#the company realizes this is not the case and takes the person for observation | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stillmonsterz · 6 months

Text

all i gotta do

for this anon!

pairing: jake x reader

genre: fluff (?), humor (???), smut

summary: it's your first day at work and you're nervous. however, your trainer is going to show you why you were nervous for the wrong reasons. one week with jake sim will either make you quit the job or never leave.

contains: unprotected sex, exhibitionism, swearing, incest mention, PTSD mention, i try to be "funny" and make "jokes"

word count: 4.4k (unproofread)

---

DAY ONE

You stepped inside of your new workplace apprehensively; you hadn’t felt so nervous since your first day of university. Wiping your palms on your pants, you made eye contact with the receptionist and smiled wanly.

“Hello,” you said, resting your fingertips on the counter. “I’m the new hire. I was wondering where I could find…Jake Sim? He’s supposed to be my…” The term that had been used in the introductory email the company had sent to you eluded you.

“Your buddy,” the receptionist said flatly. “Your Park Corp buddy.”

“Yes. That.”

“Jake Sim is on the fifth floor. I take it you’ll be working in data analysis as well?”

You nodded. “Yes, exactly.”

The receptionist smiled at you, but it belied a certain cold humor. “Good luck.”

“Yeah, you too.” As you walked away, you realized your blunder and squeezed your eyes shut.

–

The fifth floor of the office building had all of the markings of a corporation attempting to reel in more younger workers. There was a vending machine as soon as you walked in, the cubicles were arranged as part of an open concept floor plan, and the walls were plastered with positive, empty aphorisms. You scanned the area, wondering which of the people hunched over their computers was Jake.

Footsteps echoed behind you, and when you turned around you saw a slight, enthusiastic-looking young man with a shock of shaggy brown hair approaching you. In his hands he held two coffee cups.

“Hey, newbie,” he said with some affection. “Got you a coffee.”

You took the cup, surprised by his vivacity. “Thank you…”

“Jake,” he finished, holding his hand out. “Jake Sim.”

You shook his hand as firmly as you could and introduced yourself.

“I know,” he said cheerfully. “Don’t worry, I like to do a little stalking before we meet a new hire. Although…” his face grew serious. “You really shouldn’t post such…provocative pictures on your Insta. Someone could get ideas.”

Your face blanched and your fingers gripped the coffee cup. “What?”

Jake’s face broke out into a smile. “Just fuckin’ with you. Sorry, I like to razz all the new hires. Makes me feel big.”

His grin was so wide, you felt compelled to smile too. He nudged you and jerked his thumb in the direction of the cubicles. “Let me show you around, PCB.”

You blinked, then it dawned on you. “Park Corp buddy…?”

“So observant,” Jake said, amused. “Come on.”

You followed him around as he explained where everything was: the copy room, the coffee machine, the water dispenser, the popcorn machine, your cubicle (situated in the middle of the room, to your chagrin), his cubicle (tucked neatly in the corner).

Then he taught you how to use the software. Thanks to your university courses, it wasn’t difficult to learn. Jake’s playful personality also gave way to a maturity that you hadn’t expected. He carefully walked you through the program step by step.

“I’ll leave you these tasks to work on,” he said, pulling up a document he had pre-made. “If you get stuck, just come get me, okay? I’m right in the corner.”

You thanked him for his assistance and started working on the tasks he had given you. It wasn’t challenging, so much as it was tedious. Still, you persevered.

At least, until you heard him approach you again.

“Hey,” Jake said, sitting beside you. His eyes darted around the room. “You were supposed to come get me.”

“You told me to do that if I needed you,” you replied, somewhat confused.

“Yeah,” Jake said slowly, “in case you feel the overwhelming urge to make Jakey’s day and let him help you with something so he can avoid doing his boring ass work. You don’t even understand the basics of being a PCB, do you?”

“You’re using me,” you said, waving an accusatory finger at him.

“Can you blame me?” he retorted. “Sometimes I can…I can feel my soul leaking from my pores.”

You giggled, and he squinted at you in mock annoyance. “There’s no way you’re laughing at me,” he said, trying to fight a smile. “I’m dying, turning into a corpse, and you’re laughing.”

You shrugged. “At least you’ll die at the prime of your life.”

Jake’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. “Oh, you think I’m in my prime, huh?”

“That’s not what I me-,”

“You’re hitting on me,” Jake said, leaning in. He blinked at you like a puppy.

You leaned away, your cheeks feeling warm. “I’m not.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you were,” he said softly.

You were about to say something else, something intelligent and witty, but one of your new coworkers approached the two of you.

“Couldn’t wait a day before sexually harassing the newbie, could you?” He was tall, pale, and had a shit-eating grin that could rival Jake’s. Unlike Jake, who was dressed in a blue button-down and slacks, this person wore a suit with a silky black tie.

Jake leaned away from you, balking at the accusation. “I am not sexually harassing her,” Jake said, clutching his heart. “I wasn’t even normal harassing her.”

“He wasn’t,” you chimed in.

“Don’t cover up for this louse,” Sunghoon said, shaking his head at Jake. “Look at you, corrupting one of our brightest already with your salacious comments. Weren’t you supposed to be writing up a report on the-,”

“You hear this jerkoff?” Jake said, interrupting. “He puts on a little suit and starts using words like ‘louse’ and ‘salacious’, like we’re not in data analysis.”

“I am a data architect,” Sunghoon said, playfully slamming his hand on your desk. “And I will be treated like one, damn it.”

“Quit it,” Jake said, putting his arms around you and hugging you close to him. “You’re scaring my PCB.”

“Your PCB is going to get PTSD if you keep touching her,” Sunghoon replied drolly, crossing his arms.

Jake grinned. “My PCB is going to get PTSD if I do PDA with her?”

Sunghoon said, “Good one,” and they laughed and high-fived. You stared at them incredulously, noting that Jake’s arm was still wrapped around your shoulder.

“Sorry,” you said slowly, “but I’d like to do my work…”

Jake withdrew his arm and tsked under his breath, standing up. “Great going, Sunghoon,” he hissed. “Now she hates you.”

“She hates you, idiot,” Sunghoon retorted as they walked away.

You slumped down in your chair, already feeling exhausted. You worked straight through your lunch break, and as you commuted home you wondered how the rest of your training week would go.

–

DAY TWO

The next day, you felt a little more equipped to navigate your new job. In your purse, you brought some items with which to decorate your desk.

You came into work early, noting that very few people show up at this time. Perfect. With careful precision, you arranged your new trinkets on your desk; a magnetic calendar for your cubicle wall, a little plush doll, a notebook, a nice mousepad, and a little jar of chocolates.

As you’re turning your computer on, you heard three male voices approaching your desk. Two of which you recognize.

“There she is,” you heard Jake say quietly, “isn’t she cute?”

You looked up and waved. There was Jake, wearing a button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Sunghoon, wearing another crisp suit. And a third person wearing an oversized collared shirt with dark blue jeans, looking you up and down.

“You’re here early,” Jake said cheerfully. “Excited for work?”

“I just wanted to decorate my desk,” you explained, proudly displaying your newly decorated workplace.

The three men politely admired your table. Then Sunghoon nudged the third man in the ribs. He cleared his throat.

“I’m Heeseung,” he said, awkwardly raising his hand. “Heeseung Lee.”

“Nice to meet you,” you replied, holding your hand out.

You shook hands with him, and Sunghoon snorted. “I didn’t get a handshake from you.”

“You also didn’t introduce yourself to me…”

Sunghoon looked away, the tips of his ears going red. “Right. I suppose that was my folly. Apologies.”

Jake leaned down and whispered, “Isn’t he such a pretentious dick?” in your ear. You suppressed another giggle as you stuck your hand out.

Sunghoon shook it firmly. “Park Sunghoon,” he said with a smile. “Data architect.”

“You told her that already,” Jake said.

“And I told you to shut up several times, not that you ever listened,” Sunghoon retorted.

You glanced at Heeseung, and he just shrugged at you. “They can’t stop,” he said, glancing between the two of them. “It’s hard-coded into their DNA to be idiots in front of cute girls.”

Jake squinted at Heeseung. “Oh, you think she’s cute? Are you into her or something?”

Heeseung raised his hands in self-defense, backing up. “No, no, not at all.”

You sighed. “Could…could I go ahead and start my work?”

Jake shook his head and stalked away from your table. “She fucking hates you, you know that?” he said, lightly pushing Heeseung.

Later that day, as you’re packing up to head home, you hear footsteps that were already becoming familiar.

“Hey,” Jake said quietly, “the guys and I were wondering if you wanted to eat with us at lunch tomorrow?”

You blinked up at him. “No kidding?”

“Yeah. We want you to feel welcome here,” he said, resting his hand on your shoulder.

A smile spread across your face, and you nodded. “Sure. Sounds like it'll be a lot of fun.” Like seeing monkeys in the zoo.

Jake grinned, patting your shoulder. “Awesome! Awesome, awesome.” He paused then, placing his hand in his pocket. “One other thing,” he said slowly.

“What’s that?” you tilted your head at him.

“Well, you know, you don’t have to dress so formally,” he said, gesturing at your outfit. “Unless you’re trying to be Sunghoon or something. You can dress business casual.”

You looked down at yourself; your outfit was pretty formal and rigid. “All right,” you said, “I’ll be nice and casual tomorrow.”

“Sounds great,” Jake said, biting his lip slightly.

–

DAY THREE

Work already felt much more comfortable. Besides the three coworkers you had already met, the rest of the employees ranged from amicable to ambivalent, so you never felt tense. Occasionally, Jake would come over to your desk and look at how you were coming along. Or, as you figured, he was just coming to ogle you. Not that you minded the extra attention.

When you walked in this morning, dressed in your more casual outfit, his eyes had lingered on you for so long you thought it could be classed as a workplace violation.

“Very nice,” Jake had said approvingly. “Very…casual.”

“I try,” you had said drily, heading to your desk.

“I’m serious,” he had said, walking with you. “You have, pardon me, a great figure.”

“That’s not very PC,” Sunghoon had said as he passed by your desk.

“So, what you’re saying,” Jake had started, and you were already rolling your eyes, “I’m not acting PC with my PCB?”

You had groaned. “Jake…”

“Great going, Sunghoon,” Jake had grumbled, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “You’re the worst, I swear…”

Now you were sitting with them in the break room, where they were locked in what you could only assume was a longstanding debate.

“I’m saying that it wouldn’t be gay if it was on an island,” Jake protested, “so it wouldn’t even matter, Sunghoon.”

“Okay, but they’d eventually get rescued, so they’d have to live with that,” Sunghoon retorted, gesturing with his sandwich.

“Yeah, but they don’t know that they’re getting rescued.”

You glanced at Heeseung, who was eating a microwavable meal. “What are they talking about?”

Heeseung leaned into you, whispering as so not to catch their attention. “It’s this stupid hypothetical they came up with,” Heeseung explained. “If there was an island, and a pair of adult siblings were on one end, and a pair of two straight men were on the other end, which pair would hook up first?”

You blinked. “Well, the siblings, right?”

A haunting silence overtook the break room. Heeseung, Jake, and Sunghoon all stared at you, and you got the impression that you had disrupted something sacred, something hallowed.

Sunghoon laughed and pointed at you. “See? See? Your little work wife doesn’t even agree with you. Those siblings would be smashing, right?”

“Well, I g-,”

“All over each other,” Sunghoon continued, making vulgar gestures with his hands. “It’d be like…five hours. Sweaty from the sun. They’d be rolling around, sand in their ass, it’d be carnal. Primal.”

Jake stared at you incredulously. “You really don’t think the straight guys would fuck?”

You shrugged helplessly. “Well, they’re straight, so I mean…”

Jake groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Okay. Look. If you were on an island with a sexy ass woman, and she had short nails and everything, and she was fully ready to finger your pussy, you wouldn’t let her smash? Because you were ‘straight’?”

“I mean…no.”

“Nah,” Jake said, waving a baby carrot in your face. “You’re either deluded or you aren’t thinking hard enough. You’d get desperate. You’d be munching so much carpet you’d look like…like…”

“Like a carpet factory,” Heeseung said sarcastically.

“You’re so fucking unfunny,” Jake replied. “No, you’d look like…”

“Like she’s an interior designer?” Sunghoon offered.

“Close enough,” Jake said, sighing. “Real dark day when Sunghoon is funnier than you. Do better, Heeseung.”

“Yeah, Heeseung,” you said, “do better.”

Heeseung scoffed. “I thought you were my friend.”

You shrugged. “I wanted to join in.”

Jake clapped you on your back and laughed. “Look at you. Blending in already!”

–

After lunch you excused yourself and went to the bathroom. When you emerged, Jake was leaning against the wall, playing with his fingers.

“Hey,” he said, straightening up. “Had a random hypothetical for you.”

“Sure,” you said, crossing your arms.

“So,” Jake began, his eyes darting around your face, “if you were stuck on a deserted island…”

You groaned.

“Wait! Wait, wait, wait.” Jake put one hand on your shoulder. “If you were stuck on a deserted island, which of us would you want with you? Me, Sunghoon, or Heeseung?”

You frowned. “Well, you, obviously.”

Jake smiled at you widely, running his fingers through his hair. “Ha, for real?”

“Well, yeah. I know you the best.”

His smile faltered. “Is that really the only reason?”

You frowned, unsure of what to say. “I me-,”

Jake clapped you on the back and snorted. “I was just messing with you,” he said before striding back to his corner cubicle.

–

DAY FOUR

You consulted your list of tasks. Your last, and most important task, was to type up a data analysis report based off of the information you had been gathering for the past week. Jake said that he would look over it for you later.

After spending the better part of your morning working on the report, you leaned back and stretched. Your eyes were starting to hurt from staring at a screen for so long, and you rubbed them.

Jake was next to you before you could react. “Hey,” he said, “how’s the report going?”

“It’s going,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Let me see,” Jake said, leaning over you and scrolling through your document. Your breath hitched; he was so close, you could smell his cologne. If you glanced to your right, you would be able to see his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed.

Jake silently pored over the document, his chest pressed against your back. His hand rested on your shoulder, and you couldn’t tell if he was rubbing it as a subconscious habit or not.

“Looking good so far,” he whispered, and when his hand slid down your arm, you knew it was intentional.

“Anything I need to fix?” you asked, attempting to maintain a semblance of professionalism.

“Hm…” Jake leaned in to you evermore, until he was flush against you. “Nothing I can see. You’re a good worker, aren’t you?”

“I try,” you said quietly.

“A good little worker bee,” Jake said softly, his lips almost brushing your ear. “Just what I like.”

You dared to turn your head slightly to catch Jake’s gaze, and he smiled at you, that easy-going, smile that hid a wealth of sobriety and determination. He patted your shoulder again and leaned upwards. The loss of his scent and touch bothered you, but you didn’t say a word.

“I’ll leave you to it now,” Jake said, stretching his wrists out. “Come early tomorrow, okay?”

“Huh? Why?”

“So I can look over your report one last time before you submit it,” Jake said plainly. “What were you thinking, you naughty little bee?”

“I wasn’t thinking of anything like th-,”

Jake laughed. “I was kidding. You’re so cute when you’re all flustered, though.”

When Jake left, you realized that you had been squeezing your plush doll. You released it and sighed. Then, you continued working on the report.

–

DAY FIVE

You strode into the office early. Jake had emailed you through the company’s email, requesting that you arrive on the fifth floor at 7:30 am. Work started at 9:00, so he would have ample time to go over the report with you.

When you entered the floor, you first noted that there were a few workers already there, hunched over their desks. Just a few overachievers…or underachievers, you guessed.

Jake was waving you over to his cubicle, his hair flopping in his face as he enthusiastically beckoned you. You walked towards him.

“Come on,” he said, smiling at you playfully despite the early time. “Come sit.”

You went to pull over another chair, but Jake grabbed your wrist. “No, no,” he said with a shake of his hair. “Just sit next to me.” He scooted over in his chair, leaving you with a sliver of space.

You were already growing accustomed to Jake’s “jokes”, so you sat next to him. Your left leg hung over the side of the chair, the other smushed against Jake’s.

He smiled at you, then opened your report on his computer. You had sent it to him that night, your heart fluttering even though it was just an email. Just five days at this office was making you as pathetic as Jake and his friends.

As he scrolled through the document, he kept glancing at you. Eventually, Jake said, “You can’t be comfortable sitting on the chair like that.”

“You’re right,” you said with a sigh. “I’m not.”

“Why not just…sit on my lap?” Jake asked nonchalantly, his lower lip jutting out in a slight pout.

You sighed. “I see the game you’re playing here, Sim.”

“Will you play, my little worker bee?”

A shift of your ass from the small slice of chair to Jake’s lap was your answer to him, and when you leaned against him he smiled. Jake’s hands reached down to encircle your hips.

“You really are such a good bee,” he said, massaging your hips.

“I can be even better if you let me,” you replied, your gaze flickering to his plush lips.

Jake leaned his head against the mesh backing of his swivel chair. Your back was pressed against his chest, and your hands reached behind you to stroke his face. “I’d like to test that theory,” Jake said softly.

You leaned in and kissed him, reveling in the taste of his lips. He followed suit, kissing you enthusiastically. Jake’s hands remained on our hips, but they soon slid to your thighs, squeezing and groping at the soft flesh. Jake swiped his tongue along your bottom lip a few times, and you widened your mouth. His tongue probed past your lips, licking your own tongue.

“So good,” he whispered, briefly breaking the kiss. “You’d never let fuckass Sunghoon do this, right?”

“Jake…”

“Sorry, baby,” Jake said apologetically. “I get territorial. I’m like a wolf.”

“Jake, come on.”

“Awoo,” he said playfully before kissing you again. Your tongues pressed together, swirling around each other. As the kiss deepened, you bit his lower lip before licking the mark. Jake groaned into your mouth.

“Little bee,” he said, pulling away once again. He rested his forehead against yours. “If you’re going to do stuff like that, you’re gonna have to commit to it.”

“I want to commit to it,” you said, leaving wet kisses along his neck.

Jake groaned and grabbed one of your legs. He brought it over his lap and dragged your hips closer to his crotch. “Now, you’re going to have to be quiet. Can you do that for me?”

“I can be quiet,” you said, resting your hands on his shoulders.

“Promise? This isn’t a big office,” he said, his voice low and hoarse. “It’d be a shame if someone heard us and you got in trouble. You wouldn’t want that, right?”

“No,” you whispered. As you stared at him, Jake started to unbuckle his belt. When he noticed your gaze, he frowned.

“Come on, bee,” he said, gesturing at your skirt. “Can’t do everything for you, can I?”

You zipped your skirt down in the back and shifted so you could wriggle yourself out of it. Jake gave you an exasperated glance, so you shimmied your panties down to your thighs.

“And?” he asked impatiently.

“And…what?”

Jake sighed. “Take your tits out, come on.”

The phrase was so vulgar it shocked you, but somehow it was sexy when uttered from Jake’s mouth. The contrast between his disgusting mind and his boyish good looks thrilled you, so you did as he asked. You un-buttoned your shirt down and tugged your bra straps down, revealing your chest.

Immediately, Jake groped your tits, sighing in pleasure. “Feeling up a pretty girl’s tits early in the morning,” he said, almost reverently. “This is amazing.”

The sensation cause you to moan, and Jake immediately sent you a harsh look. He squeezed one of your breasts, and you suppressed a gasp. “I told you to be quiet, little bee,” he whispered. “You said you could do it.”

“I can,” you murmured.

“Then show me you can,” Jake replied, still fondling your breasts. He pinched your nipples, squeezed your tits, pushed them together then apart. After a while, he took one of your hands and placed it on his crotch.

First, you rubbed his hard-on through his slacks, and he bit his lip to avoid moaning. Then you unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. You were surprised by its girth, as well as the fact that he was already leaking precum. Spitting into your hand, you gathered up some of that precum and used it to stroke his shaft. Jake shuddered and gritted his teeth together.

“Nice and slow,” he said, his breathing already labored. “Slowly, baby.”

You heeded his order and stroked his cock while he played with your breasts. He hadn’t tired of them; on the contrary, he was transfixed by them. Jake leaned forward and bit one of your breasts hard, sucking at the spot immediately after. “Look at this and think of me,” he whispered before leaving another hickey on your other breast.

Jake suddenly seemed to remember that he didn’t have much time with you. He took his mouth off of your breast and swatted your hands from his cock. Then he covered your lips with his hand and slowly, painstakingly, guided his cockhead into your dripping, wet pussy.

You were glad you were being muffled by his hand, because you would not have been able to contain your shivering moans. He shallowly fucked into you, allowing you to get used to his length. When he felt that you were ready, he lifted his hips upwards and slid inside of you completely, letting out a heavy breath.

“Now bounce on it,” Jake whispered into your ear. One hand freely groped your breast, the other was clamped onto your hip. You guessed that he trusted you not to moan now.

You had never ridden dick before, but you had a general idea of how to do it. You lifted yourself up and down, your pussy enveloping his shaft. The feeling was incredible, and you bit his hand as you worked yourself on his cock. As you did, the swivel chair squeaked due to the movement.

Jake shunted his hips upwards, matching your movements. His hand moved down to your waist, gripping it tightly. “Faster,” he hissed. “Faster, baby.”

Now that you had gotten used to him, you bounced on him faster. Your ass slapped against his strong, muscular thighs, and you knew that there was no way you were being conspicuous. Your pussy made smacking noises as you rode him, and the swivel chair squeaked like it was going to break.

Still, Jake urged you on. “Come on, come on, fucking put that slutty pussy to work,” he said, taking your tits into his mouth. Both of his hands were gripping your hips, pushing him onto his length. “Keep going. Don’t you dare…stop.”

You were reaching your limit, exhaustion seeping into your limbs. Jake lightly pinched your side, and you gasped. “I told you to keep going, baby.”

So you kept going. You swore you could feel him in your womb, that was how far he was pushing you. “Pussy’s gonna be shaped like this dick,” Jake hissed, leaving sloppy kisses all over your chest. “My masterpiece.”

Warmth filled you, all the way to your core, and you knew you were about to burst. “Cover my mouth,” you whispered and Jake immediately placed his hand over your mouth, rutting into you even faster.

“Gonna cum,” Jake grunted, his thrusts growing slower and sloppier. “Gonna fill this sweet pussy up.” With a growl that didn’t dare leave his throat, he fucked his cum into you, his hand still gripping your hip. Slowly, painstakingly, he pulled out of you, and you could see his cum dripping out of you.

He kissed your forehead and uncovered your mouth. “That was so good,” you whispered.

“It’ll be better next time,” Jake said slyly.

“Oh, yeah?” You started to put your clothes back on, tugging your bra down and buttoning your shirt again. “What makes you so sure?”

Jake leaned into your ear again. “Next time, I’ll get to hear you scream my name.”

You pulled away from him, your eyes widening.

Jake smiled at you. “Just kidding.”

#jake sim smut #jake x reader #jake sim x reader #enha smut #enhypen smut #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #I had so much fun writing this #That being said...go to Day Five for smut if you're impatient

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thinkingaboutbetterdays · 3 months

Text

glasses. ( elliot stabler x reader )

gif belongs to me

You rarely wore your glasses in the presence of company. Only when the blinds were closed in your office or when you were in the comfort of your own home. However, you were due to appear in the Judge's chambers tomorrow morning to discuss the case you were prosecuting, arguing against the defense ruling out the tape recording of the defendant's voice, and expected everyone on the floor to have headed home, and weren't expecting any visitors.

The last person you expected to knock on your door as he walked into your office was your boyfriend of four months. In your exhausted state, you weren't fast enough to remove your glasses and hide them in the top drawer of your desk. Elliot raised an eyebrow but gave no indication he saw your glasses.

"Hey," He greeted.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" You smiled as you stood up to greet him with a kiss, your smile growing as you pulled away.

"I was about to ask you the same thing. Liv and I are waiting to get some results back from the lab." He showed you his watch, "Do you know what time it is?"

"I don't know. Late?" You replied as you returned to your desk, sighing as you sat down. "I'm due in chambers first thing tomorrow. And I'm trying to make sure that weasel can't poke holes in my argument. I need that tape to be admitted into evidence."

Elliot chuckled, knowing exactly who you were referring to. Everyone at the precinct referred to the conniving defense lawyer as your archnemeses which wasn't far off. While prosecuting a case for the unit, you met Elliot when you showed up at the precinct to observe the line-up. Cragen had pulled some strings, calling in a few favors to make sure you agreed to take the case as it wasn't your typical case of choice. You had put some of the most hardened criminals in prison and while Olivia was wary at first, claiming you had no idea what it took to win a rape case, the brunette warmed up to you quickly as you proved your dedication to the cause, irritating a few judges along the way as you knew which one's to call for warrants knowing which buttons to push and when.

"And you also need to sleep." He pointed at you sternly, "Naps on that abomination you call a couch don't count."

You playfully rolled your eyes, covering your mouth as you yawned. "Alright, but I'm bringing it home to work on in the morning."

Elliot nodded, "Deal. Come on."

You gathered your paperwork and Elliot held your jacket as you slipped your arms in the sleeves, noticing you weren't bringing your glasses and wondered why you had hidden them so quickly.

Did you think he would see you differently? Embarrassed? Insecure?

He would figure out which but in the meantime, he took you home to the apartment he had moved into after his divorce and you both took a shower to wash the day away. Elliot was watching a game on the television while you worked quietly, with some difficulty. He could see the way you squinted at the writing and was tempted to mention you slamming the drawer closed to hide your glasses, but when you rubbed your temples and closed the paperwork defeatedly he realized why.

And Elliot was determined to change your mind.

The next night, after a great start to the trial, you were tidying up your desk when Elliot entered and you greeted him with a smile before turning to put a few books away on the bookshelves behind you, turning on your heel when you registered the change in his appearance.

"What are you doing?" You giggled as he closed the door.

"What?" He shrugged, moving to sit in the chair in front of your desk.

You shook your head, placed the books away, and took a seat behind your desk. "What's with the glasses?"

"Well, you know, I am a detective," He began, leaning back and clasping his hands. Your lips twitched with amusement, raising your eyebrows in mock surprise. "I'm pretty observant. Comes with the territory." He continued, "And yesterday I noticed that you almost chopped off your hand trying to hide your glasses in your top drawer." Your smile faltered and Elliot leaned his forearms on your desk. "I watched you last night, and this morning, when you tried to finish your work in time for chambers. You squinted."

"I squinted?" You echoed.

He nodded, "And I wondered why on Earth you felt the need to hide something like that from me."

"Ell-"

"I like 'em." He interrupted, and you swallowed the lump in your throat as you glanced away from his gaze. "And, uh, I think they fit you perfectly, so perfect that I want you to wear them more often." You stared at the detective while he sighed. "A little too much actually."

Laughter left your lips and Elliot smiled at the sound, relieved the tension had been broken. You rested your arms on your desk, leaning closer to him, raising an eyebrow. "Oh really?"

"Uh-huh." He sent you a toothy grin and the sight of him wearing the glasses, combined with his usual charm made your heart feel as if it was going to explode. "And I read somewhere that not wearing glasses can cause all kinds of effects. Blurred vision and headaches to name a few."

"You looked it up?"

He nodded, "Of course I did. I take your health seriously. And so should you. So please, wear the damn glasses."

You shook your head as you sat back in your chair, and Elliot was prepared to continue his argument when you opened the top drawer of your desk and took out your glasses, putting them on. You leaned forward, resting your arms on the desk again and your shoulders shook in silent laughter at how elated he was.

"God, you're sexy." His voice dropped several octaves and you blushed from his appreciative gaze.

"You are not so bad yourself, detective."

"I have to be frank, counselor, I had a whole evening planned, but I don't think I could make the drive home."

You bit your lower lip, drawing his attention to the movement, and nodded to the blinds. "You close the blinds and I'll lock the door."

You both hastily made your way around the room and once the door was locked, and the blinds were closed, only the faint glow from the desk lamp providing a source of light, you stopped Elliot from taking off the glasses.

"Keep them on?" You pleaded.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he placed his hands on your waist, your hands running up his chest as he leaned in, your noses brushing as he murmured, "Only if you will."

You closed your eyes when his breath tickled your lips, nodding as you moved your hands to the nape of his neck, leaning on your toes as your lips met fervently. You turned, walking backward as you undid his tie and the buttons of his shirt. Your giggles were muffled by his kiss when he picked you up, hovering over you on the couch.

If wearing your glasses elicited this reaction from him, you were never taking them off again.

#elliot stabler #elliot stabler x reader #law and order svu

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literary-motif · 20 days

Text

Sacred Scars

Isaac Rhoades x Reader

You see Isaac's scars.

“I never thought we’d get it done this fast,” Isaac said, closing the folder and with it the case you two had solved together in no time, setting a new personal record.

“I told you I’m getting good,” you teased, smirking at him as he rolled his eyes in false annoyance.

You had gotten good.

Your attention to detail often made him pause in awe when you pointed out something seemingly insignificantly small that would lead to unraveling the entire cluster of names, places, and events making up the case.

He loved working together with you. Not only did it allow him to spend even more time in your company, but you worked together so efficiently — as if you had been doing it all your lives, as if you understood each other's behavior and thinking on such a fundamental level — that it made every case fly by in the blink of an eye. For the first time in a long while, Isaac felt truly alive when he sat behind his desk.

You nudged his shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts. “I also had an excellent teacher,” you said, shooting him a smile that turned genuine as you stared into his eyes.

He looked so happy. You had never seen Isaac practically radiate with silent contentment.

The overwhelming love and gratitude you saw in his expression made you avert your gaze, feeling like you were peeking into the very depths of his soul. You never wanted to pry, and although he had revealed his heart to you piece by broken piece, you knew expressing vulnerability was still hard for him.

You cleared your throat, risking a glance at him. Isaac had a content smile, looking at the empty cup of tea in his hands as if it had given him the gift of happiness. “Do you want to call it an early night?” you asked, reaching out to ruffle his black hair and lighten the intensity of the moment shared between you.

He gave you a disapproving look, but could not keep the smile off his face as he leaned into the touch. “That would probably be best,” he said, taking your hand and moving it to his lips. “We have a meeting tomorrow at noon, after all.”

“Right,” you said, carefully freeing your hand to hook two fingers under his chin and tilt his head up. He craned his neck, closing the gap before you had the chance to take him off guard. “Right,” you said again as he broke the kiss, smirking mischievously at you. “I’m going to make some chamomile tea before bed. Do you want some?”

“No, thank you,” Isaac replied, standing from his office chair. He raised his arms above his head, twisting his upper body from side to side in a long overdue stretch. “I’ll get ready for bed. Join me when you’re done?”

“Do you want a massage?” you asked, observing the furrow in his brows and the tight clench of his yaw as he rolled his shoulders. They seemed particularly tense.

“No need,” Isaac said quickly, dissolving your concern with a gentle smile. “Don’t be long.”

If anyone had predicted this future for you, standing in the kitchen, making yourself a cup of soothing chamomile tea while the man you loved was getting ready for sleep upstairs in an enormous and gorgeous house — and being happy, so utterly, soul-crushingly happy that you felt like your heart would burst — you would have called them a sick liar, descending into despair at being taunted with a life you so wanted but which you could never have.

So much had changed in the time you had known Isaac. Some days you felt hardly deserving of all he had done for you.

You pushed open the door to the bedroom with your shoulder, cradling the cup of steaming tea in your hands. “You realize if we hadn’t met, I would be—” You cut yourself off at the image before you.

Isaac sat on the bed, his exposed back to you as he rummaged through the drawer of his nightstand for a shirt. You could see his shoulders tense when he heard your voice, hastily pulling out his shirt and throwing it on.

It was too late. You had already seen the myriad of scars littering the skin of his back.

“Pickle! I—” Isaac exclaimed, turning to face you. “I— uh—” He trailed off, unsure where to begin. You had never seen his scars, and he had never told you about them. Your expression was one of mild shock, still frozen in the doorway as you tried to settle on what to say. He swallowed, averting his gaze and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

You approached him hesitatingly, sitting down beside him. You reached over, placing the tea on the nightstand before fully turning to face Isaac, holding your hands out for him to take. He obliged without hesitation.

“Who did this to you?” you whispered, your heart breaking at the pain he must have suffered.

Isaac chuckled sadly, shaking his head. “That’s hard to say,” he answered, thumbs rubbing circles into the back of your hands to distract himself. “It was not one single person. It’s the— the collateral damage to this line of work, I could say. Sometimes cases don’t go as planned.”

You stayed silent. There was a heavy feeling in your chest at the reminder that Isaac, too, had a past. He had suffered like you had, facing the brunt of the heavy legacy he carried. You wished you could have been there for him sooner. The idea that he had to patch himself up in this grand, empty house after one of his cases had taken an unexpected turn left a bitter taste on your tongue.

“Can you show me?” you asked quietly.

Isaac’s jaw clenched. “Not tonight,” he said. “I don’t like thinking about it. Another time, maybe. I don’t feel up to it tonight.”

You nodded, squeezing his hands comfortingly. The past felt like something heavy for you, too. On some nights it came easy talking about it, on others it sat in your throat, stealing your breath as you tried croaking out the words.

“That’s alright,” you said. “Would you like a sip of tea?”

“No, thank you,” he whispered, picking up the cup and handing it to you before encircling your waist with his arms and leaning his head on your shoulder. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest from how he was snuggled up against your side. “I only need you right now to chase away the shadows of the past.”

The moment felt painfully personal. It was a sacred thing, to be cradled gently and never spoken of outside the secure walls of your shared bedroom and its bulletproof glass that allowed you a peek into the night.

Sometimes even the night of shadow needed a little light.

#sakuverse #zsakuva #isaac rhoades #isaac rhoades x reader

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mackjlee9 · 1 year

Note

hiiii! i hope taht you are having a good day! my suggestion is a Leon Slut Kennedy x SMR! where we punish him for being a jealous and dubius for our relationship with ada! GOodNight!

I- is this good enough?? I don't like how it turned out 😭😭

Leon Kennedy x Top!Male!Reader [Smut]

Warning; dubcon-ish(?, overstimulation, size kink, manhandling, dumbification, feminization, buff!taller!reader.

Masterlist.

Resident Evil 4

(M/n) was walking ahead of Leon during one of their missions, and something prompted him to briefly glance behind him, in part just to make sure Leon was still there, when he caught a glimpse of red.

On instinct, he grabbed Leon's arm and dragged him until he was standing behind him, protecting him with his body, pistol in his hand, holding it up in the direction where the person was hiding.

"I know you're there, you can come out, Ada," she smirked behind the pillar she was hiding in, holstering her pistol, both hands up in the air as she walked out of her hiding spot.

"As sharp as ever, I see," (M/n) smirked and holstered his gun, taking a more relaxed stance at the sight of her. (M/n) and Ada used to work together for a short period of time, always assigned as partners and they got along pretty well -maybe too well- but eventually they parted ways, so they were close, perhaps not friends, but acquaintances. It's been years since they've seen each other.

Whilst (M/n) and Ada continue to have a small conversation, Leon is just silently observing their interaction, Ada hadn't even looked at him since she arrived, and it probably was because he was hiding behind (M/n)'s body, but he wasn't sure it wasn't because she was too focused on the (h/c) haired male, which she was. Ada had started openly flirting with him, taking a few steps closer and Leon couldn't stop himself.

He grabbed the back of (M/n)'s shirt, pulling on it, "We should keep going, (M/n)."

He looks back over his shoulder at Leon. There was nothing too obvious on his expression, but the way his brows furrowed and the look in his eyes when he glanced at Ada told (M/n) all he needed to know, and damn... He has never been the type to like a jealous partner, but the fact that Leon was jealous made him want to spoil him, maybe even tease him a little bit.

"Well, I see your puppy is mad at me, how adorable~," Ada spoke with a playful smirk, finding the current situation really entertaining, "See you around, (M/n)," and like that, she was gone.

//////

For the next twenty minutes, Leon had been completely ignoring him, constantly responding rather coldly, and (M/n) had to ask him what was wrong.

Leon held back a scoff, "I bet you never had problems with Ada."

Confused, (M/n) frowned at his words, "What-?"

"Why don't you just go back to her? I'm just a bother to you right now," okay, now (M/n) wasn't having as much fun as he did when he realized Leon was jealous.

He gritted his teeth at the insinuation that he had feelings for Ada and enjoyed her company more than his, when (M/n) was painfully aware that wasn't the case at all.

His eyes caught sight of a familiar door, it was a room they had entered before since now they were retracing their steps, as it was usual in these kinds of missions. (M/n) grabbed Leon's wrist and dragged him inside the room, fighting against the blond's struggling.

"What the fuck are you doing-?!" (M/n) didn't appreciate his tone of voice one bit, and slamming the door behind them with his foot, he took Leon to the bed in the middle of the room, getting on top of him, holding him still and preventing him from running away.

"I'm gonna make you realize how much I love you, Leon," he leaned down to kiss him, but Leon turned his head away, and (M/n) sighed, deciding this could work too, so he wasn't that angry yet. Slowly, he started leaving soft kisses down Leon's neck, tightening his grip around the blond's wrists when he felt him squirming underneath him, trying to break free, "Please, love, let me show you."

(M/n) moved Leon's hands above his head, holding them still with one hand as his now free hand sneaked under his black shirt, gently touching his warm skin, tracing the definition of his abs and up to his chest, lifting the shirt on his way up. His lips opened slightly, placing wet kisses down Leon's collarbone, gently nibbling on his skin.

"You're so pretty, Leon..." He whispered next to his ear, slowly grinding his hips down on him, letting him know just how much Leon drove him crazy with just being in his presence.

However, during this whole thing, Leon had been squirming around, tears gathering in his eyes and he could barely hold them in, deciding on masking them with anger, grunting and mumbling at (M/n) to let him go. And well, (M/n) was getting a little annoyed at that.

"Leon!" He exclaimed, observing how the blond stopped moving, looking into his glossy blue eyes, "You're all that matters to me."

Leon scoffed, ignoring the knot forming in his throat, "I'm sure you said the same thing to her."

A growl resonates in (M/n)'s chest as he gets off the bed, and when Leon thought he had finally broken his demeanor, he felt his hands down on his hips, turning him around on the bed, making Leon gasp at how rough he was when doing so.

"If words won't work, then maybe my cock will," Leon gasped at the feeling of (M/n)'s hard dick pressed against his ass, "She means nothing to me, and I'm gonna make sure you get that through that thick skull of yours."

//////

Whether Leon got it or not, that wasn't something he could answer right now. Especially not when (M/n)'s hands were keeping a tight hold on his hips.

Leon's chest was pressed against the bed, his mind completely gone and drowned in pleasure, dizzy and lightheaded, fading in and out of consciousness as (M/n) continues fucking him hard, each thrust reaching deep inside, hitting his overstimulated prostate and making his body shiver. His legs had long given out but that wasn't something that would make (M/n) stop, ending up with Leon's trembling legs dangling off the ground, being manhandled easily by his boyfriend.

His eyes kept rolling into the back of his head, tears streaming down his flushed face, drool dripping down the corner of his mouth, his gloved hands weakly pulling on the bedsheets as he releases quiet whines and whimpers, his voice hoarse and raspy from all the moaning and crying he did minutes prior, he has no idea how long its been, and he honestly doesn't care.

He could feel his thighs all sticky with cum and he swears his insides had become nothing else but a pussy for (M/n) at this point, especially when (M/n) kept telling him how good his boypussy felt around his throbbing cock.

"You're all mine and I'm all yours, love," (M/n)'s thrusts stopped as he makes Leon cockwarm him, making his eyes open wide as his body twitches and trembles, "I won't ever be able to love anyone other than you ever again, fuck- my cock was made for you, and only you, baby," (M/n)'s arms wrapped around Leon's waist, lifting him off the bed, "Love you so fucking much," his words were breathy as he whispered them desperately, holding Leon's limp body with ease.

Leon blinked slowly, regaining his awareness of what was happening, the fog in his mind dissipating slowly, and he looked at (M/n) over his shoulder.

"Love... You t-too," he managed to say slowly, swallowing his saliva when he felt his throat dry.

(M/n) leaned closer and kissed him, pinning him down on the bed again, but now holding him in a mating press position.

"'M gonna make you take all my cum, like the good babygirl you are~," Leon looked into (M/n)'s dreamily, whimpering as he felt him resume his relentless thrusts inside his weak body.

"Please~ I'm... I'm your good, pretty babygirl, all... All y-yours, sir."

Damn...

It took Leon a few hours to recover his energy and strength from all that.

#leon kennedy x male reader #leon kennedy x reader #re x male reader #re x reader #re4 x male reader #re4 x reader #resident evil leon #resident evil smut #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #smut #male reader #top male reader #top reader #x reader #reader insert #.mackjlee9 writes

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spadesolace · 8 months

Text

your guide to the y/n's in every newjeans fics

what is love! minyn: playlist

age: 20

what their partner call them: baby / babe / babie

what they call their partner: darling

personality: quite the simp and a goofball but is working hard for her future (minji is in it, of course). very observant and quite the creative person when it comes to thinking of gifts for minji. aside from that, she is still head over heels for her girlfriend of 3 years.

likes: coffee, parks, reading (case studies most of the time), korean rnb, aquariums (has a collection of aquatic animal plushies in their shared apartment), and of course (loves) minji.

dislikes: people who don’t know their place “could you really blame me? have you seen minji?” and matcha.

who fell first? "me, but i waited until i was sure minji liked me back."

drag me down! hanyn: playlist

age: 19

what their partner call them: loser / park

what they call their partner: nerd / pham

personality: the most reserved introvert there is, she has socials but little information can be taken there. is actually a nerd but won’t admit that to hanni. lowkey lazy when it comes to classes but somehow manages to stay on her top spot (if she wanted to, she would have beaten hanni long ago). is actually a big softie esp when it comes to her little sister (and hanni).

likes: iced americano “you’re really going to die early from that” “shut it, pham”, baked goods, anime (has an entire collection), lego, video games, reading, and hanni.

dislikes: liars and flying cockroaches.

who fell first? "not quite sure... pham never disclosed when she first realized that she likes me."

love you twice! haeyn: playlist

age: 17

what their partner call them: y/nn

what they call their partner: hae

personality: lowkey has anger issues that she let’s out on any physical activity (she’s lowkey muscular), but really is a golden retriever who overthinks a lot. quite protective and quiet in front of everyone except for haerin and hyein which shows how chaotic she truly is. if haerin is an introvert, she's a lowkey introvert but doesn't show it that much.

likes: going outside, playing sports, somewhere that won't make her feel stuck in one place, photography, making hyein laugh, but also taking care of her friends and haerin.

dislikes: cheaters. minwon specifically, also small spaces (a bit claustrophobic)

who fell first? "i think it was at the same time, i confessed first if we're going to base of that-"

midnight rain! daniyn: playlist

age: 18

what their partner call them: moonlight

what they call their partner: sunshine

personality: a delinquent who loves to play the guitar and listen to music but also runs away at any sign of a problem or confrontation happening. a bit free spirited but that's what makes people either admire or despise her. you won't hear much from her as she has her headphones on most of the time. she has scary dog privileges when she goes out late at night for her date with dani. has a bunch of drawings of danielle and half of them have song lyrics as the title.

likes: drawing, writing, listening to music, her black cat that keeps her company most of the time, skateboarding, and danielle.

dislikes: confrontations, and dogs.

who fell first? "why would i tell you? ... jihye."

#newjeans x reader #newjeans #what is love #drag me down #love you twice #midnight rain #newjeans minji #newjeans hanni #newjeans haerin #newjeans danielle

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mistymisfit · 6 months

Text

So long, Marianne III

Summary: Reader is a spy working undercover in Gotham when she meets Jason Todd, who despite her better judgement she forms a very close friendship with. This story follows their escape from Arkham asylum, their fall out and the times they run into each other as they get older.

Relationship: AK!Jason x Meta!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of reader being at the beach and wearing unspecified swimwear, mentions of Jason being taller than reader, the shittiest vaguest smut you'll ever read (it's separated with ** in case anyone wants to skip it), mentions of past SA, and graphic descriptions of depression (like straight out of my psychopathology textbook). So minors DNI!!!!

Word Count: 6,5K

Read on ao3

Masterlist - Mobile masterlist

Years passed and you got better, better at handling your feelings, at smothering them down so you wouldn't make the same mistake again. Countless identities after and you haven't even been close to getting involved with someone the same way you did with Jason. Now you lived and moved under the name "Penny Lewis", a fake identity as a journalist that would allow you to move around countries to wherever they sent you. You wouldn't lie to yourself, it was lonely and on some nights you wished you would've said yes to him. But you wouldn't have forgiven yourself if you let your life be defined by him. You knew the consequences of deserting and any happiness a life with him could've bought you would have been overshadowed by guilt. You heard of Joker's death from some people you walked past last time you were in the States, realizing he finally died of whatever disease he was making you slow down on the very same night you escaped. You also found out Batman was still alive and kicking, after that you wondered were Jason was, wasn't he hellbent on killing him?

Now you were stationed in Venezuela, the closest headquarters of your agency were in an entire different country so you were all on your own. Your only company being the agent who you got partnered with, a serious guy, with not much muscles but was a tech expert. The cover was that you were a regular couple on a holiday, but what you were really doing was investigating, someone was training people and forming an army there. You had to find out who and why. You've felt bad about certain missions before, especially when after getting the information you needed your bosses decided not to do anything about it because they deemed the situation was "not important enough", when you were there available and ready to stop a tragedy. What would be the reason for someone to form a secret army in a country under a dictatorship? Maybe they were just trying to get their rights back, free their country. But you sighed and pushed it all down, at least you get to enjoy the sea for a moment.

Unbeknownst to you, you were being observed from a distance . He was doing a routine perimeter check by himself, using it as an excuse to take a walk and be on his own, when he looked around and thought he saw you in the distance from the cliff he was on. He thought it'd be impossible but still presses on the side of his helmet to zoom in, so it was you. You had a different haircut, and hair color but he'd recognize you anywhere. He takes in the sight of you, now older and no longer the teenager he remembered. You were talking to someone, the other person stands up when you turn around to take off your dress and leave it on an arm-chair. He doesn't mean to but his breath hitches when he sees you in your swimwear, guess he didn't get over his crush like he thought. His expression under the mask changes when he sees who you were talking to, a guy, a very friendly guy who puts a hand on your hip and you kiss his cheek. What the fuck? Is the only thing he could think about. Until he feels a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Are we losing time spying on girls on the beach now?" The scoff he lets out in response is almost inaudible under the electronic voice the helmet gave him.

"Fuck off, Wilson" He brushes off the hand on his shoulders and moves along, clearly you were not who he remembered. You moved on when he couldn't, he was holding onto a memory and a moment of his life he knew would never come back. He had to force himself to see what you really were right now, a threat to his plan not an old friend.

Knowing of your presence and your line of work, he instructed his men to run more frequent perimeter checks and be more wary of any breaches or intrusions. So, a few nights after he first saw you, you find yourself sneaking into his base. You were good, stealthy and well-trained, light on your feet and fast- with the addition of being able to stop time. You avoid all eyes, and hide in the dark using the lack of lights to your advantage. Of course the secret military base would have the least amount of lights outside of it to avoid attracting any attention. It was close enough to the city in case anything was needed but also far away enough to go unnoticed. Whoever was running this operation knew what they were doing. You climbed to the roof of the main building, where you thought was most likely to have an office, which would have papers or a computer that you could use to find out who they were. Quick fingers work on picking the lock of a door on the back of it but as soon as you open it you are stopped.

A gun is pressed to your temple and you thought "fuck", you almost made it in.

"Don't move an inch, sweetheart" The man next to you speaks, and then moves your hair with the muzzle "I remember you, no powers, make a move and I'll shoot you"

You weakly nod in response, how did you even get caught? You've been studying their shifts, their patterns, everything. He was not supposed to be here. You raise your hands, signaling defeat, a bullet to your head was one of the things you couldn't heal. He opens the door and pushes you in, it leads to a dark storage unit. With the gun still fixed on your head he walks behind you, telling you were to go. Until you made it to the main room, a few gasps and whispers from the men there are heard, shocked to see someone made it past through all the security measures. You could feel the uncountable amount of eyes on you, the attention making you uneasy- not that your life being threatened didn't make you feel uneasy enough. But if he had orders to kill on sight, you would've been dead by now so you may still have a chance of escaping.

"Someone call the Knight!" He shouts, getting somebody to bind your hands behind your back with a zip tie "this gun leaves her head and we're all fucked"

He was right, you'd go for him first. Maybe only for him and then flee, they wouldn't make a fuss over one casualty. You could still complete your mission. Then you see him walking towards you, a tall man, wearing a helmet- was it electronic? huh? You assume only the helmet is robotic because he moved like a real person, it wouldn't be the weirdest thing you've come across. A robot leading a secret militia, that's a funny story to tell. Everything from his posture to the way he walked and held himself made you think he looked like the boss of this place. His gloved hand holds your jaw and leans down, like he's getting a good look at you under the blue screen of his helmet. You debate for a second if it'd be a good idea to spit on it, you were already fucked there's no other way than down now.

"To think such a pretty face could take us all out before we noticed" You barely hear the whisper of the modulated voice. And you don't know why it angers you to the point all logic is thrown out the window and you decide to take it out on the --much taller than you-- guy in front of you. He acknowledged your strength, what you were capable of doing and called you pretty while he was at it too.

You headbutt him below his chin, figuring that might be a weak point in the helmet. Had he not worn that you would've gone straight for his forehead, it was his fault for putting himself so close to you. He stumbles a few steps back from you, and you could hear the "ohh"s and gasps from the men there. It feels good for about 5 seconds, then you start wondering why you haven't been shot yet. Wasn't the man who found you supposed to be a hit man or something like that? And you were also severely outnumbered, this could have been over a while ago. You hear a robotic chuckle, it probably didn't even hurt him, and then hes grabbing your arm tightly, pushing a gun to your side.

"Adorable" He mocks

"Fuck you" You whisper under your breath, still not ready to go without a fight.

"Party's over, go the fuck home" He screams , squeezing your arm so hard you'll think it will leave a bruise "I'll handle her myself"

He starts guiding you away and for a second you have trouble keeping up with his much longer steps. You huff in annoyance, sure that if you were to stop walking he could hold you up and drag you with how strong his grip was on you. You move quite a lot, you didn't expect the place to be so big, you even go up a set of stairs until he finally opens the door to what looks like an office-kind of. It doesn't look like the place gets much use, and the sole desk only has a few things scattered over it, you doubt any of them had any importance if he took you there. There wasn't even a computer on it and you noted the chair on the other side even had dust on it. What you didn't hear on your way out was the words exchanged between the men, which would definitely have let you guess who hid under the robot mask.

"They know each other?" One of the Knight's most trusted lieutenants asked.

"She's an old ex-girlfriend of his," He clarifies, remembering how you got away. "used to be a real pain in my ass once"

"He knew she was coming?"

Slade just shrugged and walked away, avoiding anymore questions. Of course the kid knew, that's why he had doubled the perimeters check, he wasn't stupid. But it wasn't until now that he put two and two together and realized you were who he was staring at the beach the other day.

He turns you to face the desk with your back to him and it makes you nervous. What was he going to do? You'll freeze him and escape if he tries anything weird, screw a cover. They already knew too much about you so it's not like your cover mattered much anyways. He takes out a knife, God knows from where, and to your surprise uses to cut off the zip tie around your wrists.

"Why are you freeing me?"

"Because I know you wont try anything funny" You recognize the now non-modulated voice, of course it's him. Who else would be running a militia like this? It almost makes you want to laugh, sure this is how you find each other after 5 years. You see the helmet dropped at the desk but you don't dare to turn and face him just yet. You had 5 years to think about everything, to make peace with every choice you took but you were still a little afraid to face him.

"This usual for you?" He asks when you keep quiet, you don't even look at him. He wants to say he's disappointed but he can't. He knows someone like you, pretty and perfect, won't dwell in the past like he does. "Getting caught?"

"No," you reply in a weak whisper "this is my first time actually"

"What about the time-"

"It was on purpose, I was ordered to let myself get captured" You cut him off, crossing your arms in front of yourself, as if trying to shield your body from something you were not quite sure what it was. This was one of the things that would be easier to tell him without looking at his face, not like you are not dying to stare at him and see if he's changed with the years.

"Of course," He scoffs, a gloved hand resting on your shoulder "you just happened to run into your kidnapped boyfriend, lucky me"

You blush despite the situation you were in, you never thought you'd live to see the day you heard Jason calling himself your boyfriend-even if he was using that tone. Even if he had an attitude like that, was he still pissed? even after all this time?

"Jason" You sigh, what now? You tell him about how you were ordered not to look for him any further? How you disobeyed and got yourself punished from insubordination? Though that is probably how you ended up with that suicide --let yourself be captured-- mission that led you to find him.

"What? Can't even look me in the eye?" He sighs too, ending the sentence by whispering your name. "You hate me now?"

"Don't ever say that" You quickly turn around to face him. Was he always this tall? And this huge? He's obviously gained a lot of muscle since the last time you saw him, and probably grew a few inches taller too. Do boys keep growing after they turn 18? Or did he always tower over you this much? You made yourself a mental note to look it up when it was safe. Yeah, you saw him moments ago, but he had the helmet on, you didn't know you were looking at Jason it was different.

He, obviously, still has the J scar on his face, and he looks even more rough than what you remembered. You still think he's handsome, though. And his eyes are just as pretty as you remembered. It feels like the world stopped on its axis when you look at him, your memory pales in comparison to the real thing. Even if his presence has changed, and he feels much more dangerous now, you still see the same boy who would sneak to your room to get his broken ribs fixed and cuddle you. You wanted to believe he was still in there, that all the trouble you went through to help him wasn't for nothing. He's staring at you too, he has been since you entered his view, but now he is not wearing the mask so you can see his eyes trained on you.

"I could never hate you" You wanted to reach for him, touch him, just to make sure it was real but you refrained from doing it. You didn't know if he'd be okay with it, you had to bring yourself back to earth and think about how much he could've changed in the past few years.

"There you are, looking prettier than the day I left you" He apparently has no problem grabbing your face and squeezing your cheeks.

"Oh so your memory is intact" you push his hand away, his words reminding you that you were supposed to be mad at him.

"Come on, baby" He's trying to butter you up with the pet name, and you're ashamed to say it's working "You promised me some answers"

"Then ask" You tease, leaning backwards to the desk and resting your palms on it to support yourself.

"Why Marianne? Why Penny?" He asks, your legs were caged in between his not allowing you to leave as he towered over you. Hot, you thought against all logic and reason. You are not surprised to hear him say your new alias either, he must've done his research too.

"They're songs from the sixties" Your head tilted to the side with your gaze still fixed on him. You were just trying to update your memory of him, for future reference.

"The Beatles?"

"And Leonard Cohen, you should look him up." You suggest.

"Who's the guy with you?" You chuckle at the petty question.

"Jealous much? Don't worry about him, it's all make pretend"

"What about your family?" Jason questions, not letting you linger on the fact that he was in fact very jealous of the guy he thought to be your boyfriend.

"My parents died in the accident that gave me my powers... or at least that's what they told me." You sigh, ouch sensitive topic, but you had promised yourself to tell him everything he wanted to know because of the guilt that ate you up when you thought he was dead. You never saw their bodies or any confirmation that this was true. All you had to go from was their word, and they could've killed your parents to secure you as an asset for all you know. "It also gave me amnesia, so I don't remember much of that"

"And you don't have a missing sister?" He follows up, remembering what you told him all those years ago. That you were not interested in fighting crime like he was, you were sneaking out at night to try to find your missing sister. Something you wouldn't tell him much about, and he didn't pressure you into giving out more information because he thought it was a sensitive subject.

"I have a sister," you look down and to the side, as if hiding your face from him "she isn't missing. She's got a normal life and it'll stay like that"

"Is she why you didn't leave with me?" His hand gently guides your chin so you look up at him again, this time you grab his wrist to stop him. Yes , you wanted to say.

"Lose the gloves," You try to change the subject, now holding the most intense eye contact of your life "touch me seriously"

He's taken aback by your request. You wanted what? Him touching you? He's not sure if he should do it, ever since his time in Arkham he's been keeping to himself. Jason's pretty sure the last time he felt skin to skin contact was the last time he saw you, when he grazed your skin pulling your hair back.

"How do your powers work?" He asks, changing the subject too. You were just two people trying so hard to avoid the other to step on their emotional landmines. If one of you got too close the other would be quick to push them away, not allowing yourselves to fully open up despite promising to be honest. It almost makes you want to sigh in defeat, you were still holding his wrist so you put his hand on the desk behind you as close to your body as possible.

"I control time to a certain degree, so when I heal you I just turn your body back to before it was injured," You explain "it wouldn't work on any disease your body was going to develop anyways, I can slow it down but your body will always progress to it"

"Like Alzheimer?" You nod "So when you stopped Deathstroke you...froze him in time?"

"Pretty much, yes"

"What about bullet wounds?"

"Can't do much if the bullet's still inside, I can only stop the bleeding so much"

"And what abou-"

"Jay" You cut him off with a plea.

And with the look you give him he decides to give it a shot, just for you. He roughly presses his lips to yours, to test if he'd be able to take it. It almost knocked the air out of your lungs, first he refused to take off his gloves to touch you and now he's kissing you like this.

"I want to..." He whispers, his hands holding your face to make sure you won't go anywhere. "I want to try"

"We can take it slow" You offer and he nods along, letting go of you to finally take off his gloves.

First he touches your face, taking in your soft skin and you let him. You've wanted to feel his hands on you for too long, he can touch you anywhere he wants for all you care. Then he moves them down to your waist, and pulls up your black shirt until it's not tucked in your pants and he can sneak under the clothing, your breath hitches but you allow it. The second he's kissing you again he's completely disregarding what you told him about going slow. If it wasn't for him holding you, your arms on which you were resting your weight would've given out.

"Can I?" You barely manage to get away from him to ask, and he nods quickly before kissing you again.

Your arms go around his neck, just enough to push him closer to you but at the same time trying not to overwhelm him. What did slow mean again? He realizes how touch starved he is, that it's not that he didn't want to be touched at all, he wanted to be touched by someone he knew would never hurt him. He needed to know that said touch wasn't meant to harm him or didn't have any second intentions to do so. Jason understands, right in that moment, that he wanted you back as much as wanted revenge on Batman. He's lifting you up so you sit on the desk, a hand leaving your waist just to guide your legs to wrap around him. He starts to lift your shirt up, but you stop him. You couldn't bear the feeling of someone else's hands taking off your clothes, not again. It almost felt like you could hear her voice again, telling you all about how you were such a cute thing and you were lucky her and her homicidal maniac of a partner were looking out for you from other immates-- and staff members. Worst part was you knew deep down she wasn't lying about that. You desperately don't want to go back there, not now.

"I'm sorry-"you whisper, and he recognizes that tone and that look in your face. It's the same as his own "let me..."

He only hums in agreement and gives you some space so you can take your black shirt off. Your fingers curl trying to get a hold of the chest-plate of his armor when you drag him back to kiss you. You feel his warm hands on your waist again, lowering down and keeping you in place. There was no running away now, not that you wanted to. Jason was not letting go of you tonight, his hold staying the same as his kisses go from your lips to your neck, right over your pulse point. He guides your hand to where you could take the suit off, and you learn fast working on undoing buckles and belts to rid him of the unnecessary layer of metal right now.

"I missed you" he whispers against your neck, you were blushing now.

"I missed you too" You sigh, the chest armor dropping to the floor with a loud noise that almost makes both of you flinch.

You had your eyes closed up until that moment where he stopped. You caught him staring at the tattoo on your hip. They were numbers small enough not to draw attention to them, written in a way you could've passed it off as a date in case anyone asked but its real purpose was to serve to recognize you in case you died. That was if the tracker under your skin was taken out or your face was unrecognizable. It made you feel like branded livestock, as if you were just an object. You always avoid looking at it and he should do the same. Now it was your turn to grab his chin and lead his face to look at you. Jason wasn't the only one troubled in this relationship, you had your own issues too.

"Don't" you scold, setting a clear boundary. Which he respects, he won't ask about it and if you don't want him to stare he won't.

He evens you out by taking the black long-sleeved t-shirt he wore under the suit and you don't want to stare but good God... Your eyes rush from his abs back to his eyes and you catch him smirking, you let out a giggle at the thought of him teasing you for it. He was about to do the same to you, make you look up so you wouldn't pay attention to his scars but when he noticed they were your eyes looked he knew that's not what distracted you. It felt almost normal, like you were a normal girl and a normal guy about to hook up. Of course in the back of your head you knew it wasn't the case but you allowed yourself to cling into that sense of normalcy. He's grateful that you ignore his more visible scars, that you still see him as the guy you met in Gotham so long ago. He wants to think that in your eyes at least he wasn't a failure.

"I'm sorry," He whispers, both hands cupping your face tenderly as if he wasn't holding your entire skull in them "I get it now... why you couldn't tell me, and that I treated you like shit"

"Yeah, you were a bit of an asshole" You tease with a chuckle.

He presses a soft kiss to your lips and you almost paw at his wrists when you feel like he's pulling away from you. "Will you forgive me?"

"Jay-" You murmur, seeing the tears forming in his eyes, it's the softest voice he's ever heard "I already have"

*.*

His mouth only meets yours again for a few seconds before he pushes everything off the desk, dusty papers falling everywhere and all over the floor. He's pressed up against your core when he lays you down on your back. This is were he belongs, your legs wrapped around him as he plasters kisses all over your jaw, your neck and collarbone, just anywhere he could reach. How soft lips welcome him again and again, it's like a dream come true, and your warm skin against him which he can't get enough of. His hands are steady at your waist, making sure to keep you in place, yours busy themselves tugging at the short hair on the back of his neck.

"Jay" you moan, closing your eyes. Fuck, if he wanted to have you like this he could.

"My-my ro-room's over the-" He stutters, you've barely even touched the guy and he already felt like he was melting at your touch-you were making him soft and hard all at the right places. "over there"

"You wanna take me there?" You flirt with a pout and he nods with a weak uh-huh.

Soon he's dragging you up to pick you up, a giggle escapes your lips feeling his hands on your ass. You push away the thought of how much it was turning you on to be manhandled like this.Your hands slide down to his shoulders to steady yourself as he takes you to the well hidden room connected to this office. You don't get much time to appreciate the room decor--there isn't any-- before you are laying flat on your back again, this time against a mattress. He unties your boots so you can kick them off, then your pants come off with only a bit of help from him with dropping them to the floor and he takes a step back, getting a good look at you.

"I don't have any..." he hesitates, " 'm not really sleeping around here"

"You're not?" You tease, a feet reaching for him playfully and he catches your ankle to stop you rolling his eyes in the process, his gorgeous blue eyes. "I won't catch anything from you?"

"Fuck, no" Jason scoffs, as if he didn't test himself for every disease know to man when he got out of Arkham. Besides, like he said he wasn't sleeping around, he wasn't sleeping at all--in every sense of the word.

"It's okay"

"I won't catch anything from you?" He repeats the question, and you shake your head no with a smirk "not even a kid?"

"Don't worry about that," you blush, looking away "it won't happen"

He hums in acknowledgment as his hand slides down from your ankle to your knee, parting your legs so he can settle between them again. Your heart was racing at the feeling of his hand trailing higher up your thigh, until he pushed your underwear to the side. His eyes were fixed on you, watching every reaction you had to know what you liked. What made you feel better.

"Jay-" you moaned.

"Hm?" It was almost mocking how he hid his face on your neck plating wet kisses on your skin.

"Want you"

"Want me what?" He teases, and you can't take it anymore. You grab his face with both your hands to make him look at you again before kissing him.

"Want you to fuck me" The determination in your voice had him nodding and sliding off your underwear and his own remaining clothes.

He bites back whatever sound wanted to leave his lips when he slides inside you, he's too busy watching your mouth part in a gasp and your eyes shut. He takes it slow, letting you adjust-- and getting used to the overwhelming feeling of being so close to you. He's over you, he's surrounding you like he's the only thing that exists in this world. His heartbeat slows down, looking down at the most beautiful sight he's ever seen. Jason thinks that just like this he may as well eat you alive, at least that way there will be no more lies . That if he somehow managed to swallow you whole then he could know everything about you, the way you do about him. He's only pulled back to reality when he feels your hands at his shoulders, moving faster than what he could think he grabs your wrists to pin your hands over your head. His breath hitches and his heart skips a beat when your eyes meet again, only then he starts to move.

"I love you" he lets out after a few moments, letting go of your hands, his voice is low too low.

"I love you too" You nod, noticing the tears rolling down his cheeks and softly wiping them away with your thumbs.

He brushes it off, he's not ready for this-all of this intimacy. He doesn't stop though, he just moves away to stand upright, throwing your legs over his shoulders. You moan when you feel how much deeper he could go like this. He can't help himself around you, every wall he put up to distance himself from others disappear whenever you were around. It wouldn't matter how much you lied to him, or how much you hurt him, you took his heart and it would stay with you no refunds. I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm all yours, he wants to say but wouldn't bear the thought of you not saying the same so he'd keep it to himself.

"What-what's wrong?" You ask in a whisper when his movement falters, your cheeks flushed. You are so close.

"Nothing, just keep taking me like that pretty girl" The nickname makes you go crazy, now? He used to call you that only because he knew how much it embarrassed you. Unlucky for you, he liked seeing you flustered.

" 'M close, Jay" you whine, and he lowers a hand right where you needed it, the added pressure throwing you over the edge.

The way you feel around him is enough to push him over the edge mere seconds later, coming undone with a string of whispers of your name, again and again like a prayer. His head falls on your chest as you both try to catch your breath. Him wrapping his arms around your waist, holding himself closer to you if that was even possible as you pressed kisses to the top of his head.

*.*

"Hey, Jay" You call out to him in a hoarse whisper "are you awake?"

You get no answer from his sleeping form next to you, at some point you decide to trace his figure with your fingers, as if it'd help you remember him when you leave. You start with his jaw, then to his neck and his shoulders, feeling the rough skin under your fingertips. He really ought to buy some moisturizer, you scoff to yourself. You press a kiss between his shoulder blades before working your way down his arm. Your eyes got a bit teary looking at his scars, the carved out H+J in heart, the long slashes, the burn scar over his right shoulder. He had been through so much and he was still alive and kicking, sleeping next to you. You wish you could've come for him sooner, you didn't blame him for hating Batman. Hell you even had a few run-ins of your own with him because of it. Batman's own grief be damned he was supposed to be the world's greatest detective looking for his partner , the teenager he got to join him and the kid he was meant to take care of . He wasn't supposed to replace him that easily, it made you feel like you were the only one who cared about Jason. All this suffering he went through... it could've been helped, he didn't have to endure that. Your mind wanders to what that psycho did to him, if it was even worse than what you were put through, if he begged him to finish the job, the sight of him covered in blood- his own blood, beaten and branded, his empty eyes when you first saw him and then the flash of hope when he saw you which quickly washed away when he realized that you were there too.

You have to push back the images of what was done to you too, before you feel like you're outside of your body again or that you lose your grip on reality, again. You would never admit it to him but after he left the safe house you were brought back to the headquarters and couldn't get out of bed for almost six months, nothing felt real, your own thoughts felt too slow, your body too heavy too move. A major depressive episode, that's what your superiors classified it as. You knew it wasn't losing him that triggered it, it was the added of weight you'd been caring on your shoulders for too long and the fact that now you had nothing in your life that you even liked. Normaly they would've force-fed antidepressants to whatever agent that went through what you did but you wouldn't let anyone get closer than 2 meters, freezing more than one poor medic or nurse that was sent to see you. Or when they got to you and you reversed the effects of it, just out of spite. Eventually they gave up and waited as not even threats to your sister phased you. "Kill her and see how it goes for you," you said on a rare day where you found yourself able to speak "you'll have nothing to keep me here"

"What are you doing?" You don't even register him asking. He turns to face you and he notices you crying, only then do you realize he's awake so you wipe your tears as fast as you can. It is good for nothing, he already knows you're crying.

"I'm sorry, 's not the best thing to wake up to, huh?" You chuckle trying to pass off your own wave of sadness that just hit you.

"What's wrong?" He insists, was it him that made you so upset?

"Nothing's wrong, Jason" You lie, and he can see right through it.

"No, come on... keep going" He's using that tone again, the one that has you weakening every resolve and your knees giving out just to give him whatever he asked for, that whiny and needy voice that was reserved just for you. He also takes your hand and pushes it to his chest, wanting you to take off from where you left. Instead you move your hand underneath his to hold it, fingers interlocked as you leave a soft kiss to his knuckles. The feel of your lips on his skin, his harsh and calloused skin that has only known violence, has him blushing.

"I have to leave," you state, finally breaking the bubble you two were in since he took you to his office "I'd empty this place asap if I were you"

He steals a look at the watch behind him, the hours he spent with you are still on a single digit, that's all he gets with you. You get up, looking for your clothes that had been discarded all over the room mere hours ago.

"Fine" he scoffs, sitting on the bed and crossing his arms over his chest. Acting all tough and annoyed as the wound of you leaving reopens. He knows you'll never change your ways, he should've known you were heartache from the moment he met you. Jason knew nothing had changed, he doesn't know why he was even sad about you not choosing to stay with him. "Will I ever see you again?"

There's a beat of silence, you have your back turned to him so he can't see what kind of face you're making but he can see how you're pulling your pants up your ass. "I hope so, that was..." you puff and fan yourself with a hand.

He grabs your wrist when you get closer to the bed looking for your shoes, a sigh of your name has your gaze softening as you look back at him. Your lips pull up in a smile, caressing his face and sitting on his lap over the sheets."Bludhaven, find me there when you're done with whatever this is"

He nods, a hand of his going to your nape. He's trying to make you stay a little longer, even if it's just for a few moments and you know it so you give his scared cheek a sweet kiss. Find me when you're done with whatever this is, he can do that. He can wait a few more weeks for you.

"Where-" he starts, but you're no longer there. He felt your weight on him just a moment ago and now you were gone, he didn't even see your eyes light up before you made your way out of the place. You were probably on your way back, lying through your teeth about what you've been up to. And to that he sighs, getting up to get dressed and thinks "I've got to get my shit together, haven't worked this much for nothing"

A/N: not to copy paste all of my author's notes but I referenced like 3 songs so if you notice lmk :D

#w: jason #i mean this is part of a series but you could read it on its own i think #w: slm #jason todd x reader #ak!jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader angst #jason todd x reader smut #(kinda ig???)#jason todd x you

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wisteriadaydreams · 2 years

Note

Can you write a Tanjiro oneshot where he realizes his feelings for the reader after Nezuko gets annoyed at him because keeps crashing girl time between her and the reader while they're all recuperating after a mission at the Butterfly Mansion because he wants to spend time with the reader and Nezuko getting annoyed at him lets him realizes his feelings?

PARTY CRASHER

pairing: Kamado Tanjirō x fem!reader

genre: fluff

words: 1.9k

Part 1

Nezuko can sing praises about her older brother for hours.

She thinks he’s one of the most observant and perceptive people she has ever known, even with his sensitive nose providing an advantage. He’s the kind of person that would subtly lend a hand, showing his kindness through small gestures. At the same time, he is not hesitant to step up and defend for others when the situation calls for it.

He’s someone who would always take the smaller portion of food, who would remember what someone likes and dislikes and how they prefer their food to the last detail, who was trusted by the whole village to mediate a fight while also knowing when to take a step back.

And yet, for all of his attunement to other people’s emotions, he is glaringly and unbearingly out of touch with his own heart.

Case in point, he is wholly convinced the only reason he is seeking you out is because he likes spending time with you.

Now, would Nezuko say that this sentiment is not valid? Of course not. After all, she likes to be in your company herself. You have an inexplicable comforting and heartwarming presence that she could bask in and forget for a moment that she is anything but human. That is not to mention your kindness, tenderness, bravery, and willingness to help others. And it’s nice to be with a girl close to her age for once.

(The boys do provide good company, but there are times when she needs a break from their rowdiness.)

To be honest, she could easily sing praises about you as well.

So yes, Nezuko can fully understand why he likes to be in your presence. Her annoyance comes with the fact that he incessantly seeks you out. Every. Single. Night.

Even on nights that he’s fully aware you’re spending time with her.

The first time it happened, she could forgive her older brother for barging into some private girls’ time, as she does enjoy being with him. Ever since her speech became limited due to the bamboo muzzle, she has become content with sitting back and listen to other people talk. Furthermore, it’s clear from the way you visibly brighten up when he walks into the room that you like being with him, too. No harm done with letting him in for a few hours.

The next few times it happened, she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and reasoned that he simply didn’t know that this was supposed to be private time. However, when it began to occur every single time you decide to spend time with her (he’s using his nose to find you, she knows it), Nezuko began to have an inkling that there’s more going on.

After all, her older brother is already hounding your time in the daylight, what with training and eating meals together and all. What other reason could he have for wanting to monopolize your time during the night as well?

Her answer comes late one evening, when you were running a comb through her hair and humming a simple melody under your breath, the notes seeming to seep into her skin and making her remember happier times. It would have been like any other night if Nezuko hadn’t catch the adoring look in Tanjirō’s eyes.

It’s different from the tender and protective gaze that would watch over their younger siblings whenever they play around with one another. It’s also different from the glimmer that would make his eyes sparkle and his smile to stretch from ear to ear when he’s around his friends.

This is like a fire that is lit from the inside, tempering his molten red eyes into gemstones that catch and reflect the light. It glitters like crystalline snow on a sunny day, and then softens until it resembles a low-burning hearth that warms more than just one’s body.

He looks at you like you’re embers, like stars, like fireworks and the sun and every source of light rolled into one.

(He looks at you like how their father used to look at their mother.)

Nezuko wonders how she could have missed such a look, for once she noticed it, she realizes that he looks at you like that all the time. She wonders if he knows he looks at you like that. She wonders if you know that such a gaze is reserved for you only.

Unfortunately, she can’t ask you that when her brother’s in the room.

But even without verbal confirmation, she’s able to pick up signs that more or less answers her question.

From the way both of you hang on to each other’s words to how he would sneak into the kitchen to bring you your favorite snacks, to how you fuss over him for training too much and pushing his body to the limit.

To how you look at him like he’s the sun rising over the mountains, like the moon on a starless night, like flowers and the gentle breeze and everything beautiful in nature.

And while this revelation makes her happier than anything else, there’s only so much patience a person can have watching two oblivious individuals so blatantly mooning and pining over each other. So, Nezuko resolves to do something about it, for both of your sakes (and for her sanity).

She decides to approach her brother first, fully knowing that any attempt at breaching the topic with you would promptly be interrupted by him anyway. When the night falls, the young girl zips through the hall like a slayer on a mission, intent on finding Tanjirō. Soon enough, she spots the burgundy hue of his hair as he walks down the hallway, and without wasting a moment, she grabs his hands and drags him into the nearest room.

“W-woah! Nezuko, slow down! What’s wrong?”

She turns to face him after closing the door, conviction burning in her eyes. Now comes the hard part, how is she going to get through to her brother without her speech?

“Nezuko, is everything alright?” Tanjirō asks in concern, trying to understand why his little sister just pulled him into a room like there’s a crisis.

She makes a few noises that would take a mind reader to decipher, but it seems to him that she’s trying to figure out something.

Suddenly, an idea flashes in her head, and she quickly snatches one of his hands, turning it over so that his palm faces her. Nezuko taps her nail on his palm emphatically as a sign to tell him to pay attention. She slowly begins to write words on to the surface, making sure to mind her speed so he has enough time to process them.

“Onii-chan...I think...you like... (Y/N)-chaaA-EEHH? W-w-what are you talking about?”

Nezuko had anticipated this reaction somewhat, but she didn’t expect his voice to suddenly rival that of Zenitsu’s. She taps his palm multiple times to get him to focus.

“You know what I mean, onii-chan. You’ve been spending a lot of time with her.”

“That’s because she’s my friend.” He waves his free hand around frantically. “Why wouldn’t I want to spend time with her?”

The young girl gives him a deadpan look. “You’ve been spending time with her almost every single night for the past few weeks, even when she’s with me.”

“Yeah, well, that’s...so I like hanging out with her. But I don’t spend that much time around her...right?”

“Onii-chan, my room has essentially become your room now. It’s fine the first few times, but it’s hard to get some alone time with just her, you know. She’s my friend, too.” Nezuko huffs, and her brother at least has the decency to look sheepish. “Look, please really think about the reason why you like being around her so much.”

He runs a hand through his hair, his eyes drifting to the ceiling in thought. “Well, she makes me laugh, and she encourages me whenever I’m feeling down. And I like talking to her too, and making her laugh. There’s just something about it, it makes me warm all over every time I hear it. And her smile...one smile from her and I feel like everything is better. No matter how many hours I’ve spent with her, it never feels enough. She...she makes me feel comfortable, like I’m safe. Like I’m...home.” He utters the word reverently, like it’s something sacred and holy. Red colors his cheeks like blooming roses. “I feel all tingly and soft inside, like I’m lying on a bed of clouds. But then there are times when I feel like my nerves are all on fire when I’m around her, my tongue gets all tied up, and my feet seems to stop all function. I don’t think...I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before. What is this?”

“I think you already know the answer to that, onii-chan.” She finishes, her eyes softening as she watches the revelation dawn on him. He lights up for one dazzling moment, and then his expression proceeds to crumble.

“Oh no! How am I supposed to face her now?! What am I going to do, what am I going to do?” He paces rapidly around the room. “I feel like my heart’s going to burst!”

Nezuko takes a hold of his shoulders to stop him from burning a hole through the floor. She turns him around to face her, firmly squeezing them to get him to calm down.

“Nezuko, what if she doesn’t return my feelings?” His head hangs.

‘Oh, if only you knew.’ She makes a series of what she hopes sounds like reassuring noises, while clenching her fists in a “it’s okay” motion.

“Are you saying that I shouldn’t worry?”

“Hhmm!”

“Well, what can I do?” It’s not like I can just walk up to her and tell her how I feel...” He trails off at the sparkling look in his sister's eyes. “WHAT?! NO-NO, I can’t do that!!”

She nods vigorously and continues to try and encourage him all the while hoping that his head doesn’t explode like a volcano. Her poor brother looks like he has steam coming out of his ears.

“What would I even say? What if I stutter or trip over my words like a fool in front of her?”

Nezuko rolls her eyes and snatches his hand again, quickly jotting down some words for him.

“Just tell her how you feel. She’ll understand.”

He stares down at his palm, the words his sister wrote down imprinting on him until they were bones deep. “You know what? You’re right, Nezuko. I’ll–I’ll tell her. The worst that could happen is we remain friends.” He swallows as his heart clenches. He then pulls her into a hug. “Thank you, Nezuko! I’m going to find her right now!”

The girl flings her arms into the air and lets out a string of cheerful noises. As her brother runs out of the room, she makes sure to give him a few reassuring pats on the shoulder. She gazes after the sight of his disappearing back and shakes her head affectionately.

Hopefully her brother will go through his plan and save everyone from having to continue seeing you two act like pining, lovesick puppies. Speaking of which, if he does, then that means you two will become a couple, huh?

That would mean romantic dates, wouldn’t it? And you would probably want to spend more time around each other.

“Wait...” Nezuko swirls around in panicked realization. “Does that mean he’s going to continue to cling to her in the night?”

She slams open the shoji door and chases after her brother.

“ONII-CHAN!!!”

➺ All of the following works belong to me. Please don’t repost, copy, or steal my content off of Tumblr. Plagiarism will not be tolerated.

#kamado tanjiro #tanjiro #tanjiro x reader #tanjiro x y/n #tanjiro oneshots #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #sunshine of my life #he's my sun #a dream come true #wisty writes

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Straight Laced, Chapter VIII: To Be A Keen Observer…

Description: After the London’s Royal Ballet company’s prima ballerina goes missing within a string of mysterious disappearances among the ballet’s young ballerinas, you finally get your chance to debut in the leading role, taking on the position’s physical toil and immense social pressure. Although this role was supposed to be your grand jeté into the spotlight, it is quickly complicated when these disappearances catch the eye of Ciel Phantomhive — the Queen’s Guard Dog. He is a captious and shrewd man who also happens to be one of London’s most eligible bachelors.

For enough profit for you to secure your freedom for the first time, Lord Phantomhive double casts you as both his accomplice to solving these dancer disappearances and… his pretend lover. While debuting as London’s new prima ballerina, you must perfect a brand new routine: deceiving all of the nation’s polite society while actively searching for a serial killer — all while being an immigrant from France with a dancer’s reputation.

What could go wrong when you realize this off-stage performance of yours may not be an act at all?

Story Warnings: detailed description of gore, pain, and violence, detailed death, smut & explicit sexual scenes, allusions to non-consensual sex, objectification, prostitution, allusions to under-aged prostitution, smoking, drinking, eating disorder tendencies (food restriction, frequent references to wanting to maintain a certain weight, over-practicing & exercising), infidelity, fake courtship, swearing

Author’s Note: I have nothing to say for myself, besides thank you so much for reading! And thank you so much for sticking with me. I’m sorry about that last cliffhanger. (Kind of.)

Dan

⇐ PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER ⇒

MASTERLIST

November 10, 1895

The British Museum

The Yard. The press. Throngs of pedestrians fleeing from the museum to catch a glimpse of the chaos. Flashing lenses immortalizing Maisie Stannard’s bleeding body, craning necks, overlapping questions.

“Lord Phantomhive, Lord Phantomhive, who’dunnit?” someone demanded, sick comedy in their voice.

Now the public knew. They no longer had the benefit of a quiet investigation.

The Same Night, Hours Later

Ciel’s Estate

The evening’s fiasco was practically the worst-case scenario for any crime scene, Ciel thought, staring into the lively orange licks of flames in his fireplace. The contained inferno crackled, demolishing the kindling Finny packed inside moments before their return.

The fall night was brisk, the draft blowing against his window, causing balding tree branches to scream.

Finally left alone, the Earl of Phantomhive loosened his tie, slouched behind his desk, and allowed his fingers to knit in his dark hair. He released a frustrated groan he’d long been holding, spat out a curse he’d long bit down in the face of the curious public. They wanted to construct a story that would attempt to broadcast Ciel’s shock, but he would never give them the satisfaction of witnesssing a Phantomhive plan go awry.

Still, the predicament was an embarrassment. He wanted the killer to be William, but the suspect never truly felt proper—even as he watched the Yard escorted the man in handcuffs. He’d merely convinced himself William was completely guilty because it was the most convenient solution, and that was worse than a confident response being wrong.

Ciel’s eye strained from analyzing the list of guests from the gala. The names and titles were forged into his brain, and yet, how could he stop? Another person was dead because of his shortsightedness. It was a smear on his name and reputation, one far worse than courting a prima ballerina.

At the end of the day, he should have known better. It was too convenient for the killer to be William. Ciel doubted he had much of a capacity to kill—not the intellect, not the bravado, and not the motive.

Was he a violent criminal who took what he felt he deserved no matter who he hurt? Certainly. But was he intelligent enough to poison a young woman slowly using dimethylmercury? To lure a young woman to a bridge and dispose of her in the river beneath? Not to Ciel. He had to be missing a significant part of this investigation. What could he be missing? Who could he be ignoring?

Someone had to have known William’s crimes against members of his company, and plotted to frame him. The death had to be connected to the rest of them—too convenient to be a coincidence. Y/n knew her. They were both part of the same company— rivals, even. All of the dancers were a part of this company, at one point in their short-lived careers. Even the victims who were working somewhere new during their time of death or the last day they were seen, worked under William at one point in time.

Y/n said that the incidents all seem to take place on Thursdays, Fridays, and Sundays. Days where the full company rehearsed The Nutcracker in full, and Natasha was occupied with costume fittings. The company was in its last two weeks of playing Swan Lake and now it was preparing to welcome the holiday season with the festive ballet. It always had a popular run, causing it to start at the end of November until the weekend after Christmas.

That couldn’t be a coincidence, either. Ciel thought it incriminated William because it ensured that his company— including his wife — would be at their most distracted. Perhaps, the real killer assumed Ciel would draw that conclusion. They would have needed to break into William’s South Hampton home to plant the weapon used to kill Janet Fischer, as well. It seemed that estate was the only property William left unkept.

“I’ve brought your tea, my Lord,” Sebastian said, his habit of breaking Ciel’s focus entirely too common. The Earl knew better than to be startled by his demon butler. After all, the being was at the mercy of his orders. They both knew the terms of their contract intimately well: Sebastian obeyed all of Ciel’s commands and once they apprehend those responsible for the deaths of the previous Phantomhive heads, Sebastian could consume his soul.

“How damned am I, Sebastian?” Ciel asked, half pressing for what the butler made of tonight’s accident and half assessing the damage dealt between him and Y/n, given that the butler had just delivered her a night snack. She was never one to hide her feelings, surely giving Sebastian an earful about how Ciel managed to offend her. Uncovering just what had sent Y/n into her tirade beckoned at Ciel more than he liked, distracting him even more than the investigation was. The prima ballerina was so nonchalant about her promiscuity; could their relations have truly meant that much to her?

Did she feel an inescapable sense of dread and thrill around him, too? A spark so addicting that all she could do was be near him? Just like a good sip of that sweet wine she adored.

“What are you referring to?” While the butler poured a cup of tea, he lifted an eyebrow at the Earl, questioning him. A knowing smile pulled at his lips.

“Don’t you play dumb. You know whom I speak of.” The irritation in Ciel’s voice filled the room.

Sebastian merely chuckled at him. “How do you think making an enemy out of the Norfolk duchy by refusing his only daughter would end for you, sir?” His question was anything but accusatory— amused at most. Curious to get an idea of Ciel’s honest priorities: the wise match, Caroline and her presumptuous mother, or the correct match. The prima ballerina. His prima ballerina, as they worked so hard to make the public believe.

Except, they didn’t understand how much Ciel was just as much her Earl of Phantomhive.

All there was in polite society was Gwen, insisting she and Caroline come to his estate for tea. A meeting he was far from in the position to reject, out of respect to the current Duke of Norfolk. Ciel should have put a formal end to the slow beginnings of courtship he’d hinted to Caroline. At the time, he felt there was nothing to end, since nothing had really begun.

Had the Norfolk line not been in jeopardy, Ciel doubted Gwen would have continued to pursue him for Caroline with such insistence, especially after he announced his courtship of Y/n. Without a male heir, the duchy needed to secure its new duke by marrying Caroline to a suitable noble. The position had been attractive at the time, but now, Ciel hardly felt the appeal. Instead, he intended to tell Y/n that Gwen invited herself to the estate for tea after she forced him to share a cordial dance with her daughter, but Y/n fled the ballroom before he could.

“I could withstand it. And if I could not, you would see me through,” Ciel insisted, turning his gaze back down to the names on his newest list of names— a compilation of suspects with motivation to either kill company ballerina Maise Stannard or the wife of a plagiarizing artist with a legion of enemies. “Unless something changed in our contract within the last seven-some years?” Ciel prompted, scowling at the supernatural being.

The side of Sebastian’s mouth twitched. “Of course not,” he confirmed, “though I may not be able to shield you from the wrath of a woman scorned. Those dangers are entirely different from one another, you’ll come to understand.”

Such reflecting over his personal life was a painful waste of effort. He needed to prioritize his thoughts. Another person died, dammit.

The distinction between company ballerina Maisie and wife of conman Maisie was critical because it decided whether the serial killer was bold enough to kill in front of a high-end gala lined with security or if one of Stannard’s enemies was sending him a message.

Ciel’s eyebrows knit together, unsure if Sebastian was referring to Y/n or Caroline. He cared significantly more about the former. Though, it was only fair to note that Y/n never made her intentions clear enough to be shunned in the first place. She was enigmatic, and beautiful with a puzzling charm— Ciel would’ve had to be daft to ignore that about her. But that didn’t translate to wanting him beyond physical companionship… at least it hadn’t until she confronted him.

Though he couldn’t help but wonder: didn’t Y/n know better? Didn’t she understand that she was deserving of someone who could love unconditionally. In what world could he? Ciel couldn’t even promise never to lie to her.

All relationships and promises in Ciel’s life were conditional. He was a self-serving man—the remnants of the disturbed boy who returned to the land of the living seven years ago with a ravenous demon counting the days to the end of their contract. If Ciel couldn’t even promise to never lie to Y/n—how could she expect him to love her? Did she love him?

There was no loving him. Not without letting it destroy her life. They both knew that. And yet… he had already given into his passionate whims with her. He’d already decided to throw his reservations to the wind, the last of his resilience shattering like glass when she broke into sobs caused by him.

“I thought I was protecting her,” Ciel replied simply, taking a drink out of his hot tea. He welcomed the scorching burn as it traveled down his tongue. The warmth filled in his empty chest. ”I did not scorn her.”

It didn’t matter if she loved him, nor did it matter how he felt about her. The consequences of anything more than a partnership between them would be immeasurable no matter what, but he was more than equipped to handle them.

Could Ciel justify trapping a ballerina in a life where the rest of society would remind her that she was an outsider every day? Gwen and Caroline were the least destructive instance of the social persecution Y/n would face for climbing the social ladder so ambitiously as the rest of the world would see it.

When the world looked at Y/n, they didn’t see her natural aptitude for investigation, her intelligence. Her humor. They saw the misdeeds put upon her by forces much greater than herself. They saw the reckless apathy that was placed on all ballerinas, and assumed that it was their own fault.

No one would see the regard in Y/n that Ciel took so long to notice. They misread her. And they would never care to read her properly until it was too late.

Until she condemned them in a tearful diatribe across the street from the British Museum. That spirit was what convinced Ciel that she had the potential to feasibly manage. If such was the life she truly desired for herself.

“Go get another history on Maisie Stannard,” Ciel ordered Sebastian, wanting to be left alone again. He felt the demon attempting to dissect him, and it was suffocating. Sebastian hadn’t even deigned to reply, merely looking at him with unconcealed amusement. He liked watching Ciel wrestle with such foreign conflict, provoking him for sport to further insult the injury— there was nothing insightful he wished to add.

“Yes, my Lord.” After a disingenuous bow, the demon was gone.

November 11, 1895, The Next Morning

Y/n’s Rehearsal Studio

“No,” Y/n’s irritated voice snapped the moment Ciel opened the door of his own estate’s practice room and let himself inside.

Rehearsal studio, rather.

He released a sigh that he’d been holding from the moment Mey-Rin told him that Y/n would be absent from their breakfast table. He knew she would make a childish effort to avoid him, but in all honesty, he lacked the time and the patience to entertain it.

Y/n sat in the middle of the room in a nude leotard, her legs fanned open on either side of her. Her back was straight and elongated, forming a perfect line with her neck. It looked effortless. All of her movements looked light and easy, despite the rage that her pursed lips and creased forehead displayed.

She didn’t need to turn around to look at him. Instead, she ignored his image in the floor-to-ceiling mirror’s reflection in front of them. Ciel had to read her expression from the glass, since she purposely kept her back to him.

Ciel caught the variety of materials sitting between her spread legs, several pairs of newly broken in pointe shoes in a row, scissors, adhesive, and a needle and yarn for sewing. They were the same items Y/n used to break in and darn new pairs of pointe shoes for balance and comfort. Ciel knew this routine well— it cost him hundreds of pounds a week to purchase Y/n five or six new pairs weekly.

“Y/n, we have much to discuss. Skipping meals with me will not put an end to the investigation… nor our personal differences,” Ciel told her, carefully stepping closer with the caution a soldier would in a minefield. He supposed a rehearsal studio was just that for Y/n: a battleground.

“All I wanted was a few hours away from you and your investigation. You cannot even give me that?” Y/n corrected coldly, giving the shoe in her hand a hearty smack against the expensive flooring to further break it in. Apparently, all ballerinas had to make their own custom alteration rituals to break in their shoes the exact way they needed it. Y/n liked to eviscerate her shoes’ insoles and shave down the bottoms, stretch the shoe, repair it with adhesive, and darn the flat bit of it.

His investigation? So now it was only his?

“It is not a crime for a ballerina to break in her shoes—I hardly have time as it is, and Nutcracker opens next week,” she continued, still refusing to look at him. She seemed satisfied with the amount of pressure she put on the shoe and squeezed adhesive into its stretched interior.

Of course she wouldn’t look at him. Ciel embarrassed her because he let his preconceived notions about her professions blind him to the extent of her feelings. Ballerinas like Y/n were not inherently promiscuous, and he, despite having one functioning eye, missed that she felt more for him than lust. In what world does a principal dancer fall for a jaded Earl, anyhow?

And he was somehow even more blindsided by his own intricate feelings for her. It was most likely too late. And that was for the best, wasn’t it? It was supposed to be, but the guilty discomfort that sat in his stomach insisted otherwise. It was simply too late.

“The last time I checked, a certain prima ballerina always insisted it was our investigation,” Ciel replied, watching Y/n’s eyes roll in response.

“Clearly, she did not know what she was talking about,” Y/n put her sewing materials and pointe shoes to the side once she was satisfied with the layers of adhesive applied. She continued facing the mirror, spreading into a center split and pushing her torso to the floor in a deep stretch. “Being wrong about so many things makes a person a true lavette, no?” Her stretching position muffled her voice somewhat, but the vitriol was clear to him.

She was comparing her intellect to a dish towel? Honestly? Ciel fought the urge to reflect the prima ballerina’s scornful eye roll to her.

After all, she purposefully referencing both their investigation and their personal matters— enough to show Ciel that there was little to be achieved with the stubborn ballerina at that time. The blows were too fresh.

“What is there for us to discuss, anyhow? That guest list will take ages to sift through, and Sebastian’s interview notes…” Y/n rolled her shoulders back and sat back up only to inhale and bring her torso back to the floor. Her arms stretched in front of her, showing off the sculpted muscle she forged through dance.

Her leotard clung to the trained muscles down her back and arms, causing Ciel’s mouth to run dry as he adjusted his trousers. (Unintentionally recalling her body’s warmth and strength under his fingertips did little to help.)

That realization caused Ciel to moisten his lips, quietly thankful that Y/n was pointedly averting her gaze from him. She would’ve caught and translated that pensive— scandalous — look in seconds, and rightfully called him out for it.

“I want to visit William today,” Ciel managed, barely maintaining his stable tone in the face of his straying thoughts. “The Yard said the bullet found in Maisie was consistent with his Winchester collection. And I still dislike that the Southampton house is William’s only unstaffed possession.” It was all too convenient. Too connected— down to the murders matching the company’s rehearsal schedule.

Even the gala was on a Nutcracker rehearsal evening: a night where it was guaranteed Natasha Wood had her hands full and the company was half alive after such a rigorous day.

“That sounds like the perfect plan, Lord Phantomhive,” Y/n answered bitterly, extending an arm over her head while she leaned to the side. She still had her legs parted in a center split.

Lord Phantomhive was a gut punch. It took all of his composure to hide his crawling discomfort. That had to be the first time he recoiled from the weight of his surname.

To her, he was Ciel. She had seen to it— demanded it, even.

“You can handle that on your own. He will not talk with me there, surely,” she added, her bored tone causing his fingers to curl into a frustrated fist at his side. Finally catching her stare, he noticed that her eyes were bleary as if she had been crying. Even her lips seemed bitten.

Ciel had to ignore the striking urge in his body that begged him to kiss her. Now that he knew her prowess, the way she moved her lips with the same elegance she did the rest of her body, it made her allure all the more intense. So much so that they forced Ciel to skip several heavy seconds before replying to her poor excuse for not wanting to be in the same room with him. He had been occupied with admiring her.

“I would prefer—” he started to object, only for Y/n to interrupt.

“Please see yourself out. I must rehearse, I am running on borrowed time as it is. The last Swan Lake showing is tonight,” Y/n said expectantly, assuming Ciel didn’t know her performance schedule. He merely happened to have committed it to memory.

Y/n rose to her feet. She was already wearing an older pair of pointe shoes, suggesting that she had been practicing before deciding to break in new shoes.

Having risen from the center of the floor, she took graceful steps closer to the mirror, fully turning her back to him as she put herself in the starting position for the Sugar Plum Fairy Variation. After putting in hours of labor as her unpaid pianist, Ciel could recognize those soft, exaggerated steps anywhere.

His stomach only twisted into a tighter knot, offended that Y/n would prefer to rehearse in complete silence than in his piano playing. After all, she once told him that she couldn’t keep time without it.

In unexpected surrender, Ciel closed the door behind him, softly letting the knob click back into place.

It was simply too late.

The Same Day, Hours Later

Scotland Yard’s London Headquarters

Even for a man living in a holding cell, William Wood did not look well. His facial hair, what was formerly a tasteful goatee, was now untamed and slightly overgrown. Deep exhaustion carved bags under his eyes. His sudden fall from grace seemed to age him years, even though it was only a week or two since Ciel made the arrest.

“They told me you’d be coming to see me today,” William grunted, dressed in plain clothes. He wasn’t formally charged yet, but Ciel and the Yard agreed that the threat of allowing an arrested serial killer to remain free before his sentencing was too great to risk. Ciel also needed easy access to William in the event they were wrong.

The criminal’s gray eyes attempted to bore into Ciel’s soul, but really, they were tired. Unfocused. Desperate. He reminded him of a cornered tiger— too proud to submit, but too exhausted to finish the fight.

“Yes… I have questions that demand answers. From you.” Ciel answered carefully. He exchanged a look with the officers guarding the door, silently urging them to clear their throats and seeing themselves out, guarding from the outside of the room. William’s holding cell sat in an isolated room from the rest of the headquarters. The basement was fortified with cement, making the area drafty and dark.

He wouldn’t reveal the news that there was another murdered ballerina, but there were other means to extract the information the situation required.

A condescending smirk twitched at William’s lips, unsurprised. “And you expect me to talk? To you?” He asked, his jubilant tone dripping with malice. “You’ve ruined my life, my wife’s…our livelihood.”

“No one forced you to cheat on your wife. Or assault defenseless young women. Or murder them in cold blood,” Ciel snapped, raising his tone. Natasha, from what Y/n said, was running the entirety of the company without William in the first place. She didn’t need him— he was a pathetic excuse for an heir to a business. That had to be clearer to her than anyone.

Only now, he made her work infinitely more complicated. Especially since the body of Maisie Stannard was plastered all over the front pages of most newspapers that morning, each depicting the mysterious murder that occurred near one of the side entrances of The British Museum.

“You don’t talk about my wife to me,” William’s fingers curled into fists at his sides as he took a step closer to the cell’s bars that separated them. His complexion was shades lighter. “I never killed anyone, either,” he was sure to remind Ciel.

“You will answer my questions, one way or another. How much of your blood gets spilled depends entirely on you, William,” Ciel replied, appreciating the cell wall that separated them. One of them was vulnerable, and it was certainly not him. It would never be.

The Earl pressed the nose of his Nanget Revolver into William’s hip, sliding the nose of the weapon between the bars. He smiled at the defeat that fought the stubborn ferocity in William’s colorless irises, placidly putting the weapon back into his jacket pocket just as smoothly as he’d taken it out.

“Do we have an understanding here?” Ciel asked impatiently. “I am only interested in the truth.”

It was exhilarating to watch the desperate fire extinguish in William’s face, the fighting militance in his shoulders dissipate. His fists unfurled as he sighed, coming to terms with his defeat. He was just smart enough to understand that concept— a lesson Ciel and Y/n fought hard to teach him.

“It’s not like I have a choice,” the former businessman crossed his arms, ignoring the weapon that Ciel threatened him with.

“Your Southampton house,” Ciel started, “why is it unstaffed? When was the last time you were there, before you instructed Y/n Y/l/n to meet you there?”

“I told Natasha I sold it, but it’s been my family’s for generations. I used the place for… meetings I didn’t want her to know about,” William sighed, choosing his words cautiously. “That time with…Y/n… was the first time I’ve been there since my trip to France. So I haven’t been since the end of September. Do I get to know why you’re asking?” He asked sarcastically.

The last time Janet was seen was September 27th.

“When did you leave, William?” Ciel asked with a newfound sense of urgency overriding his frustrations with the man. His mouth was dry, his heartbeat picking up. “Do you know the exact day you departed?”

William shrugged, either not noticing Ciel’s pique or not caring. “September 28th, probably? Early morning.”

Is that enough time to murder a woman— she was projected to have died late that night — hide the murder weapon in Southampton, and return to the London ports by dawn to leave the country? It wasn’t.

”Did anyone have access to your property? Anyone?”

“No one should have. I only… asked my wife to dispose of hers, after I told her I sold the property,” William frowned. It seemed it was only dawning on the careless man that his wife might have lied to him, curious as to the lack of official documentation from the sale, any shift in finances, given the major role in managing their company, according to Y/n.

“She wouldn’t… think I still use the property…” he mumbled the afterthought slowly with disbelief.

The more Ciel asked of William, the more of him and Natasha he understood. They fell in love because she transferred from a ballet school in Russia and starred in a company production of Sleeping Beauty. William was still learning how to run the company, one of the investments out of a larger corporation, but he fell in love with Natasha, the prima ballerina, at the time.

Natasha overworked herself in the role, causing a hip injury to end her professional career only a year into it. And that was two years ago. Now she was the company’s director—nothing like the inspired dancer she once was, William insisted.

He lost sight of his love for the young ingenue because the injury killed her. What was left was a completely different woman. Tired, bitter, frustrated from what she lost...only for her marriage to slowly decline the more she lost herself.

Opportunity, motive…was there a means? It was now of the utmost importance that Ciel found the answer to that question. No matter how Y/n would feel about his investigating Natasha, her mentor. Ciel trusted his instinct—the tugging in the pit of his stomach. The alarm that he felt.

How could he not have seen it sooner? He needed to leave. He needed to stop her before she left for her performance.

It took a frenzied carriage ride through the crowded London streets, but Sebastian’s demonic carriage driving managed to put Ciel in front of his manor just as Y/n was leaving for the opera house. He was always chasing after her, it seemed, but he didn’t care.

For her, he would. She would, for him. Or before he broke her heart, she might have. He was too late, in that regard, but he could stop her here and now.

“Y/n, stop, this is important!” Ciel stumbled out of his carriage, having stepped out of it before Sebastian could stop entirely. He had to intercept her.

The ballerina scoffed at the nerve of him, begging her to stop in her tracks and hear him out for the second instance in a row. At the same time, Ciel demanded that Finny keep Y/n’s carriage stationery for the moment through a brief look, causing his gardener’s superhuman grip to tighten on the horses’ reins. He gave Ciel a resolute nod, his jaw firm.

“What? Is this chasing a daily occurrence?” Y/n quipped bitterly, just as Ciel expected her to. “You have never cared to attend one of my performances before,” she accused, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. Her hand fell still on the carriage door’s handle, frowning at him.

“I have reason to suspect that Natasha is—“ he started gravely, pronouncing his words carefully. He knew what Y/n would say, but he could only prove this theory with her help. If Ciel was right, one misstep could make them the adversaries of one incredibly violent, envious, and dangerous criminal who played the role of a wistful, wise mentor. And played it well.

Immediately, Y/n’s face reddened, defensive. “Stop,” she insisted, her voice hoarse. She turned the handle on the carriage door, causing Ciel to reach out and grab it himself, his hand engulfing hers.

He needed her to approach this logically.

Y/n’s face jerked to look at him, her hand attempting to move with the same speed, but Ciel’s grip kept hers stagnant. She gave their hands a long, hard look.

“You have no idea what Natasha has done for so many of us, how little I would have without her. She would never do this to any of us,” Y/n’s voice wavered.

And what has she done for you? She allows men to abuse you. She encourages you to skip nourishment to maintain some shallow aesthetic. She hasn’t reported any of these missing cases to any of you—

“—She does not know about them!” Y/n interrupted, wide eyed, tears threatening to fall. He had said that out loud. “I would not have this opportunity without her. I have known her for years. You, I have known for? A month? You care about me as much as she does? At all?”

“I care about you more than you know, Y/n,” Ciel replied, trying to keep his voice measured, in spite of his pounding heart. He could feel his pulse racing.

“You do not.”

“I do.”

“Then you show it by dancing with another woman in front of me? By inviting her to your home where I live as a guest the night after we were intimate?” Y/n asked, tears rolling down her cheeks. Ciel’s stomach sank. That was what had caused her outburst at the party: Gwen had lied to her. He didn’t invite the duchess; the duchess had invited herself.

His crime was failing to properly refuse her at the gala. Ciel intended to send his regrets the following day by insisting he had an overseas meeting.

“I did not invite the duchess and her daughter. Gwen seems to have lied to you,” he said, the force behind his words extinguishing. “I realized… that… I don’t want my marriage to be a business venture. I don’t want Caroline to be my Countess—I’ve hardly ever spoken to her! I would want…” he let his next word hang in the air. It filled the few centimeters that separated them.

You.

“I need to leave now or I will be late,” Y/n’s free hand wiped away another tear that escaped her tired eyes. “This is my last Swan Lake performance, Ciel. Please.”

She didn’t believe him. And he didn’t blame her. He had warned her about himself a long time ago.

Every instinct in Ciel refused, but he released the hand that he held stagnant on the carriage door handle. “Fine. You may,” he sighed, exchanging the same look with Finny. Y/n opened the carriage and sat inside, closing the door in his face. Again.

“Sebastian, this is an order. You will protect her as you would myself. Now go. Stay out of sight unless the situation demands it.”

In the meantime, Ciel could escort himself to the performance. He had a chance. No way in hell would he let himself squander it.

The Same Evening

The Royal Opera House

For the entirety of his life, Ciel was a keen observer. He could see through a liar’s carefully constructed facade by a glance, the bravado and charismatic grace that Y/n enlisted to maintain her confidence. The Phantomhive empire was as prosperous as it was because of his ability to read and interpret those around him… and manipulate them accordingly.

Now, all of his expert focus fell on the prima ballerina, just as blazing and intense as the spotlight that illuminated her.

Until this point, Ciel avoided attending Y/n’s performances because they knew they were spellbinding. He was more than aware of her talents—even watching her mumble through her moves as she rehearsed was enchanting. He had pointedly refused to allow himself the indulgence necessary to freely watch the woman act in front of an audience, encapsulating a character through mood and movement when he had grown so accustomed to admiring her individualism.

Rather than tell her so, he’d only insinuated that he was too occupied to attend these performances, despite her frequent invitations. Selfishly, he used to prefer her subdued look of disappointment than run the risk of her noticing the way he fell for her. Without meaning to. In fact, while actively trying not to.

Her raw pain was clear as she depicted Odette grieving the prince’s betrayal, having fallen for Odile’s impersonation of her. It wasn’t unlike her face moments before she stepped in the carriage in order to fulfill this very performance, or even her expression in the studio, or in front of the museum the night before. She channeled her hurt into her work—just as he did. She evolved with each step, every twist, in spite of him. Because of everything he put her through.

The bouquet in his tightening grip crinkled, the decorative paper around it crumbling from the frustration he let out on it. Ciel could hardly hear it over the orchestra in the pit, the assortment of musicians and their quality instruments masterfully recreating Tchaikovsky. But that wasn’t the most impressive aspect of the show— that recognition belonged to Y/n entirely.

He had to correct this gnawing worry in his stomach. The feeling that he was, once again, on the brink of being too late.

The moment the curtain drew after the company’s final bows, Ciel sprang from his seat.

He wouldn’t be too late. At the very least, he owed Y/n that.

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reynasdream · 11 months

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OOO BRO I just saw your lil post about writing for reverse 1999 and lemme tell you how FAST I dashed over here like I could be in the Olympics LMFAO

ANYWAYY BOOKIE I was LOWKEY WONDERING if you would be comfortable enough to doing Tennant and Dikke (separate!) x Ace detective! (Fem or Gn) Reader?

LIKE.. IDK imagine reader like Goro Akechi from persona 5😭 BUT OF COURSE that’s only if you’re comfortable and confident w it!🫧

HAVE A AMAZINGGG DAY THO!!

HELLO MISS!

⤷ pairings: dikke x reader, tennant x reader

⤷ content: all pairings are separate, reader is gender-neutral with no specified pronouns, mentions of homocide, very slight suggestiveness in dikke's part, not proofread

DIKKE

⤷ she had heard of you before from the townsfolk. to be completely honest, she had never really thought much about you other than that you were a smart and incredible, yet expensive detective.

⤷ you had helped solved several cases in the past despite your young age. you had started ever since you were a child, however, your work was more..."unofficial".

⤷ you were more recognized by her when you had gathered evidence to solve a major unsolved homicide case. she became more interested in you, and when she had the time, she sought out for you.

⤷ she didn't want to hire you, however. she simply wished to know you and your work better.

⤷ she asked to meet you at a small cafe, one where you two wouldn't easily be noticed by the townspeople.

⤷ after speaking with each other for a while, you two decided to have these meet-ups at least once every two weeks. the meetings became more often, but of course, you couldn't meet all the time because of both of your duties.

⤷ still, she enjoyed your company and knowing more about your career and cases in the past.

⤷ it didn't take long for her to realize she was in love with you.

⤷ one random day she decided to just confess to you. she invited you to the same cafe, but she tried to make it more special by giving you a gift and a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

⤷ she tried hinting that she liked you, and you did catch on, but you didn't say anything, thinking you were wrong.

⤷ that's when she just confessed to you. her face was tomato red when she confessed, and she attempted to hide her face with her hands.

⤷ if you accepted her confession, she'll take you outside and kiss you behind the building...maybe it'll lead to something more?

⤷ if you rejected her confession, she'll be okay with it, but she'll still want to be friends with you. she just won't be able to hang out with you so much, because now she's moving on and hanging out with you will only make her feelings toward you intense.

TENNANT

⤷ she knows you are not an easy one to fool with her..."charms".

⤷ she essentially spies on you, observing your personality and actions to determine who you are.

⤷ assuming you're wealthy, she'll most likely try to cheat you out of your wealth.

⤷ when her charms prove as useless, she may resort to her arcanum skills to manipulate you.

⤷ if they don't work on you somehow, then she'll be less ticked off and more intrigued by you, similar to dikke except with more malicious intentions.

⤷ she will befriend you, and work her way up to a higher status as your friend in order to manipulate you.

⤷ that's when she realizes that she has fallen in love with you, and she'll try to win you, this time with less...deceiving intentions.

⤷ she will try to win your heart, and although it definitely doesn't seem like it, she's rather desperate.

⤷ i mean, you're gorgeous, smart, and rich. it's not a surprise that she wants to be with you.

⤷ one day, she decides it's time for her to confess her feelings. her real feelings.

⤷ she invites you to a fancy restaurant, even offering to pay for everything. she gives you a couple luxurious gifts and treats you even more well than usual.

⤷ when she does confess, she is very much different from dikke. she speaks with full confidence, not bothering to hide her flushed face as she tells you her feelings.

⤷ if you do accept her confession, she would be delighted. she'll often take you out on fancy dates to restaurants, museums, operas, or other places considered as "sophisticated".

⤷ if you don't accept her confession, she'll understand, but that doesn't mean she won't be upset. she'll try to move on but she definitely won't forget you and your cute little face.

#reverse 1999 #reverse 1999 x reader #dikke x reader #tennant x reader #dikke #tennant #dikke reverse 1999 #reverse 1999 dikke #reverse 1999 tennant #tennant reverse 1999 #reynasdream -`♡´-

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mariacallous · 2 years

Text

For years, I sat down to work each morning, realizing hours later that I felt drained, but got little done. Instead of writing, I spent my time texting, emailing, and mostly aimlessly browsing through news sites, blogs, and social networks. Every click triggered another. I tried to regain control by using an app called Freedom that blocked my computer online access for fixed periods of time. Sometimes it helped, especially when I had a work deadline looming. Sometimes it didn’t. But trying to control work time was only part of the struggle. I kept feeling the irresistible urge to pull out my phone wherever I went. At that point, I blamed myself. After all, I was the girl who spent hours playing video games well into college. But something happened in 2015 that made me realize that something much bigger was awry.

It was a Saturday evening when I arrived with my family to a friends’ home for dinner. Their 11-year-old son was playing with his parents’ iPad. When we came in, his parents demanded that he hand it over and join the other kids. The boy at first refused to hand it over. He then tried angrily to snatch it back from his mother, regressing to toddler-style wailing to demand the device. Throughout a long evening he exercised every manipulation tool in his power to regain control of the iPad. As I observed his parents’ despair, I recalled a family conflict that transpired at my parents’ house some years earlier. At that time doctors diagnosed my father, a heavy smoker, with emphysema. My father could have avoided his painful ﬁnal years, hooked to an oxygen tank, by quitting smoking when he was diagnosed. He refused. We desperately tried to resist his decision by taking his cigarettes away. But like my friends’ son, my father reacted with uncharacteristic anger, exercising every means at his disposal to get his cigarette pack back.

That day I began to see how our present relates to our past. The past can answer one of today’s most perplexing problems. Why, despite multiple reports from Silicon Valley whistleblowers revealing that technology companies are using manipulative designs to prolong our time online, do we feel personally responsible? Why do we still blame ourselves and keep seeking new self-help methods to decrease our time online? We can learn from the past because in this case the tech companies did not innovate. Instead, the technology industry manipulated us following an old playbook, put together by other powerful industries, including the tobacco and food industries.

When the tobacco and food industries confronted allegations that their products harmed their consumers, they defended themselves by raising the powerful American social icon of self-choice and personal responsibility. This meant emphasizing that consumers are free to make choices and, as a result, are responsible for the outcomes. Smokers and their families sued the tobacco industry for the devastation of smoking, including lung cancer and early death. But, for decades, they failed to win their lawsuits because the tobacco industry argued successfully that they chose to smoke and, therefore, they are responsible for the results. The food industry employed an identical strategy. When a group of teenagers sued McDonald’s because they suffered from obesity and diabetes after eating regularly at McDonald’s, McDonald’s also successfully raised the same claim. It argued that no one forced the teenagers to eat at McDonald’s, and since it was their choice, McDonald’s is not responsible for any health ramifications. The food industry went further. They successfully lobbied for laws known as the “cheeseburger laws” or more formally as the Commonsense Consumption Acts. Under these laws, food manufacturers and vendors cannot be held legally responsible for their consumers’ obesity. Why? Because the laws proclaim that this will foster a culture of consumer personal responsibility, which is important for promoting a healthy society.

The tobacco and food companies did not stop at just arguing directly that their consumers are responsible. They also provided new products to help them make better choices. In the 1950s, researchers published the first studies showing the connection between smoking and lung cancer. In response, the tobacco companies offered consumers the option to choose a new healthier product: the filtered cigarette. They advertised it as “just what the doctor ordered,” claiming it removed nicotine and tar. Smokers went for it. Yet, they did not know that to compensate for the taste robbed by the filtered cigarette, companies used stronger tobacco that yielded as much nicotine and tar as the unfiltered brands. Here as well, the food industry followed suit. It also offered tools to reinforce that its consumers are in control. Facing criticism of the low nutritional value of their products, food manufacturers added products called “Eating Right” and “Healthy Choice.” While giving consumers the illusion they were making better choices, the diet product lines often made little improvement over the original products.

The tech industry is already applying this strategy by appealing to our deeply ingrained cultural beliefs of personal choice and responsibility. Tech companies do this directly when faced with allegations that they are addicting users. When the US Federal Trade Commission evaluated restricting use of loot boxes, an addictive feature common in video games, video game manufacturers argued: “No one is forced to spend money on a video game that is free to play. They choose what they want to spend and when they want to spend it and how they want to spend it.” But the technology industry also does it indirectly by providing us with tools to enhance our illusion of control. They give us tools like Apple’s Screen Time, which notifies us how much time we spend on screens. They also allow us to restrict time on certain apps, but then we can override these restrictions. We can choose to set our phones on “do not disturb” or “focus times.” We can set Instagram to remind us to take breaks. Yet, screen time continues to creep up. These tools are not successful, because just like the “filtered cigarette” and the “healthy choice” food products, they are not meant to solve the problem. Tech companies did not eliminate the addictive designs that keep prolonging our time online. The goal of these products, also known as digital well-being tools, was to keep the blame ball in our court, as we unsuccessfully face devices and apps that manipulatively entice us to stay on.

Awareness is crucial to stop blaming ourselves, but learning how the battles of the past played out also provides a rich repository for future action. Importantly, it exposes the vulnerabilities of the technology industry’s self-choice and responsibility argument. How? For one, when evidence comes out that businesses intended to addict consumers, it often defeats the industry’s argument that consumers voluntarily chose the products and are responsible for the consequences. In the 1990s, information leaking out of the tobacco companies’ fortress revealed that the tobacco industry knew that nicotine was addictive and manipulated it to maximize consumption by smokers. It was then that courts began attributing more responsibility to the tobacco industry, and smokers finally started winning cases. This is directly relevant today as whistleblowers report that tech companies purposefully addicted their users to prolong their time online, while choosing to ignore the harms. Second, children are the Achilles’ heel of the personal choice and responsibility defense. While many object to making paternalistic choices for adults, choosing for children is acceptable. For example, kids are not allowed to purchase cigarettes. Legal action is already underway to protect kids from the harms of excessive screen time.

Parents are suing social media companies and gamemakers for addicting their kids and causing them mental harm. They are no longer alone. Recently, school systems sued for the costs of treating kids harmed by social networks. Representatives of the US Congress and state legislatures relentlessly propose bills to protect children. Proposals raise different solutions from imposing liability on social networks should they fail to remove addictive features to prohibiting access to social media for kids. The past illustrates that the weakness of the personal choice and responsibility defense with regard to kids makes this path particularly likely to succeed.

We can also push against the technology industry’s business model. Under this model, we get products like Gmail and Instagram for free. Still we pay, though not in money. We pay with our time and data. In recent years, government agencies filed antitrust actions against Big Tech. If successful, these actions could destabilize the prevailing business model. For example, should an action against Meta, which currently holds Facebook, Instagram, and WhatsApp, succeed, and break it up, it will likely encourage competition. Competition could push toward alternative business models, such as subscriptions or pay-as-you-go. When a company’s business model does not rely on our time as its main resource, its need to design products that maximize our time online diminishes.

While a movement to battle technology is underway, it cannot rely on lawyers alone. Parents can influence schools to better assess and limit incorporation of technology into the classroom. Business owners can impact use of screens on their premises. For example, restaurant owners can decide not to replace menus with QR codes, thereby reducing the likelihood that patrons will take their phone out during the meal. Online entrepreneurs can opt for an alternative business model, one that is not based on advertising and user time. Technology designers can evaluate whether to design a feature aimed primarily at keeping users online for longer. We have many options to make a collective impact. Changing norms and business operations is possible. Looking at the past illustrates the possibilities of the future. We could never imagine bars without cigarettes, but they became our reality. So can a better-balanced tech future.

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