#so id say its a warning about himself in any case and the way it matches what he said in ep 9..

[decayedsword]

Drawing of Darkness (artist!reader x kc!ronin)

I LOST THE ASK BUT THIS IS FOR AURUM!! HOPING I DIDNT STRAY TOO FAR AWAY FROM UR ASK THIS TIME HEHEHEHE

(i thought id post this in the morning but hey! better late than never :P)

(/j IM SORRY LOL)

Warning for slight depictions of blood/gore, possible obsessive behavior

When you had clicked the ‘accept call’ option, you didn’t expect to be so enamoured by the devil, who peered in his swivel gaming chair, posters decorating the blood-red walls around him. 

You sat there, mouth slightly agape for a few beats, simply taking in the epitome of a painting of a thousand words that was stuck behind a web camera. This was the first time you had ever thought a grotesque serial killer known for fucking up the bodies beyond repair looked beautiful—and as sardonic as it were, he looked like an angel.

Atop his burgundy hair sat a striped gray beanie with two red horns standing tall on the fabric. Piercings adorned his ears, industrial on the left and double lobe on the right. His neck was decorated with a collar imbued with spikes, and a necklace with a sword charm that vaguely resembled a cross. He wore a soft black shirt with a skull graphic on the front, a leather jacket spilling from his elbows. You don’t fail to notice the varying pins he’s stuck onto his clothes to make them feel more like him, giving his clothes his signature edge, as well as the multitude of bracelets that peek out from his sleeve. 

“Aw, don’t tell me you’ve fallen for me already?” 

Ronin’s voice barely snaps you out of the trance he’s put you in. You’re in-and-out of your loops when you two talk over voice call, your eyes piercing into him, trying to capture his essence into the back of your mind. 

You bite your lip and curse yourself internally. There was no scrap paper lying around, and your sketchbook was laying on your bed. Deeming too suspicious to go and get it right now, you decide you’re better off trying to memorize what Ronin looks like. 

When, at last, he ends the video call, you scramble for a mechanical pencil and hit your bed with a loud thump. Your hand moves on its own, drawing quick strokes in an almost-obsessive manner. You draw Ronin with such precision that you can’t comprehend that you just met him 15 minutes ago.

His eyes, his hair, the way he holds himself tried and true, his pride, his ego, his esotericism—you’ve captured it all so perfectly, you’ve captured him so perfectly. 

You need more.

Days, weeks pass and you two talk more often, truths are told and dares are done, and you’ve never gotten a bad case of artist’s block since you’ve seen him. Ronin haunted your every thought. Your sketchbook couldn’t keep up with you, now half-filled with him, ranging from simple doodles to full-on full body drawings. 

It’s become a habit for your hand to move across the page, fleeting yet full with passion, as you watch him through his web camera. Your eyes dart between him and your sketchbook, subconsciously biting your lip whenever figuring out how to portray him in all his rottenness.

“Y’know darl’, if I hadn’t known any better, I’d say you’re a little too quiet right now.” Ronin mutters, eyes half-hooded with a smirk on his face. “Plannin’ my death, aren’t ya? In that little book’a yours?” 

His expression shifts. It’s dark and devious and you can tell he’s expecting a certain answer from you. 

“I’m just bringing you to life, Ronin.” You retort, a small smile on your face. It masks your emotions. He sees right through it.

You hear him chuckle, it’s short-lived, which is a good thing. You’ve surprised him with your answer, kept him on his toes for six months. In this dance with the devil, you two prowl on each other’s every move—every step, every turn and every dip—and if you’re obsessed with him, he returns the favor and adores you with his bleeding heart. 

You’re sure Ronin’s aware of how infatuated you are with him. It’s no secret, especially when he asks you about how your book’s going and he taunts you; rambling about how he’s hacked into your computer and read the copy you sent to your editor, and teases you when the main character’s a little too much like him, sinful and decaying, the devil incarnate.

Uptown has an alley they call Purgatory. Your heartbeat’s erratic in your chest as you turn the junction to enter the deserted lane. It smells heavily like iron, but you don’t shy away from it. The half-empty sketchbook rests under your arm, waiting for a butcher—the Butcher—to spill blood all over its pages.

“So, we meet!” Your head turns to find the voice, the very same voice you’ve been listening to for the past few months, bedeviling your dreams and tainting your pen. Ronin’s just—no, more—he’s more enchanting in real life than he could ever be over video call. 

Your heart stutters in your chest and you stumble over your words, and he laughs, he laughs. 

“D’aw. Devil got your tongue, darling?” he sneers, enclosing you against the stone wall. He’s heavenly, you think to yourself, clutching your sketchbook tighter in your arms. In all his omniscience, Ronin doesn’t miss it.

He whispers, it’s a song for the half-damned—for you. “What’cha got over there? ‘s it a gift, an offering, for me?”

You grit your teeth, and he knows he’s right. “Why did you invite me to the server?” You ask, diverting his attention elsewhere. There’s a need inside you to just observe him a little bit more. This meeting in Purgatory is beneficial, after all. If you got out of here alive, if you played by a serial killer’s rules, you’ve granted yourself Lucifer, deliciously tempting and in all his glory. You two waltz in each other’s palms, waiting to see who offers the forbidden fruit to the other first.

“I did it for you,” began Ronin, body relaxing, “You were starving, so I gave you insatiability.” His eyes are dark, darker than they could ever be. You’re lost in them, a sea of black, the constellation of the Crux in the night sky.

“You wanted inspiration, so I became your muse.” Your eyes follow his finger as Ronin gestures to your sketchbook. He knew. You knew he knew.

He shifts, bringing his face closer to yours, hiding you from the outside world, trapping you in his Garden of Eden. “You wanted love, darlin’, so I gave you love.” 

You don’t wait for him to finish. Your lips crash into his—wanting and wanton, reckless abandon—and he kisses you back, exactly how you wanted him to. The Devil delivered, and who are you to bite the hand that feeds your hunger?

When his hands ghost over the sketchbook, you let them. Gently, he pries it from your arms that had once kept your secret safe. You miss his kiss when he pulls away, but you’re intent on watching him, seeing his expression when he realizes that you two are woven from the same thread, built from the same stone—the similar atrocity of romance.

His back slides against the wall, hitting the ground with a grunt as he sits on the pavement. You do the same, scooching over so your sides are touching. He doesn’t protest when you rest your head on his shoulder.

Ronin flips through the pages. There’s no emotion in his face, a hand over his tightly closed mouth, but you can see it in his eyes, a mix of mutual understanding and complete ecstasy. 

On the page is a full-body drawing of him. Ronin sits on a throne of skulls and bones, his shadow forming devil horns and angel wings. There’s an inscription on the base of the pedestal, read “prince of darkness.”

The next page is a combination of doodles of him. Your hand against his face, cupping his cheeks. His lips kissing your knuckles. The muscles on his back. The look of love in his snark.

When Ronin reaches the current end of the book, he’s met with a twisted illustration. His jaw is open uncharacteristically wide as he holds a human heart above his mouth, ready to devour it. The blood drips all over his face, all over his tongue as he squeezes the organ in his hands. 

He bites his lower lip, running his teeth over it. A shit-eating grin is present on Ronin’s face as he huffs out a small laugh. “Are ya obsessed with me or somethin’?”

You laugh. It mimics his—deranged and sweet, a serial killer’s.

“Aren’t you?”

FINALLY GOT SOMETHING OUT AFTER LIKE A WEEK OF WRITERS BLOCK!! HOPE U GUYS ENJOY!!!

[suzyblue0292]

Rewatch - Dead Boy Detectives S1E1 - The Case of Crystal Palace

We are introduced to Edwin guarding Charles or the boys guardian each other

The bickering

They are time cards not library cards.

Does the show often say one thing and show another? REVISIT

“Death will take us” v Death asking Wilfred if he is ready

The boxing scene is interesting given everything we learn about Edwin later - getting out of hell couldn’t have been easy he has to have more skill than Charles gives him credit for - or they want the audience to give him less credit

You are the brawn? - I feel like they want us to doubt the narrative. 

We are presented with Crystal as a good person. (Aside from being American apparently). Again we are being told one thing so we are blindsided by the other. 

The looks on the boys' faces when they observe Crystal. 

We never see them as relaxed looking as they are in the office again. 

Edwin knows how to knit.

Was there a debate over the disguises?

She has her purse and phone. Does the memory loss prevent her from reading her contacts/ID?? 

Charles does not hesitate to call Edwin on his BS - he also knows that Edwin is jealous (just not the exact nature of said jealousy) - but he said it himself during the boxing scene - he knows Edwin hates change - and the very first thing we see him doing in the next scene is defending Edwin to Crystal

This is also how we learn about the “Clerical error” - is this the extent of Charles’ knowledge or the best way he has to explain it?

We start to see the meaner side of Crystal but Charles' good nature still acts a deterrent from following that to a conclusion.

Charles’ admits that part of the reason its so good to talk to Crystal is because she’s living and his age - they probably don’t meet a huge amount of teenage ghosts - although I would guess they might have more unfinished business than most - I have a feeling its the living part that’s the biggest appeal

What is Edwin doing with the coffee??

Why are you warning Edwin about the cleaver, Charles? 

Crystal is carrying a considerable amount of cash - but no cards?

Edwin gets them a clue quickly through mirror travel. - The Cat King and his little bracelet are quite the plot devices. 

Why so rude to the cat Charles?

Also did the Crow not tip off the whole witch thing?

Crystal seems so young and vulnerable when she realizes the girls are staring.

Crystal’s mind is so desolate - all the broken picture frames - empty memories - the three eyeballs should have given it away though - “the third eye”

We know they can travel by mirror, and the normal way, but can ghosts travel through ether? How do they get in front of Crystal?

Poor Charles, no it’s not a competition but Crystal and Edwin are both terrified in their own right.

Every demonic case must be a nightmare for Edwin and now he realizes they didn’t get rid of the demon. He only knows how to express his fear in terms of case work though. 

The flashback: Simon is so clearly reaching out, but Edwin is so clearly expecting to be bullied. And the shot of him marching against the flow of other students, bless.

Its also so heartbreaking that Edwin is terrified BEFORE there is any sign the demon sacrifice will work. God only knows what he thought those boys would do. 

Five other boys died with Edwin and it seems like Sa ’al obliterates their bodies. Was there anything for the school to give the parents to bury? Just ashes? No wonder it was deemed an act of God. Six boys either vanished or reduced to ashes. 

And no wonder the memory drives Edwin to recklessness. 

Jenny laying down the hard truth. 

“I get angry. It's like knowing you have a home but being unable to get there.” Poster child speaks to poster child.

Yeah, I totally thought Niko was going to be the love interest.

Why never tell Edwin? Because he really can’t go home?

I try to be extra happy for all of us. - Oh Charles.

And now the boy who was dragged to hell learns that Crystal chose her demon. Ouch.

Edwin isn’t just yelling at Crystal. He’s reminding Charles too. “You are sharp and fun, but this isn’t a game.”

They are such vulnerable children, and then so cute as they plot.

Poor Jenny. She doesn’t doesn’t even get paid teacher’s wages for this shit.

Edwin does a good job of actually telling Crystal the stakes with the plastic girl bit. She  might be cottoning on. 

Charles is comforting Crystal, but holding Edwin.

Note that Charles doesn’t roll his eyes or dispute “and we’re punishing you.” After Edwin’s outburst and Crystal’s confession his loyalties seem to have tipped back a bit.

Why doesn’t it trip Edwin that Esther left her kettle on? It worried me from word go.

Again, Charles is the brawn but Edwin is the one checking out the weird witch’s lair.

So many fucking shoes.

I love Esther. I know I shouldn’t but….

Can Charles actually understand the Crow?

Edwin has such poor form, but he does as well as Charles when it comes down to it.

Round 1 of Esther underestimating Crystal

Edwin goes straight to help Crystal, despite his concern for Charles possessing Esther. 

Okay was anyone else expecting that kid to get mowed down crossing the street?

Oh Charles, counting your chickens to soon is a bad idea.

It’s interesting that Charles possessing someone sets off an alarm for them both - this must not be the first time they’ve tangled with the afterlife for them to have a joint file.

[sunonyoreface]

One Cot - Simon “Ghost” Riley

Hi there, this story is a one shot about Simon Riley. I haven’t played COD before and I don’t know much about his character, but I love the thought of tough men being soft.

Summary: You help Ghost on a cold night and he returns the favour.

Word count: 2398

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: none, fluff.

Crews like task force 141 aren’t the type to pack extra cots. They don’t need them. Because crews like 141 don’t make a habit of bringing home extra bodies. There’s only ever one scenario when they have extra cots. Luckily for them, tonight’s not one of those nights.

For me, however, that means another night on the floor with my ankle cuffed to the bottom of one of their cots in case I try to run.

 Although I’m deemed non-violent, I’m also a flight risk. According to them at least.

 According to me, I have no clue where we are or how I’d even survive away from them. I’ve got no money, no ID, no map or compass, or even the slightest clue how I’d escape. Regardless, the cuffs stay on.

 My wrists face the same fate. But my hands are free enough to rake them through my damp hair, working them through the tangles. It’s a soothing feeling of normalcy in this strange place.

 In his cot on the other side of the room, Soap waits for one of the other boys to return from the showers and trade off babysitting duty.

 One thing I can say is that chivalry is not dead, because they allowed me to shower first. Not that it matters all that much. There’s no hot water anyway so there isn’t much of a benefit in going first. But it’s the thought that counts.

 Ghost is the first one back. It’s strange not seeing him wear layers upon layers of tactical gear. Instead, he only wears dark jeans and a black henley. And the balaclava too. I’ve yet to see him take it off. I wouldn’t be surprised if he showered with it on. I don’t know that the other guys have seen him take it off either. They make comments sometimes, little jabs and jokes about how it never comes off. Ghost hardly notices though. Or maybe I should say hardly reacts. He’s stoic through it all, preventing any emotions from breaking through.

 Soap leaves without a word. They understand their positions. So well, that half the time I think they’re communicating through their thoughts.

 Ghost places a duffel bag on the cot I’m cuffed to. I sit cross-legged on a blanket on the floor as he ruffles through it.

 His strong form towers over me two feet away. Ghost doesn’t make eye contact as I watch him search through the bag. He’s less threatening without the bulky gear and a gun in his hand. But that mask is still terrifying enough to find its way into your dreams.

 However, it's not the mask that sets me on edge around Ghost, it’s his eyes. They’re cold and unwavering, giving away nothing. They’re the eyes of a killer. Of someone who enjoys inflicting pain. Of someone whose been in so much pain himself, his only release is passing it on to others.

 He hasn’t bothered me that much since my first day with them all. Back when he was ready to put me down like a lame horse. I was a loose end that needed to be tied up. Still am, if I’m being honest. Price stopped him, but if it was up to Ghost, I’d have been dead for days now. Even now, I’m sure part of him wants to kill me knowing it’s the more logical option. But until then, he’s under orders to keep me alive.

 “Anyone ever tell you that you’ve got a staring problem?” His rough voice breaks the silence. He rarely acknowledges me so for him to speak up must mean I’ve struck a nerve. My mouth suddenly feels dry.

 “Just you,” I say. “Sorry.”

 But I don’t look away. I continue to watch him search through the bag. I don’t know what he’s looking for but he can’t seem to find it. The tight sleeves of the Henley hug his strong arms. Even through the fabric, I can see the defined lines of his muscles. His posture is nearly perfect and his movements could almost be considered robotic.

 “What’re you looking for?” He doesn’t seem like the type of person to misplace his things.

 “Nothing,” he responds bluntly.

 “Maybe it fell behind the cot. I can check for you?” I offer.

 “Negative.”

 “Are you sure beca-“

 “Stop talking, y/n,” he snaps. I flinch at his response. As he says this he finally makes eye contact with me and I regret ever looking at him. There’s an anger in his eyes that no man I’ve ever met has been able to match. A deep-rooted hatred for the world and all of its inhabitants. It’s not a look that you’re born with. It’s one that’s carved from years of pain and betrayal. He’s witnessed the type of things that would break most people. The intensity of his gaze is too much. I break eye contact to stare at the floor.

 Fine. I won’t try to help.

 I lean against the cement wall and try to think about anything else. I press my hands to the inside of my thighs in an attempt to warm them up.

 When they found me I was only in ripped shorts and a ratty tank top with nothing else to my name.

 Since then some of the men spared me a set of long johns, a long sleeve shirt, and a pair of thick socks. I’m not allowed shoes in case I try and take off. It’s better than what I had but the warehouse is cold and the cement floor seems to suck out any heat my body produces.

 Ghost angrily zips up the duffel bag and tosses it on the floor at the other end of the cot. I watch the bag skid for a foot before finally coming to a stop.

 He climbs onto the cot with a dissatisfied grunt. Ghost sleeps with his head on the far side of the cot and his feet at the end I’m cuffed to. He doesn’t take his shoes off. None of them do. In fact, I’m surprised he isn’t sleeping with more gear on. Some days they’ll all sleep in their tactical gear as if they’re waiting to be attacked. Part of me is relieved they don’t feel as though that’s a threat tonight.

 I can hear voices echo down the halls. Some of the others must be done in the showers.

 I lie down on my makeshift bed: a pillow and a blanket that I fold in half to act as a mattress and duvet.

 When I lie down, however, something shiny catches my eye under Ghost’s cot.

 It’s a tiny chain. A necklace.

 On my hands and knees, I crawl under his cot to grab the necklace.

 “What’re you doing?” Ghost mumbles above me. I hear him shift his weight against the rough canvas fabric.

 When I back out from under the cot, he’s sitting with his legs off the edge. Suspiciously eyeing my movements. His right hand is in one of his pant pockets probably wrapped around a knife in case I try something.

 I kneel in front of the bed beside his legs. My damp hair clings to my neck and the tip of my nose is red and cold.

 I raise the chain up to Ghost. His eyes latch on immediately.

 “Is this it?” I ask. He eyes me suspiciously. I see him searching for any signs of deceit. Maybe I lied to him and hid the chain from him. Maybe I pickpocketed him before he went to shower. But I didn’t do any of those things. I hold his eye contact this time. His brows soften ever so slightly. It seems to be enough.

 Ghost doesn’t say anything. Instead, he simply grabs the chain from my hand. His fingers brush against my palm as he scoops it up. He examines it a moment before slipping it over his neck and tucking it under his shirt.

 I don’t know why but I was hoping for a thank you. Or at least an acknowledgment that I’d helped. But Ghost remains silent. At the same time, the voices reach the room. Roach and Gaz round the corner from the hallway.

 At their entrance, I turn back to my makeshift bed and pretend to sleep. It’s not that I don’t like them - although I don’t, in fact, I don’t like any of them - but I don’t have the energy for more questions from them tonight.

 I hear Ghost shift in his cot and it seems our thoughts are on the same track.

 As hard as I try, sleep doesn’t come. They shut off the main lights over an hour ago, yet I still haven’t calmed down enough to drift off. It doesn’t help that I can’t stop shivering from the cold.

 The warehouse remains utterly silent except for the light snores and breathing of the men. Only the emergency lights fill the corners of the room with dim, orange light. They’re almost comforting in a way.

 I pull the single blanket tighter around my shoulders and ball up even smaller if that’s possible, but nothing helps. My bones shake and my teeth rattle. If only I had another blanket.

 The cot next to me creaks as Ghost shifts in his sleep. It creaks some more and then I notice he’s sitting up.

 Ghost spares a glance in my direction as he rummages through his pocket for something.

 Something silver glints in the light and I realize it’s a key. He wordlessly tosses it in my direction and by some stroke of luck, I catch it mid-air.

 It’s the key to the cuffs. I spare an uneasy glance in his direction. He wants me to uncuff myself?

 Ghost doesn’t react. Instead, he watches as I process my thoughts, as I push through my weariness and unlock my ankles first before freeing my wrists.

 I reach to pass the key back to him but instead of grabbing the key, his large hand wraps completely around my wrist and tugs me in close.

 I’m face to face with him as his other hand wraps around my jaw so I can’t pull away.

 “If you try to run, I’ll kill you,” his low voice is barely above a whisper. The edge to his tone makes the threat feel all the more real.

 “Okay,” I nod in response. My heart is racing and I feel the blood rush to my cheeks.

 “Come here. Bring your blanket,” he motions to the cot. I spare a glance at the narrow bed. Surely he doesn’t want to share it with me? There’s barely enough room for one person let alone two.

 “I don’t know,” I whisper back as though it’s an option. I don’t know where he’s going with this suggestion and I don’t think I trust him.

 “That’s an order, y/n,” his response does nothing to ease my soul, but I grab my blanket anyway and crawl onto the cot.

 It’s now he notices my hesitancy. How I purposely leave space between us on the bed. That I’m unsure of why he wants me up here. The fogginess of his intentions.

 “I can't sleep with the sound of your teeth rattling in my ears all night,” nothing changes in my expression so he tries again, his tone softer this time. “You’re safe, y/n. I’m safe. Nothing’s going to happen.”

 I sigh in relief but don’t say anything in response. He knows.

 “C’mere,” he lifts the blanket for me to slide in. The warmth immediately welcomes me into the space.

 The cot is more narrow than a twin mattress and leaves little to no wiggle room for two people. I’m pressed tightly into Ghost's chest as his arm wraps around my waist, pulling me closer and preventing me from falling off.

 I thought I’d be tense but the heat under the blankets completely relaxes me. I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck. His balaclava is soft against my cheek. I hear his breathing pick start to pick up. I can feel his chest expand deeper than before.

 “Thank you,” my voice is barely audible, but I know he heard.

 As I adjust to our proximity, I breathe in the scents that linger on his skin and in his clothes. I can smell the same standard citrusy shampoo on him as myself and the rest of the crew use. But there’s also a remainder of smoke and gunpowder from the day’s work. There’s something else more unique to him and yet I can’t put my finger on it. I take a deep breath and allow myself to revel in the calming smells. This shouldn’t be comforting and yet it is.

 Nothing about this situation should be comforting and yet I feel safer than I have in weeks.

 Wrapped in Ghost's arms, I know nothing else in the world can get to me. My only danger is the man who holds me. Yet I know in this instance after he’s sacrificed his space and his bed for me, that I’ve got nothing to worry about.

 Ghost shifts against the canvas again. This time pulling me on top of him as he spreads out across his cot. He wraps his arms around my back he readjusts for the final time. I feel so small on top of him. Ghost spreads a hand out across my lower back and it feels as though it takes up the entire width of the space. His thumb soothingly brushes back and forth along the arch of my spine.

 I lay my head on his chest and listen to the thrum of his heart. It beats strong and steady like a bass drum. I feel myself relaxing even more as my breathing starts to match his. I feel myself start to drift as my head lulls with his chest when it rises and falls.

 For the first time in a long time, I don’t worry about what tomorrow brings. I’m so content in his arms that I don’t think about what’s next. All that fills my mind is the strength of his heartbeat and the distant scent of gunpowder. The last thing I think about before finally nodding off is the feeling of his thumb brushing up and down along my back, letting me know everything is going to be alright.

Edit+A/N: I have never received this much attention on a story before so thank you!! When I have time should I write more for Ghost?

Fic based on this concept:

[sebscore]

part 2 to the Ollie x leclerc!reader where she’s at an f3 race watching her brother and Ollie

HER BAKU BEAU

pairings: charles leclerc x sister!reader / ollie bearman x leclerc!reader / arthur leclerc x sister!reader / lorenzo leclerc x sister!reader 

warnings: swearing. francesco is made up lol.

author’s note: lol yall know I had to write about this weekend, cause charles + ollie absolutely carried!! its not a f3 race, but im sure this is good as well :)

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''I can't believe mum let me go.'' Y/N told Ollie over the phone, sitting almost alone in the airport lounge as she waited for her plane to start boarding. 

She could hear her boyfriend chuckle on the other side. ''I'm grateful for her, though. You're gonna see me race tomorrow.'' His excited tone put a smile on her face, touched that he was so happy to see her. 

''I just can't miss any of it; you got pole, charles got pole- I just have to be there!'' 

It had been a task convincing her mother to let her go to the Grand Prix, usually only going when it was during school breaks or if it was in Monaco, Italy or France. However, Charles' pole position and the fact that she didn't have school on Monday had helped her case immensely, and Pascale agreed to let her attend the GP. 

The youngest Leclerc was instructed by her mother to listen to her brothers no matter what- something Arthur was definitely going to abuse- but aside from that, she had trust in her daughter and knew she wouldn't do anything reckless or dangerous. 

''It was the craziest lap, I swear!'' Ollie exclaimed, recalling the chaos that was his final lap after damaging his car. ''It could have gone so wrong.'' 

''Yeah, but it didn't! It was perfect, you were perfect.'' Y/N smiled. 

''Thank you, darling.'' 

The term of endearment had blood rushing to her cheeks, she glanced around the lounge and hoped no one noticed her flustered state. ''You're welcome.'' 

''I can hear you blushing.'' Ollie laughed. 

Little Leclerc scoffed. ''I am not! I'm not blushing.'' She lied, pressing her palm to her cheek as a way to cool herself down. 

''You are! It's okay, I'm your boyfriend. I'm supposed to make you blush.'' The Brit said, matter-of-factly. 

'Your boyfriend'

They had been together for about 6 months yet she still wasn't used to Ollie referring to himself as her boyfriend. Not in a bad way, in a 'this feels like a dream and I'm going to wake up any minute'-way. 

''This is the pre-boarding call for flight 91B to Baku. We are now inviting any passengers requiring special assistance to begin boarding at this time. Please have your identification and boarding pass ready.'' The monotone female voice announced over the speakers. 

''Hey, Ollie. I have to go board now.'' Y/N was still underage so she fell under the 'special assistance' category. ''I'll see you tomorrow, alright?'' She bid him goodbye. 

''Yeah, let me know when you've landed.'' It wasn't late in Azerbaijan, but she could recognize the fatigue in Ollie's voice. 

''You'll be sleeping, though.'' She chuckled, knowing she would arrive quite late in the evening and that the Prema driver would be getting the much needed sleep for his sprint race tomorrow. 

He shrugged his shoulders. ''So? I know it will like unconsciously make me feel assured that you landed safely.'' He reasoned, his explanation warming her heart. 

''You really are a charmer, huh?'' Y/N got up from her seat and grabbed her suitcase, moving to the right gate. 

She could hear a small laugh on the other side. ''If you say so.'' 

''I'm going to board now- I'll see you tomorrow, bye bye!'' 

''Can't wait! Bye, love!'' And with that the couple ended their call. 

Before pulling her boarding pass and ID out of her bag, she sent a quick text to their sibling group chat. Since she was travelling on her own, Lorenzo wanted her to give as many updates as she could. 

| Little Leclerc: boarding now, will text when we take off x 

| Thur Thur: don't die 🙂

| Enzo TL: Have a safe flight! See you soon, chérie! X 

| Enzo TL: Arthur, be nice! 

| Charlito: safe flight, bébé :) ❤️

| Charlito: tell the staff if you need anything!! 

| Thur Thur: she's 17, not 7 😒

| Enzo TL: you are the only one acting like a 7 year-old! 😙

''He's on pole again!'' The atmosphere in the Ferrari garage was out of this world as Charles took the pole position in the sprint shootout. Everyone clapped and was thrilled the Monégasque was able to retain the top position. 

Andrea urged Y/N to follow him to Parc Fermé with some of the other Scuderia crew to celebrate another pole position for her brother behind the fence. 

''Charlie!'' The voice of his sister grabs his attention and he made his way over to the youngest Leclerc and his trainer. Charles pulled her into a hug, kissing the side of her head. ''Two pole positions!'' She said, holding up two fingers. 

''I didn't think we would be able to pull that off.'' Charles sighed, putting his bracelets on that Andrea handed to him. 

They nodded at him, understanding his doubt. ''But you did it! Now we have to get ready for the sprint and push as much as we can.'' His trainer encouraged him, wanting Charles to be as positive as possible.  

''Cha, I think you have to go do your interview.'' Y/N pointed behind him, seeing the F1TV staff waiting for the Ferrari driver. 

Charles let out a deep breath, not in the mood and just wanting to prepare himself for the sprint race. ''I'll be right back.'' He begrudgingly turned around and walked over to the interviewer and cameraman, still politely greeting them. 

Y/N tried focusing on Charles as he spoke to the woman, but Andrea lightly pushed her shoulder with his. She glanced at him in confusion. ''What?'' 

''For F2- which garage are you going to?'' 

She scoffed at the question, a shy smile forming on her lips. ''You're really asking me that?'' 

The Italian shrugged his shoulders. ''I'm curious.'' The teasing smirk on his face was evidence that it was more than simple curiosity. 

''I'm going to Thur's garage.'' She answered, looking down at her shoes. 

She'd had this exact conversation with Lorenzo the night before in the car. Although, it was a bit more serious than the one she was having with Andrea at the moment. 

Her and Ollie had agreed to keep their relationship private for as long as circumstances allowed it. They were both aware certain fans could get a little crazy and Y/N already received hate comments for simply being Charles' sister, something she couldn't exactly control. 

So, showing up at the Prema Racing garage wouldn't exactly be ''low key'' as Enzo had explained it to her. 

''He won't say it, but Thur really wants you in his garage.'' Her older brother told her while driving back to their hotel. ''He really likes Ollie, but you're his sister, you know? I think if you would stand with the Prema's, he would think that you're not rooting for him.'' 

Y/N understood what he meant, and deep down she knew it was more important to stand on Arthur's side. Her brother might tease and annoy her, but he deeply loves her and her support means everything to him. 

The sudden reappearance from Charles brought her back to the present. 

''Here,'' he put the cap he had been given on her head, ''you can have it.'' It was obvious he wasn't a fan of the beglittered cap that functioned as a prize for winning the sprint shootout. 

''Thanks, I guess.'' Y/N chuckled. 

Charles patted her head. ''Maybe you should start heading to the F2 paddock, you don't want to be late.'' 

''Francesco is taking me later.'' His sister answered. Francesco was part of the Scuderia Ferrari crew, but also worked with the FDA drivers. He had offered to take Y/N with him to the DAMS garage since he had to check up on both Arthur and Ollie. 

Her brother nodded. ''Good, don't want you to get lost again.'' He teased, jokingly rolling his eyes at the reminder of Silverstone last year. 

''Hey! That was Arthur's fault, he shouldn't have left me alone.'' She defended herself, not liking the implication that she had gotten lost by herself while it was Arthur that had decided to leave her all by herself in the Prema hospitality. 

Charles smirked at her. ''You got a boyfriend out of it, didn't you? You should be a little more grateful to Arthur.'' 

Y/N slapped her brother's arm, much to the amusement of the Ferrari crew and nearby lurking reporters, their cameras capturing the moment between the siblings. 

Charles glimpsed at something behind her, pointing his finger. ''Francesco's there, I'll see you later, okay?'' He pulled his sister in a quick hug again, bidding her goodbye. 

''Bye, Cha!'' 

The walk to the F2 paddock and garages wasn't too long and the good weather made it more enjoyable as well. She knew Francesco from when Charles joined the academy so they were well acquainted with one another. 

While making their way to the DAMS garage, Y/N and Francesco pass the Prema one. The youngest Leclerc slowed down, confusing the older man next to her as he had no idea about the relationship between her and Ollie. 

The feeling of disappointment sneaked up on her when Ollie wasn't in sight. She'd hoped she would be able to get a glimpse of him before the sprint race started, not having seen him for a few weeks now. 

However, his dad and trainer noticed her. David and Jamie nodded their heads, subtly greeting her. Y/N reciprocated the action, happy she at least got to see part of his team. 

Once she arrived at the French team's camp, she was met by Lorenzo warming Arthur up for his race. ''Took you long enough.'' Arthur joked, almost missing the ball that his older brother dropped out of his hand. 

''I wish I had one of those electric steps, they'd really help me out.'' She said, sitting down on one of the empty chairs. 

Francesco shook hands with both brothers. ''I'll take over, Enzo.'' The Monégasque nodded in appreciation and handed over the tennis balls to the older man, and sat down next to his sister. 

''Nice hat.'' He snickered, resulting in Y/N rolling his eyes at him. ''So, uh, you've seen Ollie yet?'' Lorenzo asked, whispering the last part of his question. 

The youngest Leclerc sibling shook her head. ''No, we passed by Prema, but I only saw his dad and Jamie.'' She explained to him. 

Lorenzo nodded along to her words. ''He did really good yesterday, getting pole with a damaged car and a steering wheel that's not hanging right- absolutely crazy!'' 

Y/N beamed at her brother's small summary of Ollie's amazing qualifying from the day before, delighted he had nothing but nice words for her boyfriend. ''I know! I watched it during recess, I was like, trying not to start yelling.'' 

''I can imagine,'' her older brother smiled, ''but you're here for your brother now, okay? So don't start screaming for Prema when you're in the DAMS garage.'' His tone turned more serious, almost sounding like he was scolding the young girl. 

''Of course. I'm happy to be here, Enzo.'' She shrugged his words off, understanding what he was trying to tell her. 

He simply nodded and focused himself back on the other youngster. ''I think it's time to get in the car, Tutur.'' Lorenzo told Arthur who sighed, but gave himself an encouraging nod. 

Before walking over towards his engineer, the youngest brother stopped next to his sister. ''I know I'm starting behind your boyfriend, but root for me, okay?'' Arthur pointed at himself, as if solidifying that she's there for him. 

Y/N gave him a side hug. ''You really think I would come all the way here to not support you?'' Her brother's words surprised her, Arthur wasn't usually the one to explicitly ask for her support. 

''Merci, bébé,'' a soft smile found its way to the Monégasques' face, ''okay, bye now.'' Arthur pinched her side, causing his sister to pull away from him in annoyance. 

''I was worried you two actually got along for a second.'' Lorenzo commented, holding both of his siblings' shoulders and moving them to the garage. 

''LECLERC LOST IT AS WELL!'' The commentary of Alex Brundle sounds as Arthur retired from the race, almost crashing into the wall. Y/N let out a deep breath as he stepped out of his car, relieved her brother seemed visibly not in pain. 

She took a glance at the leaderboard and saw Ollie overtaking Frederic before the safety car was called. A soft smile planted itself on her face, before it was wiped away by the sight of the disappointed mechanics as their two drivers didn't finish the race. 

While they waited for Arthur to get back, Y/N and Lorenzo followed the remainder of the sprint race which finished under the safety car, and Ollie took his first win of the season. 

The young girl was over the moon for her boyfriend, knowing how much the first three races had let him down. However, the way Arthur stormed passed her and Lorenzo didn't give her enough time to enjoy the moment. 

''Arthuro, calm down!'' Lorenzo told his younger brother, not a fan of the defeated Arthur that sat in front of him. 

His hands went through his hair, his behaviour screaming frustration. ''I fucked up! Why did I fucking stay behind Théo?'' He muttered to himself. 

''There was a lot going on, you just got distracted.'' Y/N tried comforting him. The restart had been absolute chaos, a total of 6 cars retiring from the race. 

Arthur's head shot up at her words. ''That's the thing! I shouldn't have gotten distracted!'' 

''Hey! Pipe down, okay? No need to be yelling at your sister.'' Lorenzo argued, not a fan of his agitated tone and loud voice. 

The driver loudly sighed, but mumbled a quiet ''sorry''. He took a few more moments to calm himself down, before glimpsing at his sister. ''Shouldn't you go celebrate your boyfriend?'' 

The usual teasing Arthur momentarily came back, a small smirk hanging on his lips. ''I want to be here with you, Thur.''  

His gaze softened at his sister's sweetness. Arthur didn't say anything further, simply reaching his arms out for her and pulling her into a hug. ''I hate it when you're nice to me.'' 

''Don't lie, you bimbo.'' Y/N chuckled, not letting the hug last long due to his sweating. ''Please, take a shower- you smell.'' She pushed her brother away. 

''Alright, alright.'' 

| ollie 🧸: fred and his team are gone :) 

| ollie 🧸: just me, dad and jamie 

| y/n ❤: 5 minutes x

She wanted to slap the teasing smiles off of her brothers’ faces as she bid them goodbye. ''If you're not at the exit on time, I'm personally knocking that door down and dragging you back home.'' Lorenzo semi-threatened her, a lame attempt at making a stern face. 

''Yeah, yeah. I'll be there.'' Y/N promised her brother, quickly making her way out of the door and to her boyfriend's driver room. 

All of the F2 team rooms were on the same floor so it didn't take her long to arrive at the Prema room. She knocked three times and opened the door. 

The three men inside glanced up from their phone, the youngest one immediately standing up and taking a few big steps towards her. ''Hey!'' Ollie engulfed her in a hug, his head resting on her shoulder. 

''Congratulations, race winner!'' Y/N giggled, rubbing his back. 

''It was fucking crazy-''

''Language, Oliver.'' David interrupted him, reminding his son that he needed to drop the swearing. 

Ollie rolled his eyes. ''Sorry, dad,'' he apologised, his cheeks colouring red, ''it was really really crazy- like suddenly a bunch of cars were out and I was in P2. I knew the safety car was coming out so I quickly overtook Fred and-'' 

''Ollie, breathe.'' His girlfriend interrupted his rambling, watching him getting out of breath as his chest went up and down at a fast pace. 

The Prema driver looked taken aback, but nodded his head and took a deep breath. ''Yeah, anyway- it was amazing. I hope Arthur's okay, though.'' He had seen how his former teammate didn't finish, but wasn't aware of the circumstances. 

''Yeah, he just got distracted by the entire mess and couldn't get out of it.'' Y/N explained to them, pouting at the reminder of her brother's DNF. 

The three of them nodded. ''That happens sometimes, it was indeed a mess.'' Jamie sympathised. 

''Here,'' Ollie grabbed her shoulder and pointed at the chair he was previously sitting on, ''sit down, sit down.'' He gently guided her forward to sit down. 

Y/N swiftly shook her head. ''No, no. You just did a race, I'll stand- it's not a problem.'' 

The gears in the young man's head seemed to stop working as he simply stared at her, not expecting her to refuse the seat and offer it to him. ''Uh, no, I- uh…'' Ollie stuttered. 

''You know what, kids? We have to go do something so behave in here, alright?'' David interrupted his son once again, sensing an awkward moment coming up and wanting to save him from that. 

His dad and Jamie got up from their seats and moved out of the driver's room, his trainer sending him a wink before closing the door. 

The couple slowly found each other's eyes, bursting out in laughter once they were sure the two men were gone. ''He's so embarrassing, I swear.'' Ollie sighs, taking his dad's original seat. 

''At least they left us alone- Enzo would rather die than leave the two of us alone.'' Y/N retorted, sitting down on Ollie's chair. 

The Brit laughed at her words, despite knowing it was 100% the truth. ''Yeah, I guess- anyway, I'm happy you're here.'' A soft smile formed on his face and he grabbed her hand that laid on the armrest. 

The Monégasque mirrored his expression. ''Me too. I really missed you.'' She squeezed his hand, sending a wink his way. 

''I missed you too. These last weeks have been hectic and as much as I love our Facetimes- it's been really hard not seeing you in person.'' He confessed. 

Ollie didn't want to make her feel bad about all the time they've spent apart the last weeks. Their schedules simply never seemed to align. When he had days off, she was busy with school and when she wasn't studying, he had to train or compete. 

Y/N pouted at his words. ''It's been hard for me too. My brothers see you more than I do,'' she teased, ''but I'm here now.'' The young girl smiled at her boyfriend. 

''Yeah, I'm really happy about that.'' Ollie intertwined their hands, less shy about showing affection now that they were alone. 

''So you're planning on doing a clean sweep or what?'' Y/N chuckled, remembering he had been first in every session during the ongoing weekend. 

The Prema driver shook his head, chuckling as well. ''The team has been doing so great this weekend- it would be nice to take the win tomorrow and it would be even better if you could come watch me on the podium…'' He trailed off, a sneaky look on his face. 

''You know people will talk about it if I show up there and Thur isn't on the podium.'' She told him, carrying a doubtful expression. 

Ollie nodded, understanding her concerns. ''Yeah and for all I know, I might not even end up on the podium so maybe we're worrying over nothing.'' He mumbled the last bit under his breath, the possibility of something going wrong clouding his mind. 

Y/N noticed and shuffled her chair closer to him. ''Hey,'' her hand cupped his cheek, ''you're gonna win tomorrow, like- don't tell Arthur this- but you're owning everyone right now.'' 

Her boyfriend chuckled at her words, his loving gaze settling on her. ''This weekend has just been so perfect… I don't know, you've seen my luck so far this season. I'm just scared that something is gonna go wrong.'' Ollie confided in her, voicing the thoughts in his head. 

''Nothing will go wrong tomorrow! You put a damaged car on pole, Ollie!'' She laughed, gently pushing his shoulder. ''You're gonna do amazing and you're gonna make history.'' 

''You seem to have a lot of fate in me.'' Ollie smirked, his girlfriend's words making him feel better about himself and his race tomorrow. 

Y/N teasingly rolled her eyes. ''If you don't like it, I can go and support someone else- what's his name again, Zane?'' She pretended to want to support his rival instead of him, knowing it would annoy him. 

''Hey! Not fair!'' Ollie exclaimed, lightly giving her arm a tap. ''Me and Arthur are the only people you should support. Not the Barbados boy.'' He whined to her, trapping her in a hug. 

The girl laughed into his neck, happy to get such a response out of her boyfriend. The couple stayed like that for a little while, enjoying each other's company and appreciating the time they were spending together. 

''Bear, what time is it?'' Y/N asked him, suddenly remembering her promise to Lorenzo. 

Ollie pulled out his phone from his pocket. ''Uh, 17:08.'' He answered, putting it back. 

''Shit! I have to go.'' Her loud reactions to his words made him flinch as she jumped up from his arms. ''I promised Enzo I would be at the exit in like 2 minutes or he would bust down the door.'' She explained hastily upon seeing Ollie's puzzled face. 

''He's not gonna break the door.'' The Brit snickered before glancing at his girlfriend's serious expression. ''Alright, he might break down the door. I'll see you later.'' He pecked her cheek, swallowing down his disappointment she had to go already. 

''Don't forget we're getting ice cream later!'' She reminded him of their little date later in the evening. 

''No, no! I'll be there!''

''You better, Bearman!'' 

''OLIVER BEARMAN WHO WON THE SPRINT RACE YESTERDAY AND NOW HE LOOKS UP AND SEES THE CHEQUERED FLAG AS THE WINNER OF THE FEATURE! OLIVER BEARMAN DOES THE DOUBLE IN BAKU! WHAT A WEEKEND FOR THE BRITISH DRIVER!'' 

Y/N had a hard time to not freak out and start screaming as she watched her boyfriend do something no one F2 driver had done before, not even her own brother had been able to do it 6 years before. 

Lorenzo took a glance at his sister next to him, noticing the obvious joy on her face. 

He nudged her shoulder. ''He did great, didn't he?'' Her oldest brother whispered, an unfeigned smile present. 

She shyly looked at him, glancing down at her shoes. ''Yeah… I'm very proud of him.'' Her words came out quite slowly as she didn't want the people around them to hear who she was talking about. 

A conflicting thought rushed through Lorenzo's mind, something that might have repercussions that wouldn't be able to be reversed later. 

''How about you go to Charles already? I'm sure he'd love to spent some time with you before his race.'' Her brother didn't look at her while talking, focusing himself on Arthur's car that was making its way back into the DAMS garage. 

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, confused as to why she would leave without them. ''But what about you and Thur?'' She asked him, turning towards him. 

''He still has to debrief with the team and we don't want you to be bored with that,'' he explained, still not sparing her a glance, ''you should go now, honey. The podium ceremony is gonna start and you don't want to be stuck in the crowd, do you?'' 

Her face brightened once she understood what he was actually saying. He wants her to be there for Ollie when he takes the top step of the podium. 

''Yeah, I'll get going then,'' she took off her headset and gave it to her brother, ''tell Thur I'm proud of him.'' She swiftly added, feeling slightly bad about leaving before saying anything to Arthur. 

''I will, now go.'' Lorenzo gave her a little push. 

Y/N scattered out of the DAMS garage, trying hard not to look like a fool as she tried to walk as fast as she could to Parc Fermé. She hoped she would be on time and not miss it, cause otherwise it wasn't worth it speeding past all these people and almost running into them. 

Ollie, Enzo and Théo already stood on the podium when she finally made it there, relief going through knowing that she wasn't too late for his special moment. The youngest Leclerc slowed down her steps, wanting to stay for as long as she could without being photographed or appearing on the large screen. 

The British national anthem started playing, Ollie visibly scanning the crowd in hopes he would spot a certain person. 

Luckily for him, he found her. 

It was like fate had schemed the moment; Y/N looked up at Ollie right as he looked down at her- their eyes finding one another. 

A rush of confidence went through Ollie's body, aware of the incredible feat he just achieved that won't be repeated any time soon. They held eye contact, and the young girl nearly stopped in her tracks as she shared a special moment with the boy she had grown very fond of over the last 9 months. 

Ollie surprised by sending a wink her way, clearly not having done it a lot as he closed both of his eyes while doing it. Her cheeks flushed, flustered by the unexpected action that put a small smile on the Brit's face. 

Despite her unhurried steps, she had reached the end of Parc Fermé. In a moment of bravery, she gave her boyfriend a quick wave before making her way to the Ferrari hospitality. 

Y/N pulled out her phone and opened her Whatsapp, typing a message she knew would make the Prema driver laugh. 

| y/n ❤: very proud of u, oliver winkman x 

Liked by olliebearman, arthur_leclerc and 112.628 others

ynleclerc a nice weekend in baku 🇦🇿 I’m very proud of my brother and the entire ferrari team 🏎️🧸🚦🥉

View all 1.016 comments

| lorenzotl family time 😍

— ynleclerc ❤️

| charles_leclerc merci, bébé!❤️

— ynleclerc ❤️

| piarlesfanforlife NOT THE CAT PIC 😭 Y/N YOURE TOO FUNNY

| ferratifosi1655 the leclerc siblings >>>>

| scuderia_ferrari Grazie, Y/N! ❤️ Cut The Cat will miss you!

— ynleclerc I will miss him too! 🐈‍⬛😢

| gino_rosato FAMILY ❤️

| sharl1lechair6 the hug between Y/N and charles at the podium was the highlight of the race

| softforbearman8 the teddy bear emoji… and ollie liked the post… 👀

— sainzleclercfan pls don’t 😒 that is such a stretch

— softforbearman8 it’s just an observation!

— centraleclercs wasn’t Y/N dating paul aron? I swear that was a thing 🤔

— formulaofaron it was a rumour a while ago, but nothing was ever confirmed

— sainzleclercfan Charles made a Instagram story weeks ago asking for privacy! Haven’t you learned by now to just leave their family alone? 😤

taglist :: @missskid @maxiel-jpg @glitterquadricorn @stillbreathin @obsessed-fan-alert @booknerd2004-blog @kageyamama-hinatatata @reblog-princess-blog @maezenin12 @gly-exe @lighttsoutlewis @topguncultleader @jaydensluv @nora_moon @erinisrightheree @7leb-kakaw @theamazingsimp @lovelyxlily @princessmiaelicia @mehrmonga @champomiel @rowansshit @mbappebby @maemaesthoughts @g4ns3y @im_mi @gracesferrari @67-angelofthelordme-67 @harrysdimple05 @ijustwantavacation @livinglifebeingme @Judgemental-Raven

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[luminnara]

alpha!erasermic x pregnant!reader | ABO fluff

Request:  Hiya! i’m wondering if you can do an alpha! erasermic x pregnant! omega! reader? maybe when both alphas leave their lunch at home and she goes to bring it to them. the reader and both alphas collectively have custody of hitoshi and eri, and the reader is heavily pregnant. preferably a female reader please, and none of class 1-a have met her. this is my first time requesting stuff so i hope i did okay! 😅

You did wonderfully! I love writing cute fluffy stuff like this, and it’s my first time writing any kind of erasermic thing even though I love them so much, so hopefully I did okay! Idk where exactly this sits timeline-wise, don’t worry about it, it’s omegaverse and I can do what I want lol. I took this prompt and sort of RAN with it, too

*also Mirio has his quirk back in this because it’s fun, and the reader has kind of a dodgy past because i wanted to add a little SPICE*

Warnings: a/b/o, pregnancy, the implications of Aizawa’s scarf and all of its uses

You sighed, resting a hand on your swollen belly. “Those two...”

You had only just gotten Eri out of bed, and, upon heading into the kitchen to fix her some breakfast, you saw two lovingly-prepared bento boxes sitting on the counter. Shota and Hizashi must have forgotten them in their hurry to get to UA earlier that morning, and while you knew they could very easily grab something to eat in the cafeteria, you hated the thought of these meals going to waste.

Besides, your inner omega was a bit miffed that they hadn’t taken your home cooked food to work with them. Was Lunch Rush’s food so much better than yours that your alphas would rather eat at school? You refused to believe that, even if his quirk was cooking. There was no way that he could make your alphas a meal that could compare to the kind you always cooked for them, and maybe it was the pregnancy hormones making you extra bristly about it, but you were determined to march right on over to UA and bring them their proper lunches. 

Even if you were heavily, heavily pregnant. They’d probably have something to say about you leaving the house and waddling around Musutafu with only Eri as company, but you were tough enough to fend for yourself. And besides, it was only a quick train ride to the station outside the school, and if you did get yourself into any kind of trouble, the city was chock full of pro heroes and their sidekicks, many of whom you were on a first name basis with. 

“Eri!” you called, grabbing a bag to carry the boxes in. “Are you dressed yet? We’re going to visit UA!”

You could heard a thump, followed by the sound of little feet thudding as she ran to meet you. When she appeared in the doorway, her eyes were wide with excitement, her long hair falling around her shoulders messily. “Yes!”

“Go brush your hair and then we’ll go,” you laughed, ushering her towards the bathroom. 

“Why are we going?” the little girl called. 

“Hizashi and Shota left their lunches,” you explained. “We’re bringing them so that the food doesn’t go to waste.”

“Can we visit Deku and Togata?”

You paused to think. You hadn’t actually met any of Shota and Hizashi’s students before, your alphas always preferring that you stay home and away from the sometimes dangerous school they taught at. Well, you knew Hitoshi, of course, and since he had yet to move into the dorms on campus, he still lived at home with the rest of the family. At least he had remembered to grab his lunch. Would your adopted son be embarrassed to see you appearing at his school? Hitoshi always carried himself in a very collected manner, and the thought of being able to show up and pinch his cheeks and coo at him made you laugh. 

And you knew that everyone in Class 1-A would be over the moon to see Eri. The little girl that had been rescued from Overhaul was popular amongst the young heroes-in-training, from what you’d heard, and if you were going to go all the way to UA, you’d be damned if you didn’t let her see her friends there. 

“Of course we can,” you said with a smile as she came running back in, her hair significantly less tangled. “Ready?”

“Ready!” she beamed up at you.

“Do me a favor and carry this?” you offered her the tote you’d tucked the bento boxes into and she took it from you eagerly, bouncing towards the door. 

You grabbed your purse, made sure your keys were inside, and followed her out, taking her free hand. Together, the two of you made your way to the nearest train station, a few neighbors waving hello as you passed. There were no villains to be seen or head of, and the pros you saw out on patrol all looked happy and relaxed. They all knew who you were, some of the betas and omegas approaching to chat about your pregnancy and ask how things were going. The alphas hung back, calling greetings or offering waves, none of them wanting to get too close to a pregnant, mated omega and risk the wrath of your alphas if their scents happened to cling to you. 

The journey went smoothly, Eri sticking close to your side the entire way. You were both excited to be going to visit UA--Eri, because she would get to see Deku and Mirio, and you because you hadn’t been to the school in years--and as you stepped off the train and the gates finally came into view, you let out a happy laugh. 

“Ready?” you asked Eri, leading her towards the entrance. 

“Mhm!” she nodded eagerly, pulling you forward. “Let’s go! Let’s go let’s go let’s go--”

“Hang on, hang on,” you waddled after her as quickly as you could, fishing around in your purse. When you finally found what you were looking for, you pulled out an ID card, holding it up towards the sensor atop the UA Barrier gate. “You have your card?”

“Yep!” Eri said, grabbing the card hanging from the lanyard around her neck and mimicking you. 

“Special ID accepted,” a robotic voice chimed. “Welcome to UA High, (y/n) and Eri.”

The gate opened and you led Eri through it, the big school looming just past it. The special ID cards you both had were a result of Shota insisting that you be able to get to UA if you ever needed to. With the upgraded security measures, and so many of the students living in the dorms, it wasn’t easy getting onto the campus without either a student or guest card. You probably technically weren’t even supposed to have one, but no one was going to argue with Aizawa and Yamada when it came to ensuring their omega would be able to get to them in case of emergency.

This wasn’t exactly an emergency, but it was still an important mission, so you had absolutely no qualms about using your special ID privileges today. You just hoped nobody else would be mad about it.

 “Hey, is that Eri I see?” a voice called. 

You turned to see a blond haired, blue eyed boy jogging towards you and recognized him as Togata. He was dressed in a PE uniform, and as he stopped in front of you, you could see that he was panting. 

Eri immediately set the bag down and rushed toward him, running into his open arms. “Lemillion!”

Mirio laughed as he scooped her into a hug. “What are you doing here? Aizawa didn’t mention anything about a visit!”

“Aizawa forgot his lunch today,” you said, nodding towards the bag Eri had dropped. “So we thought we’d bring it and visit.”

Mirio straightened up a bit when he realized you were there. You had to be absolutely covered in your alphas’ scents, and even if they never told any of the students about you, there was no way that Mirio hadn’t figured it out by now. Besides...your bond marks were very big and very visible, one on each side of your neck just below your scent glands. There was no way Mirio didn’t know what that all added up to. 

You had never officially met him, but you’d heard plenty about all of UA’s Big Three, and after he and Deku saved Eri from the Shie Hassaikai, you’d heard even more about him. He was selfless, going so far as to sacrifice his own quirk to keep Eri safe and get her away from Overhaul, and for that, you’d always feel a little indebted to him. He’d luckily been able to get it back, but Aizawa had told you that there had been a long period in which nobody was sure it could even be returned to him. 

“Oh, s-sorry!” he bowed to you. “I don’t think we’ve ever been properly introduced! I’m Togata Mirio, I was there at the Shie Hassaikai raid--”

“I’ve heard plenty about you,” you laughed as he straightened up again. “I’m (y/n). I’m the stay at home omega that keeps Shota and Hizashi from starving all the time.”

Mirio’s laugh was probably one of the most raucously happy sounds you had ever heard. “We’re all grateful for that! As for me, personally, I’m really glad Eri has such a great mom now, too. And you’ve got more on the way!”

“Sure do,” you groaned, a hand on your lower back as you tried to lean and stretch it out some. “Due date’s in just a couple weeks. Can’t wait to get ‘em outta here.”

“Well, at least you already know how to do the parenting part!” Mirio was still all smiles as Eri grabbed for his hand and he took it, picking up the tote bag as well. “Come on, it’s my free period so I’ll take you to 1-A’s classroom.”

“Thank you, Togata,” you said, hand on your belly as you followed him into the school. 

“It’s no problem!” he beamed at you over his shoulder as he led the way. “It’s almost lunch, too. Perfect timing!”

“Is it really?” you glanced up at a clock on the wall, and sure enough, it was nearly noon. “Wow. Guess we took longer than I thought. But...ugh, I didn’t bring any food for myself or Eri...”

“That’s no problem! Lunch Rush always has tons of options in the Grand Mess Hall.” at your slight glare, Mirio added, “...But I’m sure even his best cooking is no substitute for a homemade meal!”

“That’s right,” you growled, waddling along down the hall. 

When the three of you reached the 1-A door, Mirio used his permeation quirk to stick his head straight through it rather than knocking, and judging by the resounding scream of surprise that nearly shattered the windows, he had scared Hizashi half to death.

Mirio pulled back and opened the door, revealing a room full of groaning students, all clutching their ears. Hizashi was the only one who seemed unbothered by the sheer volume of the scream he had let out, clutching his chest instead. 

“Why can’t you knock like a normal person, dumbass?” a blond boy snarled. 

“Bakugou! You shouldn’t swear in front of esteemed upperclassmen!” a black-haired boy with glasses said. 

“It’s not just me you’re swearing in front of!” Mirio said, still smiling, like always. With a nod of his head, he tugged Eri into the room.

Everyone lit up, and you even caught Bakugou’s harsh expression softening some at the sight of her. 

“Eri!” a freckly, green haired boy exclaimed, jumping up from his seat. 

“Deku!” the little girl yelled happily, letting go of Mirio’s hand to run towards him.

You watched as he knelt down to greet her, the rest of the class all getting up, or at the very least leaning over in their seats to say hello. All except Hitoshi, who looked up, made eye contact with you, started to roll his eyes, and then sighed. 

Oh, you were so going to embarrass him today. 

Hizashi was still trying to catch his breath, but now, with the students all distracted by Eri, he finally had a chance to notice you. You could see his nostrils flare as he recognized your scent, his head whipping around to spot you standing there in the door.

“BABE!” he rushed toward you, pulling you into a hug. 

“Hi, Hizashi,” you laughed into his shoulder, clinging to his jacket as he rubbed his scent gland over your hair. 

He immediately pulled back, holding you at arm’s length as he looked you over. “What’re you doing here? Everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” you chuckled. When he glanced down at your swollen belly, you added, “we’re fine.”

He let out a relieved breath. “Okay. Okay, good. Had me worried there for a sec.”

“They came to bring you lunch!” Mirio said, holding up the bag he had carried in for you. “I ran into her and Eri outside while I was out for my daily jog.”

“Togata here was very helpful,” you said. “He even carried that bag for us.”

“Gotta help everyone who needs it, whenever I can!” the teenager gave you a thumbs up. 

“Thanks, Mirio.” Hizashi said, putting an arm around your shoulders and pulling you up against his side. “Means a lot to me that my family stays safe.”

“Family?”

You turned to see all of Class 1-A staring at you. 

Hizashi cleared his throat, the sound practically echoing. “Everybody, this is my mate.”

The room suddenly erupted. 

“Who is she?”

“Is she a pro?”

“Can’t believe anybody would put up with him...”

“Bakugou, quiet! Don’t be rude!”

“But, wait...” Deku said, still kneeling with Eri. “I thought Eri’s been living with Mr. Aizawa..?”

The students all glanced to each other before their eyes swiveled to you and Hizashi. 

“Oh, Hizashi,” you teased. “You never told them?”

“I, uh...” a slight pink tinged his cheeks as he blushed.  

Luckily, before he had the chance to stumble over his words any longer, he was saved by the appearance of a very tired, very disgruntled, Eraserhead. 

“What the hell is going on and why the hell are you screaming in my classroom?” he growled from the doorway. 

Hizashi turned the two of you to face him, and you saw the anger immediately drain from Aizawa’s face. 

“...What are you doing here?” he asked, his bloodshot eyes full of concern. “Everything okay?”

“Hi, Papa!” Eri chimed from her spot next to Deku. 

“...Hello, Eri. Why are you also here?”

“You both forgot your lunches,” you said, practically scolding them. “I worked hard on those!”

“So you came all the way here just to bring us lunch? You realize we have an entire cafeteria here, right?”

“Don’t even think about it,” you growled. 

“You shouldn’t be walking across Musutafu without at least Hitoshi with you. It’s too dangerous.”

At the mention of his name, everyone’s heads swiveled to look at Shinso. He sighed, slumping back in his chair and dragging a hand down his face. 

“You know, if you wouldn’t forget the lunches that I so lovingly put all that hard work into, I wouldn’t even have to go all the way across Musutafu to bring them to you.” you said haughtily, nose up in the air as you stared your alpha down. “And besides...you know better than anyone that I can take care of myself, and Eri, no matter how pregnant I am.”

Aizawa sighed. He knew there was no arguing with you when you got in a mood like this, and besides...you were already there. 

And you were right.

Before he could even come up with something to say, the bell rang, signaling that it was time for lunch, and soon, you were walking down the hall between your two alphas, Eri riding on Deku’s shoulders as Class 1-A flooded out along with you. 

You ended up sitting in the mess hall with the students, sandwiched between Hizashi and Shota. Shota didn’t seem entirely pleased with it, mentioning several times that he’d much rather be in the teachers’ lounge where it was quieter, but Eri was far too happy to be with Class 1-A for him to actually tear her away from them. She was across from you, sitting next to Deku and a brown haired girl you learned was named Ochako. Mirio had left to go find his own friends, the other two members of The Big Three, and you could see him just a few tables over, laughing loudly with a blue haired girl with a boy with pointy ears looked like he was trying to will himself out of existence next to them. 

“It’s so exciting that Mr. Aizawa has a whole family!” Ochako said. 

“And with Present Mic, too,” Tsu, the frog girl, said from her spot next to her. 

“How long have you been together?” the pink girl, Mina, asked.

“Don’t ask so many personal questions! We should respect their privacy.” Iida said, in true class rep fashion. 

When Shota only offered a grunt in reply, too focused on his lunch to actually talk with his homeroom class, and with Hizashi already stuffing his face, you took it upon yourself to chat. 

“Oh, I don’t mind the questions!” you said with a good natured laugh. “I met Hizashi and Shota when we all went to school together. Then we lost touch, because I...well, I sort of...chose a different life path than they did.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Hizashi slurped up his soba. 

“Here.” you looked up to see Hitoshi had brought you and Eri each a tray of food, setting them down in front of the two of you. 

“You’re so good to your mother,” you cooed, reaching up to grab his cheek. 

He dodged you expertly, ducking out of the way and going to sit with Bakugou and his friends on Deku’s other side. You narrowed your eyes at him, making sure he knew that he couldn’t run forever, and as Denki watched the exchange, he spoke up. 

“...Wait. You didn’t become a pro hero?” he asked. 

“I took the hero course here at UA.” you explained, grabbing your chopsticks. “I ended up dropping out before graduation. This is actually my first time back since then.”

“So...” Deku seemed nervous. “Were you, uh...”

“A villain?” you asked. 

When he nodded quickly, you laughed and offered a nod of your own. 

“Yeah, I suppose I was. My quirk used to be wild, and hard to control...I got so frustrated when I wasn’t making any progress with it that I decided to just leave school. I was mad at everyone, and I fell in with people who felt the same way. One thing leads to another, and next thing you know, I’m running from the loudest, most obnoxious pro hero in the city.”

Everyone’s eyes turned to Hizashi, who was doing his best not to choke on his lunch. 

“And he never caught me,” you said adoringly, leaning against his shoulder. 

“I never caught you on my own,” he corrected. 

“Made my ears bleed a few times, I think.”

“Yes, and I don’t regret that.” he pressed a cute, fluttery little kiss against the tip of your nose. “You were absolutely going to kill me.”

“Not absolutely!” you protested. 

“I had to rescue him.” Aizawa spoke up, his voice gruff and tired, like always. “Had to cancel your quirk and keep you tied down until the others could get to us.”

You smirked at your first memory of his scarf and what it could do, and as you did so, he realized that he had just admitted to tying you up with it in front of his idiot students.

“And that’s when I fell in looooove,” you grabbed his arm, batting your lashes at him obnoxiously. 

“Not another word.” he growled. 

The students were all staring at you with wide eyes. All except Hitoshi, who was rolling his. 

“I guess you could say I was reformed,” you said, grabbing some noodles. “Then one thing led to another, and...here we are.” You patted your belly. 

“That’s so romantic,” Mina sighed, leaning her chin on her hand. 

“What’s your quirk?” Ochako asked. 

“I could show you!” you said eagerly, moving to stand.

“Absolutely not.” Shota held onto your arm and forced you to sit down again. “You are due in two weeks. No nonsense until after the pups are born.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes now. 

“Fine,” you mumbled with a sigh. “I never get to have fun anymore.”

“But pups are so exciting!” the invisible girl, Hagakure, said. 

“Yeah!” Mina agreed. 

Then, the rest of the girls bombarded you with questions. 

“How many are you having?”

“What day are they coming?!”

“Can we meet them?”

“Mr. Aizawa, please can you bring them in to the dorms??”

“--But Mr. Aizawa, this is the safest place in Japan. There’s no way anything bad would happen to them--”

“--And besides, (y/n) has a super strong quirk, right? She said so!”

“Come on, just let us see the brats when they’re old enough to travel.”

The sound of Bakugou’s voice had everyone staring at the blond boy. 

“...What?” he bristled. “It’s not like I care, I just want the girls to shut up.”

“Uh huh. Sure, Bakugou.” Kirishima snorted. 

“...maybe.” Aizawa relented, eager to shut them all up. 

That was enough for the girls, and they immediately began talking chattering about the cutest baby clothes, the best toys, and then the differences between their own upbringings. You enjoyed listening to them throughout the rest of lunch, and by the time the hour had ended, you were sad to be leaving. 

“Hang on, hang on,” Hizashi said as you took Eri’s hand to leave. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home,” you furrowed your brow. “Why?”

“We told you,” Shota said, standing with his hands in his pockets. “We don’t want you wandering around the city.”

“And I told you, I’m fine--”

“Just stay here for the rest of the day.”

“...What?”

“We’ll all go home together later.” Hizashi smiled. “You and Eri can hang out in the lounge. I bet Midnight would love to pester you about the bump, too.”

You smiled, walking towards your alphas. “Alright. Alright, yeah. That sounds nice.”

As Class 1-A lingered at the end of the hall, watching for as long as they could get away with, Denki elbowed Hitoshi in the side. 

“Dude, your mom is--”

“Don’t you dare say hot.” Shinso growled. 

“Actually, I was gonna say badass, but that too--”

The purple haired boy glared at him. “Shut up, Denki.”

“What? It’s a compliment!”

[mostlysignssomeportents]

How copyright filters lead to wage-theft

Last week, "Marina" - a piano teacher who publishes free lessons her Piano Keys Youtube channel - celebrated her fifth anniversary by announcing that she was quitting Youtube because her meager wages were being stolen by fraudsters.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WcyOxtkafMs

Marina posted a video with a snatch of her performance of Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata," published in 1801. The composition is firmly in the public domain, and the copyright in the performance is firmly Marina's, but it still triggered Youtube's automated copyright filter.

A corporate entity - identified only by an alphabet soup of initialisms and cryptic LLC names - had claimed Ole Ludwig Van's masterpiece as their own, identifying it as "Wicca Moonlight."

Content ID, the automated Youtube filter, flagged Marina's track as an unauthorized performance of this "Wicca Moonlight" track. Marina appealed the automated judgement, which triggered a message to this shadowy LLC asking if they agreed that no infringement had taken place.

But the LLC renewed its claim of infringement. Marina now faces several unpleasant choices:

She can allow the LLC to monetize her video, stealing the meager wages she receives from the ads that appear on it

She can take down her video

She can provide her full name and address to Youtube in order to escalate the claim, with the possibility that her attackers will get her contact details, and with the risk that if she loses her claim, she can lose her Youtube channel

The incident was a wake-up call for Marina, who is quitting Youtube altogether, noting that it has become a place that favors grifters over creators. She's not wrong, and it's worth looking at how that happened.

Content ID was created to mollify the entertainment industry after Google acquired Youtube. Google would spend $100m on filtering tech that would allow rightsholders to go beyond the simple "takedown" permitted by law, and instead share in revenues from creative uses.

But it's easy to see how this system could be abused. What if people falsely asserted copyright over works to which they had no claim? What if rightsholders rejected fair uses, especially criticism?

In a world where the ownership of creative works can take years to untangle in the courts and where judges' fair use rulings are impossible to predict in advance, how could Google hope to get it right, especially at the vast scale of Youtube?

The impossibility of automating copyright judgments didn't stop Google from trying to perfect its filter, adding layers of complexity until Content ID's appeal process turned into a cod-legal system whose flowchart looks like a bowl of spaghetti.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/12/fairy-use-tale/#content-id

The resulting mess firmly favors attackers (wage stealers, fraudsters, censors, bullies) over defenders (creators, critics). Attackers don't need to waste their time making art, which leaves them with the surplus capacity to master the counterintuitive "legal" framework.

You can't fix a system broke by complexity by adding more complexity to it. Attempts to do so only makes the system more exploitable by bad actors, like blackmailers who use fake copyright claims to extract ransoms from working creators.

https://torrentfreak.com/youtube-strikes-now-being-used-as-scammers-extortion-tool/

But it would be a mistake to think that filterfraud was primarily a problem of shadowy scammers. The most prolific filter scammers and wage-thieves are giant music companies, like Sony Music, who claim nearly *all* classical music:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/22/crisis-for-thee-not-me/#filternet

The Big Tech companies argue that they have an appeals process that can reverse these overclaims, but that process is a joke. Instagram takedowns take a few seconds to file, but *28 months* to appeal.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/17/cheap-truthers/#robot-sez-no

The entertainment industry are flagrant filternet abusers. Take Warner Chappell, whose subsidiary demonetizes videos that include the numbers "36" and "50":

https://www.dexerto.com/entertainment/annemunition-bizarre-copyright-strike-youtube-random-numbers-1317750/

Warner Chappell are prolific copyfraudsters. For decades, they fraudulently claimed ownership over "Happy Birthday" (!):

https://consumerist.com/2016/02/09/happy-birthday-song-settlement-to-pay-out-14-million-to-people-who-paid-to-use-song/

They're still at it - In 2020 they used a fraudulent claim to nuke a music theory video, and then a human being working on behalf of the company renewed the claim *after* being informed that they were mistaken about which song was quoted in the video:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/03/05/warner-chappell-copyfraud/#warnerchappell

The fact that automated copyright claims can remove material from the internet leads to a lot of sheer fuckery. In 2019, anti-fascists toyed with blaring copyrighted music at far right rallies to prevent their enemies from posting them online.

https://memex.craphound.com/2019/07/23/clever-hack-that-will-end-badly-playing-copyrighted-music-during-nazis-rallies-so-they-cant-be-posted-to-youtube/

At the time, I warned that this would end badly. Just a month before, there had been a huge scandal because critics of extremist violence found that automated filters killed their videos because they featured clips of that violence:

https://memex.craphound.com/2019/06/06/people-who-document-evidence-of-violent-extremism-are-being-shut-down-in-youtubes-crackdown-on-violent-extremism/

Since then, it's only gotten worse. The Chinese Communist Party uses copyfraud to remove critical videos from Youtube:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/27/literal-gunhumping/#communist-bandit

and so does the Beverley Hills Police Department:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/10/duke-sucks/#bhpd

But despite all that, the momentum is for *more* filtering, to remove far fuzzier categories of content. The EU's Terror Regulation has just gone into effect, giving platforms just *one hour* to remove "terrorist" content:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/04/eu-online-terrorism-regulation-bad-deal

The platforms have pivoted from opposing filter rules to endorsing them. Marc Zuckerberg says that he's fine with removing legal protections for online platforms unless they have hundreds of millions of dollars to install filters.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/03/25/facebook-has-a-facebook-problem/#played-for-zuckers

The advocates for a filternet insist that all these problems can be solved if geeks just *nerd harder* to automate good judgment, fair appeals, and accurate attributions. This is pure wishful thinking. As is so often the case in tech policy, "wanting it badly is not enough."

In 2019, the EU passed the Copyright Directive, whose Article1 7 is a "notice and staydown" rule requiring platforms to do instant takedowns on notice of infringement *and* to prevent content from being re-posted.

There's no way to do this without filters, but there's no way to make filters without violating the GDPR. The EU trying to figure out how to make it work, and the people who said this wouldn't require filters are now claiming that filters are fine.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/11/protocols-of-qanon/#no-filternet

Automating subtle judgment calls is impossible, not just because copyright's limitations - fair use and others - are grounded in subjective factors like "artistic intent," but because automating a flawed process creates flaws at scale.

Remember when Jimmy Fallon broadcasted himself playing a video game? NBC automatically claimed the whole program as its copyrighted work, and thereafter, gamers who streamed themselves playing that game got automated takedowns from NBC.

https://old.reddit.com/r/beatsaber/comments/bi9cp5/beat_saber_stream_blocked_by_jimmy_fallon_show/

The relentless expansion of proprietary rights over our virtual and physical world raises the stakes for filter errors. The new Notre Dame spire will be a copyrighted work - will filters block videos of protests in front of the cathedral?

https://www.techdirt.com/articles/20190425/09282042084/why-your-holiday-photos-videos-restored-notre-dame-cathedral-could-be-blocked-eus-upload-filters.shtml

And ever since the US's 1976 Copyright Act abolished a registration requirement, it's gotten harder to figure out who controls the rights to any work, so that even the "royalty free" music for Youtubers to safely use turned out to be copyrighted:

https://torrentfreak.com/royalty-free-music-supplied-by-youtube-results-in-mass-video-demonetization-191118/

We need a new deal for content removal, one that favors working creators over wage-thieves who have the time and energy to master the crufty, complex private legal systems each platform grows for itself.

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/04/content-moderation-broken-let-us-count-ways

Back in 2019, Slate Future Tense commissioned me to write an sf story about how this stuff might work out in the coming years. The result, "Affordances," is sadly still relevant today:

https://slate.com/technology/2019/10/affordances-cory-doctorow-sf-story-algorithmic-bias-facial-recognition.html

Here's a podcast of the story as well:

https://ia803108.us.archive.org/3/items/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_314/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_314_-Affordances.mp3

Meanwhile, governments from Australia to the UK to Canada are adopting "Harmful Content" rules that are poised to vastly expand the filternet, insisting that it's better than the alternative.

https://www.cbc.ca/news/politics/bill-c10-user-generated-content-1.6007192

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Limelight: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

Due to Jill's announcement with the press, the police station is crowded with people who claimed they have people missing. Of course, you can't reject anyone, so you're stuck listening to every single person's account of someone who is missing. You're overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people here, but you have to remind yourself that the stress isn't real. You can separate yourself from it, but it takes a lot out of you.

You must have talked to ten people, but none of them had something useful for you to use. You're sad that some of them have people they love who are missing, but none of them match the other victims you're looking for.

You're just about to give up hope when you get a tip from dispatch that someone called in claiming to know where a victim is. Your team is taken to an empty room to listen to the recording since it happened a little bit ago while the local police handle the tips from everyone else.

"Philadelphia Police Department," dispatch says.

"I think I saw something. It might have to do with the killings," a man says in a low voice.

"What did you see?"

"My car broke down on I-76. There was a field off the road. A man was digging a hole."

"What kind of hole?"

"For the body. I saw it. A bleeder stripped of its clothes."

"Can I have your name, sir?"

"Mile marker 115 on the eastbound. They'll find it."

The call ends, and you know that without a doubt, that the caller was the unsub. He is leading you to another body, and you know this has something to do with Jill talking to the press yesterday.

"Does anything strike you?" Jill asks Hotch.

"Stripped of its clothes. That objectifies the victim."

"Exactly. Dehumanizing. This wasn't just any tipster."

"The way that he referred to the body as a bleeder could mean--"

"Visible trauma to the corpse," Jill cuts him off, jumping the gun.

She is too excited, and she is going to get herself hurt... or worse.

"No, not exactly. I noted usage of the same word in the pages from the storage facility. He refers to his targets as bleeders. It's misogynistic. He's referring to menstruation."

"He'd use it as a weakness."

"I think we need to see what's in that field."

Derek and Emily volunteered to see the body with their own eyes, but you wanted to stay at the police station. What they found there shocked not only them but the rest of the team once they found out about it. Not only did they find a victim buried in the ground with enough teeth intact to ID the body, but this woman was buried on top of another woman.

Two victims this unsub gave you, but why? What was the point of it?

"He calls in anonymously and hands us two more victims. Why?" Jill asks, just as confused as you.

"You vowed publicly to bring him in. He may be reacting to that to show you who you're dealing with. He's a narcissist. He's preening."

"Good. I hope he keeps it up."

"No, you don't want that."

"He will drop a breadcrumb every time he tries something like this."

"He'll drop bodies, too."

What the hell is wrong with her? Why is she being like this? She is too cocky, and you don't like that she is on this case.

"If he's making it personal, he'll get sloppy and give himself away."

"Maybe that's what he wants. It never occurred to me that this guy defaulted on that storage unit."

"You think he wanted us to find it?"

"Maybe he's decided it's time for the world to know his name, but if he wanted a coming-out party, then why not just send his victim photos, videos, or something to prove what he is?"

"He wanted us to start at the beginning, to chart his evolution. Bright childhood grows into darkness. He's got us chronicling every step."

"So, if this is his story, what chapter are we on?" Jill wonders.

"The final one. He's writing it as we speak."

Your phone rings, and you put Penelope on speakerphone for all to hear.

"What's up?"

"When I got shot, I kept wondering why God would program our bodies to register that kind of pain. You know what got me through it?"

"No, I don't. What got you through it?"

"Knowing that the pain would eventually end, but these women, they don't even have that. When he's torturing them, there's no end." She takes a pause, and you hear something in the background. "Philly lab matched the IDs of the dental records on the two women from the grave. Mimi Adams and Sara Coswell. You'll find them in the missing person files we've flagged as possible victims."

"Thanks, Pen. We're on it."

"Wait, there's something else. Both women were reported missing four months ago on the same day."

"He's doing doubles. The killer got bored, upped the stakes, and killed two women in one day."

"Gerard Schaefer did it. He took his cue from Bundy. He said it was twice as hard, but twice as much fun. He kills with impunity for years without the slightest bit of heat and he needs a bigger fix, so he starts doing two a day. Four months later, he still can't get off so he opens his storage locker for us."

"Jill. Chronicle holding on 2," an officer notifies Agent Morris.

"Yeah, I'll take that in my office."

"Planning another press conference?" Derek comments, but she doesn't answer.

She leaves for her office, and you watch her leave. She is going to get someone killed if she continues down this road, and it seems like she doesn't want to listen to anyone.

"I heard we got IDs on these two bodies," JJ says walking into the conference room.

"Yeah, Mimi Adams and Sara Coswell. What's up?"

"This woman's husband came in before. She fits the victim type," JJ says about one of the victims that have been dug up.

"If you have her DNA, you might want to check it against the hair."

"What hair?"

"From the storage unit. Agent Morris found it early on. It's the same color, so it might--"

"It won't match," Rossi cuts Spencer off. "She didn't get the hair from the unit."

"She lied? When were you gonna tell us?" Hotch asks angrily.

"Whatever she did to get us here, we're here now."

"It's unacceptable behavior. Why do you keep defending her?"

"Because I know what she is. She's me twenty years ago. I know what people think. Everyone knows their names, but not the victims, right? Somewhere along the line, I put myself first. I admit it. I can't go back and change it, but it's not too late for her."

"Missing persons flagged a report that was just filed," Derek says once the news breaks out.

"A possible victim?"

"The subject's car was found idling at a stop sign, and there was some damage to the back end. It sounds like a bump and grab."

"Did she fit his profile career, age-wise?" Hotch asks.

"Katrina Townsley, thirty-four. She's a reporter at the chronicle."

"The Chronicle?"

Rossi gets up and rushes over to Jill's office in a panic. You realize why when you remember the officer telling her that someone from the Chronicle was calling her. If she did what you think she did, then Jill went out on the prospect of getting this guy, and she probably walked right into a trap.

You rush behind Rossi and see something on her computer that resembles a letter on her email. Upon closer examination, it's a letter that doesn't look like the other ones you've gotten.

"What is it?" Hotch asks.

"Have we gotten this letter?"

"No. I've never seen this before," Spencer says after reading it. "Why would he send agent Morris a letter?"

"She's his final chapter."

Luckily, Jill has a government phone that always has the tracker readily available, so you know her last known location. She was last at a car garage, but when you get there, you find her phone and nothing else. She was here, you can feel her, and someone else was here as well. The unsub must have grabbed two people. If you had to guess, the unsub grabbed Jill's friend at the Chronicle before using her to lure Jill out of hiding.

Katrina Townsley's energy is littered across the garage, making it easy to follow it.

"There's blood here. A couple of drops. Looks like she was dragged. This shouldn't have happened."

"Her guard was down. He tricked her into thinking she was meeting a friend," you try to assure Rossi.

"I told her to slow down, check your ego, and use your team."

"David, there's no way you could have known that she was gonna go off by herself."

"I did know. Sure as I know myself."

"Rossi, I can see Kat and Jill's energy. I know where they went. Right behind you at the entrance of the garage, I can see the vehicle he is driving." Rossi stares at you as if you have three heads, but you don't have time for this. "Okay, you can keep staring at me, or I can help you find them."

You don't wait for his response, and you take out your phone to call Hotch.

"Do you have something?"

"I know where they went. I can see his car. I'll be able to track them down, but I won't know where they are until I get there."

"Good. Follow them."

You hang up on Hotch and walk over to the car you used to travel to the garage.

"Are you going to come?"

Rossi and Spencer have no choice but to follow you no matter if they believe you or not. You get behind the wheel since you can clearly see the van the unsub used. The closer you get to the car, the further away it seems to be. When you move, it moves in the direction it went.

You pull into traffic and follow the van that seems to disappearing between cars, only to reappear.

"What do you see?" Rossi asks you.

"I see this van maneuvering between cars, disappearing and reappearing. It's like it's leading me to where it is because of Kat and Jill. Their energies are making it so that I am able to follow them clearly. It's hard to explain."

After three more minutes on the main road, you make a couple of right turns into a neighborhood where you see the same car parked in front of a house. You quickly sent a message to Hotch about where you are, and it wasn't long for the rest of the team and the police force to arrive at the house.

The second the door was busted down, you followed the energy left behind by Kat and Jill. They are alive, but you hope that the unsub didn't hurt them too much. The unsub is unusually calm when you get down to the basement, and he even lets you handcuff him and take him away without a fight. Kat is lying on the ground, unconscious, but Jill is a crying mess.

With the unsub in custody, your team is able to figure who the hell this guy is. His name is Jeremy Andrus, forty-one. He came from a broken home, poverty, went to trade school, was involved in petty crime and lewd behavior. The entire profile is laid out in his entire life, so it seems obvious now that you know who he is, but it wasn't so obvious when you had the entire state of people to choose from.

The thing that bothers you the most is that when he was shown all the missing people, he kept pointing to certain ones. You know that the ones he is pointing to are his victims.

Seventeen of them he has pointed to, and he hasn't even gotten to the 2006 pile. It breaks your heart. He won't speak or tell you where the remains are, and that's the true revenge knowing he's killed this many people but won't tell you where they are located.

Knowing you caught this guy and can bring justice to other victims, but you can't if he won't talk about it.

The best thing to unwind from a case like this is to spend it with the people you love the most. You and Spencer needed a relaxing night, and what better way to relax than with facials and at-home manicures? Using one of your hair wraps to keep your hair out of the way when you're doing makeup, you place that on Spencer's head to pull his hair away from his face. It's a cute pink one with bunny ears while yours is blue with teddy bear ears.

You slather on a good amount of your facial mixture to Spencer's face, avoiding his eyes and nose. After putting some on yourself, you grab his right hand and begin to fix his nails with your manicure set.

"Would you quit looking at that thing?"

He is holding the facial bottle and inspecting the ingredients as if he will understand what some of them are.

"My face is tingling. I don't think that's supposed to be happening."

"Yes, it is. That means it's working. Now, put down the bottle and relax. Let me take care of you."

Spencer sets the bottle down and leans back, closing his eyes in relaxation. It's not every day where you can be like this with Spencer, but you're going to take it where you can get it. If you can't find happiness in these moments, then why have them at all?

"I love you," you say, blowing on his fingers to get rid of the loose skin.

"I love you," he smiles with his eyes closed.

"For we pay a price for everything we get or take in this world; and although ambitions are well worth having, they are not to be cheaply won." - Lucy Maud Montgomery

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

not jealous | jake sim

summary: jake sim is not a jealous person. at least that's what he tells himself. so why does he find himself going through your phone when a certain "bluejay park" decides to text you?

pairing: jake sim x y/n [ft. mentions of jay park]

genre: angst, fluff 

warnings: angst, cursing (very minimal), one slightly suggestive sentence, jake being cute, some more angst lol, slightly cheesy bc jake’s just too cute ugh

wc: 3.8k

a/n: ok i loved writing this, which is why i went on to almost 4k words LOL oops. but anyways, i love jake a little too much and this type of scenario has been running around in my head for a while now so i decided to put it into words. also i may have created this blog just so i could post this somewhere LMAO anyways yeah this was my first fic so hope you guys enjoyyyy <3

Jake Sim is not a jealous person.

At least that's what he tells himself. To be fair, in his past relationships, he never showed any jealously. Then again, he doesn't know if he can call those relationships, "relationships". Does a fifth grade relationship with a girl who he was once dared to kiss during a game of Truth or Dare in the basement of a classmate's house during their 11th birthday party count? He doesn't remember being jealous when the same girl was later dared to kiss his classmate, Sunghoon. (Funny enough, that's how the two boys came to be best friends 'til this day, but that's a story for another time.) 

But really, Jake doesn't think jealously is one of his traits, even if he's now almost 20 years old without any experience with love other than his current relationship with you and that short-lived romance in the fifth grade. (What was her name again? Jake would have to ask Sunghoon later.)

So he doesn't know what clicked in that brain of his that lead him to this current situation he was in. He doesn't know why he felt a little spark of anger in him when your phone, which you left right next to him on the couch while you went to take a shower, kept buzzing with texts from "bluejay park". He doesn't know why he couldn't kept his eyes distracted from the messages, although your phone was constantly lighting up because whatever it was Jay had to say to you, he would not shut up about it. He doesn't know why he questioned what your relationship with Jay was for a split second.

In fact, you're close with all of Jake's friends. That's one of his favorite things about you, you get along so well with all his friends you might as well replace Jake himself in the friend group. So he doesn't know what tells him to take a little glance at your phone—at the messages.

But he finds himself doing it anyways.

Hearing that the water in the shower was still running (you were always the type to take long showers), he quickly grabs your phone and scrolls through the lock screen just to find that he couldn't even read the messages since you had your notifications set so no one could read them unless the phone was unlocked (darn you and your settings!) Thankfully, Jake knew your passcode––and you knew his too––or he thought he did. Until the iPhone vibrated, telling him the passcode was wrong.

He must've entered it too fast or something. So he tries again.

And again.

And again.

Until the iPhone switches its screen to say: "iPhone is disabled. Try again in 5 minutes."

There's no way. You never change your password. And even if you did, you would tell him—you two even had each other's fingerprints saved into each other's phones in the past (you know, before the world decided that Apple's home button was too lame and decided to just completely get rid of it). If there was an option to save multiple faces for Face ID, you two would be that couple that saved each others faces in your own phones.

That being said, Jake sat there, your phone in hand, frozen. Why was your phone locked? Why was Jay texting you 10 texts per second? Why did he feel guilty about this entire situation?

He hears the shower switch off and in that moment, he swears he feels his heart beat just a little faster. He tells himself there's no way you'll be out before the 5 minutes are up. You followed a really meticulous skincare routine (one that Jake memorized by now) that took an extra 15 minutes of your time after each shower.

"Hey Jake?" Your voice calls out from the tiny bathroom door crack that you left open before you hopped in the shower, "Is my phone out there? Do you mind bringing it to me?"

Fuck.

Jake shifts on the couch. Taps his foot on the ground. Returns your phone to its original spot. Clears his throat.

"Don't you want to get dressed first?" he calls back, quite timidly.

He can hear you stop moving around in the bathroom. Probably telling yourself what an odd response that was. To be fair, it was an odd question, considering the fact that you two have been together for so long, it’s not like he hasn’t seen you undressed before...intentionally or not. 

Next thing he knows, the steam is rolling out of the bathroom door and you're stepping out in your towel, eyebrows raised.

"If you didn't want to get up from the couch, you could've just said so, you lazy butt," you smirk at him as you walk towards him and the couch, leaving a faint trail of water drops behind you. Jake's eyes follow your figure as you go to grab your phone and lift the screen towards yourself.

That's when he freezes. You do too.

You cock your head, as if asking yourself why it was disabled. He can hear the gears in your head turning.

"Jake, did you try to unlock my phone?"

He runs through all the possible excuses he could blurt out. Come on Jake, think of something! But he knows he can't lie to you.

Too many beats of silence pass by.

"Maybe," he finally says—or more like murmurs. He looks up to you like a child looking up at their mom, who just them caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. To his surprise, you don't show any hint of anger. A flash of confusion—and is that worry he sees?—crosses your face for a split second before you shrug and turn towards your room to change, dropping the subject. It was natural for you two to use each other's phones anyways. So then why did you have that look of worry?

Jake knows you well, a little too well. But that's what you love about him. He can easily read all your emotions. One of the many things he picked up from dating you for almost two years now. But why would you care if he tried to get into your phone? Why would that worry you? All the possibilities run through head and his own worry begins to increase. He trusts you. He does.

So then why does the thought bother him throughout the entire day? Why does he bring it up during dinner later that night, when you're both cuddled on your sofa, slurping take-out ramen while rewatching your favorite k-drama under the thick blanket that you always keep in your living room for nights like these?

"Huh? Of course I've heard from Jay today, we had that conversation about that stupid meme you boys kept laughing about in the groupchat we're all in, didn't we?" You answer him when he asks if you've heard from Jay lately. You sit up from your warm spot under Jake's arm to put your empty bowl on the coffee table in front of you. When you lean back, you look up at him,

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh, it's nothing, just wondering," he says, avoiding your eyes by keeping his own trained on the series currently playing on your TV. This would be your third time rewatching this series together. He would never complain to you though, he knows how much you love it and if he were being honest, he was secretly attached to the characters—not that he would ever tell you, he would never hear the end of it from you and the boys.

"You're being weird. Just tell me, or did you forget that I can practically read your mind," you say with a giggle and shove to his side, the one you were currently warmly cuddled into. Jake wasn't the only one who learned how to read emotions; you could read him just as well as he could read you. And like you, that's one of the many things he loved about you. But maybe not in this case.

He toyed around with the contents inside his ramen bowl with his chopsticks.

"I just..." God, how does he word this? Why was he having trouble explaining it? You were the easiest person to talk to. To him, you were the only person he could tell everything to.

"Jaywastextingyouabunchearlier," he blurts out quickly, but not quickly enough for you to miss it.

He feels you shift under his arm. He feels the air in the room shift. Tension.

"What?" Now you're sitting upright, legs criss-crossed in front of you on the couch but turned, so your body is completely facing him. He mirrors you, sitting up to put his ramen bowl next to yours on the surface, but he stays facing the TV.

"Your phone kept going off because of him when you were showering," he says with a little more confidence. But inside, he was nervous as hell, the same nervous as when he asked you out for the first time many moons ago. But it's too late to back out now, he brought it up first, anyways. Guess we're having this conversation now, good going Jake!

"Is that why you tried unlocking my phone earlier? I mean I thought you were just trying to leave selfies on my phone like you always do but you were trying to read my texts?" You question, slightly raising your soft voice. He doesn't know how to react, he hates confrontation.

"It wasn't like that, Jay just kept spamming you and like I—why was he even texting you in the first place? Then your phone got disabled because you changed your password, which you never do by the way, so I–"

"I changed it because my little sister kept getting into my phone when I went to visit my family yesterday! Did you really think I was hiding something from you? You know I can text whoever I want, right? You don't own me."

Okay so now he's managed to make you angry. Good going Jake, part 2!

"Okay but what does Jay need from you so bad that he has to send you like 50 messages at once?" He's standing now. So are you, eyebrows furrowed together as you collect your bowls from the table.

Standing there, bowls in hand, you say, "Jake, that's none of your business! It wasn't even that big of a deal, I don't know why you felt the need to nosy around."

"Well, if he's texting you non-stop, then obviously it's a big deal! We wouldn't even be having this conversation if you would just tell me what you guys were talking about," he murmurs back, eyes narrowing. You scoff as you trail into your kitchen. He follows behind and stops at the other side at your kitchen island as you place the dirty dishes into the sink.

"No, we're having this conversation because you obviously don't trust me! It doesn't matter what we were talking about, it doesn't matter who I was texting! I could be texting your mother and I shouldn't have to tell you what we were talking about! That's why we're having this conversation," you say as you turn back to face him from the other end.

He hates this. He hates fighting with you (which is a very, very rare occasion). He hates that you think he doesn't trust you. He hates his insecurity eating at him, telling him to keep questioning you on why you and Jay were talking in the first place. He was aware that you were close with his friends, but it wasn't until the texts he realized just how close you are with them. It's not that he didn't trust you, he just didn't know how to act when it came to you and other guys. God knows how he got lucky enough to meet you, let alone date you, so the thought of him losing you to someone else actually terrified him. Not only were you his first real relationship, but he wanted you to be his first and only one in life. You were it for him.

"Why did he text you." He deadpans from his side of the kitchen.

You scoff with a hint of exasperation. "You're kidding me."

You stare at him. He stares back, quirking an eyebrow, as if restating the same question back, as if testing you.

You're fuming now. Why was he making it so hard? Why was he doubting you? Out of frustration, you start laughing, which scares him. That can't be good.

"Fine. You wanna know so bad? Take a look,"  you're one tone level away from screaming as you take your phone out of your pocket, unlock it, and open up your conversation with "bluejay park", sliding the phone across the island to reach him.

Jake stares at the phone which now lies there, unlocked, facing him. Isn't this what he wanted? It is, right? That's why he started this dreaded argument with you in the first place.

Then why does he feel so fucking awful?

He looks back up at you, to see you sighing and looking up at the ceiling, as if trying to force your forming tears back into your eyes.

Yup, he feels horrible.

"Happy? Happy to know we were just trying to plan a surprise birthday party for you but you and your jealously just had to know huh, Jake?" You quickly state, voice cracking, as you tried not to choke up. You weren't sad that he found out about the surprise. You were sad that it felt like he didn't trust you. That he thought you were the type of person to do god knows what behind his back. You hated the feeling of not being trusted. Especially by Jake, of all people.

"Fuck."

Jake's face (and heart) falls with the most broken expression you've ever seen. But you're too sad, angry, tired (a mix of all?) to care. Your only goal right now is to not let him see you cry.

You hurry past him, across your apartment, and into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you, leaving behind a shocked, and regretful, Jake.

His heart shrinks when he hears the door slam shut and a little more when he looks down at the still unlocked phone in front of him. He didn't have the heart in him to look at it anymore. Of course he trusted you, he knew what you said was the truth.

He mentally screams at himself for assuming the worst––for thinking that you, a literal angel, would betray him.  First, he thought he was losing you to someone else. Now, he was afraid he just lost you through his own actions. 

He hesitantly sulks over to your door, softly knocking when he reaches it.

"Y/N?"

No response.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry. I didn't know, I let my—”

"Jake just please leave me alone for now," he hears you painfully say from a distance, meaning you're on your bed. He knows the door's unlocked—the lock on your door hasn't been working for a long time now, despite the many times he tells you to talk to your landlord about it. But he doesn't find it in him to open it. He knows he messed up. If he saw you in there right now, crying, he wouldn't know what to do. He wouldn't know what he would to do himself, knowing he was the reason behind your tears.

He nods in silence, knowing you can't see him, but does so anyways and returns to his spot on the couch. He could leave right now, go back to the dorm with the rest of the guys, let you have your space like you wanted. But his heart hurts at the idea of leaving you sad, angry, or a combination of both. He can't leave this unresolved. He fucked up, he has to fix it.

And so he sits on your couch for another hour. The clock on the wall behind him continues to tick as the silent tension in your apartment continues to grow. When it hits 11pm and he's sure you've slumbered off into sleep, he quietly enters your room.

He can see your figure in the dark, your back facing the door as you're curled up into yourself under the comforter. He feels his heart drop a little more when he imagines you crying in that position from earlier. He slowly peels the comforter open and gets into his side of the bed, careful not to bother your sleeping figure.

Laying there, staring up at the ceiling, he's never felt more like a stranger in your bed. It's not that he hasn't slept over before, god knows he's probably slept over at your place more than he has in his own bed. But right now, in this moment, he just felt awful. Like he didn't deserve to be in such close proximity to you. How could he be deserving? He violated your privacy, made you feel like you weren't trusted, doubted your relationship.

These thoughts run through Jake's head as he stares up at your ceiling fan, wishing he could turn back time to a few hours ago, before he checked your phone, before he let his insecurities get to the best of him.

You can feel the dip he makes in the bed behind you when he gets in. Of course you're not asleep. There's no way sleep could reach you when you had the recent events constantly replaying in your head like a broken record.

You knew Jake with all your heart. You didn't have to look at him to know he was probably laying there, hurt, staring up at the ceiling, drafting what to say once you wake up—or once he knows you're actually still awake.

You decide to break the tension by turning to lay on your other side, facing him.

You were wrong. Thanks to the little sliver of moonlight shining through your sheer curtains, you can see him, now laying on his side, already looking at you with so much regret in his eyes. You can almost hear the cracks in your heart physically forming.

His eyes widen when he realizes you're still awake. He opens his mouth to say something, but not before you quickly shift over to his side of the bed and embrace him in a tight hold, burying your face into his chest. Without any hesitation, he returns the gesture, arms holding your body as close to him as possible. As if once he let go, he'd lose you forever.

He lets out a sigh of relief as he breathes you in. He didn't even know he was holding his breath all this time.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry Y/N," he mutters into your hair. He feels his hoodie getting wet from where you buried your face. He pulls you closer, if that's even possible, feeling his own eyes heating up with sadness. He would never forgive himself for making you feel this way.

"You know I trust you right? Please know that. I shouldn't have assumed the worst when I saw your phone. I...I let my insecurities get to the best of me."

You move your head from its home on his chest to look up at him, as if asking him to elaborate. This was new to you, you didn't know he held insecurities in your relationship. But it wasn't because of you, no, you were his entire world. Losing you meant losing everything.

Jake's never been the best at saying his feelings. That's why it took him so long (with the help of his six best friends) to finally confess how he felt about you. He was afraid of letting people in if they could easily walk out. Maybe that's why he never let anyone into his life before you. But oh, were you an exception. The second he met you, he knew he was fucked. But thank god he did, because thanks to you, he's been able to be more open, more vulnerable. He's able to talk to you about anything and everything. He doesn't have that same fear of losing people anymore, not when he has you in his life to reassure him every step of the way. But right now, in this moment, he doesn't know how to tell you that his new fear was, in fact, just losing you.

The sheer idea of you not being a part of his life anymore terrified him. 

"I hope you know you're never going to lose me Jake, if that's what you're insecure about," you softly mutter as you wrap your free arm that's not stuck in between both your bodies around him to gently play with the ends of his hair. It's as if you could read his mind, he loves that you know him so well.

"It just sucks that you could even think I would ever do something as awful as what you were assuming...with one of your closest friends nonetheless," you continue.

"I know. I know, and I feel terrible. I'm so sorry. I know you would never do anything remotely close to that, and I know you would never intentionally try to keep anything from me," he sighs. He shifts so he can lie down on his back, bringing you with him to lie on his chest, never letting you go once. "It's just...I just don't know what I'd do if I ever lost you Y/N. Everyday, I ask myself what heroic thing I must've done in my past life to deserve this life with you and I can't help but think you could just as easily be stripped away from me."

As much as your heart breaks listening to him rant, you feel your love for him grow even more. You knew how hard it was for him to put his true emotions into words, and him telling you this reminded you how much trust he had in you.

After some moments of silence, moments of him drawing random shapes onto your back, moments of you two just holding each other like it was the end of the world, you speak up.

"I love you. I'm sorry for making you doubt yourself—"

"No, it's not your fault, I can't help but think things like that. I just don't know what I did to deserve you, and I know that I need to be mo–"

"Babe let me finish," you say with a little giggle in your tone. He immediately stops and mutters a little "sorry". How cute, you tell yourself.

"I was gonna say," you look back up at him so you're making direct eye contact now. "You're the only one that's ever on my mind, Jake. I can't help the way you think, but I can assure you that there is no one else I would rather be with. And I mean that for the rest of life."

You snuggle back into the comfortable hoodie he's currently wearing (you make a mental note to yourself to steal it from him later) and decide to ease the tension,

"So you're stuck with me for life, sorry to inform you Mr. Sim."

Jake lets out a laugh, looking down at you to see you returning his smile with a cheeky one.

"I love you. So much," he says so sincerely, so genuinely, that you almost tear up again from how content you were. Now you were asking yourself, what did you do to deserve him?

Jake Sim is not a jealous person.

No, he just loves you.

A lot.

[faggotgamzee]

hello i have a skephalo vampire au that ill never write but i want it out of my head, a plot outline under the cut, feel free to do whatever the fuck you wanna do with this id just love to see it if you do

Skephalo vampire au: Bbh meets skeppy in the most unfortunate of circumstances, 12 year old skeppy gets bitten and kept as a vampire spawn with no will and servant to the vampire that bit him, bbh and his mentor raid the place and kill all the vampires, bbh takes pity on young skeppy, not being capable of killing a child he decides to feed him the blood of the vampire that bit him to free him of the trance and orders him to run, unbeknownst to his mentor. Time skip 8 years later skeppy has left his hometown where he was bitten and is doing very well for himself, he is a very adept vampire with a clan thats like a family (think idots, invadedlands gang) he is rich and invests in real estate (lol) but tells people he is a magician for a living. Vampires in this au can be in the sun but only for short amounts of time otherwise they’ll get bad skin burns eventually think 2-3 hours max, skeppys strong suit is that he can stay out in the sun double the amount and skeppy is very adept at using vampire compulsion in a way that makes people not realize, it’s very soft and more of a suggestion and planting ideas in people's heads he is also very good at blending in with normal people. Skeppy decides he wants to go back to where he grew up on a whim one day, either to confront his past or something like that, everyone disagrees with him and the he shouldn't because that area isnt a safe space for vampires due to vampire hunters but he decides to hell with their warnings and leaves, they all follow him one by one eventually because theyre worried for him and theyre not gonna leave him alone in case he gets in trouble In almost a string of fate type deal he immediately runs into bbh in a bakery/coffee shop looking for muffins, skeppy recognizes bbh and is almost floored he is just standing there staring at him in shock before he realizes he should probably act normal, he says hi and then he is worried at first that bbh will recognize him but he doesn't skeppy has changed very much from when he was 12, skeppy almost considers following bbh but he knows he is a hunter and doesn't want to risk it, instead he camps out the shop hoping to see him again and he does, bbh comes in every couple days for muffins and coffee After a while he works up the courage to approach him out of impulse and to talk to him he doesn't know what compels him but he needs to know more about him Essentially he tries super hard to befriend him, after a couple false assumptions about dating and a LOT of suspicion and shut downs, bbh agrees to hang out with him after skeppy tells him he is a magician and he gets roped in to do a show for kids that bbh teaches and skeppy is floored thats the thing that gets him to open up Bbh hasnt been a hunter in a long time, he works as a teacher’s assistance for elementary kids, he does become a sort of a mentor to the dteam in terms of vampire hunting picking them up like strays over the years, dream especially is very gungho about being a hunter after a bad experience with werewolves and he is very good at studying and the reputation of the area being dangerous for the paranormal comes from him (i think itd be cool if he gets bit and turned into a vampire later on and skeppy gives his help and its a secret between them)

George comes from a family of witches/warlocks so he is already familiar with the paranormal he met bbh when they were both highschool age and they kinda just.. Knew that the other knew and stuck together Sapnap was bad’s first stray he (dream being second) that he picked up after saving him he was orphaned after a real bad vampire attack and sapnap just kinda stuck to him like glue bad tried to avoid him but sapnap is persistent and real quickly bad kinda just warmed up to him and started teaching him and took on a more father figure role for him Everyone jokes that skeppy really seems to want to date bad cuz skeppy is obsessed with bad and no one realizes why skeppy is so fascinated by bad in that he saved his life years ago, he knows bad would kill him if he knew what he was so he keeps it a secret and he is very good at blending in, he keeps wanting to see how far he can take it and after a bet from one of the idots (they dont know bad is a hunter) that he wouldnt be able to drink bad’s blood he takes it to a next level and starts a dance between them, bbh is immediately suspicious of skeppy and shares that suspicion with dteam only to be met with something along the lines of not everyone who is interested in you is out to kill you Skeppy enjoys toying with bad and seeing how far he can go, its maddeningly harder than he thought to drink his blood, bbh is very prepared and very vigilante, any attempts of following him home are moot he always loses him, he still manages to fuck with him, bad is always doubting if skeppy is a vampire or not until he isnt either via dream getting bit and skeppy helping him and it coming out or something like that, but its important for it to come out after bad and skeppy have grown inseperably close so he doesnt kill him immediately lmao Notable mentions technoblade and skeppy both were orphan vampires in a city and have a sort of camaraderie between them

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Little Bones 3

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series); harassment, general creepiness.

This is dark! (biker) Thor x chubby!reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: You’re a city girl stuck in a small town, but Birch isn’t as sleepy as it seems.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown and When the Weight Comes Down

Note: Another random update of a series for y’all as I toil away at drabbles in between!

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Masterlist

Your skin crawled as you walked to work the next morning. The memories of the night before made you cringe and tuck your chin down as you kept your eyes ahead of you. You feared if you looked around, you might summon the incessant biker from his hole.

The library was as empty as any other day and you claimed your seat at the curved desk. You booted up and sipped from your thermos, the coffee bitter on your tongue as you watched Melissa appear from the non-fiction section. She sat in her own chair and yawned as she signed on.

The monotony of Birch was sobering after the night in the dank bar. The bikers and their own little world, a microcosm of the worst types all in one place. You went about your usual tasks, there were a few returns on the cart to put back on the shelves and you walked the shelves and checked for out of order codes.

The hours slaked by like the peaks of a mountain against ancient gales. The stale lights made the days stretch to tedium and the grey without added to the sense of listlessness. Colin’s low snores escaped the back room and Melissa sorted through bent paperbacks in a far aisle to put out for the Sunday penny sale.

As the windows darkened, Colin gave his usual grumbled farewell and further mussed his wavy hair as he tried to smooth it out. It didn’t matter much as he covered it with the old faded Leafs toque and left through the automatic doors. His shadow was soon followed by Melissa as she looked forward to seeing her daughter and watching some new program on the local channel.

You were the last as you walked the aisles before final lock-up. The automatic doors were off as you checked for unlikely stragglers. You came back to the round desk and flipped off the lights for all but the entry way and the back office. You pushed open the door and locked the outside ones with a jangle of keys. As you turned back, you gripped the big key to the back door and shook your head.

You stepped through the space between the inner doors and stared at the man behind your desk. He sat in your chair, your purse sat before him on the counter as he shoved a large hand inside. You crossed your arms and watched Thor as he pulled out your coral coloured wallet and unsnapped it.

“What are you doing?” You asked harshly. “How did you get in here?”

He snickered and pulled out a card and lifted it up to look at it closely. He leaned back and flicked it with his thumb. “I knew you were a city girl.” He said.

“Get out. We’re closed.”

“Sorry, I’m late. I’m a busy man.” He slid the card back in place and searched the rest, uninterested by the few bills inside the fold and your various reward cards and outdated alumni ID.

“Late? You don’t seem the reading type. We don’t have that many audiobooks.” You neared and grabbed the other handle of your purse. “There’s an app for that now.”

Again, he laughed and dropped your wallet into the depths of your purse. He released it and pushed his shoulders back as you dragged the bag off the desk. He tilted his head and held up your phone in its shiny lavender case. He smirked as the screen lit up and he swiped it open. You never should have added the library as a trusted location.

“Hmm,” he turned it to face him and scrolled with his thumb, “I think you’re missing a number in here.”

“Give it.” You reached for the phone and he held it away from you like some annoying teenager. “Hey… Thor! Give me it. It’s mine!”

His blonde lashes flashed and he looked at you with delight. “Oooh, I love it when you say my name.”

“Stop. You can’t be in here and you certainly can’t--” 

You swiped for the phone again and he caught your arm. He yanked you so hard you almost left the floor and you dropped your purse and keys. He held you over the counter as he twisted your wrist just a little.

“And who exactly is going to make me leave?”

He kept his thick fingers locked around your wrist as he searched your phone. You struggled with him but it only sent a violent jolt up to your elbow.

“I can do whatever I want and you can’t do anything to stop me. In fact, there’s no one in this town who can.” His jaw clenched and he locked your phone. “Well, kitten, I’m going to hold onto this.” He let go of you and stood as you retracted your arm and rubbed your sore wrist. “And when you want to be a good girl for me, you can come find me and ask for it nicely.”

“Ask? You’re crazy. It’s mine. You’re--” you sputtered.

You swallowed as his hand balled to a fist and his brow twitched. It was the first hint of anything but amusement. It was much more troubling, a slight tell. He was angry.

“I’ve been nice, kitten. I like you and your claws but don’t scratch too deep.” He warned as he backed away. “I’ll see my way out unless of course… you would take me up on my offer from last night.”

“Go. Keep the fucking phone.” You snarled and reached for your purse and the keys. 

You stood and watched as he ran his tongue just below his teeth and turned away. He snaked his way through the back office and you heard the heavy metal door whine in his stead. You locked the inner doors and grabbed your jacket from the rack.

You went to the same door and hit the lights. You activated the security system and stepped out with a cautious look around the vacant parking lot. You locked the door and headed around the side of the brick building and out into the glow of the streetlights.

You could get a new phone, that was nothing, just a chunk out of your check. He could search your contacts, your apps, your phones, he’d find nothing but the pathetic life of a thirtysomething wash out. That wasn’t what worried you. 

He was watching you. He had to be. He knew when you were alone and he knew how to get in. You might not see him but you were certain he could see you. You shivered and pulled your hate over your head and puffed out a cloud. 

💀

You went home angry but slightly addled from the encounter. You watched over your shoulder the entire way home and locked your door with the tarnished chain. You found it hard to settle as you debated marching over to the bar and demanding your phone back and opening the wine you hadn’t touched since your impulsive purchase. You really hated Thor but you knew you could push him much further before he did something much worse.

You ignored your wrath and ate your dinner in front of the television before hiding under your covers and watching the snowfall until you fell asleep. Every night was as dull as the one before and the morning always came too quickly.

You woke and readied for your day with a cup of home-brewed Colombian roast and packed your lunch. You searched for your phone for two seconds before you remembered where it was. Your neck prickled as you thought of Thor with access to all your information and the barren social media accounts. 

The snow was even deeper that day and you fought through the thick carpet. The library felt twice as far by the time you reached it and you were panting as you entered and shook off the powder. You took your usual spot at the usual time with your usual thermos and usual disillusion.

You whiled away the hours without the distraction of your phone. You realised how easily this man could torture you and not even be in the same place as you. You went searching in the aisles for something to do and scraped the gum off the bottom of the tables. A disgusting task but work nonetheless.

When the end of the day came, you were all too happy to go home and hide under your duvet with a tea and a sitcom. You hated this. You would go to the city and get a new phone if you had too. God, how much would that cost?

💀

The days slogged by and on your first free day, you were too tired to make the drive out of town. You resigned to your procrastination, instead taking a short walk down the main street to Babs’. Your usual order, but cinnamon instead of caramel in your latte, and a scone to enjoy at home.

The snow remained as thick as days before. You looked out the bakery window in dread as you awaited your order at the end of the counter. You still caught yourself reaching for your phone. If you waited too long, you might not even be able to make it into the city. Well, you could always order something online. 

The door chimed as Steve’s girl came to the other side of the counter and placed your latte out for you. She smiled and you thanked her but her eyes rounded as you heard boots come close. You turned, barely surprised by the man who was better described as your shadow those days. 

Since his visit to the library, Thor had made himself known in several instances, every day as you walked home he was outside the asp, watching. Other times, he’d be waiting by the steps of the library, mocking you silent as he pulled out your phone. You had too much pride to ask for it back and you knew that it would take more than asking.

You tried to sidestep him and he blocked your path. The foam pushed out through the hole in the plastic lid and you sighed.

“What do you want?” you hissed.

“I should ask you. I don’t know many girls these days can go days without their lifeline,” he taunted, “You know, it’s dangerous how much of ourselves we keep on these little things.”

He patted his jacket where he no doubt had your phone hidden. You looked down at your latte and thought of popping the lid off and tossing it at him. That wouldn’t be any good. You shrugged and looked past him.

“I gotta go--”

“Is there anything I can get you, Thor?” Steve’s girl eked out as if her voice could barely fit through her windpipe.

“I’ve come for something sweet but I think I found it,” he smirked, his eyes stuck to you.

“Give it up,” you scoffed and elbowed past him. He chuckled and followed you to the door as you sped up, your treads squeaking on the salt-stained floor.

“On you? Never,” he purred as you pulled the door open and he caught it behind you.

“You can break the phone for all I care,” you snarled, “just leave me alone.”

He kept up with you as flakes gathered on your scarf and you peered down the street and ran across. His boots crunched in time with yours as he lingered in your peripheral. You spun as you came to a stop on the other side and scowled.

“Jesus, I thought dogs were supposed to be obedient,” you snapped.

“I can be,” he winked and reached to brush the snow from the hair poking out from under your cap, “I’ll gladly get to my knees for you, kitten.”

You snapped at his hand and he pulled away with a surprised laugh. You gritted your teeth and took a step back.

“I won’t tell you again and I’m getting real tired of this.”

“You keep forgetting who you’re meowing at, kitten,” he stepped closer and you backed away again.

You turned and flitted away from him. You had not planned for him in your day off and you weren’t going to let him ruin it. You wanted to go home and enjoy your coffee, alone. However, that meant leading him to your front door. You stopped again.

“Go,” you pointed across the street at the Asp, the town’s marquee.

“Oh, kitten, you’re so cute,” he tugged on your scarf and you swatted him away.

“Alright, that’s it!” you smashed your cup against his chest and the hot liquid steamed as it splashed across his front and dripped down his leather jacket. 

He held out his arms as he looked down at himself and slowly back to you. His blue eyes dilated as the ends of his golden hair sopped with caffeine. It was too late to apologize, too futile. You sputtered and quickly turned away.

You were thankful when you didn’t hear him behind you. You stopped and peaked back at the corner of the next side street. He watched you still and even at a distance you could see his rage.

If you hoped he’d lose interest, that optimism was dead.

💀

A snow storm stagnated the already stale town and you could guess that the highway was even worse. You could replace your sim online but that would take at least a week to arrive and with the weather, likely longer. It might be quicker to wait out the blizzard. You stayed in limbo, reluctant to pull the trigger.

You kept to your apartment for the rest of the weekend, with no reason or want to leave. On your way, you didn’t see him. You sighted a few figures through the falling powder but they were faces familiar to the streets. You kept an eye over your shoulder, glancing around every few steps.

You avoided the cafe. He might look for you there, he might even be waiting for you. You sat down at your desk but felt out of place. He could walk through those doors like he had only days before. He could taunt you and tease you. What made you so antsy was that he could do worse than that. You knew it but you’d let your temper get the best of you. A wasted latte might have cost you everything.

By the end of your shift, it was decided. You were leaving Birch. No one could know until you were gone. Not Melissa, not Colin, no one. You old all-weathers would have to get you down the highway, just to the city so you could lose yourself there until you had a real plan. Even as the snow piled higher and higher, there could be no delay. You’d waited long enough.

Paranoid, you were certain you’d be met again on your path home. The town was dead as the soft blanket covered the ground. The flakes turned to mounds and the tops of your boots let in errant clumps of snow. The store may as well been closed for the day, the library had been little different but its lethargy was expected. Even The Asp seemed to have dulled with the pale gusts.

You packed a bag. One. The apartment came furnished and you never cared much for miscellany. Anything you left behind was replaceable. You went down the back stairs and cleaned off your small Focus. Used but reliable. You were out of breath as you climbed into the driver’s seat and threw the brush in the back.

You drove carefully down the side streets, snaking around as you knew the main fair would give away your escape. You stopped at the sign that pointed to the highway ramp and wondered. 

What if he had got the clue? What if you were running from nothing?

You remember the look in his eye and shivered. No, that glimmer assured you that return to your mother’s was as wise as it would be torturous. You followed the arrow and took the curve steadily with your foot planted on the gas. The traffic was slow and cautious as headlights were barely visible through the snowfall.

You gripped the wheel tightly and let out a breath. You would be gone before he knew. You’d get a new phone, a new job, a new life. Even if it was just pay-as-go, a McDonald’s visor, and your mother’s couch for a while. What good was a job in a place like Birch anyway? Just as good as your irrelevant degree.

You were startled and nearly lost control as a set of lights appeared behind you in the next lane. They were dangerously close to dinging your rear bumper as the reckless driver took a u-turn right before the upcoming barriers. You wrinkled your brow as you glared at them through the white haze. What kind of maniac was pulling shit like that in this weather?

And then, they did hit you. A nudge but enough to send you veering in the thick lines of snow. You clutched the wheel and tried to steer into it, tried to right yourself as you were knocked again. Your heart was in your throat as the engine revved and you hit your brakes, not knowing what else to do as a third collision came.

You spun out and hit the cement wall along the far lane, narrowly missing another car as it pulled ahead. You stilled, your seatbelt saving your face from a smack against the wheel, and stared down the highway as you stared at oncoming traffic. You were completely turned around on the arm.

You caught your breath and reached for your purse. Fuck, you had no phone. What was that asshole thinking? It didn’t seem like an accident.

The car that had bullied you into a crash pulled up along the barrier. You watched in the rear view as the barely visible tail lights glowed and a dark figure appeared between the car and the concrete. You squinted as the man neared, a long coat flapped around his tall figure as he held his hand to his face.

He came up beside your car as you heard his voice muffled through the glass and tapped on your window. He bent and knocked again as you shot him the finger. You were ready to give him a piece of your mind. You rolled down the window with the manual crank and growled, “what the fuck!?”

“Can I have your name, darling?” he asked in a sinisterly familiar accent.

“Screw you! You almost killed me!”

He turned his phone out as you screeched at him and quickly put it back to his ear, “that sound like her?”

A deep voice rumbled in the speaker and the dark-hair man nodded as he shielded his face from the blowing snow, “you owe me, brother.”

“Who the fuck are you?” you spat and reached to your glovebox. You grabbed the heavy flashlight and swung it at him, “get away--”

He caught with a leather-gloved hand and glared back at you. He tucked away the phone in his jacket. His nostrils flared and his green irises caught fire. 

“Let’s not do this, darling,” he warned, “my brother has given me clearance to use whatever force necessary…” he pushed the button and pulled open your door as he wrenched away the metal flashlight, “and while he seems the bigger brute, I assure you his cruelty cannot match mine.”

[thefanficmonster]

The Five Scares (and one revenge)

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing 

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having a tendency to scare people, Corpse has gotten used to his friends being jumpy whenever he appears from the void into a Discord call with them. However, the one who has it the roughest with the spooks has to be his partner Y/N. Basically: The five times Corpse scared Y/N and the one time they scared him

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your lovely request it was a real joy to write and I had a ton of fun doing so! Hope you have equally as wonderful of a time if you happen to come across it and give it a read despite the long wait you’ve had to endure which I apologize for. Love, Vy ❤

I

Having had to go home for the night to keep an eye on their roommate’s dog, Y/N and Corpse agreed to have a video call before they fell asleep. They didn’t want to appear like that typical clingy and cheesy couple but after spending almost a whole week curled up in Corpse’s apartment, the two would feel each other’s absence to a very saddening degree to the point where they’d even forget the other isn’t around and would call out to them. 

Letting the call ring, Y/N’s hand comes up to smooth out their hair. However, the touch reveals to them that their hair needs a bit more than a simple tap or a pat to be tamed so while they wait for Corpse to answer the call, they quickly head to their bathroom. Flicking the light on, their reflection greets them with the underwhelming news of the actual state of their hair at the moment: an absolute mess. They proceed to do their best with the single hair-tie they have handy. A bobby pin or two would be neat but they have no time to go and grab one right now, seeing as how they can’t recall if they even brought them back from Corpse’s apartment. If they didn’t, they would have to search their roommate’s room for some which would take an even longer amount of time.

Eventually, they manage to tame it in something closely resembling a presentable ponytail and exit the bathroom feeling more exhausted than before. With a loud sigh, they crash onto their bed, face-first into the sea of pillows, groaning at the slight sting of their muscles relaxing at last.

“Y/N?“ The decently loud mention of their name by a deep, familiar yet sudden and unexpected voice startles them to the point of squealing and jumping an entire inch away from where they were positioned.

They look around their room in a frenzy, wondering where on Earth that voice came from and how it could be here with them right now.

“Y/N, you there?”, before they could locate it, it emerges once again, helping Y/N get an ide of where it’s coming from - somewhere in the messed up bed sheets.

“Corpse?“ They finally find their voice, “Y-yeah I’m here. Question is: how are you...“ and then it all clicks, causing them to twist their face in an expression of utter disappointment and bury it in the palms of their hands, groaning.

“You forgot about the video chat, didn’t you?“ Corpse asks, amusement not even attempted to be hidden in his voice.

“Yup.“

II

It’s been one hell of a day. Y/N’s college lectures exhausted them to a max and their six hour job following their classes did nothing to help them AT ALL. Quite the opposite actually. Makes sense why they look, move and talk the way they’re doing right now: like a ghost, zombie and an elder combined in one. To add to their misfortunes for the day, they were met with the mocking ‘OUT OF ORDER’ sign taped to the doors of the elevator, laughing in their face with the information that their hellish experience for the day is far from over.

Just the thought of having to climb to the fifth floor made their stomach turn in the most unpleasant way possible, but the though of how long that would take made matters even worse. Arriving at their designated apartment, they have every right to be pissed, cussing their heart out. 

However, then comes a new problem: the inability to pinpoint the correct key. They proceed to curse themselves, the keys, the door handle and the door itself before punching the poor wood that did no wrong and just stands here, serving its purpose of keeping unwanted people out of the apartment it’s guarding.

Following their anger outburst and front-door-abuse, they proceed to try finding the correct key once again, this time slightly more calmly as to not accidentally miss it in their frantic rifling.

Right as they’re about to try the third key, however, the door opens. Well, it’s opened by someone on the other side, that someone being none other than their boyfriend Corpse who’s currently staring at them wide-eyed, one eyebrow raised, the word ‘confused’ basically written across his face.

While he’s processing the sight in front of him, Y/N lets out a little scream, jumping back and away from the door, a hand placed over their chest as their wide eyes scan their boyfriend who now seems equally terrified as a result of their reaction.

“Corpse?!“ They manage to gasp, barely hearing their own voice over the loud thumping of their heart and the rush of blood in their ears, “What the hell are you doing here?!“

The confusion on Corpse’s face deepens, reaching whole new levels as his eyes gaze deeper into theirs, searching for the meaning behind their bizarre question. “You mean...at my own apartment? What am I doing, at home?“

For a few seconds, the two just stare blankly at one another, processing everything that’s just happened. Suddenly, it all just kinda caves for Y/N and they burst out laughing, doubling over, their arms clutching at their stomach as they do so. Their laughter is contagious, so Corpse can’t help but let out a few chuckles himself.

“Alright, you’ve been driven to insanity, I can tell.“ He mumbles at his reckless partner, coming up behind them and wraps his arms around them, lifting them up and carrying their laughing ass inside.

III

Finally deciding to sit down and get this damn project started, Y/N already feels like they’ve had enough of it, burnout already creeping in and threatening to ruin their work and trip them up every step of the way. It wouldn’t have been so bad had the subject not been one they absolutely despise and wish they could get out of studying but alas they’re stuck with it.

They equip their headphones as soon as they plant their butt on the desk chair in their tiny room in their tiny roommate-shared apartment, putting their Spotify playlist on shuffle as they open a blank Power Point document. They work better with music blasting in their ears since the silence tends to be too loud and distracting when they’re trying to focus. So, that way they can also sing their heart out in peace and not get disturbed by the sound of their own off-key singing. Win-win, basically.

Singing ‘Never Forget You’ by Zara Larsson and MNEK, they get a little carried away, ditching the project to enter a full-blown music video they can imagine down to the detail in their mind.

However, there’s a surprise awaiting them.

As soon as MNEK’s part of the song begins, another voice apart from his echoes through their headphones, singing along to the song. Freaking the fuck out, they let out a loud scream, smacking the headset off them, sending the object falling and landing on their laptop keyboard with a crash that only serves to further startle their roommate’s dog which comes to check if they are being attacked or something only to be disappointed by the lack of action.

When pushing the headphones off, they did so with a force strong enough to snap the cable out of the laptop entirely so now the room is filled with the sound of that same foreign voice laughing his ass off.

A voice that belongs to no other than Corpse Husband himself.

“You gotta learn to disconnect from Discord calls, Y/N.“ The fucker says, still cackling wholeheartedly at his partner’s misery.

Pissed off or not, Y/N would have to admit he’s got a point. But they’d also rather never speak again than admit it so...

“Fuck you!“ is what they say instead, seconds before disconnecting.

IV

Making breakfast is not something either Corpse or Y/N are used to, mostly cause they both either wake up late or skip the meal entirely. Regardless, having been given a day off from work and having no classes since it’s Saturday, Y/N saw no better way to start their day off than to prepare a nice breakfast for them and their boyfriend to enjoy. Problem is: they aren’t the most skilled in the kitchen. Sure they can scramble an egg or make mac and cheese, but in order to do it correctly they are not allowed to have distractions of any kind. Not even music, that’s how you know it’s serious.

Seeing as how Corpse has never seen them cook, he’s obviously unaware of theirs. The dummy straight up waltzes into the kitchen, unintentionally remaining unspotted and unheard by Y/N because he’s barefoot and because they have their back turned to him.

“Whatya cooking over there babe?“

Y/N’s focus bubble, being as thin as it is and considering they initially thought Corpse was still asleep, they have every right to let out the yelp they just did, dropping the egg they were gonna crack over the pan in said pan in its entirety - yes, shell and all.

A moment of silence commences: regretful on Corpse’s end and frustrated on theirs. Neither of them dares to say anything to avoid triggering the other. Well, that’s the case until Y/N decides enough’s enough and they turn to look at him, a wide, obviously fake smile plastered onto their face.

“Scrambled eggs, following a secret recipe, property of the L/N family.“

Seems like your pre-breakfast snack is an extra large dose of sarcasm, huh?

V

“So, how was your day? You sound pretty chipper so I take it wasn’t a nightmare like a few days ago.“ Corpse comments over the phone, listening to shuffling and shifting as Y/N moves around the apartment, getting ready to head out.

“It was great actually. Got some important results back and, not to brag or anything, but they were higher than I expected.“ They reply, a genuine wide grin refusing to leave their face as they silently count the amount of money they’ve got in their wallet. “I’m gonna go buy a cake so we can celebrate it. It’s no small deal, trust me, especially not when I initially thought I’d fail both these exams to the point of being pitied.“

“Wait...-“ Corpse attempts, his voice suddenly sounding strained and urgent but that’s the very reason he cannot seem to find or get the right words out of his system. Not that Y/N gives him any time to figure it out.

“No Corpse, you cannot change my mind. Cake and beers, we’re celebrating toni- SHIT!“ They scream as they throw open the front door, bumping square into someone standing on the other side, almost dropping their phone.

Taken aback by embarrassment and fear, they leap back, their eyes searching for the ones of the person whose personal space they just invaded. Well, to be fair, he was the one invading their personal space by standing right outside the door to their - well, to Corpse’s apartment.

The fear and irritation die down almost instantly when Y/N recognizes the person standing opposite them.

“Mind telling me why we’re talking on the phone when you could’ve come in and we could’ve had a normal person conversation?!“ They snap, ironically enough - they’re still holding the phone to their ear.

So is Corpse whos is smiling guiltily, “That’s why I called, I forgot my keys, but I got...carried...sorry.”

Well, at least this serves as proof Y/N’s not the only forgetful one.

                                                            ~  ~  ~

Corpse has been stuck in his recording room for four hours now, never stopping his stream to take care of his basic human needs such as eating or going to the bathroom. This behavior of his has Y/N worried sick and unable to focus on the task at hand - an assignment they’ve been trying to finish for two hours now, sitting with their computer on their lap and looking hopelessly at the blank Word document waiting for them to fill it up while they are waiting for it to start writing itself.

Seeing as how neither are gonna happen, not until Y/N puts their mind at ease, they slowly put the laptop aside, standing up to carefully skip on over to Corpse’s recording room to check on him, stopping by the kitchen to grab him a snack and a bottle of water along the way.

The door to the darkened room is open a crack, as usual, suggesting they can enter without knocking - this also means he’ll probably not hear them even if they knock so the whole gesture would be pointless. Not that Y/N has a tendency to knock or anything... Waltzing in, they find that the only light in the room is the very faint and dark glow of the computer screen which is displaying a dark and dingy room from a first-person view of the protagonist of whatever game Corpse’s currently playing.

“Corpse?!“ They whisper-yell/hiss at him, trying their best to grasp his attention without startling him - they don’t need to be told that the game is of the horror genre and the last thing they need is for their boyfriend to flip backwards and fall out of his chair because they scared the shit out of him. “Hey?!“

Neither attempts prove futile so, despite their best instincts telling them differently, they walk over to him and tap him on the shoulder. The reaction, while within the realm of expectancy, is a lot more startled than they expected, accompanied by a scream on top of all. They’d never heard him scream in fear before, it’s quite amusing if they’re being honest.

They suppress a snicker as Corpse’s wide open eyes meet their squinting ones in the darkness, “Y/N...babe...what is it? Is everything ok?”

Y/N rolls their eyes, “No, everything isn’t ok. Your unhealthy habit of forgetting to take care of yourself, for example.” They put the snack and the bottle on the his desk, giving him their best disappointed-parent look before turning on their heel to strut their way out of the room. However, just as they are about to make their exit, they stop right at the doorframe, giving their stunned one final glance over their shoulder with a smug smirk playing across their face, “Oh and by the way, that’s what I like to call revenge.” Just like that, they leave, pushing the door back into its previous position.

And boy, is it some sweet, sweet revenge.

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[thetriggeredhappy]

recently rediscovered your blog and read the fic from your dad spy au where scout starts out as the "guard" and then becomes scout from there and lemme tell you that shit put me on some s-tier brainrot. like a cranial decay type beat.

i had a concept in my head that instead of being hired as a guard, he could have been hired as a right hand man to the administrator like pauling, because i think hed be awesome in that position. like imagine having a personal merc who can get in fast and out even faster. but maybe he would stay in the base like the rest of them, sort of like a secret on call intel gatherer, who also maybe sometimes has to dig a couple graves. and also like, nobody on the team expects anything from him at first because its this 20 year old newbie kid. hes dressed in his formal clothes and he talks like somebody from relatively around boston but not quite. i can just imagine one day he comes back during a team dinner with his shirt half untucked and stained with blood, hair disheveled as he asks soldier if he can borrow his shovel, or him debriefing them for a mission when miss pauling is busy. same vibe as the fic i mentioned before but scout gets to have a job as cool as miss paulings. honestly id write it myself if i didnt have the attention span of a fly

anyways your scout content gives me life thank you

scout teamfortress but 20% more competent standing next to miss pauling teamfortress while she's doing her job and doing like silly quips and otherwise contributing nothing like it's a buddy cop film is literally my fucking ideal

(warnings for some canon-typical violence)

-

“Oh, Pauling, it’s good to see you again,” greeted the chairman, smiling in an imitation of a grandfather and clasping her hands perhaps too-kindly considering she barely knew him. “Young as ever, and still so stylish, I see. And who’s the new fellow?”

“He’s just here to help with transport, Mr. Montgomery, nothing unusual,” Miss Pauling replied, returning his smile and adjusting her glasses. “Heavy cases, you know how it is.”

“Of course, I remember you almost toppling clean over last time we made a trade!” Montgomery agreed, frowning at the memory. “You’ll pull a muscle that way, better to be careful. It’s a pleasure to meet you, young man. And your name?”

“Mr. Normandy, sir,” the new kid replied easily enough despite his slight East Coast accent, giving the man a firm handshake, expression neutral and stony, the picture of professionalism. Internally, Pauling breathed a sigh of relief.

“Firm grip there, young man,” Montgomery praised, nodding approvingly. “Tennis player, perhaps? Or golf?”

“Baseball, sir,” he replied, still evenly. “First baseman.”

“Ah! Of course! Were you any good?” Montgomery joked.

“At everything but playing in front of the crowds, otherwise I’d be in the major leagues,” he replied, tilting his head just slightly to imply that he was joking, his sunglasses glinting at the movement, and Montgomery barked a laugh.

“I like this one, Miss Pauling!” Montgomery said, and Pauling just barely caught herself from physically relaxing at it.

“We do too, Mr. Montgomery,” she agreed. “I was under the impression that you’re very busy today, so we won’t keep you for too long, we just wanted to sort out the final details surrounding the manufacturing rights for the—“

“—Pacific Northwest branch, up into British Columbia and Alberta, of course,” Montgomery agreed, nodding faintly. “Of course, of course.” He turned to regard his own man in a dark suit, the one standing to the right, who appeared to be unsuccessfully trying to stare down Normandy, who was completely ignoring him. “My briefcase, please.”

The man handed over the briefcase, and Montgomery put it on his desk, opening it and pulling out a sheaf of papers. “All our requests are submitted and approved, at this point we just had a few dustbins to take care of regarding initial percentages and making sure everything is wired to the correct accounts, which names are undisclosed, things like that,” Pauling explained as he glanced through the papers.

“Right, right, everything looks good here,” the man murmured, nodding to himself, sending his long-white hair just ever-so-slightly out of place. “I’m assuming these more sensitive documents should be sent some way besides through the mail?”

“If you finish them today I can take them with me, otherwise either me or Mr. Normandy can return to pick them up at your convenience,” she replied, to which Normandy gave a singular nod.

“Oh, it would only take me a short while,” Montgomery said, waving a hand. “We have a lovely lounge just down the hall from here if you’d prefer to wait there, it should only take me ten, fifteen minutes at most. In the meantime, I do believe there’s also the manner of payment for services rendered.”

Miss Pauling tilted her head just slightly to one side, confused.

“I arranged with Helen already,” Montgomery explained, not looking up from where he was initialing a few things. “The payment, rather than being wired, she asked to be made in material investment. A venture of mine from years ago that she’s willing to sit on. Rather than gold or bonds, she agreed to take some old currency of mine that my family collected, from early 18th century New Zealand and Australia. Monetarily it’s worth around the same, and I’m quite a bit attached to it to be entirely frank, but it was at her request to buy the whole collection from me, and after years of the work we’ve been doing together, well, I’d never trust it with anyone else.”

He gestured to the other man, the one on his left, who stepped forward to hand him a manila envelope, which he passed to Pauling.

“Inside is both keys, the door alarm codes, and all other security information for the building where the collection is being stored. They’ll ask for a few codes and confirmation of identity, only because several other art collections and artifacts are being stored there by other affluent individuals such as myself.”

“Thank you, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling said, taking the envelope gratefully.

“Think nothing of it, my dear. Helen talked me into it all her own,” he said easily enough. “Now, gentlemen, if you would let Miss Pauling and Mr. Normandy into our lounge? I should have these wrapped up before any of us can even think about lunch, eh?”

One of the suits showed the two of them through the doors and down the hallway, through two doors bracketed by similar suits who simply nodded politely at Pauling and ticked their chins at Normandy as they passed them.

Normandy posted up beside the door for all of three seconds before they shut and Pauling pulled her glasses up, rubbing at the bridge of her nose and making a vaguely distressed noise. He then promptly relaxed, instead leaning his hip against an armchair probably worth the same amount as a small car. “So, uh, we’re glad that he’s giving us a bunch of commemorative coins from when dinosaurs still walked the earth?” he asked just below normal speaking volume, eyebrows raised.

“Yes. Very glad. Because unlike about six people total on the planet, he hasn’t figured out yet how valuable those are.”

“What, is a picture of a kangaroo on some copper really gonna make up for a couple hundred thousand American dollars?” Normandy asked, sounding doubtful.

“Not copper. Something else,” she replied. “I can’t tell you much more about it other than that, but these coins are made of something priceless to us. And to the Administrator.”

“…Love? Memories? The magic of family?” he joked, cracking a smile, and she rolled her eyes, moving to open the envelope and start reading the papers inside. “Hey, uh, not to question whether my job should exist, but what the hell am I doing here, exactly? Besides carrying a briefcase. Like, chivalry isn’t dead but I really don’t think you need me carrying your bags and holding the door for you.”

“You’re helping with security, basically,” she replied, adjusting her glasses to squint at tiny handwriting about the collection. “Mr. Montgomery is trustworthy, but he mostly hires out to… well, people like us. His security detail is mostly people we’d rather have screened, freelancers, stuff like that. A lot of people we contract out to are like that. Most of them have heard about me and know better than to try and pull something, since I can hold my own pretty well, but if they haven’t, seeing a second person might persuade them to think it over again.”

“Oh, so I’m like, uh, when it says ‘tow zone’ next to the no parking signs even though nobody checks, or when they’ve got a camera in the corner of the store that isn’t even plugged into anything,” he said, and the looked up at him, confused. “Like, uh, what’s the word… I’m a casual deterrent.”

“Sure,” she said, because it sounded like he knew what he was talking about, shuffling the papers back away and closing the envelope again, making a note to ask the Administrator if she should change their current containment procedures to be closer to Mr. Montgomery’s. “Just… if there’s a fight, you deal with it, otherwise you just stand there and look like you’re paying attention.”

“That’s what the sunglasses are for,” he agreed. “I was blinking morse code at the guy across from me literally the whole time.”

“You know morse code?” Pauling asked, surprised.

“Just the alphabet, ‘S.O.S.’, and ‘ass’.”

She rolled her eyes again, and that’s when the door opened.

She expected Mr. Montgomery, not one of the men in suits. “Excuse me, both of you, if you don’t mind,”the man said, accent having the slightest English tilt to it, a Londoner if Pauling had to guess. “You’re Miss Pauling, the Mann Co. affiliate, yes?”

“That’s me,” she agreed, hesitant, and glanced at Normandy.

“I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. Mr. Montgomery have you the wrong envelope on accident,” the man said apologetically, extending a hand forward. “We apologize for this unfortunate mix-up, it’s really quite embarrassing, but those documents are sensitive and we’ll be needing to see them back now.”

Pauling looked at him, and within a moment, shifted her expression. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she agreed, nodding. “No, right, of course. These aren’t the papers for the currency collection?”

“I’m afraid not,” the Brit agreed, head tilting just slightly, hand still extended, moving a fraction further forward.

“Well, thank goodness we figured out now and not with us halfway back,” she joked, and moved to hold the folder closer to her body. “I’ll take this right back to Mr. Montgomery, then.”

“He’s sent me to correct the error,” the man explained simply.

“Right,” she said, and saw in her periphery that Normandy had already started sneaking a hand in towards his primary, clearly having pieced together something she was only suspecting. “We can bring this to his office, then, right down the hall.”

“You misunderstand,” the man said, taking a step forward again. “I’ll be taking it to his office myself.”

“That’s funny,” Pauling said. “I didn’t realize you had clearance to be in there. Or to be carrying a semi-automatic instead of a standard handgun.”

The Brit reached for the semi-automatic, and before he could even get it out properly, Normandy hit one clean shot to the side of his head and another to his thigh, sending him crumpling to the ground.

Pauling had only as far as pulling her own handgun free, thumb on the safety, and breathed a sigh of relief, glancing over at Normandy, shifting to more comfortably hold her gun. “Quick reflexes,” she noted.

“Just noticed a lot sooner, maybe,” he shrugged, stepping forward to glance over the body, tucking his gun back away.

“What was your hint?”

“He’s here to give us the right folder, yeah? Well, why were his hands empty, then?”

She was just starting to nod and realize that as well when a second man shouldered through the door, holding a gun at the ready. Normandy scrambled to draw his own, but Pauling fired a shot into his knee, shoulder, and neck to send him dropping before he was even close. “There’s quick on the draw, and then there’s prepared,” she said pointedly. “Gotta think of if there’s more than one, new guy.”

He nodded, and drew his gun again, bending to hit the guy on the ground at the temple hard enough to knock him out if he wasn’t unconscious already. He then glanced up at the sound of a shout from the other side of the door, two men shouldering through, guns drawn but lowered. It was only the firm eye contact they made with both her and Normandy that made her pause the millisecond it took to realize these ones weren’t trying to kill them.

“Pauling, what on earth is going on here?!” Montgomery demanded, entering the room and staring with wide eyes at the bodies on the ground. “What could’ve possessed you to—“

“He was trying to run off with these documents,” she explained quickly, gesturing with the envelope. “He knew whatever was in here was valuable.”

“He drew his gun, sir,” Normandy added, tipping his head down towards the body, and Pauling glanced down as well and found herself a little surprised. He’d rearranged the man just slightly, apparently, adjusting the arm to be holding the gun a bit further outward. “Other one was aiming to kill.”

“My, my,” Montgomery tsk’d, shaking his head as he surveyed the scene. “What a mess. My apologies, Miss Pauling, Mr. Normandy.”

“It’s alright, but you need to start doing more thorough checks on your staff, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling stressed.

“He’s only been here two weeks, sir, he was one of the men we hired in a hurry after the incident last month,” one of the bodyguards said, and Montgomery shook his head.

“Thank goodness nobody was hurt,” he sighed. “Mutiny, and besides that, they’re bleeding on my carpet. Here are those papers, Miss Pauling—what a day, eh?”

“It’s really alright, we handled it,” Pauling assured him, giving her bravest smile, a little exasperated now.

“Right, right, you and the first baseman,” he agreed, and Normandy fought back an actual smile.

“If you’d like, we can take care of those for you,” Pauling said, gesturing at the bodies. “To pay you back for the carpet and the scare.”

“Sounds fair to me,” Montgomery agreed, clearly relieved.

-

“My dad’s gonna be pissed, by the way,” Normandy was so helpful as to say on the way back up the path to the base. “And you’re fielding that.”

“About the suit, or the fight?” she asked, glancing at his clothes where he was somewhat covered in a fine dusting of mud and grime from the gravedigging, shovel still in his free hand.

“Both. Mostly the fight. Your fault for saying it’d be an easy one to start with,” he said.

“If it was going to be that much of a problem, you wouldn’t have gotten this job. I’d just have made you go do dishes all day or something,” Pauling replied.

“Point taken,” he said, walking ahead to get the door, holding it open for her. “Wait, we’re allowed to mention what we do, right? Just not names?”

“Or locations, even with travel distance. Round up to the hour if it comes up,” she replied.

“Sure, sure,” he agreed, trailing a step behind her as she led the way through the base.

In the common area, there was a bit of a ruckus happening. Soldier, Heavy, and Demo appeared to be having some kind of arm wrestling competition on a rapidly-toppling table, the Engineer was on a stepstool trying to fix the ceiling fan, and Sniper appeared to be half-watching the beginnings of an argument between Pyro and the Spy regarding use of the oven as Medic patched up a burn on his arm.

“Hullo,” Sniper greeted the two of them, sounding a little bored, Medic giving them a brief, polite nod. Normandy’s eyebrows were raised pretty far as he surveyed the room.

“Hi, Sniper,” she greeted in return, then cleared her throat, raised her voice. “Team meeting in five minutes! New mission for next week!”

Groans from the room at large, the eight mercenaries starting to finish up what they were doing and filing out. Spy moved over, glancing over Normandy and starting to talk to him in rapid-fire French, picking smaller bits of gravel off of his suit as they walked.

“Alright,” she addressed the room, Normandy peeling off from getting mother hen’d by Spy to stand next to the blackboard with her. “Monday, you’re all going on a transport mission. Getting the truck from point A to point B with everything in the boxes intact. Already we’ve had to put up with some people trying to get ahold of these things, so bring your guns.”

“Oh, our guns, you said? Lads, this is a serious one, keep your heads on a feckin' swivel, she’s sayin’ we might even need guns, can you believe it?” Demo faux-gasped, and chuckled when Spy bopped him on the arm, rolling his eyes at the Scot's theatrics.

“Yeah, yeah,” she waved off, flipping through the papers a bit. “So Engie, I’ll need the keys to the truck, me and Normandy are going to be loading those tomorrow, all of you need to be at this drop point bright and early.”

“How early?” Heavy rumbled.

“Six. Hour and a half of drive from here.”

Some complaints from the room that she sighed at.

“Hey, hey, calm the hell down,” Normandy cut in, and she glanced over at him where he had his arms crossed and a stern look on his face. “You chuckleheads get to have all eight of you to unload the damn thing, me and Miss P gotta do all the rest of this on our own and probably kill twenty guys on the way there and back. She had to be up at 6 AM, workin’ since 7 AM, lunch break at noon and nothin’ else, and we just got back now at, what, fuckin’, 10, 11 PM? Any of you work her shift and then see if you even got the energy to complain about wakin’ up early, how about that?”

The room went utterly devoid of complaint or backsass. “Thank you, Normandy,” she said politely, and he just nodded once, glancing off to the side. “Anyways, anything new on this end? Spy, how are you adjusting?”

“Very well,” he said simply. “I have nothing pressing to say. Once I’ve been updated from the stock weaponry provided here to my requested preferred weaponry, I believe I should do just fine.”

“I see you already have Herr Normandy digging graves,” Medic chimed in. “Straight into the hard labor, ja?”

“Eh, hey, y’know, it’s why they keep us young people around,” he shrugged, grinning, and there was a brief uproar to drown out Medic’s entirely offended scoffing and Spy’s snort-laughing.

“Get ‘im, lad!” Demo cheered, and Normandy indeed looked fairly proud of himself.

“Monday, transport mission,” Pauling noted over the noise, writing it up on the chalkboard to hide her own smile from the room. “Normandy, you and me are doing the boxes tomorrow. Everyone on the same page? Good. Dismissed. Oh, and Pyro—stop taking the fire alarms down when they beep. They’re beeping because you light things on fire in the base. Do that outside.”

“Oh, hey, uh, helmet guy, All-American Beef,” Normandy called, and Soldier straightened up. “Here’s your shovel back. Gettin’ my own tomorrow.”


Soldier walked directly over to him, clasping a hand on his shoulder. “That’s a high honor, Cadet,” he said, tone grave. “Do not take this responsibility lightly.”

“I, uh, I won’t?” he said hesitantly, and blinked a few times as the shovel was carefully taken from him before it was promptly marched from the room in double-time. Only then did Normandy look over at her. “So he’s always like that?”

“You’ll get used to it,” she assured, dusting chalk from her hands. “You should get to sleep soon, we have to be up early.”

“Sure thing, Miss P.”

[queercloudy]

Can I ask more of our best boi Gino? I cant believe he's so underrated. Pls make more!! Id love some jealous + fluff prompt. ❤

Oneshot - Nobuchika Ginoza x gender neutral reader

Warnings: a bit of jealousy but nothing really, tell me if i should add something tho.

Summary: Ginoza doesn't really like the way an enforcer from the second unit is glancing at his s/o.

A/N: i knoww, he's so underrated i can't believe it, so here's a draft i was waiting to continue, you gave me just the right motivation to do it!

P.S. i had a lot of spoilers about his character during the resarch to get to know him better but i'll do oneshots and any other thing about psycho-pass based on the first season, i still have to finish the anime and that's how i know the characters the most.

Apparently, the second unit had previously worked on the current case Ginoza and his division is investigating on.

As an enforcer in charge of analizing and link together case data, you were the one delegated to talk with the other department and gather the information. And god, he's hating it so much.

Maintaining your relationship a secret wasn't a big deal most of the time, the two of you had to stay professional due to your shared job. Suddenly changing department just because you were dating wasn't an option at all from your part.

He's glad about this, he gets to see you improve everyday, to know wheter or not you're in danger and simply to share part of his day with you. But at present all he wishes for is to just be elsewhere.

He's protective side craves to punch this man so bad, you'd laugh at him if you knew.

"So that's how you got 'em," your voice sounds like heaven to him and awakens Nobuchika from his absent state. "Yeah, they were tricky ones but offenders can't run away from my unit," and again he pouts viewing your colleague gaze at you with a strange light in the eyes.

He isn't particularly skilled at reading others, he's more used to data and facts and it can make him overlook human behavior sometimes, but not when it comes to you or your safety. Nobuchika becomes pretty confident in his abilities when you're around, you give him comfort and validation, things he hasn't seen a lot during his life.

And right now he could bet this man's thoughts about you aren't the best place.

It wouldn't be much of an issue if only you weren't involved, it's not his problem since this enforcer isn't under his supervision. Anyway, that's the reason why the inspector reaches your position, being taller than the norm is convinient when you want to be intimidating.

"Well, thank you for the details about the report, now excuse me-" Nobuchika was clearly in the right about his assumptions, without letting you wave off the conversation, the enforcer picks up his phone from the pocket of his jeans and says, "Hey, let me get your number."

The inspector frowns at the audacity of the man. Again, you'd make fun of him for this.

But, before he could even open his mouth, you reply without much of a thought, "No, thank you." As the guy tries to grab you by the wrist while you turn away, Ginoza hits his arm with the side of his hand and follows you, glazing him with glare.

"Just to know, were you jealous?" You mock him, your partner is very well able to hide his feelings but you learnt to see through his poker face.

"In your dreams," he sighs, smiling softly, you scan his features for a moment and return to the pile of data your digital watch was exposing. "Keep saying that, Gino, you'll end up believing it."

A fresh laugh leaves your mouth when he rests a hand on your back, rubbing the lower part of your black coat. You tilt your head towards him and lay a gentle kiss on one of his cheeks, bringing his face near yours by holding the other.

"C'mon Gino, if you don't go back the others might eat Akane alive," a small giggle leaves your mouth.

Nobuchika can only think of how much he's increasingly in love with you everyday. You're the one who welcomed the new inspector Akane Tsunemori properly after the first messy meeting, you're the one who kept her from doing too many impulsive decisions and the one who argued with Kagari when he kept pressing her. All he had done was warn her to not become familiar with the enforcers, an advice he clearly wasn't able to follow himself.

Now, you are giving him the credit for that.

"If we don't go back." A smirk makes its way on his lips, the ones just a moment ago pressed in a thin line. The inspector couldn't be more pleased to be close to you, in every possible way.

[little-yugi-muto-rp]

After yesterday's tear-jerker, I woke up today picturing a much sweeter Rivalship thing. WARNING: It got long on me.

When Yugi mentioned going to an amusement park for a date, Seto had decided to take him to Kaiba Land. Not because of his ego, mind you, but for practical reasons. First, it was close, being the only park in Domino. Second, he knew Yugi didn't have a lot of money, so it was the only place he could get in free. Third, and most important to Seto, he had the privilege as the park's owner to kick out anyone who tried to ruin the day for Yugi.

As for Yugi, he was only too happy to go there. Last time, he'd been too busy watching duels and dodging that Chinese lady who honestly gave him the creeps to really enjoy any of the park's attractions.

This time, he hurried to get dressed in his excitement. He was being picked up and he didn't want to make Seto wait. He went simple with his outfit this time; a black sleeveless shirt that hung loosely on him thanks to many washes, his ever-present school uniform pants (he really needed to let Seto take him shopping, but he always felt self conscious about it), his studded shoes (they were the cleanest and least worn out), and one belt. He left off his choker, as it was going to be hot today. He did slip on the Puzzle, though. Not wearing it felt too weird. He also slipped on the lanyard with his KaibaCorp VIP badge Seto had given him. According to Mokuba, he and Yugi were the only two people to get one of those. It was basically an all-access pass, meaning no one would ask questions if Yugi walked in without paying. Of course, being at Seto's side would have the same effect, but the CEO wasn't giving anyone any chance to hassle Yugi. And......he secretly hoped Yugi would come see him at the office more if he didn't have to deal with security.

As an afterthought, he grabbed his uniform jacket too, in case they went in a restaurant and he got cold. He also took his rather thin wallet with his ID and a bit of spending money in it. There was more than usual today, and he guessed Grandpa had snuck him some extra cash, knowing he couldn't get Yugi to just take it.

Speaking of Grandpa, the old man had left Yugi a note on the counter saying he'd gone to run a few errands and wishing his grandson to enjoy himself today.

"I gave you some extra cash for your date. Don't be afraid to spend it all. You deserve it. Have a great day with Kaiba! Love, Grandpa."

Yugi smiled at the note, turned it over and wrote. 'I will. Thanks. Love you too, Grandpa.' and signed his name. Then he went outside and sat on a nearby bench to wait for Seto.

He didn't have to wait long. Seto was early. Well, technically, Roland was early, since he was behind the wheel of the black stretch limo that pulled up in front of Yugi.

"Good morning, Mr. Mutou." Roland said as he got out and walked around to the rear passenger door.

"Morning, Roland." He said with a small smile that grew when Roland opened the door.

Seto gave one of his very rare smiles when he saw Yugi. He couldn't help it, Yugi's smile was infectious, and besides, he really was happy to see him as Yugi climbed in and Roland shut the door behind him.

There was a seat belt on his side, but Yugi knew he had something better as he slid over to Seto's side while Roland got in and pulled back out onto the road. Sure enough, Kaiba's arm wound its way around him, hand softly rubbing his bare arm.

"You should go sleeveless more often. You look good like this." Seto remarked, his hand lightly squeezing the visible muscles of Yugi's upper arm.

"Thanks," Yugi tried to hide a blush. He didn't exactly get a lot of sun on his arms, they were almost as white as Seto's long coat. But he did indeed have muscles, and in Seto's opinion, they needed to be shown off.

Seto himself wore the same tight black outfit with a sleeveless white coat he always wore. The only thing he didn't have on was his duel disk. He knew he wasn't going to need it today. Today he had eyes only for Yugi, who shivered a little and moved closer to him.

He noticed the condition of Yugi's shirt, but if he was honest, he actually preferred it. Yes, he knew Yugi would look amazing in a tight version of this shirt, but that wouldn't look very.......Yugi-like. Besides, there was a sort of laid-back charm to it, how the neck hung down below Yugi's collarbone, how the shoulders would almost slip down his arms if he held himself a certain way, or how the whole thing looked big on him, as if it were a hand-me-down, but seemed to fit perfectly at the same time. He just looked so comfortable like this.

The ride to the park was short, and soon Roland was opening the door on Seto's side. The CEO got out first, then took Yugi's hand and helped him out.

"I'll call you." Was all Seto said when Roland shut the door. The man nodded as he got back in the limo and drove off.

They couldn't have asked for a better day. Not a cloud in the sky and a gentle summer breeze made the sun's rays pleasantly warm on Yugi's skin. Kaiba had purposefully gotten them here early, before the park opened, so they could miss the long lines to get in. The place was hugely successful, just as he'd promised his little brother it would be. And because this was the flagship location, it was also the biggest, and most high-end. Which was perfect. He would have only the best for him and Yugi.

They had only to flash their badges and they were waved in. There were some park VIPs already here, and people with season passes, but for now, there were no huge crowds, though the place was far from silent.

They went on every ride (including all three trains of the Blue Eyes Ultimate Coaster) at least once, and they got the front seats on everything. Kaiba took a souvenir photo from each ride, even though they all showed the same thing: Kaiba's arm, or sometimes arms, around a Yugi who was either clinging to him or waving his hands in the air and screaming/laughing the whole time as the wind whipped his hair around. To Seto, they were all absolutely adorable, and he even caught himself smiling in a few.

By now, the park was open and full of bustling crowds..At one point, they stopped to play one of the many games there, and, no surprise to Seto, Yugi won. He got so excited he couldn't stand still as he picked his prize. He knew exactly what prize he wanted: the biggest Blue Eyes White Dragon plush they had, which he instantly held out to Kaiba.

"I picked this game so I could win this for you!" he said excitedly. Kaiba was about to say some form of 'do I look like a child?'. But he stopped himself when Yugi's face fell. Kaiba's expression must've said what he'd stopped his words from saying

"I-I'm sorry, Seto. I just got excited.....You don't like it, do you." Yugi sadly turned and started to take it back to the booth.

Shit.

Kaiba hadn't meant to upset Yugi. That was the last thing he wanted. He quickly grabbed Yugi's shoulder, turning him around. He carefully took the big dragon from Yugi's hand and gave him a one-armed hug.

"I love it, Yugi. Thank you for getting it for me." Yugi's smile returned and Kaiba mentally heaved a sigh of relief. Of course, he thought he looked ridiculous carrying the thing around. But Yugi had been so excited to win it for him, had chosen the game for that reason alone, and was so happy to hear that Seto liked it. Kaiba couldn't bring himself to ruin that. He may have looked comically stupid carrying it around, but he could deal with that. He didn't think he'd be able to deal with how awful he'd feel if he said that and upset Yugi. No, looking stupid was definitely worth bringing the smile he loved back to Yugi's face.

To make up for it, he chose another game and won a big Kuriboh plush for Yugi, who only set it down long enough to hug Seto and thank him. Then they walked on, each holding their prize in one arm, their free arms holding hands or side hugging each other as they went.

For lunch, Kaiba took them to the park's newest burger restaurant, as he knew burgers were Yugi's favorite food. And with it being a KaibaCorp owned establishment, only the best quality food was served. Yugi remarked that it was the best double bacon BBQ cheeseburger he'd ever had.

They attended shows and took photos with the costumed characters that roamed the park, too. When the afternoon sun got hot, they cooled off on the water rides, Kaiba again keeping those souvenir photos from each one. An added bonus for Kaiba: Yugi's wet shirt clung tightly to him, revealing that he had some abs, too. Not that he was one to objectify a person, but he'd be lying if he said he'd never wanted to see Yugi without a shirt. The boy was attractive, it was just a fact, and there was no harm in appreciating that fact.

Yugi wasn't oblivious to this. He himself was guilty of eyeing Kaiba through the shirt that was now even tighter on him.

Maybe he should get himself a tight shirt.

They carried on much as they had all day, even after the sun set. As they rode higher over the lights of Kaiba Land, Seto remembered why people enjoyed Ferris wheels. The one they were on was huge, so the two of them spent plenty of time up high while other riders boarded. A cooler night breeze blew in off the harbor, and Yugi shivered, realizing too late that he'd forgotten his jacket in the limo that morning. He needn't have worried though. Kaiba stood up and shed the big white coat, wrapping it snugly around Yugi.

"Thanks Seto." He said gratefully.

"For what? You have to pay for that." Kaiba said.

"What? O-okay, how much?"

"One." the CEO replied.

"One what?" The Ferris wheel moved again, and now they were parked at the very top.

"One of these." Seto leaned in, a hand sliding up the back of Yugi's neck and into his soft black hair, and kissed him on the lips. It wasn't an aggressive, needy makeout kind of kiss. It was softer, more loving and tender, but carried just as much feeling behind it. He felt Yugi smile against him before reciprocating as best he could, his eyes closing with a soft sigh. Seto's other arm came up and pulled Yugi into his lap. He wasn't trying to do anything out of line, he just wanted to hold the one he loved close.

Kaiba wanted those certain things, of course. But Yugi wasn't ready yet. The idea still made him uncomfortable to think about, even though he loved Seto and knew Seto wouldn't do anything he couldn't take or that would hurt him in any way. But he just wasn't there yet. And Kaiba loved him enough to wait. Besides, it was nice to just be close to him.

For his part, Yugi was more than comfortable with this. The warmth of Seto beside him, the strong arms that held him so tight he knew nothing could harm him, the steady beating of his heart when they finally broke their kiss and Yugi laid his head against it, his own small arms encircling his love's neck. Now he felt Seto's fingers slowly running through his hair. To most, Kaiba was a block of ice, hard and unrelenting, some might say heartless. And to an extent, he was cold and hard. But when it came to Yugi, he was always so soft, so gentle. It was a side of him only his brother had seen before. This was how Seto was around those who meant the most to him. Those he treasured more than anything in the world. The only ones to ever hear him say three little words.

"I love you." Kaiba said into the mass of black hair against his chest. It moved to reveal Yugi's face locking up at him.

"I love you, too." Yugi said back. That was all either of them needed to say. Each knew just how deep the other's love for him was, and words couldn't do justice to it.

They spent the rest of the ride wrapped in each other's arms, until they had to get off. The crowds were clearing out as the park closed for the night, so Kaiba called Roland to come and get them.

Yugi leaned against Kaiba all the way back to his house. Had the ride been any longer, he would've been asleep for sure. As it was, his eyes were half closed when they arrived and Seto gently shook him to let him know. He walked Yugi to the door, where they traded coats and a kiss goodnight. Then Yugi went inside, still hugging that Kuriboh.

Seto may have thought he looked dumb walking around the park. But the minute he got home, that big Blue Eyes went straight to his room, and Mokuba, being a typical little brother, snapped a photo of Seto fast asleep with it hugged up close to him.

//wow, this got a lot longer than I thought it would. If you've read this far, thank you so much and I hope you liked it.//

[mostribelle]

Bulletproof

You're Dean Winchesters teenage daughter who is trying to have a fun night out with some friends, but it never seems to go how its supposed to go...

Gif not mine, credit to owner.

Warnings: mention of alcohol

Words: 2604

The brunette swayed to the loud beat of the club as people passed by her. Tonight was her one night off from hunting and she was ecstatic. Her dad and uncle were back at the bunker, just having a relaxing night in with Castiel and her grandpa. Being seventeen and having a dad who does illegal things such as fake IDs was great. She could get into any club she wanted since she had the classic Winchester look. Now, of course, she hadn't told them she was headed here, or else her dad would for sure ground her for life. So she lied and said she was going over to Kallies house- which wasn't entirely a lie since she was there and they did get ready together. She never told them that's where she was staying. So as she ran her hand through her long hair, she felt a hand grip her waist and she turned to look over her shoulder and snickered when it was her friend's older brother.

Kallies older brother, Damon, was twenty-one and their DD for the night. He made sure not to let the girls out of his sight, or else his mom would kill him. Bailey turned around as she swung her hips side to side, "Thought you were supposed to be watching your little sister," she wouldn't lie. He was insanely attractive- but never did anything despite her friend saying it would cool to have her bestie and her brother together. Then again, Kallie was into cliches and all she read were books on Wattpad.

Damon grinned like a Cheshire cat as he lowered his hands so they rested on her hips. "-Well, if you paid any attention in the last fifteen minutes, you would have noticed that she is sitting down with one of her besties in the corner." He smirked at her crestfallen expression. The brunette paused her dancing to glance for her friend and when she spotted the girl snoring in the corner with one of Damons friends, she smacked the man's chest.

"You ass! I-I thought she actually found someone else here.." She tried to frown, but when he gripped her chin so she was forced to look up at him, she smiled shyly.

Damon's black hair shone purple as the lights changed and an older song came through the loudspeakers. He chuckled with a shake of his head. "Sorry baby, just thought to shake you up a little." He grinned when Everybody by the Backstreet Boys came on. The girl's eyes widened as the song came on and she immediately dragged the man out to the center of the dance floor. She started grinding her hips all over and tensed a little when he stepped closer so she ground on him. When he bent down to her ear, he whispered, "S'okay Bails... Just go with the flow of the music and if you feel uncomfortable, tell me alright?" He backed up a little when she nodded in understanding.

The music grew quieter she swore as he grabbed her softly. She would usually never be like this, but she blamed the alcohol that she had consumed. She was so into the music that she hadn't noticed her phone ringing in the dress pocket. Damon felt something buzz and when he looked down, he saw a light emitting from the small slit and he reached down to grab it. Panic rose in her chest and she tried to pull away but he gripped her tightly to his chest as people danced around them.

"Damon! W-what are you doing?" She turned around just in time to see him raise the phone to his ear and answer. He heard Dean on the other hand and inwardly cursed. The man held his finger up to silence her and that's when she noticed it was her phone and it was probably her dad. "Fuck!" She cried out and pulled him away through the crowd and into a dark hallway. With an extra push, she opened the exit door and they stood outside.

She watched Damon's facial expressions twitch every so often as if Dean was going off.

Damon nodded, "Sir she's fine. We are in the basement with a few other of my friends and hers-"

Silence until the man nodded again.

"Yes, do you want to talk to her?" He shot her a curious look to which she waved her hands as no. Her dad would know for sure she was drunk. She could never lie to her daddy. Before Damon could say she was busy, Dean immediately said yes. He shot her a knowing look. "Uh okay, she's right here-"

The phone was passed to her and she inwardly cried. This would not end well.

In a sickly sweet voice, "Hiya, daddy!" She winced at her loud voice. He either ignored it or already knew she was wasted.

"Hey baby girl, you busy at the moment? Damon seemed out of breath." Eyes wide, she slapped the man's arm and he cried out 'what did I do?'

"Ah, no way! You crazy old man-" she hiccuped and bit her lip quick after. "I'm totally fine. He just came down the stairs and you know him, outta shape." She joked lightly.

Dean sighed into the phone. He rubbed his eyes before glancing at his dad and brother. The three men in the room all shared a knowing glance. "Baby girl?" He received a small 'yeah' before responding, "Where are you really. I know you're drunk so tell me where you are." He heard her swear loudly which made him chuckle. He was pissed. But he knew she just wanted to have a little fun and he wouldn't be so harsh on her.

She mumbled her coordinates and heard Dean curse.

"You're at Lights?!" The girl winced at his loud tone but meekly answered him. She heard a voice in the background before he spoke again. "Look, just stay with Damon and Kallie... I'm on my way." He hung up and she felt terrible.

She not only lied to her dad but also went to the club where she had gone missing one time during a vampire case. Damon wrapped his arms around the crying girl, she just sobbed. Her makeup was smeared, her heels were off and she wore his jacket as they stood in the front of the club. It had been fifteen minutes since she heard from her father and now she was scared. Damon told her that Kallie was just with a few friends of hers and their boyfriends so she relaxed.

"I'm sure it'll be okay. He's just worried and it didn't help that you lied," he tried to joke but she was so deep in her thoughts she hadn't noticed. 

The girl heard a familiar rumble of Baby and she tensed up. Damon rubbed her arm soothingly as if it would help but she was so terrified of what her father would say. These were the times she wished her mother was still here. To calm down her dad when she did stupid teenage rebellion things. When the car came into view, she gently pushed away from Damon and walked to the edge of the curb. The door slammed shut and out walked her dad, she peeked into the car and saw her uncle in the passenger side with pursed lips. Bailey's bottom lip quivered when he neared her. She went to open her mouth to say how sorry she was but turned around to vomit. Damon backed up and frowned as she cried.

Dean rushed over and wrapped his arms around her but not before wrapping his flannel around her shivering body. The sobs wracked her frail body as she turned into her father's chest. Dean's harsh glare found the eldest Fritellie's eyes and mouthed to leave them. With one last glance, Damon walked back into the building and the door shut behind him. Dean's temper eased as he was left alone with Bailey. The young girl mumbled apologies to her father but he just shushed her and ran his hands through her hair.

Dean could see how the nightmares affected how she behaved. She had been withdrawn from her whole family since she was kidnapped. That was three months ago. Sam and John had just brushed it off as her being a rebellious teenager. Dads know best.

Slowly but surely, she grew tired and rested her cheek to his heart. Dean bent down a little at the knees to pick her up bridal style and carry her to Baby. Sam saw the pair come closer and he got out to open the door. Dean kissed her forehead before letting her down and onto the seat. She turned into the flannel and yawned before letting herself fall back asleep.

Shutting the door quietly, Dean turned to rub his face when Sam opened his mouth. "I think she should see someone, Dean. This- This was okay for the first week but now it's going on three months. Three, Dean." At his brother's words, the elder Winchester scoffed and kicked the dirt.

"Ya don't think I know that Sammy?! Of course, I do. I was there when she was found goddamnit," he sighed and placed his hands on his hips and pondered over the next move. "I'll talk to her in the morning about it. I ain't forcing her though. Maybe Cas can help her." He said the last part more for himself than Sams.

The pair stayed silent all the way back to the bunker.

Dean drove into the garage and parked Baby before getting out and picking up his baby girl. She groaned a little but nuzzled into him again. John was in the den with a cigarette and a bottle of beer when the door opened and he heard heavy footsteps. Dean walked by with Bailey in his arms and Sam turned into the room. The younger Winchester sibling sat down with a sigh and shook his head at his dad.

"She's not well. Dean says he sees it, but he hasn't done much to help her. Maybe I should just-"

John cut him off with a glare. "You will not be doing anything, boy. Bailey is your niece and his daughter. You know how your brother is. He will do something on his own terms. That's how he's always been." He grumbled into the beer. Sam huffed out in annoyance for his dad taking his side.

Inside Bailey's room, were polaroids of her and her friends hanging on the walls. A family picture hung above the teen's bed along with some tickets to concerts she had been to with her dad. Dean had taken off her shoes and threw them onto the ground as he tucked her under the covers. He grabbed her hand and sat on the edge of her bed, watching over her. He wished his mother was here to help him out. He knew his little girl felt lost without a mother figure in her life, but he also felt that if he did find someone, she'd think he was replacing her.

Dean loomed over her before placing a chaste kiss on her head and walking to the door. He closed the door softly, before walking to his own room. He would have gone back to the den and sat with his dad and brother but he was angry at Sam for telling him what he already knew.

Dean took off his clothes, climbed under the blankets, and closed his eyes.

His mind wandered to if he'd been a terrible dad lately, causing her to rebel and sneak off without his permission. Or lie straight to his face at your whereabouts. He never really believed in God until he met him, nor did he really ever pray. But he now silently asked the heavens what to do to help his little girl out.

Sleep caught Dean in its warm embrace and his dreams were plagued with what to do with Bailey.

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

Sam stood by the counter with his earbuds in as he mixed his early morning post-run drink. John sat at the kitchen table across from Dean, both had coffee mugs in front of them- one laced with whiskey. The eldest Winchester kept his gaze on the newspaper, looking out for any new hunts or leads for one. The trio heard light footsteps come down from the hallway and towards them. Bailey entered the silent room and walked over to the coffee pot. Reaching up she grabbed her favorite mug- it was a family picture along with Cas.  She poured some creamer into the mug before the coffee.

John was the first to speak. "Have fun last night, baby doll? Sure seemed like it when we called you." Dean shot his dad a quick glare but just shook his head.

Bailey looked down into the mug with shame in her soft eyes. "I'm sorry pops. I-I have no idea what went through my head when I disobeyed you guys," she mumbled out and stirred her coffee before speaking quieter, "I'm up for any form of punishment."

At her words, Sam set down his smoothie and ripped out his earbuds. "Sweetheart, you do not deserve to be punished for being a teen." John shot his youngest son a confused glance, for last night he was up to damage. Sam must've noticed because he spoke again, "I felt different last night but I then realized that you're a teen. Hell, when your dad was your age he was ten times worse!" They all share a small laugh except Dean who rolls his eyes. Sam continues with a softer tone, "I- We all know how hard it's been since the incident... You're only seventeen, baby girl. We are worried about you." When he finished, Dean released a sigh and scooted his chair back so Bailey could sit with him. The girl plopped herself down onto her father's lap and sipped her coffee before setting it down.

Dean wrapped one arm around her waist and began to speak, "Even though we were very upset last night, not for the reason you were there, but the fact that you lied straight to my face. I know how it is baby, you're young. You've never done that before, not that I know of," he muttered the last part soliciting a laugh from Bailey.

"Let me cut this shit short- we are all worried as hell about you baby doll. You're our everything. Our main goal in this short life is to make sure you live it to the fullest. You can't do that if you're dead at the bottom of a ditch." John was straight to the point, and it scared Bailey. She had never seen her pops this serious. The brunette reached her hand out to wrap it around his own.

John squeezed it with a tightlipped smile.

"You should see someone baby girl. I know it will suck at first, but if you won't talk to us or your friends about it, it will never go away. Trust me. It haunts you forever. Please baby, for me?" Dean spoke sadly and watched as his little girl nodded before a tear slipped down her cheek.

The girl continuously nodded, which made her dad wrap his hands around her tighter. He kept mumbling "I love you" into her ear, resulting in her sobbing into her father's shirt.

[pilothusband]

A lit torch to the woodpile high

A Paz VIzsla Bartender!AU

Rating: T (for now)

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x F!Reader

Warnings: Alcohol mention (they work in a bar), pining

Word count: 2k

Description: Paz is your boss at the Bear’s Den, a local pub. He’s surly and unfriendly and wants nothing to do with you, but there’s something about him you can’t stay away from.

Author’s note: Title is from a Frightened Rabbit song. Chapters will get smutty later on, I promise.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

A low thrumming resounded in your ribcage as you pulled your old beater into the dusty parking lot. The pub’s exterior was unassuming– its sign was worn and outdated, reading “Bear’s Den.” Today was your first day at your new bartending job, and you didn’t want to fuck it up. Glancing at your phone screen, you noticed you were about 20 minutes early for your shift.

You weren’t sure if you should sit in your car to kill time before walking in or if it would make a good impression to show up early. The original plan had been to show up early, as you always did, not now you weren’t so sure of that decision.

The original plan won out in the end. You locked your car behind you and dusted off your jeans. The building was dilapidated, for the lack of a better word. The stucco exterior was cracked in some spots, reaching up from the door to the roof. The front door was massive and looked older than the building itself. You pulled on the big iron handle, struggling with the weight of the structure.

The bar was sparsely populated. You found yourself hesitating, hovering at the entrance, not sure if you should walk up to the bar or try to find your new boss, Orso.

“Can I see an ID?” A gruff voice sounded in your ear and you nearly jumped out of your skin, spinning around to find you were face-to-face an older gentleman, probably around his mid-50s. He was a thick, severe looking man, with a grey handlebar mustache, shiny bald head, and a black t-shirt that stretched over his large biceps.

“Oh, sure,” you said, scrambling to find your wallet. You handed the plastic card over, looking up at his hulking form as he surveyed it. “I’m the new bartender,” you added lamely.

The man guffawed in response. Guffawed.

“Why didn’t you say so?” He asked. His shoulders were shaking with mirth. You found his entire demeanor changed when he smiled and couldn’t help but smile in return.

“Go on back to the office. Paz should be back there and he can show you how to punch in.”

“Thank you!” You replied brightly. “It’s nice to meet you…” you trailed off, waiting for him to introduce himself.

“Rick,” he said, flashing another smile your way. He held out his hand in greeting and you shook it, giving him your name in return.

You made your way towards the back of the room. There was a door to the left of the bar that Rick pointed out to you. It led to a dimly lit hallway, leading to kitchen doors ahead. The doors on the right were labeled as the bathrooms, while the door on the left had an embossed “Office” label on the front. You knocked on the door, hoping you weren’t interrupting your new boss.

After a moment you heard a muffled “come in.”

The latch on the door creaked as you pushed it open gingerly. There was a man sitting behind a desk that looked absurdly small for his large frame. His hair was ruffled, as if he had been running his hands through it in frustration. His elbow was resting on the desk, chin in hand, as he was writing something down on a piece of paper.

“Um, hi, I’m the new bartender and Rick said I should come talk to you?”

The man looked down at his watch, brow furrowed.

“You’re early.”

You swallowed your nerves before responding.

“Yeah, I um, wanted to get here early in case it took a while to get clocked in.”

The man grunted in response.

“The name’s Paz. I’m the lead bartender and manager here. Orso may own the bar, but I run its day-to-day operations.” He sounded as if he was reading off a script. “Show up for your shifts on time and do as I say and we won’t have a problem. Got it?”

You nodded mutely. 

“Follow me,” he said, getting up leading you towards the kitchen. His legs were impossibly long. When he stood up he dwarfed you by at least a foot.

“This is where you punch in. Pretty self-explanatory.” He pointed to a panel just inside of the kitchen. He handed you your punch card and you took it, swiping in for the day.

You tried to ignore the butterflies that erupted in your stomach when your finger brushed against his.

There was an older woman in the kitchen with you, fiddling with the deep fryer. She had grey hair, pulled back with a net, and wore a thick black apron with a Bear’s Den logo on the pocket.

“This is Madge, she runs the kitchen. Don’t cross her,” he said. If it were any other person in the world saying those words, you would have thought he was joking. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Madge croaked. “I’ll be back here if you need anything at all, sweetie.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said. You introduced yourself, wanting to make a good impression on the woman.

“She’s the new bartender,” Paz mumbled, waving off your introduction to move the tour along. What the hell was this guy’s problem?

The back door swung open suddenly, startling everyone in the room. A young man around your age walked through, coughing.

“Oh, hey boss,” he sputtered, looking over at Paz.

Paz rubbed his temples with impatience.

“Donny, how many times do I have to tell you not to smoke at work?”

“Just a few more times, boss. It’ll stick soon,” he gave Paz a shit-eating grin. “Who’s this now?”

You introduced yourself to Donny, observing the red rims around his eyes. He gave you a lazy smile.

“Come on back whenever you want to steal a mozzarella stick or two,” he said. You could hear Paz huff behind you, earning a laugh from the younger man. It seemed like this guy had no qualms getting on his boss’ nerves.

“Come on, I have more to show you.” Paz said, herding you towards the door.

“These lazy fuckers out here are our servers, Dillon and Harlow.” They were both sitting at a table in the corner, playing some sort of card game.

“We don’t have any customers yet, Paz,” the girl, Harlow rolled her eyes. “Besides, why do you have everyone on staff tonight? It’s Tuesday.”

Harlow was gorgeous, with long brown hair and sparkling eyes. Dillon, the boy next to her, had neatly trimmed blond hair with blue eyes. He reminded you of a frat boy. They both wore what was the assumed uniform: jeans and a black t-shirt.

“Because Orso wanted everyone here to get the new bartender trained up.”

They both turned their attention towards you. Harlow gave you a wide smile, while Dillon looked you up and down with a smirk.

“It’s so nice to meet you, and not just because I don’t have to run around serving and making drinks on busy nights,” Harlow said, getting up and shaking your hand.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you chuckled in response. 

“Harlow will be training you whenever I’m not around,” Paz supplied.

“I can train her!” Dillon interjected, looking hopeful.

“You’re not a bartender.” Paz said flatly. Dillon didn’t argue, slouching down in his seat. It seemed like Paz’s word was God’s around here. 

Paz moved on to show you the layout of the bar, pointing out that the better quality liquor was on the top, while the lower quality and well liquor was below. He pointed out the beers on draught, as well as the little fridge behind the bar that carried the bottled beer and wine wine. The red wine was up on a shelf above the liquor, which was going to be potentially problematic, since it was located far above your head.

“I’ll grab those for you if someone orders red wine,” he said, almost reading your mind as you craned your neck to look at the shelf.

You looked over at him and gave him a grateful smile. He looked away almost immediately as your eyes met, clearing his throat.

“Any questions?”

You shook your head, feeling a little defeated.

“Seems straightforward,” you said. “Thanks for showing me around. I’m sure you have other things you need to be doing.”

He grunted in response, not disagreeing. 

It seemed like everything you said managed to annoy him in some way or another. It was throwing you through a loop. Not that it was something you were necessarily worried about. You didn’t need everyone to like you. Not even a ridiculously good-looking man who was built like a tree.

All during the tour, you tried to block out any lustful thoughts you had about your mysterious new boss. You tried to ignore how dwarfed you felt when Paz stood next to you and how large his calloused hands were. You had to hold your breath when he gesticulated with them, because a whiff of his subtle cologne would make its way over and make you sigh like a lovesick schoolgirl.

Nope, you definitely did not get lost thinking about how this man could toss you around like a rag doll, or how deep and rich the timbre of his voice sounded.

A moment later, the first customer walked in. He was a portly middle aged-man, wearing denim overalls and a ratty flannel, and judging by the silent nod Rick gave him, he was a regular.

“You’re up, newbie.”

Paz stepped back, crossing his massive arms to observe your first customer interaction. You turned around and tried to ignore the way the veins in his arms flexed with the movement.

“Hi there!” You tried not to cringe at how overly-chipper your voice sounded and ignored the muffled laugh behind you. “What can I get you?”

The customer didn’t answer your question, instead he nodded behind your shoulder, towards Paz.

“This the new girl?” He asked, a grin on his face.

“The one and only,” Paz said. “Be nice Bob, you’re her first customer.”

“I’m always nice,” the man sputtered. “Especially to pretty little things like her.”

You could almost feel Paz bristle behind you. You immediately wanted to slap this guy, but you swallowed your anger and smiled at him. Do it for the tips.

“What can I get you?”

“Your number, for starters,” he grinned at you lecherously.

“Bob,” Paz gave him a warning.

You couldn’t see what Paz was doing while he said it, but judging by the flash of fear in Bob’s face, it wasn’t friendly.

“Just kidding sweetheart. I’ll take a Miller Light.”

You poured him a pint and handed it over with a coaster. The man’s tip was suspiciously high, but you didn’t question it.

The rest of your shift was slow. Customers trickled in and ordered generally simple drinks. Not that you were surprised; this wasn’t exactly the kind of establishment where you ordered fancy cocktails.

Paz had watched you like a hawk for the first hour of your shift. But after a while he must have decided you knew what you were doing, so he went off to check on the other employees and did more work in the office. He would come out every once in a while to check on the bar, probably to make sure you weren’t screwing up.

Before you knew it, the clock struck 2 A.M. and it was time to close up for the night. Every other employee, besides you and Paz, had left for the night. You felt dead on your feet and couldn’t wait to crawl into your bed.

“Alright, let’s go. I’ll walk you to your car.” Paz strolled out from the kitchen, keys jingling in his hand. You swallowed heavily.

“Okay.”

God, she’s terrified of me.

Paz admittedly knew the effect he had on you. He intimidated everyone, and that’s how he wanted it. But for some reason, he felt a twinge in the pit of his stomach every time you were too scared to meet his eyes.

The moment you walked into the office and introduced yourself to him, all shy and timid, Paz knew he was screwed. 

You were so small compared to him, but the curves on your body were impossible to miss. And your eyes – they were so wide and expressive, taking in every word he said. Not to mention your mouth. Fuck, your mouth was almost sinful. He struggled not to stare at your lips every time you spoke.

He found himself fantasizing about reaching out to put his hand on your waist a few times during the tour. Every time it happened he felt a white hot pang of shame. You were his employee. Not to mention he had read your file and noticed you were a whopping 8 years younger than him.

You didn’t need someone like him swooping in and ruining your life.

No, he would walk you to your car and watch you drive away and continue pushing you away, as he did with every other person he knew.

He didn’t get into his car until you were pulling out of the parking lot. He watched your car putter down the street, disappearing into the lonely night.

Taglist: @tenderclio @softdin @maybege​