. It was a wretched, decrepit old woman, one who appeared to have become bloated and waterlogged as though they’d been submerged for far longer than the human body can handle.

I watched in horror as she began to cackle, her skin peeling away from her body as she attempted to exit the pool and head in my direction. I was frozen in place and watched as with every shift of the water, this pool began to change, and alter. Faces reflected in the ripples of the waves she was making, faces that I swore I recognized. Her eyes had locked onto me with what I swore was the same cold, dark gaze I’d felt earlier in the day. She was halfway between me and the pool when I was able to steel myself and begin running back to the car. The last words I heard echo from her still haunt me now.

“Get back into the water. Join us. Join your friends. We’re waiting for you.”

I don’t think I stopped the car again until I heard the second alarm go off warning me about low fuel. Quit my job after, I don’t need that kind of stress in my life, there are other things I can do in the meantime. Hopefully the next gig has buxom babes who aren’t completely mental. If not, I’ll be headed to the beach soon, and maybe I’ll get lucky there. Can’t say I’ll be looking to get into the water, though.

...well, I hate to say it but I am feeling physically better than I was prior to reading this statement. Though, I was perhaps remiss in...stalling on responding to this one for so long.

It stuck out to me due to the nature of the...reflection. It tastes similar to whatever has been trying to...consume? Capture? Reflect Tim.

It is a complicated situation, and one I do not yet understand completely. Reflections are...distortions of light, if viewed from a technical standpoint. But they are also imitations, unrealities of their own...there is no shortage of folklore about mirrors and reflections - do not get trapped between them, do not make eye contact with them, do not accept the invitation to step into the looking glass...

Which is to say...I am lost on this. I've come to accept that the powers of the world are...not exactly the same as the ones that I knew of Before, but are no less present. They seem to exist in their own right, though if Michael's door is anything to go by, they are still able to be influenced or at least...visited, by the familiar fears that I Know.

What do I know about the reflections so far... -They appear to feed off of...insecurity, and self doubt. -They can change their appearance (unsurprising) -They are ephemeral in nature, and do not have a fixed Place -They can communicate directly with their victims and targets. -They appear in opposition to predation and blood. I don't know if any of this will be helpful. Martin and Michael are insistent that I stay in the car while they take care of things with Tim. Oh yes, as if that is going to happen. I have more experience than both of them, at least now. That, and the poor pool boy's misfortune was a rather reinvigorating snack. I am feeling much better. Stay in the car, my arse.