#let me just say this- monday will never. i repeat. NEVER. have what before has. never.

[orchidshow]

credit | @ianrkives ty for making such a cute divider!! pls go show some support

A/N | this is my first fic please be kind also sorry if its not that good lol :) i might make more if this doesn't go bad!

wordcount | 1.6k

Two Peas in a Pod | Hasanabi x Reader

Her finger clicked the mouse relentlessly as she played the clip for the tenth time that evening.

“I mean - its content. It's not necessarily bad, if you get what I mean, but it's kind of junk food content, I think most of our streams can get like that.” Hasan explains to Will as he puts the cutout of your face on the F-tier of his stream. She sees the room go silent at his statement, the sharp intake of breath from Will and an uncomfortable giggle from Austin prompting him to speak again.

“What, you act like you want me to lie or something,” Hasan jokes. She sits in silence as the clip replays and the words are mumbled in the background. The frequent ringing of her phone wasn't helping at that moment. No matter where she clicked, it was just another video talking about the clip, or a friend messaging her to see if she had seen it. It's not like she didn't care about her content. The words hurt - the hours she'd spent preparing new streams and nurturing her community had been reduced to "junk food content".

“He's a total asshole who cares what he thinks,” one of her friends complained over the phone. Each of her complaints about him tripped over another. She could see the support, but felt distanced, as if all they could hear was the repeated line about junk.

The conversation remains silent while they wait for her to speak. “Do you think what I'm doing is bad -be honest, I'm not going to cry or anything,” she murmured, pressing her knees against her arms

“No way - just because you're not sitting in a chair for nine hours a day, your content is suddenly inferior - fuck that.” Says her friend. She feels something strange - an inclination to defend him, a part of her - a tiny part that believes he didn’t mean it - urging her to say no. She wasn't naïve, she and Hasan weren't close by any means, sure, they'd worked together before and it went well, but it was just that, a collaboration. Apart from streaming, she had never texted Hasan or called him.

A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she said, “I’ll just let it go - I mean, I’m going to Turkey with Will next week and that's the last thing I need right now.” Her phone rang incessantly; fan accounts came to her rescue, berating Hasan in the worst possible way. Other creators had sent her messages asking her to come on stream and explain her side. She knew they were trying to get somewhere, pushing her, goading her to make a statement about something she didn't want to talk about. She ended the call before turning her phone off completely.

The next week dragged on. The next day she had come up with a bullshit excuse about having food poisoning. In reality, she didn't feel like streaming. She didn't want to read the walls of her chat asking for a reply, it was humiliating, she thought.

When the next Monday had come, she found herself in the airport, eyes searching for Will. The place was full of atmosphere as she clutched her boarding pass tighter. As her eyes fell on Will walking towards her, she noticed a towering figure looming behind him.

Hasan is here.

His hair peeked through his cap, unruly strands creeping underneath. His eyes fixed on hers, and she noticed something in them - regret? Guilt? It was too early to worry about that. When Will meets her, she looks at him in frustration as her gaze flickers back and forth between Hasan and Will.

“ I’m just as surprised about this as you are, okay?” Will declares anxiously. She sighs in exasperation as she grabs her bags and makes her way to the plane.

The journey has been nothing less than painful.

She puts on her headphones and selects the loudest setting to hopefully distract herself from the situation. Her hopes are dashed when she feels a tap against her shoulder. Hoping it was a curious toddler or a perverted old man, she turns around and sees Hasan.

“Listen - about the ranking thing, I just wanted to say-” Hasan stammers, before putting her headphones back on. The silence between the two of them continued throughout the flight. She could feel his eyes boring into her whenever she rose from her seat. ‘I am here with Will, I am not going to entertain him," she repeats to herself like a hopeful mantra.

When the flight landed, Turkey was simply beautiful. Will and her (and Hasan) immersed themselves in the popular tourist spots and markets. On the stream, everything looked perfect, they could joke with each other and it looked like they were all getting on well. But as soon as they left the stream, things took a turn for the worse.

Every time Hasan tried to start a conversation with her, she reacted quickly and indifferently. Several times he found himself leaning over her and trying to talk to her, but she only responded by running away. The fans had got wind of it. Videos kept popping up on the internet showing her and Hasan off camera, walking away in the turkey. People suspected that the argument had got worse and wondered when she would speak to him.

On the fifth day she was exhausted. The hours of trying to keep up appearances and pretend she didn't want to rip his head off were beginning to wear on her. When the stream was over, she walked away from the group, texted Will so he wouldn't worry, and went to a dimly lit bar on a side street.

She was tired of feeling feelings and pretending she didn't feel them. As the minutes turned into hours, she got drunker and drunker.

As she left the bar, her legs walked unsteadily and cautiously while her head spun incessantly. She found herself on the steps of a cobbled street, felt all her emotions welling up inside her and began to sob. She lost track of time as her head rested in her hands and the tears fell uncontrollably.

“Where the hell have you been?” Hasan asked in a voice that resonated with anger and relief. She takes her head out of his hands and waves him away.

“Listen - you don't have to play nice with me, I can take care of myself,” she slurs, staring at the ground next to Hasan's feet.

“...And you handle yourself by crying in public in front of a sleazy bar?” he asks sarcastically.

“...fuck you,” she replies drunkenly.

He mumbles something before shaking off his jacket and putting it over her shoulders. “Let's go back to the hotel,” he urges her as he grabs her by the arm and tries to get her to stand up.

“Dude - you do not have to pretend to care, it's fine,” she spits out gruffly, shaking his grip. Hasan’s chest tightens, guilt flooding his body as he struggles for words.

“I am sorry, if I could, I'd take back what I said,” he says, his voice barely higher than a whisper.

 “It's a bit late for that - you said it and everyone saw it,” she scoffs, pushing herself off the cobbles and making her way back to the hotel. Strong arms wrap around her legs as Hasan lifts her up and throws her over his shoulders.

“If we walk, it’ll take you all night,” he says as his grip tightens around her waist. It was eerily quiet on the way back to the hotel. Neither of them knew where they stood. They knew boundaries had been crossed and feelings had been hurt, but they did not know what to do next. As the lights from the hotel sign illuminated their bodies, Hasan's sniffling became more apparent to her. He was crying.

 “I am really sorry, I was not thinking - I can not imagine how much shit I put you through,” he chokes out as he sets her down on the lobby floor. Her eyes stay in contact, her gaze feels lighter, almost as if she trusts him. Hasan leads her to her room, lets her in and sits on the edge of the bed.

“Don’ go...” she slurs, wrapping her arms tightly around his body.

“I won't,” he replies gently; he feels her body snuggle against him, her eyes grow heavy and begin to close. He pulls her closer to him and lets her rest against his body. As the night wore on, they both fell asleep. Hasan had cuddled her to his chest in the morning and breathed in the soft scent of her perfume.

When she woke up, the sunlight was streaming through the curtains, bathing his face in a soft light. She felt lighter, as if the energy had completely shifted. The realisation that she was so close to him made her stagger backwards and fall off the bed in a tangle of blankets. A heavy moan from her woke Hasan and made him look over the side of the bed.

“Did we…?” she asked, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

 “No, no, we just fell asleep,” he reassures her, his morning voice echoing through the room. She pushes herself off the floor, claws her way back onto the bed and sits down awkwardly.

“So… Junk food content, huh?” she explains with a grin. Hasan nudges her cheekily and enjoys her giggles. The heaviness between them had disappeared. For the first time, it felt intimate between them, bigger than a collaboration or a friendship.

[mastermindmiko]

Congrats! You're a heart breaker

an: the title will make sense when you read

Pairing: Bill Weasley + fem!reader

Word count: 1933

Summary: You're in love with Bill, unfortunately, Bill's engaged to Fleur

Warnings: Fights, Cheating, Shouting, that's it?

Hey! If you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist.

Requests are open

His entire family is beaming around him, and my heart sinks deeper and deeper, as Fleur shows off the engagement ring she has on her finger. Molly and Ginny are less than pleased to have him marry fleur, but they're still excited.

A hand gets placed on my shoulder, and my grip around my cup tightens in surprise. I look to my side and there's Percy standing beside me. He squeezes my shoulder in support and asks, "Are you alright?"

"I will be." I reply and give him a weak smile. I look back at them and I can't seem to look away. He doesn't even notice that I'm here, and it makes sense, to him I'm only his younger brother's friend.

"Let's go somewhere." Percy says, like he does whenever I get sad. I let him lead me away up to his room. He closes the door behind us and I feel safe enough to let my eyes water. I sit on the bed and grab my blanket that he has stored for me under his bed.

Percy sits beside me and he holds my hand in support. He waves his wand and it brings over a box filled with books. Percy calls it 'the safety box' . It's filled with the books that bring me and Percy comfort and support, whenever one of us feels sad, we grab a book and start reading, the familiar characters fill us with a small sense of joy.

We started the box when Percy fought with his family and he found himself needing more comfort than usual. I never agreed with the whole disagreement, but I had to help my best friend. Eventually, after I gave him a stern talking to, and a couple break downs, he apologized to his family. Molly practically worshiped me the week after he came back.

I pick up one of my favorite books, and he hums in agreement. I grab one of the bookmarks that Percy has on his nightstand and shove it in the first page of the book. He squeezes my hand and says, "I don't think it's going to last."

"Why's that?"

"He doesn't love her." Percy says, and I bitterly chuckle, why would he be engaged to her if he didn't love her? Percy continues, "Bill's a bit like Ron, they're a bit dim when it comes to these types of things."

"And like you." I add, and Percy looks at me confused. I huff, incredulously and say, "Penelope had to give you obvious signs for three months before you noticed anything, and even when you did you couldn't get it through your thick skull. She had to ask you out!"

"That was one time!" Percy complains, and I laugh, "I could name the right if you like."

The door opens and Bill stands there. I wonder how he so easily got away from his family. He looks straight at Percy and then says, "We've been looking for you."

Bill's eyes flicker to Percy's hand that is joined to mine then looks back at his brother. He doesn't spare me a glance, as he turns around to leave, but not before adding, "Come on."

Percy stands and points to the door with his other hand, awkwardly, and repeats, "They're looking for me."

"Go, I'll just stay here for a while." I say, and give him a weak smile, I don't know why I try anymore, Percy already knows that it's fake. He clears his mouth and reluctantly goes to the door. He gives me one more look as if making sure that I'm safe, then shuts the door softly behind him.

I huff and lean back on the bed. This is what happens when you've had the same crush on the same stupid guy since first year.

~~~

I reluctantly went to work next Monday. The ministry has been on edge since the war's started, but it's gotten even worse after Dumbledore died. I worked on training the new Aurors, but not by going on field missions, but by giving them tasks to do, and things to learn.

It was boring most of the time, but I liked working with other people, and helping them reach their dreams of catching dark wizards. This wasn't originally the job I wanted, and I was so close to reaching my dream, but to me, staying home was my priority. I wonder what could've changed if I had gone to Egypt to be a curse breaker.

The worst part of the job was no doubt, the paper work. There was always heaps of it to get done and not enough time to do it. My feet dragged as I went to the office where I do the paper work, instead of the training room where I get to teach Aurors defensive spells.

I'm on the elevator when I notice that there's only few minutes before I'm supposed to be at my office. My boss was unfortunately, Nott Sr., who was not only a tough boss, but a boss was a sexist. He would do anything to get all the women in his department fired, so if I'm late, who knows what'll happen to me.

I bump into someone on my way to the office. I get steadied by two strong hands that feels familiar and I look up to find Bill looking at me. I can't move an inch, with the feelin of both his palms on my skin, it feels as if they're burning me, but I can't move.

"You didn't talk to me the other night." he clears his throat, and I avoid his gaze, I couldn't exactly do that with Fleur hanging off his arm, and I didn't want to either. I reply, shortly, "You were busy."

"Right." He replies, and I really don't know what to say. I look around and I see women eyeing Bill, like they've always had. Bill's attractive, I can't recall a time when he wasn't. We all fancied him when we were third years, but as soon as he graduated, everyone stopped, I didn't.

"Isn't this wonderful?" I hear someone say from behind me, and we turn to find Mr. Diggory coming towards us excitedly. Bill still has an arm on mine when Mr. Diggory comes to us. He grabs Bill's free hand and shakes it, excitedly, "Congratulations! Arthur told me this morning. It's such wonderful news."

Bill smiles awkwardly and thanks the man. Mr. Diggory looks at Bill's hand on my arm which has his engagement ring. I move away from him, as if I couldn't stand having that ring anywhere near me. Mr. Diggory looks between us and his eyes snap to my hand. He looks at me concerned, and says, "My dear, I think you've misplaced your ring! It's only been so song since you've had it!"

I flush a bright red and start to fumble trying to explain to the older man that I wasn't engaged to Bill, despite how much I wanted to be. Bill steps in, and says. "Oh! I'm not- she's not- I'm engaged to Fleur Delacour, sir. Y/N's just a friend."

"I'm one of Percy's closest friends." I interrupt. I've never been Bill's friend and I don't think I ever will be. I give Mr. Diggory a smile. I fix my bag over my shoulder, and excuse myself politely. I walk away, and notice, the clock once again. I groan, I wasn't going to enjoy the talk that Nott was going to give me.

I didn't bother walking faster anyway. I remember what Bill said, and I scoff at his words. When have I ever gave the impression that I was his friend?

~~~

I don't expect to see Bill again until I go to the Burrow once again, but the next day, I find him at the ministry. He was talking to someone, but when he catches me walking, he pauses his conversation and jogs towards me.

I try to rush past him, but he stands in front of me to stop me. I say, "I have class, and I need to go right now."

"You're class starts in ten minutes you have time." Bill says, and rolls his eyes at my antics. I huff and fold my arms over my chest. I look at him with a quirked eyebrow waiting for him to say what he wanted. He avoids my sharp gaze and he fumbles.

"You-you look good today." He stutters and it's my turn to roll my eyes. If it were only a few months ago, I would've jumped up and down at the words. I snap, "What do you want Bill? Why are you here? You don't work here."

"I'm finishing up some things for Gringotts." He says, and I frown, Gringotts, the god forsaken place where everything went to hell. The place he met Fleur. I say, "If you don't have anything to say, let me pass."

"I don't want us to be like this." Bill says, and I don't feel myself getting sad, instead I feel myself getting angry. I hiss, "Are you still engaged, Bill?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then this is how it's going to be." I huff, and walk past him. Onlookers are starting to pay attention to our conversation, and Bill notices. He pulls me off to the side into a secluded area near the toilets where he starts, "It doesn't have to-"

"Bill, leave me alone. Don't talk to me unless it's something Percy related. That's the only way we know each other." I say, and Bill says, "But I don't want it to be that way."

"Can't you understand that talking to you while seeing that stupid ring on your finger is killing me?!" I shout, and I feel my eyes tear up. I lean against the wall, and look away from him. I blink away the tears. I say, "Do you understand how it feels? How I feel?"

Bill doesn't say anything, so I continue to ramble, "I've liked you for forever Bill, and when I went to Egypt, we had fun. I even thought you feel in love with me, like I did with you. You tried to kiss me then ignored me, and I was an idiot to go to you and tell you that I loved you. I don't hear from you for months, and the next time I see you, you're with your family telling them that you got engaged!"

I rub my hands over my face, and wipe away the one tear that fell against my will. My mascara must be ruined. I sniffle and say, "So excuse me, if I don't want to be your friend."

"Wait!" Bill says, before I open the girl's toilets to escape when. I open the door with Bill behind me and we both stand transfixed at the sight inside. I gasp, and that alerts both, Fleur and Roger.

I had no idea that Fleur was here, Percy told me that she was going to France to her parents for a week. Turns out, Parents is code for Roger Davies. Fleur gasps, and pushes Roger away. Bill looks angry, and I take that as my sign to head to my class.

~~~

"The engagement is off." Percy tells me when he enters the flat. I hum in acknowledgement, looking at the set of papers in my hand that were the official grades of everyone in the class, these were the papers that would say if they were going to be Aurors or not.

"Don't you want to go talk to him?" Percy says, and I look up to see Percy shifting from foot to foot in front of me. I narrow my eyes at him, and I bite the insides of my cheeks, and said, "No."

"Too bad." Percy says and as I'm about to inquire about the weird sentence, Bill enters the flat. Percy heads out before Bill can close the door to give us some privacy. I stand up to go to my room, but Bill rushes to talk a hold of my wrist.

"I'm sorry."

Bill was never good at giving heart felt conversations or saying what he was feeling at least to me. He takes a step closer and I look away from him. He takes a hold of my chin in between his fingers, and makes me look at him. My heart skips several beats, and it reminds me of when he almost kissed me. The pleasant feeling leaves me and a bitter one takes it's place.

"I'm sorry that I was an idiot when I didn't kiss you that night." Bill says, and it all comes back to me. That night, I was about to finish my training as a curse breaker and they gave me my acceptance. I was going to work in Egypt, but decided against it. My life was here. I told him and I remember it very clearly.

He had a cake made with the words 'Congrats! You're an official curse breaker' on it. It made me telling him even harder but I did. He shrugged his shoulder like it was no big deal, but I could tell that he didn't want me to leave. The year I spent with him there was one of the happiest times of my life because my crush turned into love that I thought was reciprocated. He hugged me goodbye and when we parted he looked at me like he had something to say. Instead, he grabbed my chin the way he was doing now, and tried to kiss me. He stopped before our lips touched, and left.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you I loved you back when you told me." He added. The morning after, I was about to leave for London, and I told him that I loved him. He apologized and left. Bill's hand moved to my cheek to cup it. He says, "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you for months, but I had to."

"Why?" I croak out, my voice heavy with emotion. He rubs his thumb over my cheek, soothingly, and answers, "We were going to be apart. We couldn't have a relationship like that, it would've been easier to get over you, if I didn't talk to you."

"And when you came back. What stopped you? Why did you propose to Fleur?" I ask, one question after the other, and he replies, "I couldn't be with you. I wouldn't do that Percy."

"What do you mean?" I ask, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He smiles, sadly and says, "Percy told me that he liked you, a while ago. I couldn't be with you when my brother liked you."

"A while ago? You mean..." I trail off, thinking if there were any signs of Percy liking me. I have a revelation and I hit his arm. I shout, "You broke my heart because Percy told you he liked me when we were in third year!"

"Ow! Ow! stop, he already gave me enough of that himself!" Bill complained, and moved away from my arms that were hitting him, aggressively. He help both my wrists to stop me, and he looked into my eyes, and said, "I'm sorry."

"You're going to have to make it up to me." I say, pointedly. He nods his head. He says, "I'm going to make it up to you, and heal that broken heart of yours. What's the first order of business?"

"Finally kissing me."

[janeyseymour]

La Cosa Nostra- pt 9

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8.

Cowritten with @schemmentis

Summary: You go visit someone... without Melissa.

WC: ~2.25k

Monday morning rolls around, and when you feel two little hands on your face once again (is that really the only way your girls know how to wake someone up?), you groan out. Your head is pounding, your back aches from falling asleep on the couch, and your wife is half on top of you, her chin digging into your neck.

“Mam!�� Cat whisper shouts into your ear. Oh, so they do know another way to wake someone up. “Mam!”

“Wake Mommy,” you grumble as you keep your eyes closed.

“But I want you!” your little girl pouts. 

“I want Mommy though,” Rosie whispers as she gently shakes your wife’s shoulder. Why does Melissa get the gentle twin this morning?

Melissa peels her eyes open and smiles softly at your younger twin. “Hey, baby girl. Mommy’s awake. Why don’t you two go start picking out your outfits for school while Mam and I get up?”

The two scurry off with giggles, thrilled to be in charge of their own outfits on this Monday morning. Your wife maneuvers her way off of you before kissing you gently. You kiss her back before groaning.

“I’ll grab the Advil,” she tells you on her way to the kitchen. You stretch once she’s out of the room, heave yourself off of the couch, and follow in her direction. She’s already pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator to make breakfast, and you snake your arms around her waist sleepily.

“I’ll get the girls to school,” you tell her softly. “You just worry about your restaurant today.”

“I can help,” she protests.

“You haven’t been at Twelve Tables for a few days now,” you tell her. “I apparently don’t have a business anymore, so at least let me feel like I’m useful and contributing to the family by taking care of the twins.”

Melissa turns in your arms, and she gives you a sad look. “You are useful, and you do contribute to-” She halts her sentence when she sees what Rosie comes into the kitchen wearing. “Little miss, you cannot wear that to school.” 

You release your wife and turn to see your little girl wearing one of your tee shirts, specifically the tee shirt of yours that says ‘Corona’ on it. You have to bite back a chuckle.

“But I wanna be like Mam!” Rosie stomps her barefoot against the tile.

Then Cat comes out, and she’s wearing one of Melissa’s shirts. That one has the letters ‘MILF’ printed on it- a gag gift you got for your wife when the girls were born.

The redhead smacks her forehead. “Good lord.”

At that one, you fully let out a belly laugh. “Is it dress like Moms day?” you ask.

Both girls nod with urgency.

“If you want to be useful, find them better shirts of ours to wear to school today,” your wife instructs as she runs a hand over her face.

By some grace of God, you convince them to change into more school appropriate shirts of yours and Melissa’s, and by the time you’re ushering them to the door, your wife is just slipping on her shoes. 

“You look beautiful,” you whisper as you kiss her gently.

“Such a charmer,” she rolls her eyes, but she does kiss you back.

“Moms! Stop kissing!” Rosie groans as she grabs her backpack. “That’s cooties!”

“Cooties.” You repeat, leaning down to kiss your youngest twin’s cheeks. “Now you have cooties, lovey.”

You laugh as she dramatically wipes her cheeks with both little hands as you usher the girls out the door.

You see the girls safely to school, lingering just a little longer than you normally would in saying goodbye to them. You loiter for a minute in the hallway, looking through the classroom doorway at them greeting their little friends and instantly jumping into some game only kids can properly understand. You smile, relieved at least that your girls’ lives are peaceful and exactly like childhood should be- with no idea of what’s going on. You hope they never know. When they get older, they’ll surely gain some idea of the life you lead; your wife, too. They’re already too smart for their own good. It will only get worse as they age. You blame Melissa in your mind for having such brains.

You force yourself to get back to her at the thought as she waits in the car, before she can worry you’re taking too long. The plus side of owning a business; you’re technically never late. Except you know Melissa will feel like she’s late anyway. You hold her hand the whole drive to Twelve Tables.

“Pick me up before you get the girls from school?” She asks as she unbuckles her seatbelt.

“You sure that’s enough time for everything you want to get done?”

She smiles at you as she leans across the console. “Considerin’ you called in backup and Val was directing everythin’, I think it’ll be fine. Trust the people that are there for you, huh?” She murmurs before kissing you goodbye. “You taught me that one.” She winks before she climbs out of the car and disappears into the back entrance of the restaurant.

You sigh as you sit in the car, idling at the back of Twelve Tables. You have no idea what to do with yourself. You’re used to running around at the salon; taking care of clients. If you aren’t taking care of clients, then you’re making sure those that work for you are and everything is running smoothly. The occasional visit from someone in the family is handled in your back office.

Now, you have hours to kill with nothing to worry about. Except, actually… you have everything to worry about. They’ve put Tony in charge. You still own the salon, on paper, but for them to make this kind of move; it’s bad. They don’t trust you- at least not as much as they used to. They didn’t even put you in charge like this when Bobby was on his way out.

You put the car in drive, pulling out of Melissa’s restaurant’s lot. You turn right, directing the car towards the outskirts of town; and out of it. You have hours to kill. You may as well make the most of it.

You drive the backroads- open fields and farmhouses. Little neighborhoods or small towns you pass through have nothing more than one stop light. If that. Most of the time you just have a stop sign at a four way stop. Your wife might be upset later that you didn’t bring her with you. Or maybe she’ll understand. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen Mickey; just you. It’s always a family affair to visit him. At least you and Melissa. 

You hope seeing him will set something at ease- like he’ll remind you this isn’t you getting picked over or played. He’ll tell you that it’s just temporary. Mickey, after all, is paying the big price for the family. Time on the inside- his freedom in exchange for everything the family stands for. Maybe he can remind you why you chose this life. Why do you keep choosing it now? The only answer you have is to keep those you love safe. 

There is only one real way out of the life. You might be okay if it affected only you. But you know it doesn’t. You push the image of Melissa and the girls in the church you attend on Sundays with Barb from your mind as you pull into the visitor’s parking lot of the penitentiary. Except they’re in all black, with a funeral procession with your casket down the aisle. You can envision the way that Melissa’s makeup runs down her face and her eyes are bloodshot as she clings to the girls like it’s the only thing that’s keeping her tied to this world. That’s the only way out. You don’t want your wife and girls to ever have to go through that, but it might just be what fate has in store for you. Still, while you have whatever time you do left on this earth, you’ll fight for them. That’s why you keep choosing this life, even though every day makes you question the worth of it more and more.

Mickey grabs you up in a bear hug when you walk into the visitation room. “Hey, Y/N! I wasn't expectin’ a visit for awhile yet. How ya doin'?”

Reluctantly, you fill Mickey in on the recent events. He doesn't interrupt you or interject with his own thoughts. He just listens, elbows set on the table that separates the two of you while you speak in a hushed tone.

When you finish telling him how Uncle Dom has taken you off the salon, and put Tony in, Mickey laughs. “Tony? Tony aint gonna turn a profit in that place. ‘Specially not without the side gig. But even with it…” Mickey shakes his head. “That's rough. I'm sorry, Y/N. I know how much that place means to ya.”

“It don’t even matter that much to me anymore,” you sigh. “But it’s a big source of income for us to spoil Cat and Rosie, and… I don’t know, Mick.”

You look across the table at Mickey. He's older than when you last saw him. He looks it, like the past four and a half years have aged him at least ten. He'd been in his early twenties when he was convicted. You never noticed in all your other visits to him how much he was changing, being too busy with focusing on keeping your twins near you and your wife or quiet to not interrupt other visits. Or on the occasions it was just you and Mel; too busy listening and occasionally refereeing the silly squabbles he and your wife would get into. 

Mickey has gained a fair bit of muscle. He wasn't scrawny when he went in, but he wasn't buff like he is now. He's letting the stubble on his face try to turn into a beard. His eyes, the same color as your wife's, look weary- about as weary as you feel.

“You regret it?” You ask softly. “Paying this price? Bein’ in here?”

Mickey looks back at you. He’s quiet for a long moment as he truly considers what you're asking. The look on his face says it isn't the first time he's thought about it. 

Finally, he shakes his head. “No. I don't. If it weren't me, it'd be somebody else, y'know? There's always another body, huh? Another Tony to put in a spot in place of somebody.” He smiles wryly at you. “I'd rather it be me.”

“But why?” You can't help but ask. “Why you? You could be at home for Sunday dinners, seeing the twins whenever. So much other shit.”

“Hey, don't get me wrong, I miss all that. I miss Ma's cooking. I miss pissing my sisters off almost more than I think I miss Ma’s cookin’. I think about the girls all the time- all the birthdays and special stuff I missed. But…” Mickey presses an index finger to the table. “Because I'm here, I know youse are all safe out there. Maybe not from everythin’ in this shit world, but from this. I'd take the fall a hundred more times if it meant keeping you, my sisters, my nieces, Ma, and everybody else out and happy.”

“I almost turned myself over. For the salon.” You whisper. This was the first you've said it out loud other than when broaching the topic with Sammy. Melissa doesn't even know.

Instead of surprise or shock; Mickey nods with a knowing look. “Yeah. You would thinka that.” He smiles, lightly tapping your hand. “Thats why I'm the second Schemmenti you'd marry, huh? We think alike. That and you’d probably strangle Kristen Marie if ya married her.”

In spite of yourself and how you feel, you laugh. “Nah. Mel would strangle me first if I even thought about gettin’ with Kristen Marie, even if we were divorced.”

“Look,” Mickey says, straightening suddenly. You're doin’ what ya can. You’re there for the twins, you have Melissa through all of this, and I’m sure she’s well aware of that. That's what counts. Sometimes this family shit….it's fucked up. But that's when you gotta remember who you really do it for. I aint in here for Uncle Dom or anybody else. I'm in here for my family. If it makes the rest of ‘em happy; that's just collateral.”

“You're readin’ too many books in here. You didn't use to be this smart.”

“I don’t got much else to do,” Mickey shrugs. “I could join a prison gang and make toilet wine, or I could try to better myself so that when I do get out, I don’t end up back in this shithole.”

“No gangs, Mickey.” You say quickly as you get up to hug him. “I don't need to keep Mel from breaking in here just to kick your ass for stupid decisions.”

“Ah, you're right. She's gotta keep you from those on the outside.” He teases with a smile before he hugs you just as tightly when you arrived.

You're almost out of the visitor's room when you hear Mickey again.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You turn to see him with one of the corrections officers right behind him, ready to walk him back. 

“Take care of yourself, huh, kid? My sister needs you. Don't let her down.”

Tags: @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld

[ddejavvu]

omfg imagine fairy reader getting off rubbing on Aaron’s finger or idk something bc she’s so tiny

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Damn Aaron for being so attentive. You know that's his job, he's told you before that he has to stay vigilant, that he notices little things because it could save his life one day, but all it's done today is embarrass you. You'd been trying to muffle your moans with one of his t-shirts, buried in the fabric in the drawer he'd set up for you, but it wasn't working.

"Y/N?" He calls, and your eyes blow wide open from where you're nestled in his dresser drawer, "Hey, where are you? Are you alright?"

You don't answer at first, barely breathing to keep silent. But he doesn't let up, and you can hear his footsteps trekking to the bed, "Y/N? What's going on, sweetheart? Can you hear me?"

The next time he says your name it's louder, like he'd assumed the answer to his last question was no. You feel guilty about the concern in his voice, mouth dry as you finally respond, "I'm okay, Aaron."

You hear him freeze, then he realizes you're in the drawer and he's on it in seconds. Light spills into the previously dark space, and you make sure that all he can see is your head popping out from the fabric of his shirt.

"Hi," You smile sheepishly, face on fire as the one below your belly begs for attention. You definitely look strange, wide-eyed and half-buried in a shirt, but you don't think Aaron's figured out why yet.

"Hi," He hums, a neutral frown tight on his face. He's studying you, you realize, and you try to loosen up.

"I was trying to get a nap in," You explain, "I figured your bed would be too big for me all alone."

"I see," Aaron nods, "And you were... having a nightmare?"

"What?"

"You were crying," Aaron reminds you, "Or- or whining, or groaning, or-"

"I wasn't-" You rush to stop him, and something twitches in his left eye. His mouth hangs open with the hint of his next word but it never comes, and he nods slowly, just once.

"Oh."

"Aaron, I-" You wish you could sit up, flutter over to his face and make up some scattered excuse as to what was really happening, but if you do, he'll see your very naked form, "Not, like- I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine." He assures you, already making to close the drawer again, "I'll... leave you to it."

"No!" You rush to catch his hand, current state of dress forgotten, and when you catch his finger, the shirt falls off of you. There you stand- er, hover, thighs pressed together and chest on display.

"Don't go," You beg, and Aaron freezes up. He can't shut the drawer anymore, not unless he wants to squish you, and you've got a good grip on his finger.

"It's okay," He hums, worried you'll think he's judging you, "Really, everyone- uh, everyone does it. I just didn't think about it before I came in. But it's okay, I promise. I'm not upset or anything like that."

"No," You whimper, clutching tighter still at his hand, "I'm- I need, uh, help."

You're clutching so tight to Aaron's finger that you can feel it tense up.

"Help," He repeats cautiously, and you nod, nervous tears pricking at your eyes.

"I- I just," You stammer, heartbeat so loud it's in your ears, "I can't.. finish. And I don't know what to do, and I thought that if you helped me-"

"I shouldn't," Aaron hums sympathetically, "I- I don't want you to get attached to me like that. Not because I helped you."

"That's not why I want your help," You promise, wings fluttering to give you a little more air in the drawer. You hover straight onto his palm, using most of your willpower not to jump him right then and there, "I like you, Aaron. And I'd like you even if you hadn't helped me. We wouldn't have met," You realize, "But- but that's not the point! The point is, I need help, and I want it from you."

He takes a moment to consider, then his thumb curves up from where it had been flat beside the rest of his fingers to brush over your outstretched calves. Your breath hitches at the gentle touch he administers, and he keeps a close watch on your reaction.

"Are you sure?" He asks, and you've never nodded more vigorously.

"I'm sure," You scramble to your knees as Aaron curls his pointer finger in towards you. You appreciate the fact that he keeps his nails trimmed well, and he watches with a tight chest as you flip yourself onto your back. You lay with your head against his wrist, hands gripping his bent thumb for stability. It means that his pointer finger, when curled just right, brushes over your leaking slit, and you jolt in his palm.

"You okay?" He pauses, but you nod, "Yes! Yes, I'm okay, I'm- Aaron, please, keep going."

"Okay," He hums, experimentally pushing his finger against your slit. You're already slicked open from your previous activities, so he doesn't have trouble wetting the tip of his finger, but the stretch of his pointer finger is tantalizingly blissful as you writhe in his palm.

"Aaron, I need-" You pant, gripping his thumb like a lifeline, "I need more! More, please!"

"Shh," He soothes, rubbing his thumb down your side as he pushes his thumb further into your cunt, "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll take care of you."

[orangepanic]

okay based off that bad sex meme Irohsami sex interrupted by a phone call and Asami just casually takes the call and discusses future industry stocks while Iroh is sitting there still hot to go and shocked like:

anyway i hope this made you laugh

Welp.

He's just slipped her panties off when the telephone by the bed jangles to life. Iroh can't for the life of him understand why anyone needs a telephone in their bedroom, where its seemingly only purpose is to disturb either sleep or other private activities, so he's even more shocked when Asami scoots up the bed, rolls over, and actually answers it.

"Hello?" Iroh has noticed how she never gives out her name at first. "Oh, yes, thank you. Yes, now is fine." She covers the receiver and throws him an apologetic look before mouthing the word sorry.

Iroh gazes from her smudged lipstick down past the waves of long black hair cascading over her open shirt to the appealing dark patch between her legs. His own shorts strain against him. Iroh wears nothing else. Because they'd been rather in the middle of something, hadn't they?

"Five-fifty," Asami says, as if repeating what her caller has told her. "What about on the Ba Sing Se exchange? They're ahead." Iroh runs a thumb experimentally over her ankle and the corner of her mouth twitches into a smile. "Alright, that's what I expected," she says into the receiver. "Can you give me the averages?"

With that small victory Iroh moves his hand further up Asami's leg. Her pale calf is cool beneath his palm. She's told him she loves how hot his skin feels to the touch but he's never admitted the inverse is also true. When he gets to her knee he makes another little circle with his thumb, this time adding some heat. Asami cocks an eyebrow at him. What are you doing? she mouths.

Iroh tugs a little at her knee. Just a little. She has every right to say no, to send him packing with shattered hopes and aching balls, but she doesn't. Instead she shifts her hips and lets him gently part her legs.

"We need to get it back up to seven at least by the end of the month," Asami says as Iroh presses his lips to the soft skin beside her knee, "ideally more. I'm not concerned, not yet. We" -- her breathing hitches when he nibbles the inside of her thigh -- "we have the second quarter earnings out on Monday."

Iroh takes his time, and is rewarded with the feel of Asami's free hand in his hair. She's not pulling him to her but almost. Nothing turns him on so much as being wanted yet this, this is something else. It almost feels like a challenge. The taste of her isn't nearly as sweet as the change in her voice on the telephone. Maybe her caller can tell, maybe they can't, but Iroh can. Her tone is high, breathy, with too many pauses. Asami usually speaks with such confidence.

"Then the Board will just ah um have to wait," she gasps into the telephone. "Along with... with... with everyone else." A pause. Iroh can feel her trembling. Her hips twitch with need. "Really. Will be. Fine."

She comes perhaps four seconds after she hangs up and Iroh thinks she might tear holes in the sheets. It's all he can do to stay with her, keeping it up as she rides out the wave shouting his name. Only when he's sure that she's finished does he relent.

The scene before him is beautiful. Asami lays on the bed red-faced and wrecked, her gorgeous green eyes blown wide. "You..." she pants, seemingly unable to finish the sentence.

Iroh grins. "I'd never abandon a mission."

Asami pulls her legs together and scoots to the side. Her mouth has a mischievous look that he doesn't like. "You," she repeats, nodding her chin to the bedside table, "go call your mother."

[hlficlibrary]

HL FIC LIBRARY ✤ AUTHOR REC

AO3: crinkle-eyed-boo

Tumblr: @crinkle-eyed-boo

STATS:

✤ Number of fics: 11

✤ Posting Since: 2018

TOP 5 FICS:

1️⃣ Mine Would Be You {E, 114k}

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

2️⃣ Own the Scars {E, 144k}

“But I don’t belong here,” Louis insists. “Why do you say that?” James asks. “These people are all drug addicts and alcoholics,” Louis shrugs. Something sparks in James’ eyes. “And you’re not?”

Louis has never felt like he was good enough: for his stepdad, for his life-long best friend, for the life he's supposed to want. After an accident that nearly costs him his life, Louis' parents send him to rehab where he’s forced to face his demons. On the long and difficult road to recovery, Louis must confront the truths he’s been avoiding about his future, his relationships, and his sense of self-worth. Because before he can love anyone else, he’s got to learn how to love himself first.

3️⃣ No Bunny But You {E, 13k}

“So you saw the bunnies then?” Harry clarifies, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah, those were a bit of a surprise,” Liam huffs. “I mean, they definitely weren’t part of what we commissioned from him, but they’re kind of cute, right?” Harry sputters a laugh. “What?” Liam asks, the furrow in his brow deepening. “They are cute little bunnies!” “Cute little bunnies that are fucking,” Harry snickers. “What?” Liam gasps. “Liam,” Harry says, trying to school his face into a serious expression. “Those bunnies are fucking.”

A slow Monday night behind the bar turns into something else entirely thanks to a new mural and a new customer.

4️⃣ Let Our Hearts Collide {M, 76k}

“Liam is in a coma.” “Yeah, we can see that,” the father says, throwing his hands in the air. “God, this is the most depressing Christmas ever,” the blonde sister mutters. “His vital signs are strong,” Dr. Higgins assures them. “Brain waves are good–” “Brain waves?” the mother wails, taking Liam’s hand in hers. “Oh my God!” “How did this happen?” the father demands. “Um, he was pushed from the platform at the subway station,” Harry pipes up. The entire family turns to look at him, confused. Harry shrinks back, wishing he could have just kept his big mouth shut. “Who’s this?” the father asks, pointing at him. “Um, I’m Harry–” he starts. “He’s Liam’s fiancé!” Jade adds helpfully from where she stands by the door. Every jaw in the room drops, including Harry’s. Oh, shit. Shit shit shit. What?

When Harry, a lonely transit worker, saves the life of the handsome commuter he's been secretly pining for, an innocent mistake results in Liam Payne's family believing that Harry is engaged to their son. In the Paynes, Harry finds the big family he's always longed for...and a love he never saw coming.

A While You Were Sleeping AU

5️⃣ There's Such a Lot of World to See {E, 125k}

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” Harry asks, thumbing at Louis’ hip. “Like what?” Louis asks breathlessly. “Like you’ve seen a ghost or summat,” Harry muses. “You did it all the time the other day and you did it just now.” Louis swallows hard, studying him intently. “You remind me of someone,” Louis says softly, tucking a curl behind Harry’s ear. “Someone I lost.”

Louis has seen a great many things throughout his travels in time and space, but only one he can’t explain: He keeps meeting the same boy, who says the same thing to him each time. The boy should be impossible.

Maybe he is.

A love story that defies the boundaries of space and time. Doctor Who AU.

HIDDEN GEM:

💎 I'll Still Feel the Same Around You {E, 2k}

He finds himself wishing that the bedsheet would slip down a few more inches so he could get a good look at Harry’s perfectly pert–

Louis’ breath hitches as his cock stirs, suddenly very interested in this train of thought.

Oh.

Oh.

The answer to all of Louis’ troubles is so fucking obvious he can’t believe he didn’t think of it until now.

Nothing puts him to sleep like a good orgasm.

Louis finds the cure for his insomnia in the form of his husband.

[weaselle]

What'd your boss do, if you don't mind?

oh dear. trap card activated

ok. ok. There is a lot more behind me reaching the end of my rope. But the final straw was this:

I have next week off (my first week off in 3 years). She said she needed a report. She explicitly told me the reason she needed the report was so she could cover my shifts while i am off, citing problems covering when one of our clients gave me covid a month ago.

She said she needed to know what order I was doing pick ups and drop offs, and she needed to know procedures for the new clients (about half of our clients are new enough that she has never worked directly with them).

She gave the specific example of not knowing to go to the side door of one client's house instead of the front door. She said she also needed to know who had timing expectations, saying when she covered for me clients were "blowing up her phone" because she didn't know when clients expected me and which clients i typically texted an arrival time, again giving a specific example of "like the way you text [client she is familiar with] from the bottom of the hill on your way to her house"

I clarified by using two more examples "oh like how I always let [client's dog] stop to pee right before putting him back in the house, and how I always text [other client] when i am 15 minutes from her house?" and she confirmed that was the information she was asking for. She said to just write it down at each house along my route as i worked each day of the week.

At the end of Monday I told her writing all that down was making me late to client's houses, so i was just going to write it all up on the weekend. I also pointed out that since i was writing so much of it down anyway, i might as well write it not just good enough for her, but complete enough that any other employee could cover a shift of mine if needed. She agreed.

Since i was volunteering to do more than was strictly asked, and since i have been trying to showcase how i go above and beyond because she promised to make me a manager but hasn't, i wrote up this report in my own time, unpaid, over the weekend.

Now I only wrote a short paragraph for each client. But I service about 20 clients each day. Many of those clients are repeat clients throughout the week, so there was a fair amount of copy/pasting, but it was still a hell of a report to write up.

Because it was so long, I spent extra time making it super organized and easy to read, formatted so it's not just a wall of text, easy to skip over parts and find specific information as needed.

I turned in to her a 26 page 14,000 word document, which contains the necessary information for any employee to cover my specific client routes. It took me 7 hours.

Her response?

"This isn't what i asked for"

BUT IT IS EXACTLY WHAT SHE ASKED FOR.

I confirmed that it was what she asked for. It IS a little more detailed than she strictly asked for, but I TOLD her I would be doing that and she spent four days knowing I was preparing to do that and she didn't say a thing about not doing that.

So I'm like "well, what do you need that's not in there?"

And she says "i need to know the exact order you are doing your route, not just pick ups, but slotting the drop offs in-between the pickups too"

So i'm like "that is exactly how that report is written"

And she says "I need to know the times clients expect you to be picking up and dropping off, and when you are doing the walks and when you are taking breaks"

And i go "every client that has a timing expectation is noted in that report, my break times and the walk times are also included."

And she says "it's more information than i need, I need just the stuff i personally need, like the cliffs notes version of your report"

And i'm like "the cliffs notes version, the lines containing the specific information you personally need, are done in bold so you can easily skim through and find it."

and after going around and around like this, it finally comes out that what she ACTUALLY wants is a minute to minute log of how i am spending my day because she's paying me about 6 hours a week of overtime and she's mad about it.

Which i'm happy to provide a log of my time on shift, but if she wants to know why there's overtime, i can tell her in 2 minutes instead of wasting my time on this logging project, IN FACT I DID TELL HER WHY THERE WAS OVERTIME, ONCE WHEN CHANGES TO THE SCHEDULE MADE IT SEEM LIKELY, AND AGAIN TWO WEEKS LATER CONFIRMING THAT WAS WHAT HAD HAPPENED

But really it boils down to me bending over backwards to help her grow her business while she has failed to make good on every single promise she's made me.

Like, I was her only employee for two years and she promised she would make me a manager (i'm interested in a promotion for both the monetary compensation and the job title for résumé reasons) and i worked my ass off to build up the client base so we could hire two more employees and make that happen...

but she did not have me sit in on the interviews, she did not have me shadow her doing the intake process, nothing. She clearly either does not intend on making me a manager or doesn't know how.

i tend to gravitate to small, owner operated businesses, partially because i have a real soft spot for being truly needed, and partially because it's a way to study the dos and don'ts of how to open and run my own business one day.

I understand she is a small business with small business problems, and i have been very patient because she's a single mom with a lot going on in her personal life.

But the thing about me is, while I am very very patient and very very loyal... i need a bare minimum of return on that to replenish it. Tell me what a great job i'm doing every now and then, show appreciation for what i do, listen to me when i say things, etc, and if you NEVER do any of that, my vast reserves of patience and loyalty will dry up.

And once you use up my patience and loyalty? That's it. It's gone.

And I, well, i have been all used up.

also she pays me like half what she should, which i was letting slide because i was going to get a big raise with my promotion to manager, but that is looking like it will never happen, so ... fuuuuuuck this shit i'm out

"so i can open and run my own business one day" has arrived

[thesmpisonfire]

So... Before the stream starts, I wanna talk a bit about Pac and how he has been developing to the point of sacrificing himself. Let's go besties!

(The video is this silent btw. This is how it was in the stream)

Pac feels completely alone. He said it himself, he doesn't has Mike, he doesn't has Richas, Forever lost his mind and Felps often disappears in his square

His decision to get the pills by sacrificing himself is the only way he feels able to help Cellbit, because it's just the two of them now. He feels he needs to do this because if he doesn't, someone else will do it, and he feels he's the only useless one

His suicidal tendencies have been getting worse, yesterday as he jumped on the mines he got to the point of bleeding out on the ground 5 times one after the other and have hallucinations that he was dying and going to heaven. He can't take this anymore. He can't take the solitude and the destruction around him and the hopelessness, he has to do something

It hurts me to think about his last interactions with his family. He pulled Cellbit into a hug that Cellbit had no time to reciprocate, and told him monday would be a better day for sure before leaving back to the lab. To Fit, he told his plan that he wanted to get the pills... And Fit didn't understand what he meant

That fucked me up btw. Fit never understood Pac wanted to give in to the treatment. Maybe it was stubborn hope and forced naivety to ignore the truth. He thought Pac wanted to steal from Forever, and the last talk the two had, Pac said once again "I'll find a cure after I get the pills, Fit", and Fit encouraged him. He said Pac could do it and then they said a brief goodbye before Fit rushed away. Pac lingered, tho, standing in place and watching Fit go. Fit didn't notice it wasn't a " see you soon", it was a "goodbye"

And to Forever? Forever tried so hard to tell Pac off. To shake his head and make him back away, but Pac had his mind set on it. Even Pac's words had a lot of truth in them. Yes, it was for the better. Yes, he wanted this. Yes, they'll take a picture of all the family together again. Pac was so tired, and he moved so slow compared to Forever's forced energy. Their goodbyes were "Favela Five until the end", Forever doesn't know Pac wrote those exact words to Cellbit, and he was the last person to see Pac before he was gone, a weak smile and a wave before following Cucurucho

He can't forget. He kept repeating it. He can't forget. He won't forget. He'll do this for his family and he needs to at least give away one of the pills to someone so they also have it in case Pac can't go through his studies. He wrote a letter to himself to remember... And he's still an optimistic when writing it, saying he'll manage to get through it, that it will all end well

He did this to take away the weight from anyone else, so no one has to hurt Forever, so no one else has to sacrifice himself, so Cellbit can find an answer and doesn't try to do it alone

Favela Five until his end

[chloe-caulfield94]

Bay Max has a talk with Other Max

This is going to be a part of a larger fanfic, so if it piques your interest, stay tuned. It's also quite darker than what I usually write, so be warned.

-----------------------------

Max went back to the scene of her crime. The filthy bathroom corner she had showered with her tears five days prior. The filthy bathroom corner that she had cowered in, waiting for Chloe’s heart to be pierced by a bullet. She touched the fire alarm she was supposed to use to save a life, but she had chosen not to. She turned to walk away and she noticed the moustache and glasses scribbled on the mirror. She walked over and touched the graffiti, repeating her movements from Monday.

“You were right. Something was mocking you. It wasn’t the universe, though. I highly doubt the universe is even aware a bug like you is currently crawling on its skin. It was me. I’ve been mocking you” – Max heard her own voice coming from the mirror. She noticed that her reflection not only wasn’t mirroring her movements, but it was even dressed differently – in her usual grey hoodie and pink t-shirt instead of the black dress she was wearing.

Max furrowed her brows. “You again? You told me to sacrifice Chloe. You told me she wasn’t worth my love and friendship. And that spectacle at the diner? All the townspeople accusing me of murder? Bravo. I especially liked Joyce telling me that I’m taking her away from her family if I don’t sacrifice Chloe. But her family is Chloe! Such a nice touch. How twisted do you have to be to even come up with something like that?”

“Why are you making fun of my tricks? You fell for them. They worked. You did what I told you to do”.

“Yes, you bullied me into killing my own best friend. I did what you told me was the right thing to do. Even though by doing so I killed my soul as well. What more do you want from me?”

Her reflection chuckled. “Bold of you to assume you had a soul to begin with. And our talks have never been about me telling you to do the right thing. Have you considered the possibility that I simply enjoy seeing you squirm?”

“Who … what are you?”

“I’m a part of you that contains all of your self-loathing, self-doubt, guilt and resentment. Or … perhaps I’m a demon sent to torment you. You always listen to Samuel’s talks about spirits roaming around Arcadia Bay. You constantly fall for various ‘woo’ you find on the Internet. You’re functionally an antivaxxer. I’m sure you’re more than capable of believing in demons”.

“So what now? You told me I should sacrifice Chloe and now that I did you’re going to say I shouldn’t have?”

“More or less. I’m always telling you things that make you feel bad. But before you say I’m evil, that’s just what I am. You could say it’s my job. I am a part of you that makes you feel sad. It’s not my fault you let me grow so strong. Stronger than all your other parts put together. You know, the nightmare you had when Chloe was hauling your unconscious body to safety was the first time we met face to face. But it was not the first time you heard my voice. No, for years I whispered in your ear. I told you not to return Chloe’s phone calls. I told you to respond to her texts with the most non-committal nothings under the sun. I told you not to write her letters. I told you not to reach out to her even when you already were in Arcadia Bay. And we both know for a fact you wouldn’t have contacted her, ever, had she not saved your ass in the parking lot, don’t we? And we both know that had you contacted her right after you arrived in town, six weeks before she was murdered, her fate would’ve turned out differently and she wouldn’t have found herself on the receiving end of Nathan’s gun. No Storm, no dead best friend, had you just had the guts to reach out to her, you coward. Your cowardice killed people. You could only choose who it killed. But it was fatal nonetheless”.

“So you are responsible for all of this?”

“No, no, no! Don’t pin your wrong choices on me, Max! I only ever highlighted the options you had. But we always make choices as one. All parts of us together. It’s not my fault you constantly follow my advice. Think of me as of an attorney, defending a client who’s obviously guilty. I have to do this. It’s my job. So when the neglectful jurors return a not guilty verdict and the accused is released into the world to commit more evil, whose fault it is?”

“You can’t be a part of me. I‘m not a good person. But you … you’re a monster”.

“If I’m a monster, that makes you a monster as well, at least in part. And I’d say that you’re a monster in full. All your parts are monsters. It’s just that I’m honest about what I am. All your other parts, including the one I’m talking to right now, are in denial. Care to explain one thing to me? Why did you kiss Chloe when she dared you to on Wednesday morning, but then you immediately rewound time and didn’t kiss her for a second time? So you had all the fun of kissing her and she had none of the fun of being kissed by you? You used her body for your own pleasure but you made sure she got none of that pleasure back? At best that makes you a selfish lover. At worst that makes you … an artist. Like Jefferson and Nathan. You like posing others for your own pleasure, you steal moments from other people and you make sure they don’t remember those moments at all”.

“Shut up! I am nothing like them!”

“Oh really? How is what you did to Chloe different than what Nathan did to her? You used her for your own pleasure for five days and then you tossed her away like trash, making sure she would remember none of it. At least he was done with her in a single night. You took your sweet time with her. Oh, and another thing you have in common. You both murdered her”.

“I had to! You said so yourself!”

“You didn’t have to do anything. You chose to do that. You know he’s going to be released soon, right? I give it three years. And then Sean Prescott’s golfing buddies at the Oregon Supreme Court, you know, the ones whose election campaigns he financed, are going to overturn Nathan’s conviction. What a beautiful story they are going to tell! And the media is going to repeat it a thousandfold. A story of a promising, talented, handsome, well-mannered young man from a good family who had the misfortune of crossing paths with two whores. One junkie whore named Rachel, who overdosed despite Nathan’s best efforts to make her quit her drug habit. He probably even performed CPR on her once she OD’d. Alas, to no avail. But it does explain his DNA, if any is found on Rachel. And then there was a second whore. She got innocent little Nathan drunk and she dragged him to bed. A filthy gold digger, who just wanted to lay her grubby hands on his family’s well-earned wealth. And when she tried to violently extort money from him, he simply had to stand his ground. Ooh, ooh! I have idea for another juicy detail to this story! She wanted to extort money from Nathan because she was pregnant! Nathan, being a responsible young man, of course insisted on using protection, but she pricked the condom with a needle, like gold-digging whores do to accomplished men they want to entrap. I mean killing your pregnant mistress is perfectly legal. Haven’t you seen ‘Fatal Attraction’”?

Max vomited into the sink, violently. She had eaten very little that day, so it was mostly bile. It went out of her mouth and nose. She wiped her face with her sleeve. Leaning against the sink, she said hesitantly: “But … those are all lies. None of that is true”.

“Max, of course we both know the truth. Nathan murdered Rachel in the course of a ‘photo session’ he gave her. And he was … extra hands-on with her, wasn’t he? At least Jefferson didn’t insert himself into the pictures. But Nathan … half the pictures of Rachel we found in the Dark Room were of him groping her, kissing her, lying on top of her … I mean no wonder Jefferson killed him. He was furious Nathan treated his adolescent girlfriend that way. And we know why Chloe wanted hush money from Nathan. Because he drugged her and gave her a ‘photo session’ too. And she knew she would get zero justice by going to the Prescott-owned police department. You remember that cop who openly told you, in a crowded diner, that he and his buddies were taking money to look out for little Nathan? We know what she did was the only way for her to get any semblance of justice. That’s the truth. But the biggest problem with the truth is getting people to believe in it. Especially if they were bribed not to. You know, they are not going to use exactly the same story I just told you. No, they are probably going to use something even worse, something even more insulting to your dead best friend’s memory. You can run, but you cannot hide, Max. You can run to a place where the local news from Oregon don’t reach, like a hippie commune in the middle of Arizona. But sooner or later, those news are going to reach you. Hell, maybe you’ll learn of Nathan’s rehabilitation and of the awful crimes of Rachel and Chloe ten years after it makes the headlines here in Oregon. But you will hear about that. I can’t wait to see your face then. I can’t wait to hear how you try and fail to convince yourself it had to happen for the greater good”.

“But … there is evidence. Nathan’s real student record. The photograph of Chloe he kept in his drawer”.

“Too bad you only regained memories of those days you chose to erase today. Had you remembered anything on Monday, you could’ve told someone. But now? Those documents and photographs are long gone. The principal has been on the take from the Prescotts for years. He swept under the rug Nathan’s many violent outbursts and his drug peddling. What, you think he won’t sweep this under the rug? If only out of concern for his own skin? If Prescotts go down, Wells goes down with them. Come on, he let a violent, drug-addled boy attend Blackwell for years, instead of expelling him, like he should’ve. But we know only poor people get expelled, don’t we? Poor girls get expelled for a little graffiti in the parking lot. Rich boys don’t get expelled when they are caught selling drugs and beating other students up. Wells will never let anyone see Nathan’s real student record, the one he kept secret for so long. He will only show the fake one, the one painting a rosy picture of Prescott junior. And the photograph from Nathan’s drawer? Long gone. Taken by Wells himself or some other schmuck on the Prescott payroll. But don’t be too hard on yourself, Max. Who would you have told about this evidence? The insanely corrupt cops, who only arrested Nathan because they found him at the crime scene, smeared in his victim’s blood? They would’ve supressed or even outright destroyed all that evidence, too. You know, to keep those envelopes coming”.

Max kept breathing heavily, as if she was about to throw up again.

Her mirror image kept driving the knife ever deeper into Max’s heart: “Why are you so disgusted with all of that? Those are all consequences of the choice you made. You didn’t want to live with the Storm as the unintended consequence of your rescue of Chloe. And now you don’t want to live with Nathan’s impunity and the desecration of your best friend’s memory as the consequences of your choice not to save her. At some point you have to own the consequences of your actions, whatever they are. And why are you so disturbed at the thought of Nathan’s release? You have so much in common. Two artistic souls? And you already share such a deep bond. To have murdered someone together? To have the same blood on your hands? I don’t know if a deeper connection can be established between two persons. If you start writing him letters now, you can marry him the moment he is released. But I suggest you start writing now. Because there’s going to be a lot of competition. Hybristophilia is quite common among young impressionable women such as yourself. Especially if the murderer is cute and rich”.

Anger overpowered Max’s disgust. She banged her hand on the mirror and shouted: “Fuck you!”

“’Fuck me?’ You’re talking to yourself, Max. What does ‘fuck you’ even mean in this context? Are you announcing that tonight, once you’re all snuggled under your covers, you’re going to touch yourself? Are you going to think about your precious punk Chloe as you do so? Face it, what you felt for her wasn’t love. If you loved her, why did you never say it? She said it twice. She always said it just before you killed her. Because no matter the timeline, you always end up murdering her. And always with her dying breath she confesses her love for you. And you never reciprocate. Why? If you loved her, why didn’t you tell her that? ‘I’m sorry, I don’t want to do this’ is not exactly a love confession. No, it’s what a butcher says to a sad-eyed calf they are about to slaughter. What you felt for her was lust. You realized you were already in your senior year and you wanted to go through a ‘bad girl phase’. And you did. A perfect ‘bad girl phase’. No messy breakup, no clinging. Everything just erased, like your browser history. If you didn’t want to lie you loved her, you at least could’ve told her she deserved your love and friendship and deserved to be alive. When she said she didn’t, you didn’t deny that. And by sacrificing her, you kinda proved her right on that point”.

Max once again banged on the mirror and screamed: “Stop it! I loved her! I still do! You are defiling the best, purest thing I’ve ever felt! That I will ever feel!”

Her reflection’s stern facial expression gave way to a malicious smile. Just like she said, she enjoyed seeing Max squirm. “And we both know why you lust for tall girls with tattoos and bright hair dye. Jefferson’s albums. The ones you loved so much. The ones which drew you to him. The ones which made you wish to be one of his students. The ones he shot in his Seattle days. The ones filled with girls from the local music scene. You loved how he captured them. The difference between you and him is that he grew bored of faux-punk sluts like that and moved on to decent girls from good families. But you continued to lust after low-hanging fruit. At least until you could try it. And when you saw your long-lost friend dressed just like those girls from Jefferson’s albums you’d thought about when touching yourself, you just had to possess her. So tell me, Max. This night, with your hand between your legs, are you going to think about her? Are you going to think about the oh so wet kiss you gave her just before you murdered her?”

“Shut up! Shut up, you monster!”

“I think you’re going to do just fine here at Blackwell. Now that the position of the school princess is confirmed to be vacant, you have a decent shot at taking it. You and Rachel are so alike. You both wanted to fool around with a cool punk rocker. But once you discovered that underneath that thin façade was a real girl, one with her own feelings and other messy things like that, who instead of constantly providing you with cheap thrills actually needed something from you, needed your love and care, you couldn’t throw her away fast enough. I wonder, what’s a more cowardly way of breaking up with someone? Leaving them a scribbled note or murdering them?”

“Shut up. Please, shut up” – Max pleaded quietly with her tormentor.

“Max, why are you even standing here, listening to me? You could’ve walked out that door the moment I spoke up. But you didn’t. Why? Because you know you deserve to hear all of that. You are simply accepting your just punishment. Because even though you want to delude yourself into thinking that you’re an everyday hero who saved their hometown, you know you are the monster. And something even worse. How do you call someone who makes a promise to love and protect another person, but then breaks that promise every single time? How about ‘oath breaker’? That does have a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

Max turned to walk away. She said in a resigned tone: “Enough. Maybe I do deserve to hear all of that, but I can’t take it anymore”.

“If you’re tired of my words, how about listening to someone else?”

Max heard her voice. Not her reflection’s. Her own voice coming from the mirror. And then she heard Joyce’s.

“I wish I was a better friend. I know Chloe doesn’t get many visitors”.

“Oh, Max. You’re Chloe’s best friend for a reason. You’re here exactly when she needs you”.

Max turned towards the mirror again and saw Joyce sitting in her bed. Then the image shifted and she saw William sitting at the table in the Prices’ living room. And once again she heard her own voice.

“William, I just want you to know, that whatever happens, I’ll always be here for Chloe. Always”.

“I know you will, Max” – replied William.

Max’s reflection editorialized: “Had they only known that by ‘being there for Chloe’ you actually meant murdering her”.

The image in the mirror kept shifting, showing her various moments from the week that never was. Max was being lashed with her own words. Bitter, burning tears ran down her cheeks.

“I’m with you to the end, Chloe. You know that”.

“Chloe, you’re priceless”.

“I never want to hurt you! Ever!”

“I always wanted my life to be special, an adventure. But not without you!”

“You are my number one priority now! You are all that matters to me!”

“It doesn’t matter what happens to me. I have to save Chloe!”

“Nobody is going to hurt Chloe ever again!”

The image shifted and Max was once again staring into the eyes of her reflection. Only it was a reflection of her thirteen year old self, in a similar black dress meant for funerals. The reflection said, in a high-pitched, childish voice:

“You don’t have to worry about anything changing. You’re dealing with so much other stuff. You don’t deserve any of this. Chloe, listen. Even if I never … Even if we’re moving for good ... We’re always together, okay? Even when we’re apart. We’re still Max and Chloe. I will always, always love you”.

Her words were punctuated by a deafening gunshot, so loud it made the mirror shake and Max’s ears hurt.

Thirteen year old Max kept speaking: “Because I will never abandon you, Chloe. I'll always have your back”.

Another deafening gunshot.

Her thirteen year old reflection had more to say: “You’re sick in the head, you know that? I said those things because I was a stupid brat and I didn’t actually mean any of that. I didn’t even know what it meant to love someone. But you … It wasn’t enough for you to make false promises to a nineteen year old Chloe. No, you had to go back in time and lie to a fourteen year old Chloe’s face as well”.

Max turned around, walked over to the fire alarm and retrieved the hammer she was supposed to use on Monday.

Walking back to the mirror, she saw her eighteen year old reflection holding a black notebook covered in colourful stickers.

“You really should give it a read. I don’t know why Joyce and David gave their daughter’s belongings to you of all people. That guy Eliot deserved it way more. You know, the one from kindergarten? At least he loved her. In a possessive, jealous way. But he loved her. Unlike you and Rachel. And he was in her life for way longer than you. The next time you’re going through your victim’s belongings, don’t stop at the pictures you took of her. They only show how you saw her. Read her diary instead. Learn how she saw you”.

Other Max opened the notebook and started reading aloud. Max was already next to the mirror, hammer in her raised hand. But when she heard what had been written, she couldn’t move: “The worst part is that even though we haven’t spoken in months, even though she habitually ignored my texts so much that I just stopped trying, even though I know, deep down, that she doesn't care about me anymore and that she probably has all new friends up in fucking Seattle ... I still miss her. If she came back tomorrow and said ‘hey Chloe, want to dress up like pirates and be stupid together?’, I would take her back in a heartbeat”.

Other Max showed Max the contents of the page. “See? And then she drew a heart and added ‘in a heartbeat’ once more. That’s what she thought of you, bleeding out on the floor. How she would take you back in a heartbeat if you just reached out. But you never did. She never saw you after William’s funeral. She never had the chance to take you back in a heartbeat. Because you never came back. And because you stopped her heart from beating. Forever”.

With an unarticulated scream, Max struck at the mirror. An avalanche of glass shards fell into the sink, mixing with bile. Max breathed heavily. Some of the things the other her said were obvious lies. That she didn’t love Chloe. That she was anything like Jefferson and Nathan. But other things … That she had broken her promise. That she had failed her friend. Max desperately wished those things were lies as well.

Her reflection, its voice distorted, as it was now coming from dozens of glass shards at the same time, dealt her a final blow: “Live with the consequences of your actions, Max. Or don’t. I’m fine either way”.

“Oh, I’m not going to live with them. But not in the way you want me to”.

“What, are you trying to tell me you’re going to find your courage and confidence? That part of you is all shrivelled up, almost dead. You’re never going to find her alone”.

“I’m not alone. I have my best friend to help me”.

Max walked over to the corner she had cowered in on Monday. She looked everywhere, but the photograph she had dropped five days earlier was nowhere to be found. She turned to the trash cans, picking them up and emptying them onto the floor. She knelt and started going through the piles of slimy garbage with her bare hands, begging whoever and whatever was listening for the butterfly picture to turn up. It didn’t.

[writeforfandoms]

Fall Into Me 8

Find the series masterlist

Gaz and Soap spend an evening trying not to worry. Gaz finds something unexpected on the coffee shop Monday morning.

Warnings: Swearing, antisemitism (instance of swastika being spraypainted on the building), not quite panic attack, Soap and Gaz gossip.

Word count: 2.1k

Eventual Rose x 141/Los Vaqueros. Eventual.

Gaz liked Soap, he really did. He just… liked Soap less when Soap followed him home.

Not that he was truly surprised anymore. Soap only spent half of his nights in his own apartment, claiming it was too quiet and infringing on everyone else’s spaces instead. 

(Apparently the last time Soap had shown up uninvited at Ale and Rudy’s apartment, though, Ale had sworn at him in Spanish for a solid minute before throwing a pillow in his face. Rudy still refused to translate everything, and Soap went an interesting shade of red whenever the subject came up.) 

Gaz had acquiesced with mostly good grace, especially since Soap paid for dinner from a little deli Gaz had never been to. 

Which is how the two ended up on Gaz’s couch, eating some of the best matzo ball soup Gaz had ever had and playing video games. 

“You have to go left,” Gaz pointed out, very helpfully if anybody asked him. 

“I know what I’m doing,” Soap muttered, hunching his shoulders. “Guess that explains how she knew about the deli.” 

“What?” Gaz blinked at the non-sequitur, and then smirked when Soap had to backtrack. “Told you to go left.” 

“Fuck off,” Soap grumbled without heat. “Rose. Jewish. Explains how she knew about the deli.” 

Gaz snorted. “I don’t think she knows every Jewish spot in the city just because she is, man.” 

Soap shrugged. “Dunno, she got a bit squirrely when we asked.” 

Gaz huffed, leaning back and balancing his soup in his lap. “Not everybody likes Jews,” he pointed out, reasonably enough. 

“I know that!” Soap growled softly when he had to backtrack again. 

“And she doesn’t know us well, yet.” Gaz ignored that little outburst. “Of course she’s being cautious. Can’t blame her.”

Soap didn’t respond for several moments. “D’ye think she’s been hurt before? Because of who she is.”

Gaz considered the question carefully and eventually shrugged. “Dunno. It’s hard to say. She hides a lot behind those smiles.” 

Soap grunted softly as he finally got his character back onto the farm and into bed. “Your turn.” 

Gaz took the remote and knocked his fist into Soap’s shoulder. “There’s still a lot we don’t know. Takes time to get to know someone. Just keep being you, she has fun with you.” 

“Course she does.” Soap grinned, leaning back to watch Gaz work on the farm. “How’d you get her number, anyway?”

“I asked.” Gaz preened a little. “She likes me.”

“Shove off.” Soap stuck his tongue out. 

“I could make you go home.”

“Good luck, this couch is mine.” 

Gaz was just debating pausing the game to tackle Soap off the couch when his phone pinged. He paused the game anyway but only to dig his phone out. 

“From Rose,” he muttered, for Soap’s benefit. “Says she’s… on her way home already?” 

“It’s just past 9,” Soap muttered, frowning. “She alright?”

Gaz was quick to text back, thanking her for letting him know and asking if she was alright. He ate more soup while he waited for a response. It was really good soup. 

I’m fine. Dinner ended early is all, no big deal. See you Monday!

Gaz turned his phone around so Soap could read it before Soap could do anything like try to wrestle the phone away from him.

“Dinner ended early,” Soap repeated blandly. “Sounds a bit fishy, aye?”

“Not our concern,” Gaz reminded him. “She’s basically telling us to back off.” 

Soap made a face but didn’t argue. “Hurry up and finish the day,” he grumbled. “I wanna see if I can catch that fish.” 

Gaz rolled his eyes but resumed the game. But he (and Soap) kept an eye on his phone, just in case of further texts. 

But he didn’t hear anything more from her all weekend. 

He got up early Monday morning, intending to help her out with the shop for the morning rush. Fortunately he didn’t live far from the office building (closer than everybody except Soap, actually) so it wasn’t a long walk. 

He stopped dead on the sidewalk outside the coffee shop. Someone had spraypainted a swastika on the outside of the shop, the black and white stark and ugly. 

“Rose!” He ran the last few steps to the door, tugging on it. Locked. But the lights were on. “Rose!” He knocked and then moved, searching for movement in the shop. 

Rose emerged from the back, pale and trembling, and unlocked the door for him. Gaz was quick to grab her shoulders, giving her a once-over. But she looked okay, just scared and shaky.

“Are you alright?” he asked, locking the door behind them and guiding her back again. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” She looked at the front window and shuddered, eyes closing in misery. “I already called building management, I’m waiting to hear back.” 

Gaz clenched his jaw for a moment. “I’m calling the Captain.”

“What? No! Why?” She shook her head rapidly, hair whipping around her head. 

“He might have access to the outside cameras, so he can find who did this.” Gaz shrugged as he pulled out his phone. 

“Don’t bother him so early.” Rose looked if anything more panicky, which was… the opposite of what he wanted. 

Slowly, he put his phone back away and pulled her into a hug. Her next inhale was shaky, and he hugged her harder even as he felt moisture on his shoulder. Her hands gripped the back of his shirt tightly, but she was remarkably quiet. If anything, that made his heart hurt more for her - that kind of quiet was learned. 

“I’m sorry,” she finally gasped, pulling away and wiping at her eyes. “I just–it was a long weekend and I didn’t get much sleep and I wasn’t expecting to see that and–”

“Easy,” Gaz murmured, tugging her over to a chair. “It’s alright, you’re alright. We’ll get that taken care of, yeah? You don’t have to worry about it.” 

Rose shook her head again, but she didn’t actually object, so Gaz called Price. But he stayed right next to Rose, one hand rubbing her shoulder. 

“Gaz,” Price answered, calm and even as always. “What’s going on?” 

“Someone spraypainted the outside of the coffee shop,” he reported immediately, squeezing Rose’s shoulder when her breathing hitched. “I’ve got Rose.” 

“Copy that, I can be there in ten.” 

“Rog. See you soon.” Gaz hung up. He had no idea how Price was going to manage getting here in ten minutes, but if there was one thing he knew about his Captain, it was that when he gave his word, he kept it. Price would be there in ten minutes, or less. “What can I get you, love?” 

Rose shrugged a little helplessly. “I don’t know. I haven’t…” Her gaze strayed to the window again and she swallowed hard. 

“Hey.” Gaz moved between her and the window, cupping her cheek to keep her from leaning around him. “You’re alright.” 

Rose shook her head again but didn’t elaborate further, just ducked her head. “I should be getting ready to open.” 

“I think people will understand if you don’t, today.” Gaz was going to hold his ground on this. Especially since he knew he’d have backup shortly. 

“No, I was already closed all weekend, I can’t…” Rose trailed off, visibly struggling. 

“This counts as extenuating circumstances, love.” Gaz swiped his thumb over her cheek, hating the wetness there, that this had upset her enough to cry over. “We’ll get it figured out, yeah?” 

Her next exhale was shaky, and for a moment Gaz was afraid she’d start crying again. But she just sniffled and nodded. 

“I have tissues in the back,” she muttered, getting to her feet again, more slowly than normal. She shuffled away from him. Gaz almost called her back or grabbed her or offered to do it for her, but he restrained himself. She needed a bit of time and space. At least she wouldn’t be able to see the spraypaint from the back. 

Gaz put his hands on his hips and briefly dropped his head. Poor thing - she needed a few more good hugs and some time to calm down. 

And they needed to figure out if this was a genuine threat or just some arsehole. 

Two pairs of boots approaching got Gaz to move, and he unlocked the door before Price could knock. Ale was with him, likely a coincidence, holding a small bundle of flowers. Both men looked furious, as Gaz expected. 

“Sitrep,” Price growled, taking a quick look around the store.

“Found that this morning,” Gaz said, locking the door again. “Rose is in the back, already contacted building management. Unknown motive.” 

Ale set the flowers down gently, lips set in a grim line. “Cameras?”

Gaz shrugged. “Don’t have access yet.” 

Price nodded once, gaze flitting about the store. “Is she staying closed today?” 

“No.” Rose stopped behind the counter. Her face was still a little blotchy, her eyes still a little red, but she looked steadier. She was certainly less pale. “I can’t.”

“You don’t know if that is a threat.” Price crossed his arms over his chest. 

“I doubt it. Most likely just someone thought they’d make an antisemitic statement.” She shrugged. “It’s awful, but it could be worse.”

“It could be worse is not reassuring, cariño,” Ale murmured, stepping closer to her to cup her shoulders. “We worry because we care for you and do not want to see you hurt.”

For a moment, her lip trembled. Then she breathed in slowly, smiling just a little. “I appreciate that. But I really can’t stay closed today.” Her gaze darted to the window darkened with spraypaint and the smile twisted into a grimace. “For one thing, I don’t want to be intimidated into closing. And for another… still have bills to pay.” 

Ale clucked and pulled her into a hug, tucking her easily under his chin. Watching the two of them, it struck Gaz how much smaller she was - she fit easily into Ale’s hold. Even Gaz had no problem tucking her into his shoulder when he wanted to. Smaller, soft, gentle. All the things that he’d been trying to protect in the world. 

Gaz clenched his jaw and looked away, only to find Price already watching him. The captain raised a single eyebrow: Alright? Gaz nodded once, determined. 

“Gaz will stay here today,” Price decided, watching as Rose pulled back a bit. “I’ll handle building management.”

“But–” Rose started to protest. 

“Your safety is more important,” Price interrupted, no-nonsense. “One of us will be here, we can work down here just as well as in the office. It’s not a problem. It’s not an imposition. Clear?” 

Rose made a complicated expression, an almost-smile paired with a little wiggle of her nose (and seriously, Gaz hadn’t thought she could get cuter) and some eyebrow acrobatics. Then she sighed and nodded. “Fine. Just. Don’t make anybody go out of their way because of this.”

Price huffed a laugh. “Darling, I’ll be lucky if they don’t all relocate down here,” he drawled. 

He had a point, Gaz had to admit. Rose blushed, though if it was the nickname or the rest of the sentence he couldn’t tell. Not for sure. But she was rallying quickly. 

“Fine,” she agreed. “But you will let me know the second you hear anything from management.” She narrowed her eyes a little at him, which was fair. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Price’s lips twitched with a barely repressed smile.

“Oh don’t ‘ma’am’ me,” she sassed. “Or I’ll start calling you Captain.”

Gaz just caught Price’s reaction, watching heat flare and be suppressed in a fraction of a second. Oh. Now that was new. 

Ale, fortunately, distracted her with another hug, murmuring something to her too low for Gaz to hear. Gaz took the opportunity to step closer to his Captain. 

“Standard check ins?”

“Yes.” Price didn’t look away from the two for another long moment before those blue eyes focused on Gaz. “I’ll keep you updated on my end.”

“Rog.” Gaz nodded once and slipped back behind the counter to grab the spare apron again. He paused outside the tiny office - he’d peeked inside before, of course, enough to see that there was barely enough room for Rose to get any kind of work done. Today there was a bright-colored bag sitting on the desk chair, and he could just see yarn poking out the top. 

He walked away, because if he thought about this too much, thought about Rose coming into work happy and looking forward to sharing her knitting, he’d go hunt the bastard down himself. 

“Where do we start?” he asked brightly, smiling at Rose.

[bobbinfire]

I went and watched Transformers One last night…

(don’t worry no spoilers)

My brain is still processing what I watched. It wasn’t bad, in fact it is my new favorite animated film. The Lighting played a key role, the Environments were for more than just establishing shots and were used for actual story through world building, the textures I could feel just by looking at them, the voice actors actually voiced acted and were not just their celebrity identities, and the Animation was breathtaking.

And none of this even goes into the story itself. This movie managed to cover the entire prologue of a 4 Million year long war in its allotted time without rushing a single beat. Each character had a purpose and went through the process of a well planned out character arc. The telling of this story was the equivalent of a slow burn romance, but specifically designed in reverse. We get to watch the best relationship melt like an ignited candle before our very eyes and we can do nothing but feel sorrow as our hearts crumble in our chests. As an animation student it is my obligation to say Spider-Man Into/Across the Spider-verse is the best animated film both in animation and story. Even if I wasn’t an animation student I would agree. That was what I would say… until last night. I know I will make people mad when I say this, but the fact is that Transformers One is an animated film that has managed to surpass the Spider-verse movies as the greatest animated movie I have seen. I watched it with two other animation students (one who had never seen anything transformers previously) and they both concurred.

I can say if I die tomorrow I will die happy with no regrets. Especially if Heaven is where I get to watch this movie on repeat while staring off into a Cybertronian sunset from the film.

Safe to say if you follow my page this is going to be the main focus right over Gravity Falls.

If for some weird reason you want to hear me do an in depth analysis as an animation student on this film I guess let me know. I will be pleased but genuinely surprised

now if you need me I need to go finish my presentation on this film to shove into my animation professor’s face against his will on Monday with my friends I mentioned previously.

[bright-and-burning]

okok vague writing prompts?? idk if you want one word or tropes but here is a list: nervous; college au; office worker au; insecure; flushed; siren au; zombie apocalypse; flutter; hoarse; clenched teeth!!!! hope something interests you!?!??! im sorry if i fail!!!!

omg so many thank you anon!! i went with office worker au, but i will be saving the other ones for the future :) if you see any typos it’s bc i wrote + posted this in one go and also no you didn’t <3

“And that’s why our new procurement process is, uh, brat,” Zak says, slightly choppy over Zoom. They really need to sort out the wifi in this wing.

Lando snorts, loud in the empty set of cubicles around him. He gets a lot done during these calls; nobody else works in person on all-staff meeting days.

“Jesus Christ,” someone mutters.

Nobody but Lando and this guy, apparently.

Lando double checks that his camera and microphone are off before popping his head over the grey cubicle wall. He doesn’t need to pay attention until Andrea starts talking anyways, and Zak’s only just hit eight minutes of monologuing. He’s got at least three more minutes before he needs to check back in.

“Hello,” Lando mouths, before realizing there’s no way this guy just broadcast his muttering to the full all-staff meeting. He repeats himself out loud.

“Hi?”

New guy’s face has gone all scrunchy.

Cute.

“I’m Lando. You’re new?”

He certainly wasn’t in the building for last month’s all-staff. Lando would know. He’d taken advantage of the empty office and switched his shitty desk chair for new guy’s cubicle’s nice one after the last guy left. Whoops.

“Oscar, kind of.” New guy, Oscar, is still trying to pay attention to Zak. Can’t have been around that long, then.

“Nice to meet you, kind-of-Oscar.”

Oscar pulls another face. Lots of faces on this guy.

“I meant-“

Lando cuts him off.

“I’m fucking with you. How are you ‘kind of’ new? There’s no way I missed you.”

Oscar’s eyebrow raises, even as his cheeks go a little pink. Lando shrugs, lucky that embarrassment doesn’t show as easily on his face as it clearly does on Oscar’s. He didn’t mean it like that. He also didn’t exactly not mean it like that, now that he’s said it, but that’s not the point.

Oscar pushes through Lando’s blunder like it never happened.

“I started last month? Andrea let me work remotely until I found a place. Didn’t sort things out till last week, so only been here,” he gestures at his undecorated cubicle, motion somehow infused with dryness, “since Thursday.”

Lando nods. Makes sense: he was out last week and neck-deep in deadlines on Monday. Oscar could’ve been a talking giraffe and Lando wouldn’t have noticed before today.

“You in analytics then, or?” Lando lets the sentence hang. He’s not all that sure what other departments they even have. Probably what paying attention to the all-staff is for. He’ll just ask George at drinks next week. Half to wind him up and half because he needs a list to work off of if he ever wants to figure out what Bottas does.

“Database management, actually. Think they ran out of desks in their wing, had to shove me in with you guys.”

“Well,” Lando says, dramatically sweeping his hand around, “welcome aboard.”

They smile at each other for a second too long.

Oscar opens his mouth. Lando glances down , and then down further to his watch.

“Oh shit, Andrea’s gotta be starting soon.”

Lando dips down fully onto his side of the wall, a little frantic. He pokes his head back up a moment later.

“See you around, kind-of-Oscar.”

Oscar laughs as he disappears behind the half-wall separating them again.

“See you around, Lando,” he says, smile audible in the quiet office.

Lando puts his headphones back on.

“—ank you to accounting. That’s everything in finance; anything new in data, Andrea?”

Perfect timing.

[sukunastoy]

Shameful Attraction (CEO! Sukuna x Female Reader~NSFW~Part 4)

Pairings: CEO!Sukuna x fem!reader x fiance!Toji (Non-Curse AU)

Synopsis: You've been in a long-term relationship with Toji from high school, who is the love of your life. Well, sometimes he is... You turn a blind eye to all of the heartaches he seems to deliberately bring upon you and the relationship. Despite his actions, you've remained loyal and true. That is, until Sukuna, a CEO and your new boss, draws you into an affair.

CW/TW: This story has moments of mistreatment and abuse. There are references all throughout about this behavior—Hitting, name-calling, degradation, hiding bruises, cheating, unfaithfulness, etc. Also, reader is thin/underweight, unprotected sex, fingering, pet names (i.e., doll, pretty thing, little one, princess, etc.), consensual degradation, and praise kink. Mentions of depression, thoughts of suicide.

Wordcount: 8.2k+

(Previous, Part 3)

~Toji always enjoyed making your life hell...didn't he? Sometimes you wondered how much longer your sanity could handle it. The love you used to feel for him was getting harder to hold onto each day.~

Monday, 4:47 AM "Morning, princess." Toji's voice disturbed you from your sleep, and for a moment, you tried to keep your eyes closed. Tried to will yourself back to sleep. Tried to give yourself a bit more time before facing reality again.

Swallowing hard, you let your eyes open slowly, looking into the face of your fiancé. "Morning.” "I'm sorry about the last couple of days. You know I never mean to let things get so out of hand, right?" He cooed softly while rubbing the side of your face.

You weakly nodded in return. Just glad he wasn’t so pissed off anymore. "What time is it?" You murmured, looking at him as you rubbed your eyes. "Almost 5." "Shit, I have to go." You groaned while moving from him quickly. The morning train started running at 5:30 am, and you didn't want to miss it. "So, you're just getting up and leaving?" "Toji, I have to go to work. I have to catch the train on time." You stressed while rummaging through the closet quickly. It was only then you realized how bare and empty your wardrobe was regarding professional attire. You had three different really nice outfits, two of which Sukuna already seen. Not that you cared about this before, but that was when you worked for a smaller company with a boss who wasn't that great anyway, so not like he ever noticed your repeating outfits throughout the week. Today would be a new outfit, but tomorrow you'd be in one of the outfits that Sukuna had already seen and you couldn't explain the embarrassment you felt over it. It seemed so trivial, but you worried about what he might think. You wanted him to see you look nice, to see you pretty in a different outfit all the time. You wanted to impress him. Fuck, but why did you need to do that? What was the point? Not like it was going to make a difference.

"Well, you shouldn't have picked a job so far away. Before, you didn't need to leave so early." Toji snorted while stretching out in bed. That niceness of his from the other night was clearly already fading. "It was the only place that was hiring, and one that was paying a lot more. I had no choice." "Sure it's not just some club where you're whoring yourself out?" You wanted to scoff, to throw down your clothes in aggravation, but you just kept it to yourself. Glancing up at the mirror on the closet door, you could see the faint bruises along your face that reminded you of why it was always better to keep your mouth shut.

He could seem so genuinely sorry in some moments, and in others, he proved he had little care for you.

"I doubt I'd get much money even if that were the case." You laughed jokingly, just wanting to lighten the mood and not let it be so tense and awkward. "Nah, you'd fetch a fair price, trust me." He said through a shit-eating grin, and it made your skin prick with goosebumps. "Come on, don't say stuff like that." You frowned, feeling disturbed by the very thought of such things.

As usual, you made sure to have some sort of breakfast ready for Toji before you left. Not that you got to have much of it. You didn't have time to eat a lot. By the time you left, Toji already plopped himself down on the couch in the living room, getting to do whatever he wanted throughout the day as usual. He said he worked on occasion, but you couldn't believe it. He obviously never had any money, and he refused to tell you what he did for work. Sometimes he'd disappear for days at a time, saying he was at work. But you weren't that stupid. He never brought any money home, and still continued to use all of yours. If he was getting money from some job, he was definitely keeping it a secret so you couldn't partake in any of it.  Not that you'd be surprised.

Settling into your seat on the train, you tried to stay out of view from others, not wanting curious and nosy eyes peering at the marks you were given. 

Your face was still so sore from when he slapped you a few times, and putting makeup on was difficult. But, unfortunately, covering your bruises was easy. Sadly enough, the concealers in your makeup bag worked their magic every time. It didn't take long until you had a fresh face that was full of vigor and proper color—like nothing ever happened.

Monday, 7:38 AM

Arriving in Roppongi felt like you entered a completely new atmosphere. There was a huge hustle and bustle of everyone trying to get to where they needed to be during their morning commutes, but still, there was an odd serenity to it. It was far from home, far from Toji and his abusive actions.  And very close to the man you craved to see again. 

Taking in the beauty of the office building you just entered, you smiled with excitement. You had seen the pictures online when applying, but in person, the scene took your breath away. There was an atrium right in the entrance, blocked off by glass paneling to keep people from cutting through it. The skylight above let in a ton of natural light. The gorgeous and well-kept Japanese maple tree in the middle stretched out pridefully while small ferns and an array of stones lined the ground beneath it. The ceiling was high, and tasteful metal art pieces were hung from it, seeming to span out the length of the room. Around the atrium was where the reception desk was, and it was a space of luxury as well. The wall behind the desk had water flowing down small ridges that lined the wall, creating a delicate and gentle-sounding waterfall.

You were greeted with a lovely, dark-haired woman, Mai. Her smile was soft yet lively, and once you gave her your name, she wasted no time getting you set up. You were given your badge and ID, which would be needed to enter most spaces in the building, including Sukuna's personal office. She directed you to sit off to the side until someone came to get you, and they would take you on a small tour before leading you up the few floors to where you'd be stationed mostly. Of course, you weren't expecting such a handsome yet stern man to greet you. "You must be y/n." He said to you as you stood and offered a small bow while acknowledging him. "My name is Kento, Nanami. Please, follow me." Nanami took you through the main floors, explaining where everything was in brief detail and you kept a mental note since he didn't seem like the type who liked to repeat himself. There was a gentleness to him, yet a no-nonsense attitude at the same time. Riding the elevator up with him to the executive suite, you let out a heavy breath, trying to clear your nerves. It was just like any office job. Except this office was more upscale and was run by the man who gave you one of the best and most indecent weekends of your life. "Nervous?" "Yes, a bit." You offered a sheepish laugh while looking at him for a moment. "I just want to do well, and prove my worth." There were some things Nanami could have mentioned that he already heard from his boss about you, but they definitely weren't appropriate. "Just be honest and hardworking, Sukuna doesn't demand the impossible. At least, not often." It was almost like a chuckle should have followed his words but he refrained and stopped at an office door down the hall from the elevator. "This is your office, and Sukuna will mostly come through here to access his. There is another door to his office around the corner, but no one should be going to it. That's for his own personal use when he needs to leave without being bothered. I expect you know the basics of being the assistant and more or less the gatekeeper to his personal time." You nodded to confirm what he was saying and he tapped to the small card reader next to the door. "You'll hold your badge to it, and once the light turns green, the door will unlock. It automatically locks once it closes again, so don't forget your badge inside your office. We have keys, but it's a pain in the ass to come to unlock someone's door just because they're forgetful." "I understand." You smiled at him while placing your badge on the reader. Once it clicked the lock, you pushed the door open slowly, peeking into the semi-dark space. "I'll leave you to it, Sukuna will arrive shortly and he'll go over more with you of course. It's a pleasure to have you on our team." The two of you exchanged a small polite bow to one another before parting ways. As you entered your new office, you let out a sigh of relief to see it was spacious and fit for your job. It wasn't decorated too much, other than a few things here and there, and you hoped that meant you could personalize it to what you like. The door to Sukuna's office was glass and on the other side of the room. The thought of being so close to him like this gave you unexplainable chills. It was still dark on the other side of the door, and it flattened your hopes of seeing into the room. While getting familiar with your own space, you couldn't help but worry about how Sukuna would treat you here at work. A multitude of scenarios played out in your head. Would he completely ignore anything that happened, and treat you as just another employee? Or would he show you favoritism? You wouldn't want anyone to assume you're sleeping with the boss just to get what you want. Well, you wanted the attention, but it had nothing to do with the job itself. Looking out the large windows while mentally preparing for the day, the sound of your office door opening made you turn quickly, nearly startled by the unexpected visitor.

When you laid eyes on that gorgeous man, your lip quivered in both excitement and peril.

"Morning, pretty thing." Oh, his voice. It was so grounding and calming. You wanted so badly to just go into his arms and have him hold you, tell you everything is okay, and squeeze any stress and pain out of your heart. But, you remained professional, just relieved that he still used the pet name. "M-Morning, Sir." "Still so shy of me?" He grinned while walking through your office to the glass door leading to his. You fidgeted slightly with a timid smile while following him, just so eager to be in his presence again. He opened the door and stepped to the side, gesturing for you to enter first.

For the next hour or so, he went over some brief details about the programs you'll be using, what timelines are expected of you, and any other thing that was important to know immediately. Hearing him talk with such professionalism was almost just as big a turn-on as his charming demeanor. He was very clear in his expectations of your job, and the assertiveness in his voice sent chills through your body. Just because the two of you had spent a great night together, his demands for the job were heavily separated from that, and a good fuck wouldn't excuse you from being an exemplary worker.

Sukunas POV~

It was a treat to be around her again, and to see that she was mostly the same woman at the office as she was outside of it; polite and shy. He couldn't explain why that drew him to her, other than she was such a contrast to most women in his life. She displayed confidence, yet she had reservations. As if it could easily be broken down under certain circumstances. Circumstances she shouldn't have to be in. She was eager to learn and to learn properly, and that was a breath of fresh air to him. Obviously, he preferred a woman to be his assistant, but most of them were too busy trying to be appealing enough. It was entertaining, and he wouldn't deny the enjoyment of fucking in his office from time to time, but, his company was always at the front of his mind. Its problems came first, as well as anything else involving it. Trying to have a serious work-related discussion with an assistant who couldn't stop trying to fool around with him became aggravating one too many times.

The stack of papers left on his desk from Nanami were a perfect place to start for her. He needed to get an understanding of what she knew, and what her skill set was. Her resume was impressive, so he knew there was more to her than the quiet and shy front. And luckily, she didn't disappoint. He sat back and watched as she got to work, skimming through the memos and printed meeting logs along with any spreadsheets that needed editing or clarification. She divided things based on importance, and even jotted down notes for what his schedule might include for the day. It was interesting to him, to see how focused she became. She asked him questions about any unknowns, and confirmed what is most important for him in his daily schedule. A couple differences here and there, but only cause Sukuna did things his own way just like any CEO would.

Anything he didn't care for or didn't want to be included in his own personal workload for the day became an issue for her instead. Anything he didn't have time for, was now something she would need to handle. Certainly, he wouldn't just let her loose quite yet. But he had confidence she wouldn't need that long to begin doing most of the work on her own. She was eager to please, but he couldn't figure out if that would be a weakness of hers or not. It was clear that her fiancé, or whatever he was, was a complete piece of shit. Lucky for him, that meant he got to play around with her more.

Monday, 9:12 AM

Your POV~

"Okay, this isn't something I'm sure about. Would this be more for me to handle, or would you prefer to have it in your own workload?" You questioned while reading over some printed-out emails from another company he did business with.

He glanced across his desk briefly to see what you were referring to, but opted to just stand up and look at it from your side. Feeling the warmth from his body come over you from behind, your whole frame tensed as arms came down on both sides of you. His palms rested on the desk while leaning over you so closely you could feel his chest against your back and you shuddered slightly as he remained in this stance, looking over what you had pointed out.

"Well, do you have any experience in this?" "Yes, I just never dealt with it too often at my other job. It was a smaller company, and my previous boss preferred to handle it on his own. But, you already have a lot to do, so I wanted to know what you would choose instead." "We'll figure that out when the time comes." He said while leaning his face down towards you.

Soft yet hungry lips brush across your shoulder towards the top of your clavicle, causing your breath to seize up in your throat at the abrupt action.

"Sukuna..!" a stunned whisper left your lips, now feeling his right hand sliding down the side of your body, his fingertips dipping into the curve of your waist and palm smoothing over your seated hip. "You want me to stop?" he asked quietly, lips now against your ear but his question was honest and you let out a small moan as goosebumps pricked over the back of your neck. Of course you didn't want him to stop. Fuck, please don't stop.

It didn't take long for Sukuna to have you completely melting at his touch, your head leaning back against his firm body as his lips sucked onto your skin, trailing wet kisses from the base of your neck to up behind your ear, the sensations shooting right down to your core as you wanted him again so badly. Wanted his hands all over you, wanted his scent filling your nose, wanted to please him and be something he yearned for. Just wanted to be something that someone yearned for.

But, you couldn't. This was wrong. You were here to work, not be the cliché slutty assistant to the boss. Placing your hand over your face in shame, you leaned away from him, slightly shaking your head. "I'm sorry, I can't, I can't do this. I'm not that type of woman." Sukuna turned your chair around abruptly to face him and before you could react, he had both hands pushed down onto the armrests, caging you into the chair below his demanding form. "What type of woman are you talking about?" He asked with curiosity, face coming down near yours and damn, you already started to whine in your throat for him. "The type who just messes around with the boss. I don't want to be seen as the office slut. And, and I shouldn't be cheating on my fiancé.” "That's not anyone's business but ours. Besides, you seemed to enjoy yourself the other night, didn't you? Cumming over and over cause it felt so good. You can pretend to love your fiancé all you want, but still come to me for this good dick." He smirked while leaning his mouth to your ear and you trembled with a shaky breath. "You're not being very professional right now." You laughed nervously, playfully pushing against his chest to get some distance between the two of you before you lost all control. He leaned back as you moved him while running a hand through his hair. "Doesn't seem like it bothers you." He stated while undoing his cuff links and collar. You looked up to him as he adjusted his sleeves, rolling them up as if preparing to do some task. "Sir?" The only response you got was a smirk and his hand gesturing you to stand. Of course, you did so without hesitation and he came forward, pulling the chair from behind you while spinning you around. Your false protests were cut short as he pushed you against the desk. You couldn't find your voice as he slowly knelt down behind you, reaching his hands up under your skirt to hook his fingers around the edges of your panties. As the lacy cloth was pulled down your legs slowly, Sukunas lips trailed down along with them, kissing your thighs down to your calves. While kissing your left leg, he lifted your right foot to step out of your underwear and then did the same on the other. "For someone who is trying to be a good girl for their fiancé, you're wearing some tempting undergarments while being in the office." "I didn't even notice.” You whimpered through a lie as his lips traveled to the inside of your thighs, delicate kisses making you tremble. He stood back up and you glanced back at him with a flushed face of embarrassment. "I'll hold onto these for a bit." When he gently stuffed it into his shirt pocket, you turned around, starting to demand he give them back but he caught your chin in his firm grip, halting you in an instant. "We only have about twenty minutes before the first meeting, so we shouldn't waste time." His voice was so smooth yet demanding, and you let him maneuver your body back around to be bent over the desk.

Hearing his belt start to come undone, your breath caught in your throat and you stammered at his actions which only made him chuckle and his grin widen. One of his hands pushed onto your shoulder, gently pinning you down against his desk, and the other hand snuck up underneath your skirt, fingertips gliding along your excited thigh til they could reach your heat.

"Oh, you've no idea." he began to say before a cocky laugh quietly left his throat as you tried to remain silent while quivering anxiously in desire to his touches.

"You have no idea what I've thought about doing to you all weekend." his voice fanned over the back of your ear as his fingers slowly slid between your lips and you felt so shy at how wet you already were. Letting the hand that was on your shoulder quickly slide around your neck and up to your mouth, his palm clasped over it tightly to keep you quiet while he pulled his hardened cock from his pants, the bend of his length landing atop of your ass with a soft smacking sound and your fingernails nearly dug into the desk with anticipation. Part of you wanted to move his hand away because of the soreness you still felt on your face, but you didn't want to bring attention to it. Not like ignoring the pain from Toji was foreign to you. Lying about bruises and marks had become second nature at this point.  Besides, you didn't want Sukuna to stop. Didn't want him to let you go or question what was wrong.

"It's amusing how you pretend you're too ashamed for this, yet you're so fucking wet already." His other hand now moved under your thigh quickly, lifting it up to where your leg was on the desk, spreading you beautifully open for him as he brought his hand back to your fluttering pussy, dipping two of his fingers inside without hesitation, curling them up towards your back and your shriek was muffled by the hand still tightly positioned over your mouth. "Shhh..." Sukuna hushed you with a chuckle, deepening his fingers to the knuckles as he reached for that beautiful sweet spot inside he had been yearning to satisfy again.

Heavy exhales came out loudly from your nose and your eyes were already starting to roll back as he finger fucked your pussy so roughly, blessing your gummy walls with his touch, sending your mind into a spiral of pleasure.

His lips found your neck again, nipping at the base of it as he slowly pulled his fingers out, earning a desperate whine from your throat at the loss of contact. He pumped your slick all over his cock, making it twitch in his hand before slipping in so easily that it made you feel guilty. The hand around your mouth pulled away as you concealed your desperate moans on your own, and he rolled up the fabric of your skirt, letting it rest at your lower back to fully expose what he wanted.

Biting onto your bottom lip so hard it almost hurt, you did your best to suppress any erotic moans that begged to burst from your lips, missing this feeling so much. Not just the amazing sex you were new to, but just him touching you in general. Just being in his presence relaxed you in such a way you had never felt before. His large hands made themselves comfortable at the small of your back, fingers lightly pushing into your skin to hold you in place as he slowly drove his cock deeper to the hilt, forcing your breath out again as it did the other night.

"Wait, fuck-!" You whimpered and writhed, moving your hand back to push against his thigh as he bottomed out. Your leg was already trembling at how full he made you, the pressure swelling within you. You still remembered the ache from the last time he fucked you, and you couldn't deny it hurt. But it hurt so damn good.

Letting out a deep exhale, he paused for a moment, the feeling of your sopping heat gripping him so tightly he could hardly think straight. Something he had no idea he would miss so much. Your glossy eyes searched back for his as you craned your neck to see him and he grinned in mirth at how your face was already so tense with pleasure. So beautiful he thought, enjoying your eager yet nervous gaze looking at him, not ever having the same desire to look at another woman in such a way in these moments. "I'll be patient, sweetheart." He reminded, letting his palms rub over your skin so gently. Despite him being so rough, you still felt like he'd completely stop at any moment if you wanted him to. But you were so afraid, so afraid that if you did ask him to stop again, he'd no longer have interest in you. And you needed this in a way you could never explain.

"Do me a favor, doll." he spoke quietly, allowing your walls the moment they needed to accept his thick length and you immediately nodded, willing to do anything he asked of you at this point. Leaning over your body more, his face came close to yours and he stole a quick kiss from your cheek before letting his mouth glide over your ear, his hot breath making you shudder through his whisper. "Please, make a fucking mess all over my desk."

By the time the words even registered in your head, he pulled his hips back and then shoved his cock all the way back inside of your desperate cunt, forcing a howl of painful pleasure from your lips which he immediately silenced, his large hand clasping itself firmly over your mouth again. Your muffled wails made him growl into your ear, and he bit onto the lobe, nipping as he reached his unforgiving pace, already hammering into you without reserve. With his hand around your mouth, he held your face and pulled your head back towards his, curving your back as his other hand stayed firm on your waist, allowing him to fuck himself deeply into you. The palms of your hands stayed flat on the desk to keep yourself lifted up as he positioned you, and incoherent cries slipped through his fingers over your mouth while his cocky laugh into your ear made your whole body already start to convulse without control. "Come on doll, cum for me, I know you won't last long." His rude and lust-filled voice commanded into your ear as he felt your walls start to grip him without reserve. But you inhaled deeply, struggling to hold off for a moment, unable to believe you were already about to fall apart. Shaking your head, you mentally begged to wait a bit, just wanting this to last.

He held you tightly as you stiffened in his grasp, sobbing breaths through his fingers and your eyes tightly screwed shut, the shocks of ecstasy shooting through you repeatedly.

Not allowing a moment for you to settle, he thrusted harder and you whined harshly in your throat, feeling your release smear all over his desk below, just as he was wanting you to do. Fuck, he was incredible at what he could do and how he could make you feel, and so quickly with little effort.

With your head tilted to the side, your eyes could make out the pleased expression on his face, and that alone made you want to cum all over his deliciously fat cock again.

"That's a good girl." His praise enveloped you in warmth and you whined desperately for him. Your leg struggled to stay propped up on the desk as it was shaking from overstimulation and it made your lover groan deeply into your neck, his own pants of gratification driving you fucking wild. Knowing that something as useless as yourself was making someone amazing like him enjoy what little you could offer was such an intense high.

He brought an arm around your chest, tightening underneath your breasts as he stepped back and stood your body upright, moving his other hand up under your struggling leg to keep it propped as he fucked your sloppy pussy and you cried silently, trying to not scream his name or release lewd moans as surely someone outside the offices and down the hall would hear. "Give me another," he demanded, growling into your neck, starting to chase his own high, knowing you would come undone again soon. Throwing your hand over your mouth as you couldn't stop your screams of ecstasy, you felt your walls constrict tightly around his cock as he maintained his bruising pace, every swollen groove inside of your cunt being filled with his girth and warm tears rolled down your cheeks as you came all over him again, your chest heaving as you continued to scream into your own hand, riding out your intense high.

Sukuna's cheek pressed against yours as he grunted with a faltering thrust, his cock throbbing deep within you as he filled you to the brim with his abundant ropes of hot cum and you cried out in ecstasy, his own hand now coming over your mouth to help quiet the loud sounds you couldn't stop from letting out.

Panting heavily, you pressed your cheek more against his, feeling that connection that only he had been able to make you feel. It was pain, it was pleasure, and it was complete depression yet happiness all at once.

"Fuck." He growled while swallowing hard, catching his breath before kissing on your neck softly, lips enveloping the area of skin where your heartbeat was hastily thrumming through. His hand that was under your thigh slowly let your trembling leg down so you could stand on your own two feet again and then he rested his warm palm and fingers along your waist. His hand that was over your mouth moved to your belly, holding you in place against him, and you whimpered softly, placing your hand over his as you were still enjoying your high, and his gentle touches and embrace were causing your mind to bombard you with emotions you didn't want to deal with. For a moment the two of you remained still, having not parted yet, Sukuna still buried deep within you and those pulsing throbs were still ever present.

He was never a man who could easily find joy in a single, repetitive sexual partner. Usually, it was boring after a few times, every woman eventually blurring into the same as the one before. They were often snotty and pretentious but were cheap and easy to get into bed. Unfortunately, they were just generic sluts spreading their legs without much convincing. Quick and easy fucks, but it got monotonous and tiresome. He certainly wasn't looking for anything romantic or heartfelt. But, someone who wasn't completely mindless or shallow was preferred. It was obvious you were already collapsing boundaries he set up, boundaries to keep women from trying to advance in his life as they were only there for his money, status, and the satisfaction he could give them in bed. He preferred to avoid any emotional connections and didn't want anyone else becoming attached to him in return, but with you, he couldn't help but struggle with that idea now. He couldn't recall the number of times he'd carelessly shoved a woman down over his desk, not even remembering her name or face as he flipped their skirts or dresses up, burying himself deeply within them to get what gratification he could. Many temporary assistants would come in here and straddle him in his chair, begging for some raise or a better opportunity in the company. He'd enjoy himself when they pulled out his cock and ride him in the chair, but he never honestly cared for any of them. They never stayed employed for long, as they usually failed miserably at the job. Gorgeous bodies, but no common sense. He certainly enjoyed fucking, but he still had a business to manage.

Monday, 10 AM

Sitting off to the far side of the long table in the conference room where Sukuna was about to have the first meeting of his day, you let out a deep shaky breath, nervous as can be.

Your fingers were gripping the hem of your skirt while you sat and waited for the actual meeting to start once the greetings and such were over, ready to start taking notes of important things being said per Sukuna's instructions. He had briefly walked you through main points you'd need to pay attention to, things to ask or how to handle confrontation/disagreements. Eventually, most of these meetings would be your responsibility as they weren't as imperative like the larger ones Sukuna needed more time for.

Throughout the casual conversation Sukuna was having with the others, he'd briefly look in your direction, a very subtle smirk with every glance and your eyes were soft as a doe in return, feeling as if your heart was dancing around in your chest. The intensity of his gaze onto you even while holding a conversation with several others made you so embarrassed and shy, knowing that even when you nervously looked away, those gorgeous eyes remained on you. He also still kept your underwear hostage in his pocket; his reminder being a subtle pat over the area every once in a while when he caught your gaze.

It wasn't too much longer until the meeting had started, and Sukuna introduced you to the few others in the room, you being the only woman of course, as most businesses were run by men, but you didn't let it bother you. With Sukuna at the other end of the table, you felt secure and confident when you stood and gave a polite bow, and you were surprised by the same level of curtesy you received in return from these posh businessmen.

Eventually, the one meeting turned into another, and another, and by the end of the fourth one, Sukuna seemed relieved there wouldn't be anymore for almost two hours.

Sitting idly at the other end of the table, going over your notes as Sukuna let out the last person from the room, he gave an annoyed sigh, dropping himself back into his chair to relax for a moment. "Normally they don't take that long." He said quietly, glancing over to you as you scribbled down some other things you suddenly remembered that could be important to know. "It didn't seem too terribly bad." You smiled up to him as you set your pen down, finishing your notes in the moment. "But it did help, I think I got a lot just out of these first few meetings. They seem pretty straightforward."

"That's good, and well, we have about two hours til the next meeting, let's go get some lunch." The chuckle from his throat quieted down as he looked at his watch then back up to you for confirmation, but a frown formed between his brows at your sudden downward gaze. Of course, lunch sounded amazing but, you couldn't spare a single coin for anything other than your train tickets for this week and the next. Already you were plagued with the thought of your deadline next week... ¥1,000,000? Your paycheck wouldn't even come close...And your parents had yet to return your call. Would you actually be sent to jail for failure to pay? Its not something you wanted to necessarily gamble over. And how were you to tell Sukuna about it? 'Sorry sir, I know you just hired me but I have to go to jail now because my fiancé keeps taking out credit cards and loans under my name and I don't know what to do about it.' What a wonderful conversation piece that would be.

"Y/N...what's wrong?"

His question startled you as you realized he was in front of you now, much closer than before, and even though this was the same man that fucked you over his desk this morning in a demanding and ravenous way, his expression was so gentle and full of concern for you.

"Uh, nothing is wrong." You smiled widely through your lie, putting on that convincing façade of cheerfulness to hide your agonized thoughts. "And I'm okay, I don't need anything for lunch, I am just going to-"

"It wasn't a suggestion." The sudden authority of his voice made your head snap up to look at him as he stared down to you with an expression that wasn't hiding his honesty at all. "Sukuna, but I don't...I don't have the-"

"...Money?"

Immediately your head dropped at his answer even though it was the most logical one for him to say. You already felt too overvalued from the other night when he took you out on that date, but that was a more proper setting for him to want to spoil you. Having a lunch break at work wasn't something he needed to spend money on you for. "I have no concern over money. Come on," his hand now reaching down to you. Looking at his hand, the one that made you feel so amazing the other night and this morning, the one that caressed your skin so gently, that cupped your cheek so softly, now presented to you again, made you want to simultaneously cry and smile. Swallowing tightly, trying to fight off that burning feeling in your throat, you hesitantly reached out to his hand, letting him pull you up from the chair and he gave a charming smile while gently touching the underside of your chin with his other index finger. "What else is looming in that head of yours? Nervous from your first day?"

Accepting that as a decent excuse to your mood, you gave a desperate laugh and nodded. "Yeah, just not completely confident in anything yet so, makes me nervous, but I think I'll get the hang of the meetings really easily. Its similar to ones I used to assist on in my old office." You lied, not about your job skill, but about what was really on your mind. It was so difficult to feel sad though when his attention on you.

Monday, 12:48 PM

Despite you trying to deny his offer for buying you lunch again, Sukuna just ignored it and walked with you down the sidewalk towards a small strip of cafes, obviously where a lot of people from other businesses go for lunch. Even on his break, Sukuna was checking emails on his phone, listening to voicemails from when he had his phone turned off in the meetings, and you smiled in subtle admiration while looking up to him as the two of you neared some places to eat. He didn't even have to look up as he walked, as if he had done this so many times, this path memorized easily.

He led you inside a delicious smelling café, and it was fairly full of several other business men and women, all enjoying time out of the office as they chatted about anything other than work. Just like the date the other night, you stared at the prices in shock, not even able to comprehend how any of this was affordable to anyone...but of course, this was nothing but pocket change to nearly everyone in this city... Sukuna had asked what things you enjoy eating and you gave a brief list to which he used to pick something out for you, knowing you would try to pick the cheapest thing even if you didn't like it. Biting your lip as he ordered for you, he glanced back down to you to ask what drink you'd like and you told him quietly, feeling as if you were a shy child who was too afraid to speak to the worker directly for your order.

After putting his phone away and paying for the order, he took a small number tag for when the order would be called out, and that large hand came to your waist again gently, just like in the restaurant, guiding you along side him to find a seat.

He occasionally checked his phone even after the food was ready, and he ate while simultaneously still conducting business on his phone, but also finding moments in between all of that to look up while holding a conversation with you. It wasn't the type of look and attention that seemed forced and only out of courtesy, but he looked at you as if you were just as important, if not more, than his food or work. "Need anything else?" He questioned as you had finished your food some time ago, having eaten it quickly as you had been quite hungry today, not really getting much to eat over the weekend while back at home with Touji. Trying to convince him with a shake of your head, he cocked a brow up at your stubbornness and took out his wallet, passing his credit card over to you. "Get something else, and get another coffee to go for me."

Staring at the platinum level, black credit card in your hand as you stood up in the small line at the counter again, you felt so terrified, holding onto it tightly with both hands, as if it was going to be snatched from you. Quietly asking for another small meal and the coffee for Sukuna, the total was rang up and the worker gestured to the terminal. Your shaky hand swiped the card through the terminal, preparing for it to say declined. Not having any money usable in your own bank account for so long, you weren't able to use your own cards. They always said declined as Toji had drained your account per usual and you'd always be left embarrassed, standing dumbfounded in the line at the store with a cart of groceries or other items you'd need at home but no money in your bank. When the terminal flashed the approved icon you released a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. The worker told you to just wait at the counter as it would only be a quick moment to get your order to you and you briefly glanced at Sukuna, only to get flustered as he had his cheek resting against his knuckles, watching you with a humored smile.

He was able to see the subtle excitement and relief on your face after you had swiped the card as if you weren't expecting it to work. But, it did work, and the joyous expression that came across your face brought him a feeling of elation...and he knew he wasn't going to be able to keep the need for that satisfaction out of his mind.

Monday, 5:00 PM

After saying farewell to a small group of new coworkers you had met that you'd be working closely with as well, you took a little notebook and looked around your office, jotting down some items you could benefit from having. Not that you could afford them at the moment, but hopefully when you got your first check, you'd be able to sneak some money out of the account before Toji got ahold of it all on his own. Though, the ever looming fear of possibly going to jail next week due to lack of payment tried to weigh heavily on your mind. You tried to simply forget it was even an issue, not wanting to accept that this was coming to an end for you before it even got to start.

If by some miracle you didn't have to go to jail, and you did really well at this job, you would definitely be able to pay off your debts, and maybe you could move out here, to get away from Toji for good. Wiping a couple of stray tears from the corner of your eyes as you stood at the windows of your office, you knew that was a fantasy that could never come to completion. Even if you could be financially secure once more, Toji wouldn't just let you go. He'd hunt you down, and drag you back home, just as he did every time... Feeling your phone buzz in your pocket again, you sniffled and tilted your head back, letting out a slight groan of irritation, knowing it was Toji harassing you again. Just as you were thinking of the bastard... Preparing for hateful words and ignorant things for him to tell you, you were surprised when his message came through saying,

-"I wont be home tonight. Actually I'll probably be out for a couple days. I have work to do. This damn place better be clean when I get home, and actually do a good job for once if you can even comprehend what that means."-

You briefly imagined the type of hell that would befall you if you ever nonchalantly sent a text to Toji saying you wouldn't be home for a couple of days. This was just another thing he did often, completely disappear for several days. It was the only time you were actually able to regain some of your sanity though, a couple days of peace so you could recover your strength both physically and mentally.  It gave you the opportunity of enjoying a bit of freedom without interruption. When he was tired of not having a punching bag, that's when he'd come back home.

Relief did wash over you though, knowing that tonight would be peaceful, and hopefully a few more nights as well.

"So, pretty thing, think you'll do fine here?"

That low, velvety voice from behind you plucked your fragile mind from its worries and thoughts, and you turned your head enough to see Sukuna in the doorway of your office, holding his suit jacket with just his index finger as it was draped over his shoulder. "I..I think this is a perfect fit for me. Its what I'm decent at doing, its what I like to do, and this office is incredible." You laughed while gesturing to the wide space, your eyes going back to his and you smiled shyly as he chuckled to your response.

"Do you think its better than my office?" Those pearly canines peered through his cocky grin and you're not sure what possessed you to return the same grin while putting your hands on your hips and facing him. "Sir, the only place better than your office, is your bedroom." As the words fell from your lips you immediately regretted it, surprised you were so blunt, however the sudden laugh that boasted from Sukuna brought some confidence into your statement of choice. Decreasing the distance between the two of you quickly, Sukuna approached, tossing his jacket onto the chair nearby, and his large hands sought out your cheeks gently, pulling your face to his while pushing his lips onto yours. Whimpering in bliss as his arms moved around your waist, your fingers gripped onto his upper sleeves tightly as his aggressively passionate kiss had you melting against his firm body.

Both of you left the office together, and neither of you mentioned any type of "goodbye" as you walked along side of Sukuna down the sidewalk in the direction of his apartment. It was pretty obvious where the two of you were headed...and with Toji mentioning he wasn't going to be home, you didn't have a single desire to hop on a train and head back at this moment.

And how could you want to go home to the empty apartment that was full of despair and misery when you were feeling so alive in Sukuna's bed? His deep and powerful thrusts making you gasp and cry from the pleasure you never knew existed before meeting him. Your nails left long and beautiful scratches down his muscled back, and the most satisfied groans left Sukuna's throat as he continued to fuck himself deeply into your sopping heat. One of his strong hands was up under your back, holding your body close and his lips were sucking tenderly at the slope of your neck, leaving wet and hot kisses between his pants. Your incoherent begs for him to 'please don't stop' only fueled his ambition to make you completely lose it even more on his fat cock, loving how you looked when your hands were desperately gripping the blankets at your sides because you couldn't handle the intensity of what he was doing to you. He blessed your quivering body with a powerful orgasm, and you creamed all over his cock as he continued with slow and deep thrusts, kissing your teary cheeks as you sobbed in bliss, your fingernails gripping onto his shoulders and leaving little crescent moons in their wake. Of course, he wasn't done with you, and one orgasm from you wouldn't suffice. He wanted you to be so dumb on his dick that there wouldn't be a coherent thought in your mind. And you loved it. Loved how he flipped you over to your belly and buried himself deep into your already oversensitive pussy, reaching his bruising pace as you clawed at the bedsheets ahead of you, pushing your face into the fabric as you screamed in ecstasy. "Oh no pretty thing, let me fucking hear it this time..." He let out a demanding growl, one hand holding your waist tightly and the other reaching for your hair, tangling his fingers into it to pull your head up from the blankets so your screams and cries would echo out into his room instead of being muffled. Your cheeks burned with a feverish blush, never imagining you'd be moaning in such pleasure in another man's bed, your boss's bed at that. And you never wanted to be anywhere else.

~Thank you so much for reading!! Comments and Reblogs are much appreciated! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) Next Part (Part 5)

[autistpride]

Talking about echolalia and scripting and the difference.

Echolalia is when an autistic individual repeats, or echoes, words, sounds, or phrases that they have heard.

Echolalia is often considered to be used more by those who are nonverbal, but all people can do it. Nonverbal is a term used by medical community to express that the person is unable to use language in a conventional "functional" way.

Echoing can be immediately after hearing something or delayed. Delayed is when the echo occurs later and sometimes in different situations. The delay could be hours, days, or even years later.

"Be careful so you don't fall!"

"careful, be careful, don't fall, be careful."

"Yup be careful."

"You did it!"

"Great job you're awesome!"

"Yes you are awesome!"

Echolalia is actually a normal part of early childhood development and expected of children during early language development.

However, in some autistic individuals they still use echo phrases past this developmental point.

As communication develops, either through verbal language, sign, pecs, or AAC than echolalia diminishes.

A lot of people falsely believe that it serves no purpose and no communicative meaning at all.

Echolalia isn't meaningless.

There are multiple reasons for echolalia.

-To declare that they heard the speaker

-to give extra processing time to understand and compose a response

-to request something

-to respond to a request or question

-to rehearse a situation

-to remember something

-to process and follow commands

-to provide conversation back and forth

-to give information

-to label and show recognition

-to protest or express joy

-to self regulate.

Scripting is the knowing repetition of words, phrases, or sounds from other people's speech. Such as an autistic individual reciting lines from movies, commercials, books, etc.

Scripting is language in the social sense as it has a purpose: to share meaning, to socialize, and to express feelings, communicate experiences, rehearse situations, and stim.

Scripting is seen as abnormal because the individuals are verbal, but the way we use our verbal language is not considered conventional.

Scripting for rehearsing is essentially practicing what we would say before we say it. Like when making a phone call, placing an order, or communicating with someone.

Scripting in social situations is a very common scenerio for all people, not just autistic individuals.

These society scripts are confusing to autistic individuals because we don't understand why the small talk or these questions are asked with no desire to an actual response. But following learning them, it's confusing when someone does not follow the script.

"Hi how are you?"

"Hello. I'm good thanks and you?"

"I'm good thank you"

This is an example of a social script. The first person doesn't actually want to know how you are and the second person responds with good even if they are in fact not doing well. They also know it's the social norm to ask that question in return.

When people follow the script most of society follows, it makes it easier for autistic individuals to handle social situations.

"Hi how are you?"

"Oh man today has been so busy."

In this situation the autistic individual either caused awkwardness to the first person by actually responding or the other person has caused confusion and anxiety to the autistic person by not following the social script and they initially may not not know to respond.

So to summarize, echolalia and scripting both serve a purpose!

"Actually I have heard those things, about a thousand times, but never have they been told to me with so much sass. Drop the attitude. You are acting like Garfield on a Monday."

"All right, well I'm not surprised. C'mon, let's go watch Wizards of Waverly Place!" ❤️

[geekygee01]

Won’t you be (mine) - Chapter 1- An Introduction

Series Masterlist

Pairing/s: Steve Harrington x Reader

Chapter Summary: After Nancy chooses Jonathan, Steve resigns himself to a life without love, until you walk through the doors of Family Video. He’s never felt this way about someone before, if this is what love feels like he never wants to let you go. There’s only one thing standing in his way, your fiancée.

Steve had first met you on a boring Wednesday afternoon. It had been another slow day at Family Video, made even worse by the fact that Steve had to open and somehow ended up needing to cover the closing shift too. Stupid Keith, all he could think about was finally clocking out of this nightmare. Although he'd just be leaving one nightmare for another, his cold and desolate home where he'd end up eating some shitty microwave meal whilst watching crappy reruns until he passes out. Only to rinse and repeat the process every other day, except Friday. On Friday night he will go on some unfulfilling date with a girl who's name he won't even remember in a weeks time.

This shift was meant to get better as Robin was scheduled to work the close with him, but all she had done since clocking in was complain about her day at school. There's only so much a person can listen to flute drama in a high school band before going insane.

"Are you even listening to me?!" Robins fingers wiggled right in Steve's face, jolting him out of his thoughts.

"Yes! Yes of course, Brenda is super annoying and can't even play the flute." Steve agreed with her points, trying to calm her down.

"Brenda plays the piccolo and that was the topic of conversation like five topics ago," she rolled her eyes at this so called 'best friend' "if you want me to shutup dingus just say so."

"What? No, I'm sorry, just a lot on my mind. I didn't mean to ignore you Robs."

"What's going on in that head of yours? Too many babes to keep track of?"

"Ha ha Robs, you know I'm not really into that serial dater scene anymore, I just want-"

"Yeah, yeah. You wanna meet your soulmate, I know. You say it every Monday and then come Friday you're off on another terrible date with the first pretty girl that gave you some attention," Robin sniped.

"Okay that may have happened in the past but this time I'm serious. I want a proper serious relationship with someone I could love, and I don't just mean the next pretty girl to walk through those doors-" Steve's rant was cut off by the little bell above the Family Video entrance signalling the arrival of a very pretty girl.

...

You rushed into Family Video, one arm weighed down by a bag of groceries and the other clutched some overdue movies. You walked up to the front desk and dropped your returns in front of a wide eyed employee. Even with the thud of cases in front of him he still didn't blink.

"Um, is he okay?" you asked the familiar female employee leaning on a counter next to him.

"Yeah, he's fine, he's just a dingus. Wait," she stretched herself out and kicked his shin, snapping him out of... well whatever was going on.

"HI!" he shouted "sorry, welcome to Family Video." His face flushed bright red which made you smile slightly, it was actually kind of adorable. "Um how can I help you?"

You glanced down at the movies you'd placed in front of him "I'd like to return these?"

"Right! Yes of course, you're returning these movies that you'd like to return," the girl by his side started laughing and he tried to subtly push her away.

"Yep that's right-" you glanced down at his name badge and froze. Steve? As in Steve Harrington? You tried to match this goofy video store employee with the asshole jock you went to school with, it's like some freaky body snatchers thing was going on. Was this the same guy? The badge didn't have a last name, but it had only been a year since he graduated and now that you thought about it he hadn't changed that much. Its surprising it took you that long to notice who he is, though its not like you ever really ran in the same circles. He probably didn't remember you either, if he ever even knew you to begin with. You wouldn't put it past King Steve to not even realise you existed, even if you did grow up in the same small town and share classes since first grade.

You were quick to empty those thoughts before your silence dragged on too long and got weird "that's right Steve," you smiled up at him and hope he didn't notice your weird lapse.

"Let's see, muppets, E.T and Scooby-doo which are... two days overdue," he looked up from the screen in front of him and you tried to hide your embarrassment,

"I know, I know. They were due Monday but between school and work and family drama it just completely slipped my mind, I am so sorry, how much in overdue fees do I owe?" you fiddled with the coins in your wallet and tried to avoid any form of eye contact.

"Uh, nothing at all. Yep it's a new policy, we don't charge late fees until after three days."

"Really?" you asked dubiously "Keith didn't mention anything about that when I rented them."

"Well that's Keith for you, very forgetful guy. Not sure why they put him in charge, it's a wonder this place is still running," Steve laughed awkwardly.

"Well I guess they must have impeccable employee Steve to thank for that," you smiled, still not completely convinced he was telling the truth. He tucked his hair and bashfully looked away.

"I don't know about all that," he deflected "are you looking to rent another movie?"

"Oh no not today, but I'll probably be back Friday," you smiled at the two workers and started heading for the door "I may just see you then."

It's only after you had left the store and the door had shut behind you that Steve whispered "can't wait."

...

You came back the following Friday to rent some films and Steve stumbled awkwardly through the entire interaction. His plans to flirt and charm had gone right out the window. He's not sure what happens when he's around you, it's like he's a different person.

He tried again the following Monday. And then Friday. And before he knew it it's been a month of seeing you twice a week and yet he's no closer to asking you on a date.

There's a tentative, easy friendship there and Steve enjoys getting to know you, but he just wants more. He wants more from the pretty girl with the great sense of humour. That finds his (and Robins) brand of awkward endearing instead of annoying. He's not sure how he never noticed you before, because to him you're perfect, but he's glad he's met you now.

"Today's the day," he announces "I'm going to do it."

"Do what?" Robin looks up from the magazine she's been flipping through.

"I'm going to ask out y/n."

Robin laughs and Steve is quick to scowl at her. "You've been saying that for weeks and yet you can barely get out one pick up line before blushing and stammering like a fool," Robin teases him.

"This time is different," he insists "now that we're friends it's easier to talk to her, which means it will be easier to flirt and then ask her out."

Robin just rolls her eyes and goes back to reading her magazine. Steve in turn rolls his eyes at her lack of faith and support.

Right on schedule you walk through the doors, sending a wave his and Robin's way. Steve is quick to wave back with a big smile. You briefly peruse the shelves before making your way to Steve, placing two movies down.

"The muppets and the Thing, bit of an odd combination," Steve smirks as he scans your films "you know I've heard The Thing can be quite creepy, might not want to watch it alone." he tries to subtly hint.

"Oh that's for my friend, he's been wanting me to watch it with him for a while and I've run out of excuses, so don't worry about little old me."

"That's great, wouldn't want you getting scared," Steve mumbled dejectedly, pushing your two films across the counter. But he's not backing out this time, you may not have picked up on his subtlety so he will just have to be more direct. "So listen, this might be weird or creepy and if it is you can totally ignore me and we can pretend this never happened-"

You can instantly see where this is headed and are quick to interrupt "I have a fiancee," he freezes and looks at you wide eyed "thank you for the films, now I need to get going because my daughter is a bit of a pyscho without her muppets fix." You quickly rush out of the store before things get too weird, or before you have to see Steve's crestfallen expression.

"A fiancee?" Steve mumbles to Robin, completely shocked "Wait! Daughter?!"

[goforth-ladymidnight]

A Second Chance, Ch. 10

@praetorqueenreyna @thrumbolt @taymartiart @northern-star-polaris @zivotzaruzi (Does anyone else want to be tagged or untagged?)

Pairing: Tamlin x Lucien

Wordcount: 4.6k

Summary: Tamlin and Lucien reluctantly part ways to go to work, where they each learn something that could change the nature of their relationship

Read on AO3, or read on below:

At 8:58 the next morning, Tamlin turned his back on the elevator so that he wouldn’t have to watch the numbers climbing, signaling the moment the doors would open and he would have to ride it down to the lobby, alone. Lucien’s car was in the parking garage on the other side of the building, but he had insisted on taking Tamlin to the guest elevator anyway. If Tamlin had known how their night together was going to go, he never would have accepted Jurian’s offer to pick him up. It was too late to change their plans now, but he wished he could, just the same.

As if sensing his somber mood, Lucien reached out and adjusted the knot of the white scarf around Tamlin’s neck. “So, what time do you get off work?”

Tamlin blew out his cheeks and thought about how much to say. “It depends on the day. We still have some leftover work from the weekend to catch up on, so we should be through by six. Why?”

“Mmm… I was thinking: Takeout.”

Tamlin blinked. “Takeout?”

“Mm-hmm.” Lucien walked his fingers up the length of the scarf. “Ordering out. Staying in. Watching a movie.” He pulled on the scarf to bring Tamlin’s mouth to his level. “Other indoor activities,” he murmured, then kissed him.

Tamlin breathed in his freshly applied cologne, tasted the subtle cinnamon flavor of his lip balm, and felt the soft wool fibers of Lucien’s coat beneath his fingers. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was dreaming, even though he was wide awake. “That sounds amazing,” he said with a sigh, then repeated the Scythian phrase Lucien had taught him. “You’re amazing.”

To his surprise, Lucien began to blush, and dropped his gaze as if to hide his grin, an impossible task.

“What? Did I say it wrong?”

“No.” Lucien reached up and smoothed out the lapels of Tamlin’s jacket, still smiling. “I was just thinking… your accent has gotten better. That’s all.”

“Well, I had a good teacher,” Tamlin said with a shy grin of his own.

Lucien’s eyebrows flicked up. “You certainly taught me a thing or two,” he teased, then pulled Tamlin down for another kiss.

The elevator bell dinged, and the doors opened behind them.

Tamlin pulled away reluctantly and sighed again. “I guess this is it,” he said mournfully.

“Oh, no,” Lucien declared, and stunned him by pulling him into the elevator by his scarf. “I’m not done with you yet.”

“But your car is on the other side of—”

Lucien’s mouth against his silenced his argument, and by the time the elevator doors slid shut, he was done trying.

Luckily, no one else called for an elevator before it reached the lobby. Not that Tamlin would have noticed, anyway.

Lucien’s head fell back against the gleaming wall of the elevator, breathing hard. “They really should invent a day that falls between Sunday and Monday,” he remarked, face flushed. “I could use another day of this.”

Tamlin was breathing just as hard as he gripped the railing for balance. “Yeah. Me, too.”

Just then, someone from the lobby stepped through the open doors of the elevator, and startled when he noticed them scrambling to stand up straight. “Oh! Are you boys getting off?”

“No!” Tamlin said quickly as Lucien said: “Yes”, then let out a shy laugh when he noticed Lucien smirking.

Lucien patted Tamlin’s chest. “Sadly, he is, but I’m not,” he said, then chastely returned his hands to his pockets. “Right, Tam?”

Tamlin reached for the elevator door as it began to slide closed. “Right,” he said shyly, then stepped through the opening. “Um, see you later, Lu.”

Lucien smiled like a pleased cat as he leaned back against the railing. “See you.”

Tamlin’s thoughts began to clear only when he reached the glass doors of the lobby. He could see Jurian’s vehicle idling under the awning, and beyond that, a fresh sprinkling of snow sparkled in the sunlight. He took in a deep, cleansing breath. Traffic was going to be hell, but on a day like this, absolutely nothing could spoil his mood.

As he pushed open the first set of doors, a distant voice called behind him: “Hey, Tam!” He turned to see Lucien trotting after him. “Tam, wait!”

“Hey, what’s the matter?” Tamlin asked worriedly, letting the door fall closed as Lucien caught his breath.

“You forgot something.”

“I did?”

Tamlin half-expected Lucien to reach for him and give him another goodbye kiss, and was surprised when Lucien reached inside his pocket instead, but his curiosity quickly overrode his disappointment.

“I meant to tell you before: I get off at five, so, just in case you get here before me…” Lucien reached for Tamlin’s hand and pressed something small and flat and metallic into it. “Here.”

Tamlin opened his palm and stared at what lay there in disbelief. “What’s this?” he asked, as though it wasn’t completely obvious.

“The extra key to my apartment,” Lucien said shyly. “If you want it.”

Tamlin let out an amazed chuckle and held it up. “You’re giving me a key, just like that?”

Lucien shrugged. “Yeah. I mean… I would have put a bow on it, but I didn’t think about it in time.”

Tamlin turned the small brass key over in his fingers, tracing the shape of the grooves in the blade, speechless.

“If it’s too much too soon, you don’t have to take it—”

“No, no. I’ll take it,” Tamlin said, which made Lucien smirk. “I just… I can’t believe you’re already, we’re already, um, you know, living togeth—well, I mean, not living together, but…”

Lucien chuckled. “We were roommates once,” he pointed out gently. “Think of this as just… picking up where we left off.”

Tamlin blushed as he dropped his gaze and nodded. “Yeah. Okay,” he said softly, then tucked the key in his pocket and sighed. “Would it be a cliché if I said I miss you already?” he asked with a shy smile.

Lucien’s answering smile was kind. “It’s not a cliché if it’s true,” he replied, then reached for him. “Come here.”

This was a much gentler goodbye kiss than the one in the elevator, but no less effective in the hunger that it caused.

Lucien must have felt it, too, for he did not release his hold on Tamlin when they parted. “I suppose it’s too late to call in sick,” he said huskily. His breath was warm against Tamlin’s mouth.

Tamlin tore his gaze away to look out the glass doors of the lobby where Jurian’s SUV was still waiting. “Unfortunately,” he said reluctantly, fingering Lucien’s fine wool collar. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Lucien’s countenance brightened at once. “Well, if you start feeling at all queasy, call me,” he said, straightening Tamlin’s scarf. “I’ll come and get you, tuck you into bed, and make you feel all better.”

Tamlin felt himself turn bright red as he let out an embarrassed chuckle. “You know, I am feeling kind of feverish,” he flirted shyly.

“Ooh, I hope it’s contagious,” Lucien teased, then kissed him again, briefly. “Go on, then,” he said, releasing him at last. “Before I become delirious and take you back upstairs with me.”

Tamlin couldn’t contain his foolish smile as he reached for the door. “See you later,” he said.

“See you,” Lucien replied, then took a step forward as if to follow. “Say, maybe I’ll pick up some chicken soup and dumplings for dinner tonight,” he remarked, putting his hands in his pockets. “Then afterwards we can play Doctor.”

Tamlin nearly fell through the door as it unexpectedly swung open behind him. He looked around, face burning, but no one else was around to notice. “Geez. Now you’re making me delirious.”

Lucien grinned an unabashed grin. “I knew it was contagious,” he teased, then jerked his chin at the door. “Go on. You have my number if you need me.”

Tamlin shook his head and chuckled, then released the door to wave. “See you, Doc.”

The warmth of Lucien’s pleased grin followed him out the door and into the SUV.

“Well, well. Good morning,” Jurian remarked as Tamlin slid into the passenger seat. “Where are your antlers, Prancer?”

Tamlin breathed a shy laugh as he buckled up. “Don’t you mean Rudolph?”

“Oh, no, not with that walk,” Jurian said, grinning as he shifted the SUV into gear. “You were prancing.”

“What? I was not!”

“Oh, yes, you were.” Jurian grinned as he drove through the parking lot. “You got laid.”

Tamlin’s face turned to flame. “Shut up.”

Jurian chuckled. “You know Dasher, and Dancer, Prancer, and Vixen,” he teased in a warbly sing-song voice. “But do you recall…”

“Jurian—”

“The most famous reindeer of alllll…”

Tamlin couldn’t help his embarrassed smile and hid it in his hands, even though the windows were tinted well, and there was no one else around to hear Jurian’s terrible singing.

Jurian chortled and reached over to pat him on the arm. “Relax, kid. I’m happy for you.”

Tamlin looked up at that. “You are?”

“Sure,” Jurian said distractedly, glancing over his shoulder as he pulled out of the parking lot and into traffic. “It’s about time you got lucky.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, but it wasn’t luck; it was a goddamn miracle. Tamlin watched Jurian carefully as he asked, “What about you?”

“What about me?” Jurian said, staring straight ahead.

“Did you get lucky?”

“Hmm… You seem awfully interested in your boss’s love life,” Jurian said evenly, then shot him a look. Don’t push it.

Tamlin barked an incredulous laugh. “You just sang the first verse of a Christmas song because of the way I walked, and now you’re pulling the employee card on me? What gives?”

“What gives is the less you know about it, the better,” Jurian said coolly, smoothly changing lanes.

“About what? Screwing your mark?”

“Hey.” Jurian pointed at him. “You don’t talk about her that way. Ever.”

Tamlin’s face flushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that…”

Jurian’s jaw tightened as he returned his attention to the road. “Yeah, I know,” he muttered.

They drove in silence for an entire block before Tamlin found the courage to ask, “Does this mean she’s not our mark anymore?”

“Like I said: The less you know, the better.”

Tamlin pursed his lips. “She’s my mark, too, so unless you plan on firing me, I think I’m entitled to know something.”

They came to an idling stop at an intersection. “You really want to know?” Jurian asked quietly without looking at him.

Tamlin’s heartbeat quickened. “Yeah. I really want to know.”

The light turned green, and Jurian smirked at him. “Too bad,” he said, then sped up with the rest of traffic.

Tamlin groaned and slumped in his seat. “You’re such an ass.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Jurian quipped, then flicked on the radio.

Ordinarily Tamlin would have sulked in silence for the rest of their commute, listening to the weather forecast and holly-jolly Christmas ads that coaxed everyone to buy-buy-buy in time for the holiday, but things were different now. He finally had someone else who cared about him, so he wasn’t afraid of being kicked out of the apartment if he pushed things too far. He reached over and switched off the radio.

“What the—” Jurian stared at him. “What the hell?”

“Watch the road,” Tamlin snapped. “You’re going to drive, and you’re going to listen.”

To Jurian’s credit, he did both, and carefully.

Tamlin took a deep breath. “If you want to sleep with Vassa, you’re right: That’s none of my business. But if you’re also going to turn around and turn in her whereabouts to some—some client, I need to know. Lucien and I are dating now. Even if we weren’t, I—I care about him. I’m already in too deep to be some kind of double agent.”

“So you did get laid.”

“Jurian.”

“Okay, okay. You made your point.” Jurian sighed loudly through his nose as his grip tightened on the steering wheel. “I wasn’t going to say anything until after we got to the office, but there is something you need to know.”

Tamlin’s heart skipped a beat. “About what?”

“About Vassa. I have to look into it first—you know, once I have access to her file—but I think…” Jurian blew out his cheeks, looking pensive.

“What?”

“I think she’s on the run from… from the Scythian mafia.”

* * *

Lucien was humming the tune to Silver Bells when he walked into Eris’s office later that morning.

“Knock, knock,” he called out cheerily, unbuttoning his coat.

Eris, who was on the phone, waved him in, distracted.

While he waited for his brother to finish his call, Lucien turned his attention to the elderly greyhound dozing on the couch in the corner of the office. More silver than grey anymore, the hound lifted its head when he approached, and its tail slowly thumped against the cushions when he reached out to rub it behind its silky ears.

“Hey, old man,” he said gently as it sighed and leaned into his touch.

“Hey, yourself,” Eris quipped, hanging up the phone. “I wasn’t expecting to see you so early, or at all, really.”

Lucien chuckled and gave the dog’s neck an extra pat before moving closer to shrug off his coat. “I thought I might as well come in and earn my keep.”

“Well, you picked one hell of a day to do it. Dad’s coming.”

“Ugh.” Lucien shrugged his coat back on. “Is it too late to go on a coffee run? I can be back in a couple hours—”

“We have coffee.” Eris pointed to the chair across from his desk. “Sit.”

Lucien grimaced and sat instead on the corner of the desk.

Eris sighed in a resigned way, and sat back in his ergonomic chair. “Well, before Zeus descends from Mount Olympus to strike fear in the hearts of we lowly mortals,” he began wryly, steepling his fingers, “I thought I should ask: Do you still want to proceed with your boyfriend’s case?”

“Of course I—” Lucien’s back straightened. “Wait. How did you know he was my boyfriend?”

Eris smirked. “Because I know you. You don’t know the meaning of: Take it slow.”

“So?” Lucien frowned and crossed his arms. “You could learn to take a hint. Mor’s going to break up with you if you don’t make up your mind soon and propose.”

“She already has.”

Lucien winced. “Oh. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Eris said, sitting up with a tight smile. “She and her new girlfriend are very happy together.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, well.” Eris sighed. “I can’t say I’m surprised. Whenever I took her to the ballet, we were both looking at the ballerinas’ legs.”

Lucien was too surprised by this information to ask how Eris noticed. He thought that everyone was staring at the men in tights on stage.

Eris continued, “I just don’t want you to be surprised when I show up to the work Christmas party with a different date, that’s all.”

“You already have another date?” When Eris nodded, Lucien whistled. “I take it back. You’re no slouch after all.”

Eris let out a wry chuckle and leaned over to open a bottom drawer in his massive desk. “I don’t dare. Nesta is a dancer. If I slouch, I die.”

The old greyhound’s collar tags jingled as it moved off the couch and padded over to Eris, tail wagging, apparently hoping for a treat from that bottom drawer. Naturally, Eris had one.

As he watched Eris run his hand over the hound’s lanky frame as it chowed down on a bit of jerky, Lucien realized something. “Oh, I get it. Nesta is the owner of those legs you were looking at on stage,” he teased.

Eris gave his dog one more treat before sending it back to the couch with an affectionate pat on the flank. “Like I said, Mor and I were over a long time ago,” he said quietly. “We were both looking.”

Before Lucien could ask more about his brother’s new paramour, Eris produced a dusty-looking phonebook from the same drawer and thumped it on top of the desk.

Tapping his finger on the once-glossy cover, Eris said, “If you still want to proceed with your boyfriend’s case, I’m going to need some questions answered first.”

“And you think you’re going to find them in the city directory?”

“Not me. You.” He slid the phonebook closer. “Look under P for Private Investigators.”

“Me? Why me?”

“Because I’m older and I say so.”

Lucien grimaced and took the phonebook in hand. “Don’t we have temps for this sort of thing?” he complained, riffling through the pages.

“I want to do this off the record until I know more about the situation,” Eris explained, dusting off his hands. “Besides, all hell is going to break loose when his High Lordship arrives, and I don’t want anyone distracted.”

Lucien’s finger traced over the surprisingly small number of listings of private investigators, and he sighed. “Do we have to do it this way?” he asked quietly.

“Do you have a better idea?”

He didn’t, but it seemed wrong, somehow. Distrustful. “You swear this will be off the record?”

“I’ll pay in cash. If this goes poorly, no one needs to know we were involved. And if it goes well… Well, they still don’t need to know,” Eris said with a dismissive shrug.

Lucien took a deep breath. “Fine,” he agreed, though reluctantly. “How about this one?” he suggested, pointing to a simple ad with an eye in the center of a ring. It was quiet. Clean. It helped him feel less… dirty for spying on his boyfriend.

“Fine by me. Read me the number,” Eris said, reaching for the phone on his desk.

As it began to ring, Eris put it on speaker, and Lucien panicked.

“What am I supposed to say?” he hissed.

“You’re not,” Eris hissed back. “But I’m not doing this by myself.”

Before Lucien could say anything else, the voice on the other end picked up.

“Thank you for calling J. P. I., where we put the Private in Private Eye. How may I help you?”

Eris leaned in. “Yeah, hi. I’d like to inquire about a comprehensive background check for someone.”

“Certainly, sir,” the man on the other end said, sounding as though he were rummaging for a pen. “Just a moment… Now, is this background check for a potential employee, or someone else? And remember, don’t be shy; we put the Private in Private Eye.”

Before Eris could reply, Lucien reached over and ended the call.

“What—Hey!” Eris frowned at him. “What did you do that for?”

Even though Lucien’s finger was still pressing down on the switch hook, his ears continued to ring. “That was him,” he said hoarsely.

“Who?”

Lucien swallowed hard. “Tamlin.”

* * *

“Are you still there? Sir?” Even though the line had already gone dead, Tamlin tried again. “Hello?”

“What’s the matter?” Jurian called out, searching through one of the many piles of paperwork that needed to be filed in one of the rickety metal filing cabinets lining the tiny office.

“I don’t know. I guess he just hung up,” Tamlin said with a frown, and returned the handset to its cradle. He carefully swiveled around in the creaky office chair but still nearly knocked over a stack of printer paper. “I told you that was a stupid slogan.”

“What’s the point of running your own business if you can’t have a little fun with it?” Jurian quipped, then shot to his feet with a triumphant cry. “Ah-ha! Found you, you sneaky bastard.”

“Who, Koschei?”

“Yep,” Jurian said, smacking the file folder with his free hand. “What do you say we do a little research on our good friend, here?”

Tamlin grimaced and fiddled with the pen in his hands. “I don’t know. If he’s really part of the Scythian mafia, maybe we shouldn’t—”

The phone on the desk began to ring again, a tinny sound in the small space.

As Tamlin reached for the receiver, Jurian remarked, “Need I remind you that we put the Private in Private Eye? We’re not going to get caught for—”

Tamlin shushed him and put the receiver to his ear. “Thank you for calling J. P. I., where we put the Private in Private Eye,” he recited dryly. Jurian gave him an exaggerated wink and a thumbs-up. He sighed and continued, “How may I help you?”

“You are the one who speaks Scythian, yes?”

Tamlin’s blood ran cold as he recognized the deep, heavily accented voice. “Um, only a little,” he admitted, but he didn’t feel like telling the man how amazing he was. “Jurian,” he hissed and pointed at the receiver. “I think it’s our friend.”

Jurian’s curious smile vanished, and he quickly took the phone as he traded places with Tamlin. “This is Jurian,” he said carefully, then nodded as he sat back in the office chair. “Da,” he said, then covered the mouthpiece as he looked up and whispered, “Get me the Scythian Study Guide.”

Tamlin wordlessly did as he said, retrieving the dictionary from its place on the nearby shelf among the other guidebooks they had—Caring for Your Camera, Birdwatching for Beginners, Visiting Vallahan, and Job Hunting for Dummies—but Jurian didn’t seem to need it.

As he conversed with this client, whether it was Koschei or one of his associates, Jurian spoke calmly and fluently, thumbing his way through the dictionary as if it were a magazine instead of a reference. Even his accent had improved. It seemed that Vassa was just as good a teacher as Lucien.

And speaking of Vassa, Tamlin straightened up when Jurian said her name. Even though he didn’t understand the language, he could tell that the conversation wasn’t going well. Jurian’s face hardened as the voice on the other end grew louder. Swearing, he guessed, and cutting Jurian off when he tried to explain... something, before inevitably getting hung up on.

Jurian jerked the receiver away from his ear. “And the same to you, asshole,” he muttered before carefully returning it to its cradle.

“What was that all about?” Tamlin asked as he watched Jurian run a hand through his unkempt hair.

“What do you think?”

“Vassa,” they said simultaneously, then they both sighed in unison.

Tamlin lowered himself carefully onto the corner of the desk so that it wouldn’t wobble, but it wobbled anyway. As he returned his pen to its jar, he asked, “So, what did you tell him?”

“I said that we had run into unexpected delays and needed more time to track her down.”

“And what did he say?”

“Oh, he called me a—you know what? I’m not sure it would translate all that well,” Jurian said with a wincing smile. “But don’t worry. I’ve heard worse.”

Tamlin blew out his cheeks and looked away. He’d certainly heard his fair share in his years working for Jurian. “So, what do we do now?”

Jurian tiredly scrubbed at his face and groaned. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going to not smoke really, really hard.”

Tamlin winced. Even though he didn’t want to know more, he had to know. “And Koschei?”

“He can smoke in the pits of hell for all I care.”

“Does that mean we’re quitting?”

Jurian heaved a deep, resigned sigh. “It means that we have twenty-four hours to give him Vassa’s whereabouts, or we’re off the case.”

Tamlin perked up. “Hey, that’s a good thing though, right? We still have half the money. We can just quietly back out and…” He faltered when Jurian shook his head.

“It’s not that simple.”

“It’s not?”

“No, because now that Koschei knows that she’s here, what’s going to stop him from hiring another Private Investigator?” Jurian pointed out. “Someone who doesn’t care if Vassa gets hurt, or who helped her out by paying for her very pricey, very private hotel room.”

Tamlin’s blood ran cold. “You mean Lucien.”

Jurian nodded grimly.

Tamlin got up and rubbed the back of his neck as he turned around to stare out the grimy window. “There’s no way out of this, is there.”

“Not unless you know any other redheads in Prythian who just so happen to speak Scythian.”

Tamlin sighed, then whirled around with a sudden idea. “Lucien does.”

Jurian made a face. “Nice try, but in case you hadn’t noticed, Lucien is male.”

Tamlin ignored that little jab and braced his hands on the desk’s flat surface. “All Koschei wants is a photo of a redhead who matches Vassa’s description,” he said, getting excited. “I’m not saying Lucien could pass for Vassa, but I am saying that we could take a photo of any redhead in Prythian and say that we think it’s Vassa.”

Jurian’s head jerked back in surprise as he thought it over, then he shook his head. “And put an innocent girl in harm’s way? I don’t think so.”

“Koschei will know it’s not her. He’ll have no reason to go after her,” Tamlin insisted. “Maybe it will make him think he’s looking in the wrong direction. Who knows? Maybe he is.” When Jurian tapped his chin, looking thoughtful, Tamlin pushed himself away from the desk and added, “At least it will buy us some time.”

Jurian didn’t respond at first, but opened the file folder on the desk to peruse its contents. “Koschei did say he would pay us once he received the photos,” he mused.

“So, as long as we provide him with some photos in good faith…” Tamlin offered.

“Then there’s no reason to suspect we’re lying,” Jurian finished.

Tamlin spread his hands in an innocent shrug. “For all we know, your Vassa is just an innocent tourist,” he pointed out.

Jurian smiled sadly to himself. “My Vassa,” he said quietly, then nodded. “Okay.”

Tamlin grinned. “Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay,” Jurian said, pushing himself away from the desk. “Let’s pull a fast one on these goons.”

Tamlin’s courage faltered for a moment. “Wait. If they’re actually goons—I mean, if they’re with the mafia—what if they try to come after us?”

Jurian waved dismissively. “Koschei isn’t going to pay us for giving him the wrong photos. Besides, it’s not about the money anymore. It’s about keeping Vassa safe.”

Tamlin breathed a laugh and shook his head in wonder at how much Jurian had changed in a few short days. “You’re amazing,” he said proudly in Scythian.

Jurian’s chin jerked back, and he spread his hands in a confused way. “I, uh… Thank you,” he said, giving Tamlin a little bow. As he straightened, he smirked. “Did your boyfriend teach you that one?”

Tamlin felt himself begin to blush. “Yeah. Why?”

Jurian shrugged and slid the Scythian Study Guide closer. “You might want to save that little phrase for him, that’s all.”

When Tamlin took the book in hand to look it up, Jurian stopped him.

“Later. First, we need to figure out a plan. We only have twenty-four hours to make this work.”

Tamlin nodded, both excited and relieved at this turn of events. He was surprised that he didn’t feel more guilty, but this wasn’t like before, when he had lied to Lucien to save his own ass.

If this worked—no, when this worked—he wouldn’t have to lie to Lucien ever again. After tomorrow, there wouldn’t be any more secrets between them. There wouldn’t have to be. He could finally move on and live his life freely. Once and for all.