#the assignment was posted over 2 weeks ago

[handdrawnverathin]

ohhhhhh my god.

i think i almost just died.

i saved it but oh my god.

[newobsessionweekly]

Aftershock: Bradford's Barbie

Main Masterlist | The Rookie Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Tim Bradford x younger!reader

Fandom: The Rookie

Summary: You and Tim are not dating. But also aren't not dating. Until he pulls back, you shut down and every feeling comes crashing down on you both.

Angst to fluff

Warnings: description of gunshots maybe? not proofread yet

Words: -

It didn’t start with fireworks. Or candlelight. Or anything remotely poetic.

It started with a crash.

Not the earthquake kind, not this time. Just you—exhausted, makeup smudged, hair in a bun that had declared war hours ago—falling asleep on his couch after a late-night takeout run and a shared bottle of whiskey neither of you meant to finish.

You woke up tangled in his arms. The next morning, you told yourself it was a one-time thing.

It wasn’t.

Somehow, in between shifts and field assignments, takeout orders and inside jokes, it became a routine. Your body in his bed. His scent on your clothes. His lips on your skin, hot and heavy in the silence after dark. And, weirdly, you slept better at his place. He did too, not that he ever said it out loud.

You weren’t dating.

You weren’t not dating, either.

Tim called it “convenient.” You called it “friends with benefits.” Lucy called it “a catastrophe waiting to happen,” though she didn’t know the half of it.

Because somewhere between him calling you a menace and you calling him a fossil—somewhere between him brushing your hair off your face and you learning how he liked his coffee—you started catching feelings.

Like a dumbass.

And the worst part? You didn’t even mean to. It just… happened. The way feelings do. Quiet at first, like a hairline crack. Then spreading, splitting, splitting, splitting.

Until something inside you started to break.

You told him once.

Sort of.

A few weeks ago, lying in his bed with your cheek pressed to his chest, you’d murmured something dumb and sleepy like, “I think you like me, Bradford.”

He hadn’t laughed. He hadn’t kissed you either.

He’d just gone still.

“Don’t make this complicated,” he’d said finally, voice low. “It’s already risky. You’re… you’re too young. This thing is just for fun. Let’s not pretend it’s more than it is.”

And like a fool, you nodded.

You told yourself you could deal with it.

But here you are, two months later, being reckless all over again.

Because now, thanks to a shiny new contract between LAPD and your father’s construction firm, you’re officially partnered with none other than Timothy “Emotionally Constipated” Bradford.

You might’ve pulled a few strings. Okay, a lot of strings. But in your defense, it was the perfect setup: a project pairing cops with civil engineers to evaluate post-quake building damage. Everyone wins. Especially you.

Except you forgot one detail.

You’re still in love with him.

And he still thinks you’re a goddamn risk.

You’re halfway through assessing a condemned strip mall in East Hollywood when it all goes to hell.

The street’s quiet, a little too quiet, the kind of quiet that prickles under your skin. Tim’s beside you, hand on his vest, eyes scanning every window and alley like he’s waiting for something to jump.

You’re marking a crumbling doorway with bright red chalk when it happens.

A pop.

Then another.

Gunfire.

You drop instantly, instincts kicking in, but not before Tim grabs your shoulder and yanks you behind the rusted frame of a dumpster. His body covers yours, warm and solid, one arm braced against the metal and the other curled around your waist.

“Stay down,” he growls, eyes blazing.

Your heart is beating in your ears, faster than it should. Too fast. His breath is hot on your cheek. His chest rises and falls against your back, firm and steady, while yours feels like it might explode.

And all you can think is: this isn’t casual. This isn’t just “fun.”

This is him shielding you like he’d die for you.

When it’s over—when backup arrives, when the scene clears, when the world rights itself again—you’re sitting on the tailgate of an LAPD shop with an ice pack pressed to your knee and a very pissed-off Tim looming over you.

“You okay?” he asks. The words are tight. Controlled. But his hand won’t stop gripping your thigh.

“I’m good,” you reply lightly. “But damn, Bradford. You almost made me think you caught feelings.”

His jaw ticks. “Don’t.”

“What? Can’t a girl joke around with her—what are we again? Bed buddies?”

He doesn’t answer. Just steps back like your words physically burned him.

You wait for him to say something—anything. But all you get is silence. His walls are up again. Brick by goddamn brick.

You nod, lips tightening.

“Got it.”

You stop texting him after that.

No goodnight emojis. No sarcastic memes. No more midnight rides to each other’s places. You pull out. Clean cut. No drama.

You tell yourself it’s the right thing. The smart thing.

You also start sleeping like crap again.

You expect him to call.

He doesn’t.

You expect him to knock on your door like he always does when things go sideways. Show up with a six-pack and that dumb grumpy look he pretends isn’t fond.

He doesn’t.

Instead, silence.

You last three days before deleting his name from your favorites. Five days before you fold the hoodie he left behind and tuck it in a drawer. Nine before you hear through one of the engineers that he requested a reassignment. A new partner.

The hurt isn’t new.

You just didn’t expect it to land like this. Like a slow tear in your chest every time you turn a corner expecting to see him, but don’t.

Tim is worse.

He doesn’t talk about it. Not to Lucy. Not to Thorsen. Not to Lopez. He just… broods.

He snaps faster. His fuse is shorter. He works more shifts, runs more drills, volunteers for the worst hours.

Lucy notices.

Of course she notices.

“You’ve been insufferable lately,” she says one day while they’re stuck in the locker room post-shift, both drenched in sweat and sun. “Worse than usual.”

Tim grunts, slamming his locker shut harder than necessary. “Just tired.”

“Bullshit.”

He shoots her a look, but she doesn’t back off.

“Is this about her?” Lucy asks casually. Too casually.

Tim stiffens. “What?”

“The blonde. Barbie. Earthquake Barbie. Whatever nickname you gave her in your grumpy little brain.”

Tim says nothing. Just pulls his shirt over his head like the conversation’s over.

It isn’t.

Lucy leans against the row of lockers, arms crossed. “Look, I didn’t want to get involved, but you’re spiraling. And when Tim Bradford spirals, people start punching walls and doing push-ups until their triceps cry for help.”

Tim’s voice is low. “She’s fine.”

“She’s not talking to you.”

“She doesn’t have to.”

Lucy raises an eyebrow. “So you were hooking up.”

He doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t even flinch.

Lucy whistles. “Damn. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Tim exhales slowly, resting his forehead against the cool metal. “It wasn’t supposed to be anything.”

“But?”

He hesitates.

Lucy watches him carefully. “But?”

“I don’t know,” he says finally. “She got under my skin.”

Lucy nods. “Yeah. That tends to happen when you’re in love.”

Tim turns to her, eyes flinty. “It wasn’t love.”

“Sure.”

“She’s almost twenty years younger than me.”

“And?”

“She’s reckless. She pulled strings to partner with me.”

“She also stood her ground during a live gunfire incident and patched your hand when you busted your knuckles punching a brick wall.”

Tim doesn’t respond.

Lucy softens. “Look. I don’t know what happened between you two. But I’ve known you long enough to know when someone’s got you twisted in knots. Go to her. Fix it.”

It takes him until midnight.

You’re not surprised when he knocks.

You hear the heavy sound of his boots on the hallway first—then the pause, then the knock. He doesn’t knock like a neighbor. He knocks like someone who built you into his routine and doesn’t know how to function without it.

But you don’t answer.

You sit cross-legged on the couch, hoodie pulled over your knees, and sip from a lukewarm mug of tea you don’t even like.

You hear the second knock. Then his sigh. Then silence.

“I know you’re there,” he says through the door, voice low and rough. “You’re loud in heels. But I swear—you’re louder barefoot.”

Your heart stutters.

You stay quiet.

He exhales, palm pressing to the door.

“I didn’t mean to push you away.”

You roll your eyes. “You didn’t push me away, Bradford. You made it very clear where I stand. Or don’t stand.”

He laughs, but it’s bitter. “Yeah. I’m a dumbass.”

You don’t deny it.

Tim leans closer. “I just… I didn’t want to ruin what we had. And I thought keeping it casual would keep it safe.”

You raise an eyebrow even though he can’t see it. “Casual? You kissed my shoulder when you thought I was asleep. You stocked your fridge with my favorite iced coffee.”

Silence.

“Casual my ass,” you mutter.

You still don’t open the door. You hear his exhale through the wood.

“I didn’t mean that,” he says, quieter this time. “You know I didn’t.”

You hate that his voice still does that to you. That low rumble laced with something vulnerable. Something only you ever get from him—when no one’s watching. Not Lucy. Not his team. Not his goddamn conscience.

“You said I wasn’t worth the risk,” you remind him, because he needs to hear it. Needs to sit with the way it burned through you like acid.

A pause.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how did you mean it?”

Silence.

You wait. The kind of silence where seconds stretch until they feel like bruises. He doesn’t answer, and that tells you enough.

You move to the door, pressing your back against it, still not ready to open it. “Go home, Tim.”

“I am home,” he says softly, and fuck. Fuck him for saying that.

The ache spreads. It’s not even anger anymore. It’s that thing you hate admitting even to yourself. Longing.

You press your palms to your eyes. “You don’t get to say that.”

Another pause.

“Okay. Fine. You won’t talk to me?”

You don’t answer. You don’t have to.

He must hear the way your breath hitches through the door, because his next words come sharp.

“Then I’ll make you talk.”

The knock stops. The silence twists.

Then the click of the door handle turning, slow—because you forgot to lock it. You never lock it when you expect him.

The door opens, and there he is.

Post-shift, tired eyes, hand still on the doorknob like he’s giving you one last second to throw him out.

You don’t.

He steps in and shuts the door behind him.

You’re still in your hoodie, hair up in that messy knot he always said made you look like you “tried not to look hot,” and failed.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Just drinks you in. Quiet, serious, unreadable. Then, in three strides, he’s in front of you, his hand tilting your chin up.

“I fucked up.”

You blink. “You think?”

He doesn’t smile. He just leans in—closer than he’s let himself in weeks.

“Say something.”

You don’t. You won’t.

So he does what Tim Bradford always does when he’s cornered by emotion—

He acts.

His lips crash into yours before you can say another word. It’s not soft. It’s not gentle. It’s desperate. Like he’s trying to apologize with every breath he pulls from you.

Your hands fist in his shirt before your brain catches up. Before your heart can argue. Because you’ve missed this. Him. The heat. The feel of his body like a shield and a furnace all at once.

He pulls back just far enough to murmur, “You’re mine.”

You open your mouth—maybe to argue, maybe to fall apart—but he kisses you again before the words come.

“Say it,” he breathes against your skin, kissing down your jaw. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you whisper, dazed, breathless, undone. “And you’re mine as well.”

His hands tighten around your waist, like he’s trying to ground himself to the words. Like you’ve said something dangerous, holy.

“I’ve been yours,” he says hoarsely, “since the moment I met you, Barbie doll.”

Your knees nearly give out.

He lifts you—effortlessly—and carries you to the couch, laying you down like you’re something fragile and irreplaceable.

This isn’t just sex anymore.

This is everything that’s been building. All the friction, the denial, the tension that snapped the moment he let himself feel.

The hoodie is the first thing to go. His hands slow, reverent. Like he’s memorizing the shape of you.

He kisses your chest, your neck, your mouth again. “I don’t care about the age gap,” he murmurs. “Or the job. Or the risk. I care about you.”

You close your eyes and arch into him. He’s not just making love to you. He’s choosing you. Out loud. Without hesitation.

And the best part is—you’re finally choosing him back.

The next morning, sunlight filters through the blinds, casting a warm glow over the room. You stir, feeling the steady rhythm of Tim’s heartbeat beneath your cheek.

“Morning,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.

You look up at him, a smile tugging at your lips. “Morning.”

He brushes a strand of hair from your face. “So, does this mean we’re official or something?”

You chuckle. “I think last night made that pretty clear.”

He grins, pulling you closer. “Good. Because I don’t plan on letting you go.”

You nestle into his embrace, feeling a sense of contentment you hadn’t known you were missing.

And in that moment, everything feels right.

[radioroxx]

ISAT SECRET SANTA !!

hihihi!! some of you may remember the interest check poll i made a few weeks ago. now that were getting closer to the holidays, its time to finally put this out.

(i encourage you to read through everything before signing up!)

what is secret santa? how does it work?

to summarize… each participant will receive the name of another participant, and be tasked with creating a gift for them. the catch is that the gift, and who its for, is intended to be a secret until the gift is given.

for this event specifically, i will be hosting it through a discord server to give me easier access / communication with all participants.

important dates

NOV 20 -> sign ups are closed! no more participants past this date will be allowed in

NOV 21 - NOV 22 -> gifts and participants will be distributed

NOV 23 -> buffer day. an extra day added for me to go through and make sure there werent any errors or changes needed to be made to the randomized assignments

DEC 15 -> progress check-in! (no actual progress required to be shown)

DEC 25 - JAN 1 -> posting week! gifts are revealed and given.

rules + extra notes

all gifts should be kept pg! be extremely mindful of what you include in your gift. additionally, sensitive topics / imagery should be limited to be safe

while i have no actual control over your actions, i encourage people not to spoil their gifts early. its more fun as a surprise!

ocs / aus are allowed to be worked with so long as there are ref sheets + enough information for your santa to work off of

joining the server is required for participation, to make things easier for me to work with.

should go without saying, but- the gifts you create are required to be your own original work. stolen or AI generated gifts are not permitted

have fun with your gifts!! there is no point if your are not having a good time :)

how to sign up?

TWO very important steps.

1. fill out the google form!!

make sure to fill in all required spaces!

2. join the server!

both steps are required for your to be added to the participant list! if i see youve completed one without the other (example- filled out the form, but havent joined the discord) i might reach out and poke you about it.

questions?

if you have any questions, you are free to ask me here!! or within the server itself, once youve signed up.

i! am very excited for this! hope you are too :)

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch. 3 returning the favor

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 3/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 4.5k

a/n. hope you enjoy! i really had fun incorporating a lot of the other characters in this one.

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

|| 9:21AM Gojo Satoru sent you a photo

|| 9:22AM Gojo Satoru: Here’s our practice schedule for the week. Honestly, it’s better if you come when we do practice games or something, since on other days we just do drills or strength training, but coach doesn’t really tell us what we’re doing beforehand so would probs have to play it by ear

|| 9:27AM Gojo Satoru: Oh yeah, we’ve got a big game in three weeks on the 28th. It’ll decide if we’re automatically seeded into the top 16 teams bracket, which is really crucial if we want to eventually bring home the championship. Not sure when your assignment is due, but that would be a good official game to come to 

|| 9:28AM Gojo Satoru: Let me know as soon as you can if you want to make that game. I’ll have to ask coach to get the referee sign-off for you to be on-field during play at least a week before

You look down at all the messages he was sending you during class on a Monday morning. After he sent you that house party details post from his fraternity’s Instagram page last week, their posts kept popping up in your feed and you saw one this morning with a bunch of the guys in the frat, Gojo included, shotgunning beers until 3AM last night. You marvel at how he’s somehow not hungover beyond repair and is texting you before noon. 

Pressing and holding on to his messages, you give him little thumbs up reactions and you decide on a heart reaction for the picture he sent you of the practice schedule. Then, you set your phone down and look at the video of the men’s soccer team highlights your professor was playing from the game a week and a half ago.

“Here, here, this right here. Midfielder #24 surveyed the field, spotting #13 making a run for it down the flank. Pinpoint pass to left winger, who starts steering through defenders, but loses the ball. Then, center forward #10 steals the ball back! He steals the ball, he fucking steals the fucking ball back!” Your professor was running back and forth in front of the projector screen, his finger following the movement of the soccer ball in the video. Your heart jumps a beat when Gojo shows up on screen, with his signature #10 jersey, and some people in the lecture hall stand up in excitement with the professor. “Beelines towards the goal, and BAM! Goalie stood no fucking chance, ball sent immaculately into the back of the net. Victory for UTokyo, 2-1, in the last seconds of the game!" Your professor cheers and jumps up and down. Some people cheer with him, others sigh, others are in awe, and some simply clap. 

Another entire lecture goes by where the professor spends absolutely no time going over film photography theory and instead just talks about how soccer used to be back in his day. You approach him after class, clutching your laptop case to your chest, and it’s only when you clear your throat in front of him that he finally looks up at you from the podium. 

“Oh, y/n, how can I help you?” He asks as he shoves his phone back in his pocket.

“Hey, professor. Bit of a request, could I have like two extra days for my assignment? There’s this event that I really want to use for the subject matter but it’s the day before the deadline, and I would need some time to develop my photos,” you say in the politest tone you can muster up.

“Yeah, sure. Just get it in before the end of the deadline week,” he says nonchalantly. “Looking forward to seeing it. Good work on the last one, by the way.”

You give him a smile and a word of appreciation before turning on your heel and making it up the stairs to exit the lecture hall, pulling your phone out of your tote bag. 

|| 9:53AM You: i can make it on the 28th. please get that referee permission for me

You press your lips together as you press send, and then type a bit more.

|| 9:54AM You: and thanks a lot

Your stomach is suddenly growling and you’re about to head over to the student hub when your phone starts ringing. You look down at the contact name that says Nobara and pick up.

“Hey, Nobie, what’s up,” you say as you make your way towards the heart of campus, enjoying the light breeze as the sun peeked through the clouds. 

“Where are you? Didn’t we have a Film Club meeting today?” She asks you, her tone a bit impatient. “We were supposed to discuss that collaboration with the school newsletter.”

Shoot. You forgot. These days, you were a bit too distracted by recent happenings, like Mina practically falling head-over-heels for a guy that was quite possibly the opposite of her type, the towering amount of class assignments that never seemed to end, and this whole arrangement you were trying to coordinate with Gojo Satoru. The Film Club meeting totally slipped your mind. You were supposed to head out of class a bit early to make it on time. “I’m so sorry, Nobara. I totally forgot about it. I’m unfortunately all the way on the other end of campus right now. I typed up some notes in the document, can you just run those by them? If we need anything else, I’ll reach out to them by email.” 

She sighs on the other end of the line. “Yeah. I’m not good at these conversations, but I guess as President I should be better at them anyways. I’ll let you know how it goes.” And then she hangs up. 

Mentally happy that you were at least free of one other obligation today, you prepare to make your way to the dining hall when your phone vibrates again.

|| 10:01AM Gojo Satoru: Will do, and sure thing. By the way, you free right now? Coach is having us do a practice game, probably for around 2 hours

You squint your eyes at his message, considering the opportunity. You didn’t have any other classes left for the day and were just going to grab something to eat before heading home, but now you wonder if you should make it to this practice session. He did say that you have to be flexible since he doesn’t even know exactly what they’ll end up doing before practice, so you figured this might be your only chance this week to practice capturing shots of them as they play, since it seemed like they had Tuesday & Friday off based on Gojo’s schedule picture. Unfortunately, you only brought your digital camera with you today since your film camera was too heavy to carry around unless you knew you needed it, but you can still do a lot with digital that would help for the film camera shoot. You could make it work.

|| 10:05AM You: yeah, i’m free. i was just gonna grab something to eat first, and then i’ll head over to the field in maybe 15 min. but i’m not exactly sure how to get onto the field, or where the entrance is…

He adds a heart reaction to your message which startles you a little bit. An accident, maybe?

|| 10:06AM Gojo Satoru: Lol, just meet me at that weird art sculpture they put up last semester. The one that cost like all of our tuition money. I’ll walk you to the field

You let out a sigh, somewhat nervous that you'll be seeing him again soon. The last time you saw Gojo was when you left him standing unceremoniously at the kitchen island with a somewhat offending comment. Nonetheless, he didn’t necessarily seem angry at you. Quite the opposite, actually. He’s been way more helpful than you had ever anticipated. You started to feel like the effort you put into getting Mina to go to that house party was nothing compared to the effort he was putting in for you to ace this assignment. 

Stopping by your school’s mini grocery store, you pick up a sandwich plus some strawberry vanilla soda, and take some bites as well as some sips as you leisurely make your way to the expensive art sculpture near the sports fields. As you get closer to it, you see Gojo from a distance talking to some people. A few of them were guys, a few of them girls, and he was laughing out loud at something one of the girls said. A part of you wonders what it’s like to be adored by so many people. 

When he spots you at the other side of the cross walk, he doesn’t break eye contact with you as he’s hurriedly saying goodbye to the group in front of him. Their heads turn to each other in confusion before turning their attention in your direction as he makes his way over to you.

“Hey,” he says as he lightly jogs up to the sidewalk you were standing on. You notice he’s wearing a black long sleeve undershirt with a short-sleeved blue one on top, along with some athletic black shorts and running shoes. When he brushes some of his hair away from where it had fallen near his eyes, your heart skips a beat at his handsome expression. A smile graces his face. “You ready?”

You nod, swallowing the mouthful of sandwich you didn’t realize you had stopped chewing, and follow his lead as the two of you cut across behind the batting cages of the school’s softball training area. Your eyes fell to Gojo’s back as he walked on the pavement. His shoulders were broad, shoulder blades pulling the upper half of the fabric of his clothing somewhat taut across as the rest of it freely flowed down to his lean lower back. The long sleeved shirt he wore underneath was pretty loose-fitting, but you could still see the thickness of his muscles. With every step that he took, his calves flexed in a way that made you realize he must really work out.

“What are you eating?” He says as he turns around to face you, walking backwards for a few paces as he looks at your hands.

“Oh, just a veggie sandwich,” you answer as you hold it up next to your face. “Campus delicacy.”

His smile widens. “And what are you drinking?” This time he asks with a bit more curiosity.

“It's strawberry vanilla soda,” you say as you juggle all of the things you were holding in your arms. 

“Can I have some?” He asks with a somewhat innocent tone. “The soda, I mean. I’ve never had that flavor.” 

You hesitate, but alas you were a people-pleaser. “Sure.” 

He halts his movements and so you do too, and he closes the gap between you two in one exaggerated stride. His hand gently pulls the soda bottle out from where it was tucked into your elbow to keep it from falling. You notice the veins on his hand get more defined as he squeezes & twists to release the cap and it sends something akin to a wave of arousal through your body, entirely startling you. But when he brings the bottle up to his lips with his head tipping backwards, drinking directly from it, neck bobbing as he swallows and a single drop trickles down the expanse of his jawline, the arousal directly hits you at your core. 

“Hm,” he licks his lips. “That’s pretty good.” 

You’re standing there in shock, your grip on your sandwich causing dents in the bread. He dabs the stray droplet of liquid at his chin with the back of his hand and turns around to keep walking ahead, making his way up the stairs onto what looks like a grassy field. It takes you a second to start moving too, and by then you need to do a light jog just to catch up to him. 

There’s a comfortable silence that develops between the two of you and when you glance at Gojo, you notice his eyes are closed and there’s a serene smile on his face, a gust of wind pushing the hair up out of his forehead and sending the blades of grass dancing across the hilly field. You smile too at the sensation of cool wind on your skin. It was a beautiful day outside with sparkling sunshine and quiet whistling wind.

“Can I ask you something?” You say after contemplating if you should interrupt his somewhat meditative state. 

“You can ask me anything,” he easily replies. 

“Why are you so willing to help me out with my assignment?” 

He turns his head to look at you with a neutral expression. “Because you did me a favor.” 

You sigh. “I know…but it really wasn’t that hard to convince Mina to go to that party. I feel like you’re helping me out way more than I helped you out.” A small ladybug lands on the fabric of your jeans and you marvel at it before it flutters its wings and flies away.

He’s silent for a second. “Honestly, when you agreed to help me out with Todo’s little crush, which by the way I had to do because I lost a bet, and you mentioned something about terms and conditions in your message,” he starts to say, a brief pause making its way between the sentence as if he was actively trying to relive that first night he was texting you, “I thought you were going to ask for something sexual in return.” 

Your mouth drops at his line of thinking, suddenly mortified. That’s how your message came across to him? Oh my God, you had to rethink how you texted everyone in your life from now on.

“I mean, weren’t you being a little flirty? ‘My terms and conditions will come later’. Or do I just have some weird sexual brain rot?” His eyes are still on you, his tone way too casual in your opinion for this sudden topic of conversation. You also realize that he thinks having sex with him would be returning you the favor. And then you try not to think about how good he probably is in bed. 

When you can’t think of what to say and just stare at him with wide eyes, he smiles and stretches his arms out in front of him as another gust of wind passes by. “Well, anyways, when you shared what you actually wanted from me and it ended up being a pretty earnest request…let’s just say I was emotionally moved by your dreams and aspirations.” He says that last part somewhat dramatically and you roll your eyes, sending him an annoyed look. “A little disappointed, but nonetheless moved.” 

“Wow, you’re the type of person that would trade favors for sex?” you ask him with a sneer to your tone. 

He sends a lazy smirk to you over his shoulder to where you’re trailing behind him now. “Not really, no, can’t say I’ve ever done it before,” he says slyly, “probably would’ve made an exception for you, though.” And then he’s giving you a wink.

You can’t help but blush a little. He was definitely just teasing you, some hobby of his that he does just to constantly get a kick out of the people around him since he knows he just has that much of an effect on them, so you try not to let his words get past your skin to the more vulnerable parts of you. He’s reading your expression before he speaks up again.

“We’ve already started this little return favor of yours, so no take-backs. It’s an eye for an eye. Not an eye for an eye and throw some casual sex in there, too.” He makes his way up what seems to be the largest hill across the field and he stops at the top, peering out at whatever was across from it. When you made your way to the top too, your eyes widened as you saw an expanse of flat grassiness covered in orange cones, green land markers, white chalk outlines, and netted goals. Oh, and a lot of men. “Alright, you freaky little photographer. Here are your muses.” 

You let out the breath you were holding in and smiled, hands immediately reaching for your digital camera case within your tote bag. A wave of creativity and inspiration hit you as you were finally able to lay your eyes on your subject matter and setting, and you couldn’t wait to get started. 

Gojo makes his way down the hill and you stumble after him. He high-fives a couple of his teammates that were leaving the first wave of practice and makes his way over where the second-wave practice players were stretching on the field and running laps.

“C’mon, Itadori, I’ve seen snails with a more urgent sense of direction than you! Pick up those goddamn knees!” You hear a loud voice from a few feet away from you and flinch, eyeing the scary looking man that had a…Pomeranian dog in his arms? He was wearing a black athletic jumpsuit and had extremely tinted, thick sunglasses on. His facial hair was a bit jarring and you immediately decided you were scared of him, despite how gently he was petting the little dog cradled in his arms. 

“That’s coach Yaga,” Gojo says beside you with a smile on his face and his hands on his hips. “Real nice guy.”

You turn to give him a suspicious look and he just returns it with a wider smile. 

“Hey! It’s y/n,” you hear a somewhat familiar voice call out and you glance at the direction it came from. You see Geto standing next to Nanami and he whacks his hand against the blonde's chest to get his attention when he makes eye contact with you before jogging over. You see Gojo put his hands in his shorts pockets in your periphery. “What are you doing here?” 

You give him a shy smile, suddenly embarrassed by the attention. “Here to take some photos.”

“Are you with the school newsletter?” Nanami’s smooth voice says as he approaches Geto, standing next to him. They both were wearing matching blue tracksuits. 

“No, I’m not. Just here to…take some photos for one of my classes. It’s for a film photography assignment.” You suddenly wished you were part of the school newsletter committee, so that you could at least provide them with some positive publicity with your photos. You wondered if they would think you’re just using them. As if Gojo could read your mind, he patted Geto harshly on the back and let out a loud, obnoxious laugh.

“Hear that, punks? She wants to try and take some nice photos of you lot. Be grateful! Of course, your grotesque appearances cannot simply be fixed by any technology yet known to man,” Gojo says rather loudly, continuing to smack Geto on the back. Geto has a small pitiful smile on his face and Nanami just looks annoyed. You feel lighter somehow, less tense. 

“Okay, cool, let us know if we can help in any way,” Geto says kindly as he sits down on the grass to continue stretching out his legs. “Oh by the way, Satoru, Chosou’s out sick today so you might need to cover for goalie.” 

“What? Why’s that fucker always getting sick?” Gojo says as he walks towards one of the duffle bags on the bench, and you assume it’s his. He pulls out a water bottle. “He needs to stop eating that goddamn grocery store sushi.” 

“Oh! Oh! It’s you,” another somewhat familiar voice calls out from ahead. You see a guy wearing a dark blue jacket that had a red hood approaching you from the inner field. Then you recognize he was that guy at the entrance of the house party that called you a- “It’s casual tomboy!” 

Your eye twitches slightly as you take in your appearance. Sure, you were wearing jeans again, but your top was somewhat stylish and feminine. He arrives in front of you and notices the digital camera hung at your neck. “Hey, what’s that?” He points directly at your midriff where the camera sat. He almost pokes his finger right through the delicate attachable lens that cost you nearly two months of rent.

“A little rude, Yuuji,” Geto says, grunting as he switches from one stretch to the other. 

Yuuji gets closer to you to study the camera and you instinctively lean away from him before Gojo is grabbing him by the hood of his jacket and yanking him away from you, Yuuji’s arms flailing out in front of himself in a struggle. “Hey, get back to practice. You’re not allowed to talk to pretty seniors.” 

Coach Yaga grunts and crosses his arms from where he stood a few feet away, the tiny pomeranian now barking at his feet. “I never said you could stop running laps, Itadori! Get your ass back out there! I’ll be sending you to recreational soccer for the rest of your freshman year if you don’t get your damn head straight!” Gojo lets go of Itadori’s hood and the poor boy is scrambling across the field to join what seems like the other first-years for their warm-up laps. Coach Yaga turns to you and gives a hmph before vaguely gesturing to you. “May I know what you’re doing out on my field?”

“Coach!” Gojo says, making his way over to the scary man. He slings his arm around his neck and the man just continues to glare at him through his sunglasses. “She’s with me today. Photographer y/n will be taking some handsome photographs of you that you can send to your wife, and then maybe your wife will actually want to-”

Coach Yaga puts Gojo in a headlock and Gojo’s instantly tapping on his back to get him to ease up. “I dare you to finish that sentence, boy.”

You let out a small laugh. This was certainly a lively bunch. Nanami approaches you and expresses interest in your camera. You lift it up for him to take a closer look. He pinches his chin between his bent index finger and thumb, as if he was a detective analyzing a crime scene. “I see…so this is a film camera.” 

“Ah…” you laugh awkwardly. “No, this is just a digital camera.” 

“I see…so this is a digital camera,” he repeats, equally as intrigued. 

The time eventually comes along where all the players start the practice match. There’s obviously not enough players out on the field for full teams on each side, but they’re split into 1st & 4th years vs. 2nd & 3rd years. You learn that the second wave practice group has the talented players at the top of each of their year groups. Gojo doesn’t seem to participate in the practice match despite one team having to omit having a goalie since the coach requested he sit out to watch the plays and make suggestions.  You’re a bit sad you don’t get to see him play, but figured you’ll have a chance in the future. You take a few snapshots as one of the other first-years, a quiet boy named Megumi, kicks the ball towards the goal that ends up bouncing off the goal frame. You spend some time tweaking the exposure, zoom, and focus until you feel like you have a pretty good idea of the settings you’ll need to get some fluid shots. 

When you look up over the field again, raising your digital camera to your face, you notice Gojo looking at you from across the field where he stood at the sidelines. You both keep your gaze on one another for a couple of seconds, and you boldly lift the camera up to your eye, taking a few snapshots of him. When you pull it away, look down at the results on the small screen, and then glance back up at him, his eyes are slightly wide. Something stirs within you when you remember his words from earlier: I thought you were going to ask for something sexual.

Your mind wanders back to the party from last weekend, and the feeling of him leaning down next to your ear in the kitchen as he said “Thanks, I owe you one. Find me later, ‘kay?” The memory itself made your cheeks feel warm. Did he…think that something was going to happen that night at the party? Probably would’ve made an exception for you…Disappointed, but nonetheless moved. Somewhere in the haziness of your thoughts, you realize that meant that Gojo would’ve wanted to sleep with you if that was indeed your condition.

When you look to the other side of the field again, Gojo’s eyes are still on you but his handsome face looks a bit troubled, eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly pursed. You couldn’t really tell what he was thinking, but for some reason you felt like he could tell what you were. When you raised an eyebrow at him, his face relaxed and he slowly shook his head as if to say it's nothing. 

Coach Yaga’s sharp whistle cuts through the silent conversation you two were having as he yells, “alright, boys. Practice over! Go stretch yourselves out.” 

You quickly stuff your digital camera back into its case and collect your things into your tote bag. In your peripheral vision, Gojo’s making his way over to you and when he’s right next to you, you can’t bring yourself to look at him.

“How’d it go? Get some good shots?” he asks, sounding genuinely interested.

“Um, yeah, I think so.” You’re still not looking at him, pretending to fiddle with something in your tote bag. He leans down a bit to look at your face more clearly when he notices you’re not meeting his gaze, but you still struggle to make eye contact with him. “I’ve gotta go, can you tell the guys I said bye?” And then you’re making your way up the hill.

There’s a beat of silence as confusion washes over him from your behavior. “Hey, wait, y/n, do you know how to get back to campus?”

You spin to face him when you're at the top of the hill, finally looking him in the eye. There’s a concerned expression on his face. “Yes, I’ll be fine. Thanks a lot for today. Let me buy you a strawberry vanilla soda sometime, okay?” Flashing him a small smile, you turn around and run down the hill, ignoring the fast beating of your heart.

a/n. thanks a bunch for reading!

➸ take me to chapter four!

[shadesofhogwarts]

Ghost Hunter!Marauders x New Recruit Reader (pt.1)

You’re trapped in a haunted hospital with Sirius. The lights go out. Something’s whispering your name.

Wordcount: 3.5k

pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4...

You arrive ten minutes early. Because you're responsible, or nervous, or both. Probably both.

The building is nothing like what you expected. You imagined sleek, high-tech headquarters, maybe a hidden underground bunker with glowing maps and steel hallways. Instead, you’re staring at a rickety, two-story Victorian house with peeling paint, lopsided windows, and a brass plaque on the gate that reads:

The Department of Paranormal Affairs, Subdivision 7: Spirit Intervention Unit

Underneath, someone’s scratched in:

Graveyard Shift

You shift on your feet, clutching your file folder tighter. The wind bites even though it’s early September, and you swear the shadows near the porch steps moved a second ago.

Just as you're about to turn and bolt, the door swings open.

"You lost or just brooding?"

You look up. The man in the doorway has messy dark hair, a crooked grin, and a bomber jacket half-zipped over a threadbare t-shirt. He squints at you like he’s debating whether you’re a threat or just an inconvenience.

"Uh," you stammer, "I– I'm the new recruit. I was told to report here?"

He gives you a once-over, slow and deliberate. Then steps aside, muttering, “Well, shit. Good luck.”

You step inside, the door creaking behind you. The air smells like old wood, coffee, and something faintly metallic. You're halfway through admiring the chaotic, book-filled front room when a voice calls out:

"Sirius, don’t scare the rookies on day one."

Another man enters from a side hallway, looking more put-together: button-up shirt rolled at the sleeves, glasses perched on his nose, clipboard in hand.

Sirius shrugs. “Wasn’t scaring her. Just warning.”

“You must be Y/N,” the new guy says, offering a handshake. His grip is warm, firm. “James Potter. Welcome to Subdivision Seven.”

"Nice to meet you," you say, glancing around. "I thought there’d be more... people."

"Oh, there are," James says, “They all quit.”

You blink, unsure if he’s serious.

"Kidding," Sirius mutters from behind you. “Mostly.”

Before you can process that, yet another person enters the room. He moves quieter than the others, a stack of files tucked under one arm and a coffee mug balanced precariously on top. His eyes flick up to you briefly, then back down.

“That’s Remus,” James says. “He does the real work.”

"Hi," you offer.

"Hello," Remus says, not looking up.

“And that’s the team,” James says cheerfully. “Come on, let’s show you around.”

You follow James through a maze of mismatched halls, Sirius trailing behind like a shadow that whistles. The building feels bigger on the inside– like every door opens into a place it shouldn’t. You pass a stairwell that seems to lead nowhere, a flickering overhead light that hasn’t stopped buzzing since 1973 (according to a scrawled Post-it), and a portrait of a woman who definitely turns her head to follow you. James is talking, explaining protocols– check-ins, assignments, the “don’t touch anything unless you want to die” rule– but your brain only half-processes his words. The place has a pulse. You swear you can feel it– humming faintly beneath the floorboards, brushing against your ankles like fog.

Eventually, you’re led into what might’ve once been a sunroom, now converted into a sort of headquarters-slash-lounge-slash-evidence-dumping-zone. There’s a corkboard sagging under the weight of red string and ghost photos. A worn couch. A whiteboard with “FIELD INCIDENTS” scrawled at the top, underneath which someone’s drawn a crude sketch of Sirius being slapped by a ghost with a frying pan.

Remus is already there, perched on the arm of the sofa with his files in his lap, flipping through one as he sips coffee. He glances up as you enter, his gaze sharper this time. Measured. “So what’s her assignment?”

James drops the clipboard on the table. “Training week starts tomorrow, but she’s coming on recon tonight. Just observation.”

Remus raises a brow. “Tonight?”

“Emergency call from Midwick Hospital,” Sirius answers, dropping onto the couch like he owns it. He throws an arm over the back, stretches his legs out, and grins at you like he knows something you don’t. “Lovely little place. Shut down in ’93 after a fire broke out. Spirits have been flaring up all week. Someone’s gotta babysit the ghosts.”

“You’re bringing her to Midwick?” Remus asks, tone flat.

“She won’t even leave the van,” James says. “We just do a sweep, collect readings, go home. Easy.”

“And if it’s not easy?” Remus shoots back.

James shrugs. “Then we improvise.”

By the time the sun dips below the horizon, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of a rusting black van labeled 'Pest Control', with duct tape over the 'P.' Sirius is driving, naturally. He plays loud music the whole way there– something fast, something grungy– and sings along like you’re not gripping your seatbelt for dear life.

Midwick rises from the darkness like something out of a fever dream– an old red-brick hospital swallowed by trees, its windows hollowed out like sockets. The fence is chained, but Sirius cuts it with bolt cutters and a grin. James handles the equipment. Remus clips a flashlight to his coat and murmurs something under his breath that sounds like Latin. You trail behind them, heart pounding louder than your footsteps.

Inside, the hospital is cold. Not just chilly– wrong. Like the air is thick with things unsaid. The walls are peeling, papered with mildew and graffiti. Old beds lie upturned in corners, and your flashlight flickers twice before stabilizing.

They start their sweep. You stay close. You’re supposed to observe, but something keeps pulling at your attention– like the way the shadows seem to move just a second too late.

An hour in, James gets a call and steps outside to take it, promising he’ll be right back. Remus continues checking the wards, moving with careful precision. You’re in an old surgical room when Sirius wanders off down a hallway lined with broken light panels. You hesitate for a moment before following.

“Sirius?” you call.

“Back here,” comes his voice, echoing oddly. You round a corner and find him standing by a rusted elevator, flashlight aimed at the crack between its doors.

“You okay?”

He glances over his shoulder, smirking. “Why? Worried about me already?”

Before you can reply, the lights go out.

Not a flicker– die.

The silence is instant, suffocating. You freeze. Your flashlight won’t turn on. Neither will Sirius’s. The corridor is thick with darkness, so dense you can’t see your own hand.

Then–

whisper.

Your name.

Soft. Dragged out. Like breath over glass.

You go still. The air shifts around you, and Sirius is suddenly closer, his hand brushing yours in the dark.

“You heard that too,” he mutters, low. Not teasing now. Not even a little.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “What is it?”

His fingers wrap around your wrist, firm and steady. “Don’t panic.”

“Too late,” you whisper.

There’s a clatter behind you– metal on tile. You spin, but there’s nothing. Only more dark. More whispering.

Sirius shifts closer until his arm is nearly around you. “Stay with me, rookie,” he murmurs. “And whatever happens– don’t answer when it says your name.”

“But why–”

“It’s not you it wants,” he says, voice barely audible now. “It’s whoever you used to be.”

You nod without realizing it, breath shallow, fingers curling into Sirius’s jacket as the shadows press closer. There’s a sound behind you again– closer this time. The slow squeak of rubber soles on tile. Someone walking. Someone who shouldn’t be. You’re frozen for a heartbeat, two, three– then Sirius moves, pulling you back with him until your spine hits the wall.

“Where’s Remus?” you whisper. “Where’s James?”

“Probably still outside,” he mutters. “Reception’s shit in here. Can’t call them.”

The footsteps stop. Just beyond the corridor turn. Whoever– or whatever– is there, it knows you know.

“Sirius,” you whisper, clutching his sleeve tighter. “I want to leave.”

“We will,” he says. “Just– stay calm, okay? This kind of thing, it feeds off nerves. If you lose it, it gains more ground.”

He sounds calm, but you can feel the tension in him– how tightly wound he is, how his breathing’s gone shallow like yours. The darkness shifts again, and this time it’s not just sound. Something brushes past your leg. Cold. Weightless.

Sirius shoves you behind him instinctively, stepping forward. “Not tonight,” he mutters to the dark. “You’ve had your fun.”

Silence.

Then, your name again. Sharper now. Close. It echoes off the walls, but you can feel it– in your ear, in your skull. It’s saying it like it knows you. Like it remembers.

“What is that?” you whisper.

"Residual attachment," Sirius says, his voice calm but laced with something darker. "Some spirits cling to names. Memory, emotion. You probably brushed up against something when you walked in. Looked at the wrong photo. Stood in the wrong spot."

“I didn’t do anything–”

“I know,” he replies, firm but reassuring. “Doesn’t matter. Sometimes they pick. Sometimes they choose you because you remind them of someone they’ve lost. Or someone they want to punish.”

You stare at him, unblinking. “And we’re just standing here?”

“No,” he says, with a hint of humor, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a small tin. He flicks it open. Salt. “We’re surviving.”

He pours a circle around your feet, movements practiced, murmuring something under his breath that doesn’t sound like Latin– older, rougher.

Then– something shifts. The air grows thick, a pressure swirling like a storm in the room. The darkness folds inward, as if bending to some unseen force. And then– ding. The elevator behind you.

Both of you freeze.

“No one called it,” you say, eyes wide.

“Yeah,” Sirius mutters, voice tight. “That’s kind of the point.”

The doors creak open with an unnerving groan, like metal scraping against metal. Inside, nothing. Just void. But you feel it. Something in there. Something ancient.

“I’m not going in there,” you whisper, the words barely leaving your throat.

“Good,” Sirius says, his grin wild. “Because I am.”

You grab his arm, panic clawing at your chest. “Are you crazy?”

“A little bit,” he says with a wink, shaking you off gently. “But it’s part of the job.”

He steps forward, flashlight in hand. The beam flickers– once, twice– then steadies. For a brief second, you see it. In the elevator mirror. Behind him.

A figure. A white dress. Hollow eyes.

Not Sirius.

You scream.

He spins around, but there's nothing there– just his reflection.

The scream shatters the silence. The whispers return, louder, mocking, circling around you. You stumble backward, tripping over something soft. Something that feels… wrong.

You look down. It's a patient chart. With your name. And a date of death.

Sirius is beside you in an instant, yanking the chart from your hands, tearing it in half without even reading. "Nope. Don’t do that. It’s lying."

“But it had my–”

"I told you," he interrupts, his voice low, “it’s not you it wants.”

The walls groan. The lights above flicker, then hold. In the brief flash of light, you see all the doors on the ward are open.

All of them.

And something is stepping out of each one.

Sirius grabs your hand. “Change of plan. We’re running.”

You run.

You sprint through the corridor, past the elevator, past the open doors, the shadows lurking beyond. You don’t look back. You just follow him, feet pounding against the cold tiles, heart a hammer in your chest.

You burst out through a side door and into the night air, collapsing in the gravel beside the van. Remus stands there, flashlight steady, calm as ever.

“Took your time,” he remarks.

“We had company,” Sirius gasps, leaning back against the van. He looks at you then, and for the first time tonight, his smile falters.

“You good?”

You nod, though your hands are still shaking.

Remus crouches beside you, his tone gentler than before. “First night’s always the hardest,” he says. “You survived. That’s what matters.”

James appears from behind the van, looking half concerned, half annoyed. “I leave for ten minutes–”

“Don’t,” Sirius warns, hauling himself upright. “Not the time.”

You stand slowly, legs unsteady. Your palms are scraped. Your heart is still racing.

Sirius watches you, expression unreadable. Then, quieter than before, he says, “Next time, stay closer. I almost lost you in there.”

You blink at him. “There’s going to be a next time?”

He grins– wild, reckless, real. “Oh, yeah,” he says. “Welcome to the Graveyard Shift.”

…

You barely sleep that night.

Curled on the threadbare mattress in the guest room, you try to drown out the whispers with the pillow around your ears. It doesn’t help. The voice comes again. Soft. Familiar. Your own.

You can’t escape it.

Around three a.m., you give up. You pad barefoot down the creaky hallway, your steps slow and hesitant. The dim light beneath the door of the common room flickers. You knock once, too tired to care about interrupting.

“Come in,” comes the voice.

Sirius.

You open the door.

He’s sprawled across the couch, long legs draped over the coffee table, a book open on his chest, mug in hand. His hair is a mess, his eyes heavy, like he hasn’t slept either. The fire in the hearth is low, casting a soft warmth across the room.

When he sees you, something shifts in his face– not alarm, not annoyance– just concern, subtle and fleeting.

“You look like hell,” he says.

“I feel like hell.”

You shut the door behind you and cross the room, sinking into the other side of the couch. He doesn’t say anything, just nudges the blanket toward you and sets his mug down.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks, voice soft.

You shake your head. “It kept whispering.”

“The ghost?”

“My own voice.”

Sirius goes still for a moment. When he speaks again, his voice is softer, more serious. “That happens. Sometimes. When a spirit tries to root itself.”

“Root itself?”

“They latch on. Try to dig in deep. Names are powerful. If it keeps saying yours, it’s not random.”

You pull the blanket tighter around you. “What does that mean?”

“It means…” He rubs his face, pausing. “It means we need to look into it.”

Silence settles between you. The crackling fire is the only sound for a moment. Then Sirius shifts slightly, turning toward you. “Hey.”

You look up.

“You did good today.”

Your laugh is bitter. “I screamed. I tripped. I panicked. I almost got you killed.”

He snorts. “Please. You think I haven’t had worse nights? You didn’t bolt. You didn’t break. You stayed with me.”

You look down at your hands, suddenly uncertain. “I felt like I was breaking.”

“Yeah. That’s the job sometimes.”

There’s something different in his voice now. No teasing. No bravado. It hits you before you can stop it.

“I thought I was going to die in there.”

He doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t brush it off.

“I know,” he says, his voice quiet. “That’s why I stayed close.”

You look up, surprised. “You didn’t have to.”

He shrugs, but there’s a weight to it now. “I wanted do.”

The room feels different now– heavy in the best way.

The room hums with quiet for a beat too long. Then he shifts again, grabs something off the table and hands it to you. A dog-eared folder, thick with papers.

“What’s this?” you ask, confused.

“Hospital records. That wing you got stuck in? the fire from '93 broke out inside there. No survivors. But some of the names on these records? They’re still showing up. Even though they died decades ago.”

Your brow furrows. “Why are they still here?”

“Unfinished business. Curses. Or maybe,” he says, eyes meeting yours, “they were never meant to leave.”

You shiver.

Without a word, he pulls off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders.

“I’m fine,” you protest.

“Shut up,” he mutters, his voice softer than usual. “You’re freezing.”

You let it happen.

An hour later, you fall asleep, curled into the couch with Sirius’s jacket wrapped around you, the file still clutched in your lap.

Sirius doesn’t move. He just watches the fire burn low, eyes darting over the shadows– just in case they start whispering again.

...

The silence when you wake is wrong. The fire’s gone out. Sirius is gone.

Then, you hear it again.

Your name. Soft, breathless.

“Y/N…”

You scramble out of bed, voice thin, desperate. “Sirius?” you call, but there’s no answer.

Just the whisper.

“Y/N…”

It’s coming from upstairs.

You hesitate. Heart pounding. You want to scream. You want to run. But Sirius wouldn’t have left you. Not unless he had a reason.

So you move. Step after step, up the crooked stairs, through the narrow hallway where the shadows feel too thick.

The voice coils down the hall like smoke. You follow it to the end, to the old linen closet. The door creaks open.

A hand grabs your wrist.

You freeze, your heart skipping a beat. But it’s Sirius, eyes wild, breath shallow.

“Don’t,” he whispers.

“What– what is it?”

“I don’t know, but it’s not human. It seems like it followed us from the hospital.”

You shudder, the fear settling deep in your bones.

He pulls you back, closer to the stairs. “Come on,” he says, voice tight with urgency. “We’re leaving.”

You’re about to ask him why, but then you hear it again.

That voice.

“Y/N…”

And now you know, without a doubt. It’s not human.

Your stomach lurches.

Sirius pulls you against the wall, his whisper urgent. “I woke up and you were gone. I heard it too– your voice. I followed it upstairs, saw you walking toward this door, but– Y/N, I swear to God– I also saw you standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching yourself go.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t you.”

The knob turns.

Sirius shoves you behind him, his posture defensive.

The door creaks open– slow, deliberate. At first, there’s nothing. Just the stench of rot. Dust. A hum that rattles in your ears.

Then something crawls out.

You can’t see it– just the blur of limbs, a smear of darkness that shifts like it’s submerged underwater. It moves forward, its voice distorted, echoing in your head.

“Y/N… come closer…”

Sirius fumbles in his pocket, pulling out a tiny silver charm. “Get behind me and don’t let go.”

You do, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt.

He mutters something under his breath, a Latin phrase that makes the air crackle with power. The charm flickers to life, glowing faintly– moonlight soaked in silver. The thing hisses, recoiling as if burned, but it doesn’t vanish.

Instead, it laughs.

It sounds just like you.

Sirius throws the charm– dead aim, straight into the thing’s chest.

The hallway erupts in blinding white light.

You hit the floor hard, your ears ringing. When you open your eyes, the air is different. Lighter. The thing is gone. The closet door is left ajar, empty.

Sirius crouches beside you, gripping your shoulder firmly. “You good?”

You nod, breath shaky. “What– what was that?”

He hesitates. “A mimic. Nasty spirit. Feeds on fear. Gets stronger every time you listen.”

You glance at the door. “Why was it in my voice?”

“Because you listened.”

You sit there for a long moment, heart still hammering in your chest. Then, barely above a whisper, you say, “Thanks for coming after me.”

Sirius gives you a crooked half-smile. “Always.”

Slowly, you rise, your legs still unsteady. He steadies you, his hand lingering on your arm.

“Come on,” he says, a touch of humor in his voice. “I think we’ve had enough paranormal bonding for one night.”

You manage a weak laugh.

The two of you make your way downstairs. The lights are still out, the fire long cold, and the house groans with age, but–

You don’t feel alone anymore.

You don’t know what tomorrow will bring.

But tonight? You survived.

With Sirius Black by your side.

And he didn’t let go. Not once.

…

Back downstairs in the lounge, James hands you a steaming mug of tea. Sirius sprawls on the couch and, with a grin, declares you "not useless." Remus disappears upstairs with the case files.

You sit in stunned silence.

"So," James asks, leaning casually against the counter, "Still want to work here?"

You think of the flying books, the shrieking ghost, the way Sirius pulled you from danger without hesitation. You remember the way Remus had looked– furious– when he saw you bleeding from a simple paper cut.

You take a long sip of tea.

“Yeah,” you say. “I do.”

James grins widely. “You’ll fit right in.”

A/n) Buckle up y'all cause I have a whole series planned for ghost hunter!marauders x reader

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

Reluctant Partners (Part 1) | #LeviMonth2024 Two-Shot

✧ word count ➼ ~1.8k ✧ notes ➼ canonverse, captain!reader, rivals to lovers, my attempt to fit a slowburn trope into a single piece!!!!!, sfw in this part but following-up with nsfw tomorrow ✧ comments ➼ levi month entry for august 1! this got too long, so i'm splitting it into two parts and will post part 2 tomorrow! part 2 will be spicy, just a heads up 👀 ✧ join my levi month taglist here!

{{August 2 (Pre-Canon: First Time Part 2) }} Masterlist

Levi Ackerman was the worst person to partner up with. He was the best at what he did, which made it difficult to feel like you were contributing anything when you were paired up with him. While he never went out of his way to make you feel like shit, it certainly didn't help that he'd take the lead and charge headfirst into a hoard of Titans on his own without bothering to listen to your protests.

It had always been this way. You were originally a recruit that was on his squad, and he seemed to have been a particular dick to you from the start. He was tough and honest with all of his recruits, but you seemed to get underneath his skin regularly, and you couldn't quite figure out why. It seemed like he was trying everything he could to hold you at arm's length, which made working with him in life-or-death situations extremely difficult, especially after a particularly close call that you had run into in which he had to scoop your ass out of trouble last minute.

You had eventually got promoted to lead your own squad, but Levi's attitude towards you only got worse instead of better. That, in addition to the fact that you developed your own beef with Levi, led to the two of you being rivals ever since.

You recalled the horror on your face when you read the upcoming assignments, seeing that you were paired up with Levi on a two-week mission outside Wall Rose to scout for a new base. A part of you was tempted to storm into Erwin's office and try to figure out what was going on through your commander's head by pairing you together.

You found out about that mission nearly a month ago, and you had been dreading it every day since due to the fact that you'd be alone with him for two entire weeks. Not only was he insufferable, but you also had to deal with the odd and annoying heat that was building up within you whenever he was around.

It was more obvious as a recruit, but you had always assumed it was due to being nervous around Levi since he was well-known as Humanity's Strongest, and you were just a recruit that barely got started with the Survey Corps. After you got promoted, you assumed the heat was due to your anger and frustration from being around him and his aloof behavior.

However, you knew the reality deep down, even if you were reluctant to admit it on the surface. The two of you couldn't stand each other, but found yourselves reluctantly attracted to one another.

You weren't venturing too far from the Walls, so the Titan threat shouldn't have been anything the two of you couldn't handle, especially once the sun set. Your destination was a castle that the Survey Corps had previously used as a base before Wall Maria fell. Your goal was to secure it so that the rest of the group could head here to prepare for their next expedition into the forest.

The castle itself was a mess. It needed a few hours of dusting, but it at least still functioned as a base, with even some spare beds being available. By the time you were finally done making it at least somewhat habitable, the sun had already gone down.

The candlelight was dim, and the flames were dancing off the walls, but it provided you enough light to be able to see without attracting too much attention from the outside. You were in a high enough area that an ambush by the Titans would be hard to miss, even if you were dead asleep.

"You take the bed by the door. You'd be too obvious of a target."

You looked over your shoulder and saw Levi leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed, shooting him a scowl in retaliation for his comment.

"...relax," you said dismissively, knowing that his concern was regarding the not-so-slim possibility that you could get snatched by a Titan, or at least attract the attention of one. "The sun's gone down. They should be sedentary until morning."

You heard a quiet "tsk" come from underneath his breath, raising your eyebrow as he approached you.

"That's based on what we know from four-eyes," Levi noted. "With our luck, we'll be the ones to run into Titans that can suddenly move around in the night."

As annoying as it was, he did have a point. You barely knew anything about the Titans other than the few successful tests that Hange had been able to conduct on any that you were able to capture alive.

"Okay, well if you get grabbed, then we're even more fucked."

Levi was Humanity's Strongest, which meant that losing him would be a major blow to the Survey Corps, and the entirety of humanity as a result.

The part you didn't say aloud was that you'd also be devastated about losing him. He was a nuisance, but a part of you didn't want to imagine life without him, even if you were still just keeping each other at a distance.

"...quit arguing and just take the fucking bed by the door."

"Nah," you said, waving him off with a shrug. "I'd rather sleep further away from you."

"God dammit, _____, can you quit being difficult?" Levi growled, his deadpan expression briefly breaking into one of mild frustration. "I'm just trying to-"

You turned back towards him as you noticed him fall quiet. Levi wasn't one to get stumbled over his words, and certainly not around you—someone that he loved to constantly berate.

"Trying to what?" you asked, before quickly shaking your head to stop your train of thought. "That doesn't even matter, you are not my superior anymore."

"...that's not the point, dumbass."

You narrowed your eyes at him as you heard him quietly mutter the insult. "Then what is the point, asshole?"

Levi didn't respond, only averting his gaze, which only prompted you to obnoxiously step up to him to get in his space.

"Hello?" you beckoned to him, waving your hand in front of his face.

A small groan of annoyance escaped his throat as he swatted your hand away. "...I'm trying to protect you, dumbass."

His answer took you aback for a second, bringing up feelings of inadequacy that you hadn't felt since you had been a recruit, with his repeated insult only adding to your frustration and offense.

"Well...I don't need your protection-"

"I know."

Levi cut you off without giving you a chance to begin a tangent on why he was overreacting or being overly precautious.

"...just take the fucking bed."

~~~~~

You hadn't expected yourself to be able to sleep easily, given your environment, but you hadn't expected to have been stuck tossing and turning either. It was one thing if you just got into an argument with him—that was fairly normal these days. However, his comment about needing to protect you got under your skin and you quickly found yourself ruminating about it to no end.

Frustrated and unable to sleep, you made your way over towards the bed that he took near the window. You weren't sure what you were going to say, but you had to do something to try to prove that you weren't as incompetent as he seemed to think you were.

Levi immediately looked at you over his shoulder once he heard you stepping up. He wasn't sleeping as usual.

"...did you really come over here in the middle of the night to continue this argument? Go back to bed," he muttered dismissively. "You'll just get grouchy in the morning."

"...it's not that," you mumbled quietly.

"Then what?" he asked with a raised eyebrow and a tone of exasperation. "Spit it out."

You shuffled around awkwardly, trying to settle down your nerves. You felt yourself getting more and more upset throughout the night, but it felt much more intense now that you were actually confronting him about it.

"...I'm sorry if you still think I can't handle myself out here."

"...you're still hung up on that?" Levi responded quietly after a moment of silence.

He knew what you were referring to. You had screwed up as a recruit and nearly died out on the field. Levi had to come rescue you, and you had been training your ass off to try to prove to either him or yourself—perhaps both—that you were fit for the job despite that incident.

"For the record, I don't think you can't handle yourself," he noted, sitting up to face you, and noticing the small pout on your face as you looked off to the side. "Far from it. I just..."

The rest of his sentence trailed off. There were clearly things being left unsaid, and you were far too frustrated to just leave it at that.

"...you just what?"

You had expected him to come up with some bullshit excuse or dismiss this conversation altogether.

"I just don't want to see you hurt again, alright?"

His tone was laced with a subtle hint of frustration, as if he was forcing himself to acknowledge something that he pushed away for quite some time.

You blinked at him in confusion, slowly putting the pieces together, but still battling with your own feelings regarding him.

"...you mean too much to me to risk losing you to something as dumb as getting snatched out of the window by a Titan that managed to sneak up on us."

Your face was beginning to heat up at his words. It was only at this point that you remembered that he was briefly around you more when you had gotten injured, but almost immediately retreated once you had recovered. You had never really noticed it before, but he did tend to give you more attention when you were still a recruit and training under him when compared to the others.

It was blatantly obvious to anyone else that the tension between the two of you was more than just a rivalry or a passive dislike of one another. Levi had seemed to realize it the minute that you had gotten injured, withdrawing almost immediately after you were well enough to return to duty.

You didn't seem to realize it until right this moment.

By the time you looked up at him again, you saw that he was looking directly at you. The flames of the torch flickered gently in the reflection of his silvery eyes, and you felt like you were seeing him again for the first time, as someone other than who you had convinced yourself to be the bane of your existence.

#: @shayewrites @littlerequiem @ackerbootytobbi @humanitys-strongest-brat @mostlilo @dustbuniesworld @levisrations @ebechnasheim @moonchild-angel @jayteacups @bipolargatto

[thecapricunt1616]

Lily of the Valley - (c.b. oneshot)

𝓢𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓽 (𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓑𝓣𝓒): “Yes, what is all this baby?” You asked, motioning to the roses. “Did I forget somethin? Our anniversary isn’t for another 2 months” you asked a bit nervously. Carmen wasn’t a stickler for dates, but it would break your heart if you were to forget something important. “No- no. I just…just love you- I wanted to show you, and especially after this week I know I’ve been crazy busy, and I’ve been comin’ in late and leavin’ early, and…I just wanted to show my best girl how much she means t’me” he kissed your forehead sweetly and you felt a blush creeping to your cheeks. 

O/S INSPO:  Lily of the Valley Soothing, calming, draws peace and tranquility, and repels negativity. Assists in empowering happiness and mental powers. Married couples should plant Lily of the Valley in their first garden to promote longevity of the marriage.  POSTED DATE:03/30/2024 W/C: 4,114

A/N: FINALLY!!!! I am so sorry this took forever! This O/S is based on this adorable request from the LOML @daysofyellowroses - please check out her blog! I hope this satisfies your Carmy Proposing idea! I'm sorry it took so long i've been sick, but we’re back baby!!! Requests are opennnn y'all!

WARNINGS FOR BTC: Smut, Swearing, NO USE OF Y/N - As little physical description as possible, fluffy Carmen, OC Carmy - (He's more emotionally grown obvi hahah)

You pushed the heavy, bulging tote bags full of groceries up your arm as you walked back to Your&Carmy’s shared Condo Building. The wildflower seeds you’d thrown on the little patches of grass on your walks to the train, along the sidewalk on your block had finally started to bloom. Adorable tiny little flowers in vibrant shades of blue, pink, purple, yellow, and white peeking out over the sidewalk's edge. 

Spring had most definitely sprung in Chicago by this point. Your commute whilst walking to work down Michigan Ave, passing the stunning array of tulips, had told you that fiercely every time you walked to and from the train this week on the way to work. It was finally Friday, and you couldn’t be happier. 

Carmen had been so busy this week- busier than normal. You’d usually just hang out with your best friends to fill that pathetic, lonely void while grading papers and doing your own assignments- but they were busy this week too! You were convinced the universe had bound you to loneliness this week, so naturally, all you wanted to do was get home, crawl into bed, and sleep- until Carmy came in around 2 to 3 am, and get that savored 15 minutes of cuddles after his shower, before exhaustion came over you again and you fell back asleep. 

You used your special key fob to get in the door of your condo’s shared building, which to your standards was very luxurious- it included amenities you’d never even thought of. You and Carmy had moved in together 3 months ago, it took a lot of convincing on your end. You and Carmy had lived on opposite ends of town, so every time you’d see eachother, (which was very often) -  it would be an hour's drive that he insisted- or, him losing the battle- and allowing you to take the train back all those stops. 

You weren’t particularly religious,  it was more just a personal preference - that you would be at least engaged before you were to move in together. Especially before having a mortgage together. You’d told Carmy this, and he’d given you the same answer each time over the last two years he’d been begging - “Baby we know we’re in love, you know we’re eachothers forever person - we tell eachother every day! We’ve been together 3 years, Let me take care of you” 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be taken care of- it’s just…you liked working. You loved your job, you’d went to school and earned a masters degree for Christ sake, and were currently working on your PHD. You couldn’t ever see yourself giving that up, and moving in with a boyfriend and him insisting on paying all the bills made you fear you’d fall pregnant, and then your professional life would be over. 

But, Carmen had insisted to you he wasn’t interested in children unless you were. You were sure at one point you never wanted them, but you were becoming more afraid, because seeing as amazing an uncle Carmen was, how naturally kind and understanding he was of children- it brought out something in you. It was so sudden that you could imagine turning your shared library / art studio into a nursery during slow time at work. 

You walked down the hall, in no rush to be home. The only presence waiting being your cat, Truffle, Carmy had insisted on the name due to his deep black fur. 

You approached the door, confused as to why you were hearing…music? From your apartment? You shook the hope of Carmy being home this early away, not wanting to be dissapointed. The neighbors downstairs must be blasting that same kind of jazz instrumental Carmy listens to so loud that you heard it through the floor. 

You unlock the door, and sure enough the music playing softly through the condo gets a tad louder but the first thing to catch your eye was the white and pink rose petals making a trail to the kitchen. You heard Carmy humming lightly, the sound of chopping on the cutting board. 

“Bear?” You quickly nudge the door shut with your hip, not even bothering to take your shoes off and rushing down the hall into the kitchen. Sitting atop the breakfast bar, was a vase packed with beautiful pink and white roses. 

He looks up from the cutting board “My favorite girl” he stops what he was doing immediately coming and taking the bags from your shoulders, setting them down before greeting you with a sweet kiss. He cupped your cheeks gently, pulling you in to him so you were flush together with his other hand.  

“You used our card f’that right?” He asked softly when he pulled away. You roll your eyes a bit, he had insisted you get a shared credit card, and that you purchase everything with it- and at the end of the month, he will show you the statement, and only pay a quarter of the total, just another one of the ways he assured every financial burden of yours was eased significantly. 

“Yes, what is all this baby?” You asked, motioning to the roses. “Did I forget somethin? Our anniversary isn’t for another 2 months” you asked a bit nervously. Carmen wasn’t a stickler for dates, but it would break your heart if you were to forget something important. 

“No- no. I just…just love you- I wanted to show you, and especially after this week I know I’ve been crazy busy, and I’ve been comin’ in late and leavin’ early, and…I just wanted to show my best girl how much she means t’me” he kissed your forehead sweetly and you felt a blush creeping to your cheeks. 

“That’s so sweet Bear. Thank you I love you, this is…no one’s ever done this- oh my god- are those balloons?” You giggled, seeing heart shaped foil balloons tied to your chair at the table and he smiled proudly. 

“Mmhmm, the lady at the flower place said that - we can talk about it later. You wanna cook w’me? You can just watch if you want?” He asked, gently brushing his fingers through your hair. 

“I never turn down a lesson from the best, let me go get changed real quick” you headed toward the bedroom and he stopped you by your hand pulling you back into his chest, kissing your neck with wet open mouth kisses earning a giggle that you couldn’t contain. 

“Mmm- don’t go in there right now, it’s for later. I already got your pajamas right here” he said going over to the couch and grabbing your favorite pair of sweatpants and his old ‘the beef’ tshirt that to you was the most comfortable thing in the world, especially when he wore it to bed for a few nights before giving it back. 

“For later huh?” You muse, taking off your heeled booties and unbuttoning your slacks before peeling them off and trading them for your soft fuzzy grey sweatpants. 

“Mmhmm” he hummed in response and took your pants for you and your blouse and bra as well, bringing them to the laundry room as you put the shirt on and got your hair situated into a bun. 

“What are we cooking today, chef?” You asked, heading over to the kitchen to see there were little bowls of vegetables that have been precut and you gasp happily. “Stop- are we really?” You giggled. 

“I told you that it’s easy baby but you hate eggplant so ratatouille isn’t gonna be something you’re a big fan of” he chuckled. You had watched the movie with him, and told him that the ratatouille dish looked insanely delicious and that you wanted him to make it for you, but he told you your aversion to eggplant would probably turn you off the dish. 

“But there isn’t eggplant” you said looking over the dishes filled with various vegetables. 

“That’s right, this is princess ratatouille. I’ve been figurin’ out different vegetables w’Syd that would work for it, we finally got it right. We have zucchini and a few different squashes, and we have onion and garlic, tomato, bell pepper, everything you like. I think you’ll love it baby.” He said rubbing your back gently. 

“Of course I’m gonna love it bear, I love everything we make together you have the magic touch. So what’s my job?” You asked eagerly. 

“You my special sous chef, are gonna help put the veggies in and I’m gonna do the sauce” He kissed your temple gently. 

“Ok! Let me get my apron” You said, happily turning to the drawer you kept your aprons in.

“Wait-” he said, holding your arm. You look back at him and he looked…nervous.”Is…something wrong?” You questioned, brows furrowed slightly in concern.

“No- no I um….i got you a new one” he said sheepishly, walking over to the island and opening up the cupboard beneath you never used. 

“Oh- ok..Leveling up are we?” You joked, happily leaning against the counter. 

“Jesus-” he chuckled, “Close y’r fuckin eyes- carnival psychic” he teases and you laughed, obliging and closing your eyes.

“Carnival psychic?” you asked and he came over gently putting bundle of fabric in your awaiting hands.

“I swear t’god- you went snoopin’? Open your eyes” he said. You opened your eyes, looking into your hands and seeing an apron. It was white, just like his, and folded perfectly. In thick black letters, intricately painted, ‘ Will You Marry Me? ‘ Adorned with a little red heart over the center pocket that had a square shaped bump.

You felt all of the blood leave your face, your knees feeling wobbly, your mouth gaping in to an O shape, as you stare down at the apron. “Where did you get this?” you whispered, completely awestruck. 

“I-I…um…made it?” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I- shit. Fuck- is this not how you pictured it? I’m so fuckin sorry babe- I-I thought…I dunno- like.. You wanted it private? Cause I know you said you’d never-” he’s interrupted by your lips crashing on his in a fervent wanting kiss, a mix of spit and teeth and lips and tongues, he moans softly into your mouth, squeezing your waist.

You were pressed together so firmly that the small box dug into your ribs, eventually pulling away from him with shaking hands and reaching into the pocket, pulling out the small black velvet box. You ever so carefully opened it, your breath catching in your throat when you saw the absolutely breathtaking ring.

“I-it’s not uh..not a diamond- cause I know you said-” you interrupt him

“Princesses and Queens don’t wear diamonds, they wear crystals” you finished, staring at the beautifully cut opal, at least 8 carats, banded by a intricate edwardian band… nothing short of a ring for a Goddess.

“But..But- this one…it does- it has both…because uh” he swallows thickly. “It…in my mind- when I s-saw it, it represented your soul, and your physical body.. And I liked that. Cause- y’re my diamond, but you’re also my queen, my everything, baby. Like how - how you said that…you wished your aura was opal? It is. It is, angel. And every time you look at that, I want you to remember that you’re beautiful from your diamond exterior, to your opal soul” he brushed his finger over the ring, before meeting your gaze once again.

He gently wiped the tears that were running down your cheeks freely, hot and wet and open. It was rare that Carmy genuinely used his words rather then his actions to express his love for you, so you were nothing short of savoring this. “Holy fucking shit” you laughed, shaking your head and looking down at the ring box. “Put it on my hand” you held your left hand out. 

He chuckled a bit, “so… yes? You will?” he asked carefully, pulling the ring out of the box.

“Are you kidding, YES! Put this ring on my finger and fuck me dumb- this is all i’ve ever wanted, Bear, I fucking love you- and youre asking if I want you to be my husband?! I’ve wanted nothing more for two years- at least!” you shake your left hand for emphasis, a wide large grin on your face.

He carefully slid the ring over your manicured finger, and it just made you cry more how it fit perfectly. “How do you know my size?!” you asked, since most of the vintage rings he'd bought you were adjustable so it didn't matter the size of the rings he’d gotten for you before.

He chuckled a bit, “so- y’re ring…y’know the one…y’thought you lost it at Chipotle like…ahhh- 8 months ago now? In the bathroom? Y’took it off at the table, you wore it on your ring finger so I had to take my chance. You kept sayin how it was like- the only ring you’d found that fit without takin’ it to the jewler. So uh” he dug in his jeans pocket, placing your beloved vintage ring with your starsign on it in your palm.

“I got that ring, based on the size. I got it uhhh…sorry dont be offended- it’s not new… I got it at an estate sale of this lady- it was crazy- the way I came across it babe… like fate. It was when Syd and I went to New York for that interview, she literally dragged me to this sale cause she said the lady who died was said to have a bunch of vintage fur and stuff she was looking f’somethin- anyway. We met the lady’s daughter- Stella? I think it was? Doesn’t matter… but she um..said her Ma was some crazy astrology nut, also said she only wore crystals. So I took a look… that was the first box I opened. And y’ring on my pinky, it fit perfect, so I tried it on- it fit like a glove. I’m glad we don't have to size it. Asked her if it was real, she said - her Ma told ‘er some…. Like life coach? Er- astrologer life coach author? Gave it to ‘er on a trip to Jamaica in the 60’s. Told ‘er ‘this ring will someday be worn on a hand proudly as a devotion of true love’- Miss- No! Madame ! Madame Stardust. Nutty name right?” he chuckled a bit. 

You smiled proudly at the ring, a devotion of true love indeed. “I think” you turned to the counter, stacking the bowls of vegetables together and putting them in the fridge as you friskily countered “you are not going in to work at all next week- wifes orders” you walked over to him, hips swaying. “And after you fuck me absolutely stupid” you grabbed his collar, pulling him in so your faces were meer inches apart “Oh- and we talk about how this mademe stardust? Confirms that our souls are indeed woven together like a fucking wicker basket” you kiss him roughly, weaving your fingers through his dirty blonde curls and tugging firmly. 

He moaned into your mouth, his hands trailing down and squeezing your ass firmly. You hummed in satisfaction, leaning against him and he stumbled back, back, back, pushing the bedroom door open with a squeak. You looked up, Breaking your kiss with wide eyes.

All throughout the bedroom, were printed photos of you and Carmy throughout the years, suspended with clear wire so it was as if the photos were floating midair. You clasp your hands over your mouth, admiring all the hard work and pure thought that had went into the gesture. You looked over all the photos, three years of memories hanging before you like a gallery of love surrounding you, all of your fondest happiest memories at every flicker of your eyes.

“Carmen” you whispered, walking forward and admiring each and every photograph…

He comes behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. 

“Y’know how you said no work next week…” he said softly, kissing up your neck with wet, sexy, open mouthed kisses. “We leave Sunday… F’Cyprus” He said hotly in your ear, his breath tickling your neck causing a moan to escape your lips as he gently lifts your shirt, palming your breast gently.

“Is- is that-” you breathe out

“We’re getting a tour of Aphrodites Baths” he said softly, rolling your taught nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Ah- y-you remembered?” you gasped, he let out a soft deep chuckle, Kissing the corner of your mouth and gently laying you down upon the soft sheets of your shared bed. 

“I’d have proposed over a year ago- when I got the fuckin’ ring if i coulda gotten us the tour sooner” he muttered into your skin, tugging off your- (his) shirt, leaving supple, gentle kisses over your stomach and up your ribs.

“Mm- are we- can we swim?” I asked hopefully.

He  gently wipes your tears away, “No” he said a bit sadly, “We can dip our hands… some asshole ruined swimming for people years ago…before we met…but- we were also gonna Parga Greece, baby. We’re spending 2 days in Cyprus, then flying to Parga on a charter- we can swim, fuck, do whatever in those waters baby. Amidst the Goddess of the Underworld f’five whole days” he smirked and you gasped, as if he’d gotten you the moon on a string.

“The Acheron River?” you whisper and he nodded, gently rubbing his thumb over your lips.

“That is the sexiest thing i’ve ever heard in my life- you’re gonna make me cum in the 2nd most famous river of Hell?” you giggled and he snorts a laugh, pushing you on the bed gently.

“Fuck yeah, you little fuckin’ freak” he teased, tugging off your panties and sweatpants in one swift pull, leaving you soaked and bare before him.

You gasped at the rough action, quickly being soothed by soft, sweet kisses over your hipbones. 

“I fuckin smell y’kitten fuck” he growled, kissing the inner of your thigh in the way that made you creen. 

“Shit- good- right? If y’compared me to a seafood market i’d break your nose” you teased, hooking the crooks of your knees over his shoulders, shivering when he leaned in closer, his hot breath directly over your clit- his lapis blue eyes boring into yours.

“That question doesn’t deserve an answer” he grumbled hotly, spreading your folds with his fingers and admiring the wet, slick, mess in front of him. “S’fuckin pretty princess- fuckin’ prettiest pussy in the world” he nearly moaned, burrying his mouth where you needed him most, eyes fixed on yours.

You couldn’t even make a sound- a hot breathy gasp escaping your slack-jawed stance as your head flopped back on the mattress with a soft bounce. “Mmmmm shit” Carmy hummed, satisfied with your taste as if he was devouring his favorite dessert.

“F-Ffuuuckkk” you whimpered out pathetically, voice cracking and bleeding out between the fracture lines of your hot intense pleasure.

“Mmhmm-mmmhmmm” Carmy mumbled confidently against your now firm clit, tongue flicking over it at a mind-numbing pace, bringing you right to the edge and hanging you there by a single finger.

“Ahhhh-Ahhhh-Fuck!! Carmy! Oh- ohhhh!!!” You whined, spine pointing in an arch off the mattress, your hips and thighs quivering and shaking wildly as your orgasm crashed over you like hot lightning before you could even warn him, or know yourself it was so close.

“Goooood girl, thats it- mm- my good fuckin’ girl- Y’gonna be my fuckin’ wife baby? Mmm? Gonna be mine? F’rever?” He grumbled, placing a gentle kiss to your clit before placing gentle yet firm pressure over it with the pad of his tongue that made your hips buck with a mind of their own.

He chuckled slightly into your heat, the vibration causing you to whine pathetically. “Y-yes-yes-fuck i’mfuckinyoursBear-y’gonnamakemey’wife? Yeah? Gonna make me Mrs. fuckin Carmen Berzatto?” you slurred, pulling him into a messy wanting kiss, soughing at the flavor of your core coating his spit.

“Fuckin- spit in my fucking mouth- claim me” you groaned. He smiled against your lips, pulling away slightly, a thick hot string of saliva connecting the two of you.

“So fuckin dirty” he grumbled with a smirk “Open that filthy fucking mouth” he ordered, getting quiet for a moment as he gathered saliva in the front of his mouth.

You obeyed him immediately - your jaw going slack, tongue stuck out ever so slightly and eyes fluttered shut. Then- you felt it, hot, sweet, salty saliva coating your tongue, you groan at the flavor as it continues pooling over your tastebuds. “Do not fucking swallow yet- greedy girl” he tapped your chin firmly, before pulling your jaw open wider with Tthe pad of his thumb. 

“Stick out that pretty little tongue” he grumbled, you obeyed with a smile, opening wide as you could, sticking your tongue out far, showing off the creamy white saliva he’d dressed your tongue in, so much it was seeping down onto your chin, threatening to coat the front and back of your throat.

“Good girl- that's my good little kitten” he purred, “How d’you want me princess?” he gently collected the excess saliva from your chin on his thumb, sucking it off his digit hotly as he awaits your response while you swallow gratefully, the taste setting your soul ablaze.

“I want you to fucking claim me, Carmy, holy fuck- use me, worship me, fuck me like a goddamn animal- whatever you fucking want- please” you begged after you’d savored the taste while you swallowed, his sky blue eyes going dark as navy slacks with lust at the admission. 

“Yeah? Why not all three?” he pushed you down to the mattress by your throat, not hard enough to bruise- but hard enough for the breath to leave your lungs and your core to throb so hard you were clenching your thighs, trying to give any solace of pressure to your swollen aching clit.

“P-please” you stuttered, writhing against the mattress and he chuckled darkly. 

“Are we a little needy? Mmm princess?” he pushes your knees apart with his thigh, aiding the throbbing pressure with his strong fingers, rubbing firm, slow circles into the twitching bud that made your hips snap into the mattress and head fall back to the bed, eyes rolling back with a sharp gasp of pleasure. 

“Pl-please-” you gasp out, spine arching sharply as he replaced his fingers with his mouth on your clit, 2 fingers slipping inside of you with no resistance due to the fact your core was so soaked it was beginning to pool at the dip of your bum and soak the sheets. The squelching as he pumped into your g-spot mixed with your high-pitched moans and frisky growls was absolute sin.

He opens his jaw wider, tonguing your entrance wildly and nuzzling his strong nose against your clit in broad strokes, randomly flicking back and forth quickly making you squeal in pleasure as you grind against his mouth, fully out of control of your movements as if you were a puppet on a string.

“H-Hooooo-i’m cumming- oh- don’t you dare fucking stop Carmen” you growled, grabbing his curls and pullinghim further into your core. “I’m cumming- i’mcumming-holy-holyfuck-imfuuuckiing-AAAH!” your thighs and hips shake and quiver, stars of ethereal white filling your vision.

“Mmhmmm” he grumbled, coming up and sucking your nipple with his slick lips, his chin and nose soaked with your arousal, so much so his chin dripped onto your ribs. 

“H-Oh-yes Bear” you whined out, head tilting to meet his gaze. “I need you- I-I need you inside- like- fuck- when you- you have my knees around your hips and y-you fuckin’- just drill me Carmy- I need that- need you deep” You reverberated wantingly, wrapping your thighs around his waist taughtly, making it easier for him to take you exactly how you wanted.

“Jesus Christ- I can’t fuckin’ stand y’baby. Y’re like a fuckin’ drug- it’s like I fuckin’ function unless I’ve had a hit” he nibbed your collarbone, quickly removing his jeans and boxers, aligning himself with your entrance.

You gave him a mischievous smile, inching your hips forward. “C’mon- I don’t give a fuck ‘bout cooking right now- fuck me absolutely dumb- then take me to Sam’s f’r chocolate chip pancakes- sure that waitress will be over the moon bout my ring” you mused, capturing our lips together, as he scoops up your shoulders and holds you chest to chest, your third of many orgasms that night building throughout every muscle.

It was going to be a long night….

[ohhsaki]

SM single handedly ruined riize's career, riize worked so hard to build a stable fanbase in the past year but now the fandom is divided, the minority is loud in such a gruesome way, they want more and more control over riize, they are quite literally bullying riize, as soon as any of the members start to act in a way they dont want them to, they start to dismiss the members, both riize and we know that they bullied seunghan out of the grp and they could do the same to other members too. SM had so many better ways to handle this situation, seunghan shouldnt have been put on hiatus to begin with, they should have sued people, i mean riize's privacy was getting invaded even before their debut, like i was there and every other day somebody would post something true or not, sm should have taken the actions then,they shouldnt have made seunghan apologize 4 fucking times cause tht just played right how these 6ullies wanted it to be, it made them think tht they have over riize, it made seunghan feel like he was a burden to his grp, it should have never come to the funeral wreaths, but SM is fucking dumb. But even now? i am 99% sure if not 100% tht SM hasnt sued anyone yet and i dont think they will, removing seunghan not even after 2 days? but we have been loud for a whole month, yet they arent bringing him back. SM had one job, the assignment was due 4 weeks ago now points will be deducted. and if yall are doubting the boycott dont cause it is working riize was in the 11th place and now they are at the 35th and this for sure is making sm's pockets hurt so dont stop now cause we are so close.

[dariwrites03]

Fucked up Monday.

A/n: this is the first Ellie x female reader I’ve ever written so pls be kind ??? ( let’s be real, first thing I’ve ever written ngl) Also, English isn’t my first language so excuse my mistakes. Otherwise have fun!

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/daribertduck/748855174059130880/fucked-up-monday-23

Summary: Having Ellie as a friend is great. Having her as you’re patrol partner? Even better. Loving her though, that’s where all the problems begin. Especially since Ellie doesn’t feel the same, right?

Warnings: slightly mention of grief, anxiety,post apocalypse world!! Slightly curse words ( what’s you’re favorite curse word? Probably fuck.)

-5,9K words or something xx

The world suddenly became gray, the clouds got thicker and as the rain started to make its way down onto the dirty ground surrounding your house, you knew today was most definitely not a good day. But It's not like you didn't know that already. The last couple of days weren't great either, and that's not something you can blame on the terrible January weather.

No, partly you blame yourself for those terrible hours that turned into days you spent in front of your living room window wasting away important minutes, stuck with way too many thoughts to function. So many things you have to think over and over, without really ending up with an answer that satisfies you. And you blame her, too, for somehow making the world much darker than it already is. But deep down you knew that this wasn't the right way to go, you could not make her the center of your problems, couldn't build your own mistakes around her. But you'd like to try anyway.

Monday, only a week ago, everything was as fine as it could be, considering the circumstances. Because life in the post-apocalypse isn't always easy, because one of your closest friends, Dina, is in love with Ellie Williams. Because Ellie Williams is the girl you gave your heart many years ago.

This specific Monday,where everything went down, you were on patrol with Ellie. Over the past two months, it had become a ritual. The two of you made the best team in Jackson, using supplies judiciously and working smart and fast. Everyone could rely on you both, and you loved it. The feeling of being needed was something great. The idea of people believing and trusting you was something you wouldn't trade for anything. You loved to help, and God knows you were doing a pretty good job at it too.

That Ellie was the one assigned to you wasn't something you were mad about. You craved nothing more than the attention from the emerald green-eyed girl. Knowing that you two spent hours on patrol with nothing but meaningless conversations filling the air made life taste a bit sweeter. And Ellie felt the same way. From the moment you first exchanged words in Jackson, you both knew right away that whatever you had in your hearts for each other was too precious to let loose.

But now, that specific feeling you get whenever you think about her is probably the reason why you're scared in your living room, hiding from everything and everyone, but especially from her.

Having Ellie as your friend was incredible. You both talked about everything and always found playful words even in serious situations, lightening the burden on your minds. But being friends with her wasn't enough for you. You yearned to be closer, to have her in every way you could possibly want a human being. And that terrified you since your friend made her intentions about Dina very clear.

And having her as your patrol partner was the wisest decision Maria ever made. Even though you weren't always assigned to each other, the moments you shared on patrol were precious. The way you both moved in sync, anticipating each other's actions, spoke volumes. It was more than just duty; it was a connection that defied mere partnership.

At first,starting off new right after the parole training Tommy gave you, you were in a group with your cousin Dylan. He was a smart man, kind and caring—one of the closest people you'd ever call family. Not much older than you or your friends, but he lost his life in a fight with a bloader while the two of you went to check on an Abandoned School near Jackson. When you returned without Dylan by your side, the traumatic experience still etched into your bones, you explained the situation to Maria right away, sharing as many details as you could remember. You hoped that you wouldn't have to recount this nightmare of a story multiple times. You described to her exactly where it happened and how you somehow managed to escape, paying the price of Dylan losing his life while distracting the bloader. Maria promised to be there when you told all your family members and to send out a group of people to the building. Their mission: to finish off the bloater and retrieve whatever was left of Dylan for a somewhat respectful funeral. Something he deeply deserved.

After your conversation with Maria, she immediately called Ellie in to ask if it would be okay for her to pair with you. Returning to work wasn't something you originally had in mind, but in hindsight, Maria probably knew that working would keep your mind off things. She was also aware of the deep connection you had with Ellie. If she had assigned you to someone else, you might have been too terrified to venture close to the outside world ever again.

Ellie, however, always wanted to go on patrol with you. She hated the idea of you going with Dylan instead. It wasn't that she didn't like him; it was more that she felt like she lost control the moment the safe gates of Jackson closed, and she wasn't by your side.

The first couple of times the two of you went on patrol together were more challenging than you had anticipated. Sometimes, you believed you could still hear his screams echoing in the back of your mind. Other times, his anguished facefilled your thoughts, and you grappled with the regret of running in the opposite direction. The guilt of what you *should* have done never truly left your mind.

Maria, understanding the weight of your experience, altered the usual patrol routes for you and Ellie. She ensured that you both didn't have to cross the area where the incident with Dylan occurred. Deep down, you knew there was nothing you could have done to save Dylan, yet you couldn't help but blame yourself.

Ellie did her best to empathize, and you noticed and appreciated her efforts. While she couldn't erase all the pain, her presence made the feelings a little less overwhelming. You sensed that she was aware of this too since she let you sleep over at her place almost everyday since and somehow already knew when a new anxiety attack was about to happen without you even knowing it.However, over the past few weeks, you've been avoiding her, along with almost everyone else. The ache in your heart, triggered by thoughts of Ellie being with Dina, became too much for your frightened heart to bear. Distance seemed like the only viable solution—a way to shield yourself from the emotional storm.

On that bittersweet Monday,where the two of you headed out a little earlier than you'd prefer, the sun not yet fully awake, you embarked on a new route. Not far from Jackson, there lay a small town—one that Maria wanted both of you to investigate and "clean." With  that purpose, you made your way over there.

As you and Ellie stepped into this town, its quiet streets greeted you. The air smelled of pine and nostalgia, and the sun cast long shadows across the wooden storefronts. Maria's instructions echoed in your mind.

Ellie walked beside you, her gaze scanning the facades. Her emerald eyes held a mix of curiosity and determination. You wondered what thoughts raced through her mind.

As you explored the town, you noticed faded murals on brick walls, their colors muted by time. Abandoned storefronts stood like sentinels, their windows boarded up, history locked within. The creak of a rusty swing in the town square hinted at children's laughter long gone. And somewhere, perhaps hidden in the shadows, lay the heart of this place.

With each step, you peeled back layers—the layers of dust, of stories, of forgotten dreams. The sun climbed higher, casting warmth on your shoulders.

"Hey, I thought I was funny!" Ellie's voice echoed in the back of your mind, snapping you back to reality and the conversation you and her had going on."God, Ellie, you know I love you lots, but do you have to be so weird?" you asked her, a smirk spreading across your face. "No idea what you're talking about, babe. Am I not allowed to express my love for clothing?" she said dramatically. "Not when you show up at a parole meeting wearing a cowboy hat?!" you said, laughing, recalling the expressions on Maria and Joel's faces when Ellie walked in. "It was a statement!" - "A fashion crime, that's what it was!" Your tone was amused. Ellie didn't respond to your playful jab and just shook her head, her laughter filling the air. That sound, that sweet sound you could never get enough of, made everything feel more than alright. It was just the two of you, on your horses, riding near a lake, continuing to cross the small town, laughing as if this was how it was meant to be. But the comfortable silence that enveloped both of you suddenly halted when you laid eyes on a massive, abandoned mall ahead. "Seems like we need to check this place out," Ellie said, her voice calm as she studied the map in her hands. You tightened your grip on the reins of your horse. "Alright, lead the way?" you asked her. She responded, "Already on it, princess." You rolled your eyes, but the nickname slid off you, making your heart beat faster.

Ellie dismounted her horse, handing you the reins. She strode toward the entrance, determined to open the massive door that separated you both from the darkness within. Meanwhile, you secured the horses to a nearby fence and joined Ellie, who stood waiting. "Ladies first," she quipped, making a sweeping gesture toward the freshly opened door. You rolled your eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips. As you prepared to step inside, Ellie's hand pulled you back. "Spores. Masks on," she mumbled, adjusting her own mask. You followed suit, the cool fabric pressing against your face. Stepping over the threshold, you moved quietly, attuned to the sounds echoing through the abandoned mall from clickers and runners. Ellie held her gun with unwavering resolve, and you mirrored her stance. Her gaze met yours, locking in a shared understanding."Try not to get bit," Ellie said, her voice low. "I don't really feel like shooting you in the head today. Maybe tomorrow, though." Her eyes crinkled, a smile hidden behind the mask. You couldn't help but grin. "Fuck you, Williams," -"Nah, I'd prefer somebody else doing it."

As the two of you make your way deeper into the building, talking nonsense quietly while finishing off Clickers on your way, A loud sound makes you and Ellie stop in your tracks. ''what the fuck was that...'' She mumbled, and you're looking past Ellie in the direction the horror sound was coming from. ''I…”You were unable to speak, move or even breathe because you recognized that sound immediately. ''Hey, are you okay?'' You heard her saying, she moved closer to you and softly grabbed your shoulder with her free hand, shifting your chest so you're looking into her direction again.'' Babe, are you okay?'' Ellie repeated her Question, looking for something in your eyes, you cannot make out. Yet again you were unable to answer, fear slowly making its way up into your lungs, preventing you from breathing properly. She was about to say something again, but she got interrupted by the sound of loud footsteps moving into your direction, revealing one of the most terrifying things this 'new' world has to offer. ''A fucking Bloader...'' Ellie's whisper recalled in your mind and without even knowing it, you're back with Dylan. You were back in the school with him by your side, you hear him screaming your name in pain, begging you to leave, you taste the blood of his on your tongue. You can't breathe. Tears started to form in your eyes, the world got blurry, and that anxious feeling from that same night made its way back into your bones. The feeling of Ellie's hands drifting away from your shoulder, just past to your underarm. Her grabbing your hand was the only thing you noticed before a jerky movement brought you back into reality. Ellie was leading you up an Escalator, running as fast as your guys lungs allowed. ''Fucking shit, we have to move, princess!'' She said, her voice demanding. You couldn't say anything, not even recognizing the nickname she gave you that normally makes your knees weak, the only thing you were able to do was moving with her, her soft hands grabbing your underarm being the only reason you were able to move in the first place.

You couldn't even notice the way Ellie ran a bit faster than you, not letting go of your hand while shooting down upcoming Runners and Clickers, snuffing out whatever life they still clung to. You couldn't even hear Ellie's words as she spoke to you, couldn't see her breaking down a random door and pushing you both inside, closing it firmly and securing it with whatever heavy material she found to lock you two in. Your mind was a whirlwind of panic, grief, and regret. You couldn't move, tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried to control your agonal respiration. The mask felt even more uncomfortable than it already was. Then, two soft hands carefully grabbed your face, removing the mask and gently resting on your skin. It was a lifeline back to reality.

"Babe, you're okay. We're safe. Come on, try to breathe with me, okay?"Her voice slowly penetrated your foggy brain. Your right hand automatically found her wrist, and for a moment, you tried to do what the brown-haired girl in front of you said—you tried to breathe. "Doing so good, Darling,"she encouraged. „Keep going. Focus on me, alright? Breathe in... hold it, love... okay, breathe out." The softness of her voice traveled up to your brain, dispelling the dark smoke that had clouded your thoughts. "Shit..."you whispered, not caring how pathetic you probably looked right now. Her eyes never left yours, and finally, you took your first real breath since arriving in the mall. "Yeah... that probably captures it best,"she said, her touch gentle as she caressed your cheek. She was still a bit out of breath from all the running.

You looked at her for a second longer, and for some inexplicable reason, everything didn't feel so dire anymore. Maybe it was because with Ellie by your side, you could never feel truly unsafe. A grin crept onto your face, and without bothering to hide it, you burst into laughter, tears still wetting your skin. Ellie stared at you, momentarily confused, but her expression softened. She wasn't able to hold on the grinning expression herself.

Ellie looked at you for a moment, her confusion giving way to laughter. "What the hell, the fuck was that?" you said, still chuckling. „I wish I fucking knew“ she said. Ellie's hands remained pressed against your cheeks, and you didn't mind at all. She grinned, pulling you a bit closer until her forehead rested against yours. "You feel okay, though?" she asked, her tone shifting back to concern. You replied quietly, "I'm with you, so... yeah." Ellie didn't say anything, but her touch lingered on your skin before she pulled away.

"Let's try to find a way out of here," she declared, already scanning the small store she'd barricaded you both into. Her movements were purposeful, and you appreciated her practicality. "I'm definitely not cleaning this entire mall up by myself."- „I mean, you did almost half of it already?“ you said, grinning again. „Yeah, the others can do the other half. I’m fucking done with this place.“

The closeness between you wasn't weird; it was familiar. Ellie had always been a touchable person, and you never complained. In fact, you loved the feeling of having her close—the warmth of her skin against yours. It had happened countless times before Hands touching a little too long, hugs that stretched into eternity, and mornings waking up tangled together. It was no longer something to overthink; it just was—a connection that transcended words.

You made your way through the store, noticing only just now that it used to be some sort of clothing shop. ''hey, look at that. Should I grab that for Dina?'' The voice from the opposite of the room bought your attention, you let your eyes travel their way to where your best friend is standing, holding up a basic brownish lined jacket, weirdly posing with it like she's some sort of model getting pictures taken. ''Yeah. Sure, do that.'' You said, already regretting how your voice sounded out loud. Ellie being in love with Dina wasn't news to you, you were the first person she ever told about her undeniable feelings towards Dina. That your heart shattered in about a million pieces isn't something you ever considered of telling her-You wanted to be supportive, knowing that Dina also felt the same about your best Friend. ''Is everything alright?'' Ellie said, confused by your lack of enthusiasm. ''Yeah, all good, just still, you know, fucked up from that bloader trying to rip us apart.'' You answered while pretending to look through some of the clothes. you practically didn't lie. The encounter with the bloader made you feel all weird and anxious, you were already struggling with not allowing yourself to even think about the incident and with that thing crossing your path it was almost inevitable to keep those memories locked away. Ellie looked at you as she isn't really buying it ''Hey, we don't have to leave right away. We surely can take a break?'' she suggested, making her way over to you. ''A break does sound fucking nice.'' You said, giving the slightly taller girl a tired smile. Ellie nodded at you, nudging your shoulder with hers while walking past you. Now opening a gray door behind the cash register with the words ''Employees only.'' written on lined paper.

Entering the common room was more than disappointing. Although there was an old sofa welcoming your stay, Ellie and you must've shared the same idea because before you could even make a step towards the in dark blue colored sofa, Ellie already dropped her body on it with a load groan. "Fuck you, move your ass over, El.'' You said, smirking as you moved to the small space. She looked up at you, her face blessed with another grin as she crossed her arms behind her head. ''Nah, I'm quite comfortable, thanks for suggesting it though!'' She closed her eyes and moved around on the cheap looking fabric to find the most comfortable position. ''Oh yeah? I mean, you wanted this. Practically dared me to do it'' You said. One of her closed eyes opened „what do you mean?“ she said. Without saying another word you set yourself as carefully as you can down on her lab. Ellie, on the other hand, dramatically lifted her upper body up, pretending to cough for much-needed air ''Help!! Help!! Doctor, I Can't breathe!'' Her arms went in every direction, making it seem like she's struggling to move, "c'mon, fuck you, I'm not even using my full body weight!" You said defending yourself. "Okay, okay, I'm done for. Dead, you won this round, you're officially the “Ellie defeater”.now get down!" She said, laughing as she gently pushed you from her lap. As you got up, Ellie actually made some space for you to sit down, which you did almost immediately. You lean your head against the wall behind you and look at your best friend now sitting leg crossed facing you. "You actually feeling okay tho?" she' asked for what felt like a million times today, which brought a small honest smile onto your face „yeah, as okay as I can be. Seeing that thing did bring some memories back, if rather forget. Thanks for saving me though" you said, playing with the strands of your jacket. „Yeah, glad to be your savior when time gets rough. You owe me one" she said, grinning. "Yeah, sure I owe you" you said. „Totally. Hmm," she said, pretending to think "what could you possibly do for me to regard me for saving your life?" with a grinning face she looked you up and down, and you knew immediately that what your friend had in mind wasn't something that's going to turn out good. „What are you thinking right now? Should I be scared?"- ''Don't know yet.'' Ellie said, lifting her body into a more comfortable sitting position."How about... I ask you a question, and you'll answer truthfully?" Ellie's words carried a weight of seriousness, and you couldn't help but feel anxious. "I'm always honest?" you replied, looking at her, bluffing with your answer. You knew that you weren't always honest, but you kept your own truth close to your heart because it wouldn't change the outcome anyway. Survival often required pretty white lies.

"Cut the bullshit. Okay, so... why are you avoiding Dina all of a sudden?" The question caught you off guard, and you looked at your best friend as if you'd just seen your dead cousin dancing with a Clicker in the distance. "What? I'm not?" you said, knowing Ellie wouldn't buy your bluff. "Hey, you promised to answer truthfully," she insisted, making you roll your eyes. "I never said I'll answer." You shrugged your shoulders, and Ellie gave you a slightly annoyed look.

"Babe... be honest," her voice calm and almost a whisper, her body leaning against the sofa frame. "Dina and I talked about this. She feels insecure, like she's done something wrong. And thinking about it, I feel like you've been avoiding me as well. The only time I ever see you is on patrol. It used to be more, you know? We barely talk. I think it's rather sad. Have I done something? Has Dina made you uncomfortable? Don't give me that look, love. I'm trying to understand you." Her voice shifted from calm to confused, and you knew right away that Ellie wouldn't let this go until she knew the real reason for your distance.

"No... Dina did nothing wrong."It's the only thing you're able to answer. You look down at your hand, playing with the matching bracelet you share with Ellie. „Did I do something...?"you hear her whisper, her voice filled with insecurity. Your heart clenches at the thought of being the reason why Ellie's overthinking her behavior. So, before you can overthink your next move, you look up to her. You move your body a bit closer and lay your hand on her knee, comfortably caressing the fabric of her skinny jeans.

"No... God, of course not. You did nothing wrong. It's just... it's me."Her eyes meet yours, and you know right then and there that you're fucked, unable to lie with her eyes looking at you like that. „What is it, then?"she whispers, resting her own hand on yours. The touch makes you feel like you need to run away as fast as possible. „I... I'm hurt, okay?"You say it with all the honesty in your heart. „Hurt? From what? Dina and I didn't—"You don't let Ellie finish her sentence. Instead, you get up from the comfortable sofa and run your hands over your face. "... this is exactly why I don't want to talk to either of you!"You're now standing in the middle of the room, looking at Ellie who remains in the same sitting position. Her eyes follow you as you pace the small common room.

"You and Dina, all day... when I hang out with you, you only tell me how beautiful she is, how perfect you guys are together, and how deeply in love you are. If I hang with D, it's the same fucking story."Your voice shakes with all the built-up anger inside of you. You're well aware that you don't have the right to be mad about those two people falling in love. You've never even addressed your feelings to anyone else except your mirror at 3 am. How are Ellie or Dina supposed to know that it's ripping you apart? "And what's your problem with that? And did Dina really say she’s into me too?" Ellie asks, and you couldn't help the tears already welling up in your eyes again. "Yes, she did, Ellie. You know she feels the fucking same," you say, your voice breaking into a desperate whisper.

"Hey, the fuck?" Ellie's voice is already alarmed with worry as she gets up to walk those three more steps, entering your personal space again. Her hand reaches for yours, but you subtly step away from her, your back slightly hitting the white wall behind you. "Love, what? Why are you crying? What does Dina feeling the same have to do with you avoiding us?" She asks, her eyes showing some sort of disappointment the second you stepped away from her."Just... forget it, okay? I don't want to talk about it." You mumble, your voice breaking. "But I want to talk about it." Ellie's eyes never leave yours until you look down at your dirty, almost broken Converse shoes. "Ellie, just leave it b—" You get interrupted by Ellie's sharp voice cutting you off. "For fucks sake, can you be fucking honest for once? I don't get your fucking problem. You don't talk, you ignore me and Dina, and now you're saying it's because Dina and I are falling for each other? I thought you're fucking happy for me! Like a best friend should be! I don't understand you, really, I don't." Her voice grows louder with every word. You try to say something again, but you can't bring yourself to talk. You notice Ellie walking toward you again, the wall behind you failing your escape. You felt anger rushing over you, mixed with regret and.. disappointment.

"How about you finally say what you think, huh? Can't go around treating your friends badly because you have some weird jealousy problems. It’s not my fault you don’t have other friends besides me”She's mad, and you know she doesn't understand your reasoning for drifting away from her. Deep down, you also know she's just hurt and, more importantly, scared of losing you.

"...Why are we still talking about this?" You say, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you look into her eyes. She's already looking at you, and god, she's close—too close. "We're going to talk about this until you tell me what's going on." Tears continue to stream down your face for the second time today but this time not because you were sad. You were angry, without even being sure at who you’re angry at.You shake your head, not wanting to answer, and begging to whatever is above you to somehow make Ellie drop the entire topic. ''No, no, you'll answer me right now. What the hell is wrong with you?'' Her hands grabbing your shoulders, pressing your body more against the wall behind you. „You already know it anyways, now let go of me.'' You said, although you were not even trying to pushing her away. ''Not until you answer me with your own words. I Can do this all day'' She said. ''fuck,els, you don't want to know, okay? Just forget it, let me go and let's get the hell out of here''-''So that you can ignore me again? Hell no, we're having this talk now even if it's the last thing I’ll do'' She demanded. ''I don't know what you want from me right now, Ellie!'' you said, voice rising as well with every new word leaving your lips. ''The truth! Why the fuck are you avoiding us?!'' You closed your eyes, taking all that bravery you have left inside you to speak the next heart wracking words filled with honesty. ''Because I Can't handle you falling for somebody else. Because knowing you want her breaks my fucking heart, because I want to be the girl you think about, talk about, dream about! Because I fucking love you, okay?! I’m sorry!” You looked at her, eyes scared, like a little puppy. She didn't answer but didn't let go of your shoulder either. ''you happy now?'' You said and before Ellie could prevent it, you took the moment of her confusion as a way to escape her grip, pushing her away slightly. That movement was the wake-up call Ellie needed because she grabbed your shoulder again just to push you into almost the same position, back pressed against the cold wall.

And suddenly, you waited—waited what felt like ages—for the eclipse of her cutting words to happen. You anticipated her telling you to never talk to her again, accusing you of selfishness, and lamenting the ruin of a perfectly good friendship. But instead, there was silence. The only sound that reached your ears was her deep breathing, mirroring your own. And in that hot, suspended moment, you feared she could hear your heart beating, laid bare and vulnerable for her to either take or break. You studied her face intently, fear gripping your heart. Scared of what you might find in her expression. She does the same. Ellie's eyes traced every contour, mapping your features as if committing them to memory. And then, abruptly, her gaze halted. It rested on your lips-

"What are you doing?" you barely whispered, your voice a fragile thread in the charged air. The brown-haired girl lifted her gaze to meet your eyes once more, only to trace a deliberate path back down to your lips. A soft, almost imperceptible pressure settled against your chin, her hands holding you in place. Her thumb danced gently over your bottom lip, igniting a flutter of anticipation within you. You swallowed, the moment hanging suspended—a fragile bridge between friendship and something more you’re not ready to cross. "Ellie..." you murmured, the syllables almost lost in the charged silence. Her face drew closer to yours, breaths mingling, and before you could draw your next breath, her lips crashed onto yours without further hesitation. A simple kiss, yet it ignited a cosmic explosion within you. Her lips on yours transformed the quietude into a kaleidoscope of colors. Every rational thought in your brain was stripped away, replaced by her presence—the warmth of her hand still cradling your chin, the delicate shift as it left your shoulder to encircle your waist. Your fingers, guided by instinct, wove through her tousled hair, pulling her closer. Because when it's Ellie, close is never close enough.

As you finally convinced yourself to pull away, the air around you seemed to shimmer with heat. But your brain? It was a tangle of wordless wonder, unable to string coherent thoughts together. So, without hesitation, you drew her back into your space, pressing your soft lips against hers once more.

———————————————————

The ride back was weird. The air around the two of you, once filled with comfortable silence, had shifted. Now, it hung heavy with unspoken words, a chasm between you that seemed insurmountable.

After the kiss, neither of you said much. You swiftly wiped away your tears on the gray sweater you wore—a piece that belonged to Dylan, a memory of another time. Ellie, unable to meet your gaze, chose the only sensible course of action: finding a way out of the mall, escaping the charged atmosphere that clung to you both. Escaping you. And so, you found a backdoor, a clandestine escape from the weirdness that had enveloped you both. Even as you stepped into the outside world, a part of you wished you could linger within those walls a little longer. The horse up front awaited you, and you mounted it, riding away from the mall. The silence between you and Ellie weighed heavily, an unspoken question echoing: Why did it all become so weird?

Embarrassment clung to the silence, and you wondered what comfort you had once found in the noise—the cacophony of everyday life. But answers eluded you. As you returned to Jackson, Ellie by your side, you led the horses back to the stable. Maria received a brief explanation about the situation inside the building, her eyes curious but respectful. And then, without uttering a single word, you and Ellie went your separate ways. The silence remained, a chasm that neither of you dared to bridge.

This was 2 Days, 5 Hours and 54 Minutes ago. But who's Counting, right?

Ever since then, knowing you had three days off parole with her, you barricaded yourself at home. Maria didn't question it; she probably assumed it was because the bloader brought back too many memories. You certainly wouldn't correct her on that theory. Instead, you settled by the big window in your living room, watching raindrops trace their paths on the glass. But it couldn’t it stay that way and you knew eventually you'd have to talk to her, face her, and work with her. You didn't want things to become even more awkward than they already were. So you prepared yourself for a long, difficult talk.

With what felt like hours of convincing yourself and an argument you played out in your head, you got up and made yourself look presentable again. Leaving the comfort of your house, you took a little walk around the built neighbourhood in Jackson, pondering what you'd even say to her. Instead of taking the short road leading directly to Ellie's safe four walls, you made your way to one of the information stations across town, just to have a quick look at next week's schedule.

Arriving there, you meet a friendly face: Sophia. She's almost like Maria's right hand, diligently putting up new lists every week. You give her a small smile, though the turmoil inside you threatens to spill over. Her pitying look doesn't go unnoticed. Your eyes scan the handwritten list, searching for your and Ellie's names, followed by the assigned route. But something catches your attention: Ellie's name isn't next to yours anymore; it's now paired with Dina. You blink, thinking it's some cruel, messed-up joke. Your eyes dart around, seeking your initials, and there they are—next to Jesse.

"What the hell?" you mumble, the confusion swirling in your mind. Sophia approaches, sensing your distress. "Can I help you with anything?" she asks, her voice gentle. You hesitate, then blurt out, "Why am I assigned with Jesse instead of Ellie? Is this some sick joke?"

Regret tinges your voice; it's not Sophia's fault. Mistakes happen, right? She shifts uncomfortably, glancing at You. "Oh, Maria didn't talk to you yet?" she says, reading your expression. "Uhm, Williams, here." She points to the list, where Ellie's name is scrawled in an unsteady handwriting. "Asked Maria to switch parole partners... I don't know why," Sophie mumbles, fear evident in her eyes on how you'd take the news.

You turn to the door hearing a cracking sound, and there's Maria, striding toward you with multiple papers in hand.

"Maria, what the—" Your words catch in your throat. Maria's weathered face meets your gaze. "Hey, sweetie, don't give me that look," she says gruffly. "I tried to talk Ellie out of it, but she insisted on changing partners. Didn’t even gave me an explanation but I could tell she was serious. And since you and Jesse are friends as well, I thought it wouldn't make much of a difference. He can help you out” she said, making it sound like not a big deal.

She insisted on changing.

The words hang in the air, a sledgehammer to your already fragile heart. Is this how it’s going to be from now on? What are you supposed to do?

[logansargeantsbabymom]

A Love Worth Fighting For

Bodyguard!Lando Norris x Fem!Actress!Reader

CHAPTERS 1 & 2

Genre: Forbidden Bodyguard to Lover

Warnings: Smut (Not yet), This is (MY VERSION of) a Slow Burn story!

(Should I make A Love Worth Fighting For Masterlist?)

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

Instagram

Chapter 1: Y/N

I was lounging in my sprawling living room, idly flipping through scripts, when my phone buzzed. It was a message from Daniel Ricciardo, my best friend who drove for Red Bull Racing. 

Daniel: Hey, Y/N! How about coming to the Silverstone GP next weekend? It's been ages since we hung out at a race!

A smile spread across my face. I hadn’t been to a race in a while, and the idea of seeing Daniel again was enticing. Plus, I could use a break from the constant whirlwind of movie sets and press tours.

Y/N: Count me in! Can't wait to see you!

As I hit send, I glanced over at Lando, my ever-watchful bodyguard. He was stationed by the door, his eyes scanning the room with the kind of diligence that came from years of training. Lando Norris had been assigned to me after a particularly harrowing kidnapping attempt a year ago. Since then, he’d been my shadow, a constant presence in my life. His job was to keep me safe, and he took it seriously.

“We’re going to the Silverstone GP next weekend,” I announced, catching his attention.

Lando nodded, his expression unreadable. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

The rest of the week passed in a blur of preparations. I coordinated with my stylist for a race-appropriate yet chic outfit, made sure my schedule was clear, and mentally prepared for the throngs of fans and media that would undoubtedly swarm the event.

Finally, the day arrived. Lando and I boarded a private jet to England. The flight was smooth, filled with light banter and discussions about the race. Despite his professional demeanor, I’d grown to appreciate Lando’s quiet presence and dry sense of humor.

As we touched down in England, a sense of excitement buzzed through me. I was eager to see Daniel and soak in the electrifying atmosphere of the race. But as always, there was an underlying tension, a reminder of the constant vigilance required to keep me safe.

When we arrived at the track, the roar of the engines and the sea of fans were exhilarating. Daniel greeted me with a bear hug, his infectious energy lifting my spirits. 

“Y/N! It’s so good to see you!” he exclaimed. 

I laughed, returning his embrace. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Dan.”

Lando stood a few steps behind me, his eyes scanning the surroundings. I could feel his protective gaze, a silent promise that he was there to keep me safe.

The day was a whirlwind of excitement. Daniel introduced me to some of his teammates, and I soaked in the sights and sounds of the race. But as the sun began to set, a sense of unease settled over me. The crowds were growing thicker, and I could feel the weight of their stares.

Lando must have sensed my discomfort because he stepped closer, his hand gently resting on my back. “We should head back to the hotel,” he murmured.

I nodded, grateful for his presence. As we made our way through the throngs of fans, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to happen. 

Just as we reached the exit, a group of men blocked our path, their expressions hostile. Lando immediately stepped in front of me, his posture tense and ready for a fight.

“Stay behind me,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding.

My heart pounded in my chest as I clung to his jacket, fear creeping in. 

And just like that, the atmosphere shifted from excitement to danger, leaving me on edge as I wondered what would happen next.

Chapter 2: Y/N

The men in front of us radiated hostility, their eyes fixed on me with unsettling intensity. I could feel Lando's body tense, ready to spring into action at any moment. My heart raced, but I knew better than to panic. Lando had drilled it into me time and time again: stay calm, stay alert.

One of the men stepped forward, a smirk playing on his lips. "You think you can just waltz in here and act like you own the place?" he sneered.

Lando's voice was calm but firm. "Back off. We're leaving."

The man laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Not so fast. We just want a little chat with the princess here."

I could feel the bile rising in my throat. This was exactly the kind of situation Lando had warned me about. My fame made me a target, and there were always people looking to take advantage of that.

Lando didn't hesitate. In a swift, fluid motion, he pushed me behind him and squared off against the men. "I said, back off," he repeated, his voice like steel.

The tension in the air was palpable. I could see the men sizing Lando up, trying to decide if he was worth the trouble. It was clear that they hadn't anticipated running into someone like him.

Finally, the leader of the group seemed to come to a decision. He held up his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. "Alright, alright. We'll leave the princess alone."

But as they turned to leave, one of them lunged at Lando, a knife glinting in his hand. Everything happened in a blur. Lando twisted out of the way, his movements precise and controlled. He grabbed the man's arm, twisting it until the knife clattered to the ground. 

The other men, seeing their comrade incapacitated, quickly backed off, muttering curses under their breath as they fled.

Lando didn't let go of the man's arm until he was sure they were gone. Then, he released him with a shove, sending him sprawling to the ground.

"Go," he growled. The man scrambled to his feet and ran.

I was shaking, my heart pounding in my chest. Lando turned to me, his expression softening slightly. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, my voice barely a whisper. "Yes. Thank you."

He gave me a small, reassuring smile. "Let's get you back to the hotel."

As we walked away, I couldn't help but glance back at the spot where the confrontation had occurred. The adrenaline was still coursing through my veins, but there was something else too – a growing sense of admiration for Lando. He had risked his own safety to protect me, and he had done it without hesitation.

We reached the hotel without further incident. Lando escorted me to my room, his hand gently resting on my back. Once we were inside, he turned to me, his expression serious.

"Y/N, I need you to understand something," he said, his voice low. "My job is to protect you, no matter what. But you have to be careful too. There are always going to be people who want to take advantage of your fame."

I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. "I know, Lando. I just… I didn't think it would happen here."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It can happen anywhere. That's why I'm here."

I looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time. He was more than just my bodyguard. He was my protector, my confidant, and maybe, just maybe, something more.

But as I opened my mouth to say something, the words caught in my throat. This was neither the time nor the place for such thoughts. I had to keep my feelings in check, at least for now.

And as I lay in bed that night, the events of the day replaying in my mind, I couldn't help but wonder what the future held. Because one thing was certain: Lando Norris had become more than just my bodyguard. He had become an integral part of my life, and I wasn't sure how to navigate the growing feelings that stirred within me.

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

HI! This is my second series, so please ALWAYS give me feedback, whether you liked the chapter or not, what you hope happens in the next chapter, what I shouldn't include in the next chapter, so on and so forth! You can comment the suggestions, DM the suggestions or you can put them in my inbox.

Likes, Comments and Reblogs are encouraged!

(HERE IS A GOOGLE FORM FOR A SERIES ONLY TAGLIST!)

USERS ADDED TO THE TAGLIST WHEN THIS IS POSTED ON 8/10 (and until next post) WILL BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST OF THIS POST AND THE ONES GOING FORWARD.

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Taglist:

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

So Many Questions Part 3

Prompt: You’re pulled in for questioning by NCIS and are quickly surprised to see your ex-boyfriend as your interrogator.

Notes: Some characters are post season 11. Some smut ahead! @kittenlittle24

Part 2. Part 1.

“I’m here to see Agent Gibbs,” you told the security officer. Making a quick call, he nodded and let you through, now adorning a spiffy visitor pass on your chest.

You entered the big orange room with a small smile, grateful this time you weren’t here to be interrogated. You spotted Agent McGee and Bishop sitting at their desks but no sight of Jethro.

“Miss L/N. Everything alright?” McGee asked as you rounded the corner and chose a chair to sit in.

“Oh yeah, everything’s good. Except for the whole phsycho investor trying to kill me. I felt too vulnerable at my office so I came here to see if I could help in any way.”

Both agents gave you a look that you could only describe as part fear part awe.

“What’s the problem?” you asked, looking around to see if there was a big spider somewhere.

“Uh, you’re just sitting at Gibb’s desk. No one sits there except Gibbs,” Bishop answered, laughing nervously. Jeeze. Is Jethro really that intimidating that his agents are scared of a desk chair?

“Well I saw an empty seat and took it. He won’t mind I’m sure. He’s not even here.”

“Oh but I am,” you heard, turning to see Jethro walking over with a cup of coffee in hand. He stopped to stand in front of you and for a few seconds you both just stared at one another, a silent fight for dominance happening. If the chair was so important, you’d let him have it.

You stood up, now close enough to him to smell his aftershave and gave him a smirk. You always loved challenging him, but loved it more when he challenged you back, as it usually ending with him on top in the literal and figurative sense.

Stepping aside, he took a seat and you moved some of his papers so you could sit on the corner of his desk. His team looked thoroughly shocked but didn’t say anything as Jethro barked at them.

“What’d you got?”

“Well Torres and Quinn are interrogating Cheryll Reznik. She told them Ian Chandler had been talking with a man named Dominic. Bishop and I were able to connect an electronic payment he sent for 10k to a Dominic Waters. Turns out Dominic had just been released from prison about a week ago for armed robbery and aggravated assault. Perfect man for a small hit job in need of cash.”

“Then go bring him in McGee. Take Bishop with you.”

They both quickly scurried off, not wanting to be in the awkward space that you had made. Once the elevator doors closed behind them, you spun around, legs now hanging over Jethro’s side.

“Well you certainly have them trained well.”

“Yeah, they listen. Unlike you. I told you to go back to work, we’ve got this handled.”

You leaned in slightly, watching as his eyes briefly glanced down at your slightly opened blouse and then back at your eyes.

“You know how much I love pushing your buttons Jethro. Plus, I’ve been at work all day and haven’t been able to get anything done. I didn’t feel safe there without you there.”

You picked up his cup of coffee and took a sip, grimacing at the bitter taste. You forgot he liked his coffee plain.

“I’ve got an agent assigned to you when I’m not there,” he explained, taking the coffee out of your hands and taking a sip of his own.

“It’s not the same. Plus, I was thinking maybe we could get a bite to eat. Im starving and I’m assuming all you’ve had today is coffee.”

“No time. Got a killer to catch.”

“Yeah well you’ll be no good to anyone when you pass out from lack of food and an overdose on caffeine.”

He gave you the familiar look that let you know that he let you win the argument. He only ever gave it to you when he also secretly agreed with you.

Without a word, he got up and you hopped down to follow him with a triumphant smile.

————

“I don’t know why we couldn’t have gone to Duke’s. They’ve got the best beet salad,” you complained, sticking an overly cooked fry into your mouth. The little diner was cute but you were sure they weren’t known for their food.

“This place has good coffee.”

You watched him sip his probably 5th coffee of the day and rolled your eyes. Just then, your phone began ringing and you saw the caller ID as your next door neighbor.

“Hey Greg, what’s up?…What? Right now?….Can you see what he looks like?”

You listened to him give you a description and motioned to Jethro that it was important.

“Ok, no don’t confront them! We’re on our way!”

You hung up as Jethro had already gotten up and paid for the dinner.

“My neighbor just called saying someone was breaking into my place. His description was vague but it looked like they were looking for something.”

You both left the diner and sped off to your house. When you arrived, Greg was waiting out front and he gave you a hug, receiving a look from Jethro.

“They left just after I hung up with you. Took off in a blue sedan. I’m so glad you weren’t in there. I think I saw a gun.”

“Stay here,” Jethro ordered, pulling out his own gun and Greg’s eyes got wide.

“Don’t worry Greg. He’s a federal agent.”

The two of you waited as Jethro cleared the house and came back outside.

“What do you think he was looking for? Does this have anything to do with that crazy lady shooting you Y/N?” Greg asked as we all walked up the house steps.

“I’m not sure Greg, but I appreciate you calling.”

“Yeah no problem. I enjoy looking out for you,” he replied with a smile. Jethro gave him his classic hard stare and Greg cleared his throat awkwardly, smile fading.

“Alright. Well as long as you’re safe. Have a good-

The front door shut on him before he had a chance to finish his sentence and you looked at Jethro.

“He was just being nice Jet.”

“Mm-hm.”

You went around the semi trashed house, trying to figure out if anything was taken as Jethro picked up a little wooden boat from your shelf and inspected it.

“Your first gift to me. Made out of an old piece of driftwood I think you told me.”

He put it back and walked over to you as you finished putting back the couch cushions together.

“Well I don’t think anything was taken but honestly, I could be sure-

You were promptly interrupted by Jethro’s lips on yours and almost froze in shock.

When he didn’t make a move to pull away, you quickly matched his energy and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer.

You both took steps until you felt your back touch the hallway wall. His kisses moved from your lips to your neck as you pulled his jacket off.

“Bedroom. Now,” he spoke huskily, sparking a fire within you. Grabbing his hand, you led him down the hallway and into your bedroom that had also clearly been tossed. You could’ve cared less as the both of you got undressed, Jethro setting his gun and badge down on your bedside table and pulling you into bed.

He didn’t stay on top too long before grabbing you so that you sat atop of him, easily sinking down onto his more than ready length. You both moaned at the contact and you made quick work, rocking back and forth with Jethro’s big hands gripping your hips.

“Just like that baby,” he grunted, looking up at you as you let your head fall back in ecstasy. His hands traveled so that your breasts were being squeezed and pinched, quickly bringing you closer to your climax.

“I can’t last much longer Jet,” you panted, clenching around him, making his eyes close.

He sat up and pulled you in for another kiss, hands helping keep up your rythmic pace until you fell apart, orgasm hitting you like a freight train. He wasn’t far behind, groaning and holding you still as he filled you up, knowing you loved it when he came inside of you.

Breaths heavy as you both came down from your high, you stayed together, embracing each other. He tiredly peppered kisses on your shoulder and gently ran his fingers across your back, making you shiver.

He chuckled and pressed a kiss against your ear. “You were always so easily overstimulated.”

“Yeah well you make it so easy with your talented multi-tasking.”

Eventually, you two separated, you heading into the bathroom to clean up. When you came out, Jethro was on the phone but handed you your clothes.

“Yup. We’ll be right there.”

He hung up and finished tucking and buttoning up his dress shirt.

“That was McGee. They’ve got Dominic in interrogation. He wants to confess.”

“That’s great,” you said, getting dressed and walking over to him as he clipped his badge on and gun on. Fixing his dishelved hair, you smiled and pecked his lips.

“I hope you’ll still come by even after we nail this bastard.”

“Well someone’s gotta make sure Greg keeps his distance.”

You laughed and followed him out.

[nabi-unveiled]

Nabi Notices (Mar 18, 2025)

It's been something like eight weeks since I decided to stop being a ghost and risk writing up my thoughts on Tumblr. I tagged my first post as "things I might regret", and I still might regret it one day. But today is not that day.

Interacting with everyone has been so much fun. It's enriched my viewing experience, and it's given me an outlet that I didn't know I needed. I'm not new to Asian media or BL by any means. I've watched Asian media for over 20 years and BL since 2017 (plus other queer media prior), but my options for discussing it have been very limited (my brother mostly).

It's just not safe in my family or my community. But man - it really is fun talking about the things you enjoy. There have been some interesting side effects of this venture, but I'll save those thoughts for a future week.

In general, the BL Tumblr community has been so welcoming and affirming. We may disagree on our takes and interpretations. A show one person loves, another may hate. But isn't that the beauty of it? We can actually say those things. We can have conversations about dopamine sprinkles, read too much into symbols and colors, and rant about poorly written dialogue. I continually feel affirmed here.

When I started this blog two months ago, I initially did a "Weekly Wrap-Up" outlining shows I watched and a few thoughts. I really enjoy reading those posts from other people. However, I quickly learned that I don't enjoy writing those posts myself.

I watch a lot of shows during the week - some properly, most as background noise. I'm sporadic at best. My brother calls us human ping-pong balls. In our defense, we only get to talk 1-2 hours a month. There's a lot of ground we need to cover in those calls.

I drop and pick up shows based on my current mood, the nature of my current work assignment, time availability, and if I crash from lack of sleep. Sometimes I binge. Sometimes I space episodes out weeks apart. Anyone who followed me during When It Rains knows I have bouts of hyperfixation. The thought of being "locked into" a show is not for me. After all, the reason I delayed this long in watching the ThamePo finale is personal. It has nothing to do with the show. The typical format of a weekly wrap-up felt like I was setting up an expectation I couldn't keep.

So this made me ponder - what type of "weekly post" would work for me? After much thought, I've decided I'll post my favorite moments of the past week from a variety of categories. The categories may change from time to time. My main goal here is to give myself flexibility and have fun with it. The intro will probably be MUCH shorter in future weeks.

The Things I Noticed This Week:

Fabulous Fit

I love talking style. I love looking at fashion. My phone background changes about every three days and is always a look I liked from an actor or K-pop idol. I still dress in comfy basics more often than not. But this week, the look that caught my eye was this one right here:

My man Eve (Make Up With Mud) is the epitome of dressing how you feel and varying style up. I can't recommend the show, but I'll be watching it to the end solely for this character and his asymmetrical earrings. I fully intend on making a compilation of his looks by the end of my watch. Maybe by then I'll have learned how to properly make GIFs.

Fascinating Find

I go on a lot of deep dives. When a question pops into my brain, I tend to seek out the answer. I've learned a lot of interesting information over the years. Some things I never figure out. This week's fascinating find came from Secret Relationships.

I knew that this move here is referred to as being the black knight/black rose (or dark knight/dark rose). But I wasn't really sure "why" it was called black knight. My search didn't produce exactly what I was looking for other than the black knight/black rose gets a wish from the person they drink for. It's really a different type of drinking game, and you can be asked to do some very embarrassing things if someone drinks for you. It's not really a pure/selfless act in most cases. I mostly knew all that - though we don't see the "wish" aspect itself often in shows. I still found it interesting because...that means Sung-hyun owes Da-on a wish (or does he? Sung-hyun didn't ask him to drink it after all).

Fantastic Frame

I loved this shot in Secret Relationships this week. There's a light on the chessboard in the back highlighting Jae-min's playing games. There's Jae-min wearing pink with his pink plates and making a dinner that looks great just like he looks great to society. But the trash is peeking out from under the counter, because others are beginning to see him for what he is. We know something he doesn't. We are now up high observing him as we wonder what the next move will be.

Fun Fluorish

This category is my "miscellaneous" category. It could be about anything really. Just something that caught my attention. This week it's the name of the bar in P10Ls.

I know that this bar has a perfectly respectable name in Thai. Something along the lines of "village of food"? (my Thai is super weak; feel free to correct). But all I keep seeing is these college boys drinking in a bar that says "Bang On" which in English....yeah. It makes me chuckle every time I see it. I have the mind of a middle schooler at times. It's probably part of the reason I get along so well with my oldest son.

Favorite Fragment

This is the category for a bit of dialogue I particularly enjoyed. This could be dialogue that is serious, humorous, nerdy, etc. It just caught my attention for whatever reason.

I watch Flirt Milk for one reason - Scrappy Doo and his brat tamer (formerly called Swamp Thing). There is SO MUCH wrong with this show and it's definitely a background watch for me, but Scrappy Doo continues to bring me at least one smile (or fun fit) a week so I typically tune in at some point.

My Queue for the Coming Week:

These are the things that I KNOW I will be watching (unless disaster of some kind strikes).

Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo (Finale)

Secret Relationships (Ep 7-8)

Perfect 10 Liners (Ep 22)

Make Up With Mud (Ep 4)

Love for Love's Sake (Ep 1) (It seemed like this show was on everyone's list during the tag game.)

When Life Gives You Tangerines (Ep 1)

I'll also probably watch the ThamePo finale. I've delayed it long enough. Anything else is up to whim and fancy.

[penvisions]

one fish, two fish {chapter 2}

Pairing: Local! Frankie Morales x Transplant! Reader

Summary: Reaching out and another chance encounter undoes the wonderful night you shared with Frankie. But maybe a chance encounter with his friend from the bar can undo all that...

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: canon typical language, canon typical bad luck, angst, unlucky encounters, misunderstandings, reader gets ghosted, then frankie gets ghosted, feelings of inadequacy, recovery, ptsd symptoms, past drug use, na meeting setting, conversations with a sponsor, a lot of feelings, reader has imposter syndrome, rude people, entitlement, workplace politics, degrading language, reader has a callsign nickname but no assigned name, lemme know if i missed any (nicely) please!

A/N: kind of scared to post this, i know i have other fics that are 'due for' an update but inspiration is low as i prepare to start working again and recoup from a camping trip. this'll be the heaviest chapter, wanting to do more fluff for this fic and go back to funny moments and silly times with frankie! thank y'all for reading and as always, hope the days are good to you ♡♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || frankie masterlist || ko-fi

Radio check for Fish, come in Fish.

Read out loud and clear, Angel. Go ahead for Fish.

Roger that, requesting communication.

Request granted. Glad you’re back on the airwaves. Everything okay?

Affirmative.

Copy that. Standby…

Phone poised in hand, you wait for the speech bubble to pop back up, indicating his return to the conversation. But when half an hour, an hour goes by you sigh and load the inactive thing into your bag to continue your errands. After a rather frustrating visit to the phone provider you had chosen, a weak argument of ‘but it was an accident’ when told that the damage to the phone looked purposeful and just in time for the newest phone release, you had sat down at a coffee shop to grab breakfast and set up the new device. Now though, you guessed it was time to get the rest of the day’s errands done.

The paper Frankie had handed you nearly a week ago had found itself tacked to the half corkboard, half whiteboard calendar you kept in the kitchen. Your eyes sliding to it more often than you’d like to admit as you made dashes through in the morning on the way to work or cooked in the evenings.

An entire week goes by and you try to put it out of your mind. New phone heavy in your hands when you settle with it on the edge of the couch, or check it each morning before work, at the office on your lunch break. But no new messages come in, just that once funny copy that, standby. Standby…. Standby….

You had thought things were getting better, but the girls at work were being weird and conversations hushed whenever you walked into the breakroom or entered the bathroom and more than two were together. You hadn’t even bothered to bring up the fact that they ditched you at the bar the night you officially met Frankie…because it didn’t matter.

They had done it and it was over. If it had been intentional then that was on you for not seeing through their false offers of genuine camaraderie. If it had been accidental, then that was on you for not noticing how short their attention spans were. If it had been to give you a chance to go home with the not one, but two guys that approached you the second you were alone, then it was appreciated but a bit vapid of an assumption of what type of person you were.

The atmosphere at work and the novelty of being a new person to the team had quickly vanished. You were now the one whose desk was piled high with files and sticky note reminders of tasks to complete that carried over into the next day in an endless cycle. The routine of it all was so monotonous and draining.

Wake up, breakfast, commute.

Work, lunch, return emails about work that won’t be finished.

Commute, run, prep lunch, make dinner, clean.

Shower, pace the house, sleep.

It was dizzying as much as the errant thoughts of visiting one of the dance clubs downtown and tracking down the sirens call of pills or powder, anything to help you get out of your head and the endlessly swirling thoughts of doing everything wrong.

But you couldn’t, even if relapse was a part of recovery. It was not a part you wanted to end up being complicit with, one you were trying to avoid with every fiber of your being. The feeling of drowning and sinking down to the bottom of the ocean an all too real one that consumes you from the second you wake up to the second you finally pass out at the end of the day. Waterlogged clothing and the weight of water in your lungs too real.

Memories of turbulent water and debris raining down into it all around you only adding to the chaos of your mind.

You could hear the higher pitched prattle of a little girl on the next aisle over and you find yourself smiling despite the exhaustion that makes your body heavy. The basket hanging from your arm is laden with a bunch of bananas, a few other fruits, a carton of coffee creamer, and a pack of gummy sharks. Just one more thing to gather was a box of oatmeal, on the cereal aisle that you turn on.

There’s the broad back of Frankie, standing in front of one of the larger carts the store offers for shoppers. He’s quietly speaking to someone on the other side of the cart, eclipsed by the big form of him. The cart is nearly full though, you can see the colored boxes and wrappers of various foods inside as he leans over to grab a box of plain corn flakes.

You’re about to call out to him, your cheek tingling where he had pressed his plush lips to you nearly two weeks ago now. But a shrill peel of happy laughter from a child that is revealed to be in the seat of his cart.

“Daaaaddy, that’s the wrong one, silly! We need the frosted corn flakes.” Daddy. Dad. Frankie was a father. Your entire body freezes as you’re faced with the reason for his radio silence for the past several days. He had been so…charming and down to earth once the miscommunication had been cleared up but apparently he hadn’t shared with you one of the biggest parts of himself.

“No, mija, we don’t.” His shoulders are shaking with his own laughter as he places the box into the cart and goes to pull it behind him as he nears closer to you in front of the oatmeal. The little girl in his cart turns her eyes toward you, catching sight of your surprised expression.

“Dad! That girl is really pretty, her dress is so cute!”

“Who- Oh.” He’s looking up from the suddenly too bright boxes of cereal with their mascots and large block lettering. His eyes widen and he looks like he’s been caught, something you don’t have the energy to dissect at the moment. But one thing is glaringly obvious, he’s a father and family man. You went out on what was essentially a first date with a man who had a family. The realization slams into you and you’re blindly grabbing the closest box of oatmeal, throwing it into your basket before turning on your feet and fleeing to the checkout lanes.

“A-“ But before he could even get your name out you were down the aisle and turning out of sight, heart beating far too fast and anxiety thrumming. The entire process of checking out and paying for your groceries was a blur, you weren’t even sure if you thanked the cashier or bid her a good day. The slam of your car door was loud as you quickly shut it behind you. The image of him across from you in a diner, the easy conversation and goodnight kiss now tainted with the fact that he hadn’t been responsive and was a father. He could very well have a wife or girlfriend and you hadn’t even thought to ask that of him, his behavior so willing to help clear the air and ensure you had a way home.

Had you misread the vibe?

Had you just not picked up on the signals he was giving you, reading too much into the shared meal?

Had you done wrong by not asking?

The what ifs plagued you as you made your way back home, realizing that you weren’t too far from where he lived, most likely with his family. Your stomach churns and your temples throb, your lunch not settling well in the wake of your fast exit.

A migraine, you’ve worked yourself up to the point of a migraine.

The rest of your evening is spent putting the groceries away, brewing a small pot of coffee, and taking a too hot, too long shower before laying down in total darkness. You don’t flip on a switch for lights for the entire weekend as you try to keep the curtains drawn over the windows and the sounds down to a minimum as the pounding in your head persists. You don’t hear your phone go off in your purse by the front door but even if you had, you wouldn’t have known how to respond through squinting eyes.

When you manage to drag yourself out of bed on Monday, the world is still too bright and loud, but you have to get to work. Calling out would be a bad reflection and you didn’t want to disappoint the boss, someone who knew someone in your family. A favor, that you had been considered for the job in the first place, especially in a new city where you had no experience or connections. The entirety of your screen was grouped messages from your brother, from your coworkers asking after emails you hadn’t responded to. One voicemail from a mechanic to check out the weird sound your car was making when you braked, too tired to look into it yourself. And then there was the block of notifications from Fish.

Two questioning texts in the joking manner dragged on from the previous thread he had abandoned. A single one of your actual name, asking if everything was okay and if you could just message him back to let him know. A missed call and a voicemail.

‘Hey, um, so I realize how that may have looked. At the grocery store. I just…I wanted to apologize- again, for the way our interactions seem to spiral. But I swear to you, I was going to tell you. I get it if…if you don’t want to see me again or feel like you can’t trust me even if you only did for those few hours in the diner. But…I really do like you, Angel. You’re…never mind. Just…reach out if you need anything or a nudge in the right direction for businesses and shops….Bye.”

You weren’t sure what to think, emotions warring with each other inside your chest and mind. The deep velvet of his voice soothing even if you didn’t want it to be. The words never mind repeating in your head over and over again. But the one thing you were sure of was that this job was turning out not to be the one for you. The pile of files stacked on your desk was so tall you could see it across the room, the cubicle partition doing nothing to hide them from view.

The seat is barely squeaking with your weight when your boss is approaching you with a too sweet smile and a big hand on the back of your chair. His fingers brush the hair you’ve kept down today to avoid another wave of the migraine that had kept you down all weekend. The sunglasses you had worn the entire drive downtown had been only mildly helpful. Your hopeful mood for a decent day swirls from your chest and down to the bottom of your stomach, settling heavily.

“My office. End of day.”

“Yes, sir, of course.”

The day is a blur of emails, finishing up file notes that aren’t even under your name, of a salad you forgot to add dressing to, and finally you’re sitting across from the boss with your bag settled in your lap.

“It’s been brought to my attention that you’re having trouble finishing daily tasks. Most are being started either too late in the day or the day after they were due.”

“I’ve submitted everything assigned to me on time. And while I have no problem with the additional tasks, the submissions that are late tend to be the ones dropped off on my desk after I return from lunch.”

“Then perhaps you need to skip lunch in order to ensure the get completed.” He’s not even looking up from the paperwork he’s going over, the scratch of his ballpoint pen never stopping as he makes notes on it and circles large chunks of text.

“Excuse me?”

“There have been a few complaints that you aren’t doing enough to aid your superiors, they rely on new people to help pick up the slack. The files moved under your name for completion often go undone. A few complaints have been made about the language of your email signoffs as well. The phrase ‘passive-aggressive’ has been brought up.”

“So I’m getting reprimanded for work other people aren’t completing? And then scrutinized for the more than professional communications I ensure to include when emailing finished work to the people responsible for it?”

“We all work together here, there is no ‘my work, her work, his work’. We all help each other to get stuff done in a timely manner.”

“There certainly is. I have files assigned to me, Shannon has files assigned to her. Mark has filed assigned to him. Even if their files are dropped off on my desk to be done, that doesn’t negate the fact that they aren’t assigned to me.”

“Then perhaps you need to start taking work home. But at home hours are a privilege, so there will be no compensation for-“

“I quit.”

“Excuse me?” He finally looks up from the paperwork, surprise coloring his features.

“I quit, I’m not about to play office politics with you all. If someone has a problem with my work or the way I speak, then they should confront me and not run off to HR. I haven’t done anything wrong to warrant this write up.”

“I see…” His hands are clasped over that damn document, the pen neatly lined up beside it. He’s schooled his face into one of thinly veiled politeness, but you can see the disappointment in his eyes.

“Yup, thank you for the opportunity.” You go to shoulder your bag, the strap falling from your fingers as his next words. It thuds to the floor, but you don’t reach for it.

“Not much of those for…someone like you.” He’s not even looking at you, his eyes focused on the bag partially opened on the floor. On the prescription bottle peeking out from the now busted zipper.

“A simple ‘thank you for your service’ goes a long way, you know. But it’s nice to know you don’t really give a fuck what I’ve sacrificed for you all to sit here in your offices all day and make fun of me for how I dealt with the things I’ve see and experienced.”

“Most people don’t turn to hard drugs to deal with the difficulties of life.” The words sting as they cut into your chest, the judgement and disgust aching. It’s always shocking, the ways in which people react to the way your life had played out. The way you had no choice in how it played out. The drugs hadn’t been your choice nor your preferred poison. The allure of them had been born of a too strong prescription, written for you at the same time the paperwork for your retirement had been drawn up.  

“And what’s so hard about your life? The fact that you’re sleeping with your secretary and you don’t want your wife to find out? Oh, the cliché of it all. You dug that hole yourself, put yourself in that situation.”

“And you put yourself in the situation of serving during a war.” But you’re even less prepared for the words as they slice into you, digging deeper than the first. You’re sure blood is visible through the silk of your office appropriate top, the blazer over your shoulders allowing for the damage to be seen across the pristine desk.

“Fuck you.”

“Don’t put this job down on your resume, you won’t be getting any kind words from me should another employer call.” The dismissal is expected, the call he’s sure to make to inform your family friend is as well. A call to you in the evening already draining what little energy you had and it hadn’t even happened yet.

“Gotcha.” Chair clattering as you stand, you don’t even return to your desk or retrieve your Tupperware from the sink in the breakroom. You feel the eyes of too curious people follow you as you cross the open space, whispers sprouting as soon as you pass. Fuck them, fuck all of them. You need a job but not bad enough to put up with whatever fresh hell was going on there.

You’re blinded by the brightness of the outside world when you push through the front door, the lady at the front desk bidding you a good day in too chipper of a mood for you current ability to handle. Your breath is punched from you as you collide with something solid. You feel hands grip your upper arms and help prevent you from careening to the ground.

“Woah, hey. Oh! You’re the woman Fish was talking about! The one from the bar.” You glimpse that tightly curled, dark hair over a handsome face as you steady yourself and step back. Brown eyes so bright in the sunlight they remind you of Frankie’s in the fluorescents of the diner and your stomach flutters.

But it’s his friend, not him. Right outside your former place of employment, the attempt at a new life that was quickly crumbling from under your feet.

“Yeah, your buddy is a real piece of work.” Tone scathing, you can’t help the way it curls your lips as it’s given breath. Ire at yourself and shame at the way you had hoped for the smallest moment that he would turn out to be something good filling your chest uncomfortably.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He’s taken aback by the bite in your tone, his easy smile turning upside down, jaw clenching tight as he watches you with narrowed eyes. Defensive, not something you were willing to deal with as you feel your fingers twitch and your stomach drop. The flare of emotion dissipating as soon as it had flared to life.

“Just…forget it. I’m sorry, I just quit my job and I’m a little…”

“Let’s grab a coffee, I’m sure we can work out something.” He’s so earnest, his dark brown eyes catching the afternoon rays of sun. Such a small, well-meaning smile making your heart soften and your quick judgement of the man back at the bar melt away.

“I don’t know you and you don’t know me, what-“

“I work for the PD and one of the guys in our friend group, he works for the military still. Does recruitment and works in the VA. I know we need-“

“I’m not interested in another tour, I’m retired. Probably wouldn’t even qualify.” You cut him off still, unable to even begin to entertain the thought of donning a uniform again. Of the slick updo you had mastered to pull all of your hair up and out of the way. Your skin prickles as the hot feeling of shrapnel embedding itself into your side blooms, all to real as you stand in the middle of the sidewalk downtown.

“No, no, god no. I wouldn’t either to be honest. But depending on your skill set I know they need mechanics and technicians. Explosives expert, right? Means you’ve got engineering skills.”

“How do you know about that?”

“Fish was very chatty after your little diner date.”

“That was three weeks ago.” Denial is on the tip of your tongue at his description, but that’s what it had been: a date. With a man who hadn’t told you of his family.

“Yeah, and he’s been a bit of a bummer since you haven’t contacted him since.”

“Look,-“

“Santiago Garcia. Pope was my callsign. Whichever you prefer.” His large hand is warm as it reaches for the one you were trying to wave him off with. Electricity sparks and you feel it travel up your arm, momentarily shocking you before you pull your hand away. A sheepish smile and mumbled apology from him at the mishap lightens the mood a little, something about how the shirt he’s wearing has been making it a common occurrence today. The need to go shopping for more dryer sheets humanizing him further.

“Look, Santiago. I appreciate what you’re trying to do but I just really want to go home and eat my weight in Chinese takeout, okay?”

“Okay, I get that. Believe me, I more than get that, but-“ He’s pulling out his wallet, a thick card is being offered to you with his name and contact information printed on it. “Just consider it, yeah? We all gotta stick together, civilians don’t understand even if they try to. We can find you work, something that’ll keep your hands busy and your mind occupied. Office work doesn’t suit you, you shouldn’t have to subject yourself to it, okay?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Good enough for me, hermosa.” And with another charming smile, he’s back on his way down the street, his destination unknown to you. Sighing, you pocket the card and make your way around the building, waving at the security guard that walked up and down the block throughout the day. Your truck is dirty, washing it pushed back further and further as a storm closes in on the coast and inevitably travels inland toward you. The thought of heavy rain and whipping winds turning you off from the waste of water, suds, and an afternoon you could spend looking at things to do around the city.

When you go to turn the key, nothing happens. No clicking, no beeping of the dash lighting up, nothing.

“Fuck.”

Shrugging out of your blazer, you fix your hair up in a messy bun to get it out of your face and pop open the hood. But it’s useless, everything looks to be in working order. Leaving only the possibility of the alternator or battery having died and left you stranded. You’re sure you have a reader for the battery…at home in the garage. The card shoved in your back pocket burns into your skin, prompting you to pull it away and dial the numbers printed in a nice font.

Two rings and it picks up.

“Santigo, it’s Angel.” He doesn’t ask what’s wrong or if you’re okay. Only your location.

“I’m just down the street, turning back around now. The parking lot just behind the building?”

“Yes, I- thank you, Santiago.”

“No problem at all, hermosa.”

“You said you need engineers? Where exactly?” He’s looked over the mechanics of the vehicle just as you did, diagnosing the problem exactly the same. Something unable to be fixed at the moment. He glances up at you under his long lashes as he types out something on his phone, an instant response buzzing.

“Someone should be here in a few, my friends are just down a few blocks. One of them owns a gym and we hit up the dive bar across from it every Monday.”

Nodding, you try to recall the buildings he’s talking about. But you haven’t explored as much as you’ve wanted too. Throwing yourself into work and trying to play catch up on building secondary savings. The help to purchase a home welcome, but the house needed work that was only discounted, not covered.

“There’s a flight school not too far outside the city, where recruits are sent. They need some help that isn’t gonna up and leave them, assignments are up and they need someone reliable.”

“I don’t know how to fly.” Fleeting hope deflates and you really wish your emotions weren’t so easily pulled from you. The weekend you spent hiding away proved to have been more draining than you anticipated. But he soothes the furrow of your brow with two fingers and a hint of his teeth as he smiles at you, so close you can feel the heat of chest.

“They’ve got a few solid instructors. Fish has been pulling doubles doing the repairs and the lessons. They need a mechanic and an engineer, something tells me you’d be the perfect fit.”

You can only see the genuine way in which he’s willing to help reflected back at you, his eyes open and his smile charming. A smile is spreading across your own lips falters as the sound of a vehicle turning into the lot catches your attention. There are two figures visible through the windshield. A blonde man is backing into the spot your truck faces, concentration steeling his features. And from underneath the bill of a worn hat and through a pair of dark aviators, Frankie Morales is staring at you.

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[camillomea]

Prt 2

Jason was having a shitty day, a shitty week, a shitty month, and a shitty year. Maybe a shitty year and a half. Yeah, Jason was definitely mourning the loss of his brother, who he could never talk to properly, and he was probably one of the reasons his brother was dead.

***

Barbara was on comms. She was watching the LOA plane from the camera. "Batman, I counted 3 people, but comms can't be infiltrated and the back of the plane doesn't show the inside of any scans. The inside is full of extreme security," he said. Bruce said, "What the hell is Ra's plan this time?" Damian said, "There's been no news since the incident with the league a year ago. Even my mom can't contact them." Cass said, "It's like they're arguing over comms." She was watching the people in the pilot's section of the plane from the roof. Jason said, "There's probably someone or something in the back." Dick said, "It's like they know we're here." Damian said, "Dad, what's the plan?" Bruce said "Let's wait. If they were planning something they would have run away or wouldn't have come so visibly. Besides Damian you would have heard from them too". Damian tried not to notice but breathed a sigh of relief. He landed next to Cass and looked at the people in the pilot section "I know them. Oh you know them too. Pru, Z and Owens" he said. Jason said "Oh fuck those maniacs. What the hell are they doing here" Dick said "Do you know them" Damian said "Yeah. Grandpa trusts them. They are talented and strong. When Grandpa decides to hire someone to protect someone he usually assigns them. They were the ones who protected me when I was little" Jason said "I know Talia trusts them too. But we haven't heard from them in almost a year and a half" Damian said "I'll tell mom" Barbara said "I'll try to contact them. That way we can find out what they want" Bruce said "Okay. Do this" Damian waited without taking his eyes off the plane. He barely blinked. Jason said "They definitely haven't changed much". When the door opened Bruce said "Red Hood come with me we'll find out what they want". *** When Pru got off the plane she saw "No skunk it's been a while" she said. Jason rolled his eyes "Hello to you too Pru. Is there a reason you came without warning?" Z said "Ah we're escorting someone you know the usual stuff" Robin came down next to them "Mom we haven't heard from you for a year and a half. The entire LOA has been on communication lockdown for a year and a half. What's going on" he said. Owens said "Calm down kid. Things got messy". Jason asked "How". The three of them looked at each other. Jason said "Talk". Pru sighed "War. Actually wars. The Loa has been in chaos for the last year and a half" he said. Damian said "WHAT". Jason "What war or wars! Not one?! Where did more than one come from when we didn't know about one? How many" he said angrily. Z said, "Two. But it doesn't matter. Right now, LOA is in post-war recovery mode." He was constantly checking the clock and time. Jason said, "Explain what war!" Owens sighed, "We will. But first, can we focus on the main reason we're here?" Bruce said. "And what's this?" The three of them looked at each other. Owens put his finger on his earpiece and said, "Boss, the sun's completely set. Are you completely ready to leave?" *** When Tim heard Owens's voice, he was completely ready but also nervous. He missed his family, but he also remembered what happened the last time they saw each other. He had a green cloak on. It was a dark green. He was wearing a completely white helmet on his face, it was like a mask on the front. "I'm ready," he said, putting on the hood of the cloak. This was Ra's gift to him, it would protect him to a certain extent if he ever got exposed to the sun. While he was adjusting his cloak, Ra's words before leaving came to mind, "Don't forget to take care of yourself, child. You can always come here. There will always be a home and shelter for you here." Tim believed him. In fact, he knew that it was his home. He knew that he would always be safe there. He had started to hear voices from outside, locks and gears turning. He turned to the creature and took it in his arms. The creature purred. .

***

[one-piece-aus]

Unbottle Your Emotions

Eutass Kid x Reader (Part 1)

Ahoy readers! Some of you who read my Whumptober works know I made two short whumps of Kid in a highschool AU and I can tell you enjoyed those angsty works. I've dug around in my drafts and found this, I wrote it a few years ago but nonetheless, it's the beginning of this story so I thought why not post it? Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Enjoy ^-^

"Alright, class," Makino addressed you and your classmates once she finished attendance. "I have a partner project for you to work on for the next two weeks. Before you ask, I have already assigned who you'll be working with."

You glanced over to Hawkins, if you were lucky you'd be partnered with him. The two of you were loners who stuck together. You found it easier to work with him since you kinda were on the same level when it came to that. He made eye contact with you and knew you wanted him to check his chances of being paired with you. He drew his cards under his desk before looking back to you and shaking his head. You sighed, pulling up your hood and resting your head on your arms, you continued listening to your English teacher.

"You'll be choosing a topic to write about, whether it's a review of a movie or a poem about birds, I want the two of you to make it together. This will be a presentation assignment so make sure to capture your listeners' attention and practice what you'll be reading." Makino paused, going over to her laptop, and clicking a few keys before turning on the projector. "Here are your partners."

Once the screen had been displayed your eyes scanned over the list to find your name. You saw Hawkins got paired with Cavendish, you almost felt bad for him until your eyes landed on who you paired with. The person Makino assigned you to work with was Eustass Kid.

He was the most hostile guy at school, it was no secret the guy had anger issues and was completely obnoxious. You avoided him like the plague for two reasons: 

1. You were a good student and just wanted to learn, obnoxious kids disrupt the silence and your ability to learn. 

2. You could only tolerate someone directing their anger at you for so long before crying; not that they made you feel sad, but because you felt anger at them and wished to shout back at them to defend yourself, yet you held your tongue back since you didn't want to cause further trouble; that bottled up emotion stressed tears out of you. 

You hated crying because that made you think you appeared hurt and weak when in reality you were angry and frustrated, the more you felt it the more the tears came. That's why tried to quickly get out of the predicaments if you were ever in them.

The quickest way you dealt with someone's anger and got out of the problem was ignoring them if they were just insulting you or apologizing respectfully if you did something to piss them off. Since you pulled off these things well without appearing to be phased and having acknowledgement of the issue with genuine respect, those in school weren't aware you had a limit. However, you witnessed how Kid gets whenever someone pisses him off, you knew there'd be no way you could keep the bottle closed if he directed his anger at you, so that's why you always duck away when you saw Kid coming.

Internally you panicked when you saw you were assigned to be his partner. You didn't know how you managed to get this far acting as a ghost while being in the same classes as him this semester. You usually weren't in a corner or by the window, you were near the front of the room, second row and just two desks away from being in the center of the class, great for viewing the board. Perhaps you were a ghost to Kid since he sat around the back near the window.

Kid raised his head and looked around, searching for you, you pulled your hood further over you and lowered your head to face away from Kid. "Oi, Teach! Which one's the one I'm working with?" You heard Kid ask, I guess he really didn't know who you are.

You listened to the footsteps of the teacher, drawing towards you just as a brush does to the paints on a pallet. You feel her gentle hand rub your head, maybe thinking you were asleep, you did come in class yawning. You hesitantly lifted your head, looking up at Makino and seeing her smile. Oh, bless her heart for being kind and welcoming, wishing to create a pleasant and welcoming place for her class, but that's what's going to bite you in the ass because it meant you couldn't get out of this since she wanted her class to be comfortable with each other. You sighed, making it a sound like a yawn, and sat up but still kept your hood on.

"This is [L/n], Eustass," Makino told Kid, gesturing to you before she went to another student who had raised their hand.

You didn't say a word, instead, you took out your notes and reviewed them to see which ones you needed for the project. The daunting sound of Kid approaching your desk only made you read through your notes more frantic until he sat down in the chair in front of you with a scowl on his face. You looked away from your notes, masking your uneasy state as you finally spoke to him.

"Hi! Sorry- I was searching for the notes we'll probably need!" You apologized then glanced back at the papers and began putting the ones you didn't need back in your binder. You just needed to get on his good side, if you didn't irritate him you two could get this project over with and never have to speak to each other again, that's how classmates go.

"At least you seemed to know what you're doing," Kid responded, eyes gazing over the many notes you've jotted down as you slipped them away in the binder.

"Uh- you can pick whatever you wanna do for the project if you want," you told him and put your binder into your bag. "I'm uh- fine with whatever unless you wanted to ask the teacher to work with a friend instead, then I'll find a topic to work on by myself."

"None of my friends are in this class," he shrugged and folded his arms. "Besides I know Makino wouldn't change my partner even if I asked, I'm just glad it's not strawhat I'm working with again."

"Strawhat? Luffy?" You tilted your head, not recalling Luffy being in your class.

"He was in one of my classes last semester and we had Makino as our teacher," Kid explained as put his arms on your desk, taking up half the space.

"Oh..."

"You know the guy?" Kid inquired, raising a non-existent eyebrow at you.

"Not really."

"Good, he's annoying and so are his friends."

You sweatdropped unsure how to respond to his complaint. Normally you'd let some continue their rants until they were done, especially if they had anger issues you didn't want to trigger them, but you wanted to get everything figured out before class was over.

"So did you have something in mind?" You asked getting back on topic.

"We're not writing poetry, that's for damn sure," he grumbled, pushing his cheek onto his knuckled fist.

'How ironic, that's probably what Cavendish and Hawkins are,' you thought to yourself as you glanced at the two blonds. Cavendish seemed to be boasting about myself again, maybe being partnered with Kid wasn't so bad.

"Have you listened to any metal songs?" Kid inquired, throwing his idea out there.

"Yeah..."

"Really?" he questioned, not believing you.

"Yeah."

Kid's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, really?!"

"Uh yeah." How many times were you going to have to repeat yourself?

"Huh, I didn't think you'd listen to that kind of music."

You shrugged. "My dad got me into metal and rock when I was younger. Better than what plays on the radio."

"You don't have to tell me twice. Idiots that listen to what they play on there now don't know what real music is."

You chuckled, agreeing with Kid, maybe he wasn't so bad. "I guess we found our topic. Now we need to figure out how we'd be writing it." You flipped over one of your papers and started writing down a few methods. "Fan letter to the artist, a review of the song, analysis of the lyrics-"

A loud buzz rang throughout the school and repeated itself, you cringed at the obnoxious noise blaring in your ear. Someone must've started a fire in the bathroom again. Your class filed out of the room, merging into the sea of students exiting the building. You wanted to cover your ears as the noise became louder in the halls but you didn't want to appear like a weirdo using your hands, you had wireless earbuds but that wasn't something to take out in the stampede you were in since you could drop one. You just had to suffer internally.

Once outside, you went and stood by Hawkins while waiting for the fire department to find the fire. You rubbed your ears now that you were away from the crowd and just had your fellow loner next to you.

"Acting like a cat again, [Y/n]?" Hawkins asked, seeing you paw your ears. He often compared to his cat, Faust.

"Yeah, my ears just hurt from the noise." You despised noise.

"You should listen to some soothing frequencies after instead of your regular choice of music if you want your ears to recover properly," Hawkins advised.

"Ehhhh... I might have to this time."

"Oh?" Hawkins glanced at you, inquiring you for further details. You didn't usually listen to him when he advised you to give your ear a break from your music, hence why he grew curious to understand why you were thinking of taking his suggestion.

"I might be hearing more noise today at school but once I get home I'll probably be able to listen to it."

"And what makes you think you'll be hearing more noise?"

"I don't know, maybe-"

"OI! [L/N]!" Kid shouted to get your attention as he marched over to you.

You flinched at his voice in that tone, and the irritated expression on his face made you think you did something wrong. You turned to him and held your arm behind your back.

"Sorry, what did you need Kid?"

"Give me your phone."

"What?" You feel your chest begin to burn and you know your forehead will begin to paint itself red.

"I need it to put my contact in your phone."

You were going to push back but you folded your tongue seeing the impatient scowl Kid wore. Not questioning him further, taking your phone out of your pocket. Unlocking it, you hastily clicked over to your contact app and handed it over to the redhead before you could see him grow more impatient.

Kid, just about to add a new contact, couldn't help but notice how you only had five contacts on your phone. Only three out of the five weren't family-related. Did you just not add people to your phone? He scoffed the thought off, it wasn't his business. He began typing his number into your phone.

You wanted to ask why Kid needed to put his contact in your phone, however, your bottled emotion prevented you from speaking your question. Kid seemed pissed enough, you weren't going to attempt to do anything that might push him off the edge. You shifted your footing, the expression on your face displaying your unease.

"Perhaps you should tell why you're adding your number to her phone," Hawkins spoke up for you.

"Fuck off Basil, it's not your business," Kid barked.

"It may not be mine but it is [Y/n]'s business to know since it is her phone," Hawkins stated unphased by Kid. Oh, how you wished to be as stoic as Hawkins. Granted, you did a good job ninety percent of the time but it crumbled easily in the presence of hostile or authoritative anger.

Kid glared at Hawkins for a moment before he handed you back your phone, his attention now on you. "Send me a text," he instructed you and pulled out his phone.

You weren't sure what exactly to send so you just typed 'Hi' into the chat. A ding came from Kid's phone and he checked the message to make sure it came from you. Comparing his screen to yours, you felt your hands brush against each other. The chills surfing across your body turned your body pale from how uncomfortable you felt to Kid standing this close to you. You wanted to isolate yourself in your room, though when Kid moved away you couldn't help but be grateful.

"Alright, I got it." Kid put his phone in his pocket and started walking away. "Text me about our project later."

You stood there confused with the hidden parts of your head burning red. You didn't understand why Kid confronted you like that when he could've easily asked when the two of you got back to class. You stared in the direction Kid left until a concerned hand rested on your shoulder and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Glancing over, you met Hawkins' crimson eyes.

"The cards said you needed a comforting hand," Hawkins said unsure if he helped. "There was an 80% chance you would've shed tears if not."

Right, Hawkins is the only one who knew of your bottled frustration; he saw it happen when he walked in the middle of you being scolded by a teacher. Anyone else would've thought you were upset and sad but he could read the frustration and anger written on your face, and he drew the cards to double-check. The two of you never spoke of it at first, but after you began to hang around, and he saw it a few more times, he offered to be there for you if you ever needed a quiet place and a listening ear.

"Once the firemen are done we'll be in second period," Hawkins informed you, shifting the topic away from what just happened. He knows you don't like to stay stuck in your conflicted emotions.

"So that's why Kid did that..." You glance at the phone in your hand to see the time; English is over. Slipping it into your pocket, you groaned, realizing something. "Hhhhh, that means we still have to get our stuff from English... We have drama next class, right?"

"Hmm." Hawkins nodded.

"Can you please get my stuff, I don't think I can face Kid again at the moment."

"Very well, [Y/n]."

"Thanks, I'll treat you to lunch."

"Does that mean we'll go to the vegan restaurant?" You've known Hawkins long enough to tell the subtle delight in his monotone.

"For doing this-" You turned to him, a grateful small smile drawn on your face. "Yes."

Tag: @lil-skelly-bones

[bcacstuff]

The ™ Files

Already a bit ago I was checking for some updates in the trademark files, I just didn't get to write about it. So let's see what's going on at the trademarks.

Some updates

Of course The Sassenach in the class for alcoholic beverages was already filed and registered years back. But there are some updates on it. Not all that exciting though it might depend on the country you live in and how much you're eager to get it.

Since October 2024 the trademark is approved and the brand protected in Australia. So, I don't know if they already found a distributor other than the 'smuggler'. But the smuggler most likely can retire soon, and perhaps some 'sassy' events are in the works in the (near) future for the Aussie fans... 🤷‍♀️

Brazil has been filed as well, but is awaiting decision,

No changes for the European Market (EM). Germany as we know has filed opposition succesfully, which means the brand is not protected in the EM as a whole. For the other EU countries protection of the brand is individually granted though. (which means technically they can sell it in other EU countries but need to protect their brand in every country separately as it can not be protected under the flag of the EUIPO).

Something New

Remember his story after Beyonce launched her ow whisky brand?

Jokingly? Hmm or maybe not so jokingly! Clearly someone got the task consulting the attorney about it. Now you can not trademark a bottle (of course) and we all know how 'his' design wasn't that original to begin with. But the smart attorney came up with a satisfying solution by filing a Logo Mark for the bottle.... 🤭

Filed just a couple of weeks after his sarcastic story and awaiting to be assigned to an examiner.

Beyonce's attorneys wont lose a second sleep over it though, it's only a logo and not the bottle design itself that has been filed for a trademark. Now if they were to print T-shirts or caps with that drawing...

Although the logo has been filed in class 33 (alcoholic beverages, except beer) so not even in the class for clothing!^^

More Brewing

Talking about beer! That was actually the trademark I was more curious about and made me look up what was going on.... and that one made me scratch my head a couple of times (and chuckle as well)

Remember this post where I informed you about the filing of the SS trademark in the class 'Beer', while the trademark they already had in that class (but combined with the class for travelguides) was abandoned.

Also note the Serial Number: 88244818 (read on to learn why)

Now the status for the new trademark filed on 20 Feb 2024 (this date is important) in the class beer... see for yourself:

The trademark has the status 'On hold'. Which means there is an issue that ceases further actions by the office and needs to be resolved first.

So time to investigate the issue at hand! Which can be found in the suspension letter received by the owner (and listed in the documents of the USPTO). It told me that:

USPTO database searched; prior-filed potentially conflicting pending application(s) found. The trademark examining attorney searched the USPTO database of registered and pending marks and found no conflicting registered marks that would bar registration under Trademark Act Section 2(d). 15 U.S.C. §1052(d); TMEP §704.02. However, a mark(s) in a prior-filed pending application(s) may bar registration of applicant's mark.

And the mark that was filed prior that may bar registration is:

Right a registration filed by the Angry Scotsman Brewing on 29 May 2020 - 3 months after GGC filed their registration for the mark in the class Beer (serial number 88244818) and therefor the status for the Angry Scotsman's mark got rightfully on hold! Even though the Angry Scotsman opposed the decision (there has been correspondence going on between this applicant and the examiner) at the end the Angry Scotsman's application was put on hold and checked periodically.

Reason for their suspension was the 'prior filing by the application with serial No. 88244818. But as we now know, that application was abandoned since March 18, 2024. GGC filed a new mark in the class beer.... which is now on hold because.... right, the Angry Scotsman's application was filed prior than the new application of GGC....

Do you see why it made me scratch my head? If GGC had not abandoned their mark, there would have been no issue. But as they already reached the maximum extensions for submitting the Statement of Use, I figure they had no other option here.

What makes me wonder now is how this will end, as both applications seems to be stuck in an impasse. The last suspension check for the Angry Scotsman's mark is listed on February 1, 2024, a month before the trademark of GGC was abandoned. So theoretically it should be not be in the way for their mark anymore, though I think there might still be an issue of likelihood of confusion even though the original trademark The Sassenach owned by GGC now isn't filed in the class for beer, only the new one that is filed after the Angry Scotsman's mark.

Note that a mark with the status 'On Hold' is not a refusal for the mark. It means the mark is pending as the office will not proceed until the issue at hand is resolved. In fact it is even recommended to use the trademark while it is pending, as this helps trademark owners demonstrate commercial use of the mark and helps solidify their rights to it.

Which is exactly what the Angry Scotsman Brewing did, and demonstrated to the USTPO as evidence.

source

Though visiting their website I don't see the Sassenach Beer listed anymore nor does it come up in a search on their website.

To be continued I guess? I will keep an eye on it.

Anyway, to be complete, the mark was filed in Europe and Australia as well in the beer class. In Europe all countries except Germany protection is granted. Germany (and with that the EM) is 'Provisionally Refused'. Which means, there is still time to oppose the decision, but imo it will go the same way as the mark registered in the alcoholic beverages class. Australia granted protection though.

To top it all off, while searching things you always stumble on other things, right! Did you know there is already a Sassenach Beer?

Yes, there is. It's a company from Argentina selling this. Even have an IG (since June 2020) and FB account advertising frequently

Not very expensive though, according to their website 🤭

I'll leave it here, I think you got enough for the weekend! 😂