#manila face reading

[bi-writes]

ok i have this idea for alpha!ghost and omega!reader. this is a very, very rough draft and is not even close to anything with real meat, but i would like to get some early feedback about this idea i have.

"I'm not here as a friend," she says softly, and you frown a little.

"Aren't...haven't we always been friends?" You ask, and Kate lets out a shaky sigh, nodding her head behind her.

"We need to talk. C'mon."

You retrieve the gun and holster it, fastening it around your thigh holster before you follow her. She has a car waiting outside, a big, black SUV with the door already open for her. When you get inside, she knocks on the divider, and the car immediately starts moving. You brace yourself against the side of the car as it speeds off, reaching for a seatbelt.

"Jesus, Kate, what's going on? I-I have training later, I can't--"

"You're not...going back to base," she says evenly. You frown a little, leaning back in your seat, and you put your hands in your lap as you try and get a read on her. Even exhausted, Kate is hard to decipher. She has a stone-cold expression, calm and unbothered, and you curse her CIA training for making her impossible to understand, to even get a glimpse of what she might say next.

"Okay," you scoff a little. "Then where am I going?"

Kate sniffs a little, crossing her arms over her chest. She doesn't break eye contact with you when she says, "Wheels up in 30. I have an assignment for you." She reaches under the seat, pulling out a manila folder, setting it down beside you. When you pick it up and flip it open, you narrow your eyes.

"I'm..." You shrug your shoulders, "I'm not CIA. You don't give me orders."

"As of one hour ago, you're mine. And this...this is your duty."

Your eyes blur as you skim the text on the pages. You flip through the papers flimsily, getting more and more irritated until you throw it at her, your chest rising and falling fast as you pant, barely able to see her through your tears.

"Kate, don't do this," you beg her softly. "Please don't do this. Please. You fucking promised me, you promised--"

"You need to understand that I don't have a lot of fucking choices," she says sharply.

"Kate, I'll do anything, please," you gasp. You reach over and grab her hands, tugging her towards you. "You know. You know what...w-what I've been through, what this all is, you know...please. Please..."

"I can't--"

"I'll be yours," you try, squeezing her palms. "Just claim me yourself, a-and...and we don't have to do this, w-we can...I-I can go back to--"

Her face contorts, offended, disgusted. You try and swallow down the sting of her rejection, but you cannot help yourself. You would do anything to not be subjected to this fate, to the fate she promised she'd save you from. The only alpha you have ever trusted, and she's pulling away from you, bit by bit.

"I could never do that to you," she interrupts, shaking her head. "I couldn't."

"But you'll do this instead?"

"It's the lesser evil," she says finally, pushing your hands back. "And in my world, that is the best I can hope for."

"It's punishment!" You cry, and she reaches over, cupping your cheeks, pulling you close. "A-And for what? For being something that I can't change?!"

"It's mercy," she whispers. "I can't protect you anymore, do you understand? They don't want you there. Even taking meds, even spraying yourself to shit, they don't want you, and I can't protect you if they send you away, do you understand me?" You start to cry, closing your eyes, and you hear the familiar voice in your head sing. She's desperate, slipping through the cracks, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you try and force her backwards. "I have to get you out of there, and this is the only way."

"Please..."

"I can't protect you," she says gently. "But he can. And he'll be good to you. I promise, this...this I can promise."

[mygnolia]

LOVE ON A FRESH SLATE ༄ TEASER

༄ SYNOPSIS -› Sim Jaeyun might not have many critically acclaimed films in his IMBD, but if there’s something to change that, it’s his upcoming film, ‘diving in love,’ a fresh summer romance that’s caught the attention of everyone on the internet. The only problem is, no one believes the chemistry will be up to rom-com standards. Maybe he’ll save his career by fake dating his cold-hearted co-star, aka you, to sell it?

༄ PAIR -› actor!sim jaeyun x fem actress!reader

༄ GENRE -› fluff, banter, angst, comfort ༄ TROPES -› enemies to lovers, heavy on the fake dating (i LOVE fake dating) ༄ WC -› estimated 15-20k idk lolz

༄ INCLUDES -› will be added!

༄ RELEASE DATE -› november!

༄ REN SAYS... me when summer also haha get it slate cuz they're actors but also it's e2l so misunderstandings heheheh am i funny (im not) | LIBRARY

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“You’re going to tell me you signed me up for the cult of Scientology, I assume,” You introduce yourself, shaking hands with the man next to Sunoo. 

Once again, there is just one empty seat before Jake Sim walks in, out of breath. “Jungwon, please don’t tell me–” He notices you after he barges in, taking in your poised manner as you wait for him to continue. But he doesn’t. The words die on his tongue when he sees you and the same manager from last week's meeting. 

“Please don’t tell me what?” Jungwon asks, raising an eyebrow as Jake sinks into the only chair left. The latter shakes his head, not wanting to elaborate any further. 

Sunoo sits up, putting his hands together after he finishes the last sip of his drink. “Open up the files, ____.” He motions to the manila folder on the table, and with much confusion, you peel back the cover to find a neat stack of black and white articles. 

Jungwon, who you can only assume is Jake’s manager, gets Jake to lean in and read what’s on the pages. “This,” he starts, spreading out the rest of the articles, “is every article in the past week with a negative outlook on whether or not the film will be up to par with the standards of the 2000’s.”

You scoff, eyes trailing over an article with your face as the cover. “Really? People hate me that much?” Your dry humor really only resonates with Sunoo, who sends you a look before trying to organize the flurry of papers.

“I doubt they’ll keep going,” Jake tries, fidgeting with his ring. Maybe his second rich person problem was figuring out how to get the media to like him again if the movie turns into a failure and he has to scour for another source of income. 

“Unless I solve world hunger, I doubt the media will turn away from the wine scandal any time soon.” Jake considers dropping out and cutting his losses early with the way you comment on your impending future. 

Jake’s manager shakes his head, closing the manila folder and essentially blocking it out before coming up with the worst possible plan in existence. 

“You two can fake date. Then, no one will question your chemistry, because they’ll think you’re in love.” 

There were only so many things you refused to do in your lifetime, but fake dating your co-star made it to the top of your list in record time. 

You shook your head. “Absolutely not.” At least Jake could agree with one thing you said. 

The silence almost turns awkward before Sunoo speaks up in agreement, ignoring you. “I like it, it’ll give them a chance to pretend to bond more. Plus, they’re both young and attractive, and Jake is a change of pace from all of her shitty ex-boyfriends.” If Jake still wanted to jump off a building after hearing their proposition, you’d unknowingly want to join him. 

You cough in your arm, hiding the embarrassment of his last comment before nodding to look at the actor. “You think just because I’m dating someone, it’ll make the movie more watchable?” 

Sunoo rolls his eyes. “I’d much rather watch a rom-com if it was confirmed that the actors found love on set. It’s a good story.” 

Jungwon interjects. “Good publicity.” 

The actor beside you finally speaks up. “And you want to start this arrangement…when?” 

“As soon as possible,” your manager answers, and his response might be some of the worst news you’ve heard in a while. “Hear me out, ‘____ ____ and Jake Sim falling in love the moment they’re casted. It’s fate. They’ve been in love since the beginning. I have to see it, their chemistry will be so good.’ ”

Before you nor Jake are able to come up with a rebuttal, Jungwon adds, “I know both of you can act, and even despite this fake relationship, the movie will be good. But if you can get away from the negative thoughts surrounding the film’s pre-release, it’ll generate so much more hype around it.” 

“Better for your conscience, ____. You don’t need angry Sunghoon fans sending you anymore death threats.” If Sunoo kept airing out your problems like that, you’d drag him out by the ear without any fake boyfriend in tow.

You really think about it, questioning if one PR stunt could get you out of the nepo baby ditch you’ve been trying to fight for years; it wasn’t even that you were bad at your job, your mother just never had anything nice to say to anyone. If anything, she was Hollywood’s actual mean girl.

“Fine.” You agree begrudgingly. 

Jake on the other hand has no idea what he’s getting out of this. How does fake-dating a girl he’s never liked help his reputation at all?

Maybe it’s because he couldn’t find an answer to it, or maybe Jake was comfortable enough asking something so brash in public. “What the hell do I get out of it?” 

You lean back in surprise, not used to hearing him so flustered by something. It was all your fault, Jake thinks as he once again pulls at his hair. 

The room is silent as everyone’s gears turn. Jake puts his hands on both sides of the armchair, about to get up and pretend this failure of a ruse ever existed. “If there’s nothing, I’m-”

“Wait,” you cut him off, eyes still fixed on something as you think. It’s good for you, and mainly you. Jake has a good reputation, people love natural chemistry and love a cute couple even more, and your name would be in summer-y titles for the next two months if your scheme worked out. But him? 

What could Jake Sim possibly want? 

“You want money? Connections? An interview with Justin Beiber?” You try, spewing what every boy would want when they were 13. 

Somehow, his head perks up when he hears his favorite celebrity’s name from your lips. 

“You could do that?” He asks, bewildered. 

“I thought you hated me for having a famous mom.” He stays silent. 

“Look, you’re up and coming. If this movie does well, I’ll send a letter to the top producers in the industry and tell them about how stunning of a performance you gave.” 

It’s a deal that’s extremely hard to pass on–hell, he’s literally getting paid to act in the movie anyways, so it’s not like he loses much if he says yes. But you’re snarky, and although you’re not outright rude, you never seem to be excited for anything, and Jake has no idea why the mood is so sour when he’s with you.

Whatever, it’s not like it’s real, anyways.  

Jake shrugs and pinches his nose bridge momentarily before sighing. “Where do I sign?” 

You thought that Jake had been oblivious to the whole thing as much as you were, but it seems like he knew about a hidden contract. Jungwon fishes out a crisp white sheet of paper from his bag. “You know me so well, and I didn’t even tell you anything,” and his response has you thinking that maybe the actor just knows his manager well. 

Suddenly, the next year of your love life is signed and tucked away into two identical copies for Jungwon and Sunoo, before the two shake hands and smile. “I’m excited for how things will go,” your manager comments before you two leave. 

The moment the door shuts behind you, you let out a long exhale, suddenly finding interest in your manicure. 

“You’re annoying, Sunoo. But I don’t doubt you.” 

The boy smiles and links arms with you, walking to the entrance of the studio building before you both catch wind of the paparazzi. 

A swarm of reporters and cameras catch your casual outfit and sunglasses when you emerge with your manager behind you. Questions bombard you, and you hear amongst the commotion a few reporters who are desperate for their next article to feature you. ‘Is it true that you’ve hated Sunghoon for years?’ ‘What do you have to say about your new film?’ ‘Do you have anything to say about Jake Sim?’ 

You pause momentarily on the way to your car, reconsidering if you should answer any question. “Me and Sunghoon have never had a disagreement, and I know he appreciated the Prada we sent him a few weeks ago.” Smiling at the memory, you choose to answer a few more questions before you have to go. “As for the new film? I’m fairly excited. Me and my boyfriend are more than ready to be filmed together." 

The gasps from the crowd leave you content as you slip into your car with Sunoo. “But don’t tell anyone I’m dating!” You yell out for good measure, knowing that by morning, everything will have changed.

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[gloomwitchwrites]

Locker Room: Part Two

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: swearing, rough kissing, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, desk sex

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: originally for @glitterypirateduck 's Ghost Writing Challenge, this is the follow-up to Locker Room

Part One // SImon's POV

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

Like the steam from the locker room, your irritation soon evaporates. It floats away until all that’s left is this gnawing, twisting sensation in the pit of your stomach.

What the fuck were you thinking storming into the men’s locker room like that, demanding that Lieutenant Riley show his face?

You weren’t thinking. That’s the entire problem. You were angry—and rightfully so—but you didn’t even consider where your actions were leading.

The reports are just fine, sweetheart.

Just thinking those words sends your stomach twisting all over again. You need to cool off. To calm down. While you’re not exactly angry anymore, there is a needy sensation crawling beneath your skin.

Lieutenant Riley was entirely too forward. And this nonsense about staking a claim? Hardly. You are your own person. Lieutenant Riley isn’t allowed to have a sliver of you unless you say so. Speaking it into the air doesn’t make it the truth.

You slam your office door shut and lean against it, resting your head in your hands. Taking a deep inhalation through your nose, you exhale through your mouth. Repeating the process helps, but it is momentary. Fleeting.

You’re tense the rest of the day. On edge. You keep glancing over your shoulder thinking that Lieutenant Riley will appear like a phantom. It’s silly, because he doesn’t. You don’t see him at all. Even as you push through your lunch and consume dinner in your office, you don’t see him.

He doesn’t come by. No one mentions him.

But the sticky note is there. It’s still stuck to the front of the manila folder.

The reports are just fine, sweetheart.

With your newly blooming irritation comes the creak of door hinges.

“What?” you snap, glancing up.

Lieutenant Riley stands in your doorway. He as one hand on the handle and the other on the doorframe. For some reason, you expect the towel, his wet skin, and the steam from the locker room, not this behemoth of a man covered nearly head-to-toe.

He does not reply to your sharp tone. Lieutenant Riley saunters in, shutting the door behind him. Without looking, he pulls the little strings on the blinds, cutting off the view of the hallway. He even locks the door, and in this, he still doesn’t glance back. Every movement is fluid. Smooth. Natural.

It’s sexy. And fucking irritating.

“Come to fix your reports?” you ask, leaning back in your chair. You twirl your pen end-over-end. It’s keeping you from looking away from him.

Lieutenant Riley says nothing. He strides forward—all of three steps as the office is a fucking closet—and snatches the manila folder off the desk. He opens it up, glancing down at the content.

You cross your legs and attempt to relax your shoulders. You don’t want Lieutenant Riley to know that he has an affect on you. Already, your body wants to lean in his direction. It wants to give him attention.

And that will not do.

“What’s wrong with them?” he finally asks, flipping a page.

You stop twirling the pen. Start clicking the end. “My notes are right there. Can you not read?”

It’s not very nice of you, but it’s simply defense. Fuck the reports. If they’re garbage, you’ll submit them anyway. You just need Lieutenant Riley out of your office. You need some goddamn space. It’s far too hot in here. Too cramped.

Lieutenant Riley glances up from the report, and it is then that you know you’ve completely fucked up. It’s that same piercing stare from the locker room. You’re stabbed through. Gutted. He sees you for who you are, and there is no way out. No path for you to take.

Slowly, Lieutenant Riley closes the folder. He holds it out and then drops it onto your desk. His arm returns to his side.

He is so large like this. So much more intimidating.

“Are we fucking here? Or elsewhere?” His delivery is so bland and straightforward that you don’t believe you’ve heard him correctly.

You stop clicking the pen. “What?” you nearly squawk, sitting up in your chair.

“I said—”

“I fucking heard you, Lieutenant.”

“Simon,” he growls. “I told you to call me Simon.”

In the steam and heat, he did say that. And you grabbed his dog tags, yanked him down to your level, kissing him through the balaclava in response.

You also told him to fix the reports. And here he is.

“Simon,” you begin, and then pause because his hips sway slightly as he shifts toward you. “What are you doing?”

Simon comes around to your side of the desk. There is a sultry sway to it, a confidence that steals your autonomy. He walks right up to you. Leaning forward, he reaches out, placing his hand on the top of your chair, boxing you in.

“Are we fucking in this room?”

“We’re not—”

“—or am I taking you home?”

You swallow, heat flaring up your neck to flame your cheeks. “Aren’t you here to fix the reports?”

It’s a diversion. A way to turn the conversation. But Simon doesn’t take the bait.

“Pick,” he says, voice low.

“Simon.”

“Want me to pick for you?” He arches a single eyebrow.

All the steam and bluster are gone. You’re melting. Submitting. You feel it deep in your bones.

“Back up,” you murmur, but even you hear the weakness in it.

Simon shakes his head. His other hand comes up, the backs of his fingers brushing along your jawline. It’s a gentle touch. You reflexively lean into it.

“I think you want my cock now, love.”

You jerk backward, but Simon is quick. He has you out of your chair and sitting on your desk in moments. You’re completely flustered, hands digging into his biceps as Simon settles himself between your legs, his hands on your waist.

“Better,” he says, sounding content.

You blink and then smack his chest. “Simon Riley!”

“My full name?” he purrs. “That’s a nice change.”

“You presume too much.”

“Do I?” he counters. He releases your hips, placing his hands firmly on either side of you. “Then explain that kiss earlier.”

You swallow, knowing that he’s caught you. There is a need that sits between your bones. A need for him, even if you don’t want to admit it.

“It meant nothing.”

“No, love.” He shakes his head. “It didn’t. Try again.”

Simon is caging you in. Splitting you open. Why should you run? Why should you not admit your feelings? If anything, the two of you can fuck on this desk and get whatever this is out of your system.

“I was angry. I wanted to push you.”

The balaclava around his mouth stretches. He’s fucking grinning.

“Here I am.”

“Here you are,” you agree.

Simon’s dark gaze shifts to your lips. “Without the balaclava this time?” His gaze returns to your face, and there is intense need there.

You reach out, slip your fingers underneath, and push the balaclava up. Slowly, you reveal Simon’s chin and lips, then the tip of his nose. There are scars, but that is not what you’re focused on. You’re focused on his lips, and he yours.

Leaning in is agony. You long to close the distance, and yet there is hesitation in the way you bring your face closer to his. Simon senses it too, because he grabs the back of your neck, and closes the distance.

There is no gentleness in the way Simon kisses you. His need is apparent. Aching. He is a devouring beast, and you meet him with equal enthusiasm. Simon’s tongue passes between your lips and you open for him. You taste mint and black tea with the faintest hint of smoke. You commit this taste to memory.

Simon’s hands are everywhere, squeezing waist, thighs, and hips. There is no pattern to it. There is only desperation.

Growling, Simon pulls away. He grabs hold of the collar of your button up shirt. Tugging, Simon pops the top three buttons. They go flying, disappearing from you.

“Simon,” you gasp, but it’s all you can manage. His mouth is on yours again, and that large hand is slipping inside, palming your breast.

“Fucking hell,” he moans into your mouth. “I need to be inside you.”

Begging. Simon is begging. You’ve never heard this. Simon is the stoic one. Calm. Cold. Calculated. But he’s kissing you with hunger, and his hips rock against you, the sensation almost more than you can handle.

“Then fuck me, Lieutenant.”

Simon chuckles, and he smiles—actually smiles—before grabbing your waist and bringing you to your feet. With his hands still on your waist, Simon turns you around, facing you away from him.

His hand slide forward and easily undoes the front of your slacks. Simon tugs them down enough to expose you to him.

“Fuck,” he mutters, fingers sliding between your thighs to play with your pussy.

The contact is electric, and you push back against his hand. Simon rests his face against the back of your neck.

“You’re already so fucking wet for me,” he says against your skin.

His fingers find your clit, and the moan you let out is obscene. Simon strokes until your pussy clenches as your wetness floods his palm.

Glancing over your shoulder, Simon brings his sticky fingers to his mouth. He sucks them clean.

“My turn, love.”

With a sharp tug, Simon forces your slacks down to your knees. He bends you forward slightly and your hands press into the top of the desk to keep yourself steady.

The angle is tight, overly so. When Simon notches the head of his cock at your entrance and beings to push in, it feels far too large.

“Simon. Simon. Fuck—oh. Fuck.”

“You can take me, love. Just breathe. That’s it.” Simon moves your hair to the side and his mouth comes down on your neck, leaving behind gentle kisses as he rocks his hips.

Once he’s in to the hilt, Simon adjusts. One arm crosses over your stomach, his palm coming to rest between your hands that are pressed against the top of the desk. His other hand is on the front of your throat.

His lips brush against your ear, and then Simon thrusts. It’s not slow. It’s not gentle. This one makes him grunt with effort, and the desk hinders all forward movement.

Simon’s teeth nip at your earlobe. The distraction works, causing your mind to temporarily drift from his withdrawal. The thrust forward makes you gasp, and then it is unending.

There are no words spoken, only heavy breath. Sweat blooms on your brow, and runs down the back of your neck. Simon’s weight is relentless, and the pleasure building in your core again is a taunting thing. It wants to explode, to roar outward, to consume you.

You don’t have space to slide your hand between your legs. Instead, you arch your back, bringing your ass up slightly. It gives Simon a different angle, and this time you shiver. Shake. Thighs quivering as your orgasm crawls up and out your throat.

The moment you start to cry out, Simon turns your head toward him, his mouth coming down on yours. He swallows your pleasure, matching it with his own. He grinds forward, his release flooding your pussy.

Your chest heaves as Simon pulls back.

There is nothing else in room. There is only him, and his dark eyes.

Slowly, Simon eases himself from your pussy. He reaches over and grabs a tissue, cleaning you up the best he can before tossing it into the trashcan beneath your desk. Then his hands are drawing your pants into place.

He guides you around to face him, closing the zipper and putting everything to right. He even fixes your buttonless shirt as best he can.

“I’ll replace it,” he says.

“It’s fine, Simon.”

The two of you stare at each other, the silence stretching. You’re not sure what he might be thinking, but his gaze hardens.

“You’re off tomorrow,” he states, not asking.

“I am. How—what are you doing?”

Simon has his phone out. He’s tapping away at the screen and then the little whoosh of a text sending off reaches your ears.

“You’re coming home with me,” he says, slipping the phone into his pocket.

“You—”

“Told Price I’d be in late tomorrow.”

“You can do that?”

Simon shrugs. “Price can manage.”

He takes a step back, his gaze observing you. “You’re a right mess.”

“No thanks to you,” you mutter, smacking his chest as you push past him.

You snatch up your purse and work bag, glancing up at Simon just as he returns the balaclava to its original place.

He saunters up beside you and extends his hand. You take it, and Simon draws you against him, gaze never leaving your face as he guides you to the door.

You doubt that you will come back from this.

Simon is not out of your system.

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[xsleepinggoodx]

Mikey x reader short drabble!

timeskip: 19 year old Mikey. Yknow that one Mikey before manila? The one with the short blond hair? That one!🥰

Slight NSFW warning!

………………………………………………………………………………

You and Mikey were in the most heated make out sessions you ever been in. In his garage room, in his bed, on his lap, and door locked. The tension was real. His shirt was off and his veiny arms were around your waist, squeezing every so often. Your hand cupping his cheeks as you both fought for dominance—he wins every time though.

You letting out whimpers every so often as unravels you. Your hips grinding from time to time. You guys done it before, but not really often. You’re busy with college as he is he. He spends time hanging out with Toman, you’re there too ofc, but every so often, you two share intimate stares. He’s drilling his eyes on you when you’re laughing with Baji or Mitsuya. You’re admiring him as he tells a funny story. Again, the tension is there but you guys simply didn’t have alone time together, especially not sexually.

Now you guys finally were able to hang out, alone. Telling him stories from your college as he listens, replying with similar stories, him telling you crazy moments from his fights with Toman. Playing games with him, reading together. But it just got so heated, his loving gaze on you as you read the book and when you finally looked at him back, he pounced.

That’s how it led you guys here, tongues wrapping around each other as saliva drips down your lips. When you final let go for air, panting heavily with your lovesick eyes, he smiles lovingly as he catches his own breath.

“You said you had a bad day?” You asked, tracing his collarbone.

“I already told you about it, I really don’t wanna think about it.” He pouts, already rolling his eyes.

He told you about how annoying this one gang was, the leader trashed his bike terribly. Now it was in Draken’s motor shop in repair, he couldn’t ride it for a week.

“How bout I help you relieve some stress?” You asked innocently. “You always help me…I wanna make you feel good..” you said, your eyes resting. He

He looked confused but then it finally clicked.

“Baby, you don’t have to-“ he started before he got interrupted.

“But I want to, I wanna make you feel good..please~?” You stared at him, with your begging eyes. Oh your eyes, only if you knew how much he adored and admired you.

He nodded slowly. “Please baby, I need you.”

You giggled as you got on top of him, your hips sitting on his. His head looking up at you as you captured his lips again, before trailing your soft lips down his chin, neck, finally his chest. You sat up and clutched the hem of your shirt.

“Do you want me to take it off?” You said, teasingly.

“You really don’t have to.” He said hesitantly.

“Mikey~~” you teased as you giggled.

“Yes please” he begged shamefully. You knew Mikey was good with his words, getting him to beg was always tough, but you knew how to melt him. That’s why he loved you so much, you always challenged him. Which is not something he received often. You smiled as you chucked taking your shirt off, revealing your baby pink bra. The bra stap perfectly falling off your left shoulder.

You smiled as he admired your face, then his eyes traveled down, admiring your goddess-like body. He always knew he hit the jackpot, but now it’s official. He couldn’t help himself as he rose up and kissed you, trailing down your chin, then to your neck. Leaving hickies behind. You let out a soft hum as he continues, nipping your sweet spot, his hands where they were once on your waist were now softly cupping your breast.

He grinds his hips on yours, earning whimpers from you.

“Fuck, I love you so much, baby” he said, his voice muffled from his attacks on your cleavage. You softly scratched your fingers through his messy golden hair. Rewarding yourself with his kisses.

“I l-love you too~” you said. Love honeyed your voice. You were definitely down bad for him. The best part is that so was he….

…………………………………………………………………………….

Enjoy everyone, sorry I didn’t go all the way. I’m not confident in my NSFW writing skills🫣

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

to many more | s.r. x liaison!fem reader

“what’s your favorite book?”

spencer looked away from his open files to turn in his chair to see you standing behind him, a couple of manila folders held close to your baby blue long sleeve dress shirt. he had to keep his eyes from dropping lower to get a glance at the curves that hugged to your black pants.

he coughed as he blinked a few times behind his glasses, “uh, well there’s- there’s too many to choose from. if you’re asking about general literature i’d probably say-“

you held a hand out with a shaky smile, “sorry. don’t mean to interrupt. but um, i’m asking if there’s a book or story that’s very meaningful full for you.”

spencer straightened his mouth, feeling it form into that usual line. he let his mind scour for a moment, “uh maybe… alice in wonderland. my mom used to read it as a bed time story from time to time in between narnia and fifteenth century literature. she used to read me valentines poems.”

he saw your brows raise for a moment, “that’s sweet. which did she recite the most?” you readjusted the files.

spencer tapped his fingers over his thighs, “mostly chaucer’s parlement of foules. The poem, which is in the form of a dream vision in rhyme royal stanza, contains one of the earliest references to the idea that St. Valentine's Day is a special day for lovers…” he stopped short when he saw a bored expression draping your face. “sorry, rambling.”

your eyes widen and you took a step closer, “no, no. you’re fine. your voice soothes me, probably looked a bit drowsy.”

spencer scrunched his face, “most people would look tired cause i’m boring them to sleep.” he saw your face fall at his words, he didn’t like the sight.

“well i like hearing your information. i find what you know quite fascinating, like last week you told me that flamingos feathers are actually white or pale gray, but appear pink cause of algae and shrimp. i would’ve never know that.” your smile pushed your cheeks, pupils beaming alight as he felt them ghostly tracing his face.

bashful your eyes directed to your feet, “i enjoyed our date last week.” moving some fingers to run behind your ear, “i’ve always wanted to visit the planetarium, but never found the time.”

spencer smiled fondly, “i’m glad i was able to get you the chance. sometimes they do thirty minute segments on each zodiac sign, it’s when i see a lot of ‘psychics’.”

you chuckled lightly, spencer’s grin widened. “i should take you to one for fun. just to test how real they are.”

he couldn’t help rolling his eyes, “don’t waste your money.” you shrugged simply, “could be a fun third date. she can verify that we’re a match.” giving your upper body a slight twisting at the waist.

before spencer could say anything in reply, you both turned to see hotch calling you from his upper office. “shit, forgot i had to drop these off. i’ll see you later.” and you stepped into his space to lean in an leave a kiss to his forehead. he could feel the residue of your fading gloss. he was happy there wasn’t many people in the bullpen, he didn’t want to deal with morgan’s teasing right now.

the only possible person to have witnessed that display would be hotch. “reid, a word,” his stern voice causing him to flinch in his seat. he quickly made his way up the steps and into the office, closing the door behind him and standing beside you with his hands behind his back. he wasn’t planning to have this conversation a month early.

“is there something you both would like to inform me on?” hotch letting either of you confirm your new relationship instead of assuming.

“uh,” you started to say before spencer interrupted more confidently, “y/n and i are currently seeing each other. it’s only been about two months.” he turned to you, eyes locking and both of you smiled at each other, “but i’d like to believe this will last awhile.”

“well,” hotch cleared his throat, “since you’ve probably read through the handbook spencer, there isn’t anything wrong with fraternization between employees. i would just need both of you to fill out some paperwork.”

you both nodded in agreement. “and please, try not to let this distract you in the field. otherwise you’ll have to be in separate rooms, hotel and assignments.”

“yes sir,” giving a playful salute as he dismissed you both. you decided to pull spencer by his hand in the direction of your, shared office, already knowing jj was busy elsewhere.

“i hope that was-“ you spun into spencer, palms on his cheeks as your lips pressed onto his. he went still for a moment, but you knew he just needed a second to process. his fingers curled along your hips, his warmth seeping through your fabric and onto your skin.

you sighed into his mouth as he worked your lips apart, taking the lead he moved both of you further into the office. your thighs hit the edge, a small gasping allowing for spencer to boldly slip his tongue into your mouth, your heart was pumping in your ears.

if you weren’t in the office you’d let your greedy fingers start to work at unbuttoning his shirt, but instead you were stopped short when someone groaned out, “holy shit!”

spencer was the first to jump away and you saw that penelope and jj were at the threshold with jaws dropped and bugged eyes. “you freaky love birds!” penelope screeched.

“i need to burn this room,” jj groaned as she turned on her heels.

[ebodebo]

Tough As Nails—Cowboy Like Me!

thinking about cowboy!simon riley… | part four |

<- previous

The beginning of August usually brings the peak of summer warmth, but unfortunately for you, it seems the end of July supplied the real heat—just not in the ways you had expected. 

Even all of two weeks after your encounter with Sam, you seethed. Harsh anger and heat spread through your being, boding for a tiny little catalyst to ignite your flame. And you weren't the only one feeling the feverish heat.

To say that Simon was angry would be a gross understatement. A storm has been brewing inside him ever since he pulled up to that shitty dive-bar, seeing you sitting on the dirty curb, smudged mascara dripping down your plump cheek, tainting your beautiful face, eyes blood-shot and swollen. Your voice strained and cracked as you said his name, questioning if it was really him. 

The real nail on the coffin was what you had confessed to him in his truck. Sam had insinuated you were a slut. Simon's muscles tightened, and his jaw clenched every time he remembered what that deprived asshole told you. The only reason he didn't flip the truck around and speed back to that dive-bar, grab Sam's sorry-ass out of the seat he sit in, and slam him into the wall, was because you had pleaded he didn't.

He was gracious to you by respecting your wishes, but this ordeal festered in him too much to leave it untouched. Simon was a God-damn machine with no impulse control. A loose-canon. And this canon was ready to blow right through that city-slicking prick's front-fucking-door. 

Which was preciously what he did.

Simon threw himself inside his truck at about eleven at night, a Manila folder tucked gently away in his jacket, not even bothering to strap on his safety belt as he drove to that bastard's house. Simon hoped, prayed, that Sam was asleep so that he could be the one to jerk him out of his peaceful slumber and make him wonder if he was in a nightmare. 

He halted as his truck brushed against the curb in front of his house, turning off his engine and stepping out of the truck. He scoffed as he took in the sight of the house. It was huge, no, enormous. Creamy, muted blue paint coated the paneled front and sides of the house, and a classic picket white fence encased the backyard. 

Two white Range Rovers and a white Porche sat in the driveway, along with two golf carts sequestered to the right side of the house. Simon noticed the Porsche's shit parking job and dirt-covered windows and noted it was Sam's car, just for future reference. 

After his observations, he casually strolled up to the front door, pressing a little bell encased in a palm leaf cover. It didn't take long for Simon to hear the soft pad of feet descending down what he assumed was a staircase. 

The door swung open to reveal a disheveled Sam; clearly, he was asleep. Simon smiled internally. Sam's eyes looked like saucers when he realized it was Simon. His face paled like he had seen a ghost or something.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Sam spit, perplexed at Simon's presence.

"Came to chat," Simon says cooly. "Preferably outside."

"Fuck no." Sam gnarls. "You need to leave my property."

"Ah." Simon tuts as he reaches into his jacket to grab the nicely tucked-away Manila folder. He carefully opens it and reads the first couple of lines. 

"Ryan Jennings worked for Capitol Guild Investment Firm before it was found he had embezzled a million—"

"Hey, hey. Where the hell did you get that?" Sam quickly supplied, stepping away from the door to try and snatch the folder from Simon's grasp. Simon jerked away from him, holding his finger up as he continued reading. 

"—dollars from the firm's clientele, though no legal action was taken, Jennings was to return all assets, estimating one million dollars, and issue his resignation promptly." Simon neatly closed the folder, eyeing Sam.

"So, as I said," Simon began. "Let's talk outside." Sam sighed deeply before turning to close the door gently.

"I have my resources." Simon casually says, stepping into the grass on the front lawn, with Sam following suit.

"So, what, what do you want? Money?" Sam timidly asks, running his hands through his hair.

Simon lets out a gruff laugh. "Money? You think I want money?" 

"You don't?" Sam questions, unable to believe a man like Simon could be doing this for more than monetary gain.

"You don't talk to her. Ever." Simon roughly says as a sly smirk spreads across Sam's face.

"Is it that good?" Sam smugly asks, placing his hands in his sweatpants pockets.

"The fuck you talkin' about?" Simon cocks his head, narrowing his eyes at Sam. 

Sam shrugs. "Her pussy."

Without warning, Simon lunged forward, his fist aiming straight at Sam's jaw. An immediate stinging pain spread that radiated through his face and head, making him falter back. Blood seeped out of his mouth, and a faint ringing noise could be heard in his ear. But, he quickly gained momentum, his own fist coiling like a spring.

He unexpectedly connected his punch to Simon's face head-on with a swift, decisive motion. Busting his bottom lip, with blood seeping down his chin and jaw. Simon quickly spit out some extra blood onto the grass before grabbing Sam by his shirt. 

"I know guys like you." Simon roughly says, his own blood and spit spurting onto Sam's face. "Pretentious little bastards who only think about themselves." 

He gripped his shirt tighter, making him slightly hover above the grass. "I bet you'd blow yourself if you could." He grits out, forcefully throwing him onto the ground.

"Stay the fuck away from her." Simon wipes his lips with the back of his hand as he turns to go to his truck.

"You know I'm not like that anymore," Sam speaks, making Simon roll his eyes. Simon turns to face Sam, who is still on the ground.

"You can change your name. Run from the city with your tail between your legs, but nothin' can change the greedy fuckin' animal you are." 

With that, Simon turned away and went straight for his truck, leaving Sam to sulk with the ants.

On the drive back to the ranch, Simon regretted not doing more to Sam, but Sam had a worse punishment than Simon releasing his venom on him: living the rest of his life as a nobody with his legacy cloaked in disgrace. 

Simon pulled up in front of his house, hissing as the cold air brushed against his busted lip, as he stepped out of his truck. He pulled open his front door to meet you sitting on the couch in the living room. 

"You haven't been answering your phone." You somberly say from your position on the couch, not noticing his busted lip and bruised face because it was dim where he stood.

"I know." He ducked his head, not moving closer to you, not wanting you to see him so clearly in the light.

"Come here." You pat the cushion next to you, tilting your head as he turns to go to the kitchen instead. You stand, following him to the kitchen, observing him as he fills a glass full of water at the sink, his back to you.

"You should be asleep," He gruffly says, taking a sip of the water, swirling it in his mouth to remove some of the coppery taste, and spitting it into the sink.

"Don't change the subject." You scowl, moving closer to him, bringing your hand to touch his own gently.

"Why won't you look at me?" He takes another sip of water, this time swallowing it.

"Cowboy?" You softly urge, your fingers gently brushing his forearm. He takes a deep sigh, though his lip quirks at your nickname.

"Please look at me." There is a pleading note in your voice. He takes a longer sip of the water, swallowing, before slowly turning to face you. Your eyes widen as you observe the purple bruises covering various parts of his face, his busted lips caked in dry blood, and the blood dripping down his chin and jaw pooling onto his shirt.

"What happened?" You quietly question, raising your hand to brush your fingers along his lip delicately.

"Ah, just some shit." He vaguely says. You narrow your eyes at him, but you see it in his eyes. He was tired. Worn-out. It could wait until tomorrow, you thought.

"Okay. I won't push tonight, but tomorrow, we will talk about it." You affirm, giving his arm a soft squeeze. He nods as you grab his hand, lacing your fingers and dragging him into the bathroom.

"In the meantime, let's get you cleaned up."

You made him sit on the toilet seat as you reached under the sink to grab an emergency kit. You opened the kit and grabbed some alcohol and some gauze. 

"Si, you need stitches." You say, observing a muscle of his lip sticking out.

"You can do it." He assures, looking up at you. 

"Last time I checked, I don't have a medical degree." You laugh out.

"It's easy. Just need some dental floss and a needle." He reaches into the kit and grabs a needle, bending it into an arc, and a pack of dental floss. "Learned it in the military."

"You were in the military?" You question washing your hands before taking the needle and cleaning it with some alcohol to sterilize it. 

"Course I was." You smiled down at him as you wiped his lip with some alcohol.

"How long?" You ask, throwing away the cotton pad.

"Long time." He vaguely answers with a slight smile.

"You're always so vague." You roll your eyes as you step between his legs, bringing your hand up to grip under his chin, tilting it up slightly. He brought his hands to rest on the sides of your thighs, lightly massaging the fat.

You hold the sides of his lips together, carefully suturing the skin back together. You had no idea what you were doing, but Simon didn't say anything, so you assumed you were doing alright. 

Simon flinched as the needle pierced his skin, coming in and out of his lip. His eyes fell shut as you worked, occasionally twitching, his hands still kneading your thighs. 

Once you finished, you cleaned up the area, put away the kit, and threw away the needle. 

"Forgot somethin.'" Simon huffed, still sitting on the toilet seat. You raised your brow, giving him a curious look.

"What?" You question, leaning against the counter facing him, your hands on your hips.

He pressed his pointer fingers to his lip, slightly puckering them. You brought your hand up to cover your mouth as you let out a laugh, walking over to him and pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"I could use some more." His lips form a smirk, just beckoning you.

"Ya, I bet you could."

a/n: idk why i include an authors note bc i literally don’t say anything interesting

divider!

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[avis-writeshq]

omg omg please for track four of your event 🙈 we know that sparks fly!reader calls spencer ‘Walter’ but can we get the first time he calls her ‘angel’ please???? 💕💕

l.d.s.k – spencer reid [bonus 'sparks fly' chapter]

summary: in other words, the first time spencer calls you an angel pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff warnings: rated 15+ for general criminal minds violence, canon compliant with s1 e6 ‘L.D.S.K’, a hint of Derek slander oops, not beta read wc: 2.2k a/n: many many apologies for the delay anon! i hope this can live up to your expectations! sparks fly masterlist | event page

“Reid failed his qualification,” Elle tells you as she makes her way into the bullpen looking flawless as ever. 

Her words bring you out of your daily crossword puzzle, your brows furrowing. “He failed?”

“Well, he can re-test in two weeks,” Gideon says dismissively, making his way over to the water dispenser.

Elle shrugs, craning her head to look at him. “They took his gun this morning,” she replies. She looks back over. “Be gentle.”

“I’m always gentle,” you tell her, harshly erasing a wrong answer in your puzzle. “Was that not already obvious?”

“I’m not talking to you,” Elle responds swiftly, her gaze set on Derek’s forehead. 

Derek is quick to raise his hands in surrender, but the glimmer of amusement sparks in his eyes. You narrow your own just as Spencer comes walking through the glass doors with Gideon following behind him. The young doctor looks dejected as ever, the grip he has on the strap of his bag so tight that his knuckles blanche. 

He slumps down onto his desk beside you, turning the computer on with a scowl. You open your mouth to say something, an attempt of making him feel better, but Derek beats you to it.

“We’re all here for you,” Derek says, noticing the way Spencer avoids his gaze. “I’m serious.”

It starts off well. Spencer finally begrudgingly looks Derek in the eye, an unimpressed look on his face.

“If you ever need anything,” Derek continues, fishing something out of his pocket. You lean over the desk divider to get a better look, but apparently you don’t need to. A shrill whistle sound fills the air, and Morgan snickers in jest. “Just blow on that.”

Spencer’s face falls into a stern frown as he hurries to rip the whistle off his neck, throwing it onto his desk. 

You try once more to offer any form of condolences but your efforts are once again cut off by JJ carrying a stack of manila folders and passing them off to the team. You don’t pay much attention to what she’s saying (something about a shooting and three victims?), your gaze fixed on Spencer’s troubled face. The others rattle off about long distance serial killers and profiling, and you can’t help but feel a little bad for your lack of contribution, but your thoughts are filled with more pressing matters. 

After the briefing and Hotch saying a simple, “Wheels up in twenty”, you turn in Derek’s direction as you stuff your bag with files and random pieces of stationary. Elle sits within earshot, packing her own things. 

“Why are you so mean to him?” Your voice carries no malice and you don’t look in his direction at all, head down as you furrow through your go-bag.

Derek’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“To Spencer,” you clarify, “like, just now. He was already in a bad mood. You didn’t really have to say much else.”

“I’m just… toughening him up,” Derek says with a shrug. 

“This job would do that by itself. Spencer doesn’t need to ‘toughen up’, and this job doesn’t need your help to do that, either.” You lift your shoulder noncommittally. “I think you’re just insecure.” 

Elle cackles at that, stifling her laughter behind her fist while Derek snaps his head in your direction. “Alright then, I’ll bite. How am I insecure?”

“You’re a classic alpha male, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing, but you’re an alpha male who is in a work environment where almost every other man is also an alpha male. Spencer is the opposite; he’s more timid which, again, not a bad thing, and he’s also more intellectually gifted.” A wry smile spreads across your face as you hoist your bag off your desk and sling it over your shoulder. “You’re insecure that he’s smarter than you and because he’s the quote-un-quote ‘weakest’ of the pack, you just can’t help but pick on him.”

“Reid and I are friends,” Derek says defensively. “And come on, you can’t tell me that you don’t his ramblings a little bit annoying.”

You hum. “I don’t find them annoying. Even if I did, I wouldn’t cut my friends off when they’re talking about something they find interesting.”

Spencer doesn’t mean to eavesdrop. He swears that it was never his intention– he just forgot his wallet on his desk after everything that happened that morning. Regardless, hearing you defend him in such a way is enough to make his stomach flip.

He’s barely known you for two years. He joined the team a little after you did, granted, he was a permanent addition to the team while you at the time was just interning as a part of the course you were taking. It was only after a very long discussion with Hotch that you became a solid member of the BAU (you told Spencer all of this while you shook out your hands and by extension the nerves you experienced when you were seated in front of your boss’s desk with your resume. It took everything in him to not grab onto your hands and hold them firmly in his). 

Even when you were an intern and only at work two out of the five workdays, Spencer was able to find solace in you. He didn’t really understand the logistics of it, much to his chagrin, but he has chalked it up to you being a little younger than him and feeling that slight twinge of ‘protectiveness’ over you. It doesn’t make sense, he gathers upon second thought, you don’t need protecting. Despite that, he finds himself gravitating to you as if you were the earth and he was the moon. You, full of life and all things wonderful, and him, a dim light that he hopes could brighten up your darkest nights. 

He doesn’t think that that comparison is accurate enough, is the conclusion he comes to when he hears you chastise Derek for his lack of compassion. It isn’t so much ‘chastising’ as it is stating a fact. Spencer thinks you’re an angel and that everyone should kiss the floor you walk on. His head spins with facts about angels and their origins. He mumbles the facts under his breath, considering all the different backgrounds of angels and the connotations of viewing you as such. Spencer scrunches his nose in annoyance. He’ll be thinking about this the entire flight. 

*** 

You sit next to him during the flight. Your hands are in your lap as you fiddle with your fingertips, almost as if you’re contemplating something. Spencer glances at you expectantly from the corner of his eye, ignoring the book he is supposed to be reading.

“I know I shouldn’t really have to say this, but don’t worry about Derek,” you tell him through a hushed whisper. “He’s just being an idiot.”

“Yeah,” Spencer says, trying to not look fazed about the situation. “I know.”

You shift again in your seat before playfully flipping his collar upwards. “I like this shirt on you. Red is totally your colour.”

He thinks it’s pathetic, the way his eyes light up and the way he physically preens at your compliments. “There have been studies on the colour red and how it may impact one’s perceptions of others. Actually, it has been found that seeing the colour red can cause an elevation in blood pressure, enhanced metabolism, and a spike in heart rate which are all physiological changes associated in increased energy levels. Another study showed that those who wear red are perceived to be more sexually appealing than those who wear other colours.”

His cheeks flare in embarrassment upon realising the insinuation of his words and he hurriedly backtracks. “Not that I was expecting anything! It was just interesting and–”

“Walter, it’s fine.” You laugh, rolling your eyes. “It’s okay! You’re right, it is interesting.”

Spencer doesn’t think you’re an angel anymore. He knows it. He manages to crack a smile. “You think so?”

You nod enthusiastically, looking over at him. “Tell me more.”

He thinks that he might faint.

*** 

The hospital is under lockdown. Your head spins when you see SWAT making their way through the lobby, armed in heavy bulletproof uniform and guns that are at least half your height. You’ve never had to work a situation where they had to be called and the severity of the situation sinks in. 

“Hotch and Spencer will be okay, right?” You ask worriedly, glancing over to where Gideon is trying to negotiate with the captain.

“They’re good at what they do,” JJ reassures gently, squeezing your arm. “I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

Gideon returns with a disgruntled frown, gesturing with annoyance towards the SWAT team. “They’re taking the ER in three minutes.”

“That’s it?” Your words are quiet as you try not to attract the attention of the people in said team. “So, what, Hotch and Spencer need to talk down a crazy armed sociopath in three minutes?”

“It’s like they don’t even want our help,” Elle says through a grumble. “What’s the point of asking us here if they’re not even going to listen to us?”

Somehow, those three minutes are both the longest and shortest three minutes of your life. There’s nothing you can do except wait and even then, the hospital is borderline silent. You’re not necessarily sure if that’s a good thing. You watch with the others as SWAT trek up the stairs in formation, and you wring your hands out nervously. Time continues to tick by and just when you’re sure that you’ll be stuck here for the next however many hours, a loud bang rings through the hospital. It’s so sudden that you jolt on the spot, your head snapping towards the door. 

A few civilians, all accompanied by SWAT agents, make their way through the doors and towards the ambulances stationed outside. You follow them out, taking in a breath of fresh night air while a shiver runs down your spine from the cool breeze. Everything seems to be in order and everyone seems to be calm and collected. That must be a good sign, right?

Spence grimaces from his spot on the back of an ambulance, rubbing at his lower torso. The pain isn’t that bad anymore, but it does feel a little raw from where Hotch repeatedly kicked him. His face is bruised from where Phillip Dowd hit him with the back of his rifle. The gun he used feels heavy in his pocket and he genuinely isn’t used to it being there. 

“You alright?” Hotch asks. He’s using a softer tone, one that Spencer isn’t particularly accustomed to.

Spencer nods, his arms crossed over his stomach. “Yeah.”

“Nice shot.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “I was aiming for his leg.”

Hotch looks a little amused before he continues, “I wouldn’t have kept kicking but I was afraid you didn’t get my plan.”

“I got your plan the minute you moved the hostages out of my line of fire,” Spencer says genuinely, nodding.

“Well, I hope I didn’t hurt you too badly,” Hotch says guiltily.

Spencer can’t help but laugh quietly. “Hotch, I was a twelve year old child prodigy in a Las Vegas public high school. You kick like a nine year old girl.” He pauses, offering the gun back to him.

“No, keep it,” Hotch says, patting Spencer squarely on the shoulder. “As far as I’m concerned you passed your qualification.”

Spencer offers a smile as his boss walks away, his gaze meeting yours as you hurry over to him. “Hey–”

“Walter, your face,” you lament with a frown, reaching a hand out to brush against the bruising.

Spencer flinches, hissing softly and you pull back. “It’s still a little sore.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, glancing again at his injuries, worry laced in your tone and etched upon your features. 

“You’re an angel,” Spencer says softly in a daze, watching the way the flashing lights from the ambulance.

Heat travels up towards your cheeks at his words and you press the backs of your hands against your face in an attempt to calm yourself down. “I’m not an angel.”

He’s in too deep to try and backtrack so he nods. “You are,” he says honestly, looking up at you from where he sits on the ambulance. “And if you can call me by my middle name, doesn’t that mean I can give you a nickname too?”

“Well, I guess,” you relent, your heart still aching at the sight of the bruise on the side of his face. 

He beams at you as he pockets the gun. “Alright, then, angel.”

Your cheeks grow hot again and this time you feel the blood rush to your ears. “It’ll take a while to get used to it.”

He laughs. “But you’ll get used to it.”

“I heard what you did in there,” you say swiftly, effectively changing the subject. “You don’t need that whistle anymore.”

Spencer nods and smiles. “Yeah. Thanks, angel.”

“Anytime, Walter.”

reblogs are always appreciated!

sparks fly masterlist | event page

[kpopflowerfield]

Pro Bono | ljb

ღ pairing: attorney! lim jaebeom x stenographer! reader, jb x afab!reader

ღ word count: 7k

ღ genre: smut

ღ rating: nsfw mdni

ღ warnings: first date hookup, tipsy sex, unprotected sex (wrap up), dom!jayb, creampie, teasing, cursing,

ღ networks: @k-vanity

ღ authors note: A HUGEEE thank you to @seokgyuu for beta reading!! and a thank you to @lovetaroandtaemin for the banner!!

I tried to put as much research as i could find into this ㅠㅡㅠ If something isn’t 100% I apologize please ignore it!!

ღ summary: lawyers were off limits. you had to tell yourself that after you were too amazed by Park Jinyoung. He left you with nothing but a heartbreak and distaste for your job afterwards. But once you walked into court one morning and caught a glimpse of Lim Jaebeom, the new pro bono lawyer. Your eyes couldn’t be removed from him.

You checked the time on your watch. Tapping your foot anxiously in the crowd of people who are waiting for their morning cup of coffee as well. You heard your name and quickly managed to move around people until you could grab your cup. You thanked the barista before running out,the cold breeze burning your cheeks. You knew it was probably a bad idea to stop for coffee before work, but you needed it. You didn't know what you were in for every day you went in, but some little voice in the back of your head convinced you it was worth stopping for a quick drink.

You tapped the button on the crosswalk, waiting for that little white icon to pull up. You finally took a sip of your drink,the warmth slowly reaching your insides. You had to drink as much as you could now since you had to go through security once you arrived at the courthouse. You quickly crossed the street, your heels clacking against the pavement as you walked into the courthouse. You quickly drank what you could before throwing out your cup.

"Hey! Y/N, how are you today?" Jackson asked. He was always so friendly and easily one of the best faces to see when starting your day. "Good, how's it been here?" You questioned, placing your bag in the tote and taking off your belt before passing through the metal detector. "It's been slow; I don't think anything too big is going on today," He smiled, sliding your bin down so you could get your belongings. You whisked your belt on and grabbed your bag. "I'll see you when I leave!" You grinned at him before walking to the desk.

"Good morning," You smiled brightly at the clerk and showed your badge. "Good morning," Yunhee grumbled. You watched as she turned around after clicking on her computer for a few moments and handed you a manila folder. "Thank you," You took it carefully, putting your badge away. You quickly looked at the papers. "Okay, courtroom two," You nodded to yourself. You didn't want to spend too much time at the desk as Yunhee was clearly in a bad mood. You walked off, finding your courtroom.

You sat down in your chair, adjusting yourself to get comfortable and look at the case. "Oof, robbery again," You flipped through quickly, processing what you could before the court was in session. People slowly trickled in as you sat up, putting your folder away. You heard the sound of the briefcase hitting the table, and your eyes shifted that way. You stared at him for a moment, wondering why they let the defendant in so soon, especially without a lawyer. You kept studying him as he sat down, noticing the shine from his nose ring and the anti brow piercing in his cheek. He was beautiful. You couldn't think of another way to describe him.

You quickly looked away, not wanting to stare for too long. Instead you turned your focus onto the laptop in front of you, adjusting it to line up with the stenotype. Unable to help yourself, though, you looked over at the beautiful man once more, surprised to see another person sitting next to him. You watched as this gorgeous man pulled out a folder and began to talk with the woman beside him. Was he the attorney? Before you could even try to process the bailiff spoke up. "All rise," You stood up, adjusting the pencil skirt you were wearing, not wanting it to be a mini skirt as you stood.

The gavel quickly smacked down with a sharp movement. "You may be seated," Judge Choi spoke. "Good afternoon," He took a moment, reviewing the case in front of him. "This is the case of Mrs. Kang vs Mrs. Kim; as stated in front of me, Mrs. Kim is being accused of committing robbery in the third degree as claimed by Mrs. Kang." He cleared his throat. "Yes, your honor," You quickly began typing as the other attorney stood up. "For the record, my name is Kim Yugyeom. I am defending the plaintiff in this case," He looked around for a moment before continuing.

"Now, Mrs. Kang is saying that Mrs. Kim has stolen multiple pieces of her jewelry. All ranging from one hundred dollars to one thousand." He spoke, putting his folder on the desk before walking around. "Now, I'm sure the jury does not understand why they are present for such a case. However, this isn't Mrs. Kim's first accusation of stealing from the homes of those she works for," He fixed his jacket, buttoning it. "Mrs. Kang is in distress about this situation because it wasn't just replaceable pieces of jewelry, but it was family heirlooms," He was slowly pacing as he laid out the facts. You couldn't help but catch glimpses of that beautiful attorney waiting to speak from across the room.

Your eyes kept shifting over to him. Desperation seeping in, wanting to learn his name. You had to keep telling the part of your brain that was yearning to learn something about him that he would be no different outside of this room. Attorneys were always cold, arrogant, and narcissistic. It might have only been one experience from last year, but it was enough for you to swear off any lawyer or attorney. That's what was promised after the breakup; Park Jinyoung felt like a prime example of how lawyers act. No matter how hard it was you wanted to forget him, and it took a while but he was gone for the most part. Then he pushed back into your memories, and any thought about him was making your mind short-wire as you were merely admiring a stranger. Even if it was attempted you couldn’t stop the begging in your inner thoughts as you wanted to hear illicit words from his lips.

His sharp gaze was locked on Yugyeom; almost as if he was a predator watching his prey in front of him. His eyes never moved as he watched Yugyeom seeing where he was trying to lead. You snapped out of it as you heard the scrape of his chair as he sat back down. The impatient nerves were waiting to get their closure. He cleared his throat in a quick, sharp moment as you were almost on the edge of your seat. "For the record, my name is Lim Jaebeom, representing the defendant." He stayed seated as he spoke. Confidence in his aura. "Now my client is sitting here, being sued over a crime that never happened. Mrs. Kim has worked for Mrs. Kang for over five years. There has never been a complaint or an accusation such as this at all. Now, if I remember reading correctly. You keep your jewelry locked up, correct, Mrs. Kang?" He raised an eyebrow as he looked at her.

You watched as Yugyeom told her to stay quiet. "But as it is stated in words in front of all of us. Mrs. Kang says she locks her jewelry, and it is only unlocked when she is taking something out or putting something right back. Other than that, Mrs. Kang claims it is never unlocked, no matter the circumstances." Your eyes couldn't leave Jaebeom, the sharp gaze as he spoke his case. "If I could, Mrs. Kang. I would like to have you on the stand." He looked at her. Her eyes kept shifting to Yugyeom like a desperate cry for help.

You watched as she got up. She was younger, maybe mid-thirties at most; you could tell she was married to an older gentleman in the back. "Now, Mrs. Kang, that key to your jewelry box is on you at all times, correct?" Jaebeom questioned, making sure his plaintiff couldn't claim badgering. "Yes," Her voice was timid. The jury watched, seeing the way she seemed nervous and unsure of what to say. Jaebeom looked through a file which made everyone’s attention shift from Mrs. Kang to him.

Eyes from around the room were glued to Jaebeom, seeing where he was going as they listened to his strong voice that was as clear as day. "Now you seem to be a very routined person," He paced in front of her. "Why would you leave such an important item unlocked?" He paused his hands in the front pockets of his trousers. "I never do," She spoke quickly. "So how would Mrs. Kim be able to steal such important jewelry from you if it wasn't unlocked?" He shrugged, trying to play himself off.

You looked up and could see the panic in Mrs. Kang's eyes. "Maybe I forgot to put something away," She nodded, gulping. You heard a few members of the jury mumbling to themselves. "Right," He nodded, then looked up at the judge. "No more questions," He moved and sat back down in his chair. Mrs. Kang quickly moved away, almost embarrassed by her answers. You heard the chair drag on the floor briefly as Yugyeom stood up. "I would like to have Mrs. Kim take the stand," He looked at the judge as he nodded, giving him the go-ahead. You saw Jaebeom give her quick words of encouragement as she walked up and took her seat.

"Mrs. Kim, how long have you been working for the Kang family?" Yugyeom stared at her. You couldn't help but feel bad. She seemed as if she was older, maybe in her late sixties; she seemed so frail and upset about her accusations, almost like she was lost on what to do. "Five years," Her voice wasn't quiet but still soft. "And in those five years, have you had any issues with Mrs. Kang or her family?" He stood in front of her as she quickly shook her head. "No, never. I've always come in and taken care of their house and their children," She sounded hurt as she spoke. "Now, did you know where Mrs. Kang keeps her jewelry?" He was almost glaring at her, burning her with his eyes.

"I know she kept it somewhere in her closet, but she's always told me not to go in there, and I never did." She looked at Jaebeom as if needing a helping hand. "No further questions," Jaebeom spoke, his voice loud, making everyone look his way. His features were sharpening, and he was clearly frustrated by the redundant questions that Yugyeom was asking. Judge Choi nodded in favor of Jaebeom. She carefully got down before taking her seat next to Jaebeom. "Is this all of the evidence?" Judge Choi spoke up. Yugyeom nodded, his eyes shifting over to Jaebeom. "One more thing," Jaebeom looked at Judge Choi. Hoping he’d approve of him.

"I'll allow it," He nodded. "Mrs. Kang, can I have you take the stand one last time," He watched as she stood up and walked over, slowly taking her seat and adjusting her dress at the same time. "Now, Mrs. Kang, you use social media, right?" He looked at her. "Yes," She nodded. "Would you say Instagram is your most used?" He held his papers by his side. "Objection, relevance," Yugyeom called out. "Overruled," Judge Choi quickly retaliated. "Yes. I use it for my businesses." She nodded again, lost as to where he was going. "See, my client happened to come across one of those many live streams you do the other night." He placed the screenshot of her livestream in front of her. "What do you see here?"

His head cocked, almost like he was toying with her. "Just my product and a few other things," She stared at him, puzzled. "Mm," He hummed in agreement before inhaling. "See, that's what I thought at first, but then when you were showing how durable those containers are, I think you forgot that the jewelry that you have claimed Mrs. Kim has stolen was right there in the background." His finger tapped on the area he was talking about. "Oh, here's a zoomed-in one for you," He put another paper on top. Her cheeks began to burn a deep red color. Jaebeom walked away from her.

"See, that livestream was two nights ago, four weeks after you had accused Mrs. Kim of stealing that property from you. Which clearly is not the case that you are presenting before us." He gave Yugyeom a look as if saying checkmate before turning to look at the jury. Judge Choi quickly hit the gavel. "Case dismissed." He almost scoffed. Jaebeom quickly walked back over to shake his hand with Mrs. Kim. You were so entranced, still staring at him. "Y/N," Your name crept through your dazed state. "Yes?" You looked up to see Judge Choi looking at you. "Are you okay?" His eyebrow furrowed as you quickly nodded.

"Yes, your honor," You smiled before beginning to pack up your belongings. A faint blush on your cheeks for being called out as you stared. You grabbed your bag and walked out quickly. "Excuse me!" You heard the voice coming closer. The deep, rich voice of Jaebeom. "Oh. Hello," You smiled softly. "I noticed you were kinda staring at me," A slight smirk on his face. You pressed your lips together, trying to think of a justification to say quickly. "I mean, I kind of have to," You laughed awkwardly. "I mean, you didn't look too much at the other attorney." His head nodded in the direction of Yugyeom.

"Oh, it's just a subconscious thing." You nodded. "I was just teasing," He smiled softly. "You left this behind." He handed over your recorder. "Thank you," You sighed in relief as you didn't realize it got left behind. "Also, here's my number. Call me," He handed you a card as he flashed a smile before walking away. You looked at it quickly, then stuffed it in your bag. You took a deep breath and walked over to the clerk's desk. "Hello," You kept your bright smile. "Any other cases I have today?" You handed your badge over to the desk. You watched Yunhee as she took your ID slowly and swiped it. "Nope." Her voice was still flat. "Thank you," You walked away quickly, not wanting more of her cold shoulder.

"How was it?" Jackson called out as he saw you. "Not too bad. I know I'm required to be impartial, but I'm so glad the case turned out the way I was hoping," You nodded. "That's always good. Are there any more big things for you today?" He leaned against the wall as you shook your head. "Nope, I guess nothing else for me today, but oh well! I'll probably just go home and get cozy." You fixed the loose pieces of hair that had fallen from your ponytail. "Hey, still is better than being stuck in a courthouse all day." He chuckled as you nodded quickly. "Hey! There's my man!" He called out, removing himself from the wall. You couldn't help but turn to see who he was talking about.

"Hey! Y/N!" Jackson grinned. "This is Jaebeom! He's a new pro bono lawyer for our district," He smiled as you nodded slightly. "Nice to meet you; congratulations on winning your case, by the way," You stuck your hand out for him to shake. "Thank you," He nodded, carefully shaking your hand back, making sure not to squeeze too much. "Well, I'm gonna head home," You smiled at Jackson. "Have a good night, Ms. Y/N!" He called out as you walked out. "Miss?" Jaebeom questioned, watching as you walked out of the building. Jackson nodded. "Yeah, she's super sweet but reserved. I think she's a Miss; she hasn't corrected me or said much," He seemed lost in thought before Jaebeom nodded. "I'll see you around, Jackson,"

You stared at the card that Jaebeom handed you, engraving the phone number in your brain. One text wouldn't hurt. You picked up your phone and typed in the number.

Y/N: Congrats again on winning your case! I'm glad Mrs. Kim was proven innocent.

You put your phone down on the couch cushions next to you, before reaching behind you and taking the throw blanket that was folded neatly on the back of your couch. Grabbing it, you threw it on you,covering your body with as much as you could. The warmth of the blanket made you sigh in relief. You shut your eyes for a moment, opening them once you heard the vibration on your cushion. You pulled your arm out of the fleece and looked at your phone.

Attn. Jaebeom: Hey, Y/N. I'm assuming

Y/N: Sorry! I should've said that, but yes.

Attn. Jaebeom: I was wondering if you'd want to go out and get drinks? On me.

You bit the inside of your cheek. Weighing the pros and cons, on one hand, he's incredibly hot, and he's offering to buy you drinks, but on the other, he's also the type of person you promised yourself never to go out with. "What the hell," You mumbled to yourself, moving the blanket off of you.

Y/N: Yeah, just tell me when :)

Attn. Jaebeom: I was going to go out in maybe an hour; I'll send you the location.

You walked to your room, and you saw the dropped pin he sent you. You checked to see how far it was to decide how long you had to get yourself ready. You sighed happily, seeing it was a 10-minute train ride over. You would drive but didn't want to limit yourself if you felt like you wanted a drink or more. You got yourself ready, grabbed one of your shoulder bags, and walked out.

Y/N: I'm leaving now, I'll meet you there :)

You heard your stop and got off, a sudden bit of nerves crawling through your bloodstream as you walked up to the door of the pub, checking your phone to see if he was there.

Attn. Jaebeom: I'm sitting at the bar! You should be able to see me.

You read his message as you walked in, looking at the bar area, and spotting him sitting there. God, he was hot and unlike any other that you laid your eyes on. His sharp features drew you in from across the courtroom, and they were doing the same right now. You cleared your throat as you sat down next to him. "Hey," You smiled softly as he smiled back. "I'm glad you made it. What can I get you?" He watched as you contemplated. "A cosmo," You nodded as he put his hand out, gesturing for the waiter to take your order.

"Tonight is on me too, don't forget," He smiled softly. "Oh, don't worry, I didn't forget that," You laughed at him. "I gotta ask, what made you become a stenographer?" He looked at you, turning his stool so he could face you. "I didn't want to commit to law school, but I liked the law." You smiled, taking your first sip of the drink placed in front of you. "What about you? What made you become a pro bono lawyer?" You felt the liquor warming up your insides and loosening the nerves that you felt before. "Eh, I figured it would be nice to help those that can't afford a lawyer," He shrugged. Your heart swelled hearing that. Maybe he was different. The little voice in your head was competing with the devil on your shoulder.

"Missing out on a lot of money," You teased, seeing what his response would be. "Yeah, but it's fine; I get paid by the town and government. I’d just rather give the unprivileged a chance," He took a sip from the dark brown bottle. "I gotta be honest," You took a bigger sip from your glass. "You're way different than I thought you would be," Your cheeks were flushed from the alcohol creeping its way through your system. "In what way?" He couldn't help but question, his sharp eyebrow lifting. "Well, in my experience, lawyers, attorneys, and everything like that are usually arrogant jerks who like to think they're better than everyone." Your voice was harsh as you spoke.

"Well, I'm glad I could be different," He teased as your cheeks started to match your drink. "I was trying hard not to look at you in the courtroom," He confessed. "It seems like we were both stealing glances at different times," He snickered. "Yeah?" Your eyes widened in surprise as he nodded. "I don't know what it was, but you were captivating." His words kept going as you took a slow and long sip of your drink. Usually, you had no problem flirting back, but you couldn't figure out what words you were trying to gather in your brain. "You looked really good in a suit; blue seems to be your color," You referenced the sky-blue dress shirt he had on earlier. "Yeah?" He looked down at himself, seeing he was yet again wearing a blue shirt.

"I do own more colors," He looked at you, trying to defend himself. "I don't know if I believe you," You teased and ordered yourself another drink. "I promise," He put his hands up in a defensive way. You picked up your drink, placing it in front of you. "So you know Jackson?" You questioned, thinking of something else to say. "Yeah, I met him at another courthouse. He's a nice guy." He took a sip of his drink. "He was telling me about you as you were leaving. I started to get nervous that you might have had someone at home," He chuckled as you shook your head. "Well, you're in luck." You put the back of your hand under your chin and smiled brightly. He tried to stifle his laughter.

You whined quietly as he smiled innocently, "I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing with you," You shook your head at his comment as you smiled. "Alright," You took another sip of your drink. "Don't take this the wrong way," He looked at you, your eyes meeting his so that he would continue. "You look really good in a skirt," He spoke carefully, hoping that you were going to take it as a compliment. "Thank you, they take up my closet," You laughed, adjusting the bottom of the dress you were wearing. He was trying not to watch but couldn't help himself. It was hugging your thighs in just the right way. "Hey, I don't mean to be so brash," He cleared his throat. "Want to finish these drinks up and head to my place? It's alright if you just want to go home," He could barely finish his sentence before you agreed.

"I'd love to." You took a sip of your drink, your eyes meeting his. He called the bartender over and paid your tab. You took your final sip and got off the stool carefully, adjusting the bottom of your dress as you walked out the door with him. "I don't live too far," He smiled over at you. "It's no problem. I'd walk with you even if it were a bit far," You nodded at him as the night breeze made you shiver slightly. He noticed out of the corner of his eye, taking off his jacket and placing it around your shoulders. You couldn't help but turn red. "Thank you," You looked over at him as he nodded. "You don't have to thank me,"

"But I do," You huffed as he laughed. It wasn't that funny, but both of you were a little tipsy. You shook your head at him as he opened his door. You took your shoes off and found the couch, quickly taking the opportunity to sit on the cushion material. You watched as Jaebeom's slim figure walked towards you, holding something out. You reached and took the cold bottle. "I figure getting some water into your system wouldn't be a bad idea," He sat next to you, a gentle smile gracing his lips as he opened his bottle and took a sip.

You took a sip of your own before your eyes shifted back to him. "You're really good looking," You let it slip out of your lips. "I could say the same to you," He looked at you, his eyes lingering on your lips for a moment. You tried to act like you didn't see it,keepingt your eyes moving as you looked around his face, taking in his strong bone structure and his sharp brows that hardened his face. His baby pink lips were drawing you in closer, and every time they moved, you could hear his voice saying your name as you imagined how they felt and tasted. “Y/N?” His concerned voice broke you out of your daydream. "Yeah?" You looked at him, your eyes meeting his. You watched as his face came closer, and before you could fully process what was happening, you felt his lips against yours.

Those last two questions you had were answered. His lips were soft and plump and had a subtle taste of peach as if he had a chapstick he had applied not too long ago. You moved your lips with his, not wanting to move them from his. His lips started to pull at yours as his hand moved hair away from your face. His hand held you near the nape of your neck, keeping your hair away from his lips deepening the kiss. Your lips melted with his as your body from his touch. His lips began to leave a trail down your jaw, making you shudder.

You were trying to get your nerves to calm down, but it was hard to control. Your mind was already traveling further and further with his touch, imagining what his lips would feel like elsewhere or how he would feel inside of you. Your body was heating up enough for him to realize. "Do you want to keep going?" He removed his lips from tasting your skin as you nodded. "Yes," You barely muttered as he stood up, putting his hand out for you as you took it carefully. "I want you to be more comfortable," His voice was soft as you took his hand, following him to his bedroom.

He shut the door halfway before he stood in front of you letting you sit on his bed as he began ridding of his clothes. Your cheeks flushed at the look of his body. His toned abs and his strong thighs were still half covered by his boxers. He was breathtaking, to say the least. You felt his eyes on you as you stood up carefully, shimmying the small dress you had on off of your body. "Wow," He exhaled, looking at you. Your cheeks turned a deep red color hearing him. "Come here," You moved your finger in a come hither motion. He moved closer, his fingers lying on your hips as he pulled you so your bodies could be on one another.

The feeling of his length pressed against you made your core radiate heat. His hand carefully placed itself under your chin and tilted your head up. Your eyes locked with his that had hardened from seeing you undress. He leaned to let his lips meet with yours again. Your lips immediately locked with his as desperation grew. His bottom lip lapped at yours as he deepened the sloppy kiss. His hands moved to your back as he quickly released the clasps of your bra, throwing it across the room. Your hunger for him grew more and more as his touch traveled around your body until his finger was hooked around the side of your panties.

He moved himself away from your lips, watching your expression as he pulled your panties down. "How about you lay on the bed, baby?" His voice broke through the silence, and tension grew with the sudden pet name. You nodded quickly and moved backward, not removing your eyes from him. You felt the mattress hit the back of your legs as you moved yourself, letting your body rest once you were on his bed. He stood next to the bed, slowly moving to hover over you until your back was flat on the comforter. His fingers slowly moved around your hips, teasing their way down your thighs until they crept back up, stopping before you could feel his touch on your bundle of nerves that was throbbing.

You pressed your lips together, holding back a whine as you waited for him. You could only see his shadow from the light coming through the sheer curtains that covered his windows. Before you could take your next breath, you felt his finger slip in between your folds. Pushing into your pussy. "F-fuck," You gasped. "You're so soaked," He smirked, moving his finger gently. The sound of his small movements wasn't loud but enough for you to hear. You felt another finger push in, joining the other as he pushed his fingers in up to his knuckle. You arched your back. "Oh god," You whined as he kept a steady pace with his digits. He made sure not to be too rough either, wanting that to be saved for later. Your whines were already making him go crazy as he thought about pummeling you with his cock.

He could only let his mind race as he continued, making a come hither motion, lightly scraping the inside of your walls that were tightening around his fingers. "I can't wait to feel your pussy spread around me; I already know it's gonna grip onto my cock for dear life," He rasped, keeping his voice low. "Fuck me," You breathed, his fingers slowing. "What was that?" He chuckled. You swallowed, hearing his laugh. "Fuck me." You almost demanded as he pulled his fingers out. "Yeah? You want me to fuck this pretty pussy?" He cocked his head, almost as if it was a taunt. "Please," Your breathing was shallow as you begged. You couldn't see his expression, but you could only guess it was that smug smirk. The one that you saw in the courtroom that made your mind do backflips thinking about him.

You felt his body pressed against yours, his lips gently touching your neck as he kissed up, getting closer to your ear. "Get on your knees," His whisper was low and rasped. You turned yourself over, moving towards the middle of his bed. You heard the soft noise of his boxers dropping to the ground. You felt your stomach tighten as you arched your back. Waiting to feel him inside of you. You didn't get too wrapped up in your thoughts before feeling a smack on your ass. The sting made you whimper. You shut your eyes, feeling his thick head rub against your slit. Your hips shifted, almost as if you were trying to shove him inside of you. "You want it that bad?" He taunted. "Please, Jaebeom," You pleaded. "Mm, it's so much fun seeing you squirm, waiting for me to start," He tsked, still feeling your soaking wet cunt. "I want it so bad," You begged.

"Yeah?" He let out a borderline dark chuckle. You couldn't even respond as you felt his head begin to bury itself inside. You moaned out as he grunted. Feeling your walls spread for him. "God, it's so tight," He groaned as he felt your cunt gripping him as he pushed in. Your eyes rolled back as you balled the ends of his comforter in your hands. "s-so big," You stuttered, the hint of pain making you whimper. It had been a while since you'd had sex, but even so, Jaebeom was unlike any other. His thick, large cock was stuffing you so much that you didn't think you could take all of him. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you into him. "You're taking me so well," His soft voice contradicted the sudden jackhammering of his hips. "You feel so fucking good," You whined.

He kept a frenzied tempo that left you on edge, not knowing what the next thrust of his cock would feel like. "F-fuck me," You whined, loving the feeling of him plowing you. You bit your lip, trying to gain control of your breathing again as he became more consistent with his brutal pace. "Jaebeom," You cried out; you weren't expecting yourself to be so close already. "Yeah, baby?" He questioned, pumping his cock in and out of you with no rest. The sounds of the mattress squeaking and skin slapping together filled the room. Your cunt was fluttering around his cock, making his length twitch. "Fuck," He grunted as he thrust in and out, going back to the frenzied pace he had earlier.

He was close, just like you were. "I'm gonna cum," You whimpered, your knuckles turning white from how hard you were gripping his sheets. Your muscles tensed as you started to see stars. "Fuck!" You sobbed out through your orgasm. The feeling of him filling you made your walls clench as he thrust in and out slowly, panting as he milked every last drop inside of you. You shuddered as your body dropped to hit the plush mattress. "That was so good," You panted softly. "You alright?" His voice softened from the dominant growls before. "mm," You hummed in agreement. "Stay the night," He spoke softly. "Okay," You quickly agreed. You didn't want to tell him, but you were already getting ready to fall asleep.

You groaned as your eyes opened to the blinding sun coming through the window. You rubbed your eyes as you sat up, processing where you were. "Oh fuck," You grumbled, holding your head from the migraine that was crawling through your head. The sudden pounding made you get up. Even if it was weird, you were going to dig through his medicine cabinet no matter what. You looked over at the nightstand as you stood up and stopped. You picked up the folded piece of paper as your brows furrowed.

Hey! Sorry I had to leave for work, but I didn't want to wake you up. Here's some ibuprofen for the hangover you may have. You can leave whenever, and I'll lock the door remotely; just text me.

You smiled to yourself, placed the note down, and took what you needed to with the water he left for you. The glass was still cool to the touch. You must've just missed him. You walked to the bathroom, fixing yourself enough that you could walk out of his place and not be too much of a spectacle. You looked at the shirt you were wearing, seeing it was his. You smiled to yourself, then walked to his room, looking for your clothes as you dressed yourself. You looked in the mirror, staring at the dress that was hugging your body. "Yikes," you mumbled; it was a cute dress, but you definitely not to walk around Seoul at nine-thirty in the morning type of dress. You picked up the shirt he must've helped you put on last night, tying the back and nodding to yourself in the mirror. You grabbed your belongings and texted Jaebeom.

Y/N: Hey! I'm leaving now. I left with that shirt, but I'll return it to you soon! Thank you for last night and all the stuff you left for me :)

You sent the message and smiled as you walked down his stairs and to the subway.

Attn. Jaebeom: Yeah, it's no problem! Thank you for joining me and giving a lawyer a chance ;)

Your brows furrowed more than earlier. How did he know you swore off lawyers and attorneys? You tried to replay last night in your head but couldn't think of when you could've said that. It wasn't in the bar, and right after he fucked your brains out, you went straight to bed. You didn't want to ask but couldn't help yourself. It would be clarification. That's what you were telling yourself.

Y/N:… What do you mean?

Attn. Jaebeom: Well, we were talking before we went to bed, and you said, "You swore off anyone like me, but I was too hot to pass over."

Attn. Jaebeom: So thank you for thinking I'm hot and giving me a chance at least

Your face went pale as you suddenly remembered that conversation. You honestly couldn't believe yourself for saying something like that to him. It was an internal saying you had… and a saying with friends. You clicked on your messages, scrolling through until you found Gyuri's contact.

Y/N: s.o.s… I might have fucked up

Her response was almost instant.

Gyuri: How so?

Y/N: So you know how I always say attorneys and lawyers are sworn off after Jinyoung?

Y/N: Well, I met this attorney; he is very, very hot, so I couldn't resist. Apparently, last night, after sleeping with him, I told him how I swore off attorneys.

Gyuri: girl-

Gyuri: I mean, how good was he? And also... how hot is he?

You quickly sent a link to his website that you found.

Gyuri: OH

Gyuri: Yeah, I wouldn't resist either, but I honestly think if you just apologize or quickly explain Jinyoung, he would understand.

Y/N: Thank you :,)

Y/N: I have been embarrassed this entire subway ride. I mean, obviously, nobody knows, but it still.

You quietly exhaled after getting Gyuri's comfort. You got off at your stop and walked to your apartment, going over the words you wanted to say as you unlocked your door.

Y/N: I'm so embarrassed that I said that. It's nothing personal or anything to do with working in the courthouse together. I just had a bad experience with an attorney not too long ago, so I just swore them off entirely, which sounds a little stupid, but it doesn't matter anymore.

Attn. Jaebeom: Not stupid at all. I thought it was a little funny to hear.

Jaebeom still texted you, keeping your embarrassment so low that you didn't even acknowledge it anymore. Playing it cool was hard on your part. Something about him just kept drawing you in. Maybe it was that soft voice he had when he called you? Or his confident aura you saw in the courtrooms? You couldn't place it, but it didn't matter; you just knew you wanted him any way that you could have him. You watched him walk into the courtroom as you realized it was your first case with him since you’ve slept together.

You smiled to yourself as he looked over, keeping your hand close to your body as you waved at him. He didn’t really acknowledge you, nothing more than a half smile in your direction. The blow to your ego was rough. You bit the inside of your cheek and started to get set up. You heard the other lawyer come in. A sudden rage boiling through your blood. Even though you hoped and prayed that you would never have to be involved with Jinyoung’s cases again there he was. Sitting down in that chair looking all smug. Even his face pissed you off, he didn’t even have to mutter a word for you to feel the anger that was still inside of you.

You took a deep breath, clearing your mind of the ego blow from Jaebeom and the presence of your ex. You looked at the case file and it seemed quick and easy. Just one day, a few hours even, with them. You swallowed as Judge Tuan walked in. The case was presented fast and was straight forward. Your mind racing made everything go by much faster than you could comprehend. You shut your laptop quickly, standing up and walking over to Judge Tuan. “I just have to finish up a few more corrections but I’ll give you the transcript of this case tomorrow morning,” You smiled up at him. He nodded in response. “Take your time, I’m not overly worried about your work,” He smiled down at you as you put your bag over your shoulder.

You turned and watched as Jinyoung and Jaebeom walked out together. ‘Weird’, was the only thought that could gather in your mind. You walked into the hallway. “Jaebeom,” You softly called out. He was still speaking with Jinyoung, not even a turn in your direction. Unlike Jinyoung who turned to look at you with a smug smirk. You swallowed harshly as you caught up with them. “Can we talk?” You looked at Jaebeom. “I’m busy,” He cut himself short with you. “What the fuck is going on?” You blurted out. “You got played,” Jinyoung leaned in front of Jaebeom so you could see him. You felt the color leaving your face. “What?” You rubbed your temples in confusion. “I agreed with Jinyoung that I would take you out, see how you actually felt about him,” Jaebeom looked at you, his face tight and not softening like it did when you went out with him.

“What the actual fuck? Why would you do that? How could that even be a thought in a normal person's brain?!” You rambled every question you could think of. Anger couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt. Jaebeom shook his head at you, starting to walk off to somewhere else as if it was important. Jinyoung was still stifling laughter as you glared at him. “Fuck you Jinyoung, that’s how I feel. You’re a piece of shit that doesn’t know how to be human. Everything with you was right or wrong there were no opinions allowed in any of our conversations, unless they were your opinions. I genuinely hate you, how you always talked down to me as if I didn’t matter or that I wasn’t as great as you because I didn’t go to law school. That’s how I feel about you, no need for you to bring someone else into our mess. You could’ve manned up and come to me about it.” You spat and walked away quickly, not giving them the satisfaction of looking at them one last time.

Jackson was standing against the wall watching everything unfold. “Woah, Y/N. Are you okay?” He tried to stop you from running down the stairs. “Leave me alone,” You pushed by him. Once the doors shut behind you, tears started falling and you knew they wouldn’t stop even if you tried. “I should’ve stuck to my word,” You mumbled, wiping your tears with the back of your hand.

[erensonly]

thinking about sweet data analyst!reader being quiet as a mouse always scaring the boys. scares them so much they think abt getting her a bell. lets get into some backstory bc this may be a mini series 😈

contains: extreme fluff, ooc writing, love is used as a pet name, no pronouns used, references to DV pls read at your own discretion.

you were the new data analyst for the 141. before, you only worked with Kate, gathering and analyzing data for her but she thought you would be so much more helpful to the task force since their old analyst had retired. you were hesitant at first, not really wanting to be around a group of men. why should you leave your comfort zone?

this did not work with laswell. she had taken you in after you stumbled to the gates of the base, attempting to stop crying to give them an explanation and sporting bruises on your face and hands. luckily she had been there to meet with john when she had heard the guards complaining about a crying woman refusing to leave. she had helped you in more than one way. even allowing you to stay with her until you could find a job and move by yourself.

when she had found out you knew your way around computers, her face lit up like a christmas tree, telling you she had the perfect job for you. you were hesitant to take the job, knowing the work she did involved the military, you didn't know if you wanted to take the job. you had tried to convince her that it was fine, but once laswell has her mind made up, that's it.

thats how you ended up here, wanting oreos. you didn't mean to scare them at first. they were a little scary and you wanted nothing to do with them at first.

you just wanted the oreos but ghost was in the way, facing the opposite way with his head in his phone. you stood there awkwardly at first,not wanting to ask the big man to move but you really wanted those cookies. you stand there for a bit debating if you'll wait for him to leave the room or grow some balls and just ask him to move. you decided on doing neither.

you made your way towards him as quickly as you could; the plan was to just reach up and grab the chocolate cookies so you could go back to your desk before ghost could say anything. trying to get closer to the cabinet, you find yourself pushed up against the counter, a large hand wrapped around your wrist. when he realized it was you, he let you go with a big sigh. "scared the shit out of me. when did you get in here?"

"uh.. not too long ago." that was all you could muster, the man was too intimidating. you awkwardly shuffled towards the cabinet with the cookies and reached up to get them. mission accomplished, you thought to yourself. slithering back to your desk, you leave ghost stunned and only able to mutter a quick "bloody hell" before going back to his phone.

----

the next time you interact with the 141 outside of working it's with gaz. from the small conversations you had, he seemed very nice with a kind smile and calming aura. this time you were trying to make your way to price's office to give him a manila folder with the information he requested. you had walked to the door but heard talking, maybe he was busy. you decided that you would wait to give him the folder so you wouldn't have to speak to whoever was in the office.

it felt like time was going so slow and by the time the person had walked out, you were leaning against the corner of the wall, head against the wall in a way that you had have to almost round the corner to be able to see you. you looked up, and the man look like he just had a heart attack. clutching his chest like he was clutching his pearls and purse and breathing heavily. "Jesus, love,gotta say something. have you been waiting out here long? you could've just came in, y'know?" all the questions were becoming overwhelming when you just gripped his lips to silence him.

it took his look of surprise and a bit of thought to realize what you did. you had just grabbed the lips of a soldier. not just any soldier but a heavily decorated soldier who was apart of The john price's task force. he could kill you faster than you can say you're sorry. "oh my god, i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to, you just kept talking and i didnt know what to do. please don't kill me." you had finished your mini rant only to see him doubled over in laughter. he was in tears.

"did you just silence me?" he asked between laughs. you didn't understand what the hell was funny, this man is going to kill you. while he was still laughing and trying to get soap on the phone, you tiptoed into price's office to give him the folder, telling him that if he found you dead on base it was gaz before scurrying out of his office. john was left looking confused because he had just heard kyle laughing a few seconds ago.

----

next was soap. sweet, sweet soap. he genuinely did his best to welcome you into their group, but you didn't really seem interested. he eventually just took any interaction you two had and replayed it in his head over and over again. you were just so sweet, how could he not? you still got lost on base sometimes since everything was one monotone grey and everything looked the same. and it was just your luck that the only people around were new recruits and other people you never spoke to. turning, you see soap heading toward the mess hall.

when you sped up to catch him, he's surprised. he even did that cartoon cat jump they do before running off. he started saying something in a language you don't understand when you cut him off. "not sure what you're saying but i agree. anyway, where's the gym? i need to ask ghost a question." he was shocked to see you turn around and wait for him to lead the way. he couldn't help the smile that came across his face. such a hasty girl; you always said everything you needed to say as fast as you could before turning away, giving him a look at allat movement back there.

he laughed again before helping you find ghost. and you still don't get why these men find you so funny. there is nothing funny about them being so scary.

----

lastly, we got my husband john. he was made aware of your situation and why you acted the way you did before you started working under him. he couldn't help but think you were a sweet, hard working little thing. never with much to say, and so skittish. he may have told you that he doesn't know how to access the files on his computer just so he can see you come to his office with a folder. is it a crime to want to see such a sweet face?

john had told you he would like to see you after debriefing and that he would just let you know. but you had already finished your work of the day an you spent your free time playing whatever games you could access on your computer. you eventually started to feel restless so you decided to sit in price's office until he got there. there was a couch in a corner of the room, worn but comfortable. you could imagine the boys laying on the couch talking mindlessly to john.

you had sunken into the corner of the couch, curling up in a way that you would have to step completely into the office to see you sitting there. it had been a good 10 minutes of sitting in silence before you heard footsteps approaching the door. you couldn't hear exactly what was being said, but it sounded like john was on the phone. he, not long after, walked into the room, holding his phone between his shoulder and ear with a stack of folders in his hands.

"-exactly. yeah i'll be on it right away. bye." and as he's turning around, you're sitting up straighter and he yells. and i mean one of those old people, "help i've fallen" type of yelps; and he drops his files on the floor. you just give him a blank stare.

"good God. when did you get in here?" you just shrug, brushing over the question. "what was it that you needed from me sir?" that's when he knew, you were going to be the death of the 141. literally.

[misctf]

Merry Christmas! I've always wanted to visit the Philippines during the Christmas season, as it's said to be full of great food and full of hospitality. As I was getting off the plane in Manila, however, a muscular Filipino man dropped his passport by mistake. I hope I can find him so I can return it...

It was always one of your dreams to visit the Philippines during the Christmas season. As you leave the plane, you remain focused on reading your Filipino Phrasebook for Travelers. You hope that some of these phrases may come in handy, but your thoughts are interrupted when the man walking in front of you seems to drop his passport. You quickly pick it up.

“Hey, wait...”

You raise an eyebrow- the man is gone. You look around, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. You figure it shouldn’t be too hard to find him. He was probably one of the most muscular men you had seen walking in the airport. His sleeveless t-shirt did little to hide his arms and you could tell by his wide back that he spent time at the gym. But as you look around, you realize he’s nowhere to be found. Figuring there was nothing you could do, you decide to give this to security.

Security at Ninoy Aquino International Airport proved efficient, directing you through various corridors until you reached their lost and found counter. A pleasant, middle-aged woman looked up from her computer as you approached.

“Good day, sir. Can you tell us your name and please provide me with the item you'd like to report lost,” she said with a warm smile.

 “I hope he comes looking for it soon.” You comment, earning a sympathetic nod from the officer, “Maraming salamat. Ako ay Nathan Aguilar.”

Your mind reels as the words spill out of your mouth - Nathan Aguilar wasn't your name, nor could you possibly speak Filipino so fluidly. But the security officer merely smiled wider, seemingly pleased that you were communicating in her native tongue.

“Nathan,” she says, “No one has tried to contact our lost and found yet about a missing passport.”

You nod uncomfortably, still trying to process what just happened. Just then, your chest began to feel tight and heavy, a foreign sensation. You glanced down to see the fabric of your shirt straining against your broadening shoulders. Muscles you never knew existed rippled beneath your skin as they expanded and hardened.

“Give us one moment, I’m going to go check on something.” The security officer says, taking another glance at you.

Minutes ticked by as you stood there, waiting for the security officer's return. You tap impatiently on the desk, a wave of nausea and vertigo splashing over you. Your slender frame continues to thicken with sinewy muscle. You shift as your back widens and your shirt strains against your growing musculature. You feel sweat dampening your tighter shirt and you run a hand through your hair, which is rapidly darkening and becoming black. Your hair restyles itself as you run your hands through it- buzzed on the sides, longer on the top. Your pale skin darkens to a warm, sun-kissed brown, freckles vanishing without a trace. Your eyes becoming darker and narrowing slightly as a chiseled jawline forms beneath your skin. The security officer returns, accompanied by another guard who eyes you closely. The two look at each other and then back at you.

“Nathan, mukhang sa iyo ang passport na ito.” She says.

As she spoke, your face shifted, the bridge of your nose growing slightly broader, your cheekbones more defined. Your lips thickened, curling into a subtle smirk that felt both new and familiar. You caught a glimpse of yourself in a reflective surface and barely recognized the chiseled, handsome features staring back. You shook your head vigorously, trying to clear the fog in your mind. 

“W-what? No, I'm not Filipino! This can't be my passport!” You speak fluently in Filipino, causing your eyes to widen in confusion.

Despite your protests, a flood of unfamiliar images began to surface in your thoughts - childhood scenes of playing in the streets of Manila, family gatherings filled with laughter and warmth, the feeling of sweat dripping down your back as you lifted weights in a cramped gym. The security officer's brow furrowed deeper as she studied your face, her eyes lingering on the distinct lines and contours that seemed to fit perfectly with the photo in the passport.

Embarrassment washes over you as you realize the mistake you'd made. With a sheepish expression, you turn to the officer and apologize profusely in Filipino, assuring her that yes, indeed, the passport belonged to you. She looked somewhat relieved, but still seemed wary of your sudden change in demeanor. Shrugging off the incident, you walk away from the counter, your strides confident and purposeful. As you stroll through the bustling airport, you couldn't help but admire your reflection in shop windows and mirrored pillars. Your chiseled features, powerful build, and striking dark eyes seemed to captivate everyone you passed. Finally, you stopped in front of a large glass window, gazing intently at your own image. Your fingers ran over the defined muscles of your arms, tracing the curves of your pecs and abs.

“It’s good to be home.” You mumble, a grin forming on your lips.

Without a second thought, you leave the airport. After the confusion from earlier, you know you need a good gym session to get your head back in the game.

[bingbongsupremacy]

Marry Me?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Warning: I haven't seen criminal minds in a bit so idk if the Spencer in this is 100 percent accurate

Summary: Spencer asks you to marry him at the most random time. Garcia does not approve.

*Not Proof Read* ABC List Criminal Minds

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

" That's horrifying. " I wrinkle my nose at the sight of the bloody decapitated woman in the photos lying scattered around the table. This is why I work with Garcia.

Sticky notes are messily pasted onto the photos, illegible scribbles covering them.

" It is. " Spencer agrees.

" Why did you call me in here? " I ask, confused why my boyfriend called me in if he isn't going to expand further on the topic.

Spencer picks up a large Manila folder and shuffles through the contents. " I think I might have figured out the pattern we were looking for. " He pulls out a small stack of papers, each with the name of a high school in the corner. " The Unsub is killing girls from the same high school. Each girl attended the school at a different year. It's like he's going down the line of years. If I'm right, he'll been picking a girl from 2002 next. "

I scan over one of the papers he hands me. " Shit, you're right. " Excitement fills my body. We've been working on this for hours. He figured it out! " Spencer, this is fucking amazing! You figured it out! We need to tell the others. "

" Yes. I also think I might know who the next potential victim is based on other patterns I picked up along the way. " Spencer rambles on. " I think he might be going after Piper Johnson next, the woman we saw on the news interview. We need to check if she's okay. By the way, do you want to get married? "

His words come out so fast it takes me a second to process.

" W-What? " My eyes widen. Did I hear correctly?

Spencer is looking at me his gaze steady. He looks serious. " I know it's a little random, but this case really had me thinking. We don't know how much time we have together. God forbid one of us gets hurt or worse. I don't want to waste any more time with you. I love you and I want to be with you. I'd be the happiest man on earth if you said yes. "

For a moment I forget we're surrounded by gruesome shit. All I can think about is Spencer and our future. All of our plans.

A large smile makes its way onto my face. " Of course I will, Spence. I love you. " I smash my face into his, our lips meeting and immediately sending shivers through my body.

" I love you too, Y/N. So fucking much. " His voice rumbles against my lips.

" You did not just fucking ask Y/N to marry you in a room surrounded by dead women. Spencer, what the fuck. " A surprised voice interrupts us.

Surprised, Spencer and I pull apart to find the owner.

Garcia stares at us, her mouth hung open in surprise. " And you accepted his proposal? Are you insane? Don't get me wrong, you guys are perfect for each other. This proposal was just...so...gory. " She glances at the pictures around the room. " I'll help you plan out a real proposal, alright? Let's press pause on this until tonight. I'll have it all ready by the time you guys get back. " She says confidently, taking on the task we didn't ask her to do.

" It's really not that big of a deal- " I begin.

" It'll be done by tonight. " She says sternly, holding her hand up to stop any argument. " Now, you go let the others know what's going on with the unsub. " She points at me. " You are staying here with me while we set everything up. "

She gently pulls me towards the door, snatching the pack of information out of Spencer's hand.

" But-! "

She doesn't let me finish, swiftly kicking me out of the room.

Behind her, Spencer stand watching me in surprise.

Garcia shuts the door in my face, leaving me standing on the other side alone.

This day has been so confusing.

[totallyxtaurus]

I just want you to know who I am 🏮

Summary: What if Sylus had kept going to all those lantern festivals in hopes you'd be there and what would he do if you actually were. Pairing: Sylus x gn reader A/N: Um hi! I haven't written a "fanfic" since middle school so this has me super uncomfortable and feeling especially vulnerable since I am VERY out of practice. I've only been writing academic papers for the past four+ years and while I've taken a couple creative writing courses I just felt subpar compared to my peers and I stopped writing fiction completely. However, I maladaptive daydream constantly and Sylus + music is a really good source of creativity for me. I have a part two in mind but we'll see! So, my awkward ramblings aside, I hope you enjoy! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

Next

“Boss, we found them. Apparently, they’re residing in Linkon,” the twins reported as they placed the manila folder on his desk. Sylus, not sparing them a glance, grunts softly in recognition keeping focused on his task at hand. However, a fire fueled by hope kindles in his heart at the news, radiating warmth through his chest, as if gently urging him to surrender to its pull. He opened the folder and began to read the information in front of him. Still, nothing matched the description he had given. Heaving a sigh, the flame of hope dampened, Sylus notices a note on the document about the upcoming lantern festival. He pauses, wondering if, regardless of the accuracy of the information he has, you might be there.

The sky had already grown dark, and fireworks echoed in the distance. The smell of delicious food permeated the air and the bright lights of millions of lanterns strung up and decorated every inch of the ground burned into Sylus’s retinas. Yet, he continued to press on. He’s been walking around for hours, taking in every sight and smell, but also searching for anyone who might be you. Anyone with the same color hair or stature as you once had. His trained eye sought out anyone who laughed in a similar octave you had, scrutinizing each face, hoping he finally found you. But every time, it led to that same emptiness cradled deep in the core of his being—the part of you still trapped there, lying dormant.

That was… how many years ago now? Sylus had lost count of how long he’d returned to Linkon’s lantern festival. Each time a failure, each time dimming the flame of hope that once burned at the mention of Linkon City. Yet, it was that time of year again when the festival would commence, just as it always did. This would be the last time Sylus participated, finally deciding to give up the search for you—for good. The same sights, sounds, and smells that once sparked curiosity in Sylus, now suffocate him. What had once been a world of wonder distorts into a stifling prison, each sensation now nauseating, a reminder of the weight that has settled on him.

Up and down the same aisles, back and forth through familiar stalls, Sylus drifts through the festival on autopilot, visiting the vendors he’s known for years. Each one greets him with a warmth that feels strangely foreign, their smiles are tinged with an apprehension he can’t ignore. That same apprehension had followed him ever since he first started coming to the festival—whether it was the stolen glances of passersby or the blatant gawking of children. Sylus knows he sticks out like a sore thumb, but he ignores it, continuing his monotonous stroll.

He stops in his tracks, taking in the scene before him—a child wailing over what sounds like a lost hand puppet. Sylus glances down at the lion head puppet resting in his hand and kneels to offer it to the child. The crying halts instantly, and wary yet sparkling eyes look up at him. The parents, overwhelmed with gratitude, profusely thank him before ushering their child along. As he straightens up, a familiar floral fragrance hits him. His heart races. His head snaps left and right, his body swiveling desperately as he searches for the source. He knows that scent—it sparks the fire within him, a fire that ignites and pulses through his entire body. Without thinking, his legs begin moving, drawn by a golden trail of light that weaves through the reddish-black mist around him. It’s guiding him. It’s guiding him to you. You’re actually here.

Also, in case anyone is like me and is interested in knowing the inspiration behind pieces of writing. This is the song I was listening to while writing and titling this! 💗

[rangerbarbz]

Professor Pines

Author’s Note: hey y’all! This is the start of a professor Ford AU that I’m working on. Thank you so much for being patient, and I am so excited to hear what you think about this! Sorry if some of this is inaccurate. I have not gotten my masters yet 

“Prologue” 

You sat outside Dr. Pines’ office bouncing your leg to expend the anxious energy flooding your mind. You were rearranging your manila folder of papers for the third time already. You couldn’t decide what would be the best order for him to read them in. Not like it really mattered anyways. It was just a nervous fidget to keep your mind off of the fact this was the last shot for you to get a sponsor for your Master’s research. He was finishing up a meeting with another student; you could hear pieces of his deep voice through the oak door. You hadn’t gotten to meet Dr. Pines yet. Your conversations hadn’t breached your Email inbox, but you were eager to finally have a discussion face-to-face. 

The door creaked open and a young man walked into the hallway, slinging a backpack over his shoulder. “Have a good day! I’ll see you in class tomorrow,” Dr. Pines called out to him. You exhaled through your mouth and placed the folder in a binder that held laminated pictures you had taken. You stood up from the cushioned bench you were sitting on to enter his office. Any confidence you might have regained was lost when you ran face first into what could be your research mentor. Your face and arms collided with his broad chest and caused the papers kept snug in your folder to spill out onto the linoleum floor. 

“Oh good heavens, I am so sorry,” Dr. Pines apologized, bending down to pick up the scattered papers at your feet. This could not get any worse. 

“Oh, no it’s fine. I- I am sorry. I should’ve announced myself,” you replied, a furious blush spreading across your face. You had also joined him on the ground to pick up the remaining papers. 

He chuckled. “You’re quite alright. Don’t worry about it,” he reassured you as you both stood up. He had a small smile on his face as he handed you some lined notebook paper filled with your rushed scribble. His fingertips brushed against yours in the process. You could feel they were calloused; a sharp contrast to your soft ones. 

“Why don’t we get started,” he said, walking towards his desk. “I’m excited to hear what you have to say.” He sat down at his swivel chair and scooted forward. “I spoke with some of my colleagues from the biology department after receiving your email, and I think you have some very interesting ideas.”

You beamed at him as you began to shuffle through your belongings. “Yes, yes! I know you are a lover of cryptozoology like myself, and I wanted to speak with you about studying some creatures that I came face to face with while visiting the Appalachian Mountains earlier this year.” You handed him your binder which he immediately began to flip through. He was careful and nodded along as you continued to speak about your experiences in east Tennessee. It was nice that he seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say. 

You had not had that luck with other professors you had spoken with about your findings. They either didn’t care or believed it was a hoax. It was until you had checked out a book at the library about a town in Oregon written by none other than Dr. Stanford Pines that you realized he was the key to fulfilling your plans. You had never had a class with him when you were an undergraduate, so you didn’t know much about him besides the fact he was very intelligent and had six fingers. 

He’s not so bad looking either. He was wearing a light blue button-up with a brown tweed coat over it. He had thick, gray hair with a lighter silver streak and wire rimmed glasses balanced on a strong nose. He ran his hand over his stubble and raised his eyebrows towards your photos.

“This is…” Dr. Pines paused. His eyes met yours as he closed your binder. “Incredible.” Your eyes widened and you failed to suppress the ecstatic grin forming across your face. 

“T-thank you, sir,” you replied. 

He then stood up from behind his desk to sit in the chair beside you. “Y/N, this is truly remarkable. I mean,” he began to flip through your notes from the folder, “the amount of thought and organization that went into this is unlike what I've seen in other students.” He gazed at you, his expression softening. “I’m sorry my foolish colleagues didn’t see your potential, but I’m glad that I could be the one that did.”

You felt like you could cry. “You have no idea how much that means to me,” you responded shakily. “Does this mean you will be my faculty sponsor?” 

He gave you a toothy smile and got on his feet to extend a hand towards you. “I am going to do everything in my power to make sure you get the answers you deserve. This summer, I am proposing we travel out to the Appalachia and take a look ourselves.” You hopped up and took his hand into yours, giving him a firm but enthusiastic handshake. 

“Thank you so much, Dr. Pines. I am so grateful for this opportunity.” You started to pick up your things. “Really, I am just so excited, sir.” 

He chuckled, waving his hand dismissively at you. “No more formalities, Y/N. You can just call me Ford. We’ll be spending quite a lot of time together this summer, so I’d rather you just use my real name. It’ll be easier for both of us.” 

Your face became slightly warm and you gave him a small smile. “Okay. Sounds good, Ford,” you said, trying out the name for yourself. 

“Y-yes very well.” His voice had faltered. Was he blushing? “I won’t keep you. I’m sure you’re busy; I’ll be emailing you.” 

“I’ll be expecting you. Have a good day, Ford. It was nice to meet you, and thank you again for this,” you said sincerely,  placing your hand on the rickety door frame.  He grinned. “You too, Y/N. I look forward to working with you.” You gave him a little wave before walking out of his office. This was going to be the start of something wonderful.

Author's Note: There will be more but this is just setting up the story!!

[goodnessgraves]

This is my first time writing a fic, go easy on me!! (please ignore any errors in any of the parts in spanish, i promise i tried 😭)

Valeria Garza/F!Reader, Praise, Literally the slightest degredation, Power play if you squint, Age gap if you squint, Vaginal fingering (reader receiving) Let me know if I missed anything!

NSFW UNDER THE CUT! 18+ MDNI!!! 🩷

You’ve always had a crush on your boss, how could you not? She was everything you liked in a woman. She was taller than you, shockingly strong, beautiful, and absolutely fucking terrifying. But, she probably doesn’t like women. (You convince yourself of that, anyways.)

The office is dark and cold as you step inside, the interior is surprisingly comfortable and homely. The woman in the chair doesn’t say anything as you walk in, just letting out a soft grunt as a greeting, she’s working on something.

“Excuse me, Ms. Garza?” She raises her head, a slight annoyed but still attentive expression on her face.

“Sí?” She says, looking up at you, who’s standing there nervously with a manila folder in your hands.

“I have the files you asked fo-“ You start to speak but she cuts you off before you can finish.

“Sit, chiquita.” She says, clearly not asking but commanding. Her expression goes from annoyed to something you can’t quite pick up on as she watches you sit and place the folder on her desk.

She quickly snatches the folder up, opening it and examining it. She sits there silently, reading through all the files and diligently taking note of the color coding.

“Good work.” She places it down and looks at you. You know it shouldn’t affect you like that, but even the slightest of praise makes you weak in the knees.

“You know, cariño,” She lets out a soft sigh before continuing, “You’re doing so good.” She softly smiles at you before looking you up and down, almost sizing you up.

Her eyes are filled with a hunger you haven’t seen from her, you feel like a prey animal encountering a coyote, or a cougar.

“Thank you, ma’am, I really try my hardest.” You smile at her, ignoring the feeling of arousal seeping deep into your bones.

She stares at you with an increased hunger, feeding off the blush littering your cheeks, nose, and ears.

“You’re too pretty for a life of crime, you know? Podrías ser una modelo.” She says, matter of factly, watching the way you look away out of embarrassment.

“Look me in the eyes when I’m speaking to you, muñeca. I only have two rules, look at me when I’m speaking, and listen to me when I’m speaking. I would hate to have to punish you for disobedience.” Her expression slightly darkens, reaching over her desk to grip your chin, forcing you to look at her.

“There we go, esa es una buena chica.” She coos at you, mockingly. You squirm at her touch and her praise, feeling nothing but pure arousal at her actions. She pulls back softly and leans back in her chair, patting her lap, gesturing for you to go sit.

“Come on, don’t be shy, chiquita.” She encouraged, watching you get up from your seat to brush out the wrinkles in your skirt before walking over to her, your heels clicking softly against the floor.

You climb onto her lap, straddling her as her hands grip your waist, she’s smiling up at you.

“I normally don’t let people bother me in my office, but I’ll make an exception for you, hermosa.” She whispers in your ear, feeling you shiver as her breath tickles your neck, and she takes that opportunity to lean in and plant a soft bite on your earlobe, listening as a soft whine leaves your lips.

At this point, your brain is completely useless, this beautiful woman has you in her lap, grabbing your hips, all while teasing you. You feel like you’re in fucking Disneyland, this is the greatest place on earth.

“Ma’am?” You manage to mutter out, despite how flustered you are.

“Mmhm?” She lets out a soft hum, pulling away from your neck to look at you, ready to answer her question.

“Can I have more?” You ask quietly, your voice almost a whisper. You feel like you could die right there out of embarrassment. She interrupts your extremely cloudy train of thoughts by letting out a dark chuckle, eyeing you up.

“You know, when you wear skirts and dresses like that, I can’t keep my eyes off you, princesa. Do you know what you do to me?” She murmurs seductively, moving her hands down from your hips to your thighs, massaging them roughly for a moment before speaking up.

“Stand up, bend over my desk. Now.” She commands and you quickly oblige, knowing she wants you as bad as you want her makes your heart beat faster and your pussy flutter.

You’re bent over her desk, as she stands up and positions herself behind you, one hand on your back, holding you down, and another one teasing you through your panties.

“So wet already, all for me? Such a needy girl, huh? So needy and I’ve barely even touched you.” She smirks while taunting you, listening to you whine.

Eventually she hikes your skirt up and pulls your panties down, taking them and putting them in the drawer of her desk. She tells you it’s a keepsake, a trophy of sorts, but you’re only half listening.

She says something you don’t quite hear before pushing a finger inside your aching pussy, you yelp, not expecting that. She tuts at you.

“Niña tonta, what did I tell you about listening when I speak, huh?” She teases as she pushes another finger in, making you writhe under her as she laughs.

“Chica patética.” She coos at you, her voice dropping to make fun of you while thrusting her fingers in and out of your cunt.

You don’t know how long it’s been, or how many times you’ve came on her fingers. All you know is that this is something you could definitely get used to.

[call-of-dookie]

Dear John,

BROKEN THINGS

PART 1 - John Price x Reader

Series Synopsis - Soap is killed in the mission to end Makarov, and in his death the men find out of a 'Secret Wife' Johnny had. While guilt of Soap's death was already eating at Price, the word of a widow strikes him even harder, and so he decided to seek out his wife and pay his dues for his fault in Soap's Death, and admit his guilt in aiding the broken woman before him.

"a break" is what John was told he needed. His job was complete with Makarov, and it left a stain on his heart. It was clear to everyone, laswell, what's left of task force 141, he wasn't handling his fuck up lightly, trudging the halls of base with a contemplating look and a dark aura surrounding him. It was his fault Johnny died. He chose not to kill Makarov when he had the chance, and now? One of his men was dead, one of the best of men at that, and in the sorrows of guilt for being responsible for Soaps death, John found himself slipping away.

He had spread Johnny's ashes in Scotland, the "home of his heart" Johnny claimed, and left his sadness on that bluff. Unfortunately, he has come to find out that sadness and guilt, are two completely different emotions. The silence of the mess hall, the silence of his men, and the Case Filing Meeting cracked his brain into a million shards, each a different emotion but with edges sharp as a blade, and covered in guilt.

"Alright boys, we've done this before, it's no different than any other time. You're each getting case files and filing the events of 'Makarov's Hunt', including Soaps death."

Laswell has been visiting the task force to complete there case filing and here it was. Every detail of the events leading up to, and soaps death itself were to be filed on paper, like taxes no one wants to pay. Details were to be discussed, evaluated, and jotted down for future reference, and to commence the death of 'John Soap MacTavish'.

In the case of a S.A.S. soldier dying, one who has been assigned to a Task Force, his information is purposely scarce. They are not to talk about personal relations, wives, husbands, family and children alike, in an attempt to protect their humanity.

Revealing such truths is forbidden for their family's safety, and their own, but once a soldier dies, it is his captains or subordinates responsibility to open their 'File of Humanity', as they call it, a manila folder containing all the soldier loves.

A tan-yellow folder slides across the table, reaching Price first. At the corner is written in Johnny's scribbly handwriting, "MacTavish Humanity" with a small doodle of a bar of soap sitting next to the ending. The sight of it let's a chuckle huff out of price, which quickly turns to dispair at the realization of what documents he's about to see. If there are any, marriage licenses, birth certificates, a list of living relatives and so much more.

The rest of the team gets a folder, each having an image of Johnny clipped to the left hand corner.

"Well...we all know what is about to happen, and how to handle it, yes? You will open the folder, read his service sheet first and fill out the information on your case filing. Once that commences, we will...discuss his death...personally", Laswell finishes.

So as on cue, the men open their folders to read the one pager of Johnny's enlistment, skills, and service before copying to their sheets.

The scene is painstakingly familiar for Price, deja vu of when Soaps file first came across his desk. He's a brilliant kid , 25 at the time and a specialist in demolitions and sniper, a unit for such a young man. He sports his usual mohawk as he did in that file years ago, and that shit eating grin on his face. Everything is as usual until they reach the bottom of the page. Service Sheets change slightly when added to 'Humanity Folders', now 3 small boxes are added to the bottom of the enlistment column.

Check 'YES' if you have children. [NO]

Check 'YES' if you are married. [YES]

No one has ever seen a man's face turn white that fast, expression dropping and eyes flooding black at the simple word 'yes'.

Check 'YES' if your spouse is living. [YES]

The air grew cold as of every body has read the exact same thing at once. 'Johnny, married?' they were all thinking. Not once had he mentioned this, not once had they seen a ring, but it unfortunately all adds up.

As much as Johnny loved his job, he was always the last to be on base, and the first to leave. Everytime they travelled somewhere outside of the UK he'd buy a small trinket, something without purpose but enough for the boys to notice. Even in Urzikstan the boys had seen him chatting with a small family, a mother and daughter whose father had been forced a slave by Russia during their battle for independence. Shortly after the men saw a small doll, the size of maybe 2 fingers tucked in his pocket, "A gift from the girl, traded her a drawing" he said with a smile. It came to a point that the men we're concerned he was just... touring the 141's battle grounds, but the fact that they had never seen any trinket since he got it starts to add up. Gifts. For a wife, at that.

Everyone's eyes met each other's as Price's theory seemed to be right, they had all read that at the same time. John "Soap" MacTavish died a married man, and instead of delivering their condolences to his wife, they spread his ashes in Scotland.

"Fucking hell" is what breaks the silence, a groan of dispair from Ghost. His eyes met Price picking up on the one dimension of darkness and guilt in his eyes.

"We spread his fucking ashes", Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick adds to the conversation. This one left Price with a hand on his head, tugging at his hair as he breathed shakily, sounding like a death rattle.

Laswell tapped the table lightly, getting John's attention from the other end of the table before their eyes meet.

"We know what we need to do."

[pamwritessometimes]

Tuesday’s Gone — Chapter 2

Russell Shaw x reader

Summary: When the police does little to no help to find your missing daughter, you are forced to contact Colter Shaw. What you don’t expect is how his investigation will reveal secrets about both your past and your daughter’s, in ways you never imagined.

Warnings: missing child trope, description of murder, very light smut.

Title’s based on Tuesday’s Gone by Lynyrd Skynyrd.

Read Chapter 1 here

Tuesday’s Gone masterlist

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The October wind chilled through Colter’s jacket as he made his way inside Mitchell’s. Meeting up in a diner–he certainly felt a sense of deja vu. Though, this time, they opted for one with roof. It was fall, for god’s sake.

Once he stepped inside, he scanned the area for the familiar chestnut-haired face he was looking for. It didnt take long to find it–in fact, it found him, waving at him with a nod. 

Russell looked pretty much the same as he last saw him a couple of months ago. Maybe his hair got slightly longer.

Colter approached the table and slid into the booth across from him. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Didn’t leave me much of a choice” Russell chuckled as he munched on the burger in front of him. “You said it was important. What’s this about? Not that I’m complaining. Working together from time to time. Kind of like a family business” he mused.

Without addressing his last words, Colter reached into his jacket and pulled out a manila folder. He placed it on the table between them, pushing it toward Russell. “You need to see this.”

Russell eyed the file, a slight suspicion crossing his face as he put his burger down. He then flipped the folder open. As he started to skim through its contents, his brows furrowed. The file contained pictures, reports, details…everything about a missing girl.

“Who is she?”

“Her name’s Emma. She’s been missing since yesterday. Abducted from her house. No leads yet.” Colter said and then after a few moments of silence, he added. “I think the people responsible are connected to something you were involved in years ago.”

Russell froze mid-page turn. “What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t been involved in anything for a while. You know that.”

“I’m talking about The Horizon Group, Russell.”

At the mention of the name, Russell’s face hardened. “What does this have to do with them? I told you, I cut ties. I can’t give you intel or anything like that on them.”

“Look closer.” Colter said and nodded towards the file.

Russell frowned but flipped through the file again, but this time even more carefully. It was when he hit a particular page that he stopped cold. His eyes locked onto a name he hadn’t seen in years.

Y/N Y/L/N.

The file listed Emma’s mother as Y/N. Russell’s heartbeat quickened, his mind racing through memories that rushed back to him about the woman he’d left behind long ago. 

“What’s this about?” Russell asked, still trying to sound neutral. “Y/N. I, uh… Yeah, I knew her. A long time ago.” he admitted. “This— uh, this is her daughter?”

Colter nodded slowly, watching as the realization began to hit Russell. “Yeah. Emma’s her daughter.”

Russell’s hand shook slightly as he flipped through the file again, looking more closely at the girl’s picture this time. She was small. Had wide, innocent eyes and an undeniable resemblance to Y/N. Her eyes were shaped just like her mother’s, same with her lips… But her iris–pale green–and her nose… It wasn’t her. They seemed eerily familiar, though.

“She’s… four?” Russell asked, doing the math in his head, suspicion rising in his mind.

“Yeah” Colter confirmed. He could see the wheels turning in his brother’s head. 

Russell leaned back in his seat, his face paler than usual. “Colter, why the hell are you showing me this? Why does this have anything to do with me?” he asked, but he already knew the answer.

“Because I think you need to ask yourself if there’s a chance… that you’re Emma’s father.”

The words hit Russell like a punch to the gut, leaving him reeling. His mind scrambled to piece together the timeline. 

The last time he’d seen Y/N. It wasn’t a peaceful break-up, not in the slightest.

“Are you saying—” Russell’s voice cracked, but he forced himself to stay calm. “Are you saying that I might be her father?”

“I don’t know” Colter said, but in fact, according to your own words, it was more than a possibility. “But the timing fits. And if you are, this isn’t just about a missing kid anymore, Russell. They didn’t just take any girl…they took your daughter.”

Russell stared at Colter, the weight of his heavy words sinking in. He had spent years running from his past, trying to bury it. But now, it was staring back at him right in the face in the form of a little girl he hadn’t even known existed.

His hands gripped the table, knuckles going white. “I… didn’t know” he said quietly. “I didn’t know she existed.”

“I believe you” Colter said. “But if Horizon took Emma, there’s a chance they’re using her to get to you.”

Russell’s heart almost skipped a beat. “They’re using her…because of me?”

Colter nodded. “It’s possible. It’s leverage. You were involved with them once, Russell. You know how they operate. They think they can use Emma to force your hand. And if they’ve gone this far….”

“...they’re not going to stop until they get what they want” Russell finished his sentence. He leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. It was too much, all at once. The realization that he had a daughter, that she had been taken because of his past…he had never felt so powerless. “I–I have a daughter” he whispered.

After a few moments of silence, he spoke up again “I never wanted this” he added, his voice laced with emotion. “I left so Y/N could be safe.”

Colter reached across the table. “I know. But now we need to focus on finding Emma. This isn’t just about the past anymore. It’s about finding her.”

Russell lifted his head, his eyes as determined as ever. “What do I do?”

“We start by figuring out what Horizon wants” Colter said. “You need to think. Are there any old connections, anyone from that time who might have known you were still around? Anyone who could’ve tipped them off?”

Russell thought back, his mind racing through the faces and names of people he had cut ties with long ago. “I don’t know. I kept my distance. I thought I was careful.”

“Well, someone wasn’t” Colter said. “They found Y/N and Emma, and now they’re making their move. We need to be one step ahead of them.”

Russell nodded, the knot in his chest tightening. “We’ll find her. We have to.”

Colter stood, signaling to the waitress for the check. “We will. But it’s going to take everything we’ve got.”

As they left the diner together, Russell couldn’t shake the image of Emma’s face from his mind. He didn’t know her, didn’t even know if he had the right to call himself her father.

But one thing was clear: he was the reason she was in danger. 

And that meant he would do whatever it took to bring her home.

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“Fuck, Russ” you murmured against his shoulder while he relentlessly pounded into your deepest parts. His thick, veiny arms held you steady, his soft grunts and curses going from your ears straight to your core.

The bedroom was a mess, sheets tangled and clothes scattered around the floor. You were lost in the moment, completely. But then, the bliss was shattered.

A loud crash echoed through the house, making you both freeze. Your heart raced as the sound of shattering glass filled the air, and a surge of adrenaline shot through you.

“Russ!” you gasped almost in a whisper, pulling away to look at him. Panic flickered in his eyes, and in an instant, he was off the bed, putting on his pajamas in record time. You never saw him like this before, this…focused.

“Stay here” he commanded, his voice low and serious.Where did this tone come from? 

You nodded, but fear gripped you. You couldn’t just sit back and wait.

You slipped out of bed, instinctively grabbing one of his discarded shirts and pulling it on as quickly as your trembling hands allowed. You peered into the hallway, your heart pounding as you heard footsteps echoing through the house.

“Russ!” you called softly, straining to hear him over the rush of blood in your ears.

Then you heard it— a loud bang followed by a deafening silence. The next moment, you saw him move down the hallway, his expression set and focused, a stark contrast to the intimacy you’d just shared.

“Get back!” he shouted as he rushed toward the sound, and you felt a chill run over you. 

Something was terribly wrong.

You stepped into the hallway, heart racing as hell, when suddenly, you saw the flash of a figure moving quickly toward him. Instinct kicked in, and you were about to scream when Russell pivoted, drawing a weapon you never knew he had.

In a split second, he fired. The sound of the gunshot echoed like thunder in the small space, making you jump. 

The intruder stumbled, and then collapsed to the floor in a heap.

You stood frozen, eyes wide, as the realization of what just happened hit you. YOu just witnessed a murder. There’s a dead body. In your house. 

The body of the intruder lay motionless, and a knot of horror tightened in your stomach.

“Russ…” you breathed, struggling to process what you’d just witnessed. He turned to you, his face pale but his eyes dark, filled with an intensity that was absolutely foreign to you and terrifying.

“I’m sorry” he said, breathless. “I–” he stammered. “I didn’t want you to see that.”

“Who was he?” you asked, voice, hands, body, trembling. “W–Why did you shoot him? We could just... we should have just called the cops!”

Russell stepped toward you, his gun still in hand, his breath coming in quick bursts. He contemplated what to say. But the months of keeping you in the dark… it was enough. It was time to finally tell the truth. Even if it hurt like a son of a bitch.

“He… He was here to kill me. Kill us.”

Your heart sank, and the pieces began to fall into place. You had known Russell had a past, but this? You had never imagined he was mixed up in something this dangerous.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this. I wanted to keep you safe.”

“Safe?” you echoed. "From what?"

“From Horizon... From... all of this." he said motioned to the now blood-soaked carpet. "I didn’t choose this life” he sighed, frustration creeping into his voice. “I wanted to leave it behind. But they won’t let me. They never will.”

The gravity of the situation pressed down on you, and you felt your world tilt on its axis. You couldn’t comprehend the reality of what was unfolding before you.

The man you loved, the man who had shown you such tenderness, was also a part of something dark and deadly. The man you thought you knew— he killed a man. He shot a man right in front of your very eyes. And he did it precision. Without any hesitance. And it scared you. No, it terrified you.

And… what the hell was Horizon?

“We need to go” Russell said urgently, glancing at the still body on the floor. “They’ll come looking for him, and we can’t be here when they do.”

“What? Where?” you asked, feeling the panic rise in your chest.

“Anywhere but here” he said, taking your hand and leading you toward the back door. “Trust me, Y/N. I’ll keep you safe.”

“No” you said stopping in your tracks as you pulled your hand out of his hold. “Why would I trust you? I– I won't go anywhere with you.”

“What?” Russell stopped in his tracks to turn around and face you. “Y/N, we don’t have time to argue right now, I–”

“No, Russell. You fucking lied to me, kept secrets from me. I won’t go anywhere with you. I–” you trailed off. “Get the hell out of here.”

“Y/N”

“I said get the hell out of here!” you shouted.

“There’s a body in your house. I won't leave you here like this. At least– fuck, at least let me take care of it” he said frustratedly. Though her words stung, he knew he deserved it all. Still, he got her in this mess… the least he can do is to try to get her out of it. “Then… I’ll take you to your sister’s” he added reluctantly.

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You were in the middle of scrolling through social media on your couch. All of your friends, mutuals and family members had shared the news of Emma’s disappearance. It was desperate, you knew, but all means necessary to find your daughter. You were about to share the post in another Missing Persons Facebook group when the doorbell rang.

You opened the door, expecting only Colter standing there. But he wasn’t alone. It was the man behind him that made your heart skip a beat. 

Russell. 

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Next on Tuesday’s Gone (Sneak peek from Chapter 3):

“Why are you here?” You spat, your voice trembling with anger. “Are you actually worried about her… or are you just feeling guilty?”

“Because I didn’t know” Russell replied, his expression softening. “I didn’t know what I was missing until Colter called. He told me about Emma, about how scared you must be. And hell yes, I feel guilty. I— I wish I knew about her” he sighed. “Maybe I could have protected her from all of this.”

Just as you were about to answer him, to tell him another wave of fuck yous, Colter marched into the house. “I think you should see this.”

Both you and Russell turned to the younger Shaw, and you eyed him warily. “What?” you asked, still heated from the argument you and his brother had.

“There are new footprints on the front porch.” Colter said and motioned for you to follow him outside.

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Aaand the plot thickens.

Thank you for reading Chapter 2 of Tuesday's Gone, I hope you liked it!

Read Chapter 3 here

Xx Pam