#i was rewatching the office but i want to get more caught up with the podcast

[just1cefor4ll]

Doomsday

Seok-woo x fem!reader warning. swearing, not proof read, no happy ending

A/N. rewatched train to busan a few days ago and I just thought of this and wanted to write it out!

You had worked for Seok-woo for as long as you could remember. You were probably there even before he was blessed with his beautiful little girl, Su-an. She had a way of melting your heart effortlessly, much like her father had managed to do over the years, though you'd never admit it. Not out loud, at least.

It was a shameful thing to feel. You, a grown, intelligent, and self-sufficient person, were in love with a man who has a wife. Or, well... had a wife until just a few months ago.

You'd seen how the divorce affected him, but it was Su-an who suffered the most. Her bright, contagious smile had dimmed, replaced by a sadness far too heavy for a child to carry. You tried your best to bring it back whenever she came to the office with her dad on the less hectic days. Whether it was through little jokes, snacks, or just letting her draw all over the unused papers and documents you were sure you’d never need.

Seok-woo noticed, of course. He always did. "You’re too good to us," he'd said more than once, half-smiling in that soft way that made your chest tighten.

Today was one of those days when Su-an had tagged along. She was sitting quietly in your office, flipping through the stack of magazines you kept on the coffee table for guests. Her small hands delicately turned the pages, her big eyes wide with fascination. "A little birdie told me it’s someone’s special day today," you teased with a playful smirk, pulling open your desk drawer to retrieve the small, neatly wrapped gift you had tucked away a week ago.

The girl looked up at you, curious, setting the magazine aside as you extended the gift toward her. Her wide eyes sparkled with surprise and excitement. Just as she reached for it, the door opened. “Morning,” you greeted automatically, your tone warm as Seok-woo stepped inside. His expression was a mix of relief and mild irritation, likely from rushing to drop off an urgent client file before picking Su-an up. “Morning, [Name]. I hope she wasn’t too much trouble,” he said, his voice carrying that clipped efficiency you’d come to know.

His gaze shifted to the box in Su-an’s hands, his eyebrows raising slightly. “You got her a gift?” “Of course,” you replied with a small laugh, brushing off the question as though it were nothing. “She’s been a sweetheart, as always. You know I don’t mind having her around. Though…” You glanced at Su-an with a teasing grin. “I’m not sure she’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it!” Su-an piped up, her small voice full of determination as she started tugging at the ribbon. You shared a smile with her father as you both watched her carefully unwrap the present, revealing a set of colored pencils and a thick sketchbook.

The reaction was immediate, and a bit expected. “Oh my gosh! It’s perfect!” she exclaimed, holding it up like a treasure. “Thank you so much!” “She’s been doodling on all my reports lately,” Seok-woo muttered under his breath, though there was no real bite in his words. You caught the faint twitch of a smile tugging at his lips. “She’s creative,” you quipped, ignoring the smirk he gave you. “Now she has her own space for it.”

Before Su-an could dive into her new gift, Seok-woo glanced at his watch. “We should get going. Her mother wants her by tonight. Something about her recital.” His tone was carefully neutral, but the slight stiffness in his posture was hard to miss.

Su-an’s excitement visibly faded. She clutched the sketchbook close to her chest but didn’t argue. The silence was heavy, but you stepped in, as you always did. “Su-an,” you said softly, crouching to her level, “don’t forget to fill at least one page before you leave, okay? I want to see what you create next time.” Her lips quirked into a small smile, and she nodded. “Okay. I promise.”

Seok-woo offered a brief but genuine “Thank you” as they left your office. You watched them go, a pang in your chest you couldn’t quite ignore. You couldn’t help but worry about both of them—how fractured their lives had become and how much weight they carried in silence.

That evening, everything changed.

It started as a last-minute phone call. Seok-woo, his voice uncharacteristically urgent, asked if you could meet them at the station. “Su-an wants to take the early train to Busan,” he explained hurriedly. “Her mom’s there, and I promised I’d get her there by morning but I forgot..” You tuned out the rest of what he said, answering with no hesitation in your response. “Of course. I’ll be there.”

You arrived at the station with a bag of snacks and supplies, something told you they might need it. When you spotted Seok-woo and Su-an on the crowded platform, you waved, smiling as Su-an ran to greet you. “Are you coming with us?” she asked hopefully, clutching your hand. Seok-woo frowned slightly but didn’t protest. “It might actually be good to have you along,” he admitted after a pause. “Just in case.”

You didn’t realize how ominous those words would soon feel.

Everything spiralled into chaos, news of an outbreak causing great panic all over Korea. You were lucky enough to get away from every danger you were faced with, always having Su-an’s safety on your mind before anything else.

In a state of panic and overwhelming emotions you couldn’t quite control, you pulled Seok-woo into a hug, almost seeming desperate as you clung to him like a lost child; however to your surprise, he returned the hug with just as much desperation. Something inside you instantly clicked as you pulled him away from the little group you’ve gathered over the many carts full of infected monsters; a pregnant lady and her husband.. their names being Seong-kyeong and Sang-hwa, at least you think.

Seok-woo looked at you with confusion as you took a deep breath, your hands shaking with nervousness and especially adrenaline. “Seok-woo, I know you absolutely do not want to hear this right now but in case we don’t get o—“ He glared at you and gripped your shoulders. “There is no ‘not getting out of here’ [Name], I will get you and Su-an off this train no matter what.” Your breath was shaky, tears threatening to spill as the days events sink in. “No, Seok-woo listen to me. If we— if I don’t get out, I want to let you know that I love you. You and Su-an. Please stay— stay safe for me okay? And make sure to tell Su-an to kill that recital.” You say between sobs, Seok-woo already pulling you into a tight embrace, shushing you. “I’ll get us out.” was the only thing he said before he went back to his daughter who was patiently waiting for you all to make a move.

You felt your heart ache as your words and confession was left unheard; the three simple words slipping from your tongue and left unnoticed by the man who has had your heart in a headlock for what seemed like all eternity, but of course, love could wait— survival can’t.

The silence in the next car was suffocating. Seong-kyeong sat in a corner, her face buried in her hands as she quietly sobbed. Su-an clung to you, her small hands gripping your sleeve as if she found your embrace as some sort of escape from this absolute nightmare. Seok-woo stood near the window, staring out at the chaos with a blank expression.

But you couldn’t focus on him. Your own thoughts were spiraling. The burn in your side was impossible to ignore now. At first, you thought it was just exhaustion, maybe a bruise from the earlier bumping into seats and doors—but when you finally glanced down, your blood ran cold.

The tear in your shirt revealed jagged teeth marks. Red blossomed around the wound, dark and unmistakable. You’d been bitten. Your breath hitched, your chest tightening as you quickly covered the mark. You looked around, panic rising, but no one had noticed yet. Not Seok-woo, not Su-an.

“[Name]?” Su-an’s soft voice pulled you back. She was staring up at you with wide, tear-filled eyes. “You’re shaking. Are you okay?” You forced a smile, kneeling to her level. “I’m fine, sweetheart,” you lied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Just tired, that’s all.”

Seok-woo turned at her voice, his gaze narrowing as he studied you. You could tell he sensed something was wrong, but before he could speak, the train lurched violently, sending everyone stumbling. You held Su-an’s head close to your chest, trying your best to shield her as the train started to slow down.

“Attention please. Due to blockage on our track we’ve stopped at East Daegu station. We either wait for the rescue team or go to Busan by a different train. I’ll go and find a working train, if you’re alive.. please transfer safely. Godspeed.”

That was all you heard from the train operator before it went silent; only the awful sound of hissing and gurgling coming from the other cars. Your head felt heavy, and with every step you took your legs started getting heavier and heavier, sweat dripping down your neck. Everyone managed to get out, however you stopped in your tracks as you felt a sharp pain shoot through your side and body. “[Name]..” Su-an called out with worry as she stepped back into the car even after your protests. “[Name] come on, we need to go to the east track like they told us. We can’t loose time.” Seok-woo said, his tone rough yet laced with worry. You smiled with tears streaming down your face, your hands shakily taking off your ring that you got yourself not long after your first ever pay check at the company.

“I think this is my stop, yeah?” You hiccupped, caressing the little girls cheek with nothing but love. “Hold onto this for me yeah?” You placed the ring into her smaller hands, closing her palm and kissing it gently. You turned your gaze to Seok-woo who looked terrified, kneeling next to you and shoving your hand that was clutching your side away, revealing those disgusting teeth marks. “Shit. No, no… no. [Name] you— Why didn’t you say anything? I told you to stay close to me, why, why didn’t you—“ You put a finger against his lips, smiling. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. I’m just going on a little trip, okay? Promise me you’ll get to Busan safely. That you will go to that recital and that you—“ You shook violently, a painful groan echoing through the car. “Seok-woo. I love you, I love you and Su-an so much.” You smiled weekly before backing away from them, stumbling towards an empty cart which you then closed.

Su-an pressed her hand against the class, screaming your name with tears flowing down her face, while all you could do while your mind was still somewhat conscious was look at her, pressing your forehead against the glass. “I love you Su-an.”

That was the last words they heard before they rushed out the car and your mind got twisted into a flesh eating monster.

— 3 years later

A memorial was held for all the people who were lost during the breakout, bodies never being collected; only burned to get rid of every trace those events had left. The memorial was held in Busan on the Haeundae beach where thousands gathered to try and put their resting loved ones to peace.

"We’ve come here to remember those we’ve lost and honor the lives they lived. Though some of us come here to remember, some might want nothing more than to forget. The world has changed, and the scars left by all we’ve suffered remain, but we gather in the hope that together, we can begin to heal.

Let us find strength in their memory and courage in one another as we face what lies ahead, carrying their legacy forward in the world we rebuild."

A roar of cheers and applause filled the area as everyone spread across the beach, lanterns in hand, ready to release them into the sky. Each glowing light was a symbol—a guide for lost souls to find their way to a better, pain-free afterlife.

Su-an clutched her father’s hand tightly. The scar left on her young heart that day was still fresh, though it was slowly healing with time. Seok-woo, however, had never truly moved on from your loss. Your office remained untouched, never given to anyone else, despite countless suggestions from others after his company started up again. It was your place, and no one else’s. Su-an still visited occasionally, sitting there to draw and talk to you—or perhaps to herself.

“Hold this for me, please,” Seok-woo said gently, handing the lantern to his daughter. He lit it carefully, just as many others around them were doing, their lanterns already rising into the dark sky. Together, they held the lantern—Su-an on one side and Seok-woo on the other. With a nod of silent agreement, they released it, watching as it drifted upward to join the hundreds of others.

Seok-woo knelt down beside his daughter, pulling her into his side as she sobbed against his shoulder. He rubbed his hands up and down her arm, trying to comfort her, though his own heart ached just as much. A small silver chain was around his neck, a ring on it like a sort of charm; the same ring you always wore until that day. He couldn’t deny the weight of his regrets. The regret of not saying goodbye. The regret of not saving you. The regret of failing to protect you.

But worst of all…

That he never said I love you back.

© URFAVLARRY

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE OR COPY ANY OF MY WRITING TO OTHER PLATFORMS

I DON’T CONSENT FOR MY WRITING TO BE USED TO TRAIN AI 🚫

[cupidssorbet]

"Over the desk."

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Boss!Miguel O'Hara x Assistant reader.

Characters included: Miguel O'Hara.

Summary: Your boss has begun to notice the way you stare and the certain things you do when he's around and he's decided to help you out a bit.

⋆₊˚⊹♡ Note: This is inspired by Badjur's assistant audio! :) Also I apologize for this taking FAR LONGER than I meant it too!

Content/Includes: JOI(Jerk off instructions), Jerking off over the phone, Mutual Masturbation, Guided Masturbation, Exhibitionism, Tit worship, Overall body worship,

Enjoy! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ ✧ and a big thank you for sticking around while I was away!! I plan to write some gravity falls stuff soon to do with everyone’s favorite grunkles since I’ve recently played the dating sim AND have also recently rewatched arcane as well as the S2 eps (again) and plan to write for that too!

You’d been working for Miguel O’Hara for almost 4 years now, in all those 4 years you’d never been more affected and bothered by a person quite like the way your own BOSS got to you. You could never put your finger on it though, Miguel usually kept to himself and often didn't try to smile or go out of his way like others might have but there was something about him...was it his eyes? his hair? his face? his voice? You just couldn't name it and it was getting to you.

Time when he'd lean over your shoulder, his chest against your back while he looks over the schedule you've prepared, it had your heart beating, your thighs rubbing together just slightly on instinct and your mind running. You prayed every time in hopes that your cheeks weren't cherry red with the way you thought you were burning up inside and out.

However it all came stock piling one day when you noticed he was acting a bit off, towards the middle of the day, then the sound of shoes clicking against the floor until he comes around.

"Call off my meetings for today alright? Just tell'em I've got business to take care of." Miguel states as he flicks through the pages in his hands.

Your surprised by it, caught of guard really, but you agree, "Yes of course I can do that." You nodded turning in your chair, "Thank you, If any of them give you shit for it just tell them I asked for it directly and they can wait." He nods, "I do not want to be disturbed at all." he insists before heading to his office and shutting the door behind him with a 'Click!'

While your clearing his schedule and putting up a little 'do not disturb' on the office door and shutting it, you hear a noise? like a beep then--

You look and the little red light for the intercom on the phone was blinking, before you could open your mouth to say something, "Where would you be without her O'hara." You hear Miguel exhale slightly as he takes a seat in his chair, you want to speak up but he only continues, "Always so diligent, willing to do anything for you.." He trails off, "And so damn beautiful, that fucking body, the things I would do." Miguel groaned out over the line, your face, your sure by now is a tomato, then the sound of a belt coming undone, "I can finally unwind and let off some of this tension." Then a slight groan and 'Oh fuck..' followed.

The only other noise you could make out that had your face heating up was the sound of his hand pumping his cock slowly.."How long was I going to have to wait in that meeting." His chair creaks as he leans back, "Fucking dammit..images of her bent over this desk..couldn't get rid of them." the sound of his pumping speeds up, butterflies erupt in your stomach and heat pools between your legs. "Too damn perfect, that perfect little skirt riding up, on her perfect little body.." there's a slight pant to Miguel's voice, "My perfect little assistant." The sounds of him pumping his cock pick up even more, your thighs squeeze together instinctively.

"God, your so eager to always fill everyone of my requests," when he goes from 'her' to 'you' as if being direct it makes you jump slight, "Wonder how she'd feel if she knew how hard she got me, if she knew that I knew exactly why she stay's after hours, how she'd feel if I knew why she comes to my office so often.." His words trail off.

Your heart is thumping, "I wonder how she would feel that I know she can hear me over the intercome, Right now." Miguel huffs out, you jump, "Me?" You squeak out slightly, "Yes you, your enjoying this aren't you?" there's a slight teasing lilt to his voice as he asks.

"I didn't know--" "Come on, in all the years you have worked with me, worked for me, when have I ever been that careless?" He asked, your quiet, "No, you know me, I'm careful, calculated." There's a gruff, yet needy undertone. "You've been enjoying listening to me stroke this thick, fat cock huh? Sitting there behind your desk, thighs pressed together, am I wrong?" He asked.

You feel your cheeks grow hotter, your thighs press tighter, he's got you read like a book. "I'm extremely thorough and careful with everything I do and..everyone I do." He practically enunciates the last few words and it sends a slight shiver. 'God' he murmurs, the sound of him fisting his cock growing a bit slow paced as he talks, "I'll be honest, I've been watching the way you act and dress a bit more closer than I ever have-- Fuck," He groans out followed by a few other curses.

"God..If only you could see the precum dripping from this fat tip huh?" Miguel out right teases, enjoying the way he can hear you shifting in your chair, "I'm not displeased with your work, not by a long shot, quite impressed, but..I notice the way your thighs clench together when I lean on the wall beside you or when I place these big hands on your desk, wouldn't you love them holding those thighs open.." He trails off and you can't help but shudder.

He's reveling in this with his heavy breathes and curses as he rubs his cock, "I can see the way your breath picks up when I lean over you, and those wandering eyes..Shit.." He breathes out, "I've noticed the way they seem to travel down when I wear these pants, the way they stare a bit longer..gave me a reason to wear them more often." His pumping picks up, you swallow audibly, "The way you can't help but stare at the imprint of my cock, not even hard and yet you keep an eye on this package hm?" His teasing tone despite him sounding breathless is just so audible.

"But I'm not the only one who's been wearing something often, you've noticed my looks with those short pencil skirts you've been wearing.." Your shifting side to side when he says that, heat pooling, "But tell me, is that skirt still nice and snug around those beautiful thighs or have you hiked it up to make room for these beautiful hands between those thighs?" You couldn’t even think and get the words out. He just chuckled into the other line. “Go on hike the skirt nice and high for me..” Miguel’s voice was low and husky.

You swallow thickly before bringing your skirt hem up and up..”Now move those pretty panties aside.” His voice rings through the receiver, your heart is racing as she move them aside, you practically exhale which earns a chuckle from him. “Getting excited are we? We’re barely even there.” He teases.

“Now, listen carefully hm? Part your soft thighs and pull those panties aside..” he instructed and you followed, “Now rub that sweet little clit of yours.” That was more of an order than an instruction that there wasn’t any hesitation on your end because you went right to it.

The thought, not the *knowledge* that your boss could hear you and was actively guiding you, had you gasping and panting as quietly as you could within in seconds, your fingers working your clit in tight circles, lost in your own little world..meanwhile, Miguel was reveling in this, it had him throbbing and aching hearing all the pretty little noises that were coming from you..

His free hand instinctively working his cock in time, “Listen to yourself…Buen dios…Such pretty sounds they are.” Miguel praised and god it got you so damn good. “Fuck I—-I just..” you gasped, it was making his resolve crack, he wanted to tease and mess with you to the point of where you needed it just as bad as he did.

“Go on, slide those fingers in, come on.” He urged, his voice smooth yet deep, it always sent shivers down your spine. You bit your lip, your hands slowly sliding down further, your middle finger first then your ring finger followed, starting a slow rhythm, in..out..the wet sounds that reached your ears were loud to you because of the way your heart had been filling the quietness with it’s beating in your ears but the noise that replaced it would’ve made you blush if you hadn’t already been.

Then, within a couple minutes, you noticed how quiet Miguel had become and thought maybe he’d been put off and then you really listened, quiet grunts & groans reached your ears through the receiver. The soft ‘schlick’ of him pumping his cock felt so loud even if it really wasn’t.

“I can tell your listening, those pants and moans stopped, tell me do you like what you hear?” He asked with a chuckle , low and breathless. “God of course I do,” you practically whined. Miguel clicked his tongue, “Impatient huh?” He teased you again, “At this point yes I am, and it’s becoming unbearable, my fingers aren’t enough!” You huffed exasperated, then all you heard was quiet.

“Mr. O’Hara?” You asked, “Miguel?” Your tone became curious but also worried before the sound of shoes on the flooring echoed and they were fast steps. Approaching your office fast, the gait, the weight of it, added up into your mind as Miguel. Then the door swung open and your assumption was correct. “Not enough? Well let me assist with that.” Miguel’s words came out gruffer than really intended.

You swallowed thickly softly as you removed your fingers, nodding as he approached you, “Look at you, fucking delicious,” he reached down and took your fingers, bringing them to his lips, before taking them in his mouth, a shudder running down your spine.

Then he pulled them out, licking his lips and leaning in..

“Let me satisfy you today.”

PT 1.

[mylovesstuffs]

After Hours - Jeon Wonwoo

Synopsis: What begins as a quiet evening of work escalates once again into a heated encounter that blurs the lines with your coworker. Too used to this but will it ever be something more than a casual play?

Genre: Romance, erotica, office au, dominant/submissive, power dynamics, coworkers with benefits. little bit of angst if you squint and mutual pining

Pairing: Wonwoo × fem!reader

Word count: 3522 words

Warnings: Contains smut MDNI!, no protection mentioned (please be safe y'all), explicit sexual content, BDSM themes (power play, dominance/submissiveness), explicit language, non-consensual themes (light) not proofread

The office was empty, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning and the soft glow of desk lamps scattered around the open floor. You sat at your desk, hunched over your MacBook, fingers flying across the keyboard as you tried to meet a looming deadline.

"Still here?" The low voice startled you. You looked up to find Wonwoo standing near the doorway, his tie slightly loosened, and the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled up to his elbows. He looked impossibly good, his dark brown eyes met yours, and you felt that familiar twist in your stomach.

"Deadline," you muttered, gesturing vaguely at your screen, "What about you? Thought you'd left hours ago."

He shrugged, stepping closer until he leaned against the edge of your desk. "Couldn't leave knowing you were still here. Thought you might need company."

The way he looked at your face, you couldn’t help but think about it again—the thing you tried not to dwell on too much. Why him? Or rather, why you? Wonwoo was the kind of guy who could walk into a room and have people eating out of the palm of his hand without even trying. Women drooled; men envied. He could have anyone exclusively, probably someone more polished, more glamorous. Someone who didn’t forget their lunch at home three days a week or spend weekends rewatching the same Netflix shows.

So why this? Why you? Why do your occasional late-night encounters blurred the lines between colleagues and something...more? It didn’t make sense to you.

And yet, here you were.

At first, you’d kept it casual—just two adults scratching an itch. You didn’t ask too many questions, didn’t expect anything beyond the arrangement you had going on. But you weren’t stupid. You knew you’d fallen for him somewhere along the way. Maybe it was the way he kissed you, like he wasn’t just after the moment but after you. Or the way he remembered the smallest details—how you liked your coffee, the way you bit your lip when you were stressed. It wasn’t just sex, though that certainly didn’t hurt.

It was how he made you feel, like every inch of you was worth his time and attention. How he touched you like your body was something to be cherished, not just used. He was warm, attentive, and so damn caring in a way that was completely unexpected for someone who usually kept people at arm’s length.

And then there were the moments that caught you off guard—the way he’d adjust your blanket when you dozed off on the couch, or the time he brought you soup when you were too sick to function. Those were the moments that stayed with you, no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself this was just a casual thing.

But of course, you still had your doubts. You’d think, Why the hell does someone like him want anything to do with someone like me? Then he’d show up at your door with, kiss you like you were the only person in the world, and you’d think, Maybe I’m overthinking this.

You snorted softly to his response. "And what if I don't?"

His lips curved into a small smile. "Then I'll stay anyway."

There it was again—that warmth, that care. Whatever these coworkers with benefits thing was, whatever it meant, you weren’t sure you’d ever figure it out. But for now, you’d let yourself get lost in him just a little longer. The room felt smaller with him this close, his subtle cologne blending with the faint scent of coffee lingering from earlier. His gaze flicked to the papers scattered across your desk.

"You work too hard," he murmured, his voice dipping.

"I could say the same about you," you shot back, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened when his fingers brushed yours as he picked up a pen.

Silence stretched between you, heavy and charged. Wonwoo tilted his head, his dark eyes scanning your face as though searching for something. "You should take a break," he said, he is quieter now.

"And do what?"

His answer came not in words but in action. His hand cupped your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle. Before you could react, his lips were on yours, soft and unhurried. The kiss deepened, his hand sliding to your waist, pulling you to your feet. The edge of the desk pressed against your thighs as he nudged you closer, his other hand tangling in your hair.

"Wonwoo," you breathed against his lips, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

"Let me take care of you," he whispered, his voice rough with need.

His lips trailed down your jaw, to the sensitive spot just below your ear. You tilted your head, giving him access, a soft moan escaping your lips as his teeth grazed your skin.

"Here?" you asked, a mix of nerves and excitement in your voice.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his smirk laced with mischief. "Here."

His hands found the hem of your blouse, slipping beneath to caress the bare skin of your waist and then your breasts over your bra. The fabric pooled at your feet, followed quickly by your skirt. His lips never left yours, his touch exploring, claiming.

Wonwoo lifted you onto the desk effortlessly, his own shirt discarded in the process. The cool surface contrasted sharply with the heat of his body as he settled between your thighs, his kisses growing more urgent.

When his fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear, you couldn't stop the gasp that escaped you. His touch was firm yet teasing, drawing sounds from you that you didn't think you were capable of making.

"Wonwoo, please," you whimpered, your hands gripping his forearms as he worked you over with a precision that left you trembling.

You inhaled sharply as his fingers tugged at the lace, pausing to look into his eyes. He held your gaze, his eyes filled with an intent. As the lace slid down your thighs, he whispered, "Lift your legs." You wrapped your legs around his waist and lifted as he asked, his voice low and commanding. "Arms up." You complied, arching your back slightly as he slowly removed the flimsy barrier between you. He tossed it aside, his eyes locked onto yours as he spread your legs wider.

Now that you're fully naked, he pulled you more closer, his eyes blazing that made you feel utterly exposed yet adored. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice low and dripping with reverence. His hands traced the curve of your nude waist and breasts, his gaze following every inch of your body as though committing it to memory. "So perfect... you don't even realize, do you?"

The room was filled with the sound of your shallow breaths as he hovered above you this time laying you down on the desk, his touch sending shivers down your spine. His lips trailed over your breasts to collarbone, hot and deliberate, as he whispered into your ear, "You're going to be good for me, aren't you?"

You nodded, your words failing as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot below your ear. "That's right," he said, smirking against your skin. "I don't want a sound unless I ask for it. Understand?"

His hands slid lower to your vagina, teasing the edge of your patience, deliberately brushing but not giving you what you craved. Your whimper earned a dark chuckle. "Already desperate, are we?" His fingers grazed the most delicate part of the entrance, his touch featherlight feeling you're already being wet for him. "I don't think you've earned it yet"

His fingers trailed through your folds, gathering your wetness before circling your entrance again. You bit your lip, trying to hold back a whimper as he teased you. Suddenly, he thrust two fingers inside you, his palm pressing against your clit. "Look at me," he commanded, his voice strained with desire. You complied again.

His fingers moved skillfully, hitting just your clit back and forth. Your breath hitched, eyes hazy with pleasure. "Wonwoo..." you gasped trying to not make a sound, fingers digging into his shoulders for support.

He pressed closer, his lips tracing your neck while maintaining that steady rhythm. "What do you need?" as he cups one of your breasts. You could feel his hardness pressing against your thigh, his breathing becoming more ragged "Tell me what you want," he groaned softly against your neck, teeth grazing your skin "Do you want me to..." his fingers curved deeper, hitting just the G-spot "Should I keep going?"

"Yes, please," you managed to respond.

"You want me to actually fuck you now?" He asked, voice low and husky, his breath hot against your ear. His fingers continued their relentless pace, driving you closer to the edge. He nipped at your earlobe, pinched your nipple, his other hand gripping your ass. You nodded.

But he didn't give you what you wanted yet. He edged you mercilessly, his movements calculated to pull you to the brink, only to deny you the release you desperately sought.

"That's it, take it," he murmured, his tone shifting. "Pathetic how you fall apart so easily under my hands. You love this, don't you?" Your body trembled beneath him as he leaned closer, "Say it," he growled, his voice rough and commanding. "Tell me who you belong to."

"Y-you," you stammered, barely able to form coherent thoughts.

The office faded away-the desk, the papers, the deadlines. There was only Wonwoo, his breath hot against your skin, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

"That's right," he said, his touch finally intensifying, sending shockwaves through your body. "And you'll come when I let you, not a second before." Just as he said that, his name left your lips in a broken moan as he finally pushed you over the edge, your release shattering you as he held you firmly in place.

He glared down at you, his fingers still buried inside, trembling your pussy. "You fucking disobedient little cunt," he spat, his voice cold with anger. "I told you not to come until I said so, and you just couldn't fucking wait, could you?" Wonwoo's hand tightened on your thigh, keeping you pinned on the desk as he leaned in closer. "You think you can just take what you want without earning it?" he growled, his fingers curling inside you, making your legs tremble anew.

He withdrew his fingers slowly, deliberately, leaving you feeling empty as a punishment. His hand moved to grip your chin, tilting your face up so your eyes met his. "If you want to be treated like a good girl, you better start acting like one," he hissed, his gaze cold but laced with the faintest hint of hunger.

With a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, he leaned back, undoing his belt with maddening slowness. "I should leave you like this," he mused, dragging the leather through the loops. "Desperate, dripping, and begging for me. But I'm not that cruel."

He kicked a nearby chair back and sat down, gesturing with two fingers for you to kneel in front of him. "Now, get down here and make it up to me," he commanded, his voice calm but brooking no argument. "If you're good enough, maybe I'll consider giving you what you so clearly can't stop thinking about."

You swallowed hard, your body trembling as you slid off to the floor and sank to your knees in front of him. His eyes followed your every movement, dominating you.

"That's it," he murmured, his voice low and smooth as he leaned back, spreading his legs wider. "Show me just how sorry you are."

Your hands moved to his pant, and with a shaky exhale, you pulled them down along with his boxers, revealing his hard cock. No matter how many more times you've seen his hard cock before, the sight made your cheeks flush, but you were too far gone to feel embarrassment.

Wrapping your fingers around his cock, you glanced up through your lashes for approval. He nodded, his hand resting lazily on the arm of the chair. "Don't tease," he warned.

You leaned forward, your lips parting as you took his dick into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip. A low groan escaped him, his hips shifting slightly as he buried a hand in your hair, guiding your movements.

"Good girl," he muttered, his grip tightening just enough to remind you who was still in control. "Now, don't stop until I say so."

You obeyed, your pace steady and deliberate, taking him deeper with each motion. His groans grew louder, his control slipping as you worked him over with desperation. Suddenly, he tugged on your hair, pulling you off of him. You gasped, your lips swollen and glistening as you looked up at him, confused and needy.

"Not so fast," he said with lust. "You don't get to decide when this ends. Get back on the desk."

You scrambled to obey, your body trembling as you climbed back onto the desk and laid back, spreading your legs for him. His smirk returned as he stood, positioning himself between your thighs.

"Now, you'll learn to follow my rules," he growled, gripping your hips as he thrust into you without warning, his movements rough and demanding.

The desk creaked beneath you, your cries filling the room as he took you with relentless precision. He leaned over you, groping your breasts hard, "Shut the fuck up," he growled, his hand tangling in your hair as he drove you closer to the edge.

Your fingernails dragged down his back as you arched into him, whimpering, "You feel so... good," you managed to gasp out, legs wrapping tighter around him, urging him deeper.

"You're just a fucking tight little cunt, aren't you?" He spat, his voice dripping with contempt as he pulled out and slammed back in, making her scream. "You love being stuffed full of my dick, don't you? You love being used like a cheap fucktoy."

When he finally let you come, his name tore from your lips like a prayer, your body trembling beneath him. He followed moments later, his grip on you tightening as he buried himself deep inside, groaning your name. "Stay with me," he whispered, his voice breaking as he reached his own release, his forehead pressed against yours.

And for the first time that night, you forgot about work.

You'd always known Wonwoo was reserved, composed. But just like tonight, every other night— he'd always show you a side of him others would've never seen before, a side that made you wonder what other surprises he was hiding.

Afterward, he pulled you into his arms, his lips brushing softly against your temple. "That's my good girl," he murmured, his voice gentle now. "But don't think I'll let you off so easily next time."

He held you close, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back as your breathing slowed, the tension between you was replaced by a comfortable warmth.

As the haze of passion began to fade, a soft silence settled between you. Wonwoo cradled you against his chest, one hand brushing through your hair in a soothing rhythm. The warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart against your ear lulled you into a nice sense of peace.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his voice a gentle rumble that reverberated through you.

You nodded, nuzzling into him. "Yeah. Just... tired.

His lips pressed against the crown of your head in an affectionate kiss. "I figured. I didn't even go that hard on you"

You just rolled your eyes, too happy to shot bak. He shifted, lifting you effortlessly into his arms despite your half-hearted protests. "Wonwoo, I can walk!"

"Shh,his tone leaving no room for argument. "You've done enough for today. Let me take care of you."

He carried you to the small couch in the corner of the office, sitting you down carefully before draping his discarded shirt over your shoulders. His fingers worked deftly to smooth your hair, his touch tender in a way that made your chest ache. "You rest for a bit," he said, crouching in front of you. His dark eyes softened as they met yours. "I'll clean up."

Before you could protest again, he stood and began gathering your scattered clothes, folding them neatly on the desk. He retrieved a bottle of water from a nearby mini-fridge, twisting the cap off before handing it to you.

"Drink," he commanded gently.

You complied, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat. Watching him move around the room with such quiet efficiency sent a wave of warmth through you. It was a side of him you always saw-nurturing, attentive, and deeply considerate.

Once everything was tidied up, Wonwoo returned to your side, his hands sliding beneath your knees and shoulders. You squeaked in surprise as he lifted you again.

"Wonwoo!"

"You need to clean up properly," he said simply, carrying you to the small restroom attached to the office.

He set you down carefully on the counter, his hands lingering at your waist as if to steady you. Grabbing a clean towel from the cabinet, he wet it under the tap and began gently wiping your face, neck and thighs. His touch was uncharacteristically soft, his movements precise as he took care to ensure your comfort.

"Thank you," you whispered, your cheeks warming under his gaze.

He smiled faintly, something unspoken passing between you. "You don't have to thank me. Just...stop overworking yourself, okay?"

You nodded, the vulnerability in his voice tugging at your heartstrings.

Once you were clean and dressed again, Wonwoo slipped his blazer around your shoulders. "Let's get you home," he said.

The drive was quiet, the soft hum of the engine and the occasional sound of tires gliding over the wet pavement filling the silence between you and Wonwoo. His blazer felt warm and comforting around your shoulders, carrying a faint scent of his cologne-woodsy, with a hint of spice. You found yourself fiddling with the edge of the sleeve absentmindedly, stealing occasional glances at him.

Wonwoo's hands rested firmly on the steering wheel, his gaze focused on the road ahead. The streetlights cast fleeting shadows across his face, highlighting his sharp jawline and the faint crease of concentration on his brow. You wanted to say everything you guys have done so far, but the words seemed to catch in your throat.

"You okay?" he asked softly, breaking the silence without taking his eyes off the road.

You nodded, then realized he couldn't see you. "Yeah. I'm okay. Just the fact that you care even though we're not...exclusive."

He glanced at you briefly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a subtle smile. "I just did what anyone would do."

"No," you said firmly, shifting slightly in your seat to face him. "Not everyone would've. And definitely not the way you did" You stopped for a brief second and then continued, "Nobody would check up on me after meetings, dump all their deadlines on me, and leave me alone after having sex."

He didn't respond immediately but his grip on the steering wheel tightened just a fraction, as if your words had unsettled something within him. After a moment, he sighed quietly. "I couldn't just leave you there."

The weight in his voice surprised you. It made you wonder what he was thinking, what he wasn't saying. You wanted to press further, to ask why he cared so much, but the vulnerability in his tone held you back.

"Thank you, Wonwoo," you said again, more softly this time.

He glanced at you, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than before, as if searching for something in your expression. "You don't need to thank me."

The rest of the drive passed in a companionable silence. When he finally pulled up in front of your building, he turned off the engine and stepped out before you could object. Rounding the car, he opened your door and offered you a hand.

"Can you make it upstairs on your own?" he asked. You hesitated, then nodded.

Wonwoo studied you for a moment, then let out a small sigh. "Alright. But call me if you need anything. I mean it."

You nodded again, clutching his blazer tightly around you. "I will."

As you turned to go, he called out softly, "Wait."

You paused, glancing back at him. He took a hesitant step forward, his hand reaching out as if to stop you, but he quickly pulled it back. "Don't forget the blazer," he said instead, his voice lighter, almost teasing.

You smiled faintly, slipping it off your shoulders and holding it out to him. "Thanks again, Wonwoo."

He accepted it with a small nod, his fingers brushing yours briefly. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," you echoed, stepping inside the building. As the elevator doors closed, you found a text.

Let's stop playing around—just us?

[strawberymilku]

Playing Dangerous

featuring: Police!Leone Abbacchio x Fem!Reader

genres: nsfw!, crimes, mention of: thugs, arson, mafia, car sex, oral sex, blowjob, dirtytalk, one night stand, fingering, doggy style, praises, police theme, corrupt, minor gunplay

a/n: i was rewatching jojo, and ive been wanting to write a police smut with lana del rey lyrics as prompt, and my bf wnted to collab so i just had to write it. not proofread yet. might do part 2 for it. word: 4k, a bit long but it was worth it.

The woman was speeding for sure, but Abbacchio could doubt if she was the witness or the culprit for committing arson, Abbacchio heard the sound of the motorcycle approaching, and he turned to face the direction in which it was coming. It was heading straight in his direction-? He wasn't sure if the person on the bike was who he suspected it to be, but he raised his revolver as the bike came closer..it certainly looked suspicious...

"Why you?!" she yelled, cursing, he was brave enough that he did not care if he died to get her, pulling him on the side of the motorbike, with a swift dash, saving his life as he was at the back of her motorbike. It was the work of the Stand for sure, but sadly the man couldn’t see Stands like that yet but just felt someone lift him on her motorbike. That certainly caught him off guard. Was she just riding directly into him? The situation was unclear...Was she trying to run him over? To escape-? He was surprised at how quickly she acted. He could have been killed if it hadn't been for her, which meant..she couldn't be the arsonist, but she still looked suspicious..and yet she saved his life... Yet her actions are justified yet "Kill me later, what is wrong with you, you would be run across in my wheels," she had a gangly Italian accent, still on the motorbike with huge speed. "Am I getting a ticket for speeding too?" she said sarcastically. He looked at her back where a group of thugs were still chasing over her. Leone had a stunned look on his face. She was certainly lively, and rather..crude. He certainly wasn't expecting that attitude from a potential arsonist, but for some odd reason he didn't feel threatened by her- in fact, he was rather intrigued- she hadn't even noticed his police uniform. After a few moments of stunned silence, he finally replied

"Ah...I'm a police officer. But I can't just let anyone ride at such high speeds..why are you speeding away from people?" "They are after me, whaddya think," she went into different roads taking a lot of turns as the gang lost track of her, after minutes of having the stranger at the back, they stopped in a random alleyway, with a big sigh, she realized it was the cop, not that she’s afraid of him anyways. "It's my job to keep the streets safe and look out for suspicious behaviour- like someone on a motorcycle riding at dangerously high speeds in a residential area."

The suspicious behaviour mentioned included the arson incident at the local gas station that happened not a day ago. Although he didn't outright believe her, he decided to look into her claim. For now, he'd only ask questions to get a grip on the situation.

"May I ask what you were doing around that area where the suspected arson took place?"

"Arson? You think I'd commit arson-" Her lighter got pulled from her pocket, he was daring enough to get that from her leather jacket. "No, please, I'm a smoker," she pulled out her cigarettes to counter his proof. The policeman took a second to think. It would be highly unusual for someone to commit a criminal offense like arson just to cover up smoking. At the same time, he had no evidence proving her guilty yet. He decided to ask another more personal question.*  

"Why were they on your tail to begin with? Do you know why these gang members were after you?" That was a sensitive topic for a mafia’s daughter, no way she could leak her identity out like that. "Yes I do, I have my own reasons, which place was getting burned again?" she tilted her head, as she was demanded to show her license, but she looked reluctant to show it.

 There was still the issue of the gang members after her that he had to inquire about.

"The Shell station at the corner of Via Maddaloni and Via Caracciolo."

"I was at a Hilton Hotel I swear, you can get the evidence," she raised her arms, showing everything from her pocket. Everything seemed suspicious to Abbacchio, no way he could get information out of her mouth like that, so the best way was to flip her body quickly, putting her hands at his back as he slapped the metal handcuffs on her wrists, locking it. He was unsure why he did that but he believed this was the best way. She sighed, "My dad will be killing me if he finds out I’m going to be late,” it was too much for just speeding up in a motorbike.

He couldn’t help but raise a small smirk. Her hands being cuffed behind her back gave him a fair idea of what he could do to her.

"I suppose you aren't very much of a good girl?"

*"Everybody knows that I'm a good girl, officer,"* she replied still with her hands on her back as she was forced to walk back to where his car was. He let out a small laugh. It was rather amusing how easily she was acting so calm over being handcuffed and detained. Even if this incident would end up being a dead end for the arson case, he was still curious. She was just detained for being a suspect, just yet. Things are getting exciting.

"And exactly what is your name, miss?" 

“Y/N,” she grunted still feeling her wrist already from the handcuffs. “Well then Y/N, too bad, you will be a warrant for, ‘reckless driving, running through stop signs, driving at dangerously high speeds, running through red lights- and for suspicion of arson. You have the right to remain silent,” he said in a stern tone, he couldn’t help but smile at her rolling her eyes. *"No, I wouldn't do a thing like that, that's for sure,"* she tried to pout her lips to use a charm on him, thinking he would let her go this time.

Abbacchio's smirk grew wider, as he tried not to laugh at her attempt at seduction.

"I don't think a pout will suffice for an excuse in court."

Her attitude was amusing he thought. Usually, people would be acting aggressively, but she seemed to have accepted the situation quite easily.

"Ah yeah, my dad told me not to talk to the police, because I can demand rights for a lawyer," she tried to rethink again, trying to stay silent as they slowly walked back to his car. She had the attitude of a spoiled teenager, but he couldn't help but be amused. Usually, people would be threatening legal action, not talking about their parents, but she was a different case.

"Your father told you not to talk to the police..? Is he one of those who would try to bribe officers to avoid arrest?"

"Oh really, does he?" she grinned, still using her legs to take sweet sweet time back to the car, it was taking so long than usual just to stall time as much as she could. She was certainly being flirty for someone who had just been arrested.

"If you're expecting me to be charmed you certainly have a poor way of showing it."

Though she certainly was charming..but he'd rather stay professional at the moment. He’s a committed policeman after all. "Am I going to jail for this?" her shoulders slouched at him trying to repeat what she committed as if he were his mom. “Like, *the house is already on fire right, I swear I’m not a liar,*” she added to him to second guess his decisions.

Abbacchio gave her a skeptical look. She definitely wasn't being completely honest. But what she said about the house being on fire definitely seemed more believable than her being the arsonist. It seemed like these gang members came after her for something else. He decided to ask just to confirm his suspicions.

“I’m not asking about the arson crime, I’m asking how are you related to those thugs, it’s very dangerous you know,” he tried to squeeze more questions to get more information out of her.

The girl didn’t reply, it was indeed a chilly night, her lips were quivering from the cold, even if she had the leather jacket on her. “Are you cold?” he asked with concern in his eyes, his hands on her handcuffs, yet pulling her close to him, trying to walk back where he came from.

*“Well, I'm a little shaken, but I'm fine, thanks for asking.”* she smiled at him to look up at him with her eye smile.

"Did you owe them money? Did you have their illegal drugs? What's your ties to these gang members?" "Tell me do you always work so late?" she didn't answer his question, as she had the right not to though. She was very charming, but also very stubborn- he almost found it admirable. Maybe he should've taken her up on her earlier offer of charm. She seemed very confident in her ability to seduce him. It could be the right moment to give in to temptation.

"It's my job to watch the late night shift, what does my work schedule have to do with your involvement with gangs?"

*"Do you really have to put those tight handcuffs on?"* she tried to pull it out but it was not to avail. Still, she didn’t give up yet to flirt with him. Abbacchio gave her a small laugh at the girl, this was the moment for which he was hoping. That is, she was very much starting to flirt with him- so now was the perfect time to reciprocate. 

"Are you sure you're not trying to get me to take the cuffs off?"   

It might just be wishful thinking, but it certainly looked like she was trying to flirt. He was hoping for it anyway, and now she had given him the right opportunity by attempting to pull her cuffs off... But he must stay professional right?

*"Let's get in the back of your cop car, officer?"* she asked a question, still finding ways to flirt with him last minute possible. Finally, they arrived at the car that had printed ‘Polizia’ on it. “Playtime is over, get in the car,” he tried to stay in a demanding tone. The ‘officer’ word did get the man inhaled deeply, oh the things he could do with her right now, as he placed her in the backseat of the car, respectfully, restraining himself from touching her. He’s a good policeman, he couldn’t be doing that. *"You can ask me anything you want, anything, like anything,"* she smiled as he slowly fell for her trap, he decided to sit in the backseat, for a while, closing the car door behind him, and locking it, giving her a dirty smirk. Abbacchio chuckled and shook his head at her flirtatious comments, yet he also realized just how tempting the situation was.

"Anything, hmm?"

He thought for a bit. His mind started to wonder as he looked down at her. She was very appealing.

"What would you do, if I decided to uncuff you- right now?" "I don't know, officer," she looked at his lips then back to him. "You do like purple lipstick, don't you, what is it? Givenchy brand?" she joked, in between, giving a mysterious appeal to the policeman wanting to give in to his desires.

"Good guess. Though I may need more than just your beauty alone to convince me."

"Like what, officer?" she leaned closer towards his neck, it was rather a risqué attempt, she was down to play with fire too, from the looks in his eyes. Leone bit his lip slightly but he still tried to hold back, he wanted to stay professional and focused. But his heart couldn't help but race as she got close. He wondered how this would end...if there was a way he could fall for the trap.

The smell of her perfume hit his nose making it that much harder to focus. He was very tempted. She seemed to have been waiting for him to reply for a minute now. *"Do you have a girl? I don't see a ring on your finger?"* she'd be the one asking questions here instead, how the tables have turned, touching his chest on his police uniform, with her fingertips. This made him raise an eyebrow, the question she had just asked was a little unexpected. Though given he was staring directly at her lips he couldn't deny that he was rather tempted to take it as a sign. But he decided to answer nonetheless.

"I don't have a girlfriend..not at the moment anyway." "*Well that's interesting, have you thought of dating a* **mafia's daughter?**" she replied, dropping the biggest hint of all time, until he realized, no wonder why the gang was after her. He should let her go right? The thought of having her as a girlfriend was still tempting..her attractiveness, her flirtatious attitude, it was too much to ignore.

"Are you offering?" "Maybe I am, offering you a taste?" she leaned closer towards him slowly. It was obvious, that she a tease, still not kissing him, just yet, but their faces were just inches apart. Abbacchio held his breath. Her words were tempting, her attitude was tempting..and her lips were certainly tempting- all she had to do was just close the space between them and they'd be locked in a passionate kiss...

He felt like he might die if he didn't go through with their kiss. He wanted to play her game and play it perfectly. Her words had been tempting since she said them and he could only answer with one answer. 

Abbacchio took in a deep breath and nodded his head. **The flames are getting higher, and so is his desire. It's kind of exciting, don't you think?

"Am I playing a dangerous game, officer?" she teased, still not kissing him, just yet, she wanted to see how far this would go.

The policeman was gritting his teeth in anticipation. It was a dangerous game she was playing, and he knew he shouldn't play it. She was involved with the mafia after all. But the temptation was too much to pass up. He had to do it. The smell of her perfume still lingered, making it much more inviting.

"It's a very dangerous game." 

Abbacchio finally caved in. He knew he couldn't control himself anymore. He closed the distance and pulled her towards him, giving in their passionate kiss. She crashed on her lips softly, melting right down on this gothic policeman, without shame, he was worth a one-night stand, but she didn't really care, their kisses became hotter and hotter each second, he gripped her body, forcing her onto his thighs, looking up at her. Their kiss has started to deepen. His lips brushed against hers as he pulled her even closer. This girl..she was too irresistible. Her flirting and teasing, even the danger of her being involved with the mafia. He just wanted more. She touched his badge and looked up at him. "Abbacchio was it?" she kissed him once more, not enough of his kisses, at this point the purple lipstick has been worn off at this point, some even staining her lips.

"That is my name, yes." "So officer~" the way she said was so enticing, 

"What am I supposed to do now?" she felt his hands roaming all across her body, as if he owned her right here, no tonight, he could do whatever he wanted for tonight. 

"Will I be forgiven for this, officer?" she was like a crime he must commit just for tonight, a sin he wouldn't regret doing, for sure.

"I guess I'll have to figure out how to punish you for this..for now though, I'm sure you don't mind my hands on your body, hmm?"

His smile was quite teasing too and even though he was trying to appear professional, it was clear he was enjoying this quite a lot. He leaned back in and began kissing her again. He gave her a look that told her he was enjoying this as his hands stayed firmly on her hips. “Let’s make this exciting for the both of us,” he pulled out his revolver from his waistband, pointing at her head. He must tried it out at least, he needed to have the upper hand as well. "Officer, I will do anything to repent," her words were dripping as if it was made of honey, she wasn’t even fazed the gun barrel was pointed at her head, biting her lips. Things have gotten out of hand. "You will, will you?" he grinned of mischievous how he liked her under his power.

"How about you tell me what you'd do to repent- and I'll think about it and see if it's enough of a punishment for you." "First, I'd unbuckled that belt of yours and..." her eyes trailed downwards at the seat at the bulge forming in his navy blue pants and up to his golden purple eyes, that would be enough for his imagination to do the rest of the work. “Okay then, get to work, don’t just be an all talk,” he pressed the revolver harder on her skin, geez this man was full of sass, which made her actually take off his pants, obeying his orders, just as he wanted her to. "Oh, please don't shoot me yet, Mr Polizia, I will be good," she unravelled his hard cock from his underwear, palming it between her small hands trying to please him, her handcuffs were still on.

"So you'll be a better girl if I don't shoot you?"

He looked down at her with a teasing and tempting look, she was really quite the girl. This was the most teasing, dangerous girl he had ever come across on the job. “You know your small hands aren’t in good use, use your mouth,” he demanded, pointing the gun directly at her and even though he wasn't gonna shoot, she could clearly see the barrel against her. He looked at her with a teasing grin. She looked so pretty under him, and all the power he had on her. She nodded at his orders, bending down, licking his wet tip for a while, which made him have a satisfying moan, his impulse made him push his right hand on her head, pushing her mouth closely for the blowjob. His breath was shaky already as he felt every part of her mouth on his dick, he felt as if he was on cloud nine, it was all worth it. Worth it from a tiring shift, she was trying to suck him good, she looked like she was an expert at this, feeling his tip pushed against her throat, she was trying to be his only little good girl, a good girl just for Mr Policeman right here. Oh, how he’d wish he could possibly want her every night. Her mouth was starting to tire her, as all her saliva was all around his base, “Abbacchio, sir, are you satisfied yet?” she looked up at him for his mercy, for his approval, for his attention, with those orbs. “Not yet, I wanted to cum on your face,” he pointed the gun at her, demanding to resume her lips to work again. Her head bobbed again and again, trying to please him as much as she could, deepthroating him, her tongue twirling on his length. She liked how much vocal he was, praising her, for her good use of the mouth.

“My god, you weren’t lying when you said you will have your mouth in good use,” that was the best blowjob he received in his life so far, feeling every orgasm trying to rip from his heated skin. After minutes of torturing her throat, he finally gave in, painting on her face with his white liquids, with a satisfied smug face. “Uh, uh, uh, mi amore,” he had a menaced look over her with a tsk, “Who said I was done with you?” for a policeman like him, having stamina could be true. He bent her over, his gun still pointing at her. The time to show who is the monster here, not giving her a break.

“Look here, girl, *if you can't stand the heat. Then stay out of the fire,*” he groped all over breasts, throwing the gun away on the floor of the car. She happened to listen all to his command, like a good little girl, he pulled down her bottom clothing, his fingers trying to play her folds through her underwear, trying to tease her. “Oh, your cunt is wet here, *you might get what you desire*,” he put the underwear aside, rubbing on her clit, trying to gain some moans from her. Things are starting to get interesting. “I’m not putting on anything, yeah, just to warn you,” his cock tried to get between her wet folds, just like that. “I-uh, policia, please don’t you have a condom-” her mouth was shoved with the finger he got her pussy juices on. “Lick it up,” she couldn’t deny such requests from the hot officer, licking it, while he kept pounding her behind her back. Not enough, he needed to feel every wall of her just like that. “I’m going raw, so shut your pretty mouth like that,” He had an enormous speed, gripping her waist, her arms against the tinted glass, the car starting to fog up from the movements, “Listen here, little girl, and listen good,” he raised her body good, her boobs all over the window glass at this point, she screamed more as her G spot has been getting all this abuse from the sudden position.

“Please, please, have mercy on me, officer-” her words were cut as he pushed his fingers in her throat, attempting to shut her mouth. This man is indeed wild, the luckiest night for a girl like her. **”Even if you scream, or beg me to stop, or have mercy, I’m not stopping,”** he rutted inside her cunt as if it was meant to be shaped by his large cock.

“Not until I’m satisfied,” he hummed, using it as if she was a toy she was made just for him to fuck her. Her cries and moans filled the whole street, think to their luck no one was in the streets, a few maybe. Do you this man cares? No? **“Not like you can stop me anyways, hmm?”** he didn’t stop his thrusts, her pussy aching from all the movements, their moans were in unison. She was already tired at this point, getting the slaps on her buttocks, his hand making her chin move just to kiss him as he kept railing behind her back, his lusts and desires being fulfilled by this one girl. “If you keep doing like that, I might-” she panted for air, she needed for a moment there, “I might, cum~” her body squealed in pleasure, holding all her sanity.

It was prolonged sex for sure, he finally had to urge to orgasm, he pulled out in time, cumming all over her body, she really looked pretty as if he was the artist, painting more cum on the belly. “Know your place, just like that,” he looked coldly into her eyes, he didn’t have time for this right? The aftercare was little, he threw her tissues and a bottle of water he had in the car, putting on his clothes, he did let her go this time, unlocking her sore wrists, and going back to his driver seat. 

He did drove her back to her motorbike was at, even opening the door for her to get out, after minutes of silence, he kissed her forehead softly, like a gentleman would, before he finally let her go. But one thing for sure is that it was one of the best nights he’d ever had with a girl. A sucker for romance, *lovin’ a hurricane*

part 2?

[crumb]

do you think when sheppard was lying on the ground coughing on his own blood and randy was yelling "benson! benson!" trying to convince him to stop, do you think sheppard finally realized who was beating the shit out of him? Like yeah it could be argued that sheppard's face dropping while talking with benson in the office might be an indication of him recognizing benson—but I'm not so sure. if sheppard did what we, or most of us, think he did to benson, then statistically benson was not the only victim. so sheppard's face dropping in the office might've been less from recognition and more from just a general sense of dread of "my time's up" like his past actions may have finally caught up with him. and then benson sweeping it away allowed him to leave the building with some relief that he hadn't been discovered yet. but then after being attacked by benson, he surely knew what the beating was for, but maybe not by whom. But randy saying benson's name over and over might've been the only way sheppard knew who was, ultimately, beating him to death. In a sick way, that almost feels like a gift randy was able to give benson. if i was given the opportunity to beat the shit out of my abusers I'd want them to know who was doing it. randy trying to hold benson back and divert his focus because he would risk alerting people if he shot sheppard, and to get benson to not take another life lol—he unintentionally let sheppard know who was killing him.

Also wild, I was rewatching that scene for the millionth time and only just noticed that benson fucking spits on sheppard before finally walking away. Another great detail to emphasize the utter disgust benson has for sheppard.

[philtstone]

24. Showing up injured at their friend/mentor’s house: for shawn? :)

[emerges from writing this fic bloody and beaten and on the verge of collapse] ill explore karen vicks character in an overly complicated post-episode missing scene fic or die trying! set immediately post "right turn or left for dead". i genuinely dont know if im happy with this but i also cant figure out how to fix it. actually, it would have probably been easier to write if i was willing to rewatch the episodes its based on. which i am not, because i am a sensitive little soul. so i winged it. i think there are like 10 different ideas that crop up and theyre all equally fascinating as character threads but i have no idea if i tied them together in an even remotely coherent way. also, WOULD she say that??? i had to call my brother twice to ask. this is what yall get for sending me actually interesting prompts, huh

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Henry’s voice said on the phone. “I’ll send Shawn over with them on his way out. He's going in your direction, anyway.”

In her short tenure as the junior detective to Henry Spencer’s lieutenant, Karen Vick observed two things:

First, that he was a far more clever strategist than most people gave him credit for. Despite the ongoing wreckage of his impending divorce and a kid who was slipping through his fingers as everyone looked on, Karen didn’t agree with the other junior detectives’ impression of him as a smash-the-door-down old school hard ass with thinning hair and a worst attitude. The man played four dimensional chess right out of a bonafide Star Trek episode. When he really wanted something done, Henry Spencer could bullshit and bluff and battle plan with the pros, and half the time you’d get too caught up in the blustering misdirect to realize his game was intricately thought out three steps in advance.

It was how they caught the Shorttown Killer, and also how they got that idiot Trembley at the mayor’s office to finally replace their coffee maker. Karen went home to her then-boyfriend, now-husband, and, right before bed, pulled out an old school workbook and took notes.

The second thing was that Henry Spencer loved his son. 

Not a lot has changed since then, Karen thinks, staring down the weirdness that she now faces through her open front door.

“… Oh — Mr. Spencer,” Karen says, because it’s rude not to greet your employees when they show up at your home outside of work hours, and are also your old friend-slash-colleague’s kid. “Hello. Thanks for — bringing these over.”

“Dad said it was urgent,” Shawn says.

Urgent isn’t quite how Karen would describe it, but hearing through the grapevine that your department might be facing an audit sometime in the next quarter does light a fire under the proverbial ass. Karen would rather bend a few rules and make sure the last year’s i’s and t’s are dotted and crossed right than leave her detectives vulnerable to the whims of a mayoral stooge. 

In general, Karen prides herself on caring about the people under her command just enough that it inspires genuine friendship and loyalty. The just is important. Care needs tempering – it’s important to pull back, press pause, keep certain lines uncrossed. It’s especially important if you want to be successful as a woman in an authority position where lives are often on the line. 

What she’s saying is that she tries to make it none of her business what her employees get up to in their spare time. She really genuinely does. She’s shut O’Hara down gently midway through the twelfth sweetly-frazzled attempt to overshare about her dating life (or her efforts to befriend her next-door neighbor, or the endearing personality quirks of her last cat – rest in peace, Triscuit, you will be missed –) enough times to be well-versed in the art of I Won’t Ask, You Won’t Tell, But You’ll Probably Know I Care Anyway.

An invaluable rapport to maintain. In any situation, Karen thinks, but especially when you’re a person who regularly hires and works alongside Shawn Spencer.

She’s not sure whether what she’s looking at right now makes her want to second guess or double down on her usual policy. 

“Special delivery,” Shawn adds, like everything is super normal.

Karen narrows her eyes. She glances behind them into the quiet residential street.

“Shawn,” she says.

“Yes, Chief?”

“You didn’t drive here, did you?”

“Ha,” he says, half rolling his eyes to accompany a weird aborted grin. “No. Even I don’t think riding a motorcycle with a concussion is a good idea. What if someone who wasn’t me got hurt? That’s — that would be no good, then you’d have to arrest me. Wouldn’t that be a huge bummer for the whole team, Chief? Gus would cry. And my dad wouldn’t let me take his truck.”

Karen stares at him. Shawn stares at the ground.

“I got a cab,” he says.

“And you are … taking another cab – home?”

Shawn looks quite suddenly like he’s going to be sick.

“Sure,” he says. 

Shawn looks terrible. Bruised face, bags under his eyes, and a weird frenetic energy twitching in his limbs that doesn’t pair well with his general air of exhaustion. He’s holding his shoulders stiffly and can barely meet her eye. His t-shirt and sweatpants are rumpled, like he slept in them, even though it’s too early in the evening for Henry to have woken him up to send him here, and when he thrusts the promised files out into the air toward her, abrupt and, admittedly, Shawn-like, he only just hides the awkward wince that immediately overtakes his left side.

The last couple days have been a bit of a whirlwind, so Karen can’t say she necessarily blames herself for not looking more closely. 

Even so.

Slowly, Karen reaches forward and divests him of the case files. They slip a little bit, because Karen can’t seem to stop peering shrewdly at Shawn’s face while she does it, and on instinct he reaches forward to stop the stack from toppling. 

It does help, but the autopilot he moves on makes it harder to mask what is to Karen’s eyes a very obvious flinch. 

“Alright,” is all he says. “Well, good to see you. Time to head back to the old hay stack.”

Like a needle in a haystack and time to hit the hay, Karen supplies needlessly in her own head. Aloud, she says, in many ways against her better judgment, 

“Mr. Spencer, are you okay?”

Shawn sways on the spot for a second, one fist clenched, mouth half open. For a strange moment, Karen gets the impression that he’s trying really hard not to say the wrong thing.

“... As rain,” he finally manages, then nods to himself like he achieved some great feat. “Okay. Well –”

“Did something happen to your shoulder?” 

“What? No!” Shawn’s eyes flutter closed and he shakes his head, “I’m – fine, Chief. It’s not – I mean, I’m – normal, fine. Fine in a normal way.”

“That’s not something an individual who’s fine in a normal way would say,” Karen says. 

“Uh, is it not! It is. I would know, because I am that individual. It’s – I was – there’s just mild – pfft … stab wound – or something, who would even …”

Is Shawn broken? is the unhelpful thought that pops into Karen’s head. She’s never heard an attempt to bullshit collapse so quickly into pathetic nothingness before – certainly not from Shawn.

Perhaps even more than his father, the kid’s a pro.

And then the rest of the sentence catches up with her.

“A mild stab wound?”

Oh boy. She watches Shawn’s eyes widen with the panic that proceeds an unquestionable blunder.

“Chief –” 

“In.”

“Chief, I really, really don’t think –”

“Inside my house. Now.”

He’s certainly uncoordinated enough that he doesn’t put up much of a fight. Karen herds him  through the door as firmly as possible and leads them in a beeline past Richard’s office toward the bathroom, ignoring the reedy stream of consciousness that spills out of Shawn’s mouth as they go.

“Oh, hey, woah, it’s been like forever since I was in here. Did you redecorate? I swear that lamp wasn’t there the last time we visited. It could be the tacos I had earlier, but I’m sensing a distinct neo-modern Chinese aesthetic going on here, Chief, which calls to mind the merits of cultural appreciation in suburban home decor – hey, is that your husband’s office? Can I meet him? Is he home? That man is a true enigma to us, Chief, and it’s leading me to believe that he must possess all the facial and personality qualities of the pop superstar Mr. Pitbull Worldwide –”

Richard is home, actually, and Karen needs to alert him to the fact that they have an unexpected house guest, so, ignoring Shawn completely, she calls out,

“Honey? Shawn Spencer’s here for a couple minutes about a work thing! I’ll go up to put Iris to bed in a second!” in the finely-honed There Are Many Layers Of Complicated To This secret married tone that Richard should probably be able to catch through the closed office door. 

“Alright,” floats out her husband’s pleasant voice. “Tell him hi from me.”

Perfect. There’s about a ninety-three percent chance he understood.

They make it to the bathroom, only stumbling slightly. Shawn says,

“-- or The Rock. Does your husband look like Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson? I really think that would make so many things about the Chief Vick family make sense –”

Karen closes the bathroom door with a snap and crosses her arms.

“Sit,” she says, in a voice that even he knows brooks no argument.

Shawn does. He looks – well, beyond uncomfortable, and more than a little bit miserable, and probably closer to completely dissociating than either of them are prepared for. Karen wonders belatedly if he's gotten any sleep at all in the last forty-eight hours.

“I’m assuming you have not been to the hospital.”

He gives her a baleful look, like he really expected better of her. She only just stops herself from rolling her eyes in response. And there’s that huge goose egg on his forehead, too. What, exactly, he got up to in between Carlton’s wedding reception and oh-eight-hundred hours this morning Karen has no idea, but he looks like someone’s run him through the world’s most aggressive industrial tumble dry cycle and spat him mercilessly back out. 

Or maybe over with a truck.

Sending a silent prayer to the universe that Iris never hit puberty and remains a sweet-tempered six-year-old forever, Karen gets to business.

“Well, I had to at least ask. Shawn. Does it need stitches?” He mumbles the answer the first time, and then looks beyond startled when she grabs him under the chin so he’ll look her in the eye. “Listen. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. But you’re going to tell me the truth. Got it?”

Shawn grimaces so hard at her words it’s almost a flinch. 

“No,” he says finally, clearly enough that she hears him. Karen raises an eyebrow. “No, I don’t think it needs stitches,” he articulates, but doesn’t meet her eye.

“Hm. Alright. I have gauze and tape in the medicine cabinet. Can I … is it alright if I pull up the sleeve of your t-shirt?”

Released from her hold, he groans and presses his face into one palm. “Chief –”

“I don’t really know what you expected, coming here! It’s not like I’m any less of a hardass than your father.”

“Yeah, but I can bitch back at my dad,” Shawn says, sounding like he’s finally realizing the magnitude of his mistake. Karen smiles grimly.

“Tough. Now pull your shirt up while I get the first aid kit.”

While Shawn proceeds to wrestle awkwardly with his t-shirt in a muted shuffle against the toilet seat, Karen rummages efficiently through the cabinet and eyes him through the bathroom mirror. He seems oddly reluctant to expose himself. In fact, in a stark contrast to his usual insistence on making his presence and contributions as obtrusively obvious as possible, Shawn seems intent on shrinking into the aforementioned Asian-flavored floral wallpaper (which does need an update, unfortunately) with all the equanimity of an anxious chameleon. Karen feels her eyebrows crease. Taking the first aid kit in hand, she brings it over and deposits it into his arms, ignoring his small startle.

“How about you hold that,” Karen says. Shawn does, against his chest, like a pillow. She walks around him and surveys the damage, antiseptic gauze in hand.

He wasn’t lying about the severity, at least. It’s a shallow thing, already mostly congealed, and has only stained his shirt in a small smattering spot of crusty brown blood.

Karen swabs at it with the alcohol using light careful fingers.

“Ow, ow ow ah –”

“Don’t be such a baby. It’s hardly a life-threatening injury.”

“Super insightful, Chief,” Shawn snaps, as genuinely sarcastic as he’s probably ever been with her, “never thought of that myself. Totally the reason why I just had to go to the hospital.”

He doesn’t pull away, but she can feel the tension radiating through his back. She blinks, one eyebrow crawling up her forehead. 

Alright then. So that’s how it’s going to be. 

“I’m assuming your father doesn’t know about this,” she says.

Shawn grunts, noncommittal. Huh. Maybe he does know, then, and has just been disallowed from doing anything about it right now.

She tosses the first used antiseptic wipe into the trash.

Goddamn four dimensional chess.

She supposes she’s never been bad at the game. She may as well work her way backwards through the moves: Guster, the most obvious node in Shawn’s turn-to-in-a-crisis-system, would never voluntarily abandon his friend in a time of need, so Karen assumes that whatever this is has either already included his support or not been made known to Gus at all yet. Henry’s likely exhausted his own usefulness in the situation, and Detective O’Hara is …

Karen has to work very hard for her hands not to pause in a way that gives away her hard-earned mental sleuthing. A bad feeling wholly unrelated to her ill-advised hangover of the day before begins to bloom at the back of her gut.

“You have really small hands, Chief.”

Shawn’s voice is notably more subdued than before.

“Do I?” 

“They’re like … little kangaroo hands. Like the mom kangaroo from Whinnie the Pooh.”

“Didn’t you know?” Karen says, not unkindly. “They’re given out at the hospital when all first-time moms leave with their baby.”

He lets out a tired little laugh, more boyish than he probably means it to be, and in spite of herself Karen feels her heart clench. She isn’t blind. In all her last seven years as the leader of their chaotic little precinct, she has never seen Juliet O’Hara look as ill as she did yesterday morning. The usually sweet-faced young woman had all the pallor of a Victorian ghost, and stood so far away from Shawn in any given room that to an unassuming observer he might have had the plague.

There are only a handful of things, Karen thinks, that could have invited that particular evolution in their dynamic. She rips the surgical tape from its canister a little bit more harshly than is strictly necessary and fights the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose between her fingers.

“So,” she says conversationally, laying the tape down in neat, gentle little strips, trying not to pinch the wound too tightly. “Any fun plans for the evening?”

Shawn sniffs. She can see him gripping his hands together over his knee from where she stands above him.

“Um, yeah, uh –” he clears his throat, “you know me, Chief. We’re working our way through a Robert Guillame marathon, which means some good old fashioned Benson, running commentary on the quality of that child acting, naturally.”

“Naturally.” 

“Then Gus and I were gonna hit up the new, the new chili cheese joint up by Hermosa, you know – they’re doing sliders –”

“Chili cheese sliders?” Karen hums, contemplative.

“Buy ‘em by the pound,” Shawn agrees. “Then I was thinking of getting a tattoo, maybe a belly button piercing, I’ve been really – really needing a change – would you let Iris get one, if she asked?”

“A tattoo?” Karen clarifies, cutting off the next piece of tape. The skin around the cut is warm to her touch but Shawn’s arms have goosepimpled. The hair at the back of his head sticks up unstyled, like he slept weirdly and couldn’t be bothered to fix it come morning.

“Of a marmoset. That’s what I’m thinking. With distinctly effeminate vibes.”

“Well, Dick hates marmosets. So I’d probably encourage her toward something else. Perhaps a sea lion.”

“Like Shabby.” The nervous note has bled into his legs again, and his earlier subdued tone has gone back to sounding strained. “Yeah, that’ll – that could be it.”

“All in one night, huh?” Karen says.

“I –” Shawn doesn’t even hiss when she presses down with a cotton gauze to cover the last of the thickened blood. His legs are properly jittering again. “I was – yeah, y-you know me, Chief, total night owl.”

“Shawn?”

“Yeah?”

“What about going home?”

Silence. Shawn doesn’t answer for a moment long and pregnant enough that Karen wonders if her question will be ignored entirely. 

Then,

“Chief,” he says finally, in an awful, tiny little voice, “I really, really fucked up.”

Finally, her hands do falter in their ministrations; as emotionally exuberant as Shawn often is, she doesn’t think she’s ever actually heard him close to tears. For a horrible moment she wonders if Shawn Spencer will suddenly start crying atop her toilet seat for reasons neither of them are capable of discussing honestly. Then she wonders if her horror makes her a terrible boss.

Boss – mother – person.

Oh, dear.

She sets down the surgical tape and lays a ginger palm over the newly-bandaged gouge in his shoulder. It’ll probably scar, but not at all badly. She doesn’t like to think about the far more obvious one just below, puckering in a violent yet unassuming divot. Another narrow miss for Henry’s boy. 

At this point there are so many of them to count, Karen has to question the statistical likelihood of the whole thing. Becoming a mathematical anomaly is, Karen can attest with confidence, not exactly the future the Lieutenant Spencer she knew dreamed of for his increasingly unmanageable teenager. 

Doing what he loved, on the other hand – absolutely. Being with a person he loved, even more so. Karen grits her teeth at the irritating web she’s spent the last six years constructing around herself and wonders if this evening right here is some kind of cosmic karma for leaving Iris in the care of nannies for the first three years of her life.

That sounds like the kind of thing those horrible parenting magazines and Karen’s mother-in-law would claim, anyway.

“Shawn,” she says slowly, because she has to at least knock this possibility off the list before risking her career in an attempt to mediate her detectives’ love lives, “did you … you weren’t – unfaithful, were you?”

“What?!” 

Shawn yanks his shoulder away and whirls around to face her with such a look of horrified betrayal on his face that it’s almost comical. 

“No!” 

Thank fucking God, Karen thinks. Aloud, she says,

“Well, I’m sorry, I had to at least ask!”

“No! No! What the hell, Chief!”

“Oh would you be quiet! I’m gathering my evidence here!”

“How could I – I would never – you’d even think that I could –”

“I know! Shawn, for God’s sake –” He’s scrambled to his feet in the cramped bathroom space, glaring, and has probably messed up all that surgical tape in the process. The half open first aid kit and his crumpled shirt press lopsided against his front and her garbage can is now full of oxidizing bits of cotton. Karen officially gives in to the urge to press her palms against her forehead. “I had to ask!” she repeats finally. “You and I both know you’re not gonna give me much else to work with, and you sounded so – so sad!” 

Shawn barks out a hysterical little laugh. Karen almost growls in frustration. 

“I am not going to risk all the very hard-earned rules I have in place without knowing for sure that my instincts aren’t wrong. Is that so hard to appreciate?”

Does it count as sound police work when the framework for your investigation is an unacknowledged lie? Karen doesn’t really know. Probably there’s another math metaphor to be made in there (you screwed your proof from the very beginning, maybe, Richard the professor would definitely have thoughts), or just a straight up joke. How to solve a case that’s cold before it ever has the chance to go live; a cover-up if she ever saw one. Unlikely that O’Hara will peep a word, and things will be a true mess for a few weeks, if she can’t make an educated guess about it. And no one will be explaining anything to Carlton, either …

Right before their goddamn audit, Karen thinks, aggrieved. She wonders if Henry considered this in his calculus. Send Shawn over, have her deal with him. Offer a huge unspoken you’re gonna be walking into a shitstorm tomorrow canary for her perennially chaotic mess of a coal mine. 

She can’t help but feel begrudgingly grateful, but that doesn’t mean she and he won’t be having words about this later.   

“Jesus, Karen,” Shawn mutters, pressing his face back into his free hand. Karen shakes her head and squares her shoulders.

“Well then! Back to the issue. You fucked up.”

“You know what? I can’t talk about this with you.”

“Oh, Mr. Spencer, I assure you I am more than well aware.”

Shawn blinks at her between his fingers, looking genuinely confused for the first time since he showed up at her door. 

Karen does not bother to clear up his confusion; it’s better this way, anyhow.

“Will you be sleeping at Gus’s place or your father’s?” she asks, crossing her arms.

“I’m – I don’t –” Shawn doesn’t meet her eye. The earlier thread of anxiety is back. “I wasn’t …”

So, neither. 

“Put your shirt back on,” she says. “We’re relocating to the living room.”

“Chief –”

“That was an order, Mr. Spencer.”

The living room is as quiet and mundane as it was an hour ago. It’s past Iris’s bedtime – she’ll have to go up, and soon at that. Karen seats her guest, retrieves a mug and a bag of chamomile from the kitchen, and removes the fluffy throw blanket from the basket behind the couch on her way back in. He’s deflated completely by the time the tea and blanket are set in front of him. Small and exhausted. Caught. It’s a horrible way to think about it. But she can’t avoid the hundred yard stare – Karen has seen it one too many times in people only just realizing they’re about to go away for life.

“Shawn,” she says, firm as she can make it. “Drink the tea. You’re dehydrated.”

“I’m … what?”

“Your lips are dry. You shouldn’t be dehydrated with a concussion.”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, and Karen suddenly wonders if he’s going to get up and leave. She has experience with these things – she knows a runner when she sees one.

“I might as well have,” Shawn finally whispers.

She doesn’t catch it the first time. “What?”

“I – I might as well ha – Chief, I …” Deep shuddering breaths. He’s finally shutting down, she realizes. She can’t send him back out like this; Henry would give her the stink eye for a month.

Goddamn Spencers and their goddamn irritating overcomplicated lives.

Karen pushes the tea directly into his hands and tilts her chin so she can meet Shawn’s eye. He’s still lucid enough that she doesn’t think he’ll start hyperventilating, but now that the outrage and adrenaline has worn off, the symptoms of shock are pretty hard to miss. “Shawn,” she says again, and wills for him to understand.

“What if she – what if I never –” He can’t get the full sentence out. He looks at her, eyes wide and terrified.

Life sentence, Karen thinks again. The messy stack of files Shawn brought over sits almost unimportantly on the coffee table between them and a memory comes to her, unbidden, of words penned carefully in the corner of a modified police report that she pulled the minute the door closed on the McCallum case seven years ago. 

Date: May 4th, 1995. Reporting Officer, Spencer, Lt. H. Perpetrator a caucasian male, brown hair, five foot nine, insists on wearing those stupid earrings just to spite me. What the hell do you want me to write here, Chief? Spent two hours in the fucking principal’s office convincing them not to expel him one month off from graduation. All that effort, and I still booked the kid. It’s gonna follow him for life, and it’s gonna be me that did it to him. For life. You think he’ll ever forgive me? He’s the greatest thing in my pathetic little world and he keeps breaking my heart, and I can’t even properly accept that it’s my fault. 

How’s that for a fucking crime.

She needs to go put her daughter to bed. It’s the thought that keeps running through her head, oddly enough, like a strange antidote to the impotent anger and heartbreak and frustration she’s feeling for the people under her care.

With all the notes she took in that little workbook, she still let herself become complicit in the painstaking, convoluted resolution of Henry’s mistakes without accounting for all the variables.  

Richard’s footsteps sound muffled in the next room; he’s made his way upstairs in Karen’s absence. She needs to go. She wants to hear the soft and sleepy love you Mama that with her unpredictable hours and regular long nights isn’t nearly routine enough.

“Shawn,” she says evenly. “Do you love her?”

It’s hard to reconcile the smarmy kid who tried to barter with her for twelve hundred a day with the devastated young man sitting on the couch in front of her.

“Chief …” he starts, barely above a whisper.

“Good. Then she’ll see that. Detective O’Hara is a smart and observant woman. What she chooses to do next is her decision, but … you might be – well, comforted by the fact that she’ll know that – truth.”

Shawn stares at her. The tea steams in front of him, cooling in increments. She takes a deep breath and gets to her feet, patting his uninjured shoulder brusquely. 

“I have to go check on Iris. When I come back down, I can drive you to the Psych office.”

Iris is fast asleep when she gets there. A library book lays open face down over her stomach, and her soft brown hair fans out against the pillow, silhouetted by the soft glow of the unicorn nightlight in the wall above her. Karen turns off the bedside lamp, tucks her daughter in, and kisses her forehead. Just before she leaves, she hears it: murmured, half-awake.

“Love you, Mama.”

“I love you too, baby.”

Karen goes back to her living room, car keys in hand. She’s planned her next move in the driver’s seat enough times throughout her career that it shouldn’t be too hard. 

[yourgentlegirlfriend]

Vendetta Chris Redfield x Civilian reader? Your writing is amazing! 🥹

FIRST! Before I post this I wanted to thank all of you for the older Leon post love because wow!! I really wasn’t expecting that AT ALL thank you so much. I got a little carried away on this one! I enjoyed writing it and it gave me and excuse to rewatch vendetta. There is no smut… BUT I can do a part two maybeee. PLEASE LEAVE STUFF IN MY INBOX, after this i have nothing </3

DISCLAIMER!! this is 18+ ONLY, please do not interact with my blog if you are underaged or don’t have age indicator in your bio!! thank you!!

gender neutral reader x Vendetta Chris Redfield.

Warnings: Mentions of explosions, blood, gore, close to death experience. Chris is over protective as fuck. Leon is dumb but so cute. BESTIE REBECCA TROPE.

Word count: 2,830

There was already chaos in the city, the only reason you knew is because your boss would rather die than send anybody home. But when he ran into the office, screaming that everyone needs to leave immediately, you knew there was something wrong. You tried to keep yourself calm, your heart beating so loud in your ears that you felt like you were going to puke. You walked out the double doors of the building, gripping at your bag . A loud gasp left your lips at the sound of a motorcycle roaring down the street, driving past you at least going eighty-six. This is a public area, starting right over by the district buildings. Right as you went to cross the street a loud explosion pushed you off your feet, throwing you to the ground. Your hand immediately flew to your head as you sat up, coughing from the wind literally being knocked out of you. You cleared your throat, blinking as a man squatted down to your height, offering his hand. He was speaking but the words were muffled, due to the fact that your body was still adjusting to the explosion that happened not even 10 feet away from you. With a pop your hearing cleared, along with your vision as you looked at the man.

“Are you alright?”

His voice was sweet, sultry and so so smooth. Like whiskey almost. You nodded your head as you pulled yourself up, ignoring his hand.

“Are you a cop?”

This was definitely a dumb question, you can see the snarky expression painted in his face. Your eyes trailed down his body, oh. He was in the military or something? Then something is really going down in the city.

“Because if you’re a cop, i have a gun in my bag i have a permit but-“

He put his hands up trying to ease you, bending down and handing you your bag.

“I’m no cop, but you should get out of the city. It’s getting bad.”

Your conversation was cut off by the loud sound of dogs snarling, Chris screaming loudly to who you assumed was his partner. All while you stood behind him, staring around the city as more loud bangs could be heard in the distance. Leon had yelled to Chris about getting through and bombing the rest of the trucks. Chris gritted his teeth watching as Leon sped off, the mutant dogs chasing after him. The anxiety kicked you in the jaw, your breathing labored a bit as Chris grabbed you by the arm, dragging you to the car.

“Just get in the back and stay down!”

Chris yelled as you got into the backseat, your hands shaking as you pressed your body against the cool leather seating. Chris was in the car not long after. I’m gonna die because I saw too much, or SOMETHING.(so you thought) There was no way you could make it out of this even with Chris by your side.

The drive was surprisingly calm after Chris bombed all the city's trucks. You sat in the back still staring out the window, rubbing at the bruise on your arm. Chris stared at you through the rear view window, tapping on the steering wheel.

“I’m Chris by the way, I didn’t mean to abduct you but, you got caught in crossfire.”

Even in a time like this Chris couldn’t help but chuckle a bit, his hand gripping at the steering wheel again.

“I’m (Y/N), and don’t be sorry I’m grateful, really. Thank you, Chris.”

Chris saved a hopeless civilian, you just kept thanking your lucky star you were in the right place at the right time.

When the car came to a stop, Chris turned to you, clearing his throat.

“Please- don’t leave the car. I won’t be more than maybe twenty minutes alright? Not that I care where you go or anything but, for your general safety.”

Chris spoke as he grabbed his gun from the passengers seat, checking sits magazine. His eyes shifted to the rear view window again, you saluted your fingers at him with a smile.

“Yes sir, Captain… Redfield?”

You squinted trying to read the badge on his chest. It was sarcasm and he couldn’t help but smirk before getting out of the car.

—-

You swore it wasn’t even 10 minutes but the anxiety was eating you alive. You groaned loudly, digging into your bag to find your pistol , squeezing your eyes shut as you let out a yell of adrenaline, pulling the shoes off your feet because god damn did they burn. You climbed out the backseat and opened the front door, even though the streets were empty you checked both ways before sprinting across. The front door to the building opened, your shaky hand pulling back the gun checking if it was ready to fire. Thank god your dad was a cop, because when he forced you to do all that training when you were younger you were thanking him from his grave. You ran down the flight of stairs, just following the sound of people. But the sound of “people '' was just a lot of moaning and groaning. You almost slipped off the last step, gaining your balance. You saw Chris surrounded by a bunch of… people? They were attacking him and he was shooting back but was obviously having trouble. You raised your arms with the pistol in hand, giving yourself a small mental pep talk which mostly consisted of “Please don’t shoot him” and “What if i shoot the wall” You squeezed your eye shut, your finger pressing into the trigger, a groan from Chris being heard as he pushed the now corpse off his body.

“Thank god Leon-“

Chris stopped dead in his tracks as he stood up, looking at you.

“What are you DOING?”

Chris screamed, walking towards you as you lowered the gun.

“I’m sorry! I got nervous by myself out there and when I came in here all I heard was grunting. I got worried!”

You yelled back as Chris ran his hand over his face in frustration. The two of you stood in silence for a few seconds before the door behind you swung open, Leon on his bike.

“Oh shit, sorry am I interrupting-“

“Shut up Leon, we have to find Rebecca.”

Chris cut Leon off before pointing at you.

“You stay behind me AND Leon and I swear to- whatever you believe in if you leave our sight, it won’t end up pretty.”

Leon let out a whistle as the two stepped ahead of you, you felt like a toddler. But the fear bubbled in you once more as you all walked into the room seeing Chris’ friend Rebecca strapped to the table. Her veins popping, her skin so pale. It made your stomach turn as Chris pulled her from the table, her groaning as he helped her to her feet.

——

Chris had mentioned something about finding a vaccine, and kept repeating the details over and over to you as you and him helped carry Rebecca to wherever you were going.

“Wait i’m not understanding Chris, Why-“

A bullet shot passed your leg, brushing it leaving a small chunk of your leg bare and bloody, a loud shriek leaving your lips as your grip on Rebecca got loose. You grabbed Rebecca's arm firmly, throwing it over your shoulder as Chris looked over the ledge. He knew what he had to do, he looked at Rebecca then back to you.

“Please remember what I asked of you.”

He was so fast, it’s scary actually.

“Here we go, let’s lay you down..”

You spoke softly to Rebecca as you propped her against the wall. Rebecca coughed, grabbing your arm as you went to turn away, but was too weak to speak. Though your leg was pouring blood, your pants ripped. You ran towards the staircase, listening to the groans and gunfire coming from Chris’ area. You shoved your way past the doors, looking down the long spiral staircase

“Mother fucker…”

You whispered to yourself before taking your first step down the steps which eventually led you right to the room as Chris described. Out of breath, grabbing at your ribs, the doors automatically opened. A small smile on your face as you went to grab at the green tank Chris had preached to you. Before you could pick it up you heard the noise of stomping behind you, finding whatever the fuck that thing was towering over you as you held the tank to your chest. A scream left your lips as you ducked as fast you could, sprinting towards the stairs before you made it back towards the entrance of the staircase, hearing the glass above you shatter. You closed your eyes and sprinted your way up the steps, trying to ignore every loud crash and bang filling your ears.

——

Still completely out of breath- you finally got back to Rebecca, your skin pale and your hands shaking as you pulled her legs to allow her to lay down, connecting the machine to your best ability. She stared up at you with shallow breaths before her eyes closed. You let out a string of curse words as you gently lifted her head, connecting the mask to her face and pressing the button on the machine. You flinched, your body covering over Rebecca at the sight of Leon and Chris fighting this horrendous monster, your vision getting blurry as you sat back, beside Rebecca, looking down at where you had been shot.

“Okay.. okay..”

You whispered as you pulled the belt off your waist from your pants, trying to tighten it around your thigh but failing. You’d never felt pain like this. You were normal, this wasn’t normal for you. Everyday you wake up, you mix the oat milk into your bitter coffee and you do paperwork, all. day. long. Maybe meeting Chris wasn’t the right thing, maybe you should’ve just stayed home today, Maybe you shouldn’t have even moved to New York. Flashbacks of you and your dad arguing filled your head as your fingers grazed over your open wound once again. You fluttered your eyes open, smiling as Rebecca’s color started to come back. At least somebody important like her could live, important people like Chris- like Leon. They live, boring people like you die to assist.

—-

You were passed out and don’t remember much. But Chris does.

Chris helped Leon up, staring down at the timer on his watch letting out a yell of Rebecca’s name as he ran towards where he left the two of you. His chest aching at the site of your belt loosely laid around your thigh, but Rebecca laid quietly, her breathing steady and the vaccine was given to her. Chris groaned as he lifted you up, holding you to him. Stranger, sure. But somebody with your drive is needed.

—-

The sounds of beeping woke you up, a sharp breath leaving your nose as your eyes opened. The heart monitor went off as you sat up. Oh? A hospital?.. Your hand reached up to feel the beating of your heart, sighing in relief before a pair of heavy boots ran into the room followed by another… and another.

“Chris?”

You coughed, your voice was weak from not speaking days on end. It turns out you weren’t just shot in the leg, but in the side too. And when Rebecca reached out for you, it’s what she was trying to tell you. Chris wore.. somewhat normal clothing, leaning on the bed frame you laid on, watching Rebecca leave the room.

“Thank you, for what you did. You don’t understand you are a Hero-“

You cut Chris off, pointing to him.

“No, Chris. I’m not you. I watched you and Leon in actual shock.. I mean- my dad was a police officer but never have I seen stuff like.. well, that.”

You rambled, looking at the man in front of you. He stared at you in what admiration?

“You have to brainwash me now huh, or kill me, either one”

You joked as you laid your head back against the pillow. You gasped, your hand flying to your mouth as you pointed out the window to the city. Chris nodded but laughed.

“I’m sorry your flat was destroyed but, my organization wants to fund you with permanent housing till we can figure out a situation for you.”

Chris walked around the bed and sat down on the chair next to your bed, your head turning to him.

“Oh so, I’m gonna be a prisoner..”

You teased before he handed you a pair of keys.

“By my organization I mean me, you’ll be staying with me. You’re welcome.”

——-

Chris Redfield. A man of his word. You grew fond of him way too quickly, waking up in the morning to him leaving for the day but as he walked out the door he let you know he made you coffee and bought oat milk and it’s in the fridge. He was rough on the outside but he was an angelic man. He cared for so many people, and he doesn’t like to admit the trauma he has faced. Nights where the two of you sit eating dinner and he tells you stories of all the places he has been. You could see the pain in his eyes though and it made you feel for him. You wish you could hear what he went through, but even from what you saw, it’s too much.

——

You set the table and all, making dinner for Chris and you put your whole heart and soul into it. He comes home at 9:30 every night, so everything was ready and you wore the nicest shirt you own that Rebecca had let you borrow but you still were nervous.

Chris never showed up though, and you sat at the table, tears filling your eyes as you watched the door in silence. You hadn’t even realized you fell asleep till you heard the door slam open, your head lifting off the table to see Chris walk in, his face cut up and dirty. You could see the moment his face dropped seeing you had prepared something nice, for him.

Immediately standing you ran to the kitchen grabbing a wet towel before walking back to Chris.

“What happened Chris? Jesus..”

Chris allowed you to lead him over to the bathroom, sitting him on the toilet. Chris couldn’t help but smirk at you, the worried look on your face, your eyebrows frowned as you wiped at his face. Chris’ hand reached up, his thumb running across the dry tears on your cheeks. You turned your face away, continuing to wipe his face. Chris sighed, grabbing your hand, kissing your knuckle as he closed his eyes.

“When I go out like that, I get so scared I won’t come back and I will leave you wondering..”

Chris sighed as he took in your scent. Your eyes stared down at him, feeling your heart rate pick up as he brought your hand to his chest.

“And look at you.. you got dressed up and made me dinner? Just for me to leave you hanging.”

You shook your head at him, your hands cradling his jaw.

“No matter what time, no matter what day, even if it’s weeks, years. I’ll be here. I mean I do live here..”

You joked, your nose scrunching, causing Chris to let out a genuine laugh. Chris’ hands rested on your hips as you put the towel down, applying antibiotic ointment to his cheek and his nose. Chris watched you place the tube down, mentally screaming at himself as he stood, his hands holding your cheeks as he pressed his lips against yours softly. If you told anybody Chris was the type of man to allow his partner to put bandaids on his scratches and give them soft kisses in return, they would laugh at you. Chris broke the kiss, sighing as he looked in the mirror, his hand running over his scruff. He’s really acting like he didn’t just kiss you. You stood there, hands at your side as you watched him pull his shirt over his head.

“I love you Chris.”

You blurted out, your breath skipping as he looked at you from the mirror. Reminding you of when the two of you first met, him staring at you through that rear view window.

“I love you too.”

[hovershiplogos]

Guess who's doing rewatches again? It's me, and well, not entirely a rewatch:

Yes, that's right, it's Enter the Matrix. Because it's criminal that for a blog named for the little ship that could, I've haven't actually done a deep dive on the game itself! So I'm going to fix that!

I'm also going to play through as both Niobe and Ghost, as depending on who you're playing, the missions play out slightly different, and the cutscene dialogue varies as well. Also, not going to do like a  blow by blow kinda thing. Only going to comment on things that caught my  interest, or seem rather amusing to me.  If you want a little more context, I suggest checking out the couple of playthroughs/cut scene compilations on youtube.

Also of note, the game picks up right after the Animatrix short Final Flight of the Osiris.

Anyway, let's get to it!

AND IT'S THE MAIN REASON I'M STILL HERE, BECAUSE OF THIS PESSIMISTIC SNARKY COWARD RIGHT HERE. And he's self aware about it as well.

Also interesting to note is that according to this cutscene, Sparks has been operating on board the Logos for 3 years. Now, a standard US navy tour of duty (and I'm going with Navy rather than Army as Zion's army is referred to as a Navy fleet) is between 2-3 years. Not really going anywhere with this, but it's interesting to note.

Niobe is a 'my way or the highway' kinda person. No wonder it didn't work between her and Morpheus. It's also telling that Ghost has known Niobe for long enough to know that this is what she's like. I wonder if Ghost is the glue in this ship dynamic? As in, he knew Niobe and Sparks separately before they knew each other, if that makes sense?

And it's the little hovership that could, the little lightning bug of the fleet! Those red lights on the ship look like they're the same as the ones on the sentinels. I wonder if a bulb blows or something they scavenge one from a deactivated squiddie as a replacement?

It's not particularly clear, but I never realised that Niobe's hair is tied with what looks like string with gold in it? Maybe a metal band with gold on it? I'm not sure, but it's pretty!

Also, I appreciate that they give a reason why Niobe is going after this drop, rather than waiting for someone else (ie: Neo) to go get it.

Also, saying are you red or blue on this is a very cool in universe way of saying are you with me or not?

The subtitles are missing here, but what he says:

"You know me Niobe. It's not a choice, it's a way of life."

Ghost, you're awesome, you know that, right?

I get Sparks' complaint here, there are only two of them, and it would be a lot safer to wait for back up to help them out. But nope, you know what Niobe's like, get it done.

Also, as I remarked earlier, the fact that Niobe is willing to risk going in without support , especially given what she says about Thaddeus not using the drops unless he had no choice? And now they're all dead? They definitely need to get that package before the agents do.

I personally love Niobe's little eye roll here.

I also love that Ghost is more chill and amused by Sparks than exasperated like Niobe is. Yeah, Ghost is the glue holding the team together.

Also, a little mention of Zion funerary practices. As someone pointed out to me years ago, I suspect that the gardens is similar to the Exodus fleet's method of burial, but who knows?

Yup, words to live by!

Once again, Niobe is rolling her eyes behind the sunnies. This is what she has to put up with. Also, I would love to think that one time Sparks pranked Ghost by running some program that sent his guns soaring upward.

I always used to think that Ghost was the serious, no nonsense one in the crew, but I'm beginning to think I'm wrong on that front.

Sparks, why do you want his boots? They're too small for your big feet!

Niobe has great taste in old muscle cars. Good old 1967 Pontiac Firebird, in eggplant purple instead of black. Very stylish!

That's all for now, next up will be the post office. See you then!

[alcedeerie]

Hello! Do you aspire to have a mad profession, but don’t know where to start since garden-variety biochemistry isn’t for you? Do you not have the expertise, are you simply bored with the premise, maybe looking to try something different?

Reasons aside, you’re in luck! Here are some alternative lesser-known mad professions for you to consider!

Actor

a classic

everyone loves the theater kid urge to throw an extravagant party which is actually a setup for an equally extravagant murder game!

and it’s all filmed to rewatch later

something about being doomed by the narrative except you are the narrative

General Artistry

so many options!!

costumes with colors that don’t exist

illustrations that slowly alter minds

cursed unknowable sculptures

animation creepypastas, but like, the real and better version this time!

websites that have no bottom, they scroll forever, and the more you scroll, the more things you Learn.

photographs from impossible perspectives

tattooists can even tattoo magic-infused designs into their skin for extra power and insight!

Programming

programming is already a hassle, why not draw power from it? it can’t possibly drive you crazier than the missing semicolons do!

Architecture

Everyone loves their non-Euclidean architecture, but no one ever stops to think who DESIGNED it. That special someone could be you!

CEO

Most CEOs are mad CEOs, so the term “mad CEO” is usually redundant. If you become the CEO at any company that doesn’t have a double or single-digit number of employees, congratulations, you are considered mad by definition.

Spies and Detectives

They’re shady, mysterious, and have strange quirks. Surprisingly, mad spies are threatened and mad detectives are severely endangered as these professions are becoming more heroic in nature. The world needs more cutthroat spies and dishonest corrupt detectives.

Note: I do not recommend the similar Police Officer as a mad profession, simply because it’s boring and has no agency. Cops take orders and wear uniforms, the detective does things their own way and gets to have their own style all the time, all on their own.

Streamer/Youtuber/Social Media Influencer

Have you ever wanted to start a cult AND be caught up with the trends? Well now you can! It’s not like it’s that uncommon today anyways!

Writer (Fanfic)

Devote yourself to a god of someone else’s making and rip yourself apart! You can do it in cosplay! You can do it however you feel like it! Stories become legends become myths become gods, and at the center of it is you!

Mathematician

The numbers transcend mortal experience. When the universe dies, the numbers say how it will happen, and after it happens, the numbers remain; unmoving, unchanging, uncaring.

Linguist

Have you ever seen people locked in an unfurnished room for years with monolingual speakers of entirely different languages to study the unique pidgin language they create as they learn to communicate? Well, now you will!

Chiropractor

It’s not like these people are even doctors. You don’t need a general medical degree to practice it and the guy who invented it said he learned it from a ghost. Why not go into it with the intention of breaking as many bones as possible?

Taxidermist

nonsensical stuffed dead animal monsters.

yeah that’s it, but it’s worth it.

[frangipanilove]

LC6M187; “Lincoln Continental”or “Lucifer/Christ”?

Shane's "22" Necklace Revisited

This is a post that's been years in the making. In fact, the themes around Shane, Beth and the Venus/Lucifer/Morningstar symbolism were among the first that caught my interest when I got into TD. I could relate it all to Beth in a general sense, but I always wanted something more tangible. Sure, Lucifer means Light Bringer, and we can easily tie that to Beth. But it's also very surface level. I needed something deeper, something more like a smoking gun, and the other day, I think I found it.

The other day I was rewatching scenes from season 1 in preparation of this post, about the XH6-S781 licence plate, when I suddenly saw a familiar licence plate in a scene I hadn't been aware of, and everything clicked into place.

The LC6M187 licence plate on Shane’s Jeep Wrangler, from 1x3 Tell It To The Frogs.

It's the same as the one we see in on the car 5x2, the one Carol and Daryl use to chase after Officer Lichari's Dodge Magnum. I've written a couple of posts on that here and here. My hypothesis is that the LC in LC6M187 stands for Lincoln Continental, which is a nod to the car Daryl and Beth hid in in 4x12 Still.

LC6M187 is the licence plate on the car that directly lead Daryl and Carol to Noah, and by extension to Beth, in 5x6 Consumed.

We see it for the very first time in 1x3 Tell It To The Frogs, on Shane's black Jeep Wrangler, and we see it along with Carol's yellow Jeep Cherokee and T-Dog's Dodge Van. I talked about the Dodge Van with the XH6-S781 licence plate here, and I'll probably do a separate post on the symbolism around the yellow Jeep Cherokee soon-ish (I did talk about it some here).

At the campsite we see Carol's yellow Jeep Cherokee, T-Dog’s Dodge Van and Shane’s black Jeep Wrangler

One thing that’s abundantly clear, is that the overarching theme of 1x3 TITTF is "death" and "resurrection". More specifically, it's about Merle’s “death” and Rick’s “resurrection”. Rick, believed by his family to be dead, "resurrects" and reunites with his loved ones.

Merle, on the other hand, “disappears”, and isn’t seen again until season 3, when he “resurrects” as one of the Governor's henchmen (except for a brief appearance in Daryl's hallucination in Chupacabra). Death and resurrection are two sides to the same story, you can’t have "resurrection" without “death".

I’m not the first to point out the parallels between Merle and Beth, and I believe the LC6M187 license plate further confirmed these parallels, since we specifically see Daryl learn about Merle’s fate as we see the license plate in the shot very clearly. The story being told around the car is one of death and resurrection.

We actually first see the license plate as Daryl returns to camp after a hunt, calls for his brother and learns that he’s been left behind on a rooftop in Atlanta, exposed to the elements and to walkers. However, Rick intends to go back for him, along with Glenn and T-Dog.

Daryl joins in.

And of course, when they get there, Merle's “just gone”.

This reminds us of what many of us believe went down after 5x8 Coda. We don't know the details, but many of us theorize that for some reason, they had to leave Beth behind (and like I’ve mentioned, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was in the back of Officer Lichari’s Dodge Magnum), with the intention of going back for her, only when they did, they found she was “just gone”.

Let’s talk about Shane for a minute. In this old post I wrote about Shane’s 22 necklace, and in it I promised to write more on the Beth/Shane entanglement...

...and then I just never did. In my early days of being in TD, while I was still figuring out the Sirius symbolism, I did see a lot of symbolical entanglement between Shane and Beth, though I couldn’t quite articulate what it meant. I caught a lot of Morningstar references, references to Christ as the Morningstar, as well as references to Morningstar as a representation of the Devil. I read up the astronomy of the ancient Greeks, who identified Venus/the Morningstar as Phosphorous and Eosphorous, meaning the Light Bringer (Venus is a planet, not two stars as they believed).

Then when seson 4 rolled around, TPTB placed Beth in the center of the Sirius symbolism, which we saw particularly with the white one-eyed dog from Alone. As Sirius is also a Morningstar, I hypothesized that the Venus/Morningstar symbolism and the Sirius symbolism were synonomous. I still believe that.

After Slabtown, we all got obsessed with the "Get Well Soon" clock and how to interpret it.

I knew I believed one of the interpretations of the Slabtown clock involved Shane, because depending on how you read the numbers, the 10 minute marker and the 2 hour marker is the same, meaning you could use 10 and 2 interchangeably. I theorized that the clock therefore could point to episodes 2x2, 2x10, 10x2 and 10x10 (also read this post). You could for exemple argue that it pointed to episode 2x2 Bloodletting, which was when Beth first appeared on the show. But it was also a number linked to Shane, through his necklace.

Later, I also realized that the Slabtown clock could be pointing to episode 10x11 (if you read 10 - one one), which was called Morningstar, and that was a bit of a lightbulb moment; the number 22 is tied to the Morningstar reference in Revelation 22:16.

Isn’t it fascinating how the number of the verse also corresponds with Shane’s necklace?

But Morningstar has also traditionally been a reference to the Devil. That’s an interesting duality, which is perfect for TWDU, and it is something that helps explain the symbolical entanglement between Beth and Shane.

So, Lucifer is in the Bible used as one of the names of Christ, it means "light bringer". It has also been used, especially in literature, as a name for the Devil, Lucifer Morningstar. There’s an interesting duality in the name Lucifer, one iteration referring to Christ, the other referring to the Devil, and it was in that duality I picked up on the symbolism entanglement between Shane and Beth.

They had the same symbolism around them, but in Beth’s case, it was Christ symbolism, in Shane’s case it was the symbolism of the Devil. Where the LC on the LC6M187 license plate on Shane’s black Jeep Wrangler indicates he’s a Prince of Darkness, the same LC on the licence plates seen on other cars points to the resurrection sybolism of the Lincoln Continental from Still, it refers to the resurrection symbolism of a Christ figure, the properties of the Light Bringer. Light and darkness. You can’t have resurrection without death, they’re two sides to the same story.

Beth’s a Sirius figure, she’s associated with fire. We watched her light a fire in Still, she lit a stack of cash on fire to burn down the moonshine shack, she’s associated with yellow, as in her yellow polo, and Yellow Jacket Creek. Shane’s black Jeep Wrangler indicates darkness.

To say that Beth is a Light Bringer is nothing new at this point, it's been abundantly clear since 4x12 Still.

But keep in mind what happened immediately before the scene where she lit the fire:

We see Beth and Daryl "resurrect" from the trunk of the Lincoln Continental (LC) after having escaped death by walker horde the night before. And when we see her start the fire in the next scene, she does so by using the side mirror and a shard of glass from the headlights of the Lincoln Continental. Actual hardware from the car that saved their lives, the car that's been referenced by all the LC licence plates. It's a car that's tied to resurrection, and Beth immeditately establishes herself as Lucifer, the Light Bringer, using tools provided by the car, to light a fire. This is textbook Lucifer Morningstar symbolism.

And this is where an alternative way of interpreting the LC6M187 licence plate reveals itself.

Because remember what I said about the duality in that Lucifer refers to both Christ and the Devil? Could the LC, in addition to being a reference to the Lincoln Continental, also be a reference to Lucifer and Christ?

Could it be, that in the case of the Lincoln Continental from Still, the LC means Lucifer as Christ, marking Beth as the Light Bringer, the Morningstar in its Christ iteration?

As the seasons went by, I came to realize that the entanglement between Beth and Shane in reality was entanglement between Rick and Shane. Rick is the original Christ figure, the original Sirius figure, the original Morningstar. And the reason it comes across as though Beth’s tangled up in all of that, is because she’s so heavily paralleled with Rick. Whatever resurrection symbolism we've seen around Rick, we've also seen around her. And we've watched Rick "resurect" twice now, so...

We really saw this quite clearly in Slabtown, where Dawn, a Morningstar reference, was Shane to Beth’s Rick. Like Shane, she was a cop, her name indicates Morningstar symbolism, and she’s the reason Beth “died”, like Shane was the last one to see Rick before he "died" at the hospital.

Notice the scissors sticking out from Dawn's shoulder. That's another interesting exemple of the entanglement between Shane and Beth. As a weapon of choice when attemting to assert yourself in confrontation with someone carrying a gun, a tiny pair of scissors would probably be my last choice. Why did TPTB do Beth so dirty?

Because symbolism.

We all remember Beth sacrificing herself for Noah in Slabtown, right? He was injured, and much slower than her. He wasn't going to make it without her intenvening. And she did. But in doing so, she ended up trapped, while Noah escaped.

In 2x3, Shane was in a similar situation. Carl had been shot, he needed medicine, and Shane and Otis went out to find it. Inevitably, they ran into a walker horde, and Shane sacrificed Otis so he himself could get away. As he returned to the farm alone, he knew he had fundamentally changed. We get a scene where he shaves his hair off, and transforms into something Devil-like before our eyes. He went "full Shane", as became the meme around the fandom. It means he surrendered to and embraced the Devil side of his Lucifer properties.

And, I want to address the fact that what we see in 2x3, of Shane shooting Otis in the foot, effectively sacrificing him, was entirely told through flashbacks. Meaning, the actual events happened in the previous episode, which was…. Yep. 2x2. Another representation of the 22/Lucifer/Morningstar symbolism and the duality it entails. I’m side-eying that heavily.

We see Shane holding the clippers in his hand in this pic. The 22 necklace is also visible. There's a parallel to Beth here, hiding the scissors up her cast:

Her unconventional choice of weapon to bring to a gunfight is only sufficiently explained through symbolism. Clippers and scissors are tools used for similar tasks. Beth used them after sacrificing herself for Noah (for the second time, no less), Shane used them after having sacrificed Otis.

We also get this representation of the 22/Lucifer/Morningstar symbolism on the trunk of one of the Grady cars in 5x8 Coda, proving the symbolism around Shane's necklace extends beyond Shane himself. And again, remember this was introduced all the way back in season 1. The symbolism goes back to the very beginning.

We've also seen the 22/Lucifer/Morningstar symbolism several other times over the years, such as in 10x13 What We Become, which I've talked about here. Here we see a “22” next to a "11" or a "one one", as we remember from Noah's T-shirt.

Returning to the LC6M187 licence plate for a moment. In season 2 we see yet another one of these license plates on a Ford Mustang, in the exact same shade of yellow as Carols Jeep Cherokee and Beth’s yellow polo.

It’s the car where they end up leaving supplies and a note to Sophia, hoping she’ll return. She didn’t, but if she had managed to return to the Mustang with the supplies, they would have found her and she would have survived. The car provided an opportunity for survival had she managed to return to it. The symbolism of the license plate is still, as in 1x3 TITTF, one of death and resurrection.

The next time we see this license plate is in 3x15, when Merle sacrifices himself so that Michonne and TF can live. Remember we literally became aware of the LC6M187 license plate in 1x3 TITTF, as Daryl learned about Merle being left behind in Atlanta, and when they went looking for him, he was "just gone". Presumed dead, except he wasn't. He “resurrected” in season 3. It’s fitting that it also is a car with this particular license plate that takes him to his sacrificial death. Death and resurrection. Merle did something very Christ-like in his final moments. He sacrificed himself for his brother's new family.

The next time we see a representation of the symbolism of the LC6M187 license plate is in 4x12 Still. We see Beth and Daryl survive a walker horde by hiding in the trunk of a car, a Lincoln Continental. The LC6M187 licence plate itself doesn’t appear in this scene, but my hypothesis is that the LC of the license plates are direct references to this particular Lincoln Continental, and that it was established as resurrection symbolism all the way back in 1x3 TITTF, under showrunner Frank Darabont.

Then, we come across it again in 5x2 Strangers.

Carol is having second thoughts on just about anything. Daryl catches her attempting to leave in a car they discovered earlier that day. This one had a battery charger(!) in the trunk(!). And a very familiar license plate, LC6M187.

Remember, at this point, Beth is “just gone”. Then, suddenly a car with a white cross drives by. Daryl recognizes it as similar to the car that took Beth in 4x13 Alone. They follow the car to Atlanta.

The car they follow is actually Officer Licari’s Dodge Magnum. It is potentially the actual car Beth was left in after Coda. And interestingly, we see here both the XH6-S781 license plate and the LC6M187 license plate in the same scene for the first time since 1x3 TITTF. And Beth is right in the center of the symbolism, in a way that is impossible to disregard! That seems significant to me.

To my knowledge, we don’t ever see the LC6M187 license plate again, but we've had some references to it, such as from the season finale of season 1 of TWDDD. We see Carol in a blue Ford Mustang, with a license plate with the numbers 502, which obviously points to TWD 5x2, the exact episode when we last see the LC6M187 license plate. And when we last see it, it is when Daryl and Carol are following Officer Lichari’s Dodge Magnum to Atlanta. I’ve written about it here and here.

It’s interesting that we’ve had a few mustangs on the show, and it's interesting that they're all tied up in the symbolism around Beth.

But there was also another Mustang, one I haven't mentioned yet, Lucille's green(e) Ford Mustang from 10x22 Here’s Negan. The 22nd episode of season 10... it’s almost like it was foreshadowed by the Slabtown clock… Feel free to side-eye that, I know I do...

Yup, Negan’s wife Lucille drove a green Ford Mustang, and we did get a great look at the license plate

I’m not going to pretend I’ve got everything figured out in regards to these licence plates. I can offer suggestions and explain how I interpret them, but anybody's is guess is as good as mine.

But Lucille’s Mustang almost has got to be involved in the things I've discussed in this post. First, the names Lucifer and Lucille are closely related, they both refer to "light", in that they're both names that are derived from the Latin word for for light, "lux".

“Lucille" is derived from "Lucy/Lucia", patroness saint of the blind.

Again, Beth is right in the center of this symbolism:

Does the LC of the LC6M187 licence plate stand for Lucifer/Christ, essentially describing the duality of the symbolism that’s tied to both the Christ/Light Bringer and the Devil? Is it a metaphor for the duality of "death and resurrection", of light and darkness?

Rick as the Christ figure, Shane as the Devil.

Beth as the Christ figure, Dawn as the Devil?

On the license plate of Lucille's green Ford Mustang, we first see an X. It likely means “cross”, or Christ, or "resurrection"… or it could mean Roman Numeral 10, as in the season in which this episode occurred?

Then a "V"…

...which incidently is the 22nd letter of the alphabet. That's quite the coincidence, isn't it? In the 22nd episode of season 10... we see a "V" for Venus which is the 22nd letter of the alphabet? "V" for Venus, Morningstar, the 22nd letter, and seen on Shane's necklace? Remember that the Bible verse with the Morningstar reference was 22:16.

Then you see the “11”. Obviously, one interpretation is that it’s a reference to the “one one” on Noah’s t-shirt, or to episode 10x11 (10 - one one) Morningstar. Another could be that 1+1=2, and it refers to the second letter of the alphabet, B... for Beth?

Then there's the "44". Is it a reference to the comic book issue that revolves around Andrea, the Beth proxy, being shot? Or is it a representation of Daryl Dixon, in that D is the fourth letter in the alphabet, so that 44 = DD?

I can't say for sure, and I'm open to sugestions.

[california-112]

For the ask game:

If you were a character, who would you be and why?

Very unpopular opinions? Share them here!

Have fun:)

Hi, hello! Thanks for the ask!

This is the list they're from, and I'm still (always!) open to more :)

If you were a character, who would you be and why?

Mulder. Next question...

No, I'll elaborate. For my first reason, I'll quote my own post:

"Imagine. Going through your whole life looking like that." Yeah I can imagine going through my whole life looking like Fox Mulder, it's called gender eurphoria

I spelt euphoria wrong waaah

Apart from the looks, though, he seems to have a pretty cool life. UFO hunting, investigating the supernatural, cool apartment, great partner, fun basement office, action and adventure...of course, there are downsides (missing sister, constant brushes with danger, frequently hunted by the government, paperwork, etc.), but overall it looks very interesting.

However, we're also already not dissimilar. I may not be quite as much of a conspiracy nut as he is (though of course I believe in aliens 🛸), and I'm certainly not about to join the FBI even if the 'uniform' does look hella cool, but we apparently both have issues with sleeping, eating, trust, fire, and obsession/hyperfixation (e.g. Grotesque and his whole search for the Truth), at least. [Let me know if you think my assessment of his character (and/or mine?!) is unfair or wrong; I can't remember exactly what's in canon and what appears more in fanon.]

The most random similarity is that both of us have used the sound of a light aircraft to locate something. In Mulder's case, during S01E15 'Lazarus', it's a sound caught on a recording that helps him find Scully. For me, I was hiking with a group a few years ago and we were mildly lost. However, when I heard a light aeroplane doing spin training, I knew that it could only being doing that over certain areas in our locality, and from the map we had I could work out our location more accurately, the result being that we made it home that evening.

I can also blame Mulder for my new sunflower seed addiction! Thanks a bunch.

Of course, if I were actually to turn up in a TXF episode, it would probably be as background character #3 who has a couple of lines being questioned by Scully whilst Mulder waits moodily in the background, but hey. I want to believe.

Very unpopular opinions? Share them here!

Look, this show may be a new love of mine, but yes, I do already have some potentially unpopular opinions. Buckle in...

I'm not a fan of MSR. You said unpopular! I've really enjoyed the early seasons of the show for the friendship between Mulder and Scully, and I see that as just continuing. Yes, they get closer, how could they not? But I dislike the fact that they (apparently) actually get together in the end and it's canon.

I will add the disclaimer that, yes, I am only up to S05E09 at the moment, and I suppose that the storyline could lead very nicely into it. However, at the moment from what I've seen in content on here like gifsets and edits, I don't think I'll like it, and I prefer the vibe of the show as it now is.

This marries up (!) with my dislike of many of later parts of the mytharc that I'm coming to now. It's probably because I personally prefer monster of the week episodes, but especially the S4 mytharc eps were among my least favourites, and some of them were bordering on a struggle to watch.

Which leads into my general dislike of S4, definitely an unpopular opinion according to the poll that happened recently. I won't go on too much as I've said this in some tags before, but I find it hard to believe that S4 is a favourite season. Yes, there are some good eps! Demons is my favourite of the season and among my top episodes of the show so far, and Tempus Fugit/Max was excellent. But there was also The Field Where I Died, Never Again, Memento Mori, Synchrony, Zero Sum...some of my least favourite episodes so far, that I would probably avoid on a rewatch.

Ok, rant over. Thank you for this ask, it was great fun to think about the answers! :D

[tenpintsofsundrop]

Criminal Minds Blurb Requests - Now Open

(Also I love this gif omg. They are judging you.)

Requests CLOSED as of September 17th, 2023.

(I am keeping this post up for future reference/in case I ever want to open requests again.)

Hello! I have decided that I will be accepting requests for Criminal Minds. I have been rewatching the show lately and it has sparked my interest in the characters, and while I am tentatively working on some longer fics, I would like to get inspired by working on some blurbs.

Once again, I am making my own prompt list, because I liked how it worked last time. You don’t have to use ideas from this list, feel free to send me your own ideas/original requests. As long as they are fairly simplistic, I will use them for blurbs. If they are too simple/too vague, I might not use your idea, and if it’s too complex, I might not be able to fit it in around one thousand words, so it won’t get done in a timely manner. (Note: all requests are not guaranteed to get done, and get done based on my personal interest/how inspiring I find them.)

Characters I write for: Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan, Elle Greenaway, Emily Prentiss, and Jennifer Jareau.

(More information below the cut - please read it before requesting.)

I will accept requests for poly ships (character x reader x character). I love writing these, actually - and I will add Will Lamontagne to the list of characters if only to be paired with JJ in this format.

Please make sure you specify in the request if you want the reader to be female, gender neutral, or male. When I write gender neutral reader fics, I do not describe the genitals or mention what kind of genitals they have if it is a smut fic, so I don't write "GN AFAB" reader fics. If you want the reader of the fic to have a vagina, that would be a fem reader in my fics.

I will write smut, angst, or fluff, but I mostly prefer writing smut or angst. When requesting smut, please make sure that you specify who is the dom and who is the sub (aka sub!reader and dom!canon character, or the reverse - I write for both). 

I will write for a lot of dark topics and different kinks. In general, the list of things that I won’t write for is a lot shorter than the list of things I will write for. So if you’re wondering if a request is within my personal squicks or not, just ask! For reference, my main no-nos are: virgin!reader or innocent!reader - I am okay with doing "faux" innocent reader or writing about the canon character being a virgin and having their first sexual experience with the reader. I don't write fics about miscarriages, and extreme choking kink. And that is about it. I will write fics involving pregnancy, though.

Smut Prompts/Ideas:

the canon character is a virgin (ex: virgin!Spencer) 

"just the tip"

there was only one bed

(additionally, sharing a motel/hotel room and seeing the other person get out of the shower wrapped in a tiny hotel towel that barely covers them)

caught masturbating 

you are babysitting their kid (this one is mostly for JJ)

you are taking a class they teach (this one is mostly for Spencer - but it could work for the other characters if they are giving a speech/a seminar on profiling?)

accidentally sending nudes 

“can you teach me how to do (blank)?” (ex: “can you teach me how to give someone an orgasm?” “can you teach me how to perform oral?”) 

dirty talking/teasing while working a case 

training/wrestling/sparring/shooting range session that turns into sex (this is from the Titans prompt list and I'm keeping it here lmao)

them seeing you in a slutty outfit when you go undercover for a case (or you see them in a slutty outfit for a mission) 

late night semi-public sex (in a motel room with thin walls, in someone's office, etc.) where they shove a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet and make sure others don’t hear your moans 

using sex as a way to destress after a difficult case

stuck and fucked/situational bondage/predicament bondage

fake dating/you have to go undercover as a couple together

they profile your attraction to them

overstimulation

breeding kink (or faux breeding kink with a strap-on)

dumbification kink/objification 

Daddy kink or Mommy kink (their reaction to being called Daddy or Mommy for the first time)

(I could add more kinks to this and there are a lot more kinks that I enjoy writing about, but these are just the ones I thought about when making this list) 

Angst Prompts/Ideas:

Note: someone please send in some of these prompts!! I love writing angst, especially for a show as primed for angst writing as Criminal Minds.

they break up with you to keep you away from danger 

they react to you breaking up with them (or their perspective of the break-up)

attending to their injuries after a fight (or, them attending to your injuries after a fight or after you are attacked and they save you)

how they react when you are killed by an UnSub

(bonus angst points - you are killed before they can confess their feelings to you)

how they react when you are threatened by an UnSub

one of you has been brainwashed/drugged and hurts the other or completely forgets the other 

they save you from a near-death experience (or you save them) 

they confide in you during a stressful time 

them finding out you are alive after thinking you died 

being reunited after years, but you didn’t part on good terms 

"who did this to you?"

unrequited love (they see you with someone else, they think you’ll never love them back, etc.) 

(I also love doing hurt/comfort, so if you want to send me a prompt similar to this but with a sappy ending, I can do that too!)

(I didn’t put any fluff prompts because a lot of the time I am bad at writing pure fluff - I write fluff in combination with other genres. So if you have any good ideas for pure fluff send them to me and I might write them.) (Again, you don’t have to use prompts from these lists, I just think they are good examples of things that will fit the 1k-2k mark.)

[the-fiction-witch]

Emergency

Media House of Anubis

Character Jerome Clarke

Couple Jerome X Reader

Rating ADORABLE AF!

Writers notes: Hey little bats! I am on a bit of a nostalgia kick at the moment, and I watched this show when it first came out and it was... like legit my childhood. Now I'm rewatching is with friends for nostalgia so.... Yes. I'm gonna be making some jerome fic's along the way, much like the lancel fics I don't imagine these being that popular but really... I'm just doing this for funzies so if you like them I'll do more, if you don't... well... I'm sure I'll have some other stuff coming soon too.

I stood in the main lobby of Anubis house, the wood-lined walls around me, the black and red stone floor below me, and the chandelier hung from high enough it wouldn't be hit when people came down the stairs. I leant against the bannister for the stairs, my black shoes a little dirty from the rain yesterday, my grey trousers pulled up high with my hands in my pockets, my crisp white button down, my red and gold tie done up tight, my grey button down jumper buttoned up completely both my shirt and jumpers sleeves rolled up to my elbows, My green and leather messenger bag over my chest the body of my bag on my hip with my blazer hung over it.

Everyone else had gone on the way to class already, I would have gone with Alfie but he was snuggled with Amber on the walk so I'd only be a third wheel, and... I know she would be walking alone too or as a third wheel too so I always wait for her.

Well, I have other reasons for wanting to walk with her but... I did my best not to think about it knowing it would make me blush,

"You should be gone by now Mr Clarke," Victor glared as he walked down from his office,

"I'm waiting for y/n." I told him,

"Umm... well make sure you both get gone." He said as he headed elsewhere in the house,

I sighed and checked my multistrand watch, we would be late if we didn't hurry, I crossed my arms over my chest I tapped my foot impatiently, I heard the footsteps and the corner of my eyes caught the flash of red and grey. "There you are, come along little sloth girl," I laughed as I turned on my heels to look up the stairs to see her but I was taken back immediately,

Y/n shuffled and trudged down the wooden stairs, in her little black plimsolls, her grey knee-high socks at mismatched heights, her black tights, her little grey pleated skirt, her white button down not fully tucked into her skirt, her tie loose, her blazer around her, her bag over her shoulder, and her hair messy even if she did still have her spare tie as a bow in her hair, she had no makeup, her skin pale, dark rings around her eyes, her lips pale, I could tell just from looking at her she was struggling with pain, and even just at catching her breath, "Yeah... Sorry Jerome." Her voice weak and breathy, she was barely even able to get her words out.

"Christ Y/n, You're looking utterly ghostly," I chuckled trying to lighten the mood but I frowned, "Are you alright?"

"I... I may... I may be dying,"

"You're not joking with me are you?" I asked immediately concerned, "What's wrong?"

"I don't know, my head hurts my stomach hurts, I can't breathe very well, and I've been throwing up all night"

"All night!"

"Mhm," She nodded as she reached the bottom of the stairs our height difference was now obvious, as her forehead was now lined with my chin,

"Are you even able to walk?"

"Not well no..." she answered, "But I'll be okay we have that biology test today,"

"Biology tes- Y/n. Look at yourself, for Christ's sake. you're white as a ghost! I'm not going to just stand here and let you faint right in front of me,"

"I'll be okay once I get some fresh air and some structure I'll be fine"

"You need to go see the nurse."

"I don't want to be a bother..."

"You're not a bother when you're actually sick. Alfile is a bother to the nurse when he does his phoney nosebleed, Amber is a bother to the nurse when she goes in becuase she chipped her acrylics, and you y/n are actually sick."

"I'll be okay," she nodded as she tried to walk to the door but could barely walk let alone keep herself up, "I just need to get to class."

"Are you crazy? the nurse's office, now." I told her, I tried to tug her arm but that knocked her balance and sent her tumbling to the floor, I immediately froze up, stopping dead, guilt overflowing that I'd hurt her. I immediately went to my knees and looked over her "shit, Shit. Are you- are you okay!" I asked trying not to freak out!

"...Oouch..." She whined,

I sighed and checked her forehead with the back of my hand and she was beyond burning up her body shivered even if my own hand on her was shaking, "I know... you said you're dying... but I'm serious. do you feel like you're going to die?"

"I feel like I may pass out,"

"Right now or when you move?"

"When I exist."

"You're going to the nurse," I told her as I got to my feet and very carefully helped her up even if she tumbled a few times but I did my best to catch her,

"Jerome I'm-"

"You are going. I'm gonna drag you to the nurse if I have to. I am not leaving you here to die. Now... there is no way you can walk all the way there and I am concerned about leaving you alone when I fetch the nurse... So, what do we do?"

She looked down accepting I wasn't going to let her get away with his so she wrapped her arms lazily around my neck, "Carry me."

"... You uhh... You sure you want me... to do that?" I asked looking down at the top of her little head unable to hold back a smile at the thought of carrying her in my arms like her knight in shining armour,

She nodded barely able to do much more then move her head and even that was making her dizzy, I was hesitant for a moment but I picked her up as gently as I could one arm under her knees and the other around her back, her arms kept around my neck and shoulders,

"You hold on tight y/n." I told her and she nodded, "I'll take it nice and slow." I told her carefully I headed out of the dorm keeping her as steady as I could over the gravel and dirt. I couldn't help looking down at her unable to hide my worry, I kept a sturdy grip. For a moment just the image of having her laid in my arms with her head now resting against my chest was enough to make my heart skip, for a little while I just stared at her unable to hold back a smile, she was barely conscious her eyes barely open for longer then a few seconds at most, even if she's sick... she still looks adorable. She grumbled a little readjusting her face against my jumper, I shook my head and looked away trying not to smile. as it just kinda occurred to me that happily smiling while carrying a deathly ill girl in my arms may look... a bit serial killerish.

As soon as we got to school I rushed her to the nurse's office they merely needed one look at her before getting her set up on a bed, I told her everything Y/n told me about how she was feeling, how she had been acting, even if having to explain it all in words just made me even more worried vocalizing the extend of the situation my voice getting shaky as I spoke,

"Ohh My, alright, You get yourself to Class Mr Clarke, We'll make sure Miss Y/l/n gets what she needs," The nurse said clearly eager to get rid of me,

I know why but at the same time as I looked at her in that bed with the second nurse desperately looking over her with panic in the nurse's eyes, I knew... I can't do it and my emotion ran over. "Wait. No. I'm not leaving her here on her own."

"we will ensure she gets what she needs,"

"You sure she's going to be alright? can't I just stay please just let me stay with her to make sure she's okay."

"Head to class Mr Clarke, we don't have room for visitors I'm afraid, I'm sure you'll hear from her as soon as she's feeling better,"

"Are you really just going to make me leave? I'm the only one who knows about her symptoms and she's borderline comatosed, and she's in an awful state."

"Mr Clarke Please." She said,

"I need to stay with her," I begged,

"I know you're worried about her but you're going to just be in the way of things,"

"Can't you just let me stick around the hallway, Just so I'm close by but not in the way of things." I pleaded, "Please." I asked on the nerve of tears at the mere idea of leaving her alone.

"Mr Clarke. Go to class before I call Mr Sweet." The Nurse warned,

I gulped, I know that's not an ideal threat, and Mr Sweet already has it out for me, "Fine." I groaned, "But Can you please keep me updated? I can pop by after each class until she's okay."

"we'll see what we can do,"

I nodded and went to leave but I couldn't just leave, I looked back to the nurse again, "I... I really care about her okay? I'm... I'm really, really worried about her. Please, just do what you can for her as fast as possible."

"We will, Get to class, Mr Clarke."

I nodded and headed to class for the rest of the period.

I took my seat and did my best to focus but it seemed almost impossible, I could barely think straight wondering about y/n, how she was, if she was okay, I could barely keep her from my mind, I couldn't listen to the teacher say a single word, hardly wrote a word, all I did was watch the second hand on the clock praying for it to get faster so I could go and check up on her. When the sudden silence of the classroom was interrupted by a sound that froze me to my core, the sound of a siren.

Everyone in class raised their heads like prairie dogs curiously but I looked out the window my eyes locked onto the ambulance coming into the car park and up to the doors closest to the nurse's office. And I know it can only mean one thing this early in the morning...

Y/n.

I forced back my chair grabbed my stuff and darted for the door.

"Uhh Mr Clarke Sit down." The teacher demanded,

I didn't even bother to give him an answer, as I went to the door,

"Mr Clarke if you don't sit down, you'll get a detention."

"Do it Teach," I told him as I forced open the door and bolted through the empty corridors, given it was the middle of class time the halls were empty, so I could dash through the halls to the nurse's office but the bed she was in was empty, so I rushed to the front doors that were now open wide as they loaded Y/n in a bed onto the back of the ambulance, As soon as I saw her like that my heart was racing, my hands shaking, my breath shallow, I tried to get in the back with her but the paramedic threw me back.

"What are you doing kid!"

"Where are you guys taking her!?"

"what are you doing here kid this is an emergency we don't have time for this,"

"Answer me! Answer the question!" I gritted my teeth, "Where are you taking her?"

"Eastfield emergency hospital." He said,

"Emergency Hospital!"

"Why? We need to get going."

"Is she stable?!"

"Not if we don't leave now."

"Then I'm coming."

"Comin- Kid! We can't just take you with us. There's a lot of paperwork, we can't just take you out of school, there's permissions, and details, look kid we could get in a tone of trouble we can only take you if your her brother."

I grabbed his arm before he could go pleading with him, "Please! I'm not her brother, but she's really sick. and I need to be with her. She's my best friend. she practically lives with me. Please! Just let me come with you to the hospital just so I can stay with her!"

"She'll be able to contact you when things are more stable,"

"You're really going to just leave me with no idea how she is! She could be dying in there!"

"she is. That's why we need to go now."

"Then I'm coming with."

"Kid you're only preventing us from getting your friend there faster."

"You will let me come with you, you will let me climb in the back with her or I will climb on the back myself I am not going to stay here in the dark!"

"Mr Clarke Enough." Mr sweet warns as he forces me away from the man, "Return to your class immediately,"

My voice shaky, my tears welling up, "This. Is the most important thing in the entire world to me. I'm not going back to class without knowing what's going on I need to go with her."

"Take Her Now." Mr Sweet demanded as he held me by my arms forcing me to remain no matter how much I argued and pleaded with him, the paramedics closed the doors, and I saw the last image of Y/n lying deathly ill, pale, and distant, her hand hung off the bed almost lifeless as the doors where closed and they quickly left at speed.

Watching the ambulance go, knowing she was inside, my heart sank, my blood boiled, my hands shook, my vision blurring, I felt like my legs would give out, to not know if she was okay...

"Return to your class, Mr Clarke."

I turned to him my face stained with tears, forcing myself out of his grip, "Make me. Sir."

"Go. Or detention,"

"Fine."

"Go Now. Or suspension."

"I will happily take the suspension." I stared back,

"Go back to your class or you will be expelled!"

"... So be it. do your worst." I told him fixing my bag on my shoulder and making my way marching off campus to follow the ambulance to Eastfield Emergency Hospital, ignoring all the consequences, anything else I don't care.

I need to make sure Y/n is okay. 

[stressedlawsecretary]

Today's Focus

09.03.24 - I so did not want to get up and come to work today but I soothed myself by remembering it's only four days this week, and only two in office. Unfortunately for me, my hunny goes back to work next week so that leaves me back to taking public transport to and from work. I was really enjoying the shorter commute being driven in. If I worked like...on the way to where he would be going that would be different; I could get dropped off somewhere and shorten the route but frankly the train around here is more hassle than it's worth. Literally would rather take the longer bus route.

Work - Stephanie asked me on Friday to print a motion that just came in for one of her old cases, and bind it in a 3-ring for her to go over. The motion is 946 pages long. So that's what I'll be doing today lmfao.

Background Noise - So I'm back in the office which means I'm back to binging YT more steadily. Which is good because I feel like I'm fighting a losing battle with what I want to watch. I have this feeling even though I managed to get 41 videos off from Friday to Monday.

Study - Well, today is supposed to be case law day. I actually have a case pulled up on a tab already, thought it's not either of the cases I already started. But I have NO IDEA if I'm going to get to study around the work I'm doing today.

I did read some Wikipedia pages over the weekend, but I forgot the notebook I track those in so I'm guessing right now. I think I did about half a dozen between my phone and my tablet. Better than nothing, I suppose.

Extras - Tuesday, but I'm caught up on the chores and I think bathroom is next week; this leaves me free to work on more of the kitchen, which is kind of getting an overhaul and deep clean. Dinner tonight is Korean BBQ chicken skewers with mango & pineapple; I did like 10 eps of Garo over the weekend so I'm back to Shinkenger to finish it up so I can rewatch Kamen Rider W next week.

[what-gs-watching]

"If you have to ask, you're streets behind."

Welp. This week on What G's Watching: comfort shows.

Because gang, I got (somewhat surprisingly) laid off yesterday. Internal politics, blah blah blah, a lot crying, a lot of beautiful messages from coworkers, some insomnia, more crying, cleaning random things, turning my airpods up as high as they go and screaming through playlists. You get it. 

So if I thought I was watching everything before, just kidding. It's about to get so much worse. Which means, right now, I need comfort shows.

Today's comfort show highlight? Community. A pure and beautiful masterpiece.

Here's the thing: I watched Community from the beginning. Like, when it started airing weekly on NBC in 2009. From the very first episode. Because I'm ancient. I was a fan of Joel McHale from Talk Soup (oh yeah, we're going back that far) and I would have watched him in anything, so I was down for a show about a community college, hell, I'd even gone to one for a little bit.

But it's so much more than that. It's hilarious and real and way too meta for most people and all of the characters are imperfect and ridiculous and some of the plots are so dumb, but it makes you feel things. 

The overall point of the show was that Jeff was a lawyer who lied about having a bachelor's degree and got caught so he goes Greendale Community College to replace it. He lies about having a spanish study group to hook up with a blonde in his class - Britta - and ends up creating an actual study group with the help of Abed, who I'm not gonna lie, might be my favorite character. 

Group of the usual suspects, right: 

- Jeff is the handsome manipulative one (I'm still not quite sure why Joel McHale is handsome, like, its WEIRD but I'm here for it)

- Britta starts out as a chick in her late 20's who maybe got lost along the way and was trying to clean her life up and then she kind of becomes a caricature of herself later on, but it works

- Shirley's a mom going through a divorce, wanting to start her own business

- Pierce is a rich old guy that's been going to Greendale for years just for something to do (Chevy Chase returning to TV, which sounds great but then it gets weird behind the scenes)

- Abed is sweet and magical and likely on the spectrum (and the best unreliable narrator)

- Troy is a former high school football star that suffered an injury (he's Childish Gambino! Before anyone knew he was Childish Gambino! But he will ALWAYS be Troy to me)

- Annie is young and a perfectionist and a control freak who had a pill addiction that landed her there (Allison Brie becoming Allison Brie)

and it starts out as you would assume it should, but it gets unexpectedly hilarious. And I give that credit to Dan Harmon. For his flaws, Dan Harmon is a tortured genius and I will, and mostly do, watch anything that man is involved in. He puts shit in your face that you never wanted but in a way that makes you laugh out loud and then hurt a little bit, for a while. 

Honestly the charm of the show comes from the fact that it never truly takes itself seriously. Abed relates to the world through media (hi it's me, I'm the problem, it's me) and he insists time and again that they're in a tv show. Episode about everyone turning into Zombies because of tainted food at the Halloween dance? Completely plausible. 'Bottle' episode because Annie lost a pen and she can't fucking take it anymore, someone must have stolen it? Yes. Series-running story about the "Ass Crack Bandit" that drops a quarter on you when you least expect it, resulting in one of the best episodes of the later seasons? 100%. 

Abed deciding that by rolling a dice to see who goes down to get the pizza being delivered, six different timelines are being created? That one will knock you on your fucking ass. And it makes no sense, but it really, really does. 

This show has given me a lot of random things that still rattle around in my brain, even now N rewatches deep. Way back when offices were a thing, I'd once shouted "BOOKS!"when it was particularly quiet and a single engineer stood up across the room and just pointed at me, incredulous. After that he and I didn't stop terrorizing the entire team with random quotes. I still find myself humming 'Daybreak' (IYKYK). Yesterday while I muddled through my feelings I started yelling "I'm high as hell and I'm about to get SHOT!" It's infectious, it gets in your bones.  

The best part of course is the relationships, complicated but sweet and endearing. Troy and Abed form a friendship that makes me sad almost because it's childish and pure for a while and it does (what I think, I'm not an expert though so who knows) a pretty good job of portraying the bond that can come out of accepting someone on the spectrum wholly and fully. 

They build a blanket fort. They pretend to have their own morning tv show (🎶Troy and Abed in the mornnnniiiing 🎶). They dress up in coordinated Halloween costumes. They get obsessed with Inspector Spacetime (we're gonna get to Doctor Who, I promise). They spout off the best random Spanish rap and create 'Baby Boomer Santa'. They invent the Dreamatorium. They pillow fight for hours because they think if they stop, their friendship will end. 

The two of them desperately make you wish you had a friend like that in your early twenties to just get real WEIRD with, because they'd always go along with it and have your back no matter what. I still, very much, want to build a blanket slash pillow fort half as majestic. (Which, maybe I should. I have a fuck ton of time right now.)

Honestly, Community is one of those things I sometimes measure people against. Seen it and loved it? You rank a little bit higher with me. Season 4's your least favorite? it's okay bud, we all agree. You wanna use your name in poorly concocted puns? That's you're i-dean-tity, I'm with it. You found something that's streets ahead? YES. Be my best friend.

I know a lot of people feel a certain way about Friends, like, oh they're the friends everyone wishes they had, but I'm sorry. No. The friends you wish you had are the Greendale Seven. And there's too many moments and too much to go into here, but you need to trust me on that. Because they're all just flawed people trying to do better in a flawed place that manifests a little bit of the mania we all feel. And it lets you feel it, but it always wraps you up safe at the end. Jeff always brings it home with a perfect Winger speech. And sometimes I really wish life was a little bit more like that. Because sometimes we suffer a fucking gas leak year in our existence, sometimes it's like that, and it'd be nice if everyone just shrugged that off, if everyone just accepted the fact that we're all flawed, selfish people is actually a strength. 

At one point in the first season, Abed gets obsessed with "The Cape" (which was a real show, y'all) and he's skulking around in this ridiculous get-up and Jeff yells "That show's gonna last three weeks!" and while Abed runs off he yells "SIX SEASONS AND A MOVIE!"

During the show's run, #sixseasonsandamovie became a mantra, because it was always on the brink of cancellation - season six was revived by Yahoo Stream, which isn't even a thing anymore - and I still think about that when I want something to last. I want #sixseasonsandamovie for everything that I love. I want everything to have that little bit of magic and faith. 

I started my latest rewatch a couple of weeks ago, compelled to seek out the comfort for some reason, my brain trying to tell me something was wrong. My brain had been right. So yesterday I eventually climbed into bed with puffy eyes and I got back into season five. I'm already into the part where the show starts to dismantle a bit (the second half of season 5 and all of 6 are distinctly different but still perfect), and that makes sense for me right this second, it's fitting. Sometimes things fall apart. Sometimes people leave. Sometimes you have to clone yourself in a game of 'the floor is lava' so you can properly say goodbye. 

I'll finish it again in the next couple of days I'm sure, and I'll put it down for a while (until the next time my brain is trying to tell me something). But I'll be thankful I had something to turn to while I attempted to sort myself out. 

Greendale is always the perfect place to sort yourself out. 

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

mac i am so sorry to enter ur inbox with more qsmp but oh my god. qcellbit update. so he talked to bagi. his sister. he still doesn't remember her. he still needs time to process everything but she said she's waited fifteen years so she can wait a few more days. i'm crying and sobbing rn. also he doesn't even fucking remember what he did to get thrown in prison, all he knows is that he was killing people to survive one day and another he was behind bars. i'm UNWELL!!! he got called in to talk to cucurucho (the fuckin THING that's kind of the federation mascot and it tortured cellbit with a chainsaw months ago FUCK CUCURUCHO ALL MY HOMIES HATE CUCURUCHO) and he was just. fucking tired. yesterday he messed with the feds quite publicly and cucurucho questioned him about it and he said "i don't care what you do to me, you can torture me, i don't care. i just want my family back, i want a future with them. just give me peace. let me rest." HE SOUNDED SO FUCKING TIRED. I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW WHAT HE WAS SAYING UNTIL SOMEONE POSTED A TRANSLATION BUT HE SOUNDED SO SO SAD. AND NOW CELLBIT HIMSELF IS GOING TO TWITCHCON SO QCELLBIT IS TAKING A WEEK LONG DEPRESSION NAP. MAC CAN U HEAR ME. I'M UNWELL. I'M LOSING IT. THIS IS ME RN

anyway. hows ur day. i might go watch some steven universe bc i have been meaning 2 rewatch it (or adventure time!!!! one of the two for sure) take a short break from binge watching hannibal 2 watch a silly funny cartoon :3 also still trying to make my way thru marble hornets again it's just such an insane series 2 rewatch u know but i'm getting there!!! sorry i am just currently lying on the floor in my brain thinking about qsmp i had 2 tell u what happened 2 ur blorbo in law today

NEVER APOLOGIZE TO ME ABOUT PUTTING STUFF IN MY INBOX I LOVE GETTING MAIL I LOVE LEARNING THROUGH OSMOSIS I LOVE LISTENING 2 PPL TALK ATBT THINGS THEY LOVE

that sounss aboslutely DEVASTATING btw. oh my god. so the whole thing is like.. she remembers him but he doesnt remember her ?? GODDDD thats so upsetting. im glad hes getting 2 take a nap even if it is a depression one sigh. oh man oh man i love this.

my day was! good i think! i have not had a day to reat since my whole job shadow debacle last week so im kimd of running on fumes BUT . i have off work tmw so im gonna get a haircut and feel all good about everything. and maybe work on some art bc im now caught up to my pre prepped invertober images and i have a couple other time sensitive things like that. ougah. we keep truckin. ive got a huge backlog of youtube videos to watch from last week + beginning of this week i cannot Wait to get thru those and also watch more adventure time !! bc i have offically gotten to Stakes (a marcelone centric mini series) and it is one of my favorite eras ever. i love you vampire lore!!!