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another-supernova-girl · 3 months ago

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An Exercise in Control - Cooper Adams/Abbott x Fem OC

* Part 2 : The Line Begins to Blur *

Welcome to chapter 2 (of 5) of my Cooper Adams/Abbott fic. Thank you to everyone who gave the first chapter a chance, especially those who reblogged and/or commented. I know it wasn't super exciting, but some groundwork had to be laid. I promise things are about to get more interesting 💙As Always, gif is mine.

CHAPTER 1 CAN BE FOUND HERE

(( word count ~ 4,200 ))

🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪

“Hey there, Delilah,” rang out a voice that was not familiar, yet the source, unmistakable. She could have passed by without noticing them, or pretended she hadn't, but her earbuds had gone quiet between tracks, and the second of pause in her stride told them they had not gone unheard. When they shouted her name alone, louder, she paused completely, and swerved around in an annoyed one-eighty.

“What?!” her voice called back, raising her shoulders at a pair of fast fashion clothing store employees, hanging just outside the opening that served as the retailer's door. She didn't know all of their names, but almost all of them, throughout the mall, seemed to belong to the same hivemind of juvenile behavior. They are juveniles, Delilah silently reminded herself as they beckoned her over. They're teenagers. Their frontal lobes aren't fully developed-

“Is it true you're fucking the narc?” one of the girls demanded, and the few steps Delilah had taken came to a pause. “It is, right? You're fucking the Rent-A-Cop?” she reiterated, and Delilah's eyes simply slid closed, a sigh escaping her.

“Not that's it's remotely your business who I fuck, but no. Cooper and I are just friends,” she stated simply, hoping to end it there, but before she could turn, a sharp acrylic nail snagged the edge of her uniform top, threatening to pierce it.

“Oh, first-name basis? That's...yeah, that's convincing,” the other girl quipped.

Delilah wished the experience of this ridiculousness was a first time occurrence, but it had probably happened at least a half dozen times now, between employees speaking directly at her – never to her – or talking about it like she wasn't in clear earshot. It was like living in perpetual high school, over a decade post-graduation.

“Don't you have some sweatshop shirts to sell?” Delilah retorted, and they both rolled their eyes. “Or a junior year to repeat, Samantha?” The taller of the two suddenly went quite still.

“That's not true-”

“Really? That's not what Laura said” she replied, choosing a name out of dozens, no idea if it was the right one, nor did she care. This would go on forever if she didn't force a distraction.

“Laura from the Hollister?” she demanded, and Delilah nodded quickly. She'd have to remember to avoid passing by the Hollister for a while. With the two girls distracted by manufactured drama, Delilah made quick steps the direction she'd originally been traveling. She walked so fast she didn't notice the security guard on the other side of the wall she passed, tucked away in the shadow, listening intently.

🔪

A hand suddenly placed against the small of her back sent a full-body shudder through Delilah's body as she stood near the far end of the bookstore, the mall just closed within the last hour, granting her the time to finally take care of the stocking of shelves without the worry of booktok-addicted thieves popping in to snatch something and scamper off. One of her earbuds was plucked from her ear by a hand that wasn't her own, and she turned about to find Cooper standing even closer than usual. “You're never gonna stop doing that, are you?” she questioned, letting out a sigh and putting her palm against the black material of his uniform to create a bit more distance between them.

“I'll stop doing it when you stop giving me such cute reactions,” Cooper answered, and Delilah's cheeks flushed a few shades. It was true what she'd told the H&M girlies, that they were, in fact, not fucking. They hadn't even kissed. Nothing had happened beyond him occasionally placing his hands on her in ways that were just close enough to indifferent to not spark definite suspicions of some deeper intent. Or maybe the bookseller just didn't want to let her hopes and imagination get the best of her, and leave her with more melancholy. “Are you alright?”

“Why wouldn't I be alright?” Delilah asked, gathering up the new books that wouldn't fit on the shelves, and tucking them back into the inventory box.

“I don't know. I usually see you at least once before closing time. Thought I might have done something,” he shrugged, watching her flit around, out of his physical reach.

“Of course not,” she answered automatically, and before she could get past him, he spoke up again.

“I heard those girls,” Cooper stated simply, his mind having reflected on the conversation he'd listened in on a few hours previous. “Does that happen a lot?”

“It's...it's just stupid teen gossip,” Delilah quipped, avoiding direct eye contact as she shuffled around. She always seemed to be visibly more busied when she didn't like the direction of the conversation. “They think I get special treatment because we...” she paused, hearing the squeaking sound of worn vinyl as Cooper plopped down on a beanbag chair from the children's section, his body looking like that of a giant, atop the diminutive peace of 'furniture'. “Because you hang around a lot, I guess.”

Cooper was quiet for several seconds before he spoke up, Delilah's actions becoming more unfocused. Though she tried to make herself look busy, the security guard experienced no issue in seeing right through her performative nonchalance. “Does that bother you?” he asked suddenly, and Delilah's body stilled, shifting to finally look at him. He was pretty much all she thought about anymore, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to simply be around him when she wanted so much more than a casual workplace friendship.

“That they bring their bratty high school attitude to work and make it everyone else's problem?” she retorted.

“That I spend so much time around here,” he clarified. “I hope I'm not wearing out my welcome.”

“No, of course not, you aren't...not remotely,” she finally admitted, shaking her head slightly, her green eyes earnest as she stared into his umber gaze, almost blackened by the shadow cast from his brow.

“You're sure?” Cooper asked, his stare unceasing as she leaned against the edge of a sturdy bookcase.

“Of...Of course,” she mumbled, her vision falling away as his eyes became too dangerous to continue staring into. “You're...I mean, I'm sure you've noticed that I...I really don't have much in the way of...well, anyone,” she admitted, her thumb running along her other hand where she clasped them together in a self-soothing gesture.

“You've got friends outside w-”

“No, I really don't. I used to. But I don't know, it's like...it's so hard to make friends that you don't,” she paused and gestured to him as an example, punishing the beanbag chair with his muscle-fueled weight, “work in the vicinity of. I used to have friends, back when I worked at the office. Or I thought I did, but...between everyone else quitting or moving, or getting married, or pregnant, or both...all my friendships kind of dissolved before I ever left. It's like...if you don't fit inside this predetermined section of adulthood, you're not worth being around...Especially when you're the not-fun one who also doesn't want to go to happy hour, after.”

Cooper sat in silence, listening to her spill. It was true that he hadn't established any surface friendships that weren't extremely casual, and connected to the mall, but making friends and staying on people's positive purview had never been an issue for him. Though, the whole mentally unstable serial killer charm was probably tied to that. Or maybe it was just harder for women. “So, I'm not bothering you?” he finally asked. He wasn't really invested in the idea of helping her develop new friendships. He liked her exactly where she was, right below his metaphorical thumb.

“To be honest...you're pretty much the highlight of my day, most days,” she admitted, her gaze falling back to the floor at the admission. It felt uncomfortably close to an admission of her attraction, her affection for him, but it was true, and she couldn't keep living in the perpetual fear that her feelings weren't reflected in his own.

“Well,” Cooper finally spoke up, reaching his hand up for assistance off what was practically the floor. It took nearly all of her effort when she took his hand and pulled with all her strength to bring him up to his feet, stumbling a bit when he towered over her, not even a foot between them. A light chuckle not even Cooper expected slipped out of him, and his left hand was reaching for hers, his right tipping up her chin with the slightest contact. “I suppose I'll just have to work on making it 'everyday'.”

🔪

It was half past one when Delilah's shoes clacked against the peeling vinyl floor of an Italian restaurant conjoined with the mall, thankful she'd kept the key-code to the outside door, written down from when a former employee had shared it with her. A secret entrance for employees only that not even Cooper had noticed on his rounds, it had saved her more than once when she'd left the mall after work and realized she'd left something behind, long after the guards had locked up. It had been her laptop charger this time, and with her actually managing to snag a full day and night off, she couldn't afford to leave it until she worked next. She held an unlikely hope that she might run into Cooper one last time before her day off, with the comforting attention he'd paid her earlier that night, and the knowledge that she'd have to deal with her roommate soon. Walking a little too close to one of the lengthy walls down a main corridor, she nearly toppled to the ground when a door she had never seen utilized suddenly swung open, almost smacking against her.

“C-Cooper...That's two times in one night,” she managed, a little shaken from almost colliding face-first with the solid door.

“Where...How did you get in here? I made sure your car was gone before I locked everything up,” Cooper spoke, his voice sounding a bit off, his brows more animate than usual, and his bottom jaw shifting from side to side with tension.

“There's a key-code door to the Maggiano's employee entrance. I guess the code hasn't changed in a while,” she explained. “Speaking of doors...” she indicated the one Cooper had his hand firmly planted against. “I didn't even know anyone used that one. What were you doing in there?”

Cooper's little facial ticks pricked and tugged at his handsome features, actively thinking up a believable lie. Never once had he accessed the basement levels when the mall was open, while Delilah was on the premises. His acts...his violent, carved up acts...it wasn't exactly possible to keep his two lives separate as he had before, in his marriage. Perhaps it had not been as separate as he might admit to himself, given the jewelry he'd gifted his wife and daughter, literal trophies of some of his dismemberments. But this side of himself, he had no intentions to introduce her to. Their game was not about violence, as all his others had been. His urges were not the same as what he felt toward those people he believed saw themselves as whole. It hadn't been worth the risk of letting her even know the lower levels even existed, but her fingers were reaching for the handle of the door before he could register her movement.

“I can't let you-” Cooper began, his tone like a command, as if it were forbidden. That only made her want to venture on.

“Oh, come on, what's down there?” she asked, intrigued.

“It's...not much of anything,” he uttered, but she was slipping around him and reaching for the knob again, his arms shooting out to grasp her wrists before he realized what he was doing. Neither moved, both conscious of the new, even more powerful position he held over her. His eyes seemed so black in the poor lighting of the after hours hallway, no words exchanged between them as he carefully guided her hands to the cool metal of the door, her slender form practically engulfed in his shadow. “It's not for you,” he stated firmly, which only served to shift her curiosity into suspicion.

“What do you mean, it's not for me...Is it for someone else?” she asked. The last question had a twinge of self-doubt that she immediately regretted.

Cooper observed her in silence, his hands abandoning her wrists and drawing away from the door, his palms finding the sides of her waist, his grip light but not subtle. “Who else would there be?”

Delilah's hands finally broke contact with the metal surface, drifting down to insufficiently wrap over the hands at her waist, her gaze following, watching with nervous interest as his digits played at the untucked hem of her shirt, curling slightly to expose her midriff, his callous-roughened fingertips and blunt nails scraping her skin. Looking not to the man at her back, but past him to the camera she knew pointed in their vicinity from it's home on the ceiling, her fingers finally gripped his hands for fully, and she dragged them away from her torso. “I should really be-”

“Don't go,” Cooper murmured, his hand grasping hers before she could completely escape his presence. “If you really want to see...I'll show you what's down there,” his voice was low, calm, almost disconcertingly so, but it held her just as firmly as his physical grasp. “It can be our secret.”

🔪

Slipping through the heavy, metal door, Delilah's shoulders twitched at the sound of it slamming home behind herself and the security guard. From what she could see in the seconds before it had closed noisily behind them, they seemed to be standing in a long hallway that didn't have an apparent end. Surrounding the two of them was only darkness, the neon lights on the consumer side of the door not even creeping in through the bottom edge. There was only blackness and silence outside of her anxious breathing for several seconds before Cooper spoke up again, Delilah already beginning to spiral over how incredibly stupid of a decision she might have just made. What did she know about him, really? Sure, he paid her attention, like no one else had in longer than she wished to admit, but she knew virtually nothing about him outside of the building they both worked in.

“It's this way,” he finally spoke up, and in this pitch-dark space, his presence felt even more engulfing than usual. Even alone in the bookstore at night, the only two souls left in the building, his company had never felt this intense...almost threatening.

“Wh...what's this way?” she asked, her voice cracking, his hand cupping her shoulder as she walked ahead of him at a leisured pace.

“A staircase,” he stated simply, his free hand reaching into one of his many pocket compartments to draw out a high lumen flashlight, Delilah's shoulders going slack almost immediately at the sudden flood of light. “There's a whole basement floor that seems to have been abandoned,” he advised, mentally noting her quickly calming demeanor as she glanced along the walls, and Cooper pressed the flashlight into her hand to allow her to take lead. His current victim was chained and gagged at the far end of the basement level, after all, and way out of earshot from anywhere he'd permit her to explore. When they finally reached a wall, a single story flight of stairs came into view, a faint glow at the bottom.

“This is...how did you find out about this?” Delilah queried, clicking off the flashlight and passing it back to Cooper, her gaze flitting in all directions as they reached the bottom of the staircase.

Schematics and blueprints from the city archives, Cooper recalled, before speaking up. “I lucked out. I found a ring of keys in the security office behind the desk, and one of them fit.” He'd searched extensively for hidden spaces, forgotten by time, long before settling on this community, and his current position.

“Okay, but...why keep it a secret?” she continued, giving him a confused look, before glancing past his shoulder. The basement level was full of half-built walls that opened up to empty spaces, winding hallways, a few locked doors here and there.

“Purely selfish reasons,” Cooper admitted, and Delilah glanced back at him once more.

“Like?” She asked, and when the security guard hesitated, her features took on a look of despondence. “Oh, right. We don't talk about you. I almost forgot-”

“I have some hobbies that require a lot of space that my home can't accommodate,” the Butcher spoke up. “Plus...sometimes it's nice to have a little space to hide away. I know you can relate to that.”

“A little?” Delilah repeated his words, reaching a hand out and making a sweeping gesture with her arm at the enormous, seemingly endless liminal space they found themselves in. Cooper put on a casual smile and shrugged his shoulders, glancing around as well, making certain they weren't anywhere near his victim. Well, his other victim. “And those hobbies?” she hedged, but he shook his head faintly, and she nodded.

“Like I said...they aren't for you,” he reminded, and she cast her gaze away from him.

“So...I guess I don't understand why you wanted me to come down here, then?” she concluded, a frown forming on her lips.

Cooper was silent for a few moments before he spoke up. He wasn't certain, himself, why he'd gone against his better, secret-keeping judgment. “Maybe I...just wanted to get you to myself,” he finally offered.

Delilah let out a soft, unenthusiastic laugh. “You basically have me to yourself, all the time...it's not like anyone's exactly competing for my time, and...attention,” she paused when she registered that he was no longer at her side. When she turned around, it also dawned on her just how dark it had become, realizing they had managed to wander way past the functionality of the overhead lights. “Cooper?”

“I'm here,” he spoke up almost immediately, and she swiveled around in the direction of his voice.

“I...think we should go back,” she mumbled, glancing around in the dark when she heard his feet move against the concrete floor.

“Why?” he asked bluntly, and Delilah's brows knit together in confusion and unease.

“Because...you're kind of...making me uncomfortable,” she admitted, turning when she heard his shoes on the floor again.

“Do you want me to make you comfortable?” he inquired, which did nothing but put her more on edge.

“Cooper-”

“We could stay...I could keep you down here...all to myself...steal you away,” his voice had taken on a low, gravely tone that confused her even more, though not so much with him, but herself. Where was her self-preservation instinct? Did she not have a phone with a flashlight in her pocket? Could she not just- “I'm not hearing a no.”

“Of course it's a no,” she managed, reaching out in the direction she perceived his voice to be emanating from, and grasping a fistful of his jacket.

“You don't sound so sure,” Cooper spoke up, his hand gently grasping the smaller one that gripped his outer layer of clothing, carefully dragging it away, weaving his own fingers betwixt hers instead.

“Cooper, you're...you're kind of scaring me,” she admitted, and the Butcher finally paused.

“I know,” he finally answered, feeling her fingers attempting to tug away from his grasp. “It's not fair of me, but I...you know it's just a joke, right? You know I'd never hurt you.”

No, I definitely don't know that, Delilah thought, but kept her vocalizations more subdued. “Then...let's just get out of here,” she cautiously suggested.

More silence from the large, looming form in front of her, and his free hand was at her cheek, the subtlest flinch giving him a moment's pause. “Please...just a little longer. I know you have to go home, but...just stay a little longer. No more bad jokes,” he pleaded, his tone subdued.

When she returned no words in answer, he let out an audible breath, glancing back in the direction he knew led to the staircase. He'd pushed too far. It was too-

"I guess I...I just don't really understand what you see in me. I mean, you're so...and I'm just...I'm really not anything special,” she finally admitted, and if she'd been able to see anything, she'd have seen the surprise and disbelieve on his face.

"Who told you that lie?" he finally spoke, the hand that had morphed with hers departing to rise up and cup her cheek, her flushed skin warm and soft against his callous-roughened hand.

“It's more like years of experience,” she mumbled, and she felt him step in closer, her own feet traveling backwards on instinct. “You hang around me all the time, but you don't let me in, and I never know where I stand with you, and-” her words came to an end when she felt the pad of his finger press against her lips, her back colliding against one of the many walls she couldn't see. Expecting to feel his lips against hers, she was surprised to feel the firm surface of his forehead against hers instead, Cooper leaning over her, his hands at her jaw, her neck, over her shoulders where they remained.

“You're right...I'm out of practice, and that's no fault of yours,” he admitted, waiting for her shoulders to tense or not. They remained lax in his loose grip.

🔪

Much as he desired to stay in the hidden realm of the basement level, to test the limits of her trust, push her farther, perhaps across an empty table with her chest to the unvarnished wood, one hand on her back while the other dragged down his zipper to...well, perhaps some other time. So long as Cooper played his hand well, kept the worst of his proclivities at bay, his time and chances to turn her to putty in his hands were virtually limitless. Maybe a little private show under the watchful, constant gaze of the CCTV from the comfort of the security office-

The clanging of the metal barrier slapping against the recently mopped floors brought Cooper's thoughts back to the real world, and he pressed off the wall he'd leaned against, waiting for Delilah to retrieve her laptop charger. “Got it,” she declared, holding it up as if he required proof, before stuffing it into her purse. He nodded and reached out a hand when she stepped close enough, the two of them meeting in the middle of the corridor. When Cooper noticed her brief hesitance, he made the decision for her, and clasped his hand around hers, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Somehow, if felt different in the open, under the glowing neon of the store fronts they passed, even with no one else around to see them.

“I'm not gonna bite,” Cooper spoke up as he observed the way she focused her gaze on literally anything but himself, though she made no attempt to extract her hand from his. “Unless you want me to,” he added, and was pleased and a bit relieved to catch the smile that tugged at her lips.

She nearly apologized before she caught herself, concluding she didn't really have anything to apologize for. “In the basement, you...you really made me uncomfortable,” she explained, chancing a glance up to his eyes that watched her so ceaselessly.

“I know,” he confessed, abandoning her hand closest to him, only to reach around and grasp her other hand, lifting it to hold in his where his wrist balanced atop her shoulder. “I can't promise it won't happen again,” he admitted, giving the hand clutched in his larger one a slight squeeze when her brows furrowed at his words. “But, I'll try to be more...cognizant of your boundaries.”

We haven't even been on a date, and I feel like I need a safe word, Delilah thought, as the mall entrance closest to her car came into view. “Well, anyway...thanks for...whatever the hell tonight was,” she declared as Cooper finally let go of her hand, her brows quirked as she considered the strangeness of their evening. Cooper shrugged his shoulders, a calm smile across his lips as he set to work unlocking the door, and holding it open for her. “I guess I'll see you...in a couple nights,” she added, and he nodded simply, lifting a hand to wave before she could turn away to trudge toward her car.

She hadn't made it ten feet before his voice suddenly called out to her, and she swiveled around to face him. “Delilah, can I...can I take you out to dinner, sometime?”

The bookseller stared at him, her lips parting, and closing again without sound, running her tongue nervously over them, trying again. “Like, on a date? A real date?”

Cooper's smile became more broad as his gaze softened, leaning against the open door of the building entrance. “Yeah. A real one.”

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CHAPTER 3 CAN BE FOUND HERE

tagging as requested : @one-of-thewalkingdead , @gissellec1 , @rainingrabbits89-blog , @pinkflowerwombat , @sashimeep , @strangererotica @the-butchers-baby @callsign-fangirl @hibiskooks

If I forgot anyone, I apologize, and please let me know if you want to be tagged in the next one

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS AND TAGS ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED. I KNOW THIS IS A BIT DIFFERENT THAN MOST OF THE OTHER COOPER STORIES BEING WRITTEN, BUT I HOPE IT APPEALS TO SOMEONE BESIDES MYSELF 💙

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bevanne46 · 8 months ago

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How to Build a Fabric Stash without Breaking the Bank

Fabric can be expensive but it doesn’t have to be. If you are not stuck on Name Brands or Specialty Fabric Store Exclusives here are some ways to build your fabric stash without costing an arm and a leg. I have made many beautiful quilts using various fabrics from various supplies. And I believe that the quality is not just in the fabric you use but also in your stitch work and seams sizes. If your seams are less than a ¼” they will not hold (personally I prefer to use a ½” seam allowance). If you are not securing your thread ends, your stitch work is going to come undone. So be sure to watch these things too.

Look for fabric at your local Thrift Store (Goodwill, Value Village, etc.)

I have found some wonderful fabrics in various sizes, notions, storage items and more at my local Thrift Stores. I have even found unfinished quilt tops that I have brought home and added a backing to then quilted. Remember that almost any size fabric remnant can be added to other remnants to make some wonderful scrappy quilts so save your own remnants after making a quilt, you may be able to use it later in another quilt.

Look for local Fabric Sales held by Quilting Guilds in Your Area.

We have 2 near me every summer.One charges $2 per pound for any fabric. The second one charges $2 per yard for any fabric. Both also sell batting, notions, books, machines, tools, and more.

Look for fabric on Facebook Marketplace, Nextdoor and other sites.

I sell extra fabric on Marketplace and Nextdoor. I have also found several ladies near me selling fabric that I have purchased. And some I have purchased with shipping to me.

Look for older 100% Cotton Sheets at your local Thrift Stores.

Back in the 1800’s and early 1900’s, Quilts were not show pieces. They were real functional blankets that were made from any and all fabrics they could get, usually used clothing. I think there is no reason why we cannot still do that instead of buying expensive fabrics. I have often used clothing, sheets, curtains, and other linens to make some wonderful, usable quilts. And there are some wonderful patterns you can use for quilts in bedsheets from the 1980’s and 1990’s. Note: I always wash anything from a Thrift Store before I use it.

Watch for Fabric Sales and Coupons for Joanns, Hobby Lobby and other Fabric & Craft Stores.

I know some quilters believe that the fabric from Joanns & Hobby Lobby is poor quality but I have not found any bad fabric from these stores. We do not have a “Quilting” store close to me and because I’m handicapped, I will not drive an hour or more just to buy expensive fabric. If I did that, I wouldn’t be able to afford to quilt. I will also buy fabric from Walmart but I am more careful with my selection there as most fabric at Walmart is good but I have had one or two pieces that I felt were poorer quality.

Watch for Fabric Sales and Coupons for your Local Quilt Shop.

Quilt shops will also have occasional sales and/or coupons so if you prefer to shop at these locations take notice of when they have sales. Also ask if they ever give discounts to seniors or military.

Use New or Older Clothing.

I have made a lot of beautiful Memorial Quilts from a loved one’s clothing and T-Shirt quilts. I will use jeans, work shirts, uniforms, flannel, cotton, polyester and even some knits. These can be a little trickier to work with because they are often stretchy fabrics but they will add a wonderful texture and visual variance to your quilts. I recently found a pair of cotton pants with Mickey Mouse on them. I fell in love with them because they were so colorful, and I love bold colors. I found several other cotton fabrics that matched the colors in the Mickey pants and made a bold colorful quilt!

Rethink Your Backing Fabric

No one ever said your quilt backing had to be all New Cotton. You can use Fleece, Flannel or Bed Sheets as well. On many occasions I have found some wonderful fleece blankets on clearance and used these for my quilt backing. Joanns right now has a great clearance sale on Flannel fabric. The best part about using some of these is that you can get then in a wider width so you may be able to make your backing in all one piece instead of 2 or more like when using regular cotton (unless you want your backing to be in various colors/patterns). You can also use new or older cotton bed sheets for a quilt backing. Again, you can make your quilt backing in one solid piece with a sheet!

Check the Clearance Section for Your Favorite On-Line Stores

I have several on-lines stores that I love to shop from (e-Quilter, Missouri Star, etc.) but sometimes they can be expensive so I always check the clearance section of these stores. There are times I will find some beautiful fabrics on clearance so will purchase it then look for matching piece everywhere else so I can get the best deals. Also check for on-line sales from Joanns, Hobby Lobby and other on-lines stores that sell fabric and/or sheets.

Check Out Your Local Garage, Moving and Estate Sales

I have found some of the best deals at moving and estate sales because often the seller is willing to bargain with you. I once found an estate sale where a family was selling off all their mother’s quilting and sewing items because she had passed away and none of then sewed. There was more fabric and notions than I would have used in a year so I found lots of thread and items I purchased at a great price.

Note on Batting

I know that many quilters believe that the only batting you should use is expensive cotton batting. I disagree. There are many forms of batting. Cotton/Poly blends, Polyester, and Fleece. I love cotton batting but cotton will break down quicker than polyester and I want my quilts to last a lifetime so for most of my quilts I actually use Polyester more often than not. I have taken the backing off many older quilts to do repair work and the cotton batting inside was all balled up and a real mess.

Now when I am doing the Quilt-as-you-Go method I use a Fleece batting. The fleece can be cut into smaller pieces, fabric added to the top and then sewn back together to make wonderful quilts. And the batting doesn’t get stuck in my machine.

Shop Around for your batting to find the best deals. Sometimes Joanns has a sale on batting but the best price I have found so far has been Walmart on-line. I can buy a 96” x 9 yard Bolt of Poly Batting for just $30 on Walmart on-line. This bolt will make 4+ quilts depending on the size of the quilt and I will have lots of left overs for smaller projects like pillows, etc. For me the best part is that because it’s 96” wide, I don’t have to piece together my batting before I can sandwich my quilt!

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sgstories123 · 1 year ago

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Menon, The Security Guard

Menon yawned and scratched his round belly. It was only the start of the night shift and he was already tired. He had already unbuttoned his uniform and loosen his belt to make himself more comfortable. He glanced at the security camera monitors before reaching out for his kopi-o.

“Fuck! What is that?” His hands stopped midway as he spotted two figures walking in the basement floor of the shopping mall. The mall has already closed for about an hour and all customers and employees should have left the mall. He hoped that they were not thieves. He took on the night time security job as a simple, semi-retirement job. He only wants to look at security cameras, drink his kopi-o and watch porn on his handphone. He did not want to catch thieves as it is too much work. Anyway, he was already in his fifties, overweight and had not done any running for a long time. He would not be able to catch any thieves.

He pressed a few buttons on the control panel to look for the intruders. He found them along another corridor. It was a man and a woman in their twenties. They looked more like a couple lost in a shopping mall way past its closing time than thieves. They were strolling slowly, looking at the windows of the various shops. They walked into a lingerie shop and disappeared from the camera view.

“Shit!” Menon cursed as he got up awkwardly from his comfortable seat. He took a quick gulp of his kopi-o before buttoning up his security officer uniform and tightening his belt. He did not relish the thought of chasing a pair of silly young lovers through the mall.

As he reached the lingerie shop, he stopped at the entrance. He could just make out the back of the man with his buttocks exposed and his pants dropped to the ankles. He was fucking the girl who was lying on her back on the cashier counter, her legs held up and wrapped around the man’s neck. There was the familiar pink pink sound as the man thrusted into the girl. Both of them were moaning and groaning in symphonic unison. Menon whipped out his handphone and began recording the scene. This was better than watching porn in his office.

As the man grunted and pushed himself against the girl on the counter, Menon could see that there was some string tied across his exposed back. As the lighting and angle blocked his vision, Menon shifted his position. That man was wearing a bikini green top while fucking the girl. What a pervert, Menon thought. But that was not all, he was also holding onto some red panties and rubbing them across his face with one hand while he was fucking the girl.

Now that he could see more clearly, he realised that the girl was also naked except that her hands were tied together by some colourful bras. She too, was wearing a green bikini top. Menon moved a little closer to get a better view but as he was focused on the scene on his camera, he failed to notice some empty boxes near the entrance and stumbled onto them. The noise surprised the couple and both of them stopped their lovemaking and stared right at Menon.

Menon immediately straightened himself and spoke commandingly, pointing to his phone. “What are you two doing here? Are you damaging the store’s goods? I got the evidence here and I will report you to the police.”

The man pulled up his pants with one hand and the other reached out for his shirt with the other. Without even removing the bikini top that he was wearing, he ran out of the store, pushing Menon aside. Menon lost his balance and fell on the ground. The man turned around and gave a smirk before running down the corridor. Menon got up as quickly as he could. The girl had already pulled on her skirt and her blouse was still unbuttoned, revealing her exposed breast. It was too late to make a run.

“Please, sir. Let me go. Don’t call the police.” The girl pleaded, her eyes red.

“Well, you broke several laws. Trespassing, damaging property and a lot of others. I will need to report you and your boyfriend. You need to give me his details since he is such a coward and ran away.” Menon replied, his eye never leaving the exposed breasts and the hard, dark, erect nipples standing clearly above the milky, white round globes of young female meat.

“He is not my boyfriend. I don’t even know his name. He gave me $300 to fuck him in the handicapped toilet just now. By the time we are done, the mall has closed. He gave me another $200 to fuck him in the store wearing the clothes. I did not think there is anything wrong. We did not steal anything.” The girl pleaded, her tears gathering in her eyes. “I will pay for the clothes. Please. Don’t report to the police. I will do anything.”

Menon knew that there is no one else in the mall and no security cameras in the store. He could do anything here and get away with it.

“Well, I can keep it quiet but it is very risky for me. I could lose my job.” Menon smiled deviously. “Why should I take the risk? What can you do for me?”

“How about I give you the $500? Please, just let me go.” The girl looked intently at Menon, hope sparkling in her eyes.

“I don’t need the money. What else can you do for me?” Menon pushed further.

“What do you want me to do? I will do anything. Just don’t report to the police or my parents will kill me.” The girl was desperate.

“Being a security guard is very lonely and boring. You seem to make the other guy very happy. How about you make me happy and I might just forget about this whole thing.” Menon suggested, an evil glint in his eye.

The girl knew what he wanted and without another word, knelt down in front of Menon. “Promise me that you won’t report to the police, please?” She looked at Menon for confirmation.

“Make me happy and I will forget everything.” Menon promised.

The girl loosened Menon’s belt and unzipped his trousers. The unwashed cock soaked in perspiration smelled horrible. She even spotted a yellow, urine stain on the large white briefs. She looked up hesitatingly at Menon, but saw only an evil grin anticipating pleasure. She steeled herself and pulled down Menon’s brief. A large, thick flaccid cock among a dense of wiry pubic hair appeared before her. The smell was even more horrid. She lifted the cock with two of her fingers warily, as if she was dealing with some kind of fearsome looking insect. It was sticky and disgusting. She stroked it with her fingers, not daring to hold the thing in her palm, hoping that Menon will cum quickly.

“I can’t feel anything. Put more effort, girl.” Menon grunted.

The girl grabbed Menon’s cock in her hands and stroke it more furiously. She grabbed his balls with her other hand but was disgusted by the touch of the thick sticky mess of hair. But despite her efforts, Menon’s cock remain flaccid. Another old man who cannot get it up, she thought to herself.

“Suck it. I need a good blowjob.” Menon commanded. The girl knew that this was coming but thought she could avoid it if she managed a successful handjob. She sighed inwardly and licked the tip of Menon’s cock. The smell hit her like a wall. She held her breath and continued the blowjob. The cock tasted horrible. It tasted bitter and felt rough. It was thick and long too which made it difficult for her to do it without gagging. Worst of all, the pubic hair was getting into her teeth and brushing against her face, making it difficult for her to breath.

Menon was enjoying himself as the girl sucked on his cock. She was much younger than the prostitutes he visited in Desker Road and free to boot. He grabbed her breasts, squeezing them as the girl continued sucking on his cock. He could feel his cock getting hard. Shit. He cursed himself. If he had known he is getting lucky tonight, he would have taken the sex pill that he bought from the street vendors in Desker. Those were powerful stuff, giving him a hard cock almost immediately. Now he can only hope his little brother don’t fail him. He sighed.

The girl was relieved when she saw that Menon’s cock was getting harder. This will end soon, she consoled herself. Menon's large paunch was hitting against her head and causing her a headache. She squeezed his cock harder and stroked it faster, willing it to cum quickly and for the ordeal to end. She could not take the whole cock in her mouth now as it was too big and thick. Already, her jaws were hurting from the strain of opening her mouth too wide. She could only lick the tip of Menon’s cock and hope that that is enough to bring him across his pleasure point.

But Menon had other plans. “Get up and lie down on the cashier counter. I want to do what the other guy did.”

The girl looked at Menon disbelievingly. She knew that she had no choice. She removed her skirt, got up on the cashier counter and spread her legs. “Go slow, please. Your cock is very big. I am not sure if it can go in.”

Menon ignored her and positioned his cock at her pussy entrance. It was shaved and smooth like butter. He ran his fingers along her slit, and was happy to find that it was still wet from the earlier session. He rubbed his cock along her slit and the head went in easily. It was tight or maybe like what the girl said, his cock was simply too big. He could not get it in easily like when he was fucking the prostitutes in Desker. He inched it in slowly, grunting and perspiring. It was hard work. But it was rewarding as with every inch that he managed to get his cock in, the pleasure intensified exponentially. The girl was groaning in pain, repeatedly crying for him to stop. He could not care less and was only focused on his own pleasure. Finally, he got his whole cock in as his body touched the girl’s body. He paused for a moment to enjoy the warm, tight grasp of the girl’s pussy on his cock while he wiped the beads of perspiration off his forehead. His body was already drenched in perspiration, his chest hair a tangled mess. This was harder than running 2.4km.

The girl seemed to have recovered somewhat, her breathing was still ragged but she had stopped screaming. Menon started to move slowly, drawing his cock out just an inch or so before slowly pushing it in. The girl responded with soft moans of pleasure and his cock responded to the seductive moans by growing harder, thicker and longer. Menon took his time, slowly increasing his pace, and drawing longer and longer strokes. He was not constrained by time here unlike his fucks in Desker. They were always chasing him to finish faster because the next customer is waiting. Here, he has the whole night.

As he continued with his thrusts, the girl seemed to enjoy herself even more. She was moaning louder and louder in pleasure. Several times, she pleaded for him to stop but he ignored her, continuing to thrust into her mercilessly. She seemed to have orgasmed several times, as she was shuddering, screaming and grabbing the sides of the cashier counter as she writhed and thrashed about convulsively. But Menon is not about pleasing her and making sure she enjoys herself. He is all about himself.

It took him a while but finally he could feel his balls tightening and his pleasure reaching new heights. He increased his pace, pulling his cock almost to the point of exit before plunging deep in again swiftly. Several hard thrusts later, he released himself, jerking uncontrollably as his balls emptied into the girl. He held on, enjoying the last bit of pleasure in his cock as it grows flaccid again in the girl’s tight pussy. Reluctantly, he withdrew himself as he sat down on the floor in exhaustion.

He did not know when he fell asleep. But when he woke up, the girl was already dressed and smiling at him devilishly. He was still sitting on the floor and was naked except for a green bikini top tied across his hairy chest.

“Guess what, Mr Menon. The tables have turned. From now on, you better be a good boy and listen to me.” The girl bend downwards and stroked his head. “You should have a password on your phone. I have deleted the video so you don’t have anything on me now. In return, I have taken some very nice photos of you wearing nothing except a green bikini top. I have also downloaded all the information on your phone so I know everything about you, Mr Menon. If you don’t listen to me, I will send your photos to everyone that you know. I wonder what your employer will say when they see a photo of you wearing nothing except their green bikini top from their store. You will be branded as a pervert, Mr Menon.”

“What do you want from me?” Menon was in fear now.

“Well, for starters, I am going to take all the money from your wallet. But I am also thinking that since I had so much fun, I might want you to be my personal sex slave.” The girl laughed as Menon's cock stirred.

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c-h-i-m-es · 2 years ago

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-serendipity

chigiri hyoma x reader

it is starting to be like a ritual for you to visit the bookstore every other week. you love spending time surrounded with books and living in your own fantasy world. you’d visit the bookstore near your school once every two weeks and spend at least an hour inside going through some new books and mangas you found about or new releases of your favorite ones.

and with that, you were also getting used to seeing a certain pretty red haired boy whom you’d find in the bookstore almost every time you are there. you did not know the guy but from the uniform he wears, you knew him as a student from your neighbour school.

you’d make eye contact with him once in a while during your time in the bookstore. at first, it was awkward and you both would look away right after catching the other’s eye but slowly you’d start to nod to one another as a greeting which has now changed into a nod with small smile.

even right now you are in the bookstore, visiting to buy the new volume of a manga you are reading that got released. after you secure yourself a copy, you walk around the big book world to see new books added in the shelves.

after wandering around for quite a bit, you walk to the counter with the only thing you came here in the first place for. you walk to the counter and notice the rain outside.

“shit i didn’t realize it was raining.” you say as you give minnie, the cashier at the bookstore whom you’d befriended with the frequent visits, the book in your hand.

she takes it from you to scam, “yeah, the forecast said it’s gonna rain all night.” she puts the book in a paper bag and hands it to you, “do you have an umbrella?”

you give her the money and shake your head, “no i didn’t check the weather this morning.” she takes the money from you and hands you back your change, “might as well wait and see if it slows down a little?”

“i’m already late minnie, mom’s gonna kill me. thanks i’m gonna run.” you put the bag with your new piece to your collection in your bag. “bye see ya.” she blows you a kiss and waves at you.

you exit the bookstore and stay under the store’s portico. it is raining a little too hard for your liking. you sigh and take your bag off and to wear it in front when the door opens and a familiar guy joins you under the shade from rain.

“jeez it’s raining pretty hard.” you look to you side to see the pretty guy take an umbrella out of your bag and curse for not bringing one for yourself. he must have felt you staring at him because he looks at you. “you didn’t bring your umbrella?”

you shake your head at look in front at the rain pouring down on the road, “i didn't know it was gonna rain.” you say with a small pout on your lips.

you hear him sigh before he continues, “how far is your house?” you twist your neck to look at him, confused, “uhm- why would i tell you that?” no matter how nice his face and voice were, you didn’t know anything about the guy except for the type of mangas he is interested in.

he furrows his brows, “i was tryna be nice and offer to drop you home if it was close, but nevermind i guess.” you gasp, “oh no i didn’t mean to be rude, it’s just- well.. frankly and truthfully and respectfully, i don’t know you.”

he hummed, “i mean you are right to be doubtful but really, i didn’t have any ill intentions. well i’m gonna go then. get home safe.” he opens his umbrella and was about to step out in the rain when you stop me.

“didn’t you just say that you were gonna drop me home?” he turns back to you after you speak, “that was before you said you and me- we don’t know each other and i don’t wanna come off as some creep.”

“so.. you changed your mind?” he looks at you like it is very much obvious, which maybe it is. but you couldn’t believe he’d leave you go home in the rain after his almost offer to drop you home, "yeah."

you huff and put your bag strap over your one shoulder to fold your arms over your chest, you could not believe the man, “you can’t just leave me here you know.”

“girl like you said, i don’t even know you.”

“yeah and it’s getting dark and it raining and i don’t have an umbrella and you did offer to drop me home so just drop me off.. please.” you look at him with your doe eyes, hoping he’d agree.

he just stares at you for a moment before sighing, “fine,” your face instantly lightens up at his words, “come here.” you walk to him and get under his umbrella with him. “aren’t you so sweet.”

he scoffs, “keep blabbering and i will not hesitate to leave you in the rain.” you look at him, offended, “ for your information i was tryna be nice.”

“yeah okay, let’s go.” he started walking and you walk close to him. you keep a little distance between your bodies to not make it awkward which makes it even more awkward. noticing that, he sighs and puts an arm around your back and pulls closer to himself. “you are getting soaked.”

“thanks.” you mumble and play with your fingers to keep yourself distracted, “so..” you start after you realise you could not walk there besides him awkwardly, “what’s your name anyways?”

that becomes a conversation starter for you two and you continue talking about yourself a little and quickly go to the topics of mangas you enjoy. you find out that his favorite manga is attack on titan and after knowing that piece of information, you could not stop talking to him about it.

“oh my gosh it feels so nice to have someone to talk to about something you love.” you say with a huge smile on your face. hearing you, he cracks a smile, “i know right, my friends like mangas but not so much, you get it?” you nod and he continues, “so i’d spend my time in the bookstore and surround myself with the people with the same interests as me. it’s nice knowing you, y/n.”

you feel your heart flutter at his comment and you smile at him, “same here. just know that you are not gonna get rid of me anytime soon.”

he chuckles, “don’t worry i don’t plan on getting rid of you.” after that you talk a little about your families and yourselves when you reach your stop. “well this is my house. thank you for dropping me.”

“it was because you guilt tripped me, but it’s fine since you will be buying me a drink as a sorry and thank you.” he says that with a straight face which give you no possibility that he is joking.

“okay? i will be lending you the copy you did not find so that should be fine though.”

he laughs, “why are you being so serious? i was just kidding, i am not some jerk.” you could not focus on the words that came out of his lips because you are focused on how pretty he looks.

he looks at you and give you a sweet smile, “get inside, you don’t wanna catch a cold.” you snap out of your thoughts and look at the front door of your house and back at him, “oh yeah.” you are about to walk but you stop and collect some courage to look back at him, “give me your number?”

you wanted to sound a little more demanding but that came out as more of a request and you curse at yourself for it.

he looked a little surprised for a second but quickly hides it with a small smile. taking his phone out of his pocket, he gives it to you, “since you are not giving me your phone, just give me yours.”

right, you should have handed him you phone.

you take his phone and type your number in the key pad and hand it back to him. he presses the call button and you hear your phone ring, “there you have it.”

“yeah thanks i guess.”

he shakes his head and puts his phone back in his pocket, “well then go inside, you don’t wanna get sick.”

you nod, “yeah thanks again. get home safely, bye.” you reach the front door and open it, getting inside you look back at him, “text me when you get home.”

he smiles and waves at you before walking away. you look at him for s few more seconds and close the door behind you. you jump and cover your face with you hands.

“i can’t believe i said that.” you are in your own world when your mother interrupts, “say what?”

getting startled by the sudden voice, you shoot a look at your mom, “jeez you scared me. i’m gonna go change.” you run towards your room before your mom questions you anymore.

you enter your room and you could hear you mom asking you about what you were saying earlier but you just yell ‘nothing’ loud enough for her to hear and enjoy your excitement from earlier moments.

with high spirits, you change into your pjs and check your phone to see a text from chigiri.

you are so gonna enjoy being friends with your bookstore crush.

#chigiri scenarios #chigiri hyoma #chigiri x you #blue lock #bllk imagines #blue lock x reader #chigiri hyoma x reader #chigiri x reader

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bnha-headcanonss · 8 months ago

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Suggestion :)

Yall really like your Dadzawa fics lmao. I opted to not take the header image seriously, you’re welcome

(Swearing)

Words: 1940

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

I was walking home from school, had an earbud in listening to some city pop. I live in an apartment with my father near my school, U.A. high school, my dad’s a teacher there.

I was down a less busy street, had some shops here and there but it was a bit more sketchy than the more crowded streets.

I felt a tingle up my spine, you know that feeling when you’re being watched, or followed.

I look down and to the side, try to see in my peripherals just in case I am being followed and sure enough, someone was there. I kept walking, maybe a coincidence. I knew I was being followed for sure after taking 3 right turns and he was still there.

I ducked into a store and pulled out my phone. I dialed my emergency contact, it only took one ring until it answered.

“Is everything okay?”

“No I think I’m being followed. I’m at Midwest on 1 Chrome-6-1. Next to Whitely.” I gave him my location.

“Okay, is there people in the store?”

“Yes, it’s a bit crowded.”

“Stay close to the counter. I’ll be there soon.”

Dad hung up the phone and I presume left where he was.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

AIZAWA

“My daughter needs some help somewhere in town. I’m just letting you know I’ll be gone.”

“Take all the time you need. Hopefully everything is okay.” Nezu says. With that, I’m off.

I run down to Midwest and it’s empty. Merchandise is everywhere, you can hardly see the store floor. Glass is shattered everywhere, shelving is uneven and some even thrown off the walls, displays knocked over. This place is a wreak.

I rush to a back room, behind the counter, look under bigger shelving and displays, there is nobody, everybody who was originally reported here is gone, including my daughter.

“Hey man, you gotta get out of here. Some big dude just wreaked the place.” Some guy, I’d imagine the owner, said from the front door, he came from somewhere on the street.

“Did you see a girl? Teenage, black long hair, school uniform come through here?” I questioned. I have to find my daughter.

“Oh yeah. She stumbled in here all panicked and what not. She was on her phone, then looking behind her, then on her phone again. She was a mess. She stood up at the counter with me, the dude came in here and wreaked the place trying to get her. She put up one hell of a fight though. He got her and got away. I called the cops rights after.” His voice was shaky, all of him was very shaken up.

“Which way did they go?” I asked, he pointed to the manhole on the ground.

“Shit. Thank you for your help. Get somewhere safe until police arrive.” I phoned a personal contact on my end.

“Tsukauchi, I need some help over at Midwest on 1 Chrome-6-1. There was a villain attack here and a kidnapping. The owner said the villain took off with the victim in the manhole closest to the street. I’m going down but I’m going to need assistance.”

“Do not go down there alone. I’m coming along with some of the force. Stay put.”

“There’s no time, I’m going down.” I hung up, sent him my location, removed the cover and dropped in. Typically I would not have been this reckless but considering this is my daughter here, I’d say it’s justified. I’m not saying I wouldn’t do this for anybody else, this particular matter is just… personal.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Luckily, I know the underground system well enough to figure out where he went due to past chases. The underground system gets used a lot, it’s convenient and very open. It’d be a risk to shut them completely so we installed safety features to ensure our success in stopping and capturing villains. I move to my phone and open the security software all pros have enabled. It allows us to look through certain security footage around our home bases. The store front isn’t one of the locations I can see, but the underground system sure is. I scan the footage for any sign of him or my daughter. I manage to track them, she’s unconscious and slung over his shoulder and he’s bolting for the outskirts of the city. I continue on this trail until I come up near an old warehouse. A little cliché honestly.

I climbed out of the manhole and scoped out the area. Some voices inside trading details and information about deals, money, a big boss, and “the girl.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

I look in through a worn part of the warehouse and see her, still unconscious, on the floor. The men are huddled around her. I don’t see any intention of hostility so I remain put, listening to what they’re saying. If they’ve done this to my daughter, what if they’d done it to others? Or plan to? This could bust them all together.

After a couple minutes of listening I’ve gathered that these men are from the Hassaikai. A know Yakuza group around here. We’ve had issues with them in the past that led to much, much bigger things. This one needs to stop here. They’re looking for powerful quirks. My daughter has a quirk like mine which I would argue, is powerful. One that can temporarily disable a quirk. And if it’s combined with the enhancers they used previously, she may even be able to completely get rid of a quirk. Knows to really say and I’m not attempting to find out.

I hear rattling behind me, it’s Tsukauchi and some members of the force following on the surface level. I give the gesture to slow down and keep quiet.

“I told you not to run off, what’s going on?”

“They took my daughter. They’re with the Hassaikai, still on the hunt for powerful quirks. I don’t know how many times they’ve done this or if they plan to continue.” I relay to the detective.

“What? We put a stop to them. The leader is still in a coma in the hospital.”

“That’s what I thought. I’m guessing someone stepped up to carry on the organization.”

“They took your daughter?”

I pointed to her on the floor. Tsukauchi stepped away to converse with the other guys and report this issue to higher ups before making his way back over to me.

“Okay. This is your kid in there, what’s the plan?”

Tsukauchi and I devise a strategy.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Then we start kicking ass.

Mostly me to be fair. I have the badass quirk and combat experience, not that the others do, but this is also my job.

I take out the two guards they had positioned at the front. The first one went down easy but the second put up a fight. After seeing what happened to his buddy, and on a sneaky attack, he sure as hell wasn’t going to put up with it.

Tsukauchi and a couple men go around the back to secure my daughter. The men that were with my daughter attempted to stop them but my scarf got to them first.

The rest of the force charge with me. We had contained the main villains that we’re discussing plans over my daughter and we bring them in for questioning.

I left that to the police, I’m more concerned about somebody else who’s remained unconscious, I have no idea what they did to her, for precaution, I brought her to the hospital.

She was hit with some kind of sleep quirk. They put her on an IV to maintain hydration. I refused to leave her side the entire stay. This happened because I couldn’t make it to her quick enough. Or I let her go home alone. Some things may have to change if I want to keep her safe.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

She woke up after about three hours.

“Dad?”

“Musume?*”

“What’s going on?”

“The villain you called me about got to you. We took care of them, you’re safe and in the hospital. They just have you on an IV, nothing else is wrong I promise.”

“I’m so sorry.” She apologized.

“What are you sorry for? You did everything right. I need to be apologizing to you. You never should have been put in that position.” I tried to reassure her. She’s already been through a lot today as it is, I don’t want her to stress over this.

“I should’ve been smarter, I don’t know. Not have gotten myself caught. I tried using my quirk but nothing happened to him.”

“What do you mean?” Her quirk should have worked just fine. She should’ve been able to stop his quirks effect easily. She knows how to. I’ve had her practice on me and other hero’s at the school since she first developed her power. She’s practically mastered it.

“I don’t know. I did it, I know I activated it, but he remained as he was.”

“What was his quirk, do you remember?”

“I thought it would have been strength or speed, or some kind of enhanced abilities with the way he tore up the shop, and how quick he moved. But he just kept going and going.”

Is he naturally that strong? Or fast? I need to report this to Tsukauchi when I’m done here. That’s something that needs to be looked into because that was only the doings of a quirk. Naturally, that should be impossible.

“Dad?”

“Yes Musume?”

“Can we go home?”

“Of course. Let me check you out of here and we’ll go. You need rest. And you won’t be going to school tomorrow. I want to keep an eye on you just in case anything else happens with that sleep quirk they hit you with.”

“No complaints here.” She doesn’t hate school by any means, but if she gets the chance to ditch, she’ll take it. Given her grades are excellent. Frankly, they could use some work, but she gets a pass today.

After I get her checked out, we stop by a shop before heading home.

“Dango? Really?”

“Yeah. I was thinking you could use a little pick me up. Or an ‘I’m sorry you got kidnapped’ treat.” She laughed, that bright smile of hers.

“Thank you.” She kept smiling. I purchased the treat, we snacked for a moment then headed home.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re very quiet.” I questioned. Usually we talk a lot while we walk home and yes, she’s been through something traumatic but this is still slightly out of character. Just consider it good fatherly love and checking on his daughter.

“Yeah. Just shaken up. Tired. I really want to sleep.”

“Okay. We’ll get you to bed as soon as you get inside.”

“Okay.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

We reach the apartment, she gives me a hug goodnight and heads to her room. Her light is off a minute or two after shutting her door. I stay out in the living room an extra hour or so, to make sure she doesn’t need anything and so I can finish grading papers.

I finish my stack and head to bed. Tomorrow’s a different day, and hopefully a safer one at that.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

*Musume (mu-su-mei) - Daughter

I try to keep the main character as nameless as possible. I do this for self-insert reasons and a general lack of knowledge for Japanese culture in which names are a part of. This is why I use Musume a bit, it one of the only words I’ve done the research to use properly and still have it go with the story and even then, I use it when absolutely necessary.

I was thinking of using Rei as her name but I believe that’s Todorokis mother’s name and just decided to her her nameless.

Thank you for the suggestion! :)

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circusgoth-dotcom · 3 months ago

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The Daywalkers

Ship: Eric Brooks x Cashmere Carpenter

Word Count: 601

Summary: Super short piece depicting Blade and Cash's first meeting, before they started the enemies to frenemies to lovers pipeline. CWs for suggestive themes (Cashmere works as an escort), mentioned heavily implied murder.

Tag List: @canongf @futurewife

The second Cashmere clocked out of his convenience store shift, it was time to move on to his other occupation. He stripped down in the bathroom, placing his uniform in his messenger bag before slipping into a pair of spandex shorts and a cropped jacket with faux-feather accents.

He stepped out of the store, disregarding if any of his coworkers had shown up to pick up the next shift, and into the night, tucking his bag behind a dumpster in the next-door alleyway. He had done this many times before and expected he’d do it many times over. Then it was down the street to compete with others for the wallets of the lecherous.

He was about to go after a car that had slowed down at the curb when something else caught his eye; a tall, brooding figure in all black, wearing sunglasses despite the sun having gone down hours ago. He walked through the crowd of escorts as if they didn’t exist, and this intrigued Cashmere. It intrigued him enough to walk after the man, calling out.

“Hey, handsome! Do you swing this way? Need some company for the night?”

His words fell on deaf ears, so he ran ahead of the man, walking backwards in front of him. “Hey, c’mon, surely a good-looking guy like you is curious about a guy like me—” He was immediately shoulder-checked, making him pause in offence. He turned on his heel, shouting after him, “Can’t you at least reject me like a normal person?? Asshole!”

This finally made the man pause. Cashmere gulped, immediately regretting his persistence. The man turned and walked back to them, inadvertently making them back into a wall.

“Unless you can identify this man, I don’t need any services from you.” The man produced a picture depicting security footage from his coat. Cashmere casually stretched against the wall, playing off his initial concern before observing the photo. He instantly recognised him as a threat and had to hold back a hiss as he scowled.

“Yeah, I know him. What’s it to you?”

“Do you know where I could find him?”

“Why do you want to find him?”

Without a word, the man put the photo away and began to walk off. Cashmere groaned. “Fine, I’ll stop asking questions! I just wanted to know whose side you’re on… you can find him at the boardwalk, I think he lives near there. Comes up here to terrorise us regularly, though.” And regularly gets in the way of my meals, the bastard.

The man stopped in his tracks again, turning to face Cashmere once more. “Terrorise?”

“Yeah.” Cashmere narrowed his gaze, trying to figure out the stranger’s deal. “If you want it bluntly, he’s made quite a few escorts disappear. Not that anybody notices. Are you some kind of cop?”

This briefly cracked the man’s steely front, making him chuckle deeply. “No. But I do plenty of apprehending.”

“A vigilante, then.” Cashmere nodded, rubbing his arms. “Well… are you sure you can’t take a little break…?” He offered his leg suggestively, though he knew just by looking at him that sex was the farthest thing on this man’s mind. The man handed him a fifty-dollar bill.

“Stay safe out there.”

“I’ll sure try…” Cashmere hesitantly took the money. He hadn’t earned it, but pay was pay. A car horn beeped and a voice began cat-calling him. “Seems I’ve found my next meal… ticket.” They smiled at the man, gave him a little wave, then approached the car.

Blade’s gaze followed them. He didn’t miss the fangs that flashed in Cashmere’s smile.

#q'd #self shipping #self shipping community #safeshipping #gay self ship #trans self ship #self insert #self insert x canon #self x canon #self insert oc #oc x canon #circus scripts #🗡️The Daywalker🩸#🧛❤️.s/i

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tarlos-spain · 2 years ago

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Here is a new story.

Thanks @tarlosweeklyprompts for this promtp: Prompt #1: Carlos finds an abandoned baby while on patrol

This is my first chapter of something I hope it would be so fluffy and cute.

Acknowledgments: Many thanks also to my betas @chaotictarlos, @morganaspendragonss

Title: Their little girl

Summary: Carlos finds a baby someone has left into a dumpster. He takes her to the hospital, but can't stop thinking about her. His life with TK is perfect, they're married and conversations about kids are on the table, and they are registered as possible foster parents, maybe this is their opportunity

Chapter 01

It had been a long day, a double shift, two teenagers who had been found dead from overdoses and a pounding headache that kept her from thinking clearly. All he could think about was getting a change of clothes, losing sight of her uniform for the next two weeks of vacation and enjoying the time he would finally get to spend with her husband.

Since they had gotten married, they hadn't had much time to be alone. They had spent their last vacation preparing for the wedding and honeymoon. But time had passed and they deserved a few days for the two of them.

He looked at his watch, he only had half an hour left to drive the car back to the police station. In no time he would be free.

He hoped that call would be the last of the day, a store that had been robbed. It was an easy thing to do, take a statement from the store owner, check the security cameras and pass on the report.

It was a small supermarket that had been turned upside down.

"I don't know what that guy was after, but he was very nervous." Said the owner, a gentleman who must have been nearing retirement and from his defeated expression, Carlos figured he would soon sell the store finally. "I told him to take what he wanted, because he had a gun and yes, I have been robbed several times, but usually they are guys who are just looking for money. This guy... I didn't get a good look at his face, but there was something in his eyes. Yeah, what I said, he was desperate to get something he didn't tell me. He just walked away, as if he couldn't or wouldn't tell me what he needed."

Carlos took note of everything the man said. He was almost certain they wouldn't find the thief as long as he didn't steal again in the next few days. But the man seemed to stay calm with his work and that put his mind at ease.

"Do you know where the thief went?"

"I didn't want to pay too much attention to him so he wouldn't come back and get mad at me. But I saw him go out into the alley, where I keep the trash cans."

Carlos reassured him that he was going to look, although neither of them had any hope of finding the thief or any clues. He said goodbye and headed for the alley, hoping to finish the shift as soon as possible.

As he had thought, the alley was empty and he certainly had no desire to start opening containers to look for whatever the thief had taken or any clue.

A sudden noise caught his attention. It had to be nothing more than a cat or rat that had gotten caught in a dumpster when the lid had been closed. He was going to let it go because he was tired and didn't want to waste time or have a stray animal jump in his face.

But the noise was repeated and this time he realized it sounded more like a whimper or the soft cry of a newborn.

He stopped where he was to pay attention and check if it repeated itself again. Nothing happened for a moment and as he was about to leave, he heard it again and now he knew where it was coming from.

He heard it to his left, it came from a half-open container and it certainly sounded like a baby's whimper. He pulled out his gun, he had no intention of shooting a human creature or a cat jumping over his shoulder, but he preferred to be forewarned.

He reached over and opened the lid of the container.

#tarlosweeklyprompts #tarlos #911 lone Star #Lone Star #TK strand #Carlos Reyes #baby #Family #Foster parents

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the-firebird69 · 4 months ago

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This guy John remillard is impressed if he starts his car off the line right when it changes green if our son is 2 seconds behind he starts making fun of him saying he won the whole shooting match. And really it's the other way around it's a very very simple trick a lot of people use on him he opens his big mouth and he gets hurt. Right now he's fighting off all sorts of people because he's running around saying that he defeated everybody and he's saying he's got proof and he's saying that it's because her son went to work out or something so trying to figure out his reasoning and it's that they'll be chaos and everything is being attacked and that's what hes saying. But we say is he called everybody and you're tired everybody up and it's very little game for any of them and he's screaming you're the game a secure the f****** idiot yeah we're going to get rid of you cuz you keep saying that happens to anybody near me but you're a huge loser Joe wants... So I started hitting him and he's not going to make it.

--he's a little puke and he's telling himself and people are going up and hitting him and they're doing it now and what a loser so there's some people gunning for him and they hate him and he's clueless and tonight they're going to get him.

--we are tired of the threats and we are issuing real warrants and we are going after him for real using all sorts of things we also found out that he is trying to go through the mail of everyone and they figured it out from the credit card thing all over the world they're going after his s*** heads and they're pretty much figured out they have money and they're going after him and getting the money it's good because his clan is not using it and we really needed this to happen.

Currently about 50 out of The 100 finance centers have cleared 5% of his finance centers people but that is a 5% is 50% of the leadership there five more percent and the leadership defines the finance centuries is actually gone. You don't care if you think it's great John remillard you're a fool no it's good for us in any case just some kind of absolute idiot and that's good it works. He's a Workman all over the place he's not doing any work on his project he doesn't really issue any orders it makes sense and he just walked by with a tool belt and thinks he's important when he was a low life scumbag running around with his tongue out following our son saying everything is great the sun has his own program and for some reason you're some sort of idiot who is mooching off a feeling or the air or something around him is horrible. So going to war with the piece of s*** for being stupid and we're going to take all this stuff everybody else is doing it they're taking it from below and sitting there saying nobody is at it and DJ was doing it too and people are taking it and the idiots finally checked and their women are really mad at them they're saying you're f****** idiots like you said cuz you don't have a system of gathering intelligence and she's sending one up because the guys are dumb.

--. So this guy saying remember we were annoying you from here and the guy got beat up it's in a movie got shot three times one of them was because the people in the store told him to f*** off and he wouldn't so he comes by again and says it he's in disguise he's a jack off okay Jesus characters I swear I got a message why don't we clip them when he's doing that stupid crap people want him to stop they should stop him take his uniforms take his outfits the stashes and tons of people are doing it now it'll start so we're going to publish that will really piss the peevish b**** off

Thor Freya

My money on my husband but really we have to get to work but this is work and people going to do it and those stupid son of a b**** is going to start screaming and yelling and pull his spoiled routine and people hate him and I've never seen someone who's a spoiled Satanist that they usually quite rough and rugged and this guy is a steaming hot women and he's mean I mean it's really awful he's a child and he's going down screaming and yelling and telling everybody everything so his cities are to deteriorating 50% of them are under fierce attack you're saying there's 300 cities but there's only 50 large and five cities are on their way out and it has begun and those people in the cities are going to the stashes and caches and they're finding out there being depleted already from below others have found out which cities that sit on a ship's that they own and that's all of them

Hera

So I get you to run around you being cocky and they find out what it is you're easy to manipulate John remix s*** and what's your problem if you want more okay we're going to take more time from you

Zues

I have a program but we're going to start digging this little a****** for every stupid thing he's doing

Olympus

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georgesmith00x2 · 1 year ago

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arionwind · 2 years ago

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@anankasis replied "shunning is actually pretty bad. your entire family, friend group, and community deciding not to talk to you can ruin lives (and has)

if you can't get a job at the grocery store because you are an ex-felon, that's bad. if you can't get a job at the grocery store because the owner goes to the church that decided to shun you, that's also bad, for the exact same reason."

. . . And thus the application of shunning should trigger the same defendant's rights and processes we apply in criminal trials? I'll admit that when writing that vent post, I intended to use "shunning" as the more colloquial term for "voluntary refusal to associate with a person performed en masse by a social group sharing discrete commonalities" as exemplified by circulating blocklists and typical reactions to callout posts. But this is also a good way to highlight the contrasts that do exist even between the morally cowardly violence of shunning in physical community spaces and state-backed criminal consequences.

Shunning, in all its passive violence, is a community punishment and as such relies on community action to function. If a handful of people in your community are sympathetic enough to offer you aid on the sly, the force of that shunning is severely undermined. Even if your entire community (or near enough as makes no matter) is on board, they can still only ruin you *within that community*.

Leaving is painful. Finding a new job and home in a new town is grueling and miserable. The pain of losing all those past relationships leaves deep scars that may never heal. But if you can manage it, there's no record that follows you to a new community and carries your shunning with it.

State punishments don't grant that mercy. Whatever community you go to, your conviction shows up on a background check. And with the prevalence of chains and franchises, it might not even matter if the local grocery store owner likes you and wants to hire you if there's an overbearing corporate policy forbidding him from hiring felons.

But I'll grant that escaping a full community shunning is obscenely difficult and it would be disingenuous for me to cite that possibility and not allow for the reciprocal possibility that you could make a new life as a convicted felon. Plenty of people do that too. There's also a difference in how easy it is for one asshole with a grudge from your old life to ruin the new one.

Picture it: You're at work and some horrid wretch from your past shows up to try and ruin everything. He tells your boss everything you've done and when said boss takes your side threatens to stick around and tell everyone who comes in about your misdeeds too.

In the case of a shunning, that person is a religious nut that is almost certain to be dismissed by the patrons and could even be removed from the premises by any present or called security. In the case of a felony, that person is a cop or a parole officer. If a minister shows up in uniform decrying the deeds of a cashier, he gets dismissed as a wingnut by strangers. If a cop does that in uniform, people listen and even local law enforcement is not unlikely to take his side.

If he follows you around trying to provoke you into further misdeeds, strangers see the religious dick as a stalker. They see the cop as a defender of the community. And I think that, for me, it is that ease with which a single bad actor can cause ruin that makes all the difference in this specific case.

For shunning to function, you need an entire community to, as one, turn their backs on you and deny your humanity and right to live and exist. I know that there *are* plenty of communities wherein a single voice of testimony can cause that kind of reaction, but none of those communities would be any safer or more pleasant if they applied criminal trial processes and ethics tot heir proceedings. If a small fraction of the community is not sufficiently convinced, the punishment fails.

If at any point in the criminal conviction process - before, during, or after the felony punishment is handed down - a single cop or guard or judge or even just fellow inmate decides to make your life hell (or often end it entirely), they are free to do so and the entire rigid and impersonal system shrugs and moves on. But it doesn't matter how many guards, cops, parole officers, etc. are sympathetic - one person in the right place cruelly applying the rigid system to your case is all it takes.

Because it relies on a community acting in lockstep to function, shunning will only ever be a viable punishment on a small scale. In a large enough social group, there is unfortunately no action so reprehensible that someone cannot find a community of defenders. And any community of that size willing to sanctimoniously both wield and deny wielding such violence against one of its members will not be improved by adding a layer of impersonal systematization to the process. The rot is already deep enough to accept such cruelty as a possible outcome.

The US legal system also presumes that violence is an acceptable outcome. The rights we offer criminal defendants are predicated on that core (indefensible) assumption. "Since we are going to wield violence as a tool of social control, these are the protections we must afford literally everyone to maintain even a bare proximity to legitimacy."

Pointing out the similarities between shunning and a criminal conviction shouldn't be a call to grant the rights of a criminal defendant to someone facing that punishment, but rather a call to abolish the practice entirely. Or, the words of the original post,

"There's plenty of ways to disagree with a callout or a mass reporting campaign [or other community-level consequence, as the case may be] and even to publicly push back at it without calling on abstract principles designed to limit the violent power of the US courts."

Mildly irksome thing that it never fells right to call out when I see it, because it is never not an irrelevant tangent to do so that would undermine the core point of a statement I otherwise agree with, but. Please, for the love of all that is holy, stop citing principles of the US (so-called) Justice System when trying to argue fairness or ethics. So much of it is actively bad for community-level harm-prevention.

Demanding the right to face your accuser is a very easy way for violent abusers to retain access to their victims for long periods. In the US legal system it is actually a very serious problem that victims traumatized by various kinds of abuse aren't able to begin healing until after a trial finishes, often years after the event itself, because of continued re-exposure.

Likewise, the demand for evidence proving guilt "beyond a reasonable doubt" routinely allows truly horrid criminals to continue violating the law because they are smart enough to leave that reasonable doubt behind.

And in a system like the US legal system, those sorts of costs are acceptable and even necessary, because the system itself wields the state monopoly on violence and does so dispassionately and without sympathy.

I'm not going to pretend that community-level consequences aren't harmful, but shunning, banning from a forum, blocking on social media, etc. is not on the scale of felony convictions that land you in prison and bar you from having stable work for the rest of your life.

There's plenty of ways to disagree with a callout or a mass reporting campaign and even to publicly push back at it without calling on abstract principles designed to limit the violent power of the US courts. It's not a valid argument when racists and capitalist apologists do it, and I have to believe that we can all collectively do better.

#this is what I get for firing off a vent post and not meticulously checking my language like I would for a proper essay or debate #a good time drilling deep into specific and tangential concepts within it #maybe I should make this kind of vent post more often

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amatchinwater · 2 years ago

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Pairing: Steddie

Characters: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Nancy Wheeler

Warnings: explicit sexual content, blow jobs, cum swallowing, heavy orgasm delay, mild jealousy, possessive behavior

Words: 1601

Kinktober: Orgasm Delay/Denial

Ao3 link Masterlist

Reposting because Tumblr didn't want to put it in the tags 🙃

---

Let Eddie start by saying he’s not much of a jealous person. He really isn’t. Eddie is more than secure in his relationship with Steve. He doesn’t feel threatened by all the pretty girls that walk by and fawn over him. Or the guys still in the closet casting side glances when they think no one’s watching them. But this shit? Watching Nancy paw all over Steve like she doesn’t have a boyfriend of her own?

Boils Eddie’s blood something fierce.

They were supposed to be watching a movie together tonight, so Eddie is parked outside Family Video waiting for Steve to finish his shift. But through the big ass glass windows, all Eddie can see is his boyfriend’s ex damn near throwing herself at him. He should stay in the car, Eddie knows that. He shouldn’t walk in there and give the girl a piece of his mind. Especially considering that Steve isn’t really feeding into any of her advances or whatever nonsense is coming out of her mouth.

It’s more so the fact that, yes, Steve isn’t reciprocating, he’s just not doing anything to stop it either. Flicking his cigarette onto the pavement, Eddie gets out of the van. Squaring his shoulders, he crushes the bud’s embers with his boot, stalking into the store. The bell over his head dings loudly from yanking the door open and both pairs of eyes shoot to his direction. Nancy’s fills with a clouded disdain, like she’s trying her best to hide it. Steve’s brighten, glistening with adoration.

It puffs Eddie’s chest with pride watching Steve slide away from his ex to lean on the counter towards him instead.

Just a little unfortunate that he’s still a little pissed off and not quite in the mood to play nice. Something dangerously close to possessiveness, a sense of territorial nature courses through him and before Steve can so much as utter a hello, Eddie slams their mouths together. More pride rushes through him at the soft noise his boyfriend makes in the back of his throat when Eddie licks into his mouth. Not caring one bit that Nancy is standing there watching them make out.

Steve’s his.

A well known fact at this point.

Hell, the Slayer shirt underneath Steve’s uniform vest is Eddie’s.

“Get a room,” Nancy grumbles under his breath.

Eddie laughs, a fake sound that’s more of a scoff, not even remotely filled with humor. He pulls away from Steve’s mouth, “I’m sorry,” he scoffs again, glaring at the girl, “do you have a problem with me kissing my boyfriend?”

“Eds,” Steve’s hand curls around his bicep.

“No, no,” he chuckles, softening his gaze for the flickering moment he looks at Steve, “I wanna know.” Eddie turns his attention back to Nancy, her brows pinched in annoyance. “I don’t see a problem with showing my boyfriend affection when I come to pick him up from work for our date night.” Eddie nods his head to the side, “unless, of course, there’s another reason. Like maybe you want him for yourself.”

Nancy’s mouth falls open, sputtering to try and come up with a response.

“Eddie!” Steve scolds his name, “let’s just drop it, okay? I’m sure she didn’t mean-”

“Are you serious? You’re defending her right now?” Eddie snaps, thinking his boyfriend is trying to stop this for his ex-girlfriend’s sake. “I’m not the one flirting with someone else while I have a boyfriend of my own,” his eyes darken and an almost sneer pulls at his lips when he looks back at Nancy, “again.”

“I-I don’t-”

“Yeah, I know all about how you cheated on him with Jonathon, princess,” Eddie interrupts her. “I don’t care how sorry you are that you hurt him or how much you regret leaving him or wish he was yours again. Understand this-” Eddie steps towards her, enjoying the height difference making him seem a little more menacing than usual. “-he’s mine and you will never and I mean ever get the chance to hurt him again. So why don’t you go call Jonathon, I’m sure he’d love to know how many times you just pawed at Steve’s chest and arms.”

“Steve, I-” Nancy’s face reddens, but whatever else she was trying to say neither boy hears due to Steve all but dragging Eddie out of the video store and towards his van.

His back slams against the side door, expecting a lecture Eddie says, “I’m sorr-'' but Steve’s lips crash into his. Fingers curling into his denim vest and leather jacket, silencing his apologies.

“I wasn’t defending her,” Steve huffs his breaths against Eddie’s mouth, “I was defending you. I know how you can get when someone pisses you off too much. I’ve patched up a lot of bloody knuckles from Jason’s bullshit.”

“I’d never lay a hand on her,” Eddie whispers.

“I know,” his boyfriend leans back to look at him, brushing a stray curl out of his face. “But your tongue is just as sharp.”

Eddie snorts, grabbing Steve’s waist to pull them flush together, “I thought you liked my tongue.”

The other boy rolls his eyes at him, chuckling, “shut up,” before kissing him with a smile.

---

It didn’t take long for Eddie to discover that Steve really likes being edged. No matter what way he chooses to do it either. Fuck his boyfriend relentlessly until he just reaches the brink the slows to a leisurely pace or pull out completely? Steve goes nuts for that shit. Suck him off until he becomes a whimpering mess and Eddie can feel him twitch against his tongue then cease all movement? Man, the way his boyfriend squirms is the best thing. Pale, mole speckled flesh flushing a beautiful shade of red.

But there’s one thing Steve forgot.

Just how good Eddie is at doing it. How strong his resolve is. Especially if he’s ticked off and wanting a bit of a punishment or way to relieve his own stress. Needless to say after watching the whole scene with Nancy, Eddie isn’t in the happiest mood right now. And Steve is just too fun to play with.

Handcuffed to his bed, Steve is already turning pink having been brought so close to the edge three times already. Eddie really wants to see his boyfriend tremble a bit first. Needs it even. Some sick part of him wanting to hear Steve beg him for release because he’s the only one who can get him like this. Such a strong man broken down to babbled pleas and teary eyes.

“Eds,” his boyfriend huffs, trying to take a proper breath, “please. Babe, please,” Steve’s hairy chest heaves, wrists tugging against the cuffs.

“Please what, sweet thing?” Eddie teases, hand lazily pumping his boyfriend’s cock. Brown eyes flickering over Steve’s face where he’s still curled beside him. He’ll give him the pleasure of his mouth. In a minute.

Steve comes dangerously close to a growled out whine, body jerking on the bed. His own brown eyes snap to him, “I want to cum, please, Eds.”

“Aww,” he coos, leaning in to slot their mouths together, moving his hand faster. Groaning into the kiss, Eddie simply adores the way his boyfriend whimpers around his tongue, little breaths catching in his throat. “Not yet,” he whispers against Steve’s mouth, ceasing all movement and moving away for good measure.

“Eddie,” Steve whines, eyes getting a little bloodshot.

Oh, he’s so close to that beautiful mess.

Taking just a touch of pity on his boyfriend, Eddie crawls down the bed, spreading Steve’s legs to tease his tongue at his neglected hole. Steve yelps his moan at the action, so incredibly sensitive. Eddie chuckles, licking a long stripe up his balls and to his leaking cock. One more. Just one more and Steve will be right where Eddie wants him. He knows what to say if it’s too much. But fuck if his eyes aren’t communicating the most perfect green.

So Eddie takes him all the way to the back of his throat, moaning around the tip. Steve is gasping for air, barely any sounds to his moans. Eddie hollows his cheeks, sucking hard and fast, fondling Steve’s balls. He feels them tighten in his grasp, his boyfriend’s inhales getting shorter and shorter.

Then Eddie stops, taking his mouth off completely.

Steve cries out angrily. Wet, glazed, brown eyes boring into him, “Eddie, please. Please, I just want to cum. Please, I can’t-” Steve pants, “I can’t, please. Please, Eds, please.”

“Such a sweet thing,” Eddie praises, kissing his boyfriend’s shaking thigh, “asking so nicely. Okay, baby,” he licks the same path as before, chuckling at the shiver he gets for it, “cum for me.” Eddie doesn’t hold back. Doubling his efforts, he deep throats Steve with a purpose, making sure all of his drool drips down to his balls.

It doesn’t take much before Steve’s throat cracks on his moan, his cum filling Eddie’s eager mouth. Fuck, does he love that taste. He never lets a single drop go to waste, swallowing and continuing to suck Steve’s cock until it’s clean. A pleased hum ripples Eddie’s chest when he pulls off with a pop and his boyfriend jolts. Eyes so heavily lidded, he’s not sure they’re even actually open with wet, flushed cheeks.

Beautiful.

Eddie climbs over his boyfriend, bumping their noses together and Steve hums around a grin. “My pretty boy,” he says, pecking Steve’s nose.

Steve laughs, “yeah, yeah, yours. I’m yours, Eds,” he lifts his head to press their mouths together, wrapping his legs around Eddie to keep them close.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #stranger things 4 #kinktober vol. 2 #Match Writes

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dreamifics · 3 years ago

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Love and Monsters

Steve Harrington x Reader!Henderson

Oneshot

Y/N Henderson's life was not like any other normal teenager's life, on a very young age her only friends was her brother, Dustin and his friends.. She was not popular in highschool, but she was not a nobody neither.. Y/N was just invisible, lost in the sea of students.. She was almost through highschool though, one day her life was turned upside down, literally and figuratively.. It's been months since the 'thing' happend, but she was still shaken up.

Y/N was laying in bed, My Generation blasting from her stereo.. She was home alone, her mother was out with some friends, her brother was hanging out with 'King Steve'.. Ever since Steve helped them about Dart, she grew closer to Steve but their short lived friendship ended when Dustin left for camp and Steve worked on their family business while she was stuck preparing herself for college.. Y/N misses Steve, his unfunny jokes and oh god--his laugh..

A loud knock startled her, she shot up from her bed, memories of what happend was flashing back to her.. Despite what she tells her friend, she was not okay.. She almost died twice and that opened up trauma's and issues within herself..

Another loud knock startled her, Y/N shakes her head and just ran to the door.. Reaching their front door, her icy hands made contact with the cold steel knob..

It revealed a disheveled Dustin and Steve, she could tell that there were excitement dripping all over them.. Steve was still wearing his sailor work uniform, he looked cute to Y/N but she once threw that thought in the back of her mind..

"What's up?" She questioned the two.

Dustin just smiled and pushed pass her, while Steve was reluctant to go in.. Steve avoided Y/N for almost the whole summer because of the daunting realization that he was catching feelings for her and that scared him.. Y/N was the kind of girl that likes to watch nerdy movies, spend hours playing games with a bunch of kids and save the world two times.. However, Steve was scared, he was still stuck in the unjustified rules of highschool and popularity. . He still wanted to be 'King Steve', but he also wanted to be Y/N's..

"Nice outfit, sailor boy.." Y/N winked and laughs at Steve, he just shakes his head and went inside their house..

Steve made his way to Dustin's room with Y/N right behind him, but before reaching Dustin's room, he passed Y/N's room.. He unconsciously stopped as he looks around, observing every corner of her room.

There were posters plastered all over her walls, books were all around her room in her bed, shelves and even floors.. In the other side she had a small collection of music that made Steve smile.. Because they had the exact same taste, she is the perfect girl.

"If you want to go in, you're free to wander around my room, anytime.."

Steve turned around to face Y/N, he misses her.. How Y/N sarcastic remarks leave her sweet lips or how she rolls her eyes whenever she see something stupid.

"I might just take you up on that.."

"Hm-mm.. You didn't even talk to me when Dustin left, you broke my heart, Steviee.." She jokes, but it sounded a little bitter.

Y/N did get hurt, Steve stopped talking to her when Dustin left, it seems like Steve didn't really like her as much as she thinks he did. Y/N was bored and got stuck just studying and sometimes hanging out with the party.. It was fun but she was looking forward to hanging out with Steve.

"I'm sorry about that, I didn't want to see my old friends hanging out with someone like yo---" Steve stopped his sentence, he didn't mean that.. His mind was a mess, he said those things because he didn't want Y/N finding out his stupid feelings

"Right..Yeah, I get it.."

"Y/N that's not what I me--"

"Cause King Steve shouldn't be hanging out with people like me?Gotcha.."

Steve didn't even had the time to reply, he was met with Y/N's slamming door.. He didn't mean that.. Steve loved hanging out with Y/N, he want to give her something special.. Steve wanted something more from Y/N.. He knew exactly what and he didn't need a reason why but Steve wanted to give Y/N something more..

Y/N was hurt, she didn't know why but Steve words brought devastation to her.. She felt disappointed and upset, Y/N was expecting something special.. She didn't know what or why but she was expecting something more from Steve.

Y/N was dropping off Dustin to the mall where Steve was working, her lips were in a unsual frown.. Y/N wasn't usally like this, she was having a bad week, Steve just hurt her feelings and she was taking it much harder, it was very unsual.. The two Henderson was making their way to the Scoops Ahoy shop, Dustin was rambling about a message he picked up while contacting his girlfriend.

"Are you listening?" Her brother asked as they reach the store.

"Yepp, you should go in now.."

"Y/N, this could be a good thing!"

"I know..If you need my help, you can find me in the food court.."

"Y/N.."

"Yeah, Dus?"

"Are you okay?"

Y/N's mind went blank, she hated lying to her brother but she didn't want to worry anyone. She laughs and messed Dustin's hair.

"Of course.. Now go, you know where to find me.." With that she left..

Y/N was not okay, the last time she slept was a month ago.. Nightmares kept crawling back to her, she was growing more paranoid by the day.. She was not okay, but she couldn't tell anyone that.. Everyone else is okay, even Wil who had it more rough than her. And to top that up, she was broken hearted by Steve's rejection of their friendship.. Y/N just massaged the bridge of her nose, when will she be fine?

Dustin and Steve was in the corner of the mall with binoculars in their eyes, Steve saw Y/N.. Sitting alone in the corner, a walkman in her ears and a book in hand.. Y/N was mouthing the word as her eyes read every word on that book and Steve couldn't help but feel all giddy and guilty inside.

"You see anything?" Dustin snapped Steve back to their current task.

"Uh, I guess I don't totally know what I'm looking for.'' Steve answered honestly, Y/N distracted him again.

"Evil Russians."

"Yeah, exactly. I don't know what an evil Russian looks like."

"All blond, not smiling."

"Mm-hmm?" Steve's eyes didn't looked for any Russians, his eyes drifted to Y/N spot but she was gone.. Where did she go? He couldn't help but worry, was she talking to someone else?

"Also, look for earpieces, camo, duffel bags, that sort of thing." Dustin added.

"Right, okay, duffel bags." Steve darts his eyes away from Y/N seat but it only fell on a girl he asked out earlier.

"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me." Steve mutters.

"What?" Dustin questioned.

"Anna Jacobi's talking with that meathead Mark Lewinsky."

"If you're not gonna focus, just gimme the binoculars."

Dustin got annoyed by his distracted partner, he should have brought his sister along.. But he knew that Y/N was not okay, she seemed distant and lost in her own mind.. Always spacing out and Dustin can hear her cries from his room, it killed him to see her loving and hyper sister transform into a walking corpse.

"Aw, Jesus Christ, whatever happened to standards?"

"I mean, Lewinsky never even came off the bench." Steve rambled on, annoying Dustin.

"Dude, you are the worst spy in history, you know that?"

The two fought for the binoculars, but they just looked stupid.. Dustin initially gave up and gave the binoculars to Steve.

"I don't get why you're looking at girls. You have the perfect one in front of you."

"Seriously, if you say Robin again..." Steve closes his eyes waiting for Robin's name to come up but it never did.

"No, Y/N.. My sister.."

Steve's heart clenched at the mention of her name, he wants Y/N too.. What can he do? Y/N hates his ass now, he was a jerk and he didn't deserve Y/N.

"No, man, she's not my type." Steve answered while he diverts his eyes away from Dustin.

"I saw you staring at her closed door for about 5 minutes."

Steve eyes grew wide at the realization that Dustin was watching the whole time.. Dustin just shakes his head, if he was asked he'd say that her sister felt the same way..

"She's not even... in the ballpark of what my type is, all right?"

"What's your type again? Not awesome?"

"Thank you."

"Hm."

"For you information, your sister is too sarcastic, she's too nerdy for me.."

"Also, she's too...boyish.."

Beautiful, that's what he wanted to say..

"Dude, that's my sister you're talking about, and besides she's not like that.. She's nerdy but so what? Y/N's also not boyish, she's just secured with her masculinity.."

Dustin's word echoed throughout Steve's system, he already knew that.. But somehow hearing it from another person's perspective made him like you more.

"Y/N's just not my type.." He lied..

Y/N was everything he ever wanted in a girl.

"Thanks for the clarification, Harrington." A voice surprised the two.

Y/N was standing behind them, her arms crossed.. Steve's eyes widen in surprise, did she hear everything? He didn't mean that, what did he mean?

"I didn't mean t--"

"Dustin, if you told me you'll stalk people in malls, I should've brought you to a psychiatrist.." Y/N ignored Steve and just focused on her brother.. Y/N would be lying if she haven't felt more hurt by the words Steve dropped.. She had been listening since the talk about girls came up, Y/N spotted the two doing eccentric things and she decided to eavesdrop.

"No, it's called spying.." Dustin rolled his eyes at her sister remarks while Steve was still frozen..

"What's the difference?" Y/N asked, her eyes still focused on he brother..

"It's just different, okay? Were looking for the--" Dustin stopped and looks around to see if anybody was near..

"Russians?" Y/N continued in a loud tone.

"Shh!" Both Steve and her brother shushed her. Y/N was surpised, she glares at the two and moved closer to them.

"Fine, can I tag along? I'm bored and it'll be nice to be a national hero."

The two looked at each other, Steve was nervous.. Y/N obviously didn't want him around, but this could be a chance for him to apologize to Y/N.

"Sure, you can help us look for russians with dufflebags and camo." Dustin pulled her sister to his side.

"That's kinda racis--"

"No, it's not!" Dustin cuts her sister off making Y/N laugh..

"Whatever you say Dus.."

And that's how she ended up inside a theater with two kids and two drugged teenagere.. Y/N's breathing was heavy, they were captured by Russians just moments ago.. Adrenaline was pumping through her veins, she thought this town was finally normal again, but turns out she was wrong.. Very very wrong..

They needed to get out of this hellish mall, Y/N need to find out if there's still russians lurking out, looking for them.

"The two of you need to stay here and take care of them." Y/N instructs to her brother, she pointed at a floopy Steve and Robin.

"Wait--Where are you going?!" Dustin stopped her by pulling her arm.

"I'm going to see if those fuckers are still looking for us.."

"No, we'll come with you.."

"Dustin, you need to stay here and keep a low profile.."

"Y/N don't be a hero.."

"Hey, Dipshit!I'm not trying to be a hero, what I'm doing is protecting you guys because our two friends are drugged and beaten while we brought a little kid into our mess!And I will do everything to keep you all safe, even if that means I get hurt or killed!"

Dustin knew that there's no talking Y/N out of this, her sister was right.. Taking a deep breath, he just nods and hugs her sister..

"Just please, stay safe.." Dustin was in the verge of tears but Y/N held him tight in her arms.. Dustin pulled back, Y/N gave her brother a comforting smile, she rubbed his cheeks and pat his head.

"I'll be okay, I'm a Henderson for god's sake.."

Dustin laughs as tears stroll in his face, she kissed his forehead and walked away, trying not to attract attention.. Taking a deep breath she left the theater, she'll do whatever it takes to keep her brother and her friends.. Y/N's mind flew to Steve, she was pissed off but she was not sure anymore.. The way he saved them and got beat up for them, she couldn't find a reason to be mad at him, all she can think about is his childlish look and how hot he is in his sailor uniform. Y/N just shakes those thoughts away and tried to focus on her task..

Russians..

Steve and Robin were throwing up in a seperate cubicles, they were getting the drugs out of their system.. Retching and puking can be heard all through out the theater bathroom, Steve groans and flushes the toilet.

"The ceiling stopped spinning for me. Is it still spinning for you?" Robin's voice can be heard from the other cubicle.

"Holy shit. No. You think we puked it all up?" Steve rested his back to the mini wall inside the cubicle..

"Maybe. Ask me something.."

"Interrogate me." Robin said in a mocking russian accent.

"Okay. Interrogate you. Sure. Um... When was the last time you, uh, peed your pants?"

"Today."

"What?"

"When the Russian doctor took out the bone saw."

"Oh... All right, my turn."

"Okay. Hit me."

"Have you... ever been in love?"

"Yep. Nancy Wheeler. First semester, senior year." Steve imitates a gunshot.

"Are you still in love with Nancy?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I found someone else, she's a little bit better for me.It's crazy. Ever since Dustin got home, he's been saying, 'You know, you gotta find your Suzie. You gotta find your Suzie.' "

"Wait, who's Suzie?"

"It's some girl from camp, I guess his girlfriend. To be honest with you, I'm not 100% sure she's even real."

" But that's not- that's not really the point. That doesn't matter. The point is, this girl, you know, the one that I like, it's somebody that I... didn't even talk to in school. And I don't even know why."

"Maybe 'cause Tommy H. would've made fun of me or... I wouldn't be... prom king. It's stupid. I mean, Dustin's right, it's all just a bunch of bullshit anyways. Because, when I think about it, I should've been hanging out with this girl the whole time."

"First of all, she hates me now because of a stupid thing I said but when we hanged out, we were bonding and shit.. She was perfect for me, she's nerdy, hangs out with kids too much.. She likes the same things I like, her brother is my bestfriend.. Sometimes I wonder if she's real, because she's too perfect."

"Wait--You like Y/N?"

"Yeah, ever since last year.. I like her so damn much, I can't even believe that I said to her that I shouldn't be hanging out with someone like her."

"YOU SAID THAT?" Robin's voice boomed out all over the bathroom, Steve just sighs and slids out of the cubicle..

"Unfortunately, yes.."

Steve slid in to Robins cubicle, she was glaring at him.

"If you ask me, Y/N doesn't deserve someone like me.. She--She's too nice to be caught up in my miserable life.. And besides she would never like me.."

"I think you're still high.."

"No, I'm not.."

"Do you remember what I said about Click's class? About me being jealous and, like, obsessed?"

"Yeah?"

"It isn't because I had a crush on you. It's because... she wouldn't stop staring at you.."

"Mrs. Click?" Robin chuckles and just shakes her head.

"Y/N Henderson, I wanted her to look at me. But... she couldn't pull her eyes away from you and your stupid hair. And I didn't understand, because you would get bagel crumbs all over the floor. And you asked dumb questions. And you were a douchebag. And- And you didn't even like her then and... I would go home... and just scream into my pillow."

"But Y/N's a girl.."

"Steve.."

"Oh.."

"Yeah, now listen..Don't give me the 'she doesn't deserve me' and 'she doesn't like me back' crap.. Y/N was inlove with you since highschool, now you will tell her all about your mushy mushy feelings and you'll two will get married, have kids and you'll have me to thank for. "

"But what about you?"

"Please, I moved on.."

"Really?"

"Hell yeah, with my pretty face?I could find someone in a jiffy!"

The two were laughing when Dustin and Ericka burst into the bathroom.. Annoyance and frustration written all over their face..

"Okay.What the hell?!" Dustin asked very annoyed.

"Dude, we're normal again.."

"That's not the problem now, we need to find Y/N and go with the rest of the party."

"Y/N's not with you?"

"Do you see her?" Erica asked with the normal sass in her voice. Robin rolls her eyes at Erica who just glares at her.

"Where did she go?" Steve ignored Erica's sarcastic question

"She said she'll check the perimeter, but she hasn't come back since." Dustin answered, she was worried for her sister.. In their situation, who wouldn't?

"Shit." Steve and Robin both utter at the same time.

Y/N was changed into a much more inauspicious clothes, it was just some pants and a shirt tucked into it.. She fixed her disheveled hair and wiped her sweat.. She needed to blend in, her eyes wander around the mall.. There were Russians walking around, bviously looking for someone and that someone was them.. All the exits are heavily guarded by guards, there's no way out..

Taking a deep breath she walked back to the theater, praying that her brother and friends was safely still there but before she could even reached the theater, a russian man spotted her..

"I got eyes on one of the target!" The russian said into his earpiece, making Y/N run to the higher level of the mall, her heart racing and she was starting to feel tired.

Y/N just ran until she lost the russian, her breathing was getting shorter by the second.. Y/N's leg was starting to hurt but she ignored it and looked down to see if she can spot her brother..

And there they are, getting chased by guards.. Worries pumped into her brain as they run.. She needed to help them, if not they could get killed.

"Hey stupid spies!I'm right up here, morons!" Y/N screamed at the top of her lungs as she waves her hands around..

Steve and Dustin was horrified as they hide into the counters, Y/N was risking her life for theirs..

The guards that was chasing them made eye contact and targeted Y/N but before they could do anything a car honk.. The russians looked at each other, confused and dazed.. Eleven can be seen controlling the car, she throws it at the bad men and all they could hear were groans..

Y/N felt a surge of relief, she made her way to her brother.. Dustin, Robin, Erica and Steve pop out from behind the counter, steam hissing.. Y/N saw her brother and they all rushed up to hug her..

A tight hug welcomed Y/N, but this hug wasn't just from Dustin.. It was also from Robin, Erica and Steve.. Suddenly they all look up to see the rest of the party.. The hug was cut off by Dustin running to hug Mike and Eleven.

"Lucas?" Erica saw her brother and it made Lucas confuse..

"What are you doing here?"

Y/N who was just taking in deep breaths smiled to herself.. They were safe, but she knew this was not over.. Steve stayed in Y/N side, Robin's word replayed in his mind.. This is his chance to say his undying love to Y/N.

"Y/N?"

"Hmm?" Y/N saw Steve besides her, she was growing tired but Y/N needed to keep thriving for everyone.. Y/N saw that Steve was hesitant, he was nervous and it made her felt nervous too.

"I--I uhh.." Steve mumbles, his tongue was backing out.. Y/N had such a powerful effect on him, to the way she says his name, and everytime Y/N calls him, his heart skips a beat.. It sounds corny, but it was true..

"What?Do you need a speak and spell?" Y/N joked, it didn't help a struggling Steve.. He started to grew more anxious, he needed to get this off his chest.. This could be the last time they all see each other alive, there's no telling what could happen to them.

Y/N was just staring at him

"I have something to confess---"

Steve was cut off by El who was in pain and grunting in the floor.. They all ran to her aid and helped her with the pain she was going through.. Steve slightly curses at himself, maybe this was not a great time for a love confession.. He needed to focus on surviving this hellish adventure.. Again

It finally ended.. Y/N was relieved, it was over.. They were safe, Y/N and Dustin were sitting in the back of an ambulance, a blanket around them as they hug each other..

"If this shit happens again, we're moving.." Y/N jokes.. Dustin chuckled, maybe they should.. However, the adventures were growing more fun and dangerous..

"Nah, we love being heroes.."

Y/N laughs as she held her brother tighter, she fixed his hair and wipe some dirt off his face.. Even if he's old now, he'll always be Y/N's baby brother.. She smiled at the memory of Suzie and Dustin singing in the middle of mayhem and chaos.

"Stooop, I'm all grown up now!" He stood up and made his way to his friends..

"Don't get too far, lover boy!" Y/N shouted causing Dustin's cheek to blush..

Y/N sighs at the sight of her brother walking away from her, this is the last time she'll save the world, she was tired of monsters.. Y/N was just enjoying the cold air of the night when someone cleared their throat.

"Hello to you Harrington.." Y/N smiled at Steve, he was just standing infront of her.. Y/N can't help but feel giddy when Steve's in his sailor outfit.. It saddens her that Steve was still stuck in his highschool mindset..

"I have something to tell you.." Steve mumbles incoherently, but Y/N understood it.. Steve was always nervous when Y/N's around, he remember the first time he saw Y/N..

Steve saw Dustin on the street asking for help, and he didn't believe at him first but he was soon convinced by how Dustin was nervous and scared.. They pulled up at the Henderson's residence, that's where he first saw--no that's not the right word..

That's where he first acknowledged Y/N..

She was sitting on the porch steps on her pajama's, there were dirt on her face and her hairs a mess.. Y/N's face lighten up when he saw Dustin getting out of the car..

"Hey Dus------What is he doing here?" Y/N's face dropped when he saw Steve also getting out of the car.

"He's our back up.." Her brother answered short and continue walking into the entrance of the basement.

"I'm back up..'' Steve said cocky at Y/N, she just scoffs and followed Dustin..

"For a guy with a black eye, you're awfully confident.."

"That's what seeing a pretty girl like you does to me.." Steve didn't know what he ate that time but he had this whole new confidence when he started talking to Y/N.. However, Y/N didn't seem impressed to his corny jokes and pick up lines, she was always scoffing and rolling her eyes..

"Yeah, you said that too when we were inside..That" Y/N's voice pulled him back to the present.. Y/N gestured at the burning mall infront of them.

"Yeah.." Steve cleared his throat, he opens his mouth, but the words won't come out he's chokin', how, everybody's jokin' now, the clocks run out, times up, over, blaow .

"Are you gonna say something?" Y/N was starting to get nervous, did she do something to make Steve act strange? He was shaking, the sweat on his forehead is flowing like the Niagara Falls.. That's not attractive yet for some reason she found it hot..

"Oh--Yeah--Uhh.." He failed to say words again, why can't he just go straight to the point?

Robin who was with the rest of the party was staring at a stuttering and nervous Steve.. The rest started to notice even Jonathan and Nancy who was in each others arms..

"When is he gonna tell my sister that he likes her?" Dustin ponder as he stares at the two..

"I don't know, he's taking forever just uttering one sentence.." Lucas pitched in making the others laugh..

"I thought Steve was a suave and cool guy?" Mike jokes causing some of them to laugh, some was just quiet.. They were still having a hard time grasping all of this, especially Max..

"He's a nerd just like you guys.." Nancy answered, they all shake their heads as they watch Steve nervously fidgets..

"Alright, I finally had enough.." Robin whispers, the party turned to Robin, carefulky watching to what she had under her sleeves..

"HEY Y/N!" Robin shouts..

Y/N broke her gaze with Steve and brought it to a shouting Robin, not far from them.. Steve just froze to his place, panic started blaring out through his mind..

"WHAT STEVE'S TRYING TO SAY IS HE FREAKING LIKES YOU!" Robin shouted, and it all made them freeze.. Y/N blinked rapidly, did she hear that right? Steve l-likes her? What? When? How? Where?

Steve felt embarrased, he wanted the crawl in a hole and die.. Robin was dead to him, how could she do that? Now Y/N's gonna start to avoid him, she obviously doesn't like her back.

"I-Is that true?" Y/N finally asked the question she was dying to ask, she never really thought about Steve that way.. Fine, she's not gonna lie, there were some thoughts about Steve that kept her up at night..

"I can explain--If you don't feel the same it's totally fi----" Steve panicked and randomly said any excuses he can think off, not giving Y/N a chance to speak..

Y/N rolled her eyes at how Steve was rambling on, she smiled and stands up.. Pulling Steve sailor outfit, she kissed him..

Steve pressed his lips harder on Y/N, he wanted this kiss to happen since he first saw her.. And now it's happening, Y/N puts her arm around Steve's neck.. This was her first kiss and she was glad that it was to Steve.. They both kissed as the burning Star Court crumbles infront of them. Y/N didn't knew that you can find love and monsters in this terrifying situation..

Dustin groaned at the sight of her sister and bestfriend kissing, he wanted to vomit and scoop his eyes out.. This was not a sight for sore eyes..

"Ugh!I don't want to watch my sister exchange salivas with Harrington!" Dustin sigh under his breath

"Get used to it, you'll be seeing a lot of him.." Robin teased making Dustin die inside.

"Dammit!"

Y/N was just thinking that some people lost someone special, Eleven lost Hopper.. Max lost Billy and the rest will wake up in the morning with terrible memories haunting them everyday, they can no longer feel the assurance that they're safe in the quiet town they grew up to. They knew everything that lies withing the depths of this ground, all the horrible things that Hawkin Labs brought.. Chief Hopper and Billy Hargrove died for them, they were heroes.. And the sad part is, no one will ever know.. Those who deserves to be recognized is no longer here, the heroine act they did save the world yet the world doesn't even know about them.. But Y/N and the rest knows that the sacrifices they made won't go to waste, they'll do everything in their power to keep whatever haunts this eerie town at bay.

I found this highly nice but cringey at the same time so bear with it, I also wanted to update my series about James Potter but I just can't seem to end it ughhhhh..Anyways, I hope you guys like this one..

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snackhobi · 4 years ago

Text

pairing: jungkook x reader / word count: 13.4k / genre: fluff + comedy (I suppose)

summary: you work the night shift in a supermarket. and now your crush, aka the cutest boy in the world, aka the guy you’ve been thirsting after for months, aka jeon jungkook, works the night shift too. les geddit

warnings: this fic is sfw BUT there is cursing/explicit language—the reader is thirsty af, just SO thirsty, seriously the thirstiest, but other than that this fic is pretty soft

a/n: thank you to my darling friend and beta reader @hobi-gif, without whom this would have remained an unpublished fic I just wrote for funsies, and also to @yeojaa for reading this through and enjoying this terrible self indulgence of mine, you’re both queens

Why is it that all the interesting things happen whenever you’re not at work? Like the time you'd been off for one (1) night so that you could move into your new place, so you hadn't witnessed the full on brawl between a customer and the security guard right before the store shut. Or the other time when you were twenty minutes late because of road closures and you’d missed all the free doughnuts—Yoongi hadn’t even saved you one, opting to give it to his crush instead, even though Jimin wasn’t even night shift.

(Yoongi was a Judas, betraying you all because of a little thirst. Snake.)

(Okay, sure, you're friends with Jimin too, but still.)

Anyway. You’re here almost all weeks of the year, and the few times you’re not, that’s when things get interesting. Working in any sort of retail job is boring at best, especially when the store is shut overnight (customers during the day were awful but at least they provided an ever rotating cast of varying characters that could provide amusing anecdotes to add to your repertoire), and it’s downright frustrating whenever you miss out on the few variations to your usually monotonous nights just because you happened to miss it.

Yoongi is also The Worst at keeping you updated. He has little to no interest in gossip and keeps himself firmly out of unnecessary interpersonal drama, staying uninvolved by being entirely unapproachable and blanking people whenever they try to talk to him. You keep out of it too, but in a different way— you don’t get involved in drama because everyone likes you. You’re personable and social, almost to a clownish degree, somehow treading the line between being Nice and Firm, so people simultaneously like you while also being wary of annoying you.

Either way. When you’re not there, Yoongi doesn’t go out of his way to find out any developments, so you’re always left floundering to catch up with whatever’s gone on so that you can keep your position as Liked-By-All-Sides as secure.

So, with all of this in mind, when he says that nothing interesting has happened in the two weeks since you’ve been off, you’re understandably sceptical, raising an eyebrow at him from where you’re reclining in his passenger seat. The entire supermarket could have burned down while he’d been working and Yoongi would probably say of the event afterwards—if pressed—that it had ‘been a little hotter than usual’.

(At least Jimin indulges you with petty gossip. You’re certain he’d let you know about any new developments, but he’s not on a late shift tonight, much to the disappointment of both yourself and Yoongi—although he won't admit it.)

You hadn’t sensed any ripples in the Force when you’d stepped into the supermarket. Everything looked the same, all the way down to the slightly wonky sign on the front display that was trying to persuade customers to buy the new lines of overpriced olives and antipasti, and nothing felt any different on your journey up to the locker rooms; the poster asking everyone to book their holiday before the 26th June 2001 was still up, as it should be; the sight of Yoongi walking in the direction of the staff canteen as you went to dump your stuff in your locker was as familiar as normal. You were usually good at sniffing out change, but everything had passed your smell check and so you let your guard down, bursting into the break room with your usual aplomb.

That’s one thing about night shift that people don’t usually realise. Because there aren’t customers around, you can yell up and down the shop floor as much as you like (it’s usually faster than walking around to find someone) and swear or be inappropriate in ways that wouldn’t fly during the day (like bowling products across the floor instead of walking up to the shelf and putting them down). You don’t swear or yell, really, but the amount of time you’ve spent on nights has increased your overall volume and altered your verbal filter, so once you’ve kicked the door open, what comes out of your mouth is as follows:

“Wassup everyone? Ya girl is back from her time off and is absolutely RARING to go! I know you all missed me, but please, no flash photography,” you simper. You hear Yoongi snort into his coffee from his seat on the sofa, directly under the sign that says ‘No Food Or Drink Allowed On The Sofas’ alongside a picture of a dancing hot dog with a massive red X across it.

Most of your coworkers are a lot older than you—young people don’t tend to work overnight—so they don’t match your level of energy, but they’re still pleased to see you nonetheless, a little chorus of hellos greeting you when you walk into the room. You shoot finger guns at them, ending with an overly theatrical wink at Taehyung, wiggling your fingers in a wave at the boy as he grins at you through his mouthful of food (he’s not night shift but he finishes a lot of his shifts late so you're on friendly terms).

When you flop down next to Yoongi he wordlessly hands you a coffee. You hiss a little at the contact of the hot mug against your skin—he’s holding onto the handle, and you’re quick to accept it from him so you don’t burn yourself—and peer down at the hot liquid before taking a small drink.

You’re mid-sip when your eyes flick up from the mug and you immediately splutter. You cough and hack, eyes filling with tears as you try to swallow the noises down to no avail; you sound distressed enough that even Yoongi gets concerned, thumping you on the back as you make a noise akin to a cat wheezing out a hairball.

“Yoongi.” Your voice is pained as you look out of the corner of your eye at the boy sitting next to you. “I thought you said nothing interesting had happened while I was off?”

Yoongi looks perplexed. “Nothing did,” he says. Somehow you resist the overwhelming urge to pour your coffee all over him.

“Then explain to me exactly why the Muscle Boy from morning shift who works on fruit and veg is sat over there in a night shift uniform,” you hiss.

“Oh, yeah.” Yoongi sounds entirely disinterested. “He moved on to nights the first week you were off.”

So not only has the hitherto-unreachable object of your affections moved on to your shift—great, you weren't mentally prepared for that at all—he'd apparently witnessed your unnecessarily theatrical entrance, as well as your subsequent near death experience via coffee. You wish that the near death experience had, in fact, been a full death experience; your final moments may have been undignified but at least you’d have gone out while looking at a pretty face and not have to live with the embarrassment afterwards, knowing that Jeon Jungkook had witnessed you spluttering coffee down your chin.

Normally your Jungkook-radar (Kookiedar? You’ll have to work on the name for it) is faultless, flawless, sensitive to his exact location at all times—but he was never there at night. You only saw him in the mornings, catching glimpses of him on your way out, lifting heavy crates of bananas or potatoes onto the displays. But he’s here, now, sat on his own table, alone, away from the other workers.

While you hadn’t spotted him before, what with how he’s sequestered himself alone, from your vantage point now? You can clearly see him, and you know that he would have had full view of you from the moment you’d stepped into the room.

He's on night shift now. With you.

“Yoongi, buddy?”

“Yeah?”

“If I asked you to kill me, would you do it?”

“No." His answer is immediate, but before you can be warmed by the fact he doesn’t wish for your imminent death, he continues: “I’d have to find someone else to reduce food for me, and I can’t go back to buying full priced noodles after this long.”

“I’ll reduce your head from your body,” you threaten, even though it makes no sense. Yoongi doesn’t react outwardly to this threat but you would wager anything that he was quivering in his boots, even though he’s doing a very good job of calmly sipping at his coffee. Ahh, Yoongi, always the master of the pokerface, despite the fact he must be terrified.

Anyway. You’re getting distracted. Basically, snake Yoongi had snaked on you and hadn’t told you about Jungkook transferring to night shift, like the snake he was. Yoongi being the snake, that is, not Jungkook. He wasn’t a snake. Sure, you’d never spoken to him in all the months you’d seen him and knew next to nothing about him but no one could be a snake when they looked that innocent. Besides, you’d seen him help customers, smiling at the old ladies who asked for him to reach for specific bits of fruit from higher shelves, or carrying their shopping for them, or—

Argh, you were getting distracted again. Essentially he was a hot, muscular angel who hadn’t had your existence on his own radar until approximately five minutes ago, and his first impression of you must be that you are an absolute clown. A buffoon. And, okay, maybe you are, but you usually only let people onto that fact after knowing them for at least a day or two.

He’d looked startled when you’d made eye contact with him across the canteen, tearing his eyes away from you the second you’d tried to inhale coffee instead of ingesting it. You’re grateful that he’s resolutely kept his gaze away, absorbed by something on his phone instead, but he must have heard your desperate wheezing from across the room. Even if you’ve managed to cough away the coffee in your lungs by now it doesn’t detract from the overall embarrassment that threatens to swallow you up.

Beside you, Yoongi continues to drink his coffee like a normal human being. He’s oblivious to your inner turmoil. Of course your crush had moved to night shift when you were on holiday. Of course you’d missed that. Why wouldn’t you? You were a snail and God was salting you. What had you done to deserve such torment?

“I can’t believe you didn’t think a new person was something I’d at least like to be made aware of,” you mutter waspishly. “Especially as he’s around our age! Since Hobi left we haven’t had anyone on shift who isn’t at least a decade older than us, Yoons.”

As is tradition, Yoongi says: “A moment of silence for our boy Hobi.” You both shut your eyes and tilt your heads forward as you mourn your fallen brother. (He wasn’t dead, he’d just moved to a different job a few months ago, although you both still see him on a weekly basis.) And then Yoongi continues: “I guess I didn’t think it was important.”

“Do you have a single wrinkle on your brain, Yoongi? Huh? Or is it completely smooth up there? Why wouldn’t a new night shift worker be something I’d want to know about?”

“I figured you’d find out eventually anyway.” Yoongi shrugs.

“I hope a stack of bread falls on you,” you say.

You’re glad when it hits 9pm and your manager, Sejin, gets everyone’s attention for the huddle so he can tell everyone where they’re working for the night. You normally don’t pay much attention but this time you’re like a bloodhound on a scent trail, sniffing out what where Jungkook is going to be.

“Jungkook, you’re on the fruit and veg section,” your manager says, and your nostrils flare. Of course. You’re entirely unsurprised when he delegates Jungkook to the fruit and vegetable aisles— it’s what the boy is familiar with, after all.

Most people in the store have areas they’re better at and do the same thing over and over, but you’re a bit of a wildcard, happy to work anywhere, so your own role varies a bit. You’d actually been there longer than Sejin, who’s a fairly new manager; he’d latched desperately onto you when he realised that you a) had been trained on pretty much everything and b) were also a pretty decent worker, on the whole, and so he allows you more freedom than he might afford other people.

So, because of this, you know that if you asked then he’d happily move you to a different area of the store, but you don't actually know where you want to go. You’re torn between hoping that you’re in a section near Jungkook (so you can ogle him) or the opposite of the store (so you’re saved any further shame due to the fact that you’re an absolute dunderhead, just an absolute embarrassment, why were you allowed outside?), but then Sejin tells you your job for the night and you can’t help a groan from escaping you.

“It’s my first shift back after my holiday and you want me to reduce all night?”

You can’t help but sound a little whiny. Reducing is so boring. Looking through everything on the shelf and scanning it and then having to stick the reduced labels on them? Over and over and over? For the whole night? Your brain is already shutting down in anticipation for the repetitive monotony. (You have to try to conserve what few brain cells you have left and you're not about to waste them on this.)

Sejin looks genuinely apologetic. “Some day staff called in sick so there weren’t enough people to finish everything. You only have the meat and fish sections to do.”

You’re so distressed at the idea of having to sift through piles of meat that you don’t notice how Jungkook perks up at this, sitting up a little in his seat; if you’d been paying attention you’d realise that the meat and fish area is directly adjacent to fruit and veg, both sections within direct eyesight of each other. Instead you’re remembering the time you’d had a packet of sea bass leak on you and no matter how many times you’d washed your hands, the fishy smell had remained. Eurgh.

“Alright, that’s everything!” Sejin claps his hands together. “Let’s get to work, everyone.”

There’s the usual grumblings and mutterings as people start to make their way out of the canteen and downstairs to start work. You take Yoongi’s mug from him and dump both of your empty cups into the hatch of the canteen, already resigning yourself to a long night of misery and boredom. Why did you choose to work in a supermarket, again?

You dawdle around upstairs for longer than you probably should once everyone’s gone, dreading the fact that you’re going to have to properly introduce yourself to Jungkook. Night shift is very insular and you can assume that no one’s introduced themselves to him or made an effort to be friendly— hence why he's been sitting alone. You’re the one person who works overnight who actually goes out of their way to introduce themselves to any new starters, but you’re fairly certain that if you try to introduce yourself to Jungkook you’ll end up throwing up on him. He’s just so hot that it makes you nervous.

You make a long drawn out ahhhhhhhhhhh noise, letting your frustration out before straightening up and puffing out your chest. It’s fine! You’re fine. You’re a strong, confident, smart night shift worker who’s introduced herself to new people multiple times before. Jungkook is just another person. Sure, he’s the cutest guy you’ve ever seen, but he’s just another person. It’s fine.

It’s not fine.

The second you round the corner to the fruit and veg section on your way to meat and fish, you see Jungkook effortlessly heft a massive crate of grapefruit as if it weighs nothing and you want to pass out. The one time you’d tried to lift a crate like that you’d almost done your back in, but Jungkook just lifts it with ease.

What’s worse is that while you’ve seen him do this before, he’d been wearing a day shift uniform at the time. The day shift uniform is, honestly, pretty ugly, an ugly beige long-sleeve button up with an equally ugly tan tie under an ugly grey apron (but of course Jungkook had still looked radiant in spite of the ugly ensemble he was forced to wear). The night shift uniform isn’t necessarily attractive either, a simple black polo shirt and combat trousers, but unlike the button up, the polo shirt is a t-shirt— and Jungkook’s rolled the already shorter sleeves up so that all of his arm is on display (holy shit he has tattoos). You can see the flex of his muscles in all their glory, the way his biceps bulge as he lifts the crate higher, the veins that run down to his hands, and your mouth floods with saliva.

“Arm,” you say.

“Pardon?” Jungkook looks up, confused, and then startles when he sees you.

“Um, nothing!” you stutter. There’s a loose lock of hair hanging across his forehead and you stare at that rather than looking into his eyes. You’d probably burst into flames if you made eye contact right now. “I just wanted to, uh, introduce myself? I know you’ve been working nights for a few weeks now so I’m kind of late, but I was on holiday. I’m Y/n.”

“I know,” Jungkook says, and then he sees how your eyes widen and he scrabbles to explain. “Uh, Sejin said it during the meeting.” He swallows.

You cough. Of course. There’s no other reason Jungkook would have known your name without you telling him; you sincerely doubt he’d sleuthed your name out via the rotas pinned on the board, much as you had with him. (You swear you’re not a stalker, he’s just really cute, okay?)

“I’m Jungkook,” he finishes, laughing awkwardly.

“I guessed,” you say, pointing at his name badge like that’s the reason you know it. He stares down at his chest, as if he’d forgotten that he had it pinned there, and although you'd genuinely been looking at the badge, you suddenly notice that you can see the definition of his pecs even with the thick fabric of the polo shirt. You want to pass out again. You need to divert your attention to something else, stat, your brain scrambling for something to say next. “You know, you’re the only person on night shift who’s wearing a badge. No one else does.”

You wince. Great. Now you sound like an asshole. Nice going, idiot.

Jungkook glances away from his badge to your finger, which is still pointing. He’s staring at your nail polish. Even though no one cares what the night shift gets up to, nail polish is technically against the rules and you wonder if he’s about to say something derogatory—you’d deserve it, you were just kind of a dick to him—when he smiles instead. “I like your nails.”

“O-oh,” you stutter, surprised. They’re nothing special, the colour a little chipped in places, but you’re still flattered by how genuine Jungkook’s compliment sounds. “Um. Thanks.” And because you have a habit of responding to compliments with one of your own, you say: "I really like your tattoos. The flowers are beautiful."

Jungkook looks stunned and doesn't respond. You spend a few moments staring at each other before Sejin rounds the corner, and you both abruptly turn away so it doesn’t look like you’re just standing around and talking instead of working (although that is, in fact, what you’re doing). You hustle over to the meat section, grabbing packs of bacon and pretending to look at the dates, even though you have no idea what date it is. No thoughts head full of Jungkook.

Over the years, you’ve mastered the art of Quick Glancing™. While to anyone watching you it would seem as though you’re absorbed in your work, sifting through food to check if it’s going out of date, you’re actually looking at Jungkook more often than not. Whenever it seems like he might catch you, your eyes dart back to whatever cut of meat you’re holding at the time—a box of liver, eww, slimy—but you spend the majority of the time watching him move around. You can’t help but wonder if he’d lift you as easily as those crates and have to suppress a full body shiver. Down, girl.

Yoongi appears like clockwork the second it hits midnight, leaning against the fridge as you stare at a pack of chicken wings. “Coffee time.”

“Oh, thank God.” You straighten up, unceremoniously dropping the chicken wings onto the shelf. “Caffeine, I need caffeine, get me the caffeine.”

You get the caffeine. You and Yoongi always go back to the canteen at midnight for coffee—even though you’re technically not meant to—and bring your mugs downstairs—something else you’re also not meant to do. You drink your coffee between looking at the packets of food on the shelf, sifting through trays of chicken breasts and stickering whatever's due to go out of date as Yoongi idles around near you, peering at everything you’ve slapped a reduced label on. He clicks his tongue at a lacklustre reduction, unimpressed at how little money has been slashed off the price, and honestly? Mood.

“Don’t you have bread to put out?”

“Finished it. I’m waiting for the next delivery.” Yoongi yawns, but then his eyes suddenly narrow as he looks in the direction of fruit and veg. “Your new little friend keeps looking at us. I think he might be a narc.”

“Huh? Oh, Jungkook?” You look up from the chicken thighs. Jungkook is far out of earshot but clearly visible, hunched over a shelf as he starts to furiously organise some courgettes. “Nah, I don’t think he’s a narc. Besides, what’s Sejin going to do? Fire us? We get coffee all the time and he's never said anything about it before.”

“Yeah, but Jungkook doesn’t know that.” Yoongi scowls. He sounds suspicious. “Hm. I’m going to go back to bread, but keep an eye on that one.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. “Got it,” you say with a salute.

Yoongi wanders off but not before throwing Jungkook a sharp look, which the boy doesn’t notice, resolutely staring at the courgettes. Seems like he’s really intent on making them look neat, which you think is kind of unnecessary, but whatever. It's kind of cute actually.

You don’t think Jungkook is a snitch, but you do have to admit it’s maybe a little weird how often you seem to catch him watching you, though he’s very quick to look away. Your suspicions grow somewhat when he ends up in the canteen at the same time as you, eating your lunch a lot later than everyone else. You like the peace and quiet when the room is almost empty.

Yoongi normally has lunch with you, but today he’d had to eat earlier because Sejin had asked him to help unload the delivery lorry, so you’re alone in the room with Jungkook. Although he sits on the table farthest away from you, it’s maybe a bit strange that he’s up there when you are. Like, sure, you do appreciate the fact that you can gawk at him a little bit more, but maybe Yoongi is right about him being a narc?

Nah. You’re probably just being paranoid. Jungkook is clearly introverted, not talking to the other guys working on the fruit and veg section, so he probably came up at the quietest time of day (/night) so he could avoid everyone. You can understand that.

Your lunch is almost over and you’re in the middle of making yourself and Yoongi another cup of coffee to take downstairs when Jungkook suddenly appears at your shoulder. You yelp in surprise when you notice him there, scattering coffee granules across the counter instead of dropping them in the cup like you’d meant to, clutching your chest in shock.

“Oh, God, sorry,” he apologises, and he fumbles as he scoops the granules into his palm to clear them up—and then he just stands there with a handful of instant coffee as he looks at you. You’re still clutching your heart. “Uh. I was wondering, do you bring your own coffee in?”

“Yes,” you say, cagey, unsure what he wants. You notice that he’s unintentionally cornered you against the counter, and now that your earlier shock has ebbed away, you can’t help but notice your height difference when he’s this close to you. “Can’t get coffee overnight otherwise. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, uh, I just didn’t realise we were allowed to?” Jungkook sounds awkward, unsure. “I would have brought my own in if I’d known.”

You stare at him for a second. Yoongi would kill you if he saw what you did next, but you just end up turning around to grab another mug and dump a spoonful of coffee into it. “Do you have milk or sugar?”

“Huh?”

“Do you have milk or sugar? In your coffee?” You repeat carefully, tapping a spoon against the third mug, trying to tamp down the blush that’s threatening to appear on your cheeks when you glance at Jungkook over your shoulder. “You want one, right?”

“Oh.” He goes a little lax with surprise, apparently not realising that he’s done so until he drops a few bits of coffee on the floor and then lifts his hand again—you can see where the granules that are directly in contact with his skin have started to dissolve a little, sticky. The pile of coffee looks so small in his big hands. You want to eat out of his palm, as gross as that thought is. “Yeah, milk and sugar, please.”

As he goes to wash the coffee from his hands, you stare at yourself in the reflection of the metal kettle, wondering what the fuck you were doing while also trying to tame your thirst into submission. You never let anyone have your coffee (except Yoongi, obviously, and Hobi, when he’d been here) (a moment of silence for your boy) and you’ve known Jungkook for less than one (1) shift and you’ve already initiated him as part of the Coffee Crew.

Yoongi picks up on this immediately, spotting you and Jungkook reemerging onto the shop floor at the same time, although you peel away to visit your friend in the bread section. “Is that a mug that I saw Jungkook holding?”

“Yeah,” you say with forced casualness, wary of Yoongi’s response. Here we go.

But to your surprise he seems pleased. “He can’t narc on us now that he’s drinking coffee on the shop floor too,” Yoongi says.

“Oh, right! Yeah, that was my plan all along.” You force laughter, as if your pulse hadn’t been racing as you’d watched Jungkook take the first sip from the coffee you’d prepared for him, worried that he wouldn’t like it. You’d wanted to vomit your heart out of chest when he’d given you a small, shy smile and said that it was perfect, as if he wasn’t drinking cheap, crappy instant coffee, which was subpar even when it was good.

Yoongi raises his eyebrows at your fake hyena laughter but decides not to comment on it.

He raises his eyebrows again the next night when he witnesses you preparing coffee for Jungkook firsthand, lining up three mugs at midnight instead of just two, making coffee the way Jungkook likes it. “Once was enough to stop him from double crossing us, I think,” Yoongi says.

“I’m making this for him because I want Jungkook to be part of the group,” you say firmly, ignoring the way your hand trembles a little when you say this. Jungkook had waved goodbye to you when he’d spotted you in the morning after your first shift together, and tonight he’d made eye contact when you’d walked into the break room—more quietly than you had the day before—before smiling at you. (You’re constantly torn between wanting to coo at how adorable he is or begging him to bend you over a table, and it’s hard to keep these thoughts from showing on your face whenever you smile at him, but you’re doing a damn good job.)

Yoongi, despite his usual unflappable nature, looks absolutely floored. Even though you’d both spoken to Hoseok from the moment he’d started working with you, it had taken you a few weeks before you’d even offered to get him a drink at midnight, a mutual decision both you and Yoongi had agreed upon. And here you were, inviting Jungkook in without consulting your coworker-turned-best-friend, after one night. (You’re sure Hobi wouldn’t mind, but you feel kind of bad when you think about it and resolve to pay for his lunch when you see him next week.)

Yoongi squints at you as you keep your attention focused on the coffee and so don’t see the realisation settling across his features.

“Oh,” he says once it’s clicked. “You wanna suck his dick.”

You end up scattering coffee across the counter again. At this rate you may as well just pour the granules straight into the bin and cut out the middle man.

“Yeah, you wanna suck his dick,” Yoongi muses, watching as you grouse and clean up the coffee.

“At least when I talk about your crush on Jimin I have the decency to not be crude about it,” you say, jabbing a finger in Yoongi’s direction. He flushes.

“I don’t have a crush on Jimin,” he scowls. You scoff.

“Oh, please, Yoons. You’re not as subtle as you think. If I catch you staring at Jimin’s ass one more time with those googly eyes of yours I’m gonna yarf.” Jimin’s ass, admittedly, is very nice, the awful work trousers somehow flattering on him, but it’s the reverence with which Yoongi looks at it that makes his crush obvious. Amongst plenty of other things. “And you let him have my doughnut! As if that isn’t practically a declaration of marriage!”

“You’re still going on about the doughnut?” Yoongi rolls his eyes. “That happened months ago.”

“It was a limited edition Krispy Kreme doughnut, Yoons!” Your voice has gone shrill. “A motherfucking Kit Kat doughnut! The only reason I didn’t strike you down where you stood is because I fully support your crush on Jimin, even if I think it’s ridiculous you haven’t asked him out already! Anyway,” you say, letting the spoon clatter into the mug. “Whether or not I want to suck Jungkook’s dick, I miss having a third person in this group. Hobi actually laughed at my jokes.”

“I laugh at your jokes when they’re funny.”

“You never laugh at them!”

“I said what I said.”

“I’m going to poison your coffee so Jungkook and I can drink the rest in peace,” you say. “Oh, moment of silence for Hobi, we almost forgot.” The moment of silence lasts for a second, and then you’re pouring the freshly boiled water into the mugs.

“I guess I should talk to Jungkook, then.” Yoongi still sounds suspicious and you glare at him as you stir the coffee.

“If I find out that you’re being mean to him, I will genuinely poison your drink,” you say, lifting the spoon and gesturing with it aggressively enough that a droplet of coffee goes flying off and lands on Yoongi’s face. You have no doubt that Jungkook could snap Yoongi like a twig if he wanted to, but Jungkook seems far too nice for that, and Yoongi can be surprisingly intimidating.

“You won’t poison me.” He wipes the coffee away, unperturbed.

You snort. “I’ll use decaff and I won’t tell you.”

This makes Yoongi’s eyes narrow. “You wouldn’t dare.”

"Watch me.”

With that threat firmly in place, you feel a little better when you hand Jungkook’s coffee to Yoongi to give to him. You’re not near the fruit and vegetable section tonight so you won’t be able to keep a direct eye on them, but you’ll catch up with Yoongi once he’s wandered back over to bread.

You’re starting to feel a bit suspicious at how long Yoongi’s been absent for and so you make your way across the shop floor to see if you can find him. To your infinite surprise you spot both guys near the salads, Yoongi perched on an upturned crate while Jungkook puts watercress onto the shelf, the two of them in deep discussion about something. You feel like you’ve stepped into the Twilight Zone when you see Yoongi genuinely laugh and you back away, unsettled.

When you eat lunch that night, Jungkook sits with you on your table at Yoongi’s behest. It’s still a quiet affair, like normal—you take as many opportunities as you can to sneak glances at Jungkook, surprised at exactly how much food he puts away—but when he offers to make the coffee, you have a hushed conversation with Yoongi while your muscle boy is distracted. You keep your eyes fixed on Jungkook’s back, and it really is unfair how good his shoulder blades look with that black material stretched across them. There’s no point in trying to hide your thirst from Yoongi now that he knows about it so you’re free to stare.

“I thought you said he was a narc,” you whisper, eyes still fixed on Jungkook's back. How is his waist so small? (Lord have mercy on your soul.)

“Nah, Jungkook is okay,” Yoongi replies. In Yoongi-speak this means that he really likes Jungkook and you’re flabbergasted.

You don’t get a chance to say anything else before Jungkook is turning around, proffering your drinks to you with a bright smile—you can see his teeth, and you’ve never wanted to lick someone’s teeth before but apparently the sight of Jungkook’s mouth will do that to you, who would have guessed. It’s been two shifts and you’re already this dehydrated, just dying of thirst, shrivelled up like Spongebob in that episode where he visits Sandy’s dome for the first time. You’re a crusty thirsty sponge and Jungkook is a tall, sexy glass of water.

(You’re so fucking screwed.)

The thing with initiating Jungkook into the Coffee Crew is that you’re faced with the reality of his good looks constantly. Jungkook still doesn’t talk to anyone else, really, but he lights up around Yoongi and yourself, and you start to look forward to seeing those shiny doe eyes of his, the way he perks up whenever he sees you.

Work quickly becomes the highlight of your week, which is something you thought you'd never say, but Jungkook is just too powerful. Everything about him is absolutely fucking devastating, a few examples being:

The night when it’s a little warmer, and he unbuttons all three buttons on his polo shirt—you can see his collarbones and the tiniest bit of his chest, going feral over such a small slip of skin like you’re some sort of Victorian lady who keeps her ankles hidden in public and you’ve never seen bare skin before.

Or when you got caught behind him on the stairs while he’s explaining the difference between meat protein and vegetable protein—you get a wonderful view of his ass, which you take full advantage of (respectfully). You get another look at said ass when he plays a game of pool against Yoongi while you sit on the sofa and watch, Jungkook leaning over the wonky pool table so that he can make a particularly difficult shot, placing his wonderful butt directly into your line of vision.

Or when you notice that even though Jungkook cycles to work, he never seems to smell like sweat, and instead he just smells like fresh clothes, clean linen that’s so potent you can smell him before you see him. But no one smells that much like clean laundry, right? It must be his cologne.

“Jungkook, do you wear cologne?”

Jungkook, to his credit, doesn’t seem surprised at your question and just answers it like he would any other. “No, why?”

“Oh, it’s just that you smell nice? Sort of like whatever 'clean cotton' is apparently meant to smell like. Y’know? Like fresh laundry.”

“I do wash my clothes every day,” he says. “I guess you could call me a bit of a clean freak?”

For some reason, the fact that he smells so nice because of his clothes is just so hot. You want to bury your face in his shirt and just breathe him in, but that would be weird and creepy and invasive. So you don’t do that and instead allow yourself to sniff from a polite distance, olfactory senses working overtime whenever he’s nearby.

(Yoongi finds you uncapping all the detergents down the laundry aisle one night, desperately huffing each type to try and work out which one Jungkook uses. “Jesus Christ,” he says, watching as you take a particularly long drag of whatever Spring Day is—it’s pleasant, whatever it is, but it’s not what you’re looking for. “Are you trying to get high?”

“Smell this,” you say instead, shoving it in his face. He takes a wary sniff, nose crinkling. “This is nice, isn’t it?”

“I guess?” Yoongi seems baffled. “Okay, you’re clearly busy, I’ll tell Sejin to ask someone else to do the job.” You don’t reply, too busy sucking in a lungful of Crystal Snow as Yoongi backs away.)

Jungkook also seems to have this weird knack of appearing whenever you need help lifting or moving something heavy. Normally you hate it when someone steps in to help you, a little offended at the idea that you can’t do something yourself—you've been doing this for long enough that you've developed a technique for things—but when Jungkook does it you don’t feel disrespected at all. He’s just so nice about it.

Like the time when you’re struggling to move an empty wooden pallet and put it on top of a stack of others; not only is it heavy, it's large and unwieldy, too. The last time you’d tried to move one of these you’d ended up hitting it against your shins while also getting a palmful of splinters. You hate these things. Jungkook, however, materialises out of seemingly nowhere and offers you his help. He ends up lifting the thing himself, squatting down to grab it and just tossing it on top of the pile. He does it effortlessly, literally effortlessly, like the pallet weighs nothing to him, and when you ask if he thought it was heavy, he blinks.

“No, not really,” he says. You have to bite the inside of your mouth to stop yourself from screeching.

“You must lift a lot of weights,” you say, weakly, and Jungkook nods.

“I’ve started incorporating weights into my pull up routine recently, too.”

“Oh? Do you, like… tie them to yourself or something? Uh. How heavy are they?”

Jungkook perks up, apparently excited at the opportunity of talking about exercise. “I hold a fifteen kilogram weight in one hand while I do a pull up with the other,” he says.

Your legs feel weak at this mental image and you end up sitting on the stack of pallets as Jungkook starts to tell you about the rest of his workout routine, and when you find out he does kickboxing as well, you almost have to excuse yourself so that you can try and calm down. Instead you grin and bear it, your fingers digging into your thighs in the horniest grip known to man, acting like this is just a normal conversation that is absolutely not affecting you, no sir, no sirree, holy shit you’re going to die.

That night you do have to excuse yourself at lunch when you make a comment on Jungkook’s food, and he says that he needs to keep his calorie count up because he’s bulking at the moment.

“Bulking? Like for abs?” Yoongi asks.

“I already have abs,” Jungkook says dismissively. Your leg jolts under the table and your knee hits the underside of it, sending your empty lunch box almost flying to the floor, and Jungkook and Yoongi look at you in alarm. “Are you alright, Y/n?”

“Bathroom,” you gasp. “I gotta—bathroom. Lady stuff.”

You splash water over your face and run it over your wrists, desperately trying to cool down. You’d suspected he had abs, for multiple reasons, not least of all the fact that whenever he leaned back in his chair the material of his shirt would settle on his stomach in a way that hinted at the shape of the muscles underneath, but to hear him confirm it—like it was nothing—good lord. (Yoongi’s caught you staring at Jungkook’s stomach multiple times when the boy was distracted, but you’re beyond caring. If you have to deal with Yoongi fawning over Jimin then he can put up with you ogling Jungkook.)

When you come back, Yoongi is at the counter making your coffees while Jungkook is still sitting at the table. You slide back into your seat, about as composed as you’re going to get, when Jungkook leans towards you.

“Are you okay?” He looks worried. “I have some heat pads in my locker if, um, you wanted them, if you’re having period pains?” he says, but then he looks unsure. “I don’t know if you’re actually meant to use them on your tummy, though.”

Tummy. You want to squeal at how cute the word is, not to mention the fact that Jungkook doesn’t seem bothered about talking about period related stuff, unlike a lot of guys you’d known. “Oh, uh, no, thanks, Jungkook,” you say, flushing. “That’s really nice of you but I’m alright.”

“Okay,” Jungkook says, although he’s still clearly concerned. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

And that’s the other thing. You still think Jungkook is the hottest person you’ve ever seen, of course, but he’s also so nice. And hardworking. And sweet. And gentle and thoughtful and determined and talented and just—he's just a whole lot of man, really, just so much, too much. Initially you’d been attracted to him based purely on how cute he was, but now that you've actually gotten to know him, your attraction has morphed into a full-on all consuming crush that’s absolutely catastrophic.

Even when you’re not at work, you keep zoning out because you’re thinking about: Jungkook’s arms, Jungkook’s thighs, Jungkook’s face, Jungkook’s personality, or a mix of all of the above. You can’t focus on things when all you can think about is Jungkook.

Jimin, of course, has been kept fully up to date with the situation. You squat behind the bakery counter whenever he’s on a late shift, hiding away from prying eyes so that you can talk to him as he tidies up, although you know he’s making moony eyes at Yoongi, who’ll glance back at him between the shelves of bread.

You groan into your hands from your cross legged position on the floor, sat atop a flattened croissant box, and Jimin pats you sympathetically on the head.

“Jungkook is very cute,” says Jimin. You groan again.

“I want him to raw me,” you say. Yoongi must have been closer than you thought because you hear a noise of disgust from the other side of the counter before the sound of his footsteps moving away. Jimin laughs his tinkly little laugh as you continue to speak. “But I also want him to hold my hand? And I wanna kiss his cute little forehead. And make him breakfast in bed. Ugh. I hate this,” you whine.

Jimin pats your head again. “Why don’t you ask him for coffee?”

You take your head out of your hands and fix him with a pout. “Why don’t you?”

“You know I don’t ask people for coffee, Y/n, I’m the one who gets asked,” Jimin says, and you know he’s projecting his voice so that Yoongi can hear him. You also know that Yoongi is too dense to pick up on this obvious flirtation, even though you can see how Jimin throws a wink in the direction of where Yoongi must be; you don’t turn to look over the counter but you hear the distinct sound of someone walking into a stack of bread and knocking it over, before Yoongi swears. Jimin just looks fond.

“Oh my God, just marry each other already,” you mutter.

“He has to ask me out first,” Jimin says, softly enough that Yoongi can’t hear from where he must be furiously tidying up the bread, if the sound of plastic packaging and low curses are anything to go by. “Seriously, Y/n, it sounds like Jungkook likes you as well. I think you should just go for it.”

You sigh. “Jungkook’s so far out of my league it’s like we’re not even playing the same sport. He’s sinking three pointers while I’m, I don’t know, whacking balls with a croquet mallet,” you mumble.

Jungkook is nice and funny and works out and is hot, so hot, the kind of hot that has people literally stopping to look at him. (You certainly had, the first time you'd spotted him down an aisle, doing a literal double take at how cute he was.) You, meanwhile, are a clown whose sense of humour has been warped by years of niche internet memes, you drink more coffee than is probably medically advisable, and make-up can only take you up to a shaky 6/10 on a very good day. All in all: Not Exactly A Catch.

Jimin clearly disagrees. “Don’t be stupid, Y/n.” He sounds genuinely mad, frowning at you. "If I didn’t like Yoongi I absolutely would have asked you out by now. Jungkook would be lucky to have you, you are a wholeass meal.”

“Yoongi compared me to a slug the other day,” you say. Admittedly it was because he’d knocked on your door when you’d been in the middle of shaving your legs, your skin shining with coconut oil—so the slug slime comment was definitely warranted and hadn’t been an insult—but Jimin’s expression turns murderous, unaware of the context.

“Min Yoongi, you get over here right now,” he hisses. Yoongi is there in seconds. “Did you call Y/n a slug?”

Yoongi’s face looms at you from over the counter. “Should’ve called her a snake instead,” he says, and you stick your tongue out at him.

“Hiss hiss,” you say. “That’s what you get for chatting shit about coconut oil.”

Jimin blinks before his face goes smooth and a look of understanding crosses his features, raising an eyebrow at you. You bat your eyelashes at him innocently.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “I’m going back to the bagels,” he says, but then his voice is gentle when he continues: “Unless you need something else, Jimin?”

“No, thank you, Yoongi.” He smiles at Yoongi, soft and sweet, instantly forgetting about the slug comment.

The two of them look at each other like the rest of the world has ceased to exist and you mime throwing up, but because they’re looking at each other like the rest of the world has ceased to exist, neither of them notice. You hear Yoongi’s footsteps recede and you lift your hands in despair.

“How is it even when I’m having a breakdown over a boy, the two of you manage to be so incredibly gay over each other?”

“It’s a talent,” Jimin says. “Besides, as happy as I am to listen to you, there’s only so many ways you can say I wanna suck Jungkook’s dick so bad, or he’s so adorable, what the fuck, or oh my God, Jungkook is so hot and I’m so thirsty, which are all things you’ve said, verbatim, multiple times.”

“It’s true.” You pout. “You’ve only seen Jungkook from a distance, anyway. He’s even better up close.” The bakery section is the other side of the supermarket, as far away from the fruit and veg section as you can possibly get; Jungkook has a much better work ethic than you and Yoongi and actually stays in his area to work, so he hasn’t met Jimin properly yet.

Jimin’s expression becomes thoughtful. “You know what, that’s true,” he says.

You’re immediately on guard. Jimin is well-meaning and considerate and kind, but he also loves to meddle and has absolutely no shame about it—the second you see that glint in his eyes, you think that maybe you’ve said something you shouldn’t have, but then you notice the time and your eyes widen.

“Oh, shit, I better go pretend to work before Sejin realises I’m missing.” You scrabble to your feet. “If I don’t see you before you go, have a safe drive home, Jimin!”

Jimin’s usually pretty punctual about leaving on time (even if he’ll hang around to talk to Yoongi, ugh). You wander over to the fruit section to help Sejin fill a display stand, and you freeze in the middle of lifting some apples into a paper bag when you spot Jimin talking to Jungkook. Jimin looks coy, Jungkook looks confused, and you? You probably look constipated. Why is Jimin still here?

You only realise that your mouth is open when Jimin spots you and winks, overexaggerated and theatrical. Your mouth snaps shut as Jungkook’s attention turns to whatever he’s winking at. You duck out of sight before he can spot you, scampering down the length of the store before practically throwing your apples at Sejin, who is understandably caught off guard and fails to catch the bag.

“I’ll go get some blueberries for the other shelf from the back room,” you bark in his face, all but running away before he can respond, leaving him surrounded by the escapee apples (escapples?) that are rolling away from him. You skulk around the entrance of the fruit and veg room for a little while, waiting for Jimin to leave via the staff exit—directly across from where you’re standing—but he doesn’t appear and you can only pretend to look for blueberries for so long, eventually returning to Sejin while despondently clutching the trays of berries.

Jungkook doesn’t seem any different when you make your midnight coffee run, and lunch is about as normal as usual. When you mention Jimin, he smiles, saying that it was nice to finally meet him, but other than seemingly slightly distracted—as if deep in thought—that’s it. There’s no hint that Jimin mentioned anything about you at all, least of all your crush—thank God—but you can feel the ripples in the Force. (Or maybe that was all the coffee you were drinking, seriously, maybe you should slow down?) You know that it’s not a coincidence that you’d had yet another meltdown about Jungkook right before Jimin had introduced himself to the object of your affections. You also know that Jimin knows that you know that, utterly shameless as always.

Jimin is on another late shift the next night. You squat behind the bakery counter when it’s unmanned, Jimin going outside to throw away some old baguettes or whatever, and you (metaphorically) pounce on him when he reappears. “Park Jimin.”

Jimin is entirely unsurprised. In fact he even has a box for you to sit on, proffering a flattened piece of porridge packaging; you feel uncomfortable at the idea of sitting on the Quaker Oats guy’s face and flip it over so you can see brown cardboard rather than his weirdly smug expression looking up at you. “Yes?”

“What exactly were you talking to Jungkook about last night?” You peer up at him, attempting to look at least somewhat threatening, but it’s kind of hard when you’re so much lower to the ground than Jimin is right now. Jimin has to look down at you so far that he’s given himself a double chin, but he’s still gorgeous, because of course he is. (He should leave some for the rest of you, jeez.)

“Oh, a lot of things,” Jimin says. “You were right about him being a sweetheart. He’s very nice. I approve.”

“What are you, my dad?” You mutter to yourself, but then: “You didn’t say anything about my crush, did you?”

Jimin is a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them. So when he answers you with a simple “no” you believe him, although you can’t help but still feel a little suspicious. Your gut might be full of coffee more often than not, but she’s also a smart bitch—smarter than your brain for sure—and your gut is telling you that Park Jimin must have done or said something.

“Yoongi is putting the tortillas out, so excuse me if I’m distracted,” Jimin says. The tortilla wraps are on the bottom shelf so Yoongi has to bend over to work them. You make a face of disgust and stand up to leave.

“Fine, me and the Quaker Oats guy will take ourselves elsewhere.” You tuck the flattened box snugly under your arm. “We know when we’re not wanted.”

You feel a little bad later when you put the box into the industrial baler that you have, the machine crushing all of your cardboard flat, saddened that you’ve had to part from your new friend so soon. Bye, Quaker Oats guy.

Jungkook finds you standing in front of the baler with a genuinely sad expression on your face, silent as the machine makes mechanical squealing and wailing noises while it crushes the boxes inside it. “Uh. Is everything okay?” He asks, delicate.

“It will be eventually,” you say solemnly, but then you look away from the baler and immediately brighten, smiling at him. “Did you need me for something?”

Jungkook looks at you for a second and then shakes his head. “I was just out here to get some more stock from the back room,” he says, and you both get back to work, unaware of the glances you steal at each other as you part.

Later that night—well, technically, morning—you see someone you haven’t seen for a while, and you gasp with excitement when you spot him. “Namjoon!” You holler down the aisle, far too loud and energetic at 5am, jogging up to him. “I thought you stopped morning shifts!”

Namjoon is a beautiful tree of a man, tall and long limbed, and probably the nicest person you’ve ever met. You’ve missed his dimples. “I did, but, I’m doing a bit of overtime,” he says, and you can’t help but smile up at him.

You’re so caught up in your laughter, cackling at a story that Namjoon is telling you, that you don’t notice Jungkook spotting you from the other end of the aisle. He circles around a few times, pretending to be straightening up the shelves, but watches as you shuffle closer to Namjoon, your heads practically knocking against each other as you stare intently at something on his phone. Jungkook can’t bear it any longer and starts to walk over. He has no idea what he’s planning to do once he gets there but he’s marching over anyway, and that's when you spot him.

“Jungkook, Jungkook!” You beckon him over—like he wasn’t coming in your direction already—and you sound so excited. “Jungkook, look, puppies!”

Jungkook has no idea who the tall guy is but he’s nice enough to turn his phone towards Jungkook without being asked to. There are multiple puppies tumbling over each other in the video, nosing at each other and flopping around. “I thought a golden retriever would be good for Jin, because he’s never had a dog before,” the tall man says, and you coo.

“They’re so cute! Oh my God, Joon, you should get one of those little bandanas you could tie around their necks, those are adorable,” you squeal. “Ahh, I love dogs so much. Don’t you, Jungkook?” Your eyes are shining as you look up at him, excited.

Jungkook feels like he needs to sit down. “Of course. Who doesn’t?” He says, and you beam at him; he has to dig his fingers into his palms at how cute you are. He desperately turns his attention back to the video, where one of the puppies is nosing at a ball. “Look at them retrieve.”

“Retrieve my heart,” you say, clutching your chest. “Ahh, gosh, Joonie, you’re really living the dream, moving in with your hot boyfriend and getting a dog together.” You’re too busy imagining living in that reality to notice how all the tension leaves Jungkook the second he hears that Namjoon has a boyfriend. Oblivious. “Anyway, you should probably get back to work, I’ve distracted you for long enough. Sorry!”

“No problem.” Namjoon quirks a smile at you, nodding at Jungkook before moving away.

“Ahh, Namjoon is so lucky,” you say wistfully. “He’s so nice though, he deserves it.”

Jungkook is looking at you, curious. “You really get to know everyone, don’t you?”

“Huh?” You blink. “What? Yeah, I guess. Is that weird?”

“No.” Jungkook pauses, and you think that’s all he’s going to say on the matter, but then his mouth opens again. “You’re just so nice to everyone, and you actually pay attention to what they say and remember it. Most of the time when people talk, they don’t actually listen, they’re just waiting for when it’s their turn to talk about themselves, but you don’t do that. It’s cool,” he adds, belatedly. “I really admire it.”

You’re staring at him in shock. No one’s ever said anything like that before, complimented you in such a wholehearted way about something they’ve noticed about you. It's thrown you for a loop. You’re so used to thinking of yourself as a clown—a friendly clown, sure, but a clown nonetheless—that you’re genuinely shaken to the core after hearing what Jungkook’s just said about you.

He looks alarmed when you don’t respond, just blinking up at him as your brain desperately tries to reboot, but you’re saved from having to reply when Sejin calls out to you.

“Y/n, the computer at the front desk is playing up again." His hands are cupped around his mouth, amplifying himself so that you can hear him down the aisle. “You’re the only one who knows how to fix it.”

You snap out of your daze. “Again? You’ve tried turning it off and on again, right?” You’re about to walk away from Jungkook, but first you glance up at him, shy. “Um. Thanks for always being so nice, Kookie. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he says. He sounds a little breathless. You don’t have time to ask why, Sejin’s noise of distress catching your attention.

“I’m coming!” You rush off, nearly tripping on a loose grape on the floor; you manage to regain your balance with minimal flailing, unaware of how Jungkook fondly watches you go.

A few weeks later, you get sick.

You’re really bad at being sick, one of the reasons being that you don’t like to admit that you are sick—and so you still roll into work despite the fact you’re clearly unwell.

“You look like a body that’s just been fished out of the water.” Yoongi shows his concern in an interesting way. “Like you’ve been floating belly up near that trash island in the middle of the ocean that’s the size of Texas.”

You fix him with a baleful stare. He’d threatened to not let you into his car earlier, locking the door as you’d been reaching for the handle; he’d only relented after you’d hissed at him and scrabbled at the glass like some sort of feral cat.

“You do look a bit more tired than usual,” Jungkook says delicately.

You groan. The noise sounds like it’s being ripped out of your throat, which feels as dry as the sahara desert; why are your throat and eyes so dry while your nose keeps running? Why is the liquid in all the wrong places? The human body is a wreck. (After glancing at Jungkook, who looks as perfect as always, you mentally correct yourself—your body is a wreck.)

“I’m fine,” you rasp, and then sniff, trying to stop your nose from dripping. Jungkook hands you a tissue. “I don’t need this, because I’m not sick, but thank you.”

You proceed to blow your nose loudly into the tissue, a trumpeting noise that trails off into a squeak, a sad little thing that sounds like the farting noise a balloon makes when all the air finally escapes it. Yoongi snorts with amusement but Jungkook’s brow is furrowed with concern.

Rather than being disgusted at your appearance—you’re not sick, you’re just suffering from mild allergies or something, so maybe you’ll admit that you look a little washed out—Jungkook has been worried about you from the moment you’d walked in. He’d even offered you his work fleece when he’d caught you shivering, which you’d graciously accepted. (Again, you weren’t shivering because you were sick, it’s just weirdly cold in the store today, even though no one else seems to be affected by it.) (Also, like, hello? The man of your dreams was offering you the chance to wear his clothes? As if you were going to say no to that.)

Despite definitely not being sick, you do sort of feel like your head is full of cotton wool, and everything seems so much louder than usual. Sejin takes pity on you and gives you the surprisingly easy job of counting stock out back in the warehouse, where it’s quieter and warmer—but you still keep Jungkook’s fleece on anyway, breathing in the lovely smell of his fabric softener as you idly count items, taking it slow.

You’ve climbed a stepladder so that you can reach a higher shelf, mentally tallying the cans of coke you find up there; you shuffle through them so you can turn the labels towards you, making sure you’re keeping the different flavours separate. (What’s the difference between diet and zero sugar, anyway? Aren’t they both the same thing?)

“Did I just see a pigeon walk past?”

You startle and nearly knock your row of cans off the shelf. Somehow you hadn’t noticed Jungkook walking into the warehouse, even though he clearly hadn’t meant to surprise you; his hands fly out to steady the stepladder, and though you appreciate this it throws you off balance and so you grab the shelf in front of you. One of the cans falls off, jostled by your movements, and your instinct is to try and catch it with your foot so it at least slows enough before it hits the ground that it doesn’t explode.

In theory, it’s not a bad idea. In reality, you wildly overestimate how heavy the can is and so you put way too much power into the swing of your leg and punt the can of coke into the distance. The two of you trace its arcing trajectory as it disappears over the metal racking before landing with a distinctly wet clatter. Yeah, it’s definitely exploded, hasn’t it.

“Wasn’t me,” you say immediately, but then your slower-than-normal brain catches up with what Jungkook just said. “Wait, what?”

“I was wondering if you saw a pigeon walking around,” Jungkook says. “I think I saw it walking from the back entrance into here?”

Much to his obvious surprise, your eyes light up. You’re maybe not as exuberant as usual because of your illness but you’re still clearly excited. “Oh!” You hop down off the stepladder, nearly losing your balance for a second—maybe you are a teensy weensy bit sick—but then straighten up before Jungkook can help steady you. “Shortbread’s back!”

Jungkook looks baffled but follows after you when you start to walk, abandoning your stock counts. “Shortbread?”

“Yeah! Hold on, you’re taller than me. You see that bit of metal that juts out of the ceiling there?”

Jungkook looks at where you’re pointing. It’s against the back wall of the warehouse, the ceiling lower here than in the rest of the room, panelling and wires supported by criss-crossing bars of thick blue metal. “Yeah?”

“Can you reach up there and feel around a bit?” Jungkook makes a face, clearly not wanting to shove his hand into some mysterious hidden nook, but you look up at him with the best puppy dog eyes you can muster. You probably look like a wreck (what with how sick you are) but Jungkook relents immediately anyway; you think it's because he's nice and not because your attempt at being cute had been successful. He cranes upwards and feels around with his hand until it makes contact with crinkly plastic, and you motion for him to grab it—it’s an open pack of biscuits, with a receipt wedged inside that has your name scribbled on it.

“Gimme, gimme.” You make grabby hands at him. He tilts it towards you and you latch onto a biscuit, which is clearly stale; it crumbles almost immediately in your hands but you don’t pay it any mind, gesturing for him to put the tray back in its hiding place. “Where did you see the pigeon last?”

“Uh, near the soup, I think,” Jungkook answers. You immediately head in that direction, talking over your shoulder as he follows after you.

“You’ve seen that fishing net near the cardboard baler, right?” Your eyes flit to and fro, trying to spot the errant pigeon.

“Yeah, the green one? I was wondering why that was there.”

You click your tongue. “A few months ago we had a pigeon who kept flying here and wandering into the building,” you explain. “We knew it was the same pigeon because it has a tag around its leg? I think it’s a tracker pigeon, I don’t know. So I would use biscuits to get it to follow me outside. But then management got the net and someone said they caught it and, uh, ‘disposed’ of it.” You look equal parts distressed and sad and Jungkook’s chest twinges. “I haven’t seen it since, so even though I hoped that it wasn't the truth, I kind of accepted that it probably was.”

You round the corner past soups, heading towards the cereal overstock, when you both spot the pigeon. It’s slowly walking backwards and forwards on the floor, but when you appear, it stops and looks at you.

“Shortbread! It is you!” You sound absolutely elated, squatting down and proffering the mess of crumbs in your hand, sprinkling them in front of you. “I knew they hadn’t caught you!”

The pigeon—Shortbread—hops forward immediately, heading straight for the crumbs. You laugh in delight as it gets closer and starts to peck at the food. “You’ve gotta stop coming here, bud, Sejin’s going to get really mad if he spots you,” you say. Shortbread, of course, ignores you, more intent on eating the crumbs of—well, the crumbs of shortbread that you’ve given it. You look away from the pigeon, up at Jungkook, who’s watching you with an expression on his face that you can only describe as consternation. Does he dislike pigeons, maybe? “Do you want to feed him?”

“Doyouwanttogetcoffeewithme?” Jungkook blurts. The remaining crumbs of biscuit fall out of your hand, scattering into a wild constellation of fragments that Shortbread immediately swoops down onto—but you’re not paying the bird any mind, completely blindsided.

“Uh. What?” You stare up at Jungkook. Your mouth is open and slack with surprise; you hadn’t quite caught his words, but you could have sworn that he said— “Come again?”

Jungkook’s put a hand over his face, which is starting to turn red. “Do you—do you want to get coffee with me?” Even though he’s turned his head away from you, his eyes are pointed in your direction; Shortbread makes a cooing noise and starts to peck at the crumbs directly in front of you, but neither of you pay the pigeon any attention.

“Uh.” You know your brain is running on around 25% capacity right now, a mixture of your sickness and lack of sleep catching up with you, but you could swear that—what does Jungkook mean—nah, he doesn’t mean that, no way… haha… unless…? “You… want to get coffee? You know where we keep the jar.” Shortbread pecks at your open palm, a few crumbs still stuck to your skin. You’re momentarily distracted from your mental breakdown, giggling at the sensation of the pigeon’s beak, even though it hurts your throat to laugh. “Shortbread, there’s way more food on the floor, why are you trying to eat from my hand?”

“Y/n.” When Jungkook says your name your eyes snap back towards him. “Can I take you out on a date?”

This time you do catch all his words. Your mouth falls open again and you stare at him like the dumbass you are. Is Jeon Jungkook—your cute, kind, buff angel seriously asking you out? Right now? When you're squatting on a dusty warehouse floor with a handful of stale biscuit crumbs, wearing the world’s least flattering uniform, all while looking like some sort of washed out river corpse? (Thanks for that lovely comparison, Yoongi.) Has he lost his mind? Maybe lifting all those heavy crates meant that all the blood has run into his arm muscles rather than his brain and it's been starved of oxygen, because there’s no sane reason as to why Jungkook would be asking you out on a date.

“Me? A date?” Your voice comes out as a squeak. “With you?”

Jungkook looks absolutely mortified. You didn’t realise someone’s cheeks could go that red. “Forget I said anything,” he says, turning on his heel so that he can walk away; you catch a glimpse of bright crimson climbing up the back of his neck and the tips of his ears, too.

“No, wait, Jungkook!” You snap up from your squatting position and grab Jungkook’s shoulder, smearing crumbs onto his shirt. You feel light headed as he starts to turn around, but not because he’s looking at you—you’d stood up too quickly and you feel woozy from your illness, swaying off balance.

You nearly careen sideways into some cereal overstock. Jungkook’s eyes fly wide open in alarm, interposing himself so that you land against him instead. There’s the sound of metal clattering as your weight sends Jungkook into the cereal, rattling the cage, but he holds you steady. You still feel a bit faint, but now you’re sure that it’s partially due to the fact that you’re crushed up against Jungkook’s warm, firm chest, his hands on your hips as he frowns down at you.

“Are you alright?”

“Never better,” you mumble into the fabric of his polo shirt. (Jungkook's at risk of you snotting on him if your nose starts to run, but he doesn’t seem to care.) He smells even better up close than you ever could have imagined—thank god your sense of smell is still intact—and you melt against him for a second before your brain catches up with the situation and your head snaps back so that you can look at him. “Wait. Why were you about to leave?”

Jungkook’s look of concern turns instantaneously into one of embarrassment. “No reason,” he says, voice higher than normal, clearly uncomfortable.

You clench your fist and hit his firm chest, but with no strength behind the punch; your hand may as well have been a slice of bread for all the impact it makes. “Liar.” There’s no heat behind your words. “Did you seriously ask me on a date?”

Jungkook’s face is reddening again, but you’re still leaning against him. He can’t try to escape this time. “Uh. Yes?” From this close you can count his individual eyelashes, pick out the moles that dot his face, and, yep, you were right, he’s even better up close. “I’m sorry?”

You blink. “Sorry? For asking me out? Jungkook. Do you seriously think I’d say no?”

“... yes?” Jungkook’s voice is a squeak, much like yours had been a moment earlier. Holy shit. Does he not realise how amazing and hot he is? Does he seriously think that you, resident clown, would turn him down? Does he think you’re the one who’s out of his league?

You try to put this into words. Try to ask him this gently, so you can highlight just how ridiculous he’s being. However, what comes out of your mouth is: “Are you an idiot?” Thanks, brain, for once again abandoning you in your greatest time of need. Quick, reel it back. “Why would you think that?”

Jungkook, to your eternal gratitude, doesn’t seem offended at your implication that he’s stupid. He just seems flustered. “I—you’re just so unapologetically you, you know?” He says. "You're charismatic and confident and everyone likes you. You’re the most popular person on night shift. I’m too shy to talk to anyone and I just do the same thing every night I’m here, but you can do everything. I always saw you talking to the other morning workers and you were always so nice, but you never spoke to me? When you introduced yourself to me after I moved to nights, I was confused, but, uh, really happy.”

Holy shit. He really does think that you’re out of his league. He looks like he wants the ground to swallow him up after this little speech, mouth snapping shut while his cheeks continue to blaze red. He's so cute. He's going to be the death of you.

“Jungkook. I didn’t talk to you before night shift because you made me so fucking nervous,” you say. “I could barely look at you for weeks because you’re so beautiful that it kind of makes me want to barf sometimes and I couldn’t handle it. But then you moved to nights and I couldn’t avoid talking to you, and I found out how kind and hardworking and interesting you are, and—Jungkook, I don’t think I’ve ever crushed this hard on anyone in my life.” Why are you telling him all this? You must be more sick than you realise. Your mouth is entirely out of your control. “I get so excited for work now because it means I get to see you. Yoongi and Jimin have been listening to me gush about you for months. And Hobi too, but you don't know him. But I didn’t think you’d ever like me back so I didn’t say anything,” you admit, and the tiny part of your brain that’s still functional shoots a prayer off to God, or anyone else who’s listening, begging to be struck down by lightning. No such luck. “Uh. Basically, yes, Jungkook, I would love to go on a date with you, please excuse my rambling, my brain feels like it’s full of cotton.”

Jungkook’s eyes are wide. He’s staring at you like he can’t believe anything you’re saying. You abruptly realise that the two of you are still wrapped around each other in a very compromising position, in an area of the building where anyone could appear at any moment—not to mention that Shortbread is still fluttering around nearby, eating up crumbs with typical pigeon inefficiency.

“You—you think I’m beautiful?” Jungkook asks, and you blush.

“I think you’re the hottest person who’s ever existed, probably,” you answer honestly. “Please don’t ask more questions, I start to feel queasy whenever I have to express real emotion.”

“Y/n.” Jungkook seems to be rapidly getting over his shock, and a smile starts curling at his lips, and—yeah, you still wanna lick his teeth. Good to know. “I couldn’t possibly be the hottest person who’s ever existed.”

You snort, even though the action grates the back of your nose and throat. “Where’s your evidence?”

Jungkook gently squeezes you. “Right here,” he says.

Your brain desperately scrabbles for purchase in reality, shutting down and then rebooting, internet modem sounds crackling slowly in your head as you try to get to grips with the fact that Jungkook just did that, even though the motion was meant to be tender. Why must your mind be so dirty?

Wait.

Wait, he thinks you’re hot?

“Jungkook, I look like death,” you say, and although you’re ostensibly referring to the fact you’re sick right now (fine, you’ll admit it, you’re sick), it’s more of a general statement.

“You’re gorgeous,” Jungkook says, deadly serious. Your heart flutters. What did you do to deserve this boy?

You’ve still got your faces tilted towards each other, and you can’t help but notice Jungkook’s eyes darting down to your lips. You’ve just started to inch closer to each other when your brain finally snaps back to full capacity and you’re shoving your hand in Jungkook’s face; the clean one, thankfully, not the one covered with biscuit crumbs. Seems like your brain came through.

“I don’t want our first kiss to be in the warehouse at work, when I’m sick,” you say. While that’s true, your heart is pounding in your chest at the idea that Jungkook apparently still wants to kiss you despite the fact you definitely need to blow your nose.

“Okay.” Jungkook’s voice is muffled against your palm. “That’s fair. Can you move your hand? It’s kind of hard to breathe like this.”

“Oh, shit, sorry.” You pull your hand away, and Jungkook takes in a deep breath; you feel how his chest expands and you’re once again reminded of how you’re flush against him. Jesus. “Uh, we should probably get Shortbread out of here before someone catches him.”

Jungkook lets you go so you can coax Shortbread towards one of the fire exits. He holds the door open as you squat down, wishing the pigeon good luck before you say goodbye; when you glance back up at Jungkook you notice the look on his face, open and fond, and your heart does a loop de loop in your chest when you realise that he's been looking at you like this a lot—your brain had just refused to let you notice it for what it is. What the heck.

As Jungkook lets the door shut behind you, you clear your throat. “Um. While I do absolutely want to get coffee with you, can it wait until I’m better? I don’t wanna be all crusty and snotty on our first date,” you say, weirdly shy despite the fact it’s obvious that Jungkook seems to think that you hung the moon. (Which you still don’t understand but you’re not complaining, not at all.)

“Sure.” Jungkook smiles and your heart flip flops in your chest again. The feats of acrobatics your heart achieves when Jungkook around is honestly astounding, but everything he does is just so… adorable. You’re certain that when you see him out of his work uniform and in his regular clothes you’re going to spontaneously combust, but you’ll cross that bridge when you come to it. “I should probably get back to fruit and veg, but, I’ll see you for lunch?”

“Yeah.” You smile helplessly back at him. “Of course. See you at lunch.”

Despite the fact you’re worried about getting him sick, Jungkook really doesn’t care about keeping his distance. When Yoongi walks into the canteen to the sight of you snuggled up to Jungkook and giggling as you feed him his lunch, your friend just rolls his eyes. “Kids these days,” he says, and you stick your tongue out at him.

“You’re just jealous that it’s taken me and Jungkook less time to confess to each other than it’s taken you with Jimin,” you say, and then gasp as you remember something. “Oh, Jungkook, that reminds me! What was that long conversation you were having with Jimin the other week?”

Jungkook flushes. “Uh, he was giving me advice on how to ask you out,” he admits sheepishly. “I wasn’t planning on just blurting it out in the warehouse, but you were being so cute that I couldn’t stop myself?”

You stare into Jungkook’s eyes for a few long moments, before solemnly saying: “Jeon Jungkook, if I wasn’t sick, I would absolutely be kissing you right now.”

“Ugh, please don’t,” Yoongi says. Jungkook buries his head into the material of his work fleece, hiding his embarrassment against your shoulder, and you just laugh.

#jungkook fluff #jungkook oneshot #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenario #bts #bts au #cypherwritersnet #bts fluff #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jeongguk #jeongguk x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook x oc #joy.masterlist

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flymeandtiememaam2 · 3 years ago

Text

I Should Have Left It

“Oh, hello, sir,” Angie the stewardess smiled at me cheerily as I breathlessly mounted the airplane stairs at some pace, “did you forget your bag?” I flashed her an embarrassed smile in return, saying, “I think so, miss,” but inside my mind was raging. How could I have been so stupid in my desperation to get off the flight and get away with it, to have left my small piece of hand luggage, stuffed full of cocaine, with a street value of half a million dollars, behind on my seat? Lined with lead paper, the drugs were stored in a secret compartment, so, despite everything, I figured they would be safe. I followed the young woman gratefully as she led me towards the rear of the plane. “Honestly,” I remarked ruefully, “I’d forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on. Thankyou for saving it for me, ma’am.” Angie led me into the open crew area near the galley and indicated my rucksack, nestling on a seat. My eyes widened in horror. Next to my opened bag were several bags of grade A cocaine! I looked disbelievingly at the now unsmiling stewardess. “How did you - ?” I stuttered. “I had to check it, sir,” Angie replied reasonably, a slight smile returning to her lips, “it might have contained a terrorist device.” My mouth opened and closed. “What happens now?” I asked desperately. Angie pursed her lips. “I’m afraid I have to hand you and your bag over to the police.” the young woman replied matter of factly.

“How did you know I’d come back for it?” I asked Angie bitterly, filled with disappointment at the collapse of my plans as she tied my hands securely behind my back with her uniform scarf. The woman laughed. “I had no idea!” she replied. “I was amazed when I saw you running up the gangway!” I cursed myself for a second time. Angie noticed my head bow in despair as she tightened the last of the bonds around my wrists. “I know, sir,” she said almost apologetically, “you really should have left it!”

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idv-sunsxin3 · 3 years ago

Text

->"L"

Police! Luka Balsa x Mafia! Reader

Art Header by me (if only I can draw like one of NETEASE’ artists-)

Police/Mafia AU {One-Shot} -> Fluff

Reader's gender -> Female

Note-> Requested by @woofahRuu in Wattpad. Kinda struggled to put gender neutral or female- I feel like I made this one-shot like some sort of drama series- Anyway- Happy Birthday, Luca! 🥺✨✨✨

———

“If being this sexy is a crime, you’ll be guilty as charged… Heh ;)”

———

{Second P.O.V.}

2 years before things happened, You were a baroness, the wife of an aristocrat. Your marriage was arranged, so you and your husband respected each other as friends more than a couple. Your spouse was decently known by other nobles in Italy, but he unfortunately died in his sleep for mysterious causes... The detectives were still figuring out at that moment. You sometimes wondered if they found anything about it. However, that no longer mattered to you as you tried to cope with sleeping in an empty bed and keeping your house in good shape.

Days after his death, you found out that he left a lot of debts he made with a mafia group. The mafia was known as The Silicians. They broke in your house that night, their boss threatened you to join them to repay the debts or they'll have to kill you in the spot. You decided to choose the first choice, not willing to die you were merely in your 20's.

—

"Ah...?"

'An S-Tier assault? What are you planning, Big Bam? Kill me this soon?' You thought as you looked at your boss with a blank look.

You gripped on your gloved arm as you crossed your arms in concerned, you never experienced in taking a very dangerous mission. Your boss, Big Bam, usually took your beauty as advantage to complete low-rank missions. You were not a professional worker, your position was merely to get information from people as you seduce them with your 'lady charms'. You believed that you may get yourself caught by armed enemies.

You couldn't object as you see the mafia boss glaring at you, telling you in the eyes that there were no exceptions. After further instructions, you quickly started preparing everything for the night. The attack will be take place at the Gennaro ballroom, the investigation team of the mafia got plenty of intel to learn that there was a big amount of Euros stored in the building. Your task was to distract the customers and the staff with the other people from the distraction group, as the assault squad sneak in from the roof to take the loot. Big Bam’s subordinates couldn’t get a long with one other, they often treat each other harshly… Including you, unfortunately. At least they cooperate with you decently….

You walked pass through the people with a glass of wine, stopping by to talk to other guests and smile at them charmingly to create a facade. Everyone one was well-dressed for the occasion. You secretly count the people that were near you, until you found men with blue uniforms.

["We have company, there are officers guarding the front, the back, and the roof... They seem to have heard the rumors of a potential assault..."]

A fellow worker that was beside you warned the others silently after she followed your gaze toward the armed men. Getting in is hard, but getting out is even harder...

["We will have to get out of the building with force..."]

The assault squad leader, Naib, whispered firmly through the speaker as he made his way to the secured storage room. You two agreed as he have stopped talking. Your partner, Vera, gave you a serious look as she signed you discreetly "distract them, I'll handle the rest."

You looked at her for a moment but nodded a little, you started to approach the police officers that were near you and greeted them with a lovely smile.

"My... buona notte, gentlemen! How are things going?" You gently questioned the two men.

The first officer was a blonde man with golden eyes, he had stitches on his mouth. He was forming a bright smile, but they don't seem to match his tensed, serious eyes. The other officer was a brunette, he was wearing an eyepatch that has a letter "L" on it. He made a mischievous grin, showing his fang as he sees you approaching them. He observed your figure up and down with his half-lifted eye, as if he was interested in what you were up to. He gave you a smile, along with a light nod as an acknowledgment of your presence.

"We can't assure that there are no threats yet, signora. But the patrolling is going smoothly, for now." The eyepatch officer responded.The blonde man nodded as well.

"I see, thank you for your service, officers." You said as you hold your hands together with appreciation, at a lower angle.

The blonde man seemed to grow a little bit of suspicion, but covered it by giving you a small smile as he lifted his hat from his head lightly and placed it back on his head.

"My name is Luca Balsa, signora. My partner over here is Victor Grantz." The brunette stated as he gestures his police companion.

'Luca Balsa? Victor Grantz? They don't seem to be native in here... Interesting.' You thought as you kept your facade. You tried your best to pronounce their names with your second language, Italian accent internally.

"My name is Elizabetta Gallo. It's a pleasant to meet you, officer Balsa, officer Grantz."

You told them your sobriquet as you bowed gently, attempting to hide your old identity from everyone as possible. Hopefully, there was no one here who often saw you everyday when you used to got out of your house for work.

"Elizabetta Gallo.... You seem familiar from somewhere... Have we met before, May I ask?"

Luca asked as he tried to think where he had seeing you before. You quite jinxed it, but you honestly haven't met Luca before. You are good at hiding your appearance during your missions, so everyone sees you as a 'normal' lady.

"Perdonami, I've never seen you before until now." You replied with a sad smile.

"I see... That's alright, signora Gallo. Forgive for making you linger for too long. I hope you enjoy tonight's ball."

"No no, it's not a burden. I merely want to talk with someone. The other guests are quite busy at the moment to talk to me."

Victor noticed the conversation between the two of you and slowly got out of the circle as he went to do his business, not daring to bother you both. You saw him moving in the corner of your eyes, at least his distance from the two of you was not very far as you could still see him through the crowd. You had to make sure that the officers' attention doesn't shift to the exit Naib was planning to evacuate with the rest of the team.

You felt a beep on your ear and turned to Luca with an apologetic smile.

"Mi scusi, officer Balsa. I have a call to attend to."

Luca responded with a nod and a smile as he looked away. You quickly made your way to a corner were no one was around and attended the shell that was on your ear.

Y/N ["Yes?"]

Naib ["Time to get out of here, go to the rooftop exit. The others are waiting."]

You never expected that the conversation was taking too long... However, why did the others got ahead of you and leaving you last...?

You detained yourself from thinking and quickly moved your feet as you heard a loud bang from behind, screams and gasps beginning to be heard from the ballroom. You made your way upstairs to see helicopters waiting in the rooftop. They were leaving one by one as the last flew a little bit lower, waiting for you to get the ladder that is under it.

"Get in!" Vera exclaimed to you from the helicopter's opened window.

You took out your heels and made a run for it. You were about to jump for the ladder, until you felt strong arms gripping around your small waist. Feeling that they were pulling you away from the helicopter, you gasped out of shock. Your eyes felt heavy as the person hit you in a certain spot from behind. Shooting bullets were beginning to fly towards the helicopters.

"Hold still, signora!" A familiar voice ordered you.

"No!" Vera yelled in dismay as the last helicopter flew away from you.

You were trying to lift your hand towards the sight of the helicopter disappearing slowly. Your vision started to go all black as the person was holding your fainted figure carefully.

A blinding light started to shine in front of your face. You slowly opened your eyes as your surroundings seem to dark to know where you are. The only source of light was the lamp that is torturing your poor eyes, showing three silhouettes behind it.

"…Who do you work for?" A voice was heard with an arrogant, impatient tone.

"ANSWER ME!"

The table in front of you was slammed loudly, you slightly jumped at the sudden noise.

"Edgar, I think you're scaring her... She just recently woke up."

A monotone voice was heard from the figure that was next to the person who was yelling at you.

"We need to search for Vic, we still can't start the interrogation without the good cop, bad cop is useless without him- hahaha!"

That voice must be the brunette police you met at the ballroom, and the one who stopped you from escaping.... You can only see their dark figures as your wrists and feet were chained to the chair you were sitting on. You sadly can't cover your vision from the annoying light.

The familiar police's dark figure approached you a little bit, revealing the same uniform from last night as he gave a teasing smile. He didn't seem to show signs of anger nor seriousness.

"Buongiorno, signora. How was your beauty sleep? ;)"

"W-Why am I here...?"

"Don't play dumb, we saw you trying to get in those helicopters that were trying to flee from the crime scene!"

Another figure stepped in from the shadow and walked around the table, revealing another brunette with blue eyes and a bow ponytail. If looks can kill, his glare would al reading have literally burned through your skull. The officer must be 'Edgar', according to the figure who hadn't shown himself yet.

"I won't repeat myself," His voice becomes more colder over the seconds that passed. You could feel the room getting chilly as you look at his crystal eyes.

who do you work for...?"

“….”

"….My apologies, but I’m afraid I cannot tell you." You finally responded blankly as you closed your eyes for a moment. Trying to recollect some of your memories from last night. You’ll get killed by Big Bam if you exposed them and betray them…

Edgar went silent for a moment and leaned on a desk that was near your table.... And he flipped it across the small room.

Which let out a loud, crashing sound.

For a police officer, that man seems to have anger management issues... You sweat dropped internally as you looked at him silently. Luca chuckled at your reaction as he attempted to assure you.

"Do not worry, he's like this to anyone he interrogates. Yet, he never hurts ladies, I swear-"

"Silence is appreciated, Balsa-"

Luca shut his mouth up, but he kept his wide, lazy smile at his companion was still hiding from the shadows. The dark figure approached one of the walls and turned on the lights, revealing his white air and crimson eyes. His face looks tired and passive. Seeing Edgar at the verge of exploding, He began to drag Edgar out of the interrogation room as he consoled the man that Luca will handle you instead.

Luca waved them goodbye and laughed silently. He carefully turned off the lamp that was molesting you, which made you feel quite glad-

"You must be confused why I look so calm about this situation.... Hehehe!"

"... Why?"

As you asked, he stopped laughing for a second. His smile slightly faded as he took a sit across from you. He looked at his hands that were intertwined together in his knees and he looked at you again. As if he attempted to search the right words.

"You once had a husband, right...?"

You widened your eyes slightly, but slowly nodded at him with confusion. You still have no clue what the discussion is leading.

"Your late husband's name is Joseph, the French aristocrat who died in his sleep for unknown reasons..?"

"....!"

By your expression, he already knew your answer.

"I found the reason why."

"What would they be...?"

"...He was committing suicide."

"!!!"

That explains about the pile of debts he couldn't repay, they will only get bigger and bigger... But leaving you behind with all of his responsibilities...? You couldn’t believe it…

You thought he respected you, you thought he was loyal to you as your friend…

As you were thinking about it deeply, you didn’t notice a handkerchief gently rubbing your cheeks as your eyes got blurry. It felt cold as if it got wet. You looked down to see Luca kneeling in front you, as he attempted to wipe the eyeliner stains from your face. He stopped for a moment as he looked at you in the eyes with solemn and care.

“… Where were you all this time,

Y/N Desaulnier…?”

‘That name…’ You failed to stay in your slightly shattered, neutral face as you slowly started to tear up more.

‘That ugly, haunting name…’

Luca was able to hear your breathing itch as you hiccuped. You missed hearing your name very much…

But…

“I-I’m no longer a Desaulnier…”

Luca kept wiping your tears calmly as he attempted to comfort you with a hug and a couple of light pats on your exposed, trembling back. You wished to hug back if only your wrists weren’t chained. As if Luca knew you were facing a lot of danger yourself for a long time, he told you these words:

“Shh… Y/N… Shh..

you’re safe with me.”

___

{One Hour Later…}

“Done with the interrogation, Luka..?” The albino officer, who turned out to be known as Andrew, asked his eyepatch companion as he saw him getting out of the room. He was holding a mug of black tea from his small break time.

Luca nodded and gestured you to get out of the room once you finished calming yourself. You stepped out of the room slowly as you hold Luca’s hand, revealing you with his jacket on your shoulder to provide you warmth.

“We finally found the L/N widow who was missing 2 years ago…

We need to locate The Silician’s whereabouts,

in less than 9 days.”

___

“I still couldn’t get rid of the fact that you were all darn hot that night. Yet, you’re still gorgeous as ever… How come you didn’t got married again?”

“Ah- stop teasing me! ù///ú”

Luca chuckled softly as he adjusted himself in the bed beside you. He leaned his on his arm as he stared at you lovingly. You attempted to button up your gown as you sit in the left side of the bed, despite of feeling flustered under his gaze. You both have gotten together 4 years after Luca and his team successfully arrested Big Bam and his mafia family. It took some time for you to warm up with him and the other police officers that were friends with him. When you got closer enough with each other, that was when Luca finally asked you out and you accepted with a delighted and sincere smile.

“I… I just honestly got busy with the duties and never took interest in anyone…

U-Until I started to get to know you, Luca…”

You finished preparing yourself for bed as you took out your earrings carefully and placed them along with the other sets of earrings Luca bought you for your birthdays. You smiled at the gifts, remembering those lovely memories. As you laid on your bed, Luka wrapped his arms around protectively as he places your head on his chest gently. He nuzzled his chin on your head as he cooed unconsciously through your soft hair.

“I must be very fortunate to meet you, Y/N…”

His statement got you off-guard, but you giggled slightly as you gently punched his chest and embraced him as well.

“No… I am more fortunate to have come to you, Luka…

…I feel more safe when you’re here…”

You closed your eyes. You didn’t want to as you feared that all of these was merely a dream. But feeling Luca’s warm hand rubbing your back in circles reassured you that it was real, so you began to drift off to sleep slowly.

“You’re safe with me, Y/N,

I’ll always make you feel safe.”

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