#this is how you feel when you thought they hired you as a journalist when what they wanted was a social media manager

[easeupkid]

had a random data viz project thrown my way at work because i mentioned i have experience with data journalism etc and i forgot how i can like enjoy work when work is interesting and something i have like skills for and interest in doing and not something that they never even told me would be my whole entire job in the interview

[sukunasweetheart]

the whole court and justice system stuff going on right now in jjk is giving me ideas for modern au where criminal!sukuna put on trial for some heinous deeds he's done... but upon a fated happenstance he gets to hire the most perfect and competent defence lawyer who manages to somehow get him out of the situation as a free and innocent man. and being the charismatic and so very thoughtful man that he is, he decides he wants to do something for you in return...

warnings; female reader, smut, oral fem!receiving, mentions of murder and killing, dubcon-ish, morally corrupted reader, mildly submissive sukuna, male masturbation, cum in panties

words: 2.3k

criminal!sukuna, who's showing you gratitude in the only way he knows how... somewhere in a secluded room with the door locked behind. he sinks to his knees and hikes up your skirt, slides your panties down...

criminal!sukuna, who's kneeling down while your back is against the wall, one of your legs propped up on his shoulder as he eats you out so good that you're shuddering and twitching with every flicker of his tongue against your clit...

criminal!sukuna, who is getting drunk on the taste of you on his tongue, disregarding the fact that his face is beginning to sweat from the heat between your legs, and his cock is so hard that it hurts right now.

criminal!sukuna, who pulls out orgasm after orgasm out of you, not minding your slick that dribbles down his chin from doing so.

(how far will you let him take this?)

sukuna hadn't really cared much, whether he were to be ruled as innocent or be judged as guilty and sent to prison. he really was just planning on going with the flow, whichever direction life threw him in-- he's not one to cry and throw a tantrum over spoiled milk... if he gets locked up, so be it, he'd either find a way to cunningly get back out or he'd probably rise to the top amongst the inmates inside.

so even when he was introduced to you, a famously proficient defence lawyer and the top in your field, he wasn't expecting much from you at all.

but upon his first meeting with you, you managed to pique his interest when you confessed that you didn't give a fuck whether he's actually a criminal or not. as long as he's paying good money, you're going to get him out with 100% innocence. and to do that, you'll need a bit of his cooperation and honesty. whatever information you ask for, he needs to provide. so you can either slip it under the rug, or use it to your advantage in court.

he already thinks you're pretty fuckin' sexy. your formal and classy lawyer fit, tight ass pencil skirt... he'd like to get under it. your snobby and overly professional attitude. hah. he'd like to rip that away from you and see what's underneath all of it.

but for now, he does as you advise of him.

there were many instances where masses of journalists with their obnoxious mics and flashing cameras surrounded sukuna while he was getting moved from place to place with cuffs on his hands. he remained expressionless, all while thinking of how nice it would feel to paint the concrete floors with the blood of all these people. he'd even spare one of them, so they could publish whatever rubbish story they wanted. let the whole world know what he is.

and amongst all those who were against him, there really was only you. he's not quite used to this feeling, of having someone at his defence. he's never really needed it until he eventually slipped up and a detective caught onto his trail. he spent a considerable amount of time with you one-on-one.

while he was detained for a time before the trial began, there were times you visited him because you needed some confirmation on some of the information you had, but you also wanted to give him some advice on how he should answer questions when he was being interrogated.

"well, aren't i lucky to have a visitor with such a pretty face? nothing but unsightly insects and the stench of men in this filthy place," sukuna crooned with mischief in his tone, sitting himself down in front of you as a thin transparent wall separated the two of you.

"endure it. you won't be here for long after all."

god, he'd never seen someone with more confidence than himself in a long while. he wondered how you'd look if you did end up losing the trial. what a humiliation that would be. but something inside him said that you were going to prevail. his gut feelings are usually never wrong.

he's still quite nonchalant about it all, but oh boy, when he's sat next to you in court and watches you defend him against the prosecutor in front of a crowd for the first time... it does something to him. your voice, confident and clearly audible, how you articulate your words... all for his sake? (not really. but you get what i mean.)

"i know being cocky is your whole theme... but it'd be helpful if you could refrain from smirking or looking unapologetic during the trial. to get the jury on our side." you'd told him.

and he's trying, he really is (kind of...), but the corners of his mouth keep rising every time you debunk a piece of evidence presented by the prosecutor with ease. their expressions are really amusing. it's obvious how frustrated they are getting.

then he also thinks about what you'd said to him after that.

"ah, but perhaps... the media will favour you a bit better. they're always biased towards handsome faces. and don't underestimate the public's influence on court rulings."

you'd called him handsome, in such a matter of fact way. not that it was a rare occurrence- but something about you openly admitting it with your rigid personality had him going in a way no one else could.

in a matter of weeks, the tables had turned completely, and the court ruled him as an innocent man.

triumphant, you gathered your documents neatly put them in one pile. he's declared free to go, and while the place slowly empties of people, you meet sukuna in a now empty hall.

"so, you've set me free. knowing that i really was the one who did it," he voices dangerously, with a smirk. "i'd have to say, it's foolish thing to do. what if i made you my next victim? criminals know no courtesy, after all."

"you paid me a hefty sum. i don't do this for courtesy, you should know this by now. if i die by the hands of someone i defended, then so be it. i'll gladly bear the consequences of my own actions."

part of him wants to test your words. but it'd be such a waste to have you dead. right now, he's aching for something else.

"bold statement. you're not even a bit afraid? my cuffs have been off for a while now." you don't flinch even as he reaches out and palms your cheek. his hand is warm.

"not at all. you've been the most unreadable criminal i've defended, but after speaking to you for a while, i believe i've gotten better at interpreting your expressions."

"you've been reading me like a book, hey? well, enlighten me. i'm interested in hearing your thoughts."

"i may know what you want, but i don't plan on giving it to you. that's one line i don't cross with my clients."

"...oh yeah? well, good thing i'll be the one giving instead. how about we find an empty room first?"

"i don't need-"

"or should we do it here? do you like being an exhibitionist?"

you purse your lips together and give him a stern look, arms crossed.

"c'mon sweetheart. keep staring at me like that, and i'll get hard."

"enough. i have another client waiting."

"i'm sure you do. so i'll make it quick. you deserve a little something after all that hard work."

in the end, he successfully drags you off to a secluded room, somewhere in the building.

which finally brings you to present time...

sukuna's knees are probably going to be bruised later on. but at the moment, he doesn't feel a thing. all he can feel is arousal when he hears your whines and moans that seem so unlike you. gripping at his head, full body twitching as he sucks around your puffy and swollen clit, every huffing breath he takes in having the scent of you drenched in it.

you reach your third orgasm while standing in his manner, and he groans deeply as he feels it, your cunt pulsing against his lips.

you're clasping a hand over your mouth, but your muffled noises are still audible. deep down, you're starting to admit that perhaps you needed this, after all. sukuna was undeniably attractive, and you'd been constantly reminding yourself that he was but a murderer with blood on his hands... all for your efforts to come crashing down now.

it feels too good. he's getting you hot and bothered in a way no one else does. his hands palm and grope your asscheeks, touching whatever he can. whatever you'll let him.

once your clit begins to get too sensitive that it hurts, you have to push him away. and when he comes out from under your skirt, you take quite the liking to the state of his disheveled hair, flushed cheeks, your slick shining on his chin, and his glassy eyes. your leg comes off his shoulder, and the two of you are panting for a full minute before saying anything.

"fuck... i'll be honest, it was better than i thought it would be," you tell him, chest still rising up and down from the sexual high.

"bet it was. it's the least i could do after you were so good to me..." sukuna responds teasingly with a hoarse voice, looking up at you with his knees still against the floor, grinning.

you stare back, until your eyes wander down to the outline of his dick in his pants, clearly strained by the fabric.

"and what about you?" you ask with plenty a playfulness in your tone, smiling so gracefully. his cock visibly throbs when you mention it. you nudge it, gently dragging the tip of your toe up it's shape, still wearing your heels. sukuna doesn't hate it. in fact, he has to swallow up a moan coming from the back of his throat.

"feeling gracious enough to help relieve me?" he says with a cloudy haze in his eyes, grabbing your ankle with one of his calloused hands.

"hmm...not really. but i'm willing to watch you do it yourself."

"how perverted. to think you were so opposed to this, minutes before-"

you press down harder against his erection using the sole of your heel, and he groans, unable to stop himself this time.

"is that a no?"

"...if you'll let me finish in your panties, i will," he relents.

you give it some thought. and then you agree to it.

sukuna stands, and he stands close, towering over you with his height. he wastes no time in unbuckling himself.

revealing his thick cock, you marvel at its size and the way its drooling precum, veins running along its side and twitching against his palm. he begins to stroke himself. other hand against the wall behind you, he starts jacking off like he would if no one were around. like you're not there right in front of him.

you watch with a small smile, staring at his hand that goes up and down his erection at a fast pace. staring down at his leaking tip. listening to his small grunts and the wet sound of him fucking his fist.

then your gaze begins to wander. your eyes trail up and up, reaching his face, where you realise that he's looking directly at you. lust in his irises. your reflection shining in both those pupils of his.

sukuna hasn't touched himself in a while. he's never really needed to. but with a few words from you, he willingly obliged. now when you meet his eyes like that, he can't resist leaning down for a messy kiss with you, all while mumbling "mm..fuck-" against your lips.

he angles his hips closer to your pussy, making it so that every stroke makes his tip catch onto your clitoris. his hand speeds up. you hitch in a breath at the tension, at how close he is, as he's basically leaning into you now.

"i'm close... open up," he mutters into your ear, breaking the kiss.

your panties are hanging between your thighs, and you slip them up a little more up for him. his breathing starts to get faster.

"shit... 'm cumming-"

he aims it to the fabric of your underwear, and releases. sukuna groans deeply, twisting his hand towards the head of his bulbous tip as he spurts rope after rope of his seed on, hips jerking and dick throbbing with every hot string that comes out.

your hole clenches around nothing at the sight. there's so much. you're slightly starting to regret agreeing to this. it might seep out if he continues letting out this much.

thankfully, he comes to a stop soon. he squeezes himself for one last drop, and then his cock starts softening in his hand.

"all done?" you ask.

"every last drop." he watches you with a smirk as you pull it up. the warmth of it hits your cunt and you hide the way it feels arousing. he also tucks himself back in.

"now i'm running late," you say with a frown, taking a quick look at your wristwatch.

"so you actually had someone waiting?" he questions, raising an eyebrow.

"of course. why would i lie about that?"

the thought of you seeing another client with his sticky mess between your legs makes him a little hard again. you start heading off to the door, but he blocks your way.

"we'll be seeing each other again, won't we?"

"i don't know. will we?"

"of course we will," he offers slyly. "i'll have you choking on my dick, next time."

he's very adamant about it, and it doesn't seem like he'll let you through unless you give some sort of agreement to him.

"we'll see about that," you tell him. and then you follow it up with a small kiss to his cheek, which stuns him slightly. you make your way out the door and he stands as he listens to your footsteps that get further and further away.

...he knew that jerking off once would be far from enough for him. he regrets not asking for your panties instead.

Masterlist

[vaaaaaiolet]

A broken backspace key, two rival magazines, and love letters sent through email. It’s the 2000's and Raccoon Mag’s prize photojournalist lands himself a secret admirer. 

You. 

gn / m, fluff, romance via email love letters, how to lose a guy in 10 days-esque, just a cutesy romcom, reader works a stereotypically female job but no pronouns mentioned!

word count: 2.4k // read on ao3

a/n: title inspired by the alicia keys song ofc. thank you to the lovely @kennedysbaby for the prompt inspo and endless support while writing this! this isn't my usual writing style so i'm kinda nervous AHGH but i thought it was cute LMAO. i <3 u!!

From: howtodept@starsweek.com To: lskennedy@raccoonmag.com 

Subject: You Don’t Know My Name

Dear Mr. Kennedy,

I hope this email never finds you well. 

No, no, that came out wrong, I swear! Gosh, I’m not sure how to work the backspace on these new computers. What I mean to say is that I hope this email never finds you.

I’m the new hire for the How To column at STARS Week magazine. They haven’t quite set up an email address with my name yet: I’m using the one readers mail their questions to. It’s a bit of a blessing to not have my name attached to this mortifying message now that I think about it. 

You must be wondering, why does an Agony Aunt columnist from your media rival have your email in the first place? You, the top photojournalist at Raccoon Mag, the highlight of all newsstands. You must think I’m crazy. 

But the thing is that I think you’re simply wonderful.

You visited our office last week. Surely you remember walking into the great big glass doors of the STARS building. Aren’t they glamorous? They make me feel like a hotshot movie journalist when really I just write back to teenage girls and help them pick out the right nail color, or tell middle-aged moms how to dress less like they rolled out of an outdated Sears catalog. I’m eternally grateful to get to work here – Ms. Hunnigan really did a favor taking me on – but I can’t help feeling like a bird with its wings clipped, stuck in a glass cage. I could be doing so much more with my talents. And don’t tell me that I already am; I know my advice articles don’t work because my own mom still wears stripes with polka dots.

Yeesh.

So when you came by last week with your great big camera filled with pictures of all your travels around the world, you caught my eye right away. 

You weren’t wearing a suit like all the other big shots in the STARS office. Mr. Kennedy, you came to what Ms. Hunnigan would consider “the biggest business risk of your life” dressed in a polo and slacks, still looking sharper than our Man of the Month, with not a word extra to say because your photos spoke for themselves.

Mr. Kennedy, I was working my measly little column when I overheard Ms. Hunnigan’s surprise at your refusal to take a dime for the photojournalism you brought to our office. Your manila folder was filled with pictures from a recently hurricane-hit island, one I’m embarrassed to say I only learned of from your spirited tirade. You didn’t care that Raccoon Mag and STARS Week were sworn enemies. All you cared about was combining readers’ donations for disaster relief. I thought it was mighty noble of you.

You didn’t flinch once at Ms. Hunnigan’s unforgiving stare and I know how hard that can be because I got the same one when I asked to switch to a journalism department instead. Ms. Hunnigan isn’t too keen on putting effort where there isn’t turnover. But you came anyway, and you left victorious simply because you wanted to help people that badly.

I think you can assume why I scrapped my article this week about getting over crushes. There’s going to be a horribly empty space in my column if I don’t figure out how to type something other than your name soon. Hence this email. 

(You left your business card on Ms. Hunnigan’s desk, if you’re still wondering how I’m sending this to the right email address. I’m not too shabby at snooping around, in a journalism kind of way, of course.)

I don’t think this counts as getting over a crush. I don’t suppose you have any ideas?

Yours sincerely, You Don’t Know My Name

> Saved as Draft (7/7/2003)

> Continue Saved Draft? YES

From: howtodept@starsweek.com To: lskennedy@raccoonmag.com

Dear Mr. Kennedy,

Did you see the smiles of the children who got their school rebuilt thanks to your disaster relief proposal? I’m sure you did: their pictures, along with all the other photos from the donation effort, got printed front and center on this week’s issue! I nearly sold out the newsstand from all the Raccoon Mag copies I bought the morning they came off the press. Had to hide them from Ms. Hunnigan too; she wasn’t too happy about my less-than-juicy column last week. 

But that’s not for you to worry about, Mr. Kennedy. I’ll figure something else out. Like what color fabric makes your eyes pop, subtle ways to tell a coworker you’re interested in more than just drinks after work, what to eat to look and feel your best in less than two weeks.

On a completely unrelated note, I can’t help but look forward to when you come back to STARS Week in less than a month (according to Ms. Hunnigan’s desk calendar).

You’ve inspired me to get back into journalism; put my degree to use. I didn’t graduate top of my class just to tell people what hairstyle goes with what neckline! I’m clumsy with cameras and not too nifty with technology (I still can’t figure out where that backspace key is!) but I’m a sure hand with a pen. I go to the library after work now and spend hours researching global issues to write about when I get home. My collection of research articles is coming right along. Kind of like your manila folder. I flatter myself.

I wonder what you write, what you read. What makes Leon Kennedy laugh? What does he read before bed, what makes him think? I wonder if we laugh at the same bad jokes. 

Email is a strange mode of communication. There’s an awful lot of dishonesty involved. You get to pick and choose what you leave out. I suppose I don’t get that luxury with my lack of backspace, but it’s the same in conversation when you don’t get to backtrack on what comes out of your mouth. Would it be silly of me to dream that I’m having a conversation with you like this? Through my keyboard?

I’d much rather hear you in conversation, I have to admit. You’ve got a lovely voice. The rest of us are just lucky you decided to use it for good and speak out about the problems of the world despite what may or may not sell (sorry, Ms. Hunnigan). I might even be lucky enough to hear my name fall from your lips one day. Are…oh gosh, this is making me shy. Damn you, backspace key. But I wonder what it feels like to kiss you, Mr. Kennedy. 

I hear tying cherry stems with your tongue makes you a good kisser. I’ll be sure to learn. Maybe if we ever hit the town and we get drinks, I could show you? I’m not even sure what kind of drinks have cherries on top. That’s more a milkshake or ice cream thing. I’d be delighted to get either with you; I even know a trick to cure brain freeze in a second! I hope that’s incentive enough. I’m quite partial to cookie dough if you’d like to share. Not so much if you’re a fan of rum raisin.

And then over ice cream, we could talk about everything under the sun. Your pictures, my writing, bad jokes, good jokes, your favorite rom-coms, important questions like that.

(I’m kidding, promise. The rom-com one is important though. I hope you understand.)

There so much I’d love to talk to you about. But for now, I’m content with sitting in my cubicle in the corner, hiding behind my potted plant and hoping for a glimpse of your golden hair through Ms. Hunnigan’s office doors when you come by. But as all good things must come to an end, here comes the end of this email to my Raccoon Mag Romeo. 

Looking forward to your nonexistent response, You Don’t Know My Name

> Saved as Draft (8/12/2003)

> Continue Saved Draft? YES

From: howtodept@starsweek.com To: lskennedy@raccoonmag.com

Dear Mr. Kennedy,

You used to be in the police academy before you worked for Raccoon Mag? 

Gosh, I hope my snooping doesn’t come off untoward, truly, I don’t mean to – it’s just that you’ve been coming to STARS Week so frequently this month and you didn’t visit in the last few days and…well, I missed seeing you. So it seems I’m remedying that with novice-level stalker work. Er, journalism. 

I’m marvelously impressed by you is all. Your sense of justice runs deeper than I thought. I wonder what made you choose this line of work instead of the force? 

For what it’s worth, digging up your past work introduced me to several fascinating topics. If Ms. Hunnigan lets up on her workload, she might even have time to look at the piece I’ve been drafting all month! You’ve inspired me in more ways than one, Mr. Kennedy, so you understand why I’m eager to see you again in the hope of showing you what I’ve written. I could slip my article into your folder, leave it in an envelope next to the cup of coffee you always let cool on the receptionist’s desk before going into the copy room…

But there might not be a point avoiding you anymore. I’m afraid you’ll run into me sooner than later with the number of errands Ms. Hunnigan sends me on around the office.

Worse yet, I think someone’s caught on to me. 

Claire from Sports is starting to ask about all these emails I type up while my How To assignment of the week sits by its lonesome next to my potted plant. I wish these keyboards weren’t so loud and cranky! They rattle up a storm when I type these emails to you, but turn quiet as mice when it comes time for me to work on my dreadful How Tos. Snitches get stitches, don’t you know?

But I’d never snitch on you, Mr. Kennedy. A tiny part of me hopes you’ve caught on to who hides an extra donut in the fridge for you from our office breakfasts. Rest assured that I can do much better than slightly stale office donuts, though. 

So if that ice cream date doesn’t work out, we could head downtown to Marvin’s on a Thursday for the best chocolate donuts I swear you’ve ever tasted. Thursday is when they bake them up fresh and I know a table by the street where the sunset looks the prettiest. A treat for you and a treat for your camera, how’s that? 

You don’t even know what you’re doing to me. I feel all crazy inside, giddy and smiling over my research like unpaid overtime I’m all too happy to take on. I really hope to show you my article soon. There’s nothing more romantic to a journalist than setting your facts straight next to somebody who smiles like the sun, like you, Mr. Kennedy. I might even dream of my article being printed next to your pictures one day.

But as short as today’s email to you might be, I hope our time together isn’t. The security team is redoing the How To department’s computers after Ms. Hunnigan’s keyboard started acting up – something about manufacturing issues. Remember that pesky backspace key of mine? They’re fixing it later today! 

Actually, they’re fixing it right now. The team’s coming over to my desk, so I’m going to have to enDKJJL

> Send Email? SFHALFNO

> Input detected. Email sending… NJOS NON DON”T SEND 

> Email sent successfully! (9/16/2003)

From: lskennedy@raccoonmag.com To: howtodept@starsweek.org

Subject: RE: You Don’t Know My Name

I’m submitting an answer for July’s How To: how do I get over a crush?

If I’m being honest, I’ve written and rewritten this email a fair number of times. I’m not good with my words. That’s why I take pictures: they say everything I leave unspoken. But it’s also why I’ve grown so fond of a certain How To columnist because they’re not afraid to put their feelings to pen, rather, keyboard. 

It’s just a shame that their name isn’t on any of the sweet emails they sent me. And it’s not like I can just go up to my boss and ask. If I’m their Raccoon Mag Romeo (see what I mean when I say they’ve got a way with words?), they’re the Capulet I’m after. 

So I took a page out of my admirer’s book and went snooping. It’s what a journalist does best, right? 

Marvin’s an old friend of mine. I went to his shop last Thursday to find out who comes for donuts and stays for the sunset. His donuts taste better than the office ones for sure, but there’s something a little sweeter about the thought behind the latter. FYI: my lips are sealed.

All this donut and ice cream business makes me think my admirer’s got a sweet tooth. I’m willing to share any ice cream that isn’t rum raisin either. Cookie dough is a close second to my personal favorite – mint chocolate chip – but that brain freeze trick is enough to convince me to have both. What do you say we try out all the flavors? You might even come across a scoop to write about, you never know. (RE: your question about bad jokes, how was that?)

And last but not least, Claire from STARS Week Sports isn’t too tight-lipped. She was perfectly charming when I asked about any deskmates with clunky keyboards who’ve been quite busy recently, so it really wasn’t that hard to find out who this kind, endearing, and incredibly talented admirer of mine is. 

You needn’t sneak your article into my folder because I found a copy of it on your desk with my name written on the bottom. You say you’ve only been working on this since I came for the disaster relief deal? That’s only two months!

Color me impressed. Ms. Hunnigan would be a fool to miss out on the untapped talent sitting in her How To department, so I think it would be a great idea to bring your article to her together. I’d be honored to straighten out any facts with you, though I doubt there’s much I can add to what you’ve compiled. My camera is at your disposal.

Let’s talk details over those donuts, then? It’s Thursday. I’ll wait by the bench outside the STARS building. I have a feeling it’ll be a nice change from sending emails. 

Yours sincerely (and I do know your name), Leon

(P.S. Personally, I hope this isn’t a crush you need to get over.)

(9/18/2003)

psst, find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!

[despacito-uwu16]

The Rising Action

Kenji Sato x Journalist! Reader

Enemies To Lovers | Foced Proximity | Pining

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“Hit me like a poisonous dart. You were trouble right from the start. Should’ve ran I guess that’s my fault”. - I do by G-IDLE

⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺

“Ken Sato has received a 3rd strike. One wonders, how hard is it to hit a small ball, I bet a one-eyed zombie could hit a ball better than he can”. You say into your recorder.

“Wow, you are harsh”. Ami says as you end your recording.

“It’s called being honest. I report what I see”. You reminded her. “I mean have you seen the way he played today”?

“Yes Y/N, we’ve been watching the same game. But it got me thinking. When I interviewed Ken, he refused to talk about his family. He refuses to show vulnerability. It’s like he’s wearing some sort of mask. Something is going on with him, and when I know something, I don’t let go”. Said Ami.

“Wow, you are very determined”.

“At least get to know him before you start roasting him”. Ami suggested.

“Note taken”. You lied.

After graduating college, you were hired as an intern at the Los Angeles Magazine. You would stay at the office after midnight to revise and edit articles for other reporters. Eventually, your boss gave you your first assignment. Coincidentally, at a baseball game. You took in every detail of every player, noting all of the small mistakes and flaws of the games. Everyone looked like they didn’t know how to play, much to your disappointment. But it made juicy material for you.

That night, you were writing like you were running out of time. The article you wrote was on some of the players and their failures. The morning after, you got called in to the editor’s office. At first you thought you were about to get fired, but your surprise, he complimented on your writing style, asking you to cover another baseball game. Eventually, you got promoted to journalist within 6 months of working there, naming you the youngest journalist in the field. A year and a half later, you were offered a job at the International Review Journal. They pay twice as much as the last salary and you get to travel for your job. It didn’t take too long for you to accept it, and the next thing you knew, you were on your way to make your mark in the world.

Everywhere you went, your words impacted people and the way they perceive their favorite athletes. All of the readers love you, while the athletes feared and hated you. You didn’t care for the love and hate. What matters is you were unstoppable.

Now here you are in Tokyo, Japan watching the Ken Sato struggle. You felt bad that the Giants were on a loosing streak, but you didn’t feel bad for Ken. It was his ego that brought him here after all. You leaned back in your chair with your recorder in your hand, while watching Ken having a temper tantrum in front of his coach.

~

As you walked out of the stadium, you were fishing out your car keys when you realized something was missing in your bag.

“Where’s my recorder”?

Panic starts to settle in as you looked through your tote bag.

“Looking for this”?

You turn around to see Ken Sato, waving your recording device in front of you.

“Well, if it isn’t the walking loosing streak. I would say great game, but let’s face it, i’ve seen better”. You sneered.

“Y/N L/N, the pain in my ass, Let me guess, obsessing with me as usual”? He asks

“I’m not obsessed with you, and even if I were, I would rather launch myself out of Tokyo on a ten foot pole than fan girl over a baseball fuck up”. You rolled your eyes.

“You have really creative comments Y/N. I think my favorite one has to be when you called me the hare who couldn’t beat the tortoise. But slower and more stupider”. He laughs.

“I also noticed that I’m the only person mentioned in your commentary. Am I just a cover for the fact that you know nothing about baseball”?

“Of course I know everything about baseball. I just like taking notes on the most notable failures in baseball history”. You scoffed

He lets out a laugh that still annoys you to this day. “It’s nice to know I have a fan”.

“Once again, the only person obsessed with you is you”. You retorted.

“Says the person who followed me all the way here from California”. He tossed your recorder to you. “I’ve read some of your stuff online. Judging by your writing style, you should consider a career in fanfiction writing instead of sports journalism”.

“Fuck off Ken”. You said.

While he turned around to walk away, you gave him the middle finger, and he stuck up his in return.

You rolled your eyes as you got into your car.

“What an asshole. And for the record, I was here first”. You aggressively push your car key into the ignition.

You were back in your apartment, editing your article on your gray velvet couch. You took a sip of your pineapple smoothie as you reread the last paragraph you’ve just written.

“Ken Sato, “the best living player”, is now the best living curse. From being on cloud 9 to falling into the pits of underworld, he might as well drag the giants along with him. Tread carefully Sato, consider yourself a dead man walking. If looks could kill, we wouldn’t be Coach Shimura”.

Is this considered slander? Possibly. But to you, it’s called journalism. And the best part of the job is the chaos it causes post-publish.

After rereading and editing, you hit publish. You sat back and watched as the likes and views came in.

Later that night, you were celebrating the success of your latest article, alone. You downed the last of your dirty shirley, feeling content with yourself and the hard work you’ve put in. You were about to ask for the bill, when the bartender placed a martini in front of you.

“I didn’t order this”. You look up at the bartender confused.

“It came from the gentleman in the black blazer”. He points to the man sitting at the end of the bar.

You look over with curiosity to see the man sitting at the end of the bar. Only to be disappointed when you realized the guy was Ken. He got up and walks up to you.

You glare at Ken as he approached you. “What do you want”?

“Can’t a man treat a cute girl to a drink”? He takes a seat next you.

You’ve been down this road before. After you publish an article, the athletes either bombards you with threatening emails or bribe you with money or expensive gifts. Either way, it didn’t faze you.

“If this is about the article, I’m not taking it down or tweaking it to your liking”.

“I usually don’t give a shit about what you personally think of me. However, my career is on the line because of you”. He said, his onyx eyes giving you the death stare.

“Awww, it’s not my fault the world thinks you suck. Go cry about it”. You roll your eyes.

“I’m not begging for you to delete the article. Instead, I’m offering you an opportunity”. Kenji proposes.

You turn your body towards him. “Go on”.

“You come live with me for the next two months, get the Kenji exclusive. You get to ask any question, and you get to follow me around. It’ll make great coverage for the sports magazine”. He leans back in his chair.

“Okay and why would I want to live with you”? You scoff.

Kenji smirks. “You can decline the once in a lifetime opportunity to do this interview, or I can tell everyone about our little escapade during college”.

You glared at him. “Excuse me”?

“Imagine if people found out that Ken Sato, a baseball legend and Y/N L/N, his biggest hater had a one night stand during our junior year. That would seriously affect your following and your career, wouldn’t it”? Kenji condescends, leaving you completely disgusted.

“You’re not the only one who can play dirty Y/N”. He smirks.

Of all the annoying things Kenji does, one thing you did not expect from him is to straight out blackmail you. Another is the fact that he’s right. If people found out you slept with an athlete, you can kiss your promotion goodbye. For once, you were backed into a corner, and there was nothing you could do or say to save yourself. Swallowing your pride, you decided to take the defeat.

“Fine. I’ll come shadow you”. You surrendered reluctantly.

Kenji smiles from ear to ear.

“But if you pull some shady shit on me, I’m ending it”. You threatened.

“Won’t be a problem”. Kenji pulls out a pen and writes something down on a napkin.

“Here’s the address to my house. Arrive at my place on Sunday at 9 am sharp”. He hands you the napkin and hands some cash to the bar tender.

“I look forward to this interview Y/N”. He winks at you as he leaves the bar. You sunk in your seat appalled.

“What the fuck did I just agree to”?

⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺

Likes, Comments and Reblogs are always appreciated :)

⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺

Tag list:

@imconfusedbutok @deadbydad-writes

@introvertthief @rdjsprincess

@boomboom-tanjiro2019 @moyadorogaya

@holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @lovingyeet

@ofichan @nina-from-317

@lunaryasha @kocho-catt

@scarasw1f3 @mochminnie

@ritzes28 @aise-30

@ghostatrixx @aphroditis-world

@levi-09 @marshhbs

⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺

[archangeldyke-all]

idk why i didn’t think of this sooner but bodyguard!Sevika 👀

her being overly protective, saying it’s bc of “her job” when it’s really bc she has a fat crush on her beautiful, celebrity client and doesn’t want anyone to lay a finger on her girl 😩

this is SO cute like SOOOO cute omg

men and minors dni

sevika's the best body guard you've had. and you've had plenty.

she isn't afraid to push people around when they're crowding you, and she isn't afraid to get in a fight or two.

she's always got a protective hand on the small of your back as she escorts you to and from appearances-- a comfort you've grown accustomed to.

in the mornings she picks you up from your home or whatever hotel room you're staying in, always prepared for you with a warm drink just the way you like it.

she's always got snacks tucked away in her pockets that she shoves into your hands when you've gone too long without eating, in between interviews and meetings.

she's not afraid to step in when journalists and interviewers get too comfortable or run on too long. inappropriate questions are often lobbed at you, about your personal life, your love life and your appearance, and each time sevika's there to witness them, she'll glare at the reporter until they take the question back or move on.

she's always ready for any problem you might face. raining? sevika's opening an umbrella over your head already. randomly got your period? she's subtly passing you a pad or tampon, then two painkillers and some water. tired? sevika's already wrapping her strong arm around you to let you sleep against her chest during the car rides to and from gigs.

she's been by your side as your personal guard for a year now, and you've never been happier. there's just one thing.

you've kinda got a crush on her.

how could you not? she's protective of you, kind to strangers, strong and beautiful and always touching you.

it's starting to drive you a bit crazy.

last week, she was hanging out in your house while you got ready for a red carpet, helping you lace up various dresses and clasp necklaces as you picked your outfit, looking handsome as hell in her all black suit.

there was a moment, as you were applying your makeup and she was fiddling with your television, where this wave of clarity washed over you. you watched in the mirror as behind you sevika huffed at the screen and mashed buttons on the remote, and you thought, 'oh. i think i want her here with me forever.'

three nights ago, she was dropping you off at home after you hosted the opening night of a new club, slightly sweaty, black buttonup shirt unbuttoned low enough you can see a little bit of her cleavage, hair slicked back, lips and eyes painted black, a smile on her lips and her hands on your hips to steady your drunken stumbling; and when you got to the door you could've fucking sworn she was about to kiss you goodnight. she was staring at your lips, licking her own, slowly leaning in, and you smiled. she froze, blinked, then pulled away.

"don't forget to lock your doors." she said. she's been saying it to you every night since she was hired. you rolled your eyes.

"text me when you're home safe, sev." you replied like you always do. she huffed as she began stumbling backwards so she could keep her eyes on you as she crossed your front yard.

"i'm a bodyguard for fuck's sake!" she said, exasperated.

she still texted you a 'home.' twenty minutes later.

you couldn't sleep that night, replaying the moment over and over again, butterflies in your stomach keeping you tossing and turning all night.

and then, the next time you saw her (last night) you decided to turn the charm on a bit, see if you were just delusional and drunkenly imagining things or if maybe the feelings you were having for sevika were... mutual.

you were at a gala, sevika sitting next to you in a tux as ballroom music played. you gulped down the last dregs of your drink and turned to her. "let's go outside." you whispered in her ear. she smiled, and followed you out to the empty smoking balcony.

sevika covered your exposed shoulders with her jacket before you could even shiver, then pulled a cigarette and lighter from her back pocket. you laughed, then pulled a joint from your cleavage, waggling your eyebrows at her. she chuckled.

you snatched the lighter from her hands and lit up as sevika tucked her cigarette away. you took a long puff and passed it over to her. she grinned, and took a drag.

when the joint was gone, you turned to her. "i've got kinda a stupid question but..."

"go ahead." she said with a chuckle.

"okay. but you have to be honest, promise?" you asked. she nodded. you took a deep breath, then whispered, "were you gonna kiss me the other night?"

sevika blinked. "i... don't know what you're talking about." she said.

you blinked, nodded, then went back inside.

neither of you talked the rest of the night.

and now things are weird.

you haven't heard from sevika. you haven't had anything scheduled, so there's no need for you to hear from sevika, but still. you can't remember the last time you'd gone more than 6 hours without a text or call. just to check in.

it's only now that you've gone so long without talking to her that you're starting to realize just how much she's become for you this past year. shit. you really need to give sevika a raise.

you've spent the day in bed, wallowing in self pity and heartbreak. your pajamas are wrinkled, your eyes are puffy from crying, and you're laying in a pile of crumbs from the cookies you've been munching on all day.

your doorbell rings. you freeze, mid munch on your cookie. there's only ten or so people who know the code to the gate around your property, who can get close enough to ring the actual doorbell.

you scramble out of bed pulling a robe on over your pajamas and running toward your front door. is it your mom? your manager? you tug open the door.

it's sevika.

you blink. "hi." you say. "do i have something today?" you ask. she shakes her head no.

"no, i--"

"i think i should give you a raise." you blurt. sevika blinks.

"what?"

you shrug. "do you wanna come in?" you ask. sevika shakes her head no. you freeze. "...okay?"

"here." she says, shoving flowers into your grip. you look down at them, a bouquet of your favorite colors. "i lied to you." she whispers.

"...about what?"

"i did want to kiss you. i'm sorry. if you want me to resign..."

"what!?" you shout. "why would i want you to resign?" you ask. sevika blinks up at you and shrugs.

"i have feelings for you. it's unprofessional." she says.

you laugh. sevika cringes, like you're laughing at her. you reach out and grab her hand before she can spiral.

"i have feelings for you too. i was really hopin' you were gonna kiss me. i spent all day in bed today 'cause you said you didn't want to. it's beyond unprofessional." you admit. sevika's jaw drops. "i don't want you to quit. i was serious about the raise. i just wanna say that before i kiss you so it's not, like, nepotism or something." sevika blinks at you. "is that okay?" you ask. she nods. you grin.

her arms have always inticed you, the steady way they guide you through crowds, the powerful way they push and beat off people who try to get near you, the way they fill out her blazers and button ups. but your new favorite, by a mile, is the gentle way they wrap around your body to hold you closer to her as you kiss.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights

[gothamite-rambler]

Lex pt 2

Lex (in the middle of a long, boring story): I had Superman on the ropes. I could've killed him, but then freaking Batman ruined things!

Bruce (staring into his coffee cup): Tragic loss.

Lex: Right! I almost had him and then that jerk stepped in, but wait let me go back to what led up to that. You know, before Batman stepped in.

Bruce: Mm-hm.

Bruce stayed focused on his black coffee as Lex continued to drone on about this past incident, which Bruce didn’t believe, mainly because he was there as Batman. Lex didn’t almost kill Superman; he had kryptonite that Batman was able to swipe away quickly. Currently, though, he wasn’t Batman. He was Bruce Wayne, lost in his own thoughts.

Bruce (in his head): I'm so tired... I only got an hour of sleep. Younger me could keep going on forty-five minutes, but now I can barely focus. Is Lex still talking, he repeated this story once already?

Lex (continuing to ramble): I hired a good lawyer, though, and those charges were dropped! Great, right?

Bruce: Fantastic. Want to discuss another story about yourself?

Lex smiled, feeling this was an appreciation of him, when in reality, Bruce would rather be anywhere else at the moment but was too checked out to leave.

Clark (calling from a distance): Bruce?

Clark visited Gotham to search for Bruce, needing his aid for a plan involving Lex, who was currently in the middle of scheme in Metropolis. He wasn’t expecting his buddy to be out for coffee. Lex, thankfully unaware of who Clark Kent really was, had no idea why the reporter from Metropolis was in the fancier part of town.

Lex: Bruce, there’s a crazy person calling for you!

Bruce glanced behind his shoulder, then returned to staring into the dark liquid.

Bruce: That’s a friend of mine.

Clark heard Bruce say that and smiled happily.

Lex: A poor guy is your friend? As a joke or something?

Clark, having overheard what Lex said next, changed his smile to a stoic expression. He wasn’t surprised that even in civilian clothes, Lex couldn’t resist being a jerk to the middle class or poor. Clark made it to the table where Lex eyed him suspiciously while Bruce wondered what the graining specks in his coffee were.

Clark Kent (stammering): Bruce… Wh-Why is that random guy with you at this place?

Lex Luthor (rude): Random? That’s rich coming from you. Oh wait, you’re not rich either; I can tell. To spare my friend the stress, I’ll order you kindly to leave.

Clark clenched his fists tightly, staying next to Bruce and preparing to pull him away.

Clark: I’m here to see my best buddy! I was visiting Gotham to... get lunch with him at a good restaurant, not this fake French cuisine with tiny food and expensive prices.

Lex smirked, resting his arms on the table.

Lex: That was a long-winded way of saying you’re poor and taking him to a gross fast food joint.

Clark: Well, Bruce would disagree. He likes cheap and simple foods, right Bruce?

Bruce hummed while taking a long sip from his coffee, the bitter taste refreshing on his tongue as he felt his mind become less weary. Bruce raised an index finger as he downed the entire fancy clear mug of his black coffee.

Lex (judgmental glare): He’s ignoring you. Take that as a hint.

Clark: No, he’s tired and needs a minute.

With a playful smack, Clark tapped Bruce on the back of the head as Bruce placed the empty glass back on the saucer.

Bruce: All right, that tasted bitter. Just how I like my coffee. Clark, when did you get here?

Lex (chuckling): Oh, ouch! He wasn’t even aware you were near him. That’s what you get for hitting him. Who do you think you are?

Clark: More important to him than you, isn’t that right, Bruce?

Bruce (shrugging): I mean, I’d rather be at work.

Lex (oblivious): Bruce, I get it. This nuisance is bothering you. I’ve seen him in Metropolis. He’s just a paperboy.

Clark (shocked): Paperboy?!

Bruce (correcting): He’s a reporter and journalist at the Daily Planet.

Clark: That’s right!

Lex (laughing): A reporter? That’s hilarious. The fact that he thinks he’s friends with you is even funnier. I thought you bottom feeders were supposed to be good at research and noticing the obvious.

Bruce eyed Clark warily but remained silent since this wasn’t his villain.

Lex: Bruce, pal, what did you tell him? I need to know so I can use it on another poor person.

Bruce: We’re actually friends; there’s nothing deceitful about it.

Clark: Aww, thanks Bruce.

Lex scoffed, remaining doubtful about this, which only made Clark angrier.

Clark (tight smile): The crazy thing is, I recognize you. Lexie, was it? Insane billionaire, arrested numerous times but always walks away because of your money… Superman has beaten you to a pulp how many times? Lost count. Bruce, you know how many times he lost?

Bruce (dryly): I stopped counting after fifty.

Lex (clenching his jaw): Okay, my name is Lex. Lex Luthor, and the charges were dropped.

Clark (sarcastic): Yeah, daddy’s money does that for you.

Bruce cleared his throat, visibly annoyed.

Clark (stumbling over his words): Not—Not you, buddy. You haven’t committed serious crimes and then walked away because you threw money at the problem.

Lex: Okay, but he’s bailed his son out of jail a lot. Sorry, Bruce, just needed to prove a point.

Bruce shrugged, getting up to get another cup of coffee. Clark and Lex waited for a few seconds, silently judging the other man.

Clark (speaking first): I have to admit, though, Lex, you look less crazed and disheveled than you did in that mugshot where you got arrested for punching a yacht captain. Impressive, did you make sure to buy out the shirts they're selling of your mugshot on the front?

Lex: He told me he’d kick me off the ship when I did nothing wrong! And yes, I'm fighting for a copyright on the shirts! That's my money!

Bruce sat back down at the table with a new cup of coffee and took another sip.

Bruce: I’m going to take this with me.

Bruce poured the rest of the contents into a travel mug he brought with him, causing Lex to look on in shock.

Lex: He got that from you, Cline? Only poor people take leftover coffee with them!

Clark (gritted teeth): My name is Clark.

Lex (smirking): Paperboy, don’t you have a sensationalist, false story to write?

Clark: Hey, we fact-check all our sources! That was only in the '60s!

Bruce stared at his carrot cake, pondering if he should’ve gotten a different flavor.

Bruce: I should’ve gotten the strawberry cake. This is too dry.

Lex (glaring at Clark): I’m not sure what he told you, poor man, but he probably just said that you were friends to be nice. So I’m going to say this one last time: leave.

Clark clenched his fists, anger bubbling beneath the surface. Bruce sighed, standing up with his travel mug.

Bruce: Clark clearly needs me for something urgent, Alexander. My apologies, but I have to talk to him before he says or does something he regrets.

Clark gulped, holding his head down.

Bruce: We can meet up in three weeks.

Lex shrugged.

Lex: Works for me; we can discuss that merger you were interested in.

Bruce (shaking his head): I wasn’t, but put that in the back of your mind for next time. Clark, go the other way.

Clark (smugly): I will. Have the day you deserve, Alexander.

Lex: You call me Lex!

Clark walked off, smiling. Bruce raised his coffee as a sign of goodbye to Lex and followed behind Clark. Lex crossed his arms, perplexed at one thing and assuming the two were out of earshot.

Lex: Bruce is a strange man, but is he friends with that guy because he’s lonely? Geez, I have to find some middle-class people he can be around.

Clark groaned, unfortunately overhearing what Lex said.

Bruce: He’s talking about us?

Clark: Yes... I hate that guy. When were you going to tell me you were talking to that asshole? Is this like Arthur? What does he have that I don’t?

Bruce: Oh my God, for the last time, Arthur and I are friends. Get over it. With Lex, we got stuck in an elevator during a business trip. He kept rambling about the dumbest shit and blaming everyone for his crimes, but he assumed me barely responding meant I wanted to be his friend. He hasn't left me alone since.

Clark (nodding): That sounds about Lex.

Bruce chuckled, agreeing.

Bruce: Yep, today he caught me when I was tired and offered to buy me coffee. I couldn’t say no; it’s free coffee.

Clark (gently patting Bruce on the back): Also fair. Freaking Lex, trying to steal my best buddy.

Bruce: I can’t believe I’m in the middle of this. What did you actually visit for?

Clark (serious): Well, bad news... Lex is after Batman this time, and I thought you should know.

Bruce (concerned): How did you find this out?

Clark: A reporter has his ways of finding out because I'm a credible one. Not one that spreads false news!

Bruce: We are not even near him anymore; calm down. We can discuss the rest of this at the manor.

Clark: Perfect.

Clark placed his arm on Bruce’s shoulder, but the man sidestepped away, not in the mood.

pt 1

[chaussetteblanche]

the truth

pairing : sierra six x f!reader

summary : sierra is hired to protect you after your publish a controversial book going against multiple governments and something goes wrong during the night

words count : about 1.7k

warnings : canon-typical violence, swearing

notes : might make this into a series, idk

The sound of gunshots downstairs pulled you from your peaceful trance. You hurriedly put your book down and, as quietly as possible, slipped out of the warm and soapy water of your bath. Watery footprints followed you as you went to pull your robe on and grab the gun hidden in the bathroom. In all your years in the field, you’d come to know your way around the weapon and even though you hated using it, you weren’t opposed to it if it meant saving your life. Just as you were around to run into the safe room, as you had been instructed by Six, someone barged into your bedroom. You fell to your knees behind the bathtub, feeling the bruises and your heart hammering inside your chest

—————————

You thought back to how you had gotten yourself in this situation. It had all started months ago, when you’d published your first book. 

Being a journalist with purely political interests and works, you were quite well known around the journalism and political world. Your honesty and carelessness of consequences made you popular amongst the public and you were often invited to talk-shows. You had often been warned about what your wrote. Your boss was always worried about your safety and had insisted that you follow self-defense courses. But no one was safe when rightfully accusing nations of corruption and illegal projects.  You were never really safe, and you knew it.

After spending seven years on an ongoing project, you finally published your first book : The Truth. You denounced the corruption of the European Parlement, the illegal projects of the government of the United States and the unpunished crimes of multiple other nations. All accompanied by pictural and written proof, signed and delivered by yours truly.

The reception of your book had been a catastrophe, as you had expected. No one, save for your publisher, knew about your project. It had been a shock to the whole world. Suddenly, your assistant was getting calls from all kinds of governments and organizations requesting meetings and such. You never answered. 

You didn’t realize how serious it all was until your publisher, a close friend of yours, was brutally murdered in his apartment one night. It had been a shock to you and no matter how much you wished you could have prevented it, you couldn’t. The Truth was out and nothing could stop it as it sold millions of copies worldwide. 

The day after you publisher had been killed, you were in the kitchen making an omelet when someone violently knocked at your door. You whirled around, spatula at the ready when your door was broken down and a dozen of men dressed in black suits swarmed your apartment. Without thinking, you threw a raw egg at the man the closest to you and reached for your pan, brandishing in front of you as one would a sword. 

« Who are you ?! What is this ?! » you cried, ignoring the man wiping off egg next to you. A blond man with dazzling blue eyes stepped through the cloud. You noted the way his lips twitched upwards when he saw the egg on his colleague. With a single finger, he gently pushed down your frying pan until it hung by your side.

« We’re CIA. » His badge flashed in your face. « We’re here to keep you safe. We’re bringing you to a safe house. Pack a bag. We leave as soon as we can. »

You had done as you had been told and packed a bag. In the big black SUV, you turned to the man who had addressed you previously. 

« Where are we going ? »

When the man didn’t answer, the man sitting on your left took pity of you. 

« We’re heading to a safe house. Your apartment isn’t safe for you anymore. »

« Oh. » You thought for a moment. « And why are you protecting me ? What’s in it for you ? I didn’t hold back on the USA chapter. » The blond man’s lips twitched again. 

« I can’t tell you that. Someone will meet you and explain everything. »

True to his words, once you’d arrived at the safe-house, a huge villa right in the middle of Nowheresville, you were greeted by a woman in a burgundy suit. 

« Hi, I’m Suzanne. » You shook her hand even though you already knew who she was. Just like you had a guess about who the blond man worked for. You knew the process, but we’re shocked to find yourself at its centre.

« Y/N, » you introduced yourself. After preparing both of you a coffee, Suzanne sat down on the opposite end of the table and joined her hands. 

« I’ll answer your questions now, »

« Why are you protecting me ? What do you want from me ? » you asked immediately. The blond man, who hadn’t left your side and was now standing near the door, made a small sound, but played it off as a cough. By the time your eyes landed in him, he was staring out into the hallway.

« Your knowledge is useful to us. We know you didn’t put everything you know into that book. And we’d like to put your and your abilities to good use. » Suzanne spoke in a way that made you believe she’d practiced exactly what she was going to say, or that she’d said it multiple times before.

« Putting my abilities to use, what does that mean ? »

« It means we’re offering you a contract, Y/N. We’ll keep you alive and you will give us information on what we ask. When the whole scandal will have blown over, we’d like you to work for us, gathering intel and such. »

You scoffed. « And here I was thinking you were offering protection by some kind of moral compass, but I guess your priorities lie elsewhere. » Silence. « And so I guess that you don’t care about all the illegal stuff, right ? Because I think we both known I didn’t stay within the law to learn what I learned. » Suzanne shook her head. After a moment of silence, during which Suzanne seemed to really enjoy her coffee, you finally nodded. « Fine. I’ll take the deal. » You were no good to anyone dead. Knowing you wouldn’t survive when there was a price on your head, you decided this was the best option.

Since then, it had only been you and Six in that big house. You thought maybe you’d become friends, but he proved to be quite difficult regarding that aspect. He wasn’t particularly talkative and even though his eyes betrayed his feelings most of the time, you still had trouble reading him. 

—————————

You tried your best to keep your breathing silent as the man slowly trudged around the admittedly large bathroom. You gave yourself away when you gasped after he shot at the bathtub. White porcelain flew, a piece slicing your cheek. Hands barely shaking, your raised your weapon to retaliate but the man was too quick for you. 

His arms were around your neck in a second and you desperately tried to elbow him in the stomach as you struggled for breath. He chuckled and pulled your gun out of your grip. Thinking quickly, you rammed your hand into his crotch. He doubled over, groaning in pain and effectively setting you free. You scrambled to get your gun but he kicked your ankles and you fell to the floor with a thud. Your head hit the marble with a dull sound and your vision blurred for a moment. You coughed and winced as he stood over you.

« Bitch, » he snarled as he slapped you across the face. Your head flew to the side and you saw stars, feeling your lip burst. 

« Though you could get away, huh? A bit too optimistic if you ask me, doll, » he taunted, leaning over you. Panicked, you looked around you and took ahold of your gun. Before he could register what was happening, you’d uncocked the safety and aimed at his shoulder. You didn’t want to kill him, you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you did. You took the shot and he screamed, falling to the ground. Red painted your silk robe as you scrambled to your feet. You raced down the stairs with shaky legs, running straight into Six. He wrapped an arm around you and let out a small breath. Little did you know he’d been through all the men in the house, hoping, praying you were in the safe room.

His face was bloodied and you were pretty sure his T-shirt was wet with blood in the middle. He pulled back, keeping his large gun in one hand, and examined your face. 

« Are you okay ? » he asked, pushing his fingers under your jaw to tilt your head to the side. His eyes scanned the rest of your body and his brows furrowed when he saw the blood on your robe. 

« It- It’s not mine, » you stammered, holding on to his bulletproof vest. He hummed, a low noise in his throat. Suddenly, he stepped in front of you and pointed his gun at the man leaning on the handrail at the top of the stairs, clutching his bloody shoulder with one hand and his gun with the other. Unconsciously, your grip on your own weapons tightened.

« Did he do this to you ? » Six asked over his shoulder passively. His eyes never left the man. You nodded once. 

« Look away. » 

You did as he told you, turning to look the other way, one hand still holding on to the back of his vest. You gritted your teeth as several gunshots rang out. You heard the sound of a body rolling down the stairs and shuddered. 

Six turned back around, his larger body shielding your from the traumatic view. 

« Let’s go. »

He guided you out of the house, shielding you as much as he could of the horrid sights. When you finally reached the car, he hurriedly ushered you inside before getting into the drivers’ seat.

Once you had arrived at another safe house, Six pulled you to the bathroom. You pulled yourself up on the counter with wobbly arms and Six steadied you by the hips. You licked your lips, wincing as you tasted copper, and leaned back against the mirror behind you. Six pulled out a first—aid kit and started rummaging through it. 

He started cleaning up the cut on your lip and you did your best not to grimace in pain. Even though he was being particularly gentle, everything hurt.

« Did you do that to him ? » he asked as he applied a numbing cream to your bottom lip. You waited for him to pull away. You hated the way you reveled in the way he stared at your lips for a few more seconds.

« Yeah, » you croaked. « I shot him in the shoulder. » Six cracked a semblance of a smile and you chuckled.

« Good girl, » his deep voice praised. Your knees felt weak and you were thankful to be sitting down. You giggled.

« Did you hit your head ? » Six asked, seeing your unusual behavior. He examined the crown of your head with his fingers, lightly pressing. You hissed in pain when he touched a particularly sensitive spot.

« Yeah. »

« Follow my finger. » You did as he ordered and followed his finger from left to right, right to left, up to down and down to up.

« You’re gonna be okay. »

[bigdsgirl]

Love Next Door Episode 12

look i had to watch sports and do chores (sigh), but I am HERE now. and i have THOUGHTS. because lovelies, we fucking MADE IT!!!!!!

these two dweebs, just kiss again. <3 with your banana milk <3

god these two are children i am cackling, they cannot admit what is happening!!!! lmfao!!!

seung-hyo is dying and i love it

not him offering her food. DEAD. I will not survive the episode.

and not her being like hey!!! only i get food offered by my man!!

WERE THERE ANY BUGS????? lol omfg.

the way they continue to revert back to their sassy selves each time they transition or deal with wild news 😭😭😭

"I've always been with you" BYE I AM DUST

not the going through their history through small touches. BYE.

okay now smooch. please for the love of god.

NO GIRL not the hair!!! KISS AGJLDGJAFGK

omg he is so happy with them cuddling <3 this man is over the moon.

i will be the using the shot of them on a bench as a background somewhere, mark my words. or it's going to be the center of a bullet journal spread because AHHH

omg mo-eum girl, rock the interview! you got this babe!

as a hiring manager at my work, girl you killlling it

oh hi mr. seung-hyo's dad! and other guy! are we about to brawl? kinda feels like it.

goodness that man is just... so fine. silver/grey hair is gorgeous.

this man is so confused lolw hat is happening

YEAH TELL HER YOU LOVE HER! AND HE CANNOT SWAY HER!

YEAH SHE IS SO PRETTY HOW CAN YOU NOT LIKE HER???

HAHA OMFG HES GAY! GO OFF KING!!!!!!!!!!!!!

this. is. a. comedy. i. love. it.

well this changes everything and i love it <3 just two queens that are besties who work together <3

bahaha he's so embarrassed. i'm dying. the GROAN ma'am i love it

finally communicating, i love that. also she has a point! it's not her secret to tell! omg. and he's like "i married a baddie my god" and boy you are right.

omg "mom I'm an influencer now" omg she called it an influenza. I am using that now. ☠️

omg no not the blind date for seok-ryu

i have a feeling it will be the journalist and i will lose it

omfg his FACE when mom asked about the blind date. i will fucking die this is a comedy of the highest tier

cowards!!! you tell your biggest fan!!!

oh she knows. and a superfan would know! go off queen!

WE ADMITTED IT LETS GOO!!!

"I feel like my body and soul is refreshed and massaged" GIRL SPEAK ON IT!!!!!!!!!!!

not the flashbacks with everyone being like YOU ARE IN LOVE!!!!! and Mo-eum just in the background 😭🤭

Not her saying she's out of his league and that's why people never put seung-hyo and mo-eum together I LOVE HER

dear god if yeon-du is not her step daughter by the end of this show, I will be committing crimes of revenge. they are a FAMILY.

HELL YEAH MOM! Yeon-du should be her daughter!!!

ALERT! ALERT! GORGEOUS GREEN SHIRT ON HIM!!!!!!! I AM LOSING IT!!!!!!

he was built to be a dad, i luv him.

"arizona si, chicago no", what in the sam heck are these shirts, hilarious

he says look, i want to scream this from the rooftops that we are together. <3 and boy, I get it.

oh no girl. girl he is planning forever with you. oh no oh no.

oh girl, seok-ryu looks so cute in those PJs!!!

hahah oh girl you are going to regret saying what you said. he says no one can know? got it, 12 feet apart at all times.

oh girl what the fuck why you do that!!!!! that's his phone!!!!

I am glad he is standing up for himself. because i agree, her behavior is not appropriate at all!!!!!!!

movie! date! making out at the movies! lets go!

adventure day with the fam let's freaking do it!!!!!!

are we CAMPING???? YAY! I love a good camping trip!

oh they are such a good team <3 cute cute!

Mo-eum is such a cool cat, i love her

jfc they are such a family already!!! barbecue! water gun fights!

did this show just say trans rights? I am electing yes with the umbrella shot 😎

we love a trip sponsored by electric cars. fancy!

the 🤌yearning🤌

omg the water spot on the shirt hot him bothered! ope! omfg not the giving her his FLANNEL!!!!!!!

my girl looks so good for her movie date!!!! eep!! oh goodie, time for her..... to experience the "no one can know". lol he's working on architecture project, of course. omg everyone is cuddling except them!!!!!!!! WAHH NOOOOOO

what a gorgeous sunset for these gorgeous people. ugh she is the cutest lil kiddo. omg. wait. wait. is it time??? are we gonna.... ya know, talk about it??

WAIT CAT I SAW A CAT!!!!!

god she loves this girl so much, how can you not want her as her step mom?????

holy shit. holy. shit. she said it. SHE SAID IT.

i am stunned. what a beautiful confession. MO-EUM MY GIRL.

yeah let's cancel the agreement!!!! it wasn't a mistake!!!

NEVER???????????? SIR????? 😔

No no no no please, you three deserve happiness and its with each other! please!

god damn it. Now she's gonna take the job in antartica so he doesn't feel bad.

HAHAH the hand reaching. girl just GRAB IT!

LOL the "you go in first"

oh no not the doc visit.

OH THANK GOD ITS NOT ALZHEIMERS! YESS!!!!!!! GOD BLESS!!!!

Due to stress and anxiety??? well I hope that is the case.... I am not a fan of this. hmm hmm hmm.

LOL HES SO HAPPY!!! My lil baby <3 he's such a drama queen.

like father like son :)

oh girl. oh girl. I laugh because you did this to yourself. you asked him not to bring it up!

ope a family dinner oh my goodness. my girl Tae-hui stirring the pot like the queen she is

omg seung-hyo is so nervous and she is SO JEALOUS

these two are children omfg, just communicate

PARENTS OVERNIGHT TRIP????? SO THEY WILL HAVE THE HOUSE TO THEMSELVES???? LETS FREAKING! GO!

love the fanny back good sir

lol them arguing and seok-ryu dying, i feel the same

OH BROTHER IS LEAVING TOO????

oh we about to fuck. shit. up! let's go!!!!!!!!!

the parents being so silly and jealous of each other

oh he GOT THE LENS -- that lens is way too big but i love the enthusiasm lmfao - he STUDIED

GIRL TIME! YAY!

boy call her she might kill you -- i hate to say it

omfg! bestie boy time too!! except these boys need to stop being awkward <3

God bless Mo-eum, she is the truly best friend to both Seok-ryu and Seung-hyo <3

Mo-eum baby you deserve the world <3 i hope he grovels so hard when he realizes how much he mucked up

god this show just nails friendships at all stages, acquaintances, work friends, new friends, new neighbors, long term besties as youth, young adults, later in life. just ALL OF IT!

NOT Tae-hui giving him WEDDING CUPS FOR THE TWO OF THEM??????? A QUEEEEEEEN.

omg he mad a pet house??? for the kitty?? the she saved??? that she is allergic to??? omfg. i am a mess. the baby house he made them, and the upgrade now!!!

WAIT THEY ARE THE BABIES OF THEM??? AHH!!!

SHE WAS HIS FIRST CLIENT!!!! HE MADE IT! FOR HER!!!! WAHHH

date night at the crib! screaming!

he is so happy she was jealous <3 h

he couldnt focus at work??? omfg girl you are wrecking him

"comic books in my room" ooooooo is that what we are calling it now??? heh!!!!

first time in here as a your BOYFRIENNND

he's admitting he went for HER! not the book!

omg he's admitting how nervous he was!!!!!!!

BOY IS IN PANIC MODE FROM DAY ONE!!!!!!!!! WAH!

YAY COMMUNICATION!!!!!!

she said, bad thoughts are fine 🤭 and approved bad deeds? boy we are in it NOW! the DOOR IS SHUT! EEK! THE LIGHT IS OFF? OH HELL YEAH! LFG!

[pruneunfair]

I was re-reading some remarried empress chapters and it made me realize that Rashtas only trust worthy "friend" so far is a maid names Nikki who steals Evalies necklace for her and in general is pretty loyal to Rashta (so far)

And it got me thinking "what if Rashta had a group of women that would be by her side and make her feel loved" but since none of the nobleladies outside of Viscountess Verdi (who at this point is an unwilling ally) would actually like Rashta beyond basic manners, the friends Rashta would have could be the maid equivalent of Naviers ladies in waiting. Gossipy, sharp tongued, but with a difference of doing what it takes to survive. They would all have varying backgrounds but all would have grown up in some level of poverty, some maybe went days without food, maybe one was even a former slave and felt that Rashta being the hope for commoners was the best thing to happen in the eastern empire. At first Rashta would hire them both for brownie points and because she could relate to their struggles. They weren't noble enough to be official ladies in waiting but their support would be real and not fear.

However the maids I'm thinking of wouldn't dislike Navier just because Rashta said she was bad, they wouldn't hate Navier but they'd probably not care about her problems caused by Rashta since to them, Navier really didn't do much to improve or worsen their lives when they were still in poverty. This was inspired by the fact that the only people that rave about how amazing Navier is are other nobles and Evalie, the token common girl who's actually the long lost daughter of nobles. It could be a sweet moment for Rashta where she realizes that these maids actually care about her, and while they probably can't convince her of anything too powerful like Duke Ergi being a scumbag who's only using her, they could help steer her back into her humanity where she tries to be a better empress.

This doesn't mean that Rashta would have undying lackeies though, even if Rashta lived a life like they did, they wouldn't justify all her cruel deeds, I thought of some conflict that would occur once of them discovers what Rashta did to Delice and it becomes a whole "how do we you know you won't do this to us if we say something you don't like?" And even if Rashta explained her reasons and gave reassurance that Delice only lost her tongue so her safety could be guaranteed, most of the other maids wouldn't buy this and since Rashta has the journalist guy already causing problems for her, she would play it smart and promise it was a horrible mistake she would never repeat. They'd all stay but only because they are afraid of that they could end up like Delice and switch back into survival mode where they overflatter and exist to serve Rashta to save them from a fate worse then death.

This causes huge levels of pain for Rashta because now her own friends only fear her now that they know what kind of levels she would go to, spiraling her further into depression.

[theirbbygirl]

Bus Boy ; YJN

Word Count: 2.1k

Genre: Fluff

Tags: afab!reader, kindergartenteacher!jeongin, a small moment of stress and overworking but nothing too intense, small mention of reader's mean boss, barely edited i'm so sorry

You had never thought that something more than just a "good morning" could bloom between you and the cute boy on the bus.

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Every morning you took the bus to your work at 8 am and at 6 pm going home, and every morning and evening you would see the cute fox-eyed boy on the same bus as you. The two of you were friendly strangers, always sitting just a few seats apart every morning and evening and exchanging smiles or soft “good mornings” and “good evenings.”

Neither of you had spoken to each other more than that however, it was like an unspoken rule, try not to ruin what you have now. And to be completely honest, you were okay with that. You were perfectly content with seeing his cute smile in the mornings and the same in the evenings.

Over the year you had continuously encountered the bus boy you presumed that he probably worked at the kindergarten down the street from your office. He wore the same blue lanyard you’d seen the teachers there wear when you went down to interview a couple of the faculty for an article you were assigned. He seemed young, probably right out of grad school, but still held that air of capability around him despite his young features.

You worked as a journalist up the street right next to your favorite cafe, so when you both got off at the same stop he would go down to the school while you went up to get your morning coffee.

When the night came around, you’d run into him on the same bus, looking more tired than you had seen him in the morning, but that was understandable considering he worked with kids for hours on end. At times, you caught yourself mindlessly smiling thinking about how he would look like trying to teach a classroom of young, rowdy kids. The thought wouldn’t leave your brain, and you probably looked like an idiot smiling at nothing on the night bus home.

You saw Fox Boy again today, he was wearing black slacks with a light blue button-up, and a delicate pair of white glasses set atop his nose. His hair was cut differently and black now, compared to the light brown you had last seen. Somehow the look made him look so much more mature, and you almost tripped over yourself making your way to a seat towards the back of the bus. You went past him like you usually did, brightly smiling at him while he returned the action, adding a “good morning” to it.

For whatever reason, you were feeling bolder today, and took the seat next to him across the aisle. He didn’t seem fazed by your change of seating, so you relaxed into your seat and watched the buildings pass by through the windows.

“Are you heading to your work?” He asks, cautiously breaking the silence.

You’re left speechless for a moment, surprised he even asked you a question first. “Uh, yeah, I work at the Media company just up the street.”

“Ah, so that’s where you’re headed every morning.” He chuckles for a second. “I think I saw you around one time, you were taking an interview for one of my colleagues, back in August?”

“Yeah! I was,” You chuckle with him. “It was for a simple piece. I take it you work as a teacher?”

“Mhmm.” He hums. “Got hired pretty early, but working with the kids is always something I’ve wanted to do.”

You both laugh together for a few moments, talking about your jobs and what goes on during your days. It was nice to talk to him–really talk to him–for the first time.

“Jeongin.” He says and holds out his hand for a shake as he sees your shared stop come into view, and you realize we had been talking all this time without knowing each other’s name. “Yang Jeongin.” 

“Y/n, Lee Y/n.” You respond with a smile and shake his hand. “It’s nice to formally meet you Yang Jeongin.”

“The pleasure is mine, Lee Y/n.” His bright smile felt like it shined brighter than the morning sun.

You both step off the bus and say “See you later” before heading to your respective occupations. You looked forward to being more friendly with the Bus Boy you now have a name for, Yang Jeongin.

Two weeks had passed of you talking to Jeongin daily, and you couldn’t be happier. He was relatively easy to talk to, about his family life, his brother, and how he finished school in Busan and transferred to Gimpo for work. You shared your own backstory, how you were the eldest child of two and your hometown was Ilsan. There was something that made it so easy to talk to Jeongin, and you laughed a lot more often when you were around him.

Soon enough it came to a point where the highlight of your days was seeing him on the buses to work and back. Your feelings were getting dangerously serious, but you couldn’t really stop them so you didn’t try.

This evening, you were almost late to the bus, thanking the driver for waiting up for you when he saw you sprinting down the street. Work had kept you a little later because your supervisor wasn’t exactly happy with the quality of your work recently.

When you walked down the aisle, you saw a very tired Jeongin sitting towards the back of the bus, instead of the middle where he usually was. He was already passed out with his head leaning against the window. You chuckled and sat next to him, making yourself comfortable as the bus made its usual route.

The movement of the bus made Jeongin’s head sway back and forth and hit the window a few times and it looked uncomfortable if the frown on Jeongin’s half-asleep face was anything to go by. Carefully, you led his head to rest on your shoulder and let him stay there. A second later he snuggles further, finally comfortable.

You were glad he was asleep so that he couldn’t notice the blush evident on your cheeks. Had he awoken when you moved his head to your shoulder you would’ve died of embarrassment on the spot.

The whole ride to your stop he was asleep on your shoulder. He’s probably had a long day of teaching, you thought. When your stop was the upcoming one you reached over and pressed the buzzer to alert the driver that you were getting off next, and you didn’t wake Jeongin until the bus actually stopped.

“Pst, Jeongin.” You tap his shoulder a few times, and when that doesn’t work you brush your hand through his hair. Luckily, that does the trick. “This is our stop.”

“Hm?” He groans groggily, confused for a moment, then scared as his eyes go wide. “Oh my god did I fall asleep on your shoulder? I’m so sorry I didn’t mean for that to happen I just-“

“Hey hey hey, no worries alright? You were asleep by the time I got on and your head was moving around so I let you rest on my shoulder for a bit, thought you had a long day.” You smile sweetly as the both of you step off the bus.

“You could say that, I’m so so sorry Y/n I was really looking forward to talking with you tonight. I was gonna ask you something…” He trails off and pouts as if disappointed in himself.

“Don’t sweat it Jeongin, we all have those days. Besides, there’s always tomorrow, right?” You say, smiling up at him again.

“Yeah, I guess. Well, I won’t keep you here much longer, I’ll see you tomorrow Y/n!” He says as he begins to walk away.

“See you tomorrow Jeongin!”

Four days later, it’s your turn to be dead tired on your way back from work.

The day after Jeongin fell asleep on your shoulder on that bus ride home, you had gotten an earful from your boss. He was infuriated that none of you articles that you were writing were up to his standards and he sent you away telling you that if you didn’t get it together by the end of the week you would be risking your position. Not wanting to lose your job, you spend the next 2 nights and 3 days working, even later into the night at home. You were relieved that the article you turned in today was good enough for him, but by the time it was time to go home, you were absolutely beat.

You felt like one of those zombies from Train to Busan when you walked to the bus, and you felt a pang of disappointment when you got on and saw Jeongin wasn’t there. You took a seat and rested your head on the window, missing the rush of footsteps as you easily slipped off to sleep.

An incomprehensible amount of time later you wake up with a groan, realizing that you were definitely not rested against the window like when you first dozed off. Instead, you were on a firm but weirdly comfortable shoulder and a chuckle rings in your sleepy ears as you sit up properly.

Meeting eyes with the man who allowed you such comfort, Jeongin, you quickly melt into a pile of embarrassment.

“Sleep well?” He asks.

“Jeongin oh my gosh I’m so sorry I-“ You gulp. “Oh god, I’m so humiliated I didn’t mean to fall asleep on your shoulder. Were you uncomfortable? I’m so sorry-“

“Y/n, relax, you did the same for me the other day and you looked basically dead and I thought you’d be much more comfortable if you put your head on my shoulder instead of hitting it against the window over and over.” He smiles sweetly.

“You didn’t have to do that…” I say softly.

“But I wanted to, come on, let's get off the bus before the driver gets mad.”

You both walk out of the bus together after thanking the driver who had a knowing smile on his face as you exited. You stand in front of each other awkwardly when under the bus stop’s shelter, an uncomfortable silence wafting between you two.

“So…”

“I...” You speak at the same time and your eyes flick to each other, chuckling awkwardly.

“You go first.” You say.

“Okay, uh, well, I’m not entirely sure how to do this but I wanted to thank you for what you did the other day, I don’t think I formally thanked you for that. So, thank you.” He rubs a hand behind his neck, embarrassed.

“Oh, you don’t need to thank me for that. That’s what friends are for, right?” For whatever reason the mention of friends pangs your heart unknowingly, and you regret even mentioning the word.

“Yeah, friends…” He trails off.

There’s a beat of silence, and when you think neither of you has anything else to say you speak up.

“Well, I should probably get going…”

“Yeah, yeah, you probably should. Get home safe, yeah?”

“I will.” You smile at his concern and wave before turning around and walking away.

You only get about half a block away before you hear your name being called and fast footsteps coming from behind. You turn around and see Jeongin running up to you, slowing to a jog when he gets closer until he slows to a full stop in front of you.

“Jeongin?”

“What if…” He pants. “What if I don’t want to be your friend?”

You can feel yourself physically deflate at his words. “Oh, I’m so sorry then I assumed that-“

“Wait, no no no that’s not what I meant I-“ Another heavy exhale. “I meant that I want to be more than just friends, with you.”

This time your heart soars and you’re at a loss for words.

“Unless, you know, you don’t feel the same which I would totally understand I-“

You step forward to where you’re almost chest-to-chest with Jeongin, and he stops in the middle of his sentence.

“Can I kiss you?” You whisper out.

“Uhm, yes?” He says more like a question, to which you raise your eyebrows, like another question if he really wanted it. “Yes, please.” He says this time, and you lean forward, connecting your lips.

The kiss wasn’t anything grand, it was more like two high school students sharing their first kiss, awkward and unmoving. But when you separated from Jeongin he leaned forward a bit, chasing your lips. You smile at the action and peck his lips again.

“What if there was a way for you to thank me for letting you sleep on my shoulder?” You say.

“Oh really, and what would that be?” He asks.

“Get lunch with me, this weekend, when we’re both off.”

“Hmm,” He pulls a face like he’s thinking and you giggle “I like the sound of that.” He chuckles.

“But,” you point a finger at his face. “I pay.”

“Hm?” He hums confused.

“To thank you for letting me sleep on your shoulder.”

“We’ll see about that.” He says mischievously, knowing there was no way in hell he was letting you pay on your first date with him. 

notes from nyx:

so this is definitely something that has been sitting in my drafts for more than a year 😭 i can’t really tell if my writing has changed much from where i was when i wrote this but i tried editing it a little bit so it’s a little better, but i’m not sure how well i did with that 😅

i hope you enjoyed reading this and please feel free to reply/reblog what you enjoyed/what you want to see more of!! even a small comment is the highlight of a writer’s day ☺️

[ericdeggans]

Celebrating 10 years at NPR: The coolest job I never thought I'd ever have.

How to sum up the most amazing professional experience in a 30-plus-year journalism career?

That’s the challenge when it comes to talking about my 10 years at NPR.

My official decade anniversary was Oct. 1, marking the date my first contract with the network took effect back in 2013. Of course, I had been providing NPR with freelance commentaries about TV for more than two years before that – by the time I was hired on staff, I was probably appearing on air as much as most full-time correspondents, anyway.

(talking TV with Linda Holmes at NPR West.)

Working at NPR was the culmination of a dream I wasn’t even sure I had. I was a longtime fan of shows like Car Talk, Fresh Air and Wait, Wait…Don’t Tell Me, along with the newscasts, which I listened to religiously on Sirius XM back in the day. (To this moment, one of the things I love most about the NPR One app is that it allows you to listen to the latest newscast on demand.)

But I had also written a story in 2004 for the then-St. Petersburg Times (now known as The Tampa Bay Times) headlined “NPR’s White Noise,” where I documented how lacking in diversity the network could be back then. NPR continues to have its blind spots and issues with living up to its ideals regarding diversity and inclusion – but the network of today has made a lot of progress from what I wrote about back then.

I didn’t realize it in 2004, but seven years later, I would become a part of that effort – first, as a freelance commentator in the mold of Frank DeFord or Andrei Codrescu and later as a staffer who could talk about everything from how Black people are marginalized on CBS’ Survivor to the roots in civil rights and Black history of the song This Little Light of Mine.

(guest hosting Weekend All Things Considered earlier this year.)

For me, joining NPR brought professional benefits right away. I was asked to join the judges panel for the Peabody Awards the same year I was hired, which was also when I got to guest host CNN’s media analysis show Reliable Sources three times – allowing a transition from past host Howie Kurtz to its final host Brian Stelter.

But most of all, I gained a national voice as an arts critic at a place whose core journalism values I really respect – in an organization I would have never predicted I could join, even a few short years before I actually did.

This is something I tell young journalists all the time; keep professional goals in mind. But be willing to take chances that get you where you want to be in ways you might not have predicted. That’s certainly happened for me.

Now I've spent a decade at a job where I’m still grateful to feel challenged with new opportunities every day. And 33 years into this crazy career as a professional journalist and critic, that’s a truly wonderful place to be.

[jesncin]

just binged all your maws meta and WOW i’m vindicated. never liked the show but especially for all the reasons you said, and it’s especially nice to know im not “siding with dudebros” for disliking it.

also extremely crazy that we had the same idea for lois almost?? in my head if dc would hire me i would write her as chinoy with special attention to how american occupation ties into her history… (personally my mom always wanted to be a journalist but felt it was safer to do something else…), reading your chindo lois is like WOW. YOU READ MY MIND.

one last question: i know it’s a bit passé now thanks to #him, but my mom and i watched lois & clark together and i think the show (at least, s1-2 really) still holds up well despite being from the 90s. have you ever seen it? silly fact: when my mom first watched it in the philippines, she legit thought clark could be filipino in that show 😭

omg I love how the jesncin-talks-maws tag is becoming a safe space for Based MAWS dislikers :'D Because it's rough out here! It's really unfair how online spaces in particular have created a black and white culture war over My Adventures with Superman so that no nuanced criticism can come out of it. It just rewards corporations for doing less than the bare minimum and validates them into producing more mediocre stuff. They don't need our protection!! And wow thank you for reading all that!

AAAAH A CHINOY LOIS WOULD BE AMAZING! I love how her history with American occupation could put a much needed critical look into "Truth Justice and the American Way". Man, I'd love for an Asian Lois that could help people like your mom feel seen like that :') I can only hope Chindo Lois comes close to doing something similar. Also special fact, Lois Liando's chindo dad (Yunus Liando) is loosely inspired off of Junus Nur Arif, a chindo journalist.

Oh I'm definitely aware of The Recent Things Wasian Superman Said (yikes) but I'm unfortunately really behind on my classic Superman-adapted media watch! I'm in a Young Justice watch right now but I'd love to check out older Superman shows. I totally see it though!! The wasian features are strong in this man.

[miwhotep]

It's always a lonely feeling when you end up liking that character everyone hates with passion - and you even understand the reason for that passion. I am a Moriarty the Patriot fan for more than 3 years, but I never interacted with the fandom due to having Milverton as a favourite - well, my obsession with him actually started as a child, reading Sherlock Holmes stories and he was my favourite villain. So I was happy when I first encountered him in the YuuMori manga... and I was sad to see his character going waste because the author didn't take time to properly write him. But I started wandering on the what-ifs anyway.

His character kept intriguing me, because we basically know nothing about him. I decided to enrich his character myself - at least, with headcanons. Why was his hair fully white when he was too young for that? Going through a great trauma can turn a person's hair white - maybe he wasn't always the true evil he claimed to be, he just turned into one due to the things happening to him. Remember, despite being in a powerful position, he was no noble. Maybe he was once someone, too, who got broke by the class system and turned to evil thanks to that.

I have a headcanon for his origin story (and a fanfic I never posted).

He wasn't always had that fancy name, he just took that on later. He came from a lower-class family, growing up with a mother who got bedridden due to how the noble who employed her treated her. He somehow learned reading as a child and thanks to this and his wit, he was able to get a better job as a journalist at a newspaper. He was a really idealistic, young journalist who hated the class system and the way the newspapers lied to the commoners to serve the nobles. He became a journalist to give justice to commoners. He came across a murder where a commoner was unfairly accused of the crime - while actually a noble commited it. He promised the commoner to help him clear his name, but neither the police or the newspaper he worked for wanted to reveal the truth, because they were afraid of the noble. In the end, the noble hired an assassin to kill young Charles' mother (and fiance) for trying to get in his way. When his family got murdered in the flat where they lived, noone in the house helped them, despite hearing their screams, because they were afraid. Charles felt that everyone betrayed him at that moment - even the commoners he was fighting for.

After this, Charles met the child Liam who tried to comfort him and told him that he can't fight the nobels through idealism. He suggested him to blackmail nobles so they will do what he tells them and through this, he can get into a powerful situation and make a newspaper what's on the commoners' side and write about their stories. Charles took the advice - but his heart was already full of pain, hatred and the feeling of betrayal for both nobles and commoners. His dark feelings, the necessary evil method he tried to set things right with and slowly coming to a powerful situation fully corrupted him - and in the end, what remained from him is a ruthless creature who takes pleasure in ruining everyone's lives, the way his life was once ruined, too. He likes turning heroes into villains to show that everyone can become a monster like him - who was also a hero once.

He is actually a dark version of William - a once necessary evil who was unable to keep his heart uncorrupted due to the actions he tried to change the world with, and became true evil.

Well, that's the first part of the big Milverton lore existing in my head. I decided to maybe try to interact with the fandom after all, due to that one person who after all those lonely years, actually interested in my thoughts.

[risingsoleil]

Can we get a little Drabble on the kids being protective of Lin? They’re older now, maybe they side with Lin during a fight or something happens to Lin?

Republic City is celebrating its rebuilding efforts after Kuvira's army was taken down.

It's a huge celebration for the city.

Unlike previous events, Lin and Tenzin are finally joining as VIP guests rather than for their jobs. They're dressed in quiet luxury and glamour, along with their children.

The Beifongs have also had their experience with Lin being switched to another world, and the entire adventure has changed their children forever.

In the middle of the party, some reporters have circled Lin to question her about the increased crime rates, and how RC will handle the compromised border security. Though the latter doesn't fall in her jurisdiction, the press doesn't care and it seems they're attempting to pin the hard topics on her.

The flashes are blinding Lin and she can't sense Tenzin with her heels on.

"Chief Beifong, you haven't done anything to secure---ahhh!"

She can feel droplets of water lightly splashing.

Lin blinks and the flashes turn away from her.

All four of her chlidren are standing behind the reporters. The press is drenched with liquor, ice, and water. In her children's hands are empty glasses and unamused expressions.

Flashes explode at the Beifong children.

"I thought journalists were supposed to be accurate and fair," Jin remarked, handing a waiter his glass and reaching for a new full glass of liquor. "But I guess nowadays they hire anyone who doesn't know what impartiality means."

One of the reporters growled. "And I guess your mother raised all of you to be entitled, insolent br--AAAH!"

Three more glasses of liquor splashed in his face.

Kang approached him and shoved his empty glass in the reporter's hands. "Aren't you the guy who got fired from Republic News? And then you tried to sell secrets to The Elemental Times, and they still didn't hire you? Also, don't you have a cousin who's in a triad that protects you so long as you don't snitch on them?"

The man paled.

A sly smile grew on Kang Beifong's face. "Yeah, which one was it? Oh, the Rising Flame, I think."

"Kid, ya better shut your trap or else--" He raises his fist, but is stopped when a man in red robes stands between them. His eyes look up at the taller man and he clears his throat. "Master Tenzin, your boy has a way with lying."

Tenzin inhaled deeply, but kept his face straight. "I think the liquor is getting to some of us. We're here to have a wonderful evening to celebrate Republic City. Are we not?"

The press grumbled.

"Why don't you go and grab yourselves a glass of wine? You all look so parched and dry."

Reluctantly, the press dispersed but not without sneaking several other photos.

Tenzin reaches for Lin's hand, interlacing their fingers together as they look at their kids sternly.

Not a single sign of guilt or regret is etched on their faces.

"What did we say about getting involved with press?" Lin asked.

A shrug. "They were being stupid," Kang reasoned.

"You better hope that comment doesn't bite you in the ass, Kang. I don't need you to get involved in a triad hit."

"We've had hits on us before."

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing, Mom. Anyway, let's go have dessert."

Tenzin and Lin share a look, and they shake their heads.

"They were trying to protect you," Tenzin explains.

Lin rolled her eyes. "I don't need to be protected with the press. Now look. They might have just gotten themselves a hit by the triad."

"I know...we'll be extra cautious. And warn them, too."

[crumbsssscookie]

i adore girl! logan, like if she has zero fans then i'm dead! so seeing the update made my day amidst midterms season, so thank you!

but yes, i looooooove hearing logan's thought process and i also love how quickly she soaks in all the information that she is given. because logan isn't taken seriously and probably doesn't get the same attention from other people as her male counterparts. so i feel her hunger this chapter— that hunger for good advice especially from someone like jenson; that hunger to get her name out there by taking a chance with an upstart hire and her hunger to be on top of the podium. god, i am so excited for her to take the world by storm (even more because she is already an icon).

and also, having logan have the (potentially but probably) backing of nico and jenson is perfect. especially nico, who has been an advocate for women in sports and a certified girl dad. i think having them, two world champions, as an immediate well of knowledge is making me so giddy. i think nico will be her biggest defender (besides her family and sister ofc), will not let journalists or the hosts to doubt or discredit her in typical rosberg energy.

ALSO THE TRIO <\3 MY BELOVEDS </3 liam and yuki coming to her defences ):

and yes, i can imagine yuki's excitement at the arrival of L² in f1 esp since he probably mentions them like ... all the time ... (which he does with liam which is so sweet). but NOT TO MENTION THE PREMA TRIO ??? very excited for oscar to give the heart eyes energy towards logan; her being blissfully unaware ("omg new bestfriend!) and fred being an unwilling third wheel.

thank you again for this new chapter because ugh its so good. also are you surviving the break or are you also going insane? AND ALSO LOGAN TO INDYCAR POTENTIALLY? a win for us i think

— sunnie ☀️

Sunnie, I missed you ♥️ So happy, that I could brighten your day :3

If I didn’t have fem!Logan I’d probably gone completely insane tho, but the break is generally treating me well. Nevertheless I’m ready to watch this gaggle of men drive in squiggly circles again. Also manifesting for Logan to get an Indycar seat, I was sooo happy when he finally posted on Instagram again today about his whereabouts 😍

You’re right, if boy Logan felt kinda lonely and starved for attention, it’s unfortunately ten times worse for fem!Logan. She has to be a sponge in that regard, because even though she knows the future, she cannot say if the people that helped her along the way the first time, will do it this time around too. That’s why she hit up Nico, because she knew that since he’s that champion for women in sports, the likelihood that he would help her, would be high.

I don’t want to diminish the role he’ll play in the story, but he was a kinda fail-safe for Logan in the case Jenson would’ve said no. Again, with Jenson too, she knew the likelihood would’ve been high that he would help, but this Logans fail-safes have fail-safes have fail-safes. The prerequisite for her taking revenge at James is getting into F1 which is currently her highest objective.

Also, on the topic of Logan’s grid parents. You’ve nailed it completely. Nico has birthed Logan himself and he will not accept slander of any kind towards her. That’s his daughter for all he is concerned, the heir to the Rosberg dynasty, nobody will discredit her 💅And Jense is the quintessential proud father. He’ll do anything to make his daughter happy. Also he’d definitely put Mark and Nando on babysitting duty if he’s off racing Le Mans or something 🤭

2020 will bring the rise of the Prema Trio™️ and probably a little bit of jealousy by our resident Kiwi bc social distancing bans him from seeing Logan as much and Yuki’s off to F2 (so he doesn't even have anyone he can cry to in person about it). But I’ll make up for it with them trying their hand at streaming, since the pandemic will still be a thing

[mialovesharry]

TW RAPE

The biggest trial that France has ever known is happening right now in France.

If you haven’t heard about it then you should and share it because the whole world need to know.

For 9 years, between 2011 and 2020, a woman has been raped by men that were hired by her husband through an app. She was drugged, she has no memory of it because of drugs.

Her husband kept 20 000 video and photos of the acts, they discovered 92 rapes through the images.

The husband wasn’t paid by those men, he just had pleasure to see his wife unconscious being raped by unknown men met on the internet.

She has lost memory of events she even lived, she went to see multiples doctor that never went to check if she has been drugged. As she was old, for them it was stress… it’s always only stress when it comes to women and illness.

What will “save” her from more rapes will be her husband getting caught filmed under skirt of women in a supermarket, that’s when they will discovered all the video and photos.

He even took picture of his own daughter naked.

We will learn that he raped 2 women in the 90s and killed one of them.

51 person will be judged but more than 70 men raped Gisele, they were between 21 and 68 at the time, they are journalist, firefighter, workers, nurse… they are men you work with, men you hang out with, they are husband, father.

Some of them have AIDs, and IST they went there and never put a condom on, the husband never asked for it. The victim has 4 IST.

Some of them will admit they knew she was drugged and didn’t know what would happen to her, some say they thought it was a game and she was faking sleeping.

The husband asked them to get naked in the kitchen, to wash their hands, to not smoke, not wear perfume.

The victim was unconscious but they still made her do blowjob, which was a deadly risk for the victim.

Some of the men accused are trying to say it wasn’t rape because the husband gave his consent.

Gisele asked for the trial to be made public so the name of those men would be exposed.

2024 and we are still here thinking a woman is owned by her husband and the men decided for women. I feel sick.

I hope this trial will show the world how cruel men are, and it’s not because it’s the first ever trial of this kind in France that it ain’t happening elsewhere. We all know what happen in rich men world, so if a poor man can do it too, I don’t wanna imagine the number of victims out there conscious or unconscious of it.