#sorry i genuinely like my job and my coworkers i just have a few that are Odd

[ryuseitai]

just rmbred today this old man regular customer said smtg like im 'moving up on [his] list' ok well. you are genuinely one o fmy least favorite customers. I DONT WANNA BE ON YOUR LIST

[discountwives]

so glad my coworker and i find our other coworker a lil creepy im still weirded out by how touchy he is w/ all the girls (+ me bc closeted) but hes like EXTRA friendly to me and ik its not just in my head bc she pointed out how friendly he is w/ me like brother dont try it im bigger and faster than you leave me alone pls be normal

[luveline]

could I maybe request some more coworker james, maybe reader telling james about something she’s upset about? love you and your writing, hope you’re okay my love!! :)

thank you for requesting <3 fem, 1k

Today, James has moved your mug to the fridge. He laughs as he does it, while Sirius tuts and drinks a quick cup of tea by the sink. “You’re gonna bully her out of the job,” Sirius says. 

“This isn’t bullying. This is hazing. Light hazing. If she asks me where it is I’ll tell her, but she’ll find it.” He puts it on top of his lunch, practically begging for retaliation. 

You arrive in a fluster that morning, a few minutes late but no less pretty than usual. It’s irksome but nothing he feels the need to comment on, smiling to himself as you sit. Your desk knocks against his and sends his little Smiski figurine tumbling. 

“Sorry,” you say, reaching over to pick him up. You’re gentle putting him back on James' outgoings, your perfume floating his way. “Poor Smiski.” 

“I’m sure he’ll recover. What’s with the late start, princess?” 

You wrinkle your nose. “Don’t be a chauvinist.” 

“That’s ridiculous.” He can’t help grinning at you. James doesn’t believe that you genuinely think he’s a chauvinist, and so he doesn’t mind continuing to poke at you. “I hardly think calling you princess demonstrates any belief that I’m better than you. I am better than you.” He bites. “What’s with the hair?” 

You’ve had your hair done. It looks gorgeous and like it took half a day, but he doesn’t mention that. 

“I have to go with Sirius today to talk to Enlighten limited.” 

“Why would you have to do that?” 

“Sirius says I’m the administrator’s type.” 

“And he’s using you as bait?” James asks incredulously. 

You turn the Smiski so he’s facing James’ monitor. “He said I shall be greatly rewarded.” You’ve had your nails done, their beds shiny with lacquer, your cuticles finely manicured. 

You put your bag under your desk. Your hands shift in your lap. 

James watches in bridled horror when you leave. To the outward observer he doesn’t care because he shouldn’t, but he can’t believe it when you go —you’re a beautiful girl and he’s awful inside, he hates that you’re pretty, he hates that you’ve had your hair done to go see somebody, he sort of hates that Sirius is using you like a poster girl to facilitate business. You’re a water safety company. What is wrong with him? What’s wrong with James?

“She looked nice, didn’t she?” Remus asks. 

James ignores him diligently. He tries to ignore the entire world for a few hours, completing three times as much work as he usually would and dedicatedly avoiding the thought of your hands while he does it. 

You didn’t even notice that he moved your mug. How embarrassing is that? James thinks he might dig a hole and throw himself in it before you get back. 

Later, you return. You’re both with weak smiles as you sit down and Sirius stands behind Remus. 

“Did it go okay?” Remus asks, tipping his head back. 

Sirius frowns but gives his boyfriend a nice kiss on the cheek anyways. “I don’t think they’re gonna choose us this time. It’s fine. Now come with me so I can make you some tea, handsome.” 

You tuck your chair in as they go. 

“Didn’t go well?” James asks you. 

You shake your head. For a moment you stare at your keyboard, and then you turn to him with a wobbly smile. “I think I really messed it up for him, James.” 

“How would you do that?” 

“I tried to be conversational, you know. Sirius is so chatty. But I kept saying the wrong things. I asked him about his daughter. He had all these photos on the wall, but she died last June. Just decimated the mood.” Your brow wrinkles. You cover your frown with two fingers. “Sirius wasn’t mad.” 

“He wouldn’t be mad at you for a shit business meeting, he’s not like that. I don’t think anyone can blame you for that.” 

You pause again. “You’re sure?” 

You’d been expecting a joke, it seems. James had meant to make fun of you, but your honesty threw him off. He struggles to say anything else, the two of you looking at one another in mutual surprise, until insecurity flashes in your eyes and you peel back. 

James turns his head to his spreadsheet, though his eyes remain on you. 

“I know he’s not mad at me, but he should be. He took me with him to help and I…” You rub your lips together, what little that’s left of your lipgloss spreading thin. “I really thought I could do it.” 

“You can. If poaching clients were hard, Sirius wouldn’t have a job.” He feels bad for diminishing Sirius’ efforts, joke or not, and he softens his tone. “What makes you think you can’t do it? Because you made a mistake? You couldn’t have known it was a sore subject.” 

“I feel silly. I felt so stupid sitting in his office, I looked like an idiot.” 

“No, you didn’t.” James bites the inside of his lip to stop from saying anything ridiculous, but his eyes stray. He looks at your eyes, your soft cheek, the curve of your neck and your hair and your lips, rubbed and bitten enough that your lipgloss is almost completely gone. You didn’t look stupid. You never…

James is in deep shit, it seems. You’re so pretty. 

For a moment, he can’t remember why he doesn’t like you. 

You falter under his gaze. “I guess I’m being childish, worrying,” you say tightly. 

“You’re not being childish.” James clears his throat, sits a bit straighter. “It’s okay to worry about stuff when it’s gone wrong, but I can go and ask Sirius right now if he thinks any of that was your fault and I know he’d say no. You tried your best,” —his hand slides across the desk, nowhere near touching you but an unconscious response— “okay?” 

“I tried my best,” you say softly. 

“And you looked scrumptious.” You snort. “But it’s back to business now, cool? You can’t mooch an entire day doing nothing, I need you to check off some of these spreadsheets for me, I’m missing a ton of laboratory numbers.” 

You rush to do as he’s said, and that’s that, the charged air between you simmers and dies. 

“James,” you say, with dawning horror, “how many of these did you do?” 

“I’m oh so productive when you’re not here to irritate me, apparently.” 

[mv1simp]

I’m so in love with your writing style and I think for a suggestion max and the reader being toxic asf exes but can’t get over eachother yk and try make eachother jealous but just end up in eachothers bed always 😭 sorry i suck at explaining but id die if i seen u write something like that 🥰

PLS I ALWAYS LOVE THIS CONCEPT nothing more juicy than some toxic tension with exes 🤭

Wicked Games ♥️

Max Verstappen x Toxic Ex!Reader

but baby let’s face it, I’m not into dating, all these hearts I’ve been breaking (come through, I'm not living like i did before)

no matter how hard you try, you just can’t stay away from your toxic situationship with playboy millionaire Max Verstappen after he breaks it off to be “just friends”. At least you can expect him to have more discipline than you, given his skillset as a 3 time F1 champion, right? Too bad he can’t seem to stay away from you either…

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, jealousy, toxic playboy! Max, smut, cheating, hate sex, just the usual classicsTM

You’d heard about Max Verstappen well before you first met him. Having recently moved to Monaco to start your new job working for a software company, you had quickly become familiar with the world of F1 - including its’ current top driver who was known for his aggressive style on the track and his lavish, playboy lifestyle off it. You hadn’t paid much heed to it until you were at a friend of a friend’s house party one night, after being peerpressured by the threat your coworker Bianca delivered that you were apparently “doomed to die alone as an old dog lady who sat in front of her 4 wide screen computers all day.” Bit dramatic, but it did the trick and soon you were walking through the doors of a raging party that night.

You had been warned that Monaco was a small place, filled with many of the rich and elite, and you were bound to run into some politician, actress or influencer sooner or later. You just hadn’t expected the first celebrity you met to be Max Verstappen, three time world champion, freshly out of a highly publicised breakup with a Russian supermodel! Bianca snarked next to you, yet he was laughing loudly in the middle of the living room, surrounded by his friends without a care in the world.

You shrugged, honestly quite disinterested in the celebrity thing, and had forgotten completely about the F1 driver until a few hours later when you found yourself alone on the outdoor balcony wanting some fresh air, tipsy from a bottle of white wine. Hearing the balcony door open and close again behind you, you started talking, assumed your friend had followed you out - I am never letting you convince me to drink that wine again Bianca, oh my god -

Only to turn around and come face to face with the infamous Max Verstappen himself. You hadn’t realised you had squeaked his full name out loud until he smiled bemusedly, saying just Max is fine, sweetheart. You blushed profusely, apologising and didn’t notice the way he looked you up and down in your cute, conservative outfit of light jeans and a fitted pastel cardigan. Instead of going back inside like you had expected, he struck up a conversation about how that white wine was truly deadly, which then led to a debate about the potency of red vs white vs rose, and before you knew it you two had been talking for hours about anything and everything, including your pets (you were very strongly pro-dogs while he preferred cats, which was just diabolical since they ignored humans half the time. He laughed and said that was the whole point). When he found out you worked in software - specifically, for one that specialised in developing e-sim racing tracks, his blue eyes lit up in genuine excitement as he animatedly began discussing specifics with you, an attractive pink flush on his cheeks from his drinking. He was insanely good looking, with his tall broad build and soft smile, and you were pleasantly surprised he was so down to earth. When it was time to go he had easily asked for your number, Bianca gawking at the scene as you typed your details into his phone, your caramel skin all flushed from the attention of a handsome man like Max. She dragged you off after, hissing at you to be careful, he’s way too much of a player for you, don’t expect much from him, okay? After a couple days went by and you had indeed, not heard anything from Max, you accepted that was that and promptly forgot about it.

But then, 3 weeks later in the middle of your Thursday afternoon Pilates session, your phone dinged with a text. Monza track is down in the system wtf. You guys gonna sort this out? You had panicked initially thinking the unknown number was your boss before your phone dinged again. This is Max btw. Wanna come over and fix the glitch here? Just this once plz 🙏

“Here” turned out to be Max’s insane penthouse apartment overlooking the Monaco marina, and just this once became a monthly occurrence whenever Max was home between races and on his rig with you beside him, sharing your technical knowledge about the online track to help him set new records. Monthly became weekly when Max realized you had never actually driven the rig yourself and you found yourself in his lap - for teaching purposes, of course Max stated unconvincingly - and weekly became almost daily when you started to become a little too good on the track and his hands moved down your body, into your cute short shorts and he expertly slid his fingers into you until you fell apart for the first time, still sitting right there on his lap. Think you need some more practise, schatje, Max had smirked. You crashed into the barriers barely 100 metres in. And the rest had been history.

10 months later, this - situationship? relationship? friends with benefits? gaming buddies who fucked on the side? - had you confused. Sometimes he acted like your boyfriend, having homecooked meals together and watching movies on the couch, his head on your thighs asking you to rub his hair in the way he liked. Other times he acted indifferent, giving you the cold shoulder at parties or the rare times you would join your friends at a race. And when you would be stressed about work he would appear as the caring friend on behalf of your now shared group, rubbing your shoulder and offering you comfort and advice. But the worst would be when he would disappear for weeks, obviously busy with work but would cut off all communication and you would be forced to stalk his fan pages to get updates and read rumours of all the models he would be seen with overseas - only for him to turn up at your doorstep randomly wanting to be let in. You tried to be mad each time, yelling at him to explain himself, knowing this wasn’t healthy, really you did - but it was hard to resist his oh so talented tongue when he would lay you back and whisper sweet apologies in between your legs, making you come over and over again on his fingers, then with his mouth and finally on his thick cock that you had ended up losing your virginity too. You hadn’t realized how attached you had become to the champion driver until you were on a group trip to Amalfi coast and were caught making out on a moonlit beach by a stray papparazzi, making Max freak out.

He had been the one to very clearly insist on keeping things secret - for both your sakes, he said - given his very public status and you had been happy to agree, being a private person yourself. But as time has passed and Max became the only guy you wanted to be with, you had started to assumed he had been feeling the same - judging by the expensive diamond jewellery he would turn up with to pair with his wicked apologies, when he would always be the one you called to pick you up when you were too drunk to taxi home, and in the quiet, domestic moments when you were curled up together he murmured you understand me in a way no one else does, liefje.

Apparently though, Max has not been on the same page at all, which he made very clear when he publically dismissed the multiple viral pictures of you two - which now circulated the internet as finally some juicy gossip about the unusually single F1 driver had emerged. All your friends had sent the interview clip to you, with Max’s clear dismissal of I don’t know really know her, just an acquaintance from my friend group. My priority is my career, not entertaining the fangirls, he had said without an ounce of guilt on his handsome face.

You’d been desperate to give him a chance to explain himself, thinking it was a PR tactic, but Max had been ignoring your calls for days and you ended up knocking at his door. He’d let you in with a sigh, watching your eyes fill with tears as he said it had never been that serious, c’mon baby, when had I ever said it was exclusive, just a bit of fun for you too wasn’t it? Got a good fucking from me and a bunch of Cartier jewellery. Let’s just stay friends from now on, yeah?

God. What a fucking prick. You made sure he knew it too as you screamed it at him before storming off. You still hadn’t fully accepted it, checking your phone afterwards and expecting him to call and grovel for your forgiveness, until your friend group’s Sunday brunch a couple weeks later, where Max had made a rare appearance - and this time, with a pretty girl you vaguely recognised from a magazine cover right by his side. You had met his eyes across the table briefly, looking for any hint of remorse but finding none, as he quickly looked away, laughing at the girl next to him. You fled straight to Bianca’s after, into her arms and sympathetic gaze as she rubbed you through your sobs. It took you weeks to get out of your depressive slump, your heart completely broken and humiliated publically. You promised yourself, you were never going to shed a tear over Max Verstappen again.

You were a young, hot, and very talented woman living in Monaco - and now that you were no longer hung up on Max, you were free to monopolise on your single status. Althought he has left you with a broken heart, he’d undeniably made you a lot more experienced and confident when it came to navigating guys - without become too emotionally invested, of course. You only needed to get your heart broken once to learn never to do it again. You traded in your cute conservative outfits for more trendy, fitted pieces that show off your body just right as you started going on dates with different guys every weekend.

After a lunch date earlier that day, you were walking into a friend’s house for a group potluck one evening, still dressed in an off shoulder summery minidress and kitten heels, with matching makeup done to complete the look. You’re absentmindedly replying to a text from the guy who had said he’d love to see you again when you catch sight of Max for the first time in weeks, along with a new girl you hadn’t seen next to him. Before, this would have sent you into a spiral, but now you just push down on any unwanted feeling and greet everyone warmly. Conversation is flowing, wine poured and everyone digs into dinner, and when the topic of dating came up your friends were curious to hear about all the dates you’d been spotted on recently. You start telling some of them one of the funnier first date stories where the guy’s ex had been bartending and he had been paranoid the whole night about being poisoned. At some point you notice Max has been glancing in your direction. You look back, raising an eyebrow to say What? and this time he doesn’t break eye contact, staring at you before slowly drifting his gaze up and down your body. You flush and turn around, ignoring him the rest of the night and also ignoring the butterflies that swirled in your stomach from seeing him. Fucking asshole, checking you out while his girlfriend is right next to him on the couch.

Max’s heated stares across the room continue at the next gathering and the one after that and you continued to purposely avoid him. And if anyone noticed that you were dressed in cuter and tighter outfits each time, in the pastel colours that you knew he liked with matching heels, revealing more of your tantalising tan skin for Max’s gaze, they wisely chose not to comment. It all came to a head at a party on Max’s yacht one weekend. You greeted him politely as you stepped on, having come to terms that you two ran in the same circle and had to act like civil adults. He greeted you back easily, arm around a different eye candy model this time. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his usual playboy ways and went to go fix yourself a drink.

After you had all gone swimming and eaten dinner and were now relaxing watching the sunset, your phone dinged with a text to signal the arrival of Anton, who was the latest hire at your workplace and had recently been coming to a few events with your friends. He was also your newest hookups in your recent string of casual relationships - most of which had been average in bed at best, and you had your fingers crossed that Anton was going to deliver. Your group greeted him warmly as he came upto the deck, coming straight to your side and you leaned in to rest on his lap, all relaxed from your cocktails. You didn’t miss Max’s glances at Anton’s hands that lay on your thighs. The night went on and more drinks were drunk and people wandered off, yet Max’s agitated gaze was now firmly fixed on Anton’s fingers moving up your legs, lifting your skimpy sundress and rubbing your thighs. His own latest fling was completely ignored as she sat next to him, clinging onto his biceps. Smirking with satisfaction at having riled Max up for once, you excused yourself to head to the toilet downstairs.

You had barely entered the hallway when you were yanked into a side room and slammed against the door as it closed. Max?! you gasped, looking up to find his stormy blue eyes staring at you heatedly. You push him back with full force, What the fuck do you think you’re doing-

He cuts you off with a scoff, Oh, what I’m doing? You’re the one practically getting fingered by that fuckwit in front of everyone! He steps forward, now even closer into your space, and you can’t deny how turned on seeing him get all hot and bothered has made you. What, jealous Verstappen? Missed me that much? you tease. Too bad, you already fucked it up with me. Otherwise that could have been your hands on me instead.

Max looks positively murderous at your jab before a predatory glint emerges in his eye. Schatje, he says, making you bristle and demand stop calling me that but he ignores you. Schatje, you’re the one who wants my hands on her, hmm? I heard you, you know. Earlier when you were talking to Bianca about how none of the guys you’ve been fucking have been able to do it for you. Making you cum was never a problem for me, remember? don’t you miss it? Shall I fix that problem for you?

Oh, you do remember. For all his arrogance Max was an absolute god in the bedroom and you missed the sex dearly - and it seems Max had been missing it too. He easily lifts you up against the wall, your legs instinctively wrapping around him as trails his hands up your dress and you’re rolling your eyes and denying his words, telling him he was a cocky asshole and you hated him but not stopping him as his fingers slid into you, finding you already dripping. He smirks, all ego, but you quickly wipe it off his face by telling him it’s probably still wet from when Anton went down on me earlier. A complete lie but Max didn’t need to know that, did he?

And no one else needed to know that Max angrily swore at your lie as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, grabbing a hold of your tiny dress and whispering how you were such a dirty girl for wearing these slutty outfits and teasing him.

No one needed to know when he yanked his raging erection out his trunks and began thrusting into you, moaning in your ear about how you were just as tight as the first time he had fucked you, right here on the same yacht, and just like that night he’s going to make you come again now-

And no one needed to know that when you both emerged hastily upto the deck a while later, sitting down next to your respective latest partners but your eyes still fixed on each other, it was his cum that was now covering the inside of your thighs.

Once you had started you both couldn’t stop. Everytime you saw each other things got more and more out of control. A new influencer at Max’s side who was left alone when he fingered you to completion in the dark gardenshed outside a friend’s house party, his other fingers shoved inside your mouth for you to suck on and keep your moans quiet. An ex client of yours left wandering trying to find you, his date at his own charity gala, while you were upstairs riding Max on a plush chaise in the office up, heels still on and silk dress pulled up, making him swear in a way only you could get out of him as you took him in deep. You’d tell him you hated him, that you were only using him to relieve your sexual tension and he meant nothing and he would laugh, whispering in your ear Don’t lie, baby, I know you love this, your sweet pussy just needs my cock inside it, huh?

This went on and on for weeks, a twisted competition where whoever would concede first and drag the other one away was the loser - and you and Max both despised losing. It wasn’t until you were almost caught on camera by paparazzi yet again, this time in the back of his Aston Martin Valkyrie with your head between his legs, deepthroating him messily, using your tongue just the way he liked it- that Max freaked out again and demanded you two break it off at once. You’d rolled your eyes at his melodrama, thinking he was bluffing, but true to his word Max hightailed it out of a room the next few times he saw you, despite your best efforts at picking an outfit you were sure would make him crumble.

Time for you to up the ante, you mused. You weren’t going to stop until you walked away as the winner of this wicked game. You licked your lips as you devilishly thought up your plan.

Maybe this time you’d go flirt with one of his handsome driver friends and really piss him off?

—————————————————————————

A/N: love seeing requests you guys send, pls send as many as you want I need inspo!!! Hope you enjoyed this anon lmk what u think, will write Part 2 soon if u keen 🫶 soz I made it too long ahahah had to split it up

[astrophileous]

DEREK TALKING TO LITTLE BUG WAS ADORABLE I'M NOT DOING WELL (i might just be touch starved idk)

also derek's definitely suuuper overprotective like even more when bug is pregnant, it's Bad

You're touch-starved, I'm touch-starved, we're all touch-starved boo. Isn't that why we're here fantasizing about fictional men :")

but omg yeah yeah yeah I see your vision. I think bcs of what happened to her, the doctor would recommend Extra Maternity Care for Bug. like Derek would've already been bad if it was a normal pregnancy, but as soon as he heard the word "risky" from the doctor's mouth, it was as if all sense flew out of the window

btw this turned out to be more emotional than I planned KJKJAASSJ I'M SO SORRY I GOT CARRIED AWAY

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Derek's voice boomed in the middle of the HQ bullpen, attracting the attentions of fellow agents nearby including those of your team who were still in the office.

You rotated your head left and right, searching for the object of Derek's sudden vexation, only to realize a few seconds later that his eyes had been staring straight at you.

"You're talking to me?"

Instead of answering, Derek marched the few feet of distance separating you from him. "What are you doing, Bug?"

You raised your eyebrows in genuine confusion. "Um, strapping my gun to its holster?"

"You're not going out there."

"Excuse me?"

It had been a few weeks since the whole fiasco of your abduction. After a few days of staying in the hospital and a couple more weeks of bedrest, your doctor had finally cleared you back for duty. You were beginning to get antsy about going back to work, but your doctor's note was clear: you needed to take it easy once you were back, considering that the rough start to your pregnancy meant more risks looming overhead.

It wasn't an ideal situation, but for the sake of your baby, you swallowed the hard pill without a fight. Hotch couldn't be more understanding when you explained what was going on to him. He promised you that you could sit out any strenuous and potentially harming activities during the course of any investigation that might have fallen on the BAU's lap. Your fellow teammates were just as considerate, vowing to cover your ass at any instance you might need.

All and all, everyone around you was pretty clear-headed about the whole situation.

Except for Derek.

Since your last doctor visit, Derek had been driving you nuts with his overprotective streak. It was adorable, at first. The fact that he was extremely worried something might happen to you and the baby that he kept refusing to leave your side even when you were only stepping out to grab the mail or pay for takeout. But then, it got worse.

While his overprotectiveness seemed to have infiltrated every aspect of your life, it previously never affected your job at any capacity. Until now. You were seething internally over the fact that Derek had chosen to do this--to speak to you like this--at your place of work, where your coworkers could listen in to every word exchanged between the two of you.

Not wanting to cause a scene, you took a deep breath to press down the frustration, before your leveled voice spoke, "It's just a routine questioning, Derek. I'll be fine."

"You're not going out on the field, Bug."

"Derek." His name sounded like a threat through your teeth. "I'm not going out there to see a suspect, or to insert myself in a dangerous situation. Emily and I are just going to take a quick drive down to Woodbridge to interview the victim's family. Nothing is going to happen."

"Yeah, Morgan," Emily's voice chimed in from somewhere to your left. "It's gonna be fine. It's just routine questioning. I'm sure we can ma--"

Emily stopped talking and threw her hands in surrender once she noticed the daggers in Derek's eyes. You watched as she scurried off, as far away from the two of you as possible.

"You promised you'll take it easy," Derek said.

"I am taking it easy! I told you, it's just a normal questioning!"

Your own anger was threatening to burst by this point. Before one or the two of you could say something further--something that would warrant a lengthy call from the HR department--Derek tugged you towards the vacant pantry in the corner. Once inside, he closed the door behind him to shut out the rest of the floor from your private conversation.

"Do you realize how insane you've been acting?" Your voice dripped with anger. "I know you're worried, I get it. I appreciate it. But jeez, Derek, you aren't letting me breathe here. I can't do anything without you lurking around my fucking neck!"

The last echo of your voice dissipated into thin air, and yet, Derek still seemed to be rooted in the same spot he had been standing on since the two of you entered this pantry. He pinched the bridge of his nose for a second before that intense gaze was back to lighting fire on your skin.

"Do you know you were dead?"

"What?"

"In that basement. You were dead when I found you."

The frown between your eyebrows cleared once you realized Derek was talking about the abduction.

He had been refusing to talk about that ever since you came back home.

"I couldn't find a pulse when I got to you. I was the one who did the chest compressions before the paramedics arrived. I saw the heart monitor, Bug. You flatlined." Derek took a large step forward. "You were dead, and I held you in my arms. So forgive me if you think I'm being crazy with all of this, but the sight of you not breathing isn't exactly something I wanna see twice in my life."

The weight of Derek's admission settled heavily in the center of the room. Little by little, the ice that had hardened inside your chest was starting to melt. You looked deeper into Derek's unrelenting gaze, realizing that beneath the irrational protectiveness actually lay a justifiable fear he was trying to hide.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that, Derek," you offered sincerely. "But you can't keep me on a leash just because you're scared of hypothetical scenarios. The past is just that: the past. I'm safe now. Me and the baby are safe and we're here with you."

Derek closed his eyes and sighed. "I just don't want to lose you."

"And you won't. But you will drive me away if you keep this up," you told him. "Tell you what, I'll sit this one out for now. Just don't expect much from me for next time, yeah?"

"Thank you," Derek breathed out in relief. He closed the few feet of distance between the two of you in two long strides before securing you in his arms, pressing a grateful kiss to your hairline. "Thank you."

"Remember, this is a two-way street, Mister," you said as you looked straight into his eyes. "I'm expecting compromises to be made."

Derek flashed you a charming grin before answering, "Yes, ma'am."

When he pulled you in for a kiss, it was as if every remaining frustration in your bones dissolved into thin air.

The next few weeks managed to transpire in a mutual compromise. You tried to appease Derek's mind by choosing your responsibilities accordingly, while Derek tried reining in his protective instinct, even if miserably.

Still, even with the intensity lessened, sometimes Derek's antics were just too outrageous to excuse.

"Derek, you know this is absolute crazy, right?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Derek shrugged before adjusting the hold he had around your body.

It was the day of the earthquake drill at Quantico. Just thirty minutes prior, everyone in the building had been directed to evacuate from the emergency exit in a single file. Though it did explain the reason why you found yourself stuck in the middle of a barely moving line on the staircase, it didn't, however, explain the reason why you found yourself being carried in Derek's arms, bridal style.

"This is completely ridiculous," you grumbled once the line started moving again. "Everyone is staring."

"That's just 'cause you're pretty, Bug."

A few steps down, you could see JJ and Spencer stealing glances towards where you and Derek were standing. Your pleading eyes caught JJ's at one point, but the blonde woman only raised her thumbs up before the moving line made her disappear from view.

"You do know I'm still able to support myself on my own two feet, right?"

"Of course I do, Bug," Derek replied. "But why would you have to when I'm strong enough to carry you?"

Derek's answer made you groan in annoyance. A series of laughter from above compelled you to look up at the source, seeing two women whispering among themselves while openly pointing at your direction. You buried your face in the column of Derek's neck to escape their scrutiny, feeling the embarrassment traveled up your neck in a flaming red heat.

You were so never going to live this down.

[vid-writes]

Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader One Shot

This one shot is absolutely not for anyone under the age of 18.

Word Count: 3,474

TW/CW: Rough sex, sex with a stranger, slight voyeurism, tit fucking, back shots

Satoru was finding it rather hard to stay away from you these days. He wasn’t supposed to be pining over someone who wasn’t a curse user, but watching you work in that high-end clothing store through the window was something of a pastime for him. Your hair was always in a different intricate style every day. Your smile when helping customers was always genuine and reached your eyes. Sometimes, he even heard your laughter peal through the front window when a customer was actually funny, or your coworkers were gossiping to fill the time. He never followed you, never watched longer than a few minutes, but anytime a job brought him to this part of Tokyo, he made sure to stop by. You weren’t his usual tailored clothing store, but he was considering making the change.

The door opened with the soft jingle of the ever-present sleigh bells, and at the same time, Satoru’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Acquiring a new tailor would have to wait for another day, it seemed.

“Go for Gojo,” he said as he answered the phone.

“We need you to get back to the school. Principal Yaga is trying to convince the elders that Itadori is still dead. They’re asking questions again.” Ijichi sounds like he’s one second away from crying. The muffled yelling in the back tells Satoru this is serious.

“I’ll be there in two seconds,” he mutters and hangs up the phone. With a long sigh, he glances at you through the window one last time before vanishing into thin air.

A few days have passed since the last time the sorcerer was in this particular shopping district. Only this time, he was here on purpose and not pure coincidence. He drew in a deep breath as he pulled open the door to the tailor shop. With a vague excuse about an excursion to the other end of the island for the next week, Satoru finally found time to acquire a new tailor. You, to be precise. The familiar soft jingle of the sleigh bells met his ears as he entered the empty shop.

“Welcome to Toshiko’s Tailors; I’ll be with you in just a moment,” calls out a soft voice from somewhere deep in the shop. Satoru pulls off the thick sunglasses he’s wearing and rubs his eyes with one hand. Being able to refresh his brain might always make keeping limitless easier, but sometimes he needed a break. He figured that a tailor shop in this quaint touristy part of Tokyo wouldn’t be too much of an issue. Besides, it’s not like he hadn’t already exorcised all of the curses in this area time and again. Just to keep one particular stranger safe.

“Sorry about the wait,” a soft voice pulled him from his thoughts. He lowered his hand to find you bowed over at the waist. “I was just finishing up this week’s order for more inventory, but I’m all yours now.”

“No need to apologize so formally,” Satoru said as he leaned against the front counter. “I’m just here to take up your time for a few hours. I’ve grown bored with my old tailor and thought I would switch things up.”

You straightened back up, and that pure and genuine smile was already present on your face, “What made you choose this shop in particular?”

“Work often finds me in this area and also often ends with my clothes getting all messed up in some way or another,” he explains as he tries not to study every inch of your body. He’s never been this close to you before.

“Are you planning to overhaul your whole wardrobe as well?” It looks like you might not want to do all that extra work right now, but he wants as much of your time as he can get because he knows any interactions you will have after this will be short.

“Maybe not the whole thing,” Satoru chuckles as he rubs the back of his neck. “I would like a few new outfits, though.”

“Well then, right this way,” you say as you bow again, and he knows because of your training that you won’t straighten back up until he’s walked past. So he stares at your ass until he’s right in front of you. Once he’s passed, he glues his eyes to the wall in front of him and focuses instead on your footsteps. Confident and assured in the heels work requires you to wear.

“The second door on your left is the suite where we take measurements and where you can also try on some of the sample clothes we have available in-house,” you call from a few steps behind him.

“You guys have whole suites for tailoring customers?” He whistles, impressed and irritated with himself that he didn’t come in here sooner. Especially since he can’t get the sight of your ass outlined perfectly by the pencil skirt you were wearing today.

“We have three, actually, but this one is the only one not currently under renovation,” you say as you come around him and open the door for him. Yet again, due to training, you bow, and this time the sight of your ass makes his dick throb in his pants. The suite is almost twice the size of the main entrance, and Satoru finds himself whistling with appreciation again. The whole left wall is lined with mirrors, and on the opposite wall is a dressing room that runs the entire length of the wall. In the middle is a sitting area with tables and couches. Over close to the mirror is a dais.

“You have two options for the measurements,” you say and startle him out of his admiration of the room. “Either we can measure you with the clothes you’re wearing on, and I can adjust the usual few centimeters from there, or you can use the dressing room to strip to your comfort level, though nudity is not allowed, and we can measure you that way.”

Satoru’s dick throbs again. An excuse to be almost naked around you? He was absolutely not going to pass up that opportunity. “I’ll go strip down to my underwear then.”

He turns to the dressing room and walks inside quickly. Before he can try to talk himself out of it, he is stripping off his shirt and jeans. Once, in his boxers, he noticed there might be a slight problem. His dick is rock-hard in his boxers. He tries to will the erection to go away, and when that doesn’t work, he sighs.

After a few minutes of thinking about incredibly gross stuff, Satoru emerges from the dressing room, erection free. You are patiently waiting on one of the steps up to the dais with a measuring tape in your hands. And yup, now he was picturing you wrapping that measuring tape around his dick, and he really needed to stop. He slowly made his way over to the dais, trying his best to look anywhere other than you right now.

Once on the dais, Satoru finds it even harder not to openly stare at the reflection of your ass in the mirror. Its shape was so perfect and round, and he could almost bet you worked out religiously to maintain it that way.

“Arms out to your sides, please,” you politely inquire of him, so Satoru lifts his arms out wide. The measuring tape runs from one wrist to the other, and he watches as you produce a notepad from the inside of your jacket. He takes the time to really study your face now—the shape of your lips, the way your nose curved, how your eyes scrunched at the outside corners as you focused. You were driving this man crazy and had no idea whatsoever.

You took measurements of his torso, arms, and waist so many times he was starting to see this as torture instead of the perverted pleasure he had intended. “You may lower your arms now,” you finally say, and he nearly sighs in relief. Satoru really needed to pick better ways to meet women.

You dropped to your knees in front of him and tapped the outside of his left thigh. With ease, Satoru spread his legs so you could measure his inseam. Your fingers brushed the innermost part of his thigh, and he shuddered. You hesitated in writing the measurement, but otherwise, you maintained composure. As you wrapped the measuring tape around his thigh, Satoru shuddered again, and this time, you looked up at him.

“I get the feeling you’re not being entirely honest about your intentions here, let alone with me,” you said, and he felt every muscle in his body tense. Shit. He had been caught. Just as he opened his mouth to answer you, he noticed your eyes darkening. You moved the measuring tape to his other thigh without taking your eyes off of Satoru’s, and his cock throbbed in his boxers. So much so that not only did he see it, but he knew you had too, by the way you licked your lower lip.

“I know you’ve been watching me for months now,” you started, and he felt the color drain from his face, “and I always wondered when you were going to get up the nerve to come inside and talk to me.”

“Thinking of a valid excuse to not only talk to you but get you into a position where you and I were alone was a lot harder than I thought it would be,” Satoru explains sheepishly.

The measuring tape tightened around his thigh, and Satoru knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back if you gave him the green light. The tape slid from his thigh as your hands abandoned it and instead started to unbutton your suit jacket. Muscles tensed, and breath caught in his throat. Satoru watched the last button come undone and then gasped as your breasts spilled free from the jacket with nothing else underneath it.

“I’ve fantasized about you so many fucking times, so when I saw you come in on the cameras in the office, I took off my top and bra,” you declare as you shrug the jacket off of your shoulders. “Want to help me live out one of those fantasies?”

That was all Satoru needed. His hands dove into your hair, and he pushed his crotch into your face. A moan escaped your lips, so he proceeded to grind his bulge into your face. His hips rutted into your face over and over as his hands held your head firmly in place with fistfuls of hair. After a few minutes of this, he pulled his hips back and looked down at you.

“Are there any chairs in this room,” he asked as he watched you panting a little bit just from him rutting into your face. He was hoping you’d be this slutty and eager.

“No, but I can get the one from the office,” you said breathlessly as his cock throbbed in his pants again.

“Is there anyone else in the shop?”

“No, and what should I call you,” you asked as you cocked your head to the side. He smirked as he pretended to think about it.

“My name’s Gojo, Satoru, but you can call me Daddy.” He winked, and you rolled your eyes. “Go get the chair and lock the front door. Do not cover up.” The red in your cheeks was only outdone by the dark lust in your eyes.

You got up and left the room, making sure the door stayed open. In doing so, you gave Satoru a clear line of view of the front door of the shop. He listened to your still-confident heels click across the floor as your arms hung by your sides. The front door made a loud click, and at the same time, Satoru pushed his boxers off his hips and let them hit the floor.

Satoru grinned deviously as you came back in the room, dragging a chair behind you, and immediately blushed at the sight of his fully erect cock. You brought the chair over to the dais but didn’t put it on the dais. Satoru hummed as he thought about how he wanted to position the chair, but all he did was turn it ninety degrees. Now, he could see you in front of him and in the mirror. He sat down on the edge of the chair and motioned for you to come between his knees.

“Down enough that your breasts are in my lap, I want to fuck them,” he commands. So you lower yourself down until your breasts are resting in front of his cock. It’s an awkward position, but your eyes were locked on his, and your movements never faltered.

“Go on and spit on my cock so it’s wet,” he commands again, so you let a glob of spit slowly leave your mouth and glide down his cock. He groans as you both watch his cock jump from your teasing. You spit on his cock again before grabbing the base and licking up the whole length. Satoru groans again as your tongue laves over his slit a few times, and he buries his fingers in your hair.

After a good few minutes of licking his cock until your spit is running between your fingers freely, you sit back and grab the outsides of your breasts. Without waiting for another command, you lift up and then lower yourself down until his cock is between your tits and sticking out of the top. You squeeze your breasts together tighter and then open your mouth and stick your tongue out. Satoru groans as he watches your drool spill onto your breasts and finally snaps.

“Up until the tip is just barely between your tits, and then I’m going to pound them until your pretty face is painted with my seed,” he growls and lets go of your hair. You slide up until his cock is just pressed between your tits, and then stay still. Satoru moans this time before he starts to slowly thrust up into your tits. He’s still holding back, so you let out the moans you’ve been holding back. With your mouth wide open and drool spilling off your tongue so Satoru’s cock is constantly lubed up, the moans are loud and echo through the room.

His hips drew back and then snapped forward again. Then again. And finally, he was freely fucking your tits. His hips hit the underside hard enough that Satoru knew they would have bruises on them. But he also knew that he would come back tomorrow to soothe those bruises. As his cock throbbed and pounded between your constantly slick breasts, he felt his orgasm coming faster than it had in a while. His hips stuttered and then stopped as his cum spurted out of his cock in thick hot ropes that splattered all over your face, tongue, and breasts. With a loud moan, you swallowed the cum that landed in your mouth, and he groaned again.

“Are you satisfied with your service, or do you still need to be attend to Satoru,” you asked, and his cock throbbed in response.

“Stay here so I can get you something to clean up with,” he said as he slipped out of the chair. He retrieved his shirt from the dressing room and then returned to clean your face off himself. Once it was cleaned off, you opened your eyes, and he could see they were still dark with lust and desire.

“It looks like you still need attending to,” he purred. A shudder ran up your body that made him haul you to your feet and kiss you deeply. His tongue was quick to push between your lips and lay claim to yours. Satoru groaned as the taste of himself mingled with your saliva, and his cock was already hard again. He pulled back from the kiss and stepped away. With a swift movement, he turned the chair back to where the seat was facing the mirror.

“Lose the skirt,” he said as he palmed his cock and stroked it slowly. You pulled the skirt off, and it was just like he suspected you weren’t wearing anything underneath it. How could you when it was such a tight skirt? He pulled you in front of him again and then turned you around and bent you over the back of the chair. Your ass pushed against Satoru’s erect cock, and he moaned again.

“You ready for my cock sweetheart?”

“I’ve been ready for it for months now, Satoru. So please give it to me already,” you whined, and the sound made his cock throb painfully. He was really tempted to make you moan and beg some more, but he didn’t know how he would handle orgasming just from the sounds you’d make. Without any more waiting, Satoru locked his gaze with yours in the mirror as he pushed the head of his cock against your dripping entrance.

Your mouth fell open as he pushed the fat tip of his cock inside of your warm walls, and he growled as your eyes already rolled back in your head. “You might not come out of this the same.”

“I don’t want to,” you moaned as he continued to slowly slide his cock inside of your wetness.

“My cock is incredibly addicting,” he whispered as he finally fully seated himself inside of your warm wet walls. Satoru moaned again as you clenched around his full length and then did so again when your gaze met his in the mirror.

“Ruin me, Satoru,” you commanded him, and he nearly came just from that.

“As you wish,” he purred as he slid his cock back until just the head was resting inside of your pussy. He waited and watched your face until you started to squirm, which only took a few seconds. Then he snapped his hips forward and buried his cock back in you completely. He did this again and again and again. Until you were writing and whining.

“Please, Satoru, give me more,” you whined loudly. He chuckled darkly before he repeated the same motion. Pull out until just the head rested in your walls, wait until you were begging, and then bury himself in one harsh thrust. He could see tears brimming in your eyes and finally stopped teasing.

His his slammed into your ass so fast and demanding that the chair started to scoot across the floor. With a muttered curse, Gojo pulled you up by your hair until he was supporting your weight. He grunted and kicked the chair hard enough that it slid over a few feet. In a quick motion that left you gasping, he hooked his arms underneath your knees and hauled you up until your back was pressed to his chest.

“Oh, you weren’t fucking kidding,” you moaned as he raised and lowered you on his cock with the same speed and harshness as before.

“I really wasn’t,” he whispered as he kissed your ear.

“Fucking cumming,” you whined and clenched tightly around his walls. Then your pussy throbbed over and over and over as your orgasm tried to push him out. But he just kept using your weight to fuck you onto his cock. Your screams of pleasure filled the whole shop as he fucked you through your orgasm. And soon after, he could feel his own coming on.

“I’m about to cum, sweetheart, and I’d hate for my load to go to waste,” he purred in your ear as he continued to fuck you onto his cock.

“I have the implant, so please empty your load into my cunt,” you moaned as you tightened onto his cock more. His arms and hips stuttered as he started to cum, and then stopped as your walls clenched and then throbbed in time with his cock. Your scream from this latest orgasm nearly made his ears ring.

He gently slid you off of his cock and lowered you to your feet. You spun around to face him and then stepped back a few feet.

“Are you satisfied with your service, or do you still need more attention,” you asked him again.

“Oh, I’m satisfied for now, but I will be back for more,” he growled as he looked your naked body up and down and noticed you still had your heels on. You bent over at the waist into your usual bow, and he moaned.

“Then I am glad to have provided your service today and look forward to doing so again as often as you need,” you said, still bent into the bow.

Buy me a coffee?

[mariii1]

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ Who's Coming Towards You? (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

TUMBLR FINALLY ADDED READ MORE ON THE APPP anyway sorry for the delay I went to Portugal then got all my wisdom teeth removed AND im sick 😣🦷 Regardlesss im here and i might do a mini tarot game since I reached 400 FOLLOWRRS 😱but yeah we'll seeee, have fun wit this pac thoo 😜

1-If you're currently dating around or on dating sites, a fuckboy is coming towards you. They may not present as one, but they are. At first, you might think that this person knows what direction they're taking their life in or that they're just very driven in general. But this is just a facade that they put in order to lure girls in. They want a situationship and the don't want commitment. Even if you're not dating or looking to date, this is somebody who might try to ask you out, but it's kind of obvious that they only want kewchie. This could happen during your job, it could be a coworker or customer/client. They could try to hit on you and act like they're super deep or they genuinely want to know about you. There will be very wishy washy when it comes to their intentions, they don't like giving the straight answers.

2- Speed drive by Charli XCX. You might be in a Barbie/girlboss energy. What's coming towards you is some sort of opportunity. If you felt had you had a bunch of options you felt neutral about, youll have another one and I see you going straight for that. This one is really going to stand out to you and I see you when this opportunity is finally offered you're not gonna be hesitant any more and you're gonna be able to make up your mind. Specifically if you been waiting to hear back from somebody, you're going to hear back from them very soon, and it's going to help a lot.

3- So like the pile above clarity is coming towards you. This could be about a specific person, but I'm specifically getting a situation. There could have been some sort of drama in your life and you didn't know which side to take. There could have been a lot of stories and rumors involved. This could have been something really serious that affected you or somebody else financially. I'm getting that this has to do with somebody who's close to you or at least has some sort of influence on you directly or indirectly. You may have had to go to court, had to look up laws or contact a lawyer. But I'm seeing some sort of clarity not a final decision but just some sort of clarity. I think you might find the right lawyer for you if that's what you're supposed to specifically looking for. If not, I still feel like this heavily has to do with finances. Even if you are seeking out something romantically, maybe you want a sugar daddy, you're going to find someone who's going to help you in which you exchange some sort of money with them.

4- the number 4 could be important for you maybe you keep seeing it everywhere or you keep choosing pile 4 in pick a cards. Apply it to your situation but im predominantly gettting that someone you wanted or liked is coming toward you. I think you're still attracted to this person. For some, you could have felt dejected by this person even if they didn't outright reject you. You'll be surprised by how thoughtful they come across when they come towards you and I think they've been thinking about you for awhile. This is someone you've had a crush or attraction to for a minute. Your dreams of dating them will be reborn and may actually happen this time.

5 - HEY BIG SPENDEEEERRR the moment you walked in the joint, I could tell you were a man if distinction a real big spender.... Loveeee that scene from that movie (Sweet Charity). Okay so a few scenarios this could be somebody that presents like they have a lot of money or they could present like they're going to give you a lot of money even if they don't seem to have a lot. But I'm getting you're going to find out that they are broke very quickly and the only thing they have is dick to offer which doesn't pay bills. They probably fought for your attention and this may be somebody who glorifies struggle love. I'm getting they could actually be rich, but they're very stingy. And possibly after fighting for your attention they'll probably ghost you or just go to other people who aren't as naive. A lot of you could be sex workers and specifically getting strippers and this is just another man at the club trying to act like hes some sort of crypto mogul. If not, maybe you're on dating apps, and this is something that might happen.

6- Ooop so apparently this is my pile. I NEED A HERO I'M HOLDING ON FOR A HERO 'til the end of the night and he's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast and he's gotta be fresh from the fight..... Anyway this is someone who presents as a fuck boy but in reality, they're just a normal person. So I feel like this is a misconception you're going to have about them when they genuinely have good intentions. I think this person will sort come as some sort of hero in your life. This could come in the form of them giving you a financial opportunity. However, I feel like for most of you they're going to help you financially or be a co-worker that's really helpful. They could give you a really good idea for something financially. Even if you're in school, they could present some sort of job opportunity to you. I think they could also be good to you in general. But at the end of the day, you might actually end up sucking their dick fr like literally HAHAHA I don't think it will be a bad thing. Yeah, you might think that they're coming to ruin your life, but they're really not. Aka opposite of pile 5 🤭.

[afterdarkprincess]

Between the Pages

Pairing: Bret Hart/Shawn Michaels (pre-relationship) Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,427 Summary: Bret confiscates a copy of Shawn's Playgirl from the locker room and gives it a read in the privacy of his hotel room, discovering some things about himself.

AO3 link

Shoutout to @taydaq - your headcanon of Bret reading the interview directly inspired this 💖

This fic is Explicit and includes Masturbation and fantasies of Oral and Anal Sex- 18+ only. Full Tag list on AO3

tag squad: @feelschicken @elementaldoughnut12 @jeysbvck @harmshake @southerngirl41 @imabillyami @ambreignsfan4life (if you would like to be added to the list or I missed you please let me know!)

💗💗💗💗

Between the Pages

Bret Hart is a professional.

He comes into work, does his job, and goes home. He’s damn good at it, and he’s not one for gossip and drama. Whatever the rest of the guys in the locker room have going on in their personal lives that’s their own damn business as far as Bret is concerned.

Unfortunately sometimes they make their business his business.

Bret’s already not in the greatest mood when he gets to the arena for Raw that night. It’s been a rough few months with the contract negotiations, and his tolerance for bullshit has been pushed to the limit lately.

So when he walks past the door to the locker room, hearing giggles and tussling from the grown ass men he’s supposed to be coworkers with, his hackles are already raised.

He enters the room, unsurprised to find mostly the young and immature members of the roster playing keep-away with something.

“C’mon I wanna see-“

“I bet you do, Butch. Surprised you don’t have one of these in your gym bag.”

“No way man, Michaels ain’t my type!”

Bret fights the urge to roll his eyes at the Champ’s name. Of course that’s what this is about.

“Hey!” His voice bounces off the concrete walls, cutting through the noise and shutting everyone up. He stares at the guy whose clearly trying to hide something behind his back. “Give it here or I’m telling management to bench all of you.”

Sheepishly the man hands it over, Bret snatching it out of his hands as soon as it’s within reach.

“Bunch of children, I swear. Fighting over this garbage.” The shiny paper crinkles under his grip. “Who gives a shit what’s in here anyway, probably just Micheals on an ego trip as usual.”

A few of them start to protest but he just shakes his head and takes his leave, thankful that he and his brothers have the luxury of a separate locker room. He looks down at the crumpled magazine in his hand as he goes through the doorway, and of course he runs headfirst into someone.

“Sorry, are you—“ When he looks up, he finds the same face staring back as the one grinning up from the magazine cover. “Shawn, you good?”

He looks him up and down, the champ looks fine physically, no harm from the collision, but there’s an odd look on his face that Bret can’t quite place.

“Fine, fine.” Shawn replies, with a smile on his face that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “Nothing that you need to worry about, Hitman.”

Bret hesitates. Something is clearly not right here, but his relationship with Shawn these days isn’t the greatest. He really doesn’t wanna push or pry where he’s not wanted and make things worse.

“Okay- I’ll, uh. See you around.” Bret takes a step back to leave and waves, realizing too late that the hand he waves with is still holding the trashy girly magazine. With Shawn on the cover.

If someone could just strike him down now that would be great.

Shawn laughs real and genuine for a moment before an almost sadness returns to his eyes. “Yeah, see you around.”

It doesn’t sit well with him, but he has no choice but to leave it at that.

They’d been almost friends at one point, years ago now, before things got all… complicated. They’d never been as close as Bret is to his brothers of course, but their chemistry in the ring had translated well outside of it too. They’d even tagged a few times, but then Shawn had made other friends and the business isn’t kind. It’s cutthroat, every man for himself. And Shawn had shown himself to be in it for just that, himself.

But still he wonders sometimes what might be if Shawn hadn’t fallen in with the wrong crowd.

Surely he wouldn’t be nearly nude on the cover of some porn magazine.

Thankfully the Hart locker room is empty when he arrives. He should probably just throw the damn magazine away, but instead he shoves it hastily into his gym bag, where it stays safely hidden away from his brothers’ prying eyes.

—

Bret doesn’t have a huge part to play on Raw that night, just a promo and a backstage spot before he’s done for the evening.

Usually he would hang around for a while to see the rest of the show, but he’d spent most of the day in a car and the comfort of a hotel room bed was calling his name.

He didn’t think about the copy of Playgirl hiding at the bottom of his bag, forgetting it’s existence entirely until after he’d gotten a nice hot shower and was getting ready to settle in for the night.

Bret dove his hand inside the bag, searching for a fresh pair of briefs and was taken aback by the sound of rustling paper.

“Oh yeah,” He mumbles out loud, rescuing the crumpled up pages before returning to his search. He tosses the magazine onto the bed and puts on the briefs before climbing in himself.

He’s tired, but it’s early still. And he has to admit his curiosity is piqued.

Bret smooths out the cover of the magazine, eyes roaming over his scantily clad coworker as he reads the various headlines about other male celebrities. It is a decent shot of Shawn, signature cocky smile staring out of the page.

The blurb about his interview reads “This Heartbreak Kid Is Single, Sexy, And Waiting To Get Wet With You!” the text tucked into the glistening curve of his armpit and ribs.

What a joke. Who on earth reads this stuff?

He flips through the pages, trying to avert his eyes as much as possible in case he gets an eyeful of more than he bargained for. He knows what kind of stuff they get away with in Playboy, who knows what they do in Playgirl. Mostly he just sees ads for perfume and razors among the articles until he finds the full page spread of photos of Shawn, in and out of the ring, that mark the beginning of his interview.

The insert proclaims, “the World Wrestling Federation’s CHAMPION LOVER had our hearts pinned to the mat in record time!!” right over a shot of Shawn stretched out on a bed, looking inviting.

“This is really what the guys in the locker room were fighting over?” He mumbles to himself in the quiet of the hotel room.

He begins to read the interview, which is mostly just vapid nonsense. How did he handle all the adoring women fans and being “single and searching”. and if he ever yearned for a normal life.

He flips the page and is confronted with a large photo of a clearly nude Shawn with only a bedsheet covering his crotch. He looks vulnerable, hair tossed delicately over one shoulder. If his exposed chest hadn’t been completely coated in a dark covering of hair, he could almost pass as a girl.

A tiny flame of arousal comes to life in Bret’s stomach.

“Huh,” It’s a tiny sound, no more than a grunt that escapes his lips. He tries not to think about that too much and reads on.

Does the idea of somebody biting at your heels, the next WWF Champion wanna-be ever worry you? You know what? I don't think so. I'm just confident in my ability. I don't sweat anybody. Nobody can wrestle longer than I can, nobody can make people yell louder than me for more. And if they can, I just work harder.

That gets Bret’s blood boiling. “Just who the hell does he think he is?” He scoffs at the page, unamused. That’s the exact kind of attitude in these up and comers that he just can’t stand, the kind of shit that’s gotten him and Shawn into disagreements in the past.

A voice in the back of his head, one with more rational sense than he has right now, reminds him that of course Shawn would play up his confidence in this interview for all the ladies.

It shouldn’t bother him.

He scans through the rest of the questions on the page, mostly inane things about pushy fans. The next page is mostly text with a few in ring photos, should be more interesting questions.

So what's the first thing that attracts you to a woman?

Or not.

Apparently Micheals likes smart girls. How interesting.

Back to the physical. What kind of hair and eyes? Brunettes first and foremost. That seems to be the pattern. Eyes…not really a color- it's just something about them, that there's something behind them. It's just one of those things that has to hit me immediately. That's how everything important has been in my life. If I don't get swept off my feet right away, I figure it isn't all that real.

Bret’s fingers wander to his own dark hair, tucking a loose strand behind his ear as his memory brings forth several occasions where Shawn lost his train of thought while making eye contact with him, in the ring or backstage.

But that didn’t mean anything right? Shawn’s talking about his taste in girls, that doesn’t have anything to do with him.

The heat in his gut grows a little bit, and he feels it in his face too.

Being the WWF champion makes you the best-known and most popular wrestler in the world, doesn't it? (Modestly) Well, I'd like to think so.

A better answer, a political one. Bret can’t blame him there.

He skims through the next few questions, flipping the page to be greeted with several shots of Shawn post-shower, dripping wet and wearing nothing but a towel. A sight he’s intimately familiar with from so many years of shared locker rooms, but never with Shawn looking at him like that.

Bret feels himself stirring a little in his shorts, and he tries desperately not to think about that too much, instead reading around the photos. Unfortunately they’re mostly silly ones about the hearts on his gear, if women get intimidated by him, so on and so on. Softball questions meant to titillate the target audience.

The interviewer asked how Shawn got the nickname “Boy Toy”, something Bret had been curious about as well, even though he’d been around when Shawn’s gimmick shifted. Apparently the moniker had been given to him by an older woman around that time.

Why do you think she called you that? I guess I was some form of object to her at the time.

He goes on to say that he doesn’t mind being objectified, which Bret can understand, it is part of the deal in their line of work. But knowing that his nickname, something Bret’s thrown at him both in ring and out came from such an unsavory comment; it doesn’t sit right with him.

Shawn hasn’t always been his favorite person, sure. And he had to have agreed to using the Boy Toy gimmick, which he plays so well. But something about that answer feels so sad?

Maybe it’s the lingering look of sadness he noticed in Shawn’s eyes, but there’s a soft undercurrent to some the answers that show a glint of the unsure young man Bret used to know. It’s far more compelling to him than the obnoxious act Shawn puts on, no clear line where his character ends and he begins.

Bret feels a tugging in his chest- maybe he’s been too harsh on Shawn these last few years. The soft spot he had for the younger man is still there underneath all the misunderstandings.

He’s also acutely aware that Shawn’s being objectified in these photos, and the insistent pressure in his groin proves he’s not immune.

The last page has another half-page spread of Shawn on a bed, covered again in a sheet, stormy blue eyes staring back at him.

The thumb holding the page brushes softly against the waterfall of Shawn’s hair almost against his will. Has Michaels always been this…. pretty?

Underneath the photo is a blurb, a quote from an answer he hasn’t gotten to yet.

”I’ve been told that for a man, I'm overly affectionate. I'm kissy-kissy, touchy-touchy, feely-feely”

Bret drops the magazine.

Every match, every practice, every scrap in the ring, all of it comes back to him now. The feel of Shawn’s body wrapped around him, underneath of him, beside him.

He doesn’t know how to process this wave of feelings, the weight of what this attraction means, how weak he feels to it. He’s never considered himself gay before, but can he really be that queer when Shawn is so soft and feminine?

He’s not sure but Bret wants him.

His dick is hard, aching. He sticks his hand under the fabric, biting his other hand to stifle the noise he makes as he takes himself in hand.

He doesn’t waste any time, gripping himself tight and screwing his eyes shut, his imagination running wild.

Shawn’s lips wrapped around him, staring up at him with those eyes, looking at him the way he looks in the damn girly magazine.

Shawn’s hands tangled in Bret’s hair as he rides him, hips bouncing as their lips connect, swallowing down his whines.

Shawn beside him in the bed, grinning as he jerks Bret off, poking fun at the noises he makes with a warm undercurrent of fondness.

Bret’s already getting close, between the visions of Shawn in his head and the sweet pressure and glide of his hand around him, eased with the copious amount of precum that leaks from his tip.

“You gonna come for me, Hitman?” Shawn’s breath tickles his ear before tugging his earlobe between his teeth playfully.

He lets out a noise that’s somewhere between a whimper and grunt as his muscles tense and he erupts onto his waiting palm.

Breathing heavily as he comes back down to earth, the reality of what he’s done settles onto his shoulders and shame floods in. What does this mean for his sexuality? How on earth is he going to be able to face Shawn in the locker room? In a match??

He covers his face with a pillow and lets out a long groan.

“Fuck!”

—

The next day Bret is tired. He’d been kept up, plagued by thoughts of Shawn in all kinds of compromising positions. When he did sleep they came again in his dreams, leaving him hard again when the alarm clock went off.

He took a cold shower before getting on the road. He had a three and a half hour drive to make it to the city where he’s set to perform tonight, just a house show but he’d like to hit up a gym before call time.

Bret resolutely tries not to think about Shawn Michaels or the magazine that’s tucked into the bottom of his suitcase. He blares the radio instead, letting the familiar noise drown everything out.

He wasn’t sure if Shawn was on the card for the show tonight, but with him being Champ at the moment it’s hard to imagine he won’t be.

Either way nothing had changed as far as Shawn is concerned. They’re still two guys who don’t particularly like each other.

He’ll just have to keep himself composed when he sees Shawn. Act like everything is normal and he didn’t spend the previous evening thinking of him while jerking off.

He can definitely do this.

“And that’s when I told the guy to buzz off and get out of the bar!”

The sound of Shawn’s voice is followed by laughter. He’s surrounded by his usual gang of friends- Hunter, Diesel and a few others, when Bret arrives to the arena.

He tries not to pay them any notice, hoping that he can make it to the safety of his private locker room without having to interact with them. For a minute he thinks he succeeded, keeping his head down as he walks past, only breathing once the sound of their laughter starts to fade.

But then he hears footsteps. “Ey- Hitman! Wait up, won’t ya?”

Of course.

Of course it’s Shawn.

Bret turns, watches Shawn jog to catch up to him. He’s not in his ring gear yet, instead he’s wearing a nearly see through muscle tank with sweatpants. His hair looks freshly dried, curls a little frizzy from the humidity.

“H-hey Shawn,” He tries for nonchalant, hopes that Shawn buys it. Thankfully he still has his sunglasses on so there’s no chance of Shawn seeing the panic in his eyes.

“Wanted to get your advice on somethin’-“ Shawn starts talking animatedly about a match idea he wants to pitch to management, but Bret loses track of what he’s asking almost immediately.

His eyes get lost somewhere between the light in Shawn’s eyes and the sultry curve of his lips as he talks. He thinks about how Shawn’s lips would feel against his, how Shawn’s curls would look after rolling around in the sheets underneath him.

Bret only realizes that Shawn’s stopped talking when his eyebrows knit together and he suddenly looks pissed.

“Were you even fucking listening?” He rolls his eyes. “And you claim that I’m full of myself, you know I don’t even know why I bother when all you do is act like you’re so much better than me-“

Fuck. He has to fix this.

“Shawn-“ He interjects but he gets steamrolled.

“But all you are is a fucking JACKASS, Bret.”

“You’re right.”

That gets his attention. “I’m right? You’re damn right I’m right.”

“I’ve been a jackass, Shawn. Yeah I wasn’t listening, but it’s.” He sighs, trying to decide how much to say. “It’s not what you think, I’m sorry, okay?”

Shawn looks wary. “If it’s not what I think then what is it?”

Bret feels panic rising in his chest. He can’t just fucking spill his guts to Shawn. He doesn’t know how Shawn will react, hell Shawn might not be gay at all, he did just do a whole interview about how great ladies are. He might punch Bret right in the face, have his friends beat him up, hell he could tell the whole locker room and make his life a living hell if he so chose.

No way he can tell him the truth. Not now anyway.

He searches for something to say, but he can’t find any good excuse. He’s terrified and frustrated and all he can do is stare at Shawn and think about just kissing that distrusting look of his face.

But he can’t of course.

When he doesn’t answer, the scowl on Shawn’s face deepens with hurt. “Fuck off Bret.” He spits before turning on his heel and heading back towards his friends.

He makes it a few feet before Bret realizes he’s fucked up even further.

“Shawn- wait!” He reaches out and grabs Shawn’s upper arm, holding tight even as Shawn tries to wrench out of his grasp.

“Get your hands off me-“

“I read your interview.” The words fall out of his mouth, hanging between them as Shawn goes still. “In the girly magazine, I read it, okay?”

“Oh.”

Bret’s fingers burn where they’re still holding on to Shawn’s arm. After a moment Shawn’s other hand moves slowly and wraps around his wrist, not moving to pull it off of him, just another point of contact between them.

Shawn’s eyes stare into his, like he’s sizing him up, searching for something. He stares right back, unable to look away.

For just a second he imagines that Shawn sways towards him, like he might bridge the gap between them, for what he doesn’t know.

But suddenly someone clears their throat and the moment is over.

Behind Shawn stands Hunter, with one eyebrow cocked, looking at them both suspiciously.

“Everything good here?”

The question is clearly aimed at Shawn, but Bret answers anyway. “Yeah man, all good. Was just leaving.”

He lets go of Shawn’s arm, taking a step back, but Shawn’s fingers stay locked around his wrist, not letting go.

“Shawn?” Hunter puts a hand on Shawn’s shoulder, and it seems to break Shawn from whatever spell he’s under.

His fingers release Bret’s hand, and he steps back into Hunter. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Bret watches as they go, befuddled as to what the hell just happened. Shawn looks back at him for just a moment, a small smile on his lips as their eyes meet.

His stomach is doing Moonsaults, but he feels something like hope.

He keeps the magazine.

[rightshoeonleftfoot]

How the flowers bloom

Pairing: Marius "Jäger" Streicher x GN!reader

Summary: This is part 1 of my smitten!Jäger x oblivious!reader. Reader has a mental breakdown and Jäger helps you feel better.

Warning: Slight warning, reader has a big breakdown questioning their life. Apart from that it's all fluff. This series is a slow burn (somewhat lol).

Words: 2.3k

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

This not proofread! Criticism is welcome and encouraged. I also do take requests for this fic :)

Today feels dull. Work takes longer than usual, your coworkers' voices grate your nerves more than usual. You have less patience for the customers yelling at you, less tolerance when your boss yells at you for the nth time to do something you haven't had the time for yet. After all, she gave you a never ending list of tasks to do, from mundane to tedious. You were getting to it.

Now, your boss asks you to be at the cash register, whilst also berating you for not going through the to-do list she gave you fast enough. The vase is filling up, one drop at a time. Now, you’re standing at the cash register trying to keep it together. It's excruciating, smiling at the customers like the stress of your job isn't starting to weigh on you.

Your vision starts to get blurry as you speak to the customer. It's been five years and you're still just an assistant in the bakery. You wanted to start your own business. Now here you are, acting as some sous-chef for an ungrateful baker, not a step closer to having your own bakery. What am I doing with my life? The thought rings loudly in your head, as a drop of water falls on the receipt you were gonna hand the woman.

You look down at it for a second, as more droplets fall on the receipt. The vase has overflown, and you're crying. The realization hits you as you wipe the tears off your cheeks and smile at the woman awkwardly.

"I'm so sorry." You chuckle in hopes of making the awkwardness of the situation go away. The lady surprisingly doesn't seem to take it badly. Instead, she looks almost.. concerned. "It's okay love. Everyone needs time off every once in a while." Her british accent is thick, yet it really seems like she cares. You nod in agreement and print out another receipt for her before handing it to her and heading to the break room.

You swallow the lump in your throat, mentally preparing to talk to your boss. You've decided, you're going home. You finally spot your boss, and she stares you down. Her gaze is piercing, like she's reading your every move.

"What the fuck are you doing back here? You're supposed to be out front." Her arms are crossed over her chest. An uncomfortable silence settles as you get the courage to speak up. "I'm heading home. I'm taking time off for the rest of the day." Your boss's face hardens, though she notices your teary eyes and she sighs. "Fine, take the rest of the day off. I don't need you today anyway." She doesn't seem genuine as she storms out of the break room, going to take care of the customers waiting for their order.

You pack your stuff up, almost relieved to be going home. Though the stress of losing your job seems to hit you as you put on your shoes to leave. It's a good paying job after all, right? The only downside is it's not exactly what you want to do for the rest of your life, but it's better than nothing you suppose. You sigh as you step out of the break room, the tears won't stop flowing. It's a never ending stream as you sniffle quietly, trying to bring the least amount of attention to yourself.

You glance at the line as you leave the bakery. It's the lunch rush, the line goes out the door. As you go to open the door to leave, you make eye contact with a customer. A smile appears on the man's face. You know him. He excuses himself from the front of the line and walks quickly towards you, before trapping you in a tight hug.

"Marius, wha- why are you here?" Your tone is laced with laughter as his hug lengthens. He doesn't answer for a few seconds, choosing to hold you in his arms a bit longer. He finally pulls back, putting his hands on each side of your arms. He's ecstatic to see you and it shows. "My op ended early, things got done a lot quicker than we expected." His smile falters a little when he sees your puffy eyes and red cheeks.

"Herzblatt, what happened? Are you crying?" The worry in his tone is obvious. He leans forward, as though to get a better look at your face to make sure you aren't injured. He backs off quickly, his cheeks now tinted red. What was he even trying to do? Confusion takes over as you're not quite sure why he reacted like that. He quickly reaches for a tissue in his pocket to hand you. "I'm okay Marius." You try to reassure him, chuckling to ease some of his worry.

He completely disregards your comment about being okay. "Did someone hurt you?" Instead of handing you the tissue, he goes to wipe off the tears off your cheeks himself. However, he stops himself and awkwardly looks away before handing you the tissue. You take the tissue from his hand, wiping your tears away. "Thanks." You take a deep breath. "No one did this, I'm just.. stressed." You feel a bit bad, complaining about your stressful job to a man who defends people's lives for a living.

"You were heading home, right? Why don't I make you dinner?" Marius proposes confidently. He seems almost too excited to be at your house again. He's fiddling with his belt loop on his pants, you notice he looks almost.. nervous. Granted, he's been like that around you for a bit, you just kind of assume it's how he is. "I couldn't ask that of you, I'd feel bad taking up your time like that." You really just feel like you're taking up space. Not that you don't want to spend time with him, you just don't want to feel like you're bothering him.

His confidence falters ever so slightly. He feels a bit rejected, almost like you're making an excuse to let him down easy. "Well, I don't have anything else to do and uhm, I missed you so..." He looks away awkwardly for a second, before looking back at you and smiling confidently once again. His cheeks seem a bit more flushed than usual. "Okay, yeah, if you're really okay with it, it'd be really nice." You feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. It's nice to have a friend who cares.

"I missed you too, by the way. Let's go." You sniffle as you wipe the last of your tears. His heart flutters at your words. Marius puts his hand out for you to take, but you don't notice as you've already started to walk. He quickly follows you, walking side by side with you.

The walk back to your house is... animated to say the least. Marius has a lot of energy, and a lot to talk about. The entire time you have your hands tucked away in your pockets, to Marius' great disappointment. He's talking your ear off about stuff he's recently watched and read, and he never seems to run out of talking material. His laugh is contagious, and you find yourself forgetting about all the stressful things that happened today.

You finally get back to your house and open the door for him. You take off your shoes and lock the door behind you both. He takes off his shoes and heads to the kitchen, going over to your fridge and opening it with you hot on his trail. You sneak behind him, peeking above his shoulder to see what he's looking at. "What do you want me to make for you, Schatzi?" His tone wavers a bit due to your proximity. He starts to pick stuff up from the fridge and puts it back in an effort to distract himself from you.

"Pasta would be nice." You mumbled, your hand coming to rest on his side to stabilize yourself as you look at what you have in your fridge with him. He freezes, the thoughts in his brain becoming a bit scrambled. "I uhm, I suppose I could." His tone was a bit hesitant as he looked back at you, not realizing just how close you were to him. He looked away immediately, taking a few things out of the fridge and walking away from you and towards the counter.

Marius gets to work. He seems to know what to make with what you have. He's expertly navigating your kitchen, he knows exactly where everything is. You get out of his way, resorting to watching him cook. You're leaning on the counter, looking at his every move, not saying a word. Then, he drops a glass and freezes. He's never done that before. Especially not around you.

"Scheiße." He mumbles under his breath. He's avoiding your gaze, he seems embarrassed. "It's okay, I got it." You stand up straight and head over to the mess he made to clean it up. His palms are sweaty as he tries to help you clean the mess, though he seems to keep dropping everything. You clean up the raw egg that fell on the floor, but accidentally cut yourself on the glass. "Tsk, shit." Marius immediately grabs your hand to look at the cut. He inspects your cut and helps you up.

"Let's get this cleaned up, Liebling." He leads you to the washroom but you stop him. You never understand the names he gives you, you never bother to ask since they seem innocent enough. "I'm okay, Marius. I just need to rinse it." You smile reassuringly at him, and he seems to relax, his grip on your hand loosening. He doubles down regardless. "No, I don't want any glass in your cut." He pulls you towards him and into the washroom.

He drags you over to the sink, and cleans your wound for you. His hands are sweaty and you can feel it. He's nervous, but it's nothing out of the ordinary so you don't question it. You lean towards him to see what he was doing better. He's cleaning it up, putting your hand under warm water, rinsing your cut to make sure there's no glass. He puts some polysporin on it and covers it with a bandaid, making sure it's nice and snug. He finally looks up to see you. "There, it's all-" He stops talking abruptly as his eyes meet yours.

You're confused as to why he stopped talking. His face is very close to yours, but it's not bothering you, you're usually this close to him. He clears his throat and looks away. "Uhm, yeah, it's cleaned and you're good to go." He smiles awkwardly, and leaves to go back to the kitchen to finish making you food. You can't deny his help is making all your stress vanish.

You walk back into the kitchen, and smile when you notice he cleaned up the glass. "Marius." You call out to him as he turns on the stove to make the sauce. "Ja?" He doesn't turn to look at you. "Thank you for helping me with all of this." You sit at the counter realizing he'd put his sleeves up to his elbows now. "Any time, do you wanna talk about what's bothering you?" You contemplate it for a second before speaking. "I don't like my work." Marius is stunned for a second as he looks at you.

"I thought you loved baking?" He checked the sauce before leaning over the counter to pay more attention to you. "Well, yeah. I just-" You sigh, trying to find your words. "I want to have my own bakery, you know? I'm tired of being some- some sous chef to my boss." You clench your fists. "She treats me like shit, Marius. I've been there for five years and she's not any closer to letting me have a little bit of freedom when it comes to designing the menu."

Marius seems to think for a second. "Why don't you take out a loan? I'll help you find a good spot for your bakery, I can help with the renovation. You'll make that money back quickly." His positive nature is contagious. "You think I could do it?" You don't want to get into debt, it's worrying. "You have the experience and the passion. Besides, I can be your taste tester, ja?" He smiles, trying to lighten the mood. "But for now, focus on getting food and relaxing, Schatzi. I can set something up on the TV for us."

You nod, feeling relieved to have someone there for you. He focuses back on making you a good meal, occasionally spilling some things and bumping into dining chairs and counters as he navigates the kitchen. After a few minutes, he plates the food and presents it to you. Pomodoro pasta, and it looks mouthwatering. "Living room?" He asks as he holds both bowls in his hands, looking at you eagerly.

"Yeah." You hurry to your living room, sitting on the couch, and he puts the pasta bowls on the coffee table. Before you can grab the remote to turn on the TV, he snags it from you. He sits on the couch next to you and sets up a documentary on quantum computers. You lean back on the couch, leaning into him since he's so warm. He freezes but doesn't move. As you both watch and eat, you're hit with a strange sense of calmness.

You focus on the documentary, and though you don't understand everything, you don't mind. He loves explaining it to you anyway. You, however, never notice all the looks he gives you to make absolutely sure you like what you're watching. After all, he'd give you the world if you'd only just accept it.

[theamityelf]

The killing game survivors of Hope's Peak Academy all had their different ways of testing the waters of their new job at the Future Foundation. (Deliberate ones, and ones that just came as a result of who they were as people.) Kyoko tested the waters of being frequently late. Byakuya tested the waters of being frequently insubordinate. Hina ran laps around shared work spaces, Hiro scammed their coworkers, and Toko still wasn't technically a member.

Makoto...okay, he challenged the leadership's patience in a lot of ways, but one example that he genuinely couldn't help was that he was the first of the survivors to have to take a sick day.

And the second.

And the third.

Makoto lay in bed, groaning through a throbbing headache and feeling gross. He hadn't even had it in him to let anyone know he was sick, which just made him feel worse, because it reminded him of another time he hadn't let anyone know he was sick, and he'd almost been executed over it.

(Well, it wasn't like that was really the reason, but he still felt anxious.)

Waking up from his third nap– glancing at the clock, it looked like he was an hour and a half late for work –he heard movement in his suite. That definitely wasn't helping him not think about that one time, but it was probably just Kyoko or Hina or someone, coming to check on him.

It sounded like it was coming from his kitchen. Maybe Hiro, then. He often casually brought up how much money they could make if they sold off some of the Ultimate Hope's used cutlery. Or maybe Hina had peeked in while he was sleeping, seen that he was sick, and decided to bring him something to eat? It did sound like someone was using the stove.

Makoto dozed off again and woke to someone pulling a thermometer out of his mouth.

"101 Fahrenheit," an unexpected voice sighed. "You're usually a tenth of a degree above average, but still..."

"Komaeda?" Makoto said blearily. "What are you doing here?"

"Everyone was wondering where you were, so I took the initiative to come check before anyone more important could be forced to abandon their work," Komaeda said brightly. "I've let your friends know that you're sick. They were somewhat annoyed that you didn't call or email, so I unfortunately had to explain just how out-of-it you were when I arrived, which caused them to realize that you couldn't have gotten up to let me in. I think they're bothered about me picking your locks. Sorry about that. But I made breakfast!"

"Breakfast?"

"Here, open."

"Wait...My...locks?"

"Well, I had to make sure you were alright. I'd be a pretty bad intern if I let something bad happen. Now, here; you should eat something. Even if I made it."

Makoto ate a few bites of breakfast. A flush of pink filled Komaeda's cheeks, and he was smiling so much. A part of Makoto's fevered mind felt glad that Komaeda was this happy, but he could barely keep his eyes open to see it.

Nagito paused, setting the chopsticks down to brush back the hair that was plastered to Naegi's forehead. "Are you still awake?" he asked.

There was no answer, save for Naegi's soft breathing, accented by the quiet rasp of his congested nose.

Nagito took the unfinished food back to the kitchen. He gave into temptation and sucked the lingering traces of broth and the moisture from Naegi's lips off of the chopsticks, then pocketed them. He returned to the room and helped Naegi drink some juice. And he drank what remained in the glass after, then thoroughly scrubbed it clean with a light, giddy head and a chest full of shame.

He wiped the sweat from Naegi's brow and pulled up a chair beside the bed so he could sit there fanning him. Unfortunately, he couldn't switch hands when his wrist got sore, but he didn't mind it.

After all, Naegi needed him.

He was really lucky.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my coworker what to do?

I (26f) am a nurse. Alex is a tech. She's 29f. In case you don't work in Healthcare, typically the way things work is you have the registered nurse, then licensed practical nurse, then the patient care tech/certified nurse assistant. The licensed nurse is like a registered nurse, except there are a few things they can't do.

Anyways, Alex is a tech and in school to become a nurse. I know she is nervous about her tests so far. We worked together and are assigned the same area. We talked on and off throughout the night, and everything seemed to be going well! We laughed and joked, we had serious discussions pertaining to family. All seemed fine.

I noticed after another nurse's patient had passed, Alex became quiet. I assumed it was because the patient had passed away (please note we had no direct care with this patient).

Well, she went to go do something in one kf my patient's room. I asked her "hey, when you're in there do you mind getting the vital signs?" My thought process was, if she is going in the room and waking them up, why not get vitals to consolidate care. Now, vital signs are the techs job to get. She only said "yeah I know" and didn't do them. Which meant she would have to go back in the patient's room in an hour, waking them up again (its the middle of the night).

I didnt say anything, its her the patient's will get mad at not me, I do feel bad for the patient's to get woken up again though. I do not say that to her.. i said nothing about it.. An hour passes, and she's sitting on her phone. I don't really care once the work is done. I look up from my phone, saw that it was getting late and asked, " What time were you planning to get vitals-"

Alex cut me off and said," im not stupid I know I need to do it." I immediately responded, " I never said you were. Im sorry if it came across that way uhh I...sorry?" Alex responded "You telling me I need to do vitals, I know when it needs done. It makes it seem you think I'm dumb." I responded "I dont think you're dumb. I genuinely just wanted to know when you planned on getting the vitals because I also have to go in some rooms and we can go in together. Consolidate care. That way they can sleep"

She rolled her eyes but went to get vitals *which i didn't even care if she got that second or later* and I said again "i really am sorry if it offended you that wasn't my intent. I don't think you are dumb." To which she said "uh-huh, yeah okay".

We have worked together a few other times and she's never said or acted like this. I recalled all of our conversations throughout the night, and there was nothing that could have been misconstrued to her thinking I thought she was dumb.

Before we left i asked if she was okay cause she seemed upset and she brushed it off (this was my attempt to let her tell me she was hurt or not).

I dont know what I did to cause her to think she was dumb, I understand in theory what she was saying, but nothing had happened of me telling her what to do prior to that moment, and in my mind even then I wasnt telling her what to do j was asking her. I thanked her for her help multiple times throughout the night, and before we left after j asked if she was okay I said thank you for your help.

AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[itsjaywalkers]

ejehehe do ya have boxer james au head canon sorry im new here and just curious

I DO i just . don't know if i can anything new AND spoiler free considering this whole thing started here on tumblr

but !! i don't mind indulging u nonnie, i love talking about that au, and since you're new hopefully this won't seem too repetitive for u <3

reg has always been into journalism but the reason why he decided to focus on boxing is because of sirius!! it was a way to combine his passion AND his appreciation for his brother so it seemed like the perfect idea

as u can see the black brothers have a great relationship in this one and they left home together (but reg still talks to their parents on occassion)

james' trainer used to be his dad since monty was a very famous and admired boxer until he retired but . some shit happened and now james doesn't even speak to his father

sirius and james do not get along in this fic . they're rivals and james is threatening to take sirius' spot at the top so . they're openly hostile with each other and fans always take sides

regulus secretly enjoys being forced to interview james bc he finds him intriguing (and really fucking attractive but that's neither here nor there)

lily and james are sort of friends here bc they used to hook up (they still kinda do when the story starts) and reg gets soooo jealous whenever he sees them together

despite them getting along . there WILL be black brothers angst . considering reg is fucking the enemy

james and reg are always indirecting each other on twitter

james is a Prick in this one, he's my most arrogant james so far and he has . terrible anger issues .

this is one of the main reasons why his relationship with reg is so messy during most of the story (james does grow and change quite a bit throughout it tho)

barty loses a lot of his fights on purpose and lets himself be hurt because he has a very concerning obsession with the nurse (yes evan is the nurse)

barty and james' beef is even more legendary than sirius and james' beef simply bc their rivalry is absolutely unhinged and they lose all sense of decorum or sportsmanshin when they're in each other's vicinity

this fic is gonna be very explicit like . oby level explicit . it'll take a bit to start but once it does.. Yeah

peter and sirius are besties in this one and believe me the irony isn't lost on me

james and reg are caught fucking a few times . and it never stops them from continuing fucking . in fact, james gets even more enthusiastic

reg is trans in this one <3

genuinely considering writing a rosekiller side story in this one bc . i'm kinda obsessed with them here

reg's only friend (apart from barty once he meets him and his brother) is pandora, who's one of his coworkers and the one who has to hear all the graphic details about his hookups with james

she's a lot more interested in the pretty ginger referee she sees whenever she accompanies reg to the matches tho..

i'm planning to be . kinda realistic when it comes to portraying the repercussions of getting involved with a famous athlete (especially considering reg's job) and the whole relationship going public

james' most important ritual/good luck charm involves reg getting on his knees <3 after they start hooking up he refuses to get on the ring without reg sucking him off first

remus is very against james getting involved with reg (even tho he knows that mf is gonna end up doing whatever the hell he wants)

james and remus have been friends since they were kids so despite all the bickering and arguing they're very close

james doesn't wear glasses often because of all the fighting (but reg likes him better with them)

and idk what else to say i feel like i've talked so much about this au that there's nothing u guys don't know already lmao

[dingochef]

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x You (OFC)

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (MDNI 18+ Only), Stalking, P in V, oral (female and male receiving), Semi-public sex, light spanking,

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: You and Jake move forward in your relationship and discuss some things that can be awkward sometimes.

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2: Labels

Word Count: 3.1k

It's a few weeks later and your life with Jake has started to fall into an easy rhythm. He has started his job at Top Gun and is really enjoying it. You can tell by the stories he tells you about his students he is genuinely engaged in making them better pilots. Not to mention some of them are hilarious. Jake spends most of his time away from work with you and spends the night more often than not. He has wisely brought some of his shower products and a few other necessities to your house. The rate at which your relationship is growing feels right, feels natural and unforced.

You find yourself thinking of the blond aviator at work and a goofy smile comes to your face. Sheila, the other token woman in your work group, has started calling it your "Jake Face." Sheila being one of the few people you're close to at work. You'll grab lunch and drinks together a few times a month. You smiled like an idiot when she told you the other day over tacos,

"You seem really happy, I hope all this works out for you."

You laugh when you think of her reaction to meeting Jake last week. She happened to be coming in the building at the same time as Jake was saying goodbye to you after you had met for lunch and he walked you back to work. You introduced them,

"Shiela, this is my boyfriend, Lieutenant Jake Seresin. Jake, this is my favorite coworker, Sheila Adams."

Sheila wasted no time in saying to Jake,

"So, you're the one she gets that lovey dovey face for at random times."

You blush and before you can say anything back.

"It's probably the same face that my coworkers make fun of me for," he replies.

Before the conversation can escalate, you kiss Jake on the cheek and say,

"See you at home later."

He kisses you back on the cheek and takes the hint,

"See you later, babe."

Sheila and you walk to the elevator and she mercifully waits till the doors close before she gushes, "You didn't tell you you were dating a Greek god. That boy is like movie star gorgeous, good on you. Does he have a brother?"

You laugh,

"Yes, he does, he's a doctor and he's taken. Sorry Sheila."

She sighs,

"I'll just have to appreciate the view when you bring him around."

You laugh as long as you can before the elevator arrives at your floor.

You got home first that day and started pulling out some things to get dinner started. You've found that Jake has pretty similar eating habits to yours, pretty healthy with occasional treats. Your approach is to maintain your body to do the activities you like to do with good food as fuel. He obviously takes great care of his body and keeps himself in peak condition because flying a fighter jet is a very physical activity. You've pulled out the chicken that's been marinating, and the start of a large salad, and grabbed some asparagus to throw on the grill with the chicken. You step out to your patio garden and pick a ripe tomato, a few random herbs, and a red pepper to throw in the salad. You're back at the kitchen sink rinsing the vegetables when you feel those familiar arms snake around your waist and Jake's slightly stubbled chin on the side of your neck. He murmurs,

"Hello there,"

as he kisses your cheek and gives you a hardy squeeze. You lean back and give him a peck on the cheek and say,

"Welcome home."

He breaks the hug and asks,

"What can I do to help?"

"Start up the grill, I've got some chicken and asparagus to cook up."

Jake agrees and by the time he has the grill going you've gotten the asparagus and chicken prepped and you hand him a platter with the food on it. The rest of dinner prep goes quickly and you are soon seated at your little dining table.

"This is good, is there rosemary in the chicken?"

he asks, patting his belly in the stereotypical gesture of fulfillment.

"Good pull, that and some thyme and lemon juice," you reply.

"Thanks for dinner, I can't tell how much I appreciate it. The thought of eating in the mess hall or cooking in my sad little kitchen for one is mildly depressing."

"You're welcome, you're very helpful and very good company."

You both make quick work of the dinner mess and as you set the dishwasher to run, you ask,

"You want to go for a walk?"

"That sounds delightful."

You throw on a pair of flip flops and you and Jake head out towards the beach. You walk along the boardwalk further back from the surf. There's a bench with a great view of the sun setting off Point Loma over the Pacific. You pull Jake's hand to sit and you do, his arm wraps around your shoulder, you tuck into his side as the night is getting cooler as the sun sets. He is staring off into the distance, thinking about something, you can tell. He looks down and catches you staring at him, grins, and asks,

"And what are you looking at, Ms. Matthews?"

It reminds you of getting caught by a teacher daydreaming and you wonder if he uses the same tone with his students.

"I was just admiring the scenery and wondering what you were thinking in that beautiful head of yours."

"The sunset is that way,"

he points and laughs. There is a slight pause and he takes your hand in his,

"You introduced me as your boyfriend today. That's the first time you've done that."

You realize he's right, you are now mildly alarmed since he's pointing it out in such a deliberate way. You take a little breath and say,

"I know we haven't put labels on anything, but I think we've moved past a lot of lesser categories and are working towards some bigger ones. I want to call you my boyfriend, are you okay with that?"

Your voice goes a little higher at the end of the question.

He breaks out that panty dropper smile, and asks,

"Are you asking you to go steady with you Elsa?"

"Yes, but only if you get to wear your letter jacket and class ring,"

you respond as you give him a mock slap to his chest. He picks up your joined hands and kisses your knuckles,

"All kidding aside, yes, you would very much like to be known to the world as your boyfriend."

You can see how happy he is with this leveling up of your relationship. You know that sometimes he feels like he's a step ahead holding his hand back to you to join him and he doesn't want to rush you. The fact that you have made this jump to him first even if it is just putting a name to all that you share has his green eyes sparkling. He leans down to kiss you and you wrap your arms around his neck. One of his hands cradles the side of your face and the other is on your back pulling you even closer to him on the bench.

You continue to kiss and grope at each other as much as is prudent in public, Jake has his uniform on still. It's only minutes later when a teenage guy yells from a passing car,

"Get a room!"

that you break apart.

You stand up first and hold out your hand to him, he stands up and takes it.

"Let's go home, before we are caught like some horny teenagers," you suggest.

Jake laughs and puts his arm around your waist and you start back towards the house. As you walk his warm hand is on your hip, his fingers playing at the lacy waistband of your underwear he can feel through your light dress. You can definitely tell what is on his mind and his gentle and unsatisfying touch is keeping it at the forefront of your brain too.

As you round a corner close to your house you take a quick look around, stop and put your back to the wall of the building you are next to pull Jake towards you. You reach up and pull his head down to give him a kiss. This is not a gentle kiss, you open your mouth and as soon as he mirrors yours you practically shove your tongue down his throat. you hear a small sound of surprise turn quickly into a moan. Your hands are all over each other. Wisely, you pull back from the kiss and say,

"We need to get home."

He nods as he touches his lips and grabs your hand to quicken the pace of walking. It's only one more block to your house, for which you are incredibly thankful for. You push your luck tucking under his arm and wrap your arm around his waist, settling your hand into his back pocket. He looks down at you and smirks and says,

"You are playing a dangerous game, El,"

in such a deep voice that you can feel the rumble through his chest. It almost sounds like a growl.

"Am I?"

you say as you take the last few steps to your front door and unlock it. You look over your shoulder and he is right behind you smirking. You step through the door and suddenly Jake has picked you up and backed you against the wall, he kicks the door closed.

Your legs and arms wrap around him instinctively and his lips are on yours hard and ready, almost bruising. You are pulling at the bottom of his uniform shirt trying to feel his skin in some way. He pins you against the wall and supports you with his legs as he hastily unbuttons his shirt and flings it to the floor. He pulls off his undershirt and drops it. One of his hands returns to holding your right leg and he leans you forward towards him just enough to pull your dress off. He plants his hand on the wall next to you to support his weight. His mouth is on your breasts, instantly sucking and gently biting at your nipples make them hard as his saliva cools on them. He moves his mouth up to your neck where he is sucking hard at the skin, you wonder if I'll have a hickey tomorrow. You lean down and return the favor on his neck, just gently scraping your teeth along the thick cords of his neck. You trail one hand down his torso and try to undo his belt buckle leaving your other arm around his neck.

Jake quickly pulls his hand down and makes quick work of his belt buckle and zipper. He pushes his underwear down just enough to free his cock. He is hard and ready against you, your underwear in the way.

"God, El, you're so ready, so hot, so wet,"

he grunts out as he thrusts against you, your underwear now more than an annoyance. He pulls back his hand from the wall tugging at your underwear. The ripping sounds echoes through the room and suddenly Jake is inside you.

"Did you just rip my underwear off?"

you ask, more panting than speaking between each thrust.

"Couldn't wait any longer. Needed you,"

he replies back in the same breathy pattern. You move down the wall a little bit each time he thrusts and he is getting deeper into you each time. His hands are firmly holding your legs up and in place for him to fuck you.

"El, touch yourself. Make yourself come around my cock,"

he demands from where his face is pressed into the crook of your neck.

You comply and move your hand down quickly, you are so turned on and almost overwhelmed by his deep thrusts into you that you know it won't take much. You run hard circles around your clit and your moans become louder as Jake's do.

You start to mumble the thoughts that are swirling around in your brain.

"Oh god, Jake, fuck–," you stutter overwhelmed by one particularly deep thrust that you feel all the way up to your cervix.

"So good. God I love your cock, I'm getting close, Jake. I'm going to come around your cock and I want you to come inside me, fill me up with your come."

His moans start to turn ragged and you press on your clit a little harder triggering your orgasm like a tidal wave. You clench hard around Jake and he is spilling inside you on his next thrust, same dirty talk, flowing from him,

"Fuck El, so good, so good."

He slowly stills as the waves of your orgasm are flooding over you, making you clench around him each time earning you another cry of pleasure from him. Your legs are shaking as he puts you down gently after pulling out of you. Jake leans down to kiss you and you step up on your tiptoes to reach his lips, the kiss is long and sweet. A contrast to the intense passion you just shared. He looks down at you and you both start to laugh, the humor of the situation catching up to you.

"That was amazing, gotta keep that in the playbook for later,"

you say as you lean down to retrieve your dress.

"Although, I might run out of underwear I'd we do it too much."

Jake laughs,

"What a pity that would be, you forced to go commando all the time."

He is pulling his pants and underwear off and picking up his uniform shirt. He has some casual clothes he has stashed here that he'll put on to hang around the rest of the night. You head to the bathroom for some cleanup and meet him in the bedroom as he is hanging up his clothes, presumably so he can rewear some of them. You are looking through your underwear drawer for a replacement pair when he wraps his arms around you from behind. He has put on a faded NAVY shirt and a pair of boxer briefs.

"That wasn't too rough, was it? you don't want to hurt you,"

he asks, sincerely. He is gently kissing the hickey on your neck as he says it.

You turn around and look him in the eyes and answer his question,

"That wasn't too rough, it was hot as hell. Don't worry, Jake, I'll let you know when it's too much. And if we venture into some of those other areas and kinks, then we'll set up a safe word, etc."

Jake's eyes widen for a moment and then that smirk of his forms on his face.

"Are you telling me, Elsa, that you have some specific interests you want to incorporate into the bedroom?"

"Yes, you have some interests, fantasies, kinks, whatever we want to call them."

You pretend to accidentally grope his cock as you lean down to put on another pair of underwear earning a hitch in his breath as the touch registers. You stand back up.

"I also assume you have some things you'd like to add to our repertoire," you say as you head out to the kitchen for a much needed glass of water.

Jake follows and takes the glass of water you hand him before you pour your own. You can tell he's very intrigued by this conversation.

You go and sit on the couch and he joins you slinging his arm around you.

You take the lead, you get the feeling that Jake doesn't want to push too hard on you in some areas, but this is one that you feel confident talking about. You've had a few terrible sex partners and have learned to ask for what you want and need.

"I want to stress this discussion isn't because I'm in any way dissatisfied with our sex life, because I've not had sex this good ever. It's because you trust you to ask you for some of these things and have you take care of me. I don't think you have any specific fetishes, but some things I like or fantasize about that are beyond the usual range of sex acts, you know, oral, hand jobs, vaginal intercourse. You?"

"Well, this is not a conversation you expected to have today, but I'm glad and honored that you're sharing this with me. And yes, you do have some things I'd like to explore with you."

Finally, he blurts out a question, "Are you trying to tell you you're into anal?"

You suppress a laugh, but you're glad he's getting over his inhibitions about talking about all this.

"I've tried it before, with guys who were smaller than you," you see him smirk and his ego puff up a little, "It was okay, it just didn't do anything for me, plus it's a lot of work, lube, and time. If you rush it, it does hurt. Is it something you're interested in?"

Jake laughs recalling a memory, "I've tried it before and had a similar experience. For you it's definitely something you see more in porn than real life and not something I need."

"How about porn? Big connoisseur, not a fan?" you ask.

"I consider it a useful tool, mostly when I'm definitely by myself and feeling lazy and just horny and need to rub one out. You?"

"It's not my go to for masturbating, it's hard to find porn where the woman is actually getting off and not faking it or it's degrading and not sexy. Prefer my own imagination."

"Well, speaking of you touching yourself, that is something I definitely want to see. I want to see you make yourself come."

You look at him and reply,

"Well that is definitely something we can make happen. We don't have to get into all the details of all of it now, there's some fun in discovering these little facets of each other. I just wanted to bring it up and have a conversation before our brains are fried by lust and some things you have to prepare for."

"Did I mention you are a smart woman?"

"Maybe, once or twice. But I like hearing it again and again."

Jake leans over and gives you a long kiss. You break apart and you yawn, the day catching up to you. You stand up and hold out your hand to Jake.

"I'm ready to crawl into bed and cuddle up with my boyfriend. Coming with me?"

A smile blooms across Jake's face, and he replies, "Sounds perfect."

Chapter 3

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered

@mayhemmanaged

@callmemana

@dempy

@hangmanscoming

@lanie-k

@callsign-viper

@senjoritanana

@djs8891

@atarmychick007

@memoriesat30

@genius2050

@midnightmagpiemama

[melodythebunny]

maybe someday

Valentine's day.

Roxxi couldn't say she outright hated the holiday- given how it was mainly for companies to exploit and earn more money. 

But rather it was just a sore reminder of just how alone she was. Her, Roxanne Fowler, the biggest reporter in Fair City, alone. Maybe not truly alone. But did it count when she was surrounded by a bunch of fakes?

“Heya, Roxxi rocks.”

Roxanne raised her eyebrow at her approaching coworker. Freddy Fahrenheit, the weather man.

“hello Freddy.” Roxanne greeted.

“Y’know with Valentine's coming up I figured-”

She cuts him off, not even mildly interested. “No thanks, I have plans already.”

That was a lie of course. Knowing she would just spend her day cooped up in her apartment avoiding the world. But Freddy didn't have to know that.

She didn't miss how his face turned into a scowl for a moment. Very brief in fact. Not many would notice. But she learned to read faces long ago. For a moment she wonders if she had misjudged him. That was quickly squashed however in the following days where it had been apparent she had dodged a bullet.

Roxxane didn't hate her job.

But it became bluntly clear she didn't get this job off her intelligence. Part of it was for the money her family funded for the news station. And they just wanted a pretty face for the screens. So it wasn't a surprise for Roxxi when people wanted her around. Knowing why.

Still left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Then there was Amazo Guy.

He was like a breath of fresh air. Too good to be true. He was just so…genuine. The first time Roxxane had to do a cover story, admittedly she was excited. Having been somewhat of a superhero comic book fan growing up, it felt like a dream come true. She winded up asking more questions than what was written down for her to ask.

She stopped seeing how overwhelmed he was becoming. Amazon didn't say anything but she could see him holding a strained smile, one she often used.

Oh…

“Sorry..I got excited..and I know that's not a valid excuse…” Roxxi says earnestly. 

“It's alright. I get that it's your job and I've had way more invasive questions than that.” Amazo said, trying to wave it off.

The news reporter glanced down at her paperwork realizing she hadn't even begun writing down anything. “Nah these weren't even on my task list. you know what…”  She yeeted her clipboard somewhere behind her. “We don't even have to do this interview if you don't want to.”

“Really?” The hero looked at her perplexed but she could also see he seemed a bit relieved.

“Yea, really.” Roxxane said. She found herself meaning it too. More and more often did she start realizing that the ones behind the capes and masks were people too. Constantly having to deal with expectations of others. Often judged and opinions discarded as Long as the others got what they wanted.

Maybe she and Amazo guy weren't so different after all.

Perhaps that's why she began to fall for him. Roxxi hadn't even noticed until she looked at the card she had made. Her face flushed with embarrassment.

Lois Lane to your Superman. She had written.

How cheesy.

a few poetic lines couldn't tell him how much he meant to her. She crumpled the paper and tossed it into a trashcan.

She looked at the photo she had taken with Amazo guy. She really was supposed to unmask him. But honestly didn't care about what her bosses wanted. Couldn't fire her without losing the funding they craved.

She found herself unwrinkling her crumpled card.

Maybe someday…

@blueweirdness

@ninjastormhawkkat

@erraticeris

@lartmacabre

@liloskull343

[threadsun]

Me: I don't think we talk about yandere Joseph enough

Also me: Aren't you a writer, fuckin let loose

So! Picture it with me, you are the barista at some local cafe near a film set. Because of all the high class actors and their respective followers coming in and out you're pretty used to the weird shit these people order. So imagine your surprise when mister "Thesis long order" Laurent walks in with his coworker who just orders "Uh, gee, I don't know. Whatever you get, I guess?"

You make Jean's order first so he doesn't bitch and then make your favorite drink for his friend. Your fingers brush each other as you hand him the drink and you think you see him blush before taking a sip "Woah, this is really good. Thank you" You try to tell him it's just your job but the way he says it just...does something to you. People rarely thank you here anyway but that one sounded so genuine, so real

After that Joseph becomes a regular, usually picking up Jean's abomination along with something to keep him going as well. He never orders for himself though, always trusting you with his morning coffee. There's something kind of intimate about it, all the trust he holds in you, all the time he tries to spend with you even though you can tell he's both busy and exhausted. In this town of fake complements and latter climbers he's so refreshing, so charming, you jokingly tell him if you didn't have a boyfriend you'd have asked him out by now

"...Boyfriend?" The way he says it sends chills up your spine, he was so chipper a few seconds ago but now he looks like he just found out his dog died. You tell him not to worry, he's not the jealous type so hanging out with guy friends is fine "Right, yeah, um...sorry I have to go" And like that he's gone

Joseph still shows up the next day but something's off about him. He looks...guilty? You figure it's because now that he knows you're taken he feels bad about trying to covertly flirt with you everyday so you brush it off. That night you're supposed to be picked up by your boyfriend so you two can go on your date but he's running late, like, an hour late, he's not answering his phone either

After waiting out for about thirty minutes Joseph walks by the cafe "Oh, hey, are you ok? You're usually gone by now, aren't you? I mean, I have to walk by here every night to get back to my place and I've never seen you out here before" You tell him you're just waiting on your boyfriend but it's already been half an hour, so, fuck it. You'll just talk to him tomorrow

"Oh, well I'm sorry to hear that. Want me to walk you home again?" Joseph had walked you home a few nights already seeing how dangerous these streets can get at night, so you take him up on his offer. You two walk to your apartment building but once you get closer you start to hear sirens. You and Joseph pick up the pace, running until you see it, there are cop cars outside of your apartment building

You walk up to the cops and ask what happened, they tell you there was a potential homicide in the building earlier that night and that you can't go in until they've collected enough evidence. You're heart drops onto the concert and shatters when you hear your boyfriend's name fall from their lips

You don't remember much after that, just the warmth of Joseph's hands on your shoulders as he walked you to his apartment. Over the next week you stay with Joseph, both because your apartment was now littered with cops and awful memories, that and you don't think you can be alone right now. Joseph is as kind as ever, letting you stay rent free while you take some time off work to grieve

After a few months, life gets better. The scars on your heart will never heal fully but they're made easier to deal with, especially with Joseph around. He's so sweet, even helping you fully move into his place after you tell him you don't think you can go back to that apartment building again, he even makes your coffee now, exactly how you like it, always saying "I learned from the best"

It's so domestic, you don't even bat an eye when he wraps his arms around your waist while you're cooking, leaning in and giving you a kiss on the cheek while you ask him about his day. Everything is about as perfect as it could be with a mending heart, that is until you start being in charge of laundry. Joseph had a pesky habit of throwing his clothes off before going to bed so you have to really look for some of them, and that's when you find it, one of his shirts covered in old dried blood

Oughhhhhhh this is so good!!! Yandere Joseph is very underappreciated >:3c

[marzipanandminutiae]

ahh working in historical houses sounds like such an interesting experience! I notice you mention some of them being haunted - have you or your coworkers ever had any ghosty experiences? I'm a new follower, so sorry if it's something you've been asked about before! hope you're having a lovely day

No worries! Thanks for the well-wishes, and I send you the same.

Yes, I and many people I know have had ghost encounters at our workplaces. Much as I roll my eyes at people who assume every historical house must be haunted...well, some of them are. But it can become very normal when you're dealing with it every day. A lot of museums have little rituals the staff have adopted to keep the ghosts happy, often as simple as saying "good morning" and "good night" when opening and closing. My current museum isn't even supposed to be haunted, and I still do that just in case, to be polite.

Also, ghost encounters are often pretty unexciting. A light going on or off with no explanation, hearing footsteps when nobody's there, objects being moved, doors opening or closing a bit, motion detectors beeping for no apparent reason, etc. are among the most common you hear about. It's not usually that scary, and you're here to do a non-ghost-related job, so. You just learn to coexist. Say hello now and then, ask for behaviors you don't like to please stop. Swap stories with other heritage site workers. It's part of the industry.

The most dramatic experience I've had at work was hearing a staff entrance door open and close (complete with the door sensor ding) and footsteps in the breakroom nearby, when nobody onsite was in that area. One of my coworkers at that museum had the elevator door repeatedly open and close behind her during a tour, when a guest asked if the house was haunted. She wasn't scared- just annoyed at the ghost for getting the visitors off-topic.

And that's a big reason you may be at a haunted site and not know it: unless there's a dedicated ghost tour, we generally don't like talking hauntings with guests. Some museum workers don't believe in them (rare at heritage sites, but it does happen), and even the ones who do often consider it an irritating distraction.

I mean, see it from our perspective. We've poured so much time and energy into researching this site, learning the tours, studying and working with the objects on display, fundraising, doing maintenance and cleaning, or any of a hundred and one other tasks. We all want to talk about the site, the people who inhabited it, the moment in time it represents, the world around it and how it relates to our current world, etc. And here comes someone who's watched one too many horror movies, ignoring all our hard work because they just want to know "IS IT HAUNTED?!?!?!"

Now, the person probably does not mean to come off that way. We are aware of this. Please do not be ashamed or feel bad for wondering about ghosts at a historical house museum; that's perfectly normal. As I said, a lot of us not only believe, but believe we've had encounters at work. It only takes a few bad apples, though- a few tourists who came solely as thrillseekers, or to mock the site simply because it's an old house -to make a museum worker jaded. We're not trying to make snap judgments or be snobs; we're just Tired. Even when I worked at a haunted site, I would tell visitors it wasn't just to keep the tour on track. And I will do it again the next time I'm in that situation, too.

If you want to talk ghosts on a house museum tour, here is my advice:

Wait until the end of the tour, catch the guide alone, and quietly ask your question. I can't guarantee you'll get an honest answer, even then- and some sites genuinely aren't haunted, so "no" is sometimes the truth. But I know I'd be much more likely to open up about a haunting if the person seems aware that asking during the tour would derail things.

If you have an experience, feel free to let the guide know- again, after the tour and quietly. Unless it's something really scary that you can't control your reaction to (understandable), or dangerous, or a bunch of other people notice it, too, please do not bring it to the attention of anyone outside your party. Yes, it is very interesting that you saw a curtain move on its own, but if you call it out I'll never get the tour back on-subject.

So there's a bit of a primer on the topic of ghosts in house museums. Hope it was helpful/interesting!