#this man is in his office across from my cubicle and it sounds like he's fucking dying

[junonreactor]

screaming and crying and pounding on the walls

[rodolfoparras]

Capture The Moment

Pairing: Izaack Gauss x Male Reader

Cw: 18+, cheating, blowjobs, sub!Izaack, dom!male reader

Wc: 2k+

A/N: I’m fully aware that Izaack doesn’t have a wife but for the sake of the plot, he now does

Synopsis: In which Izaack’s wife asks you to keep an eye on her husband since he keeps coming home late, and you’re more than happy to help

Thinking about Izaack Gauss who always seems to come home a bit late and every time he does he looks very much disheveled hair mussed and three piece practically undone and of course his wife is bound to get suspicious so she kindly asks you to keep an eye on her husband, see if you notice anything suspicious and then report it to her and who are you to deny her?

The sound of heels clicking turns your attention to the glass window in front of you and there he stands, Izaack Gauss, dressed in the simple but chic three piece he left in this morning looking a bit tired from the day but besides that nothing about his appearance raises any alarms in your head.

“Sir,” he greets with a tired smile on his face as he searches his pockets for what you assume can only be documents. “Seems that I must’ve forgotten my documents today” he continues, but despite his words there’s not a trace of remorse in his tone “Is there any other way we can resolve this?”

A laugh escapes your lips, the sound echoing loudly in the otherwise silent lobby before you go to undo the lock to the cubicle you call office. “Come on in,”

The sheepish look on his face turns into something else, smile steadily growing til his sharp molars are on full display, tired eyes becoming more alert and swirling with something akin desire as he step inside your small office space.

Well inside you see that he’s undone the first couple of buttons of his dress shirt, thick dark hairs prominently standing out alongside the pristine white fabric. He’s even gone out his way to roll the sleeves up to his elbows, showing more skin than usual. And as your eyes continue to trail lower down his body, you see the sharp silhouette of his waist, tucked into fitted gray slacks that leave almost nothing to the imagination.

Izaack was one attractive man. You had thought so ever since the very first time you saw him standing in front of the little glass window, with a sheepish smile on his face as he dug around in his pockets for documents.

And when he spoke: his voice was deep and smooth, a couple octaves lower than what you expected it to be and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would take for it to go higher.

That was of course until you saw the wedding band on his hand and his wife standing next to him.

In that very moment you had realized Izaack was a taken man. Izaack, however couldn’t care less about that.

And as if he didn’t just stand tall in front of you, said man falls to the ground. The sound of his leather shoes dragging across the floor sounds all too loud in the otherwise silent office room but you revel in the sound, leaning back into your seat as you watch the big bulk of a man crawl up towards you.

He sits like a dog at your feet, cheek nuzzling up against your clothed dick, spit soiling your slacks while bleary eyes gaze up at you.

You almost want to drag this out a bit, want to watch him pathetically suckle at your slacks, want to watch those blue eyes turn glassy from tears, face burning red as he begs and pleads for you to let him suck your dick.

Unfortunately the limited amount of time won’t allow you to do that - an unknowing tenant may drop in any second now so with a nod of your head, you watch as his ring clad hand eagerly undoes the zipper of your pants, and you swiftly lift your hips, allowing him to pull down your pants along with your briefs.

You watch his dark eyes grow wide as your cock spills out, pink tongue peaking out and wetting his lips in anticipation

“This is what you wanted hm?” you ask, one hand sinking into his dark mane of curls while the other hand grabs ahold of your now fully hard cock, nuzzling it up against his face much like he’d done earlier.

Izaack eagerly nods his head, nuzzles his face closer and you watch with intrigue as pre smears all over his cheek and chin.

“What would your wife think if she saw you like this, hm? You say and yank at his hair watching for a brief moment as he snaps out of his trance, eyes glancing down at his wedding band before falling back onto you again.

“Jesus Christ,” you, laugh in disbelief “you wouldn’t even care would you” You say as you nudge your cockhead against his lips, and you quickly get your answer as you watch the way he eagerly wraps them around the tip.

Izaack had always been skilled with his mouth , you had known so since the very first time you saw him standing in front of a camera. He was quick with his tongue when interviewing someone, flashing his sharp molars when someone tried to intimidate him and sometimes even swallowing down his pride to get the information he needs and wants.

And it’s no different when he’s down on his knees, sharp tongue dragging across your tip, trailing kisses along the length of your dick before his tongue is once again lapping at your cockhead like he can’t bear to lose the taste of you.

“Mmm fuck- just ah- just like that,” you hiss while running a shaky hand through his hair as if it’s the only thing keeping you from losing your sanity.

Although there’s no smile on his face , you can see the amusement in his eyes as he gauges your reactions to his touch; irises glittering as he suckles on your cockhead, sharp molars purposely grazing the sensitive flesh.

“Holy fu-“ you yelp out and for a second you feel like the air has been punched out of your lungs, as you harshly buck up into his mouth.

The other man doesn’t seem to mind your rough touch matter of fact he seems rather pleased, contented hums escaping his lips, the vibrations sending sparks of pleasure straight to your dick. “Izaack fuck!”

Izaack continues like that for a moment, switching between teasing licks and suckling on your tip til your cock is practically throbbing with need.

“‘Enough teasing,” you groan out, this time yanking at his hair in warning and that’s all it takes for him to comply to your request, wet hot mouth sinking down onto your dick, taking you inch by inch til his is nose brushing over the coarse hair at the base of you. “Mph! God!”

It doesn’t take much before he sets a steady pace, and you lose yourself in the pretty sight he makes with his spit slicked lips stretched taut around your cock, fat tears trickling down his flushed cheeks whenever you graze too far back in his throat all while squirming around in place trying to subtly relieve his own hard and weeping dick.

The sound of the phone ringing pulls you out of your daze, and you quickly remember where you are and what you’re supposed to be doing as you blindly grab ahold of the phone and put it to your ear. “Hello?”

“Hello! This is Mrs Gauss. I apologize for calling this late but I was wondering if you have seen my husband? He was supposed to be home an hour ago but he has yet to show up,” the sound of his wife’s voice trickles through the phone.

“Mrs Gauss! Hello! Uh-“ you stutter out, momentarily feeling yourself going tense under his touch, like a bucket of ice had been dumped on you. Izaack however seems as unphased as ever as he continues to work his mouth on you.

“I really am so sorry for bothering you but I have a hard time going to bed without my husband, and to be honest I’m worried about him. So have you seen him?”

Oh, you sure had seen the man, down on his knees with your cock in his mouth while batting his long lashes at you.

“Yes Izaack- Mr Gauss!” you correct yourself but it comes out as a yelp as the man in question starts fondling your ballsack.

Suddenly, the phone falls out of your hands, hips jerking up as grunts and groans escape your mouth.

“Just like that. Ah fuck!” You moan out, head lolling back as you buck up into his touch.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” Once again the sound of Mrs Gauss’ voice brings you out of your daze, this time it echoes from where the phone cord hangs from your fingertips.

You somehow muster up enough strength to fish up the phone to you, hand shaky, voice breathy as you finally reply to the rather confused woman.“Yes! I’m sorry Mrs Gauss. There seems to be something wrong with the phone line-“ and just like on queue another moan tries to slip out of you but luckily you manage to catch yourself in time, teeth sinking into your bottom lip biting down so hard til you’re sure you taste blood all while watching your cock obscenely slide in and out of Izaack’s mouth.

“‘Mm should- should definitely get it checked I agree,” you say, echoing her suggestion back to her, before you lose your last bit of focus as Izaack starts sucking more intensely before he suddenly stops and pulls away.

The panic in your face must’ve been obvious because you see the way his lips curl up before his mouth goes slack, body willfully relaxing as he gazes up at you in expectation.

Jesus Christ.

You don’t even think twice before you start fucking into his mouth, losing yourself in the pleasurable feeling of the wet hot walls of his throat squeezing down onto your cock. The fact that Mrs Gauss is on the other line has long escaped your mind.

“…..it seems to have cut off again” Mrs Gauss says and lightly chuckles, sounding ever so oblivious to what’s going on, on the other end ” would you mind repeating what you said?”

This time it’s Izaack prompting you to answer the phone, a firm squeeze to your thigh brings your attention back to the present moment before you manage to utter some sort of response to her “My apologies, Mrs Ah Mrs Gauss. What I was trying to say is that Mr Gauss just entered the lobby,”

“Oh, alright, thank you,” she says and and sighs out of relief, smile ever so prominent when she speaks but you can’t help but think how the relief in her voice is a stark contrast to the intense onslaught of pleasure in your gut as Izaack continues to work himself up and down your cock “Well would you mind sending him up to me? I’ve been….”

But the sound of her voice fades away as you inch closer to the edge, the coil in your stomach tightening until it finally snaps.

“Ah- Ah Fuck!” You cry out, phone dropping out of your hand and landing with a thud on the floor, as hot ropes of cum spill onto Izaack’s tongue.

“Hello?! Hello?!.. It must’ve cut off again, they really should check the phone lines today. ” You hear her say to herself, voice echoing through the line but you’re unable to focus on anything other than the obscene sight that is you continuously sliding in and out of Izaack’s mouth with Izaack milking your orgams for all it’s worth til there’s nothing but pathetic spurts of cum landing on his tongue.

Eventually you grow too sensitive, body wincing under his touch and you use a shaky hand to push him away from you. “Sto-stop,”

The man reluctantly agrees, and pulls away from you, the last bit connecting you to him being a string of spit before it breaks and disappears.

Through blurry eyes you see Izaack, getting up from his knees, swiftly pulling out a handkerchief he must’ve been carrying with him and wiping his lips. He doesn’t waste another second picking up the phone that had fallen to the floor, before nudging it towards. “Hello?! Are you there?!”

One shaky breath is all it takes before you muster up the strength to answer her: voice breathy and strained, eyes barely able to focus on what’s happening in front of you as you utter the words “‘M sorry, Mrs Gauss I had to deal with something urgent but I’m sending him up now,”

[breakyourrxles]

❥get you alone (m)

↳ In which your new job as the company financial advisor makes one thing loud and clear: the no dating the talent policy is one that is quite frequently disregarded.

bang chan x fem!reader — coworkers to lovers, idolverse, forbidden romance, explicit sexual content. [6k wc] cws: alcohol consumption, penetrative sex (unprotected), creampie, rough sex, Chan wants it bad-bad, Bang Chan has a Big Dick.

Starting the new job in the summer would be good.

This is what you told yourself when you begrudgingly hauled all of your belongings across Seoul in the blazing heat, for a move that took all of fourteen hours – from start to finish, and even with the help of some friends. It didn’t feel like it would be good then, but you had to hold onto the self-imposed reassurance that it would eventually be good. Autumn was right around the corner, after all, and a shiny new loft apartment in an excellent spot in town was hard to say 'no’ to, especially given the salary increase you were taking on to top it all off.

Your friends constantly prodded you with jokes the whole day about how lucky you were – to be working alongside idols. You insisted that this were hardly the case as someone working in finance of all things. Not exactly the glitz and the glam of microphones and high heels. You insisted that the chances of you meeting anyone all too often were slim to none, much to their displeasure.

You wanted that to be true. You genuinely thought it would be.

After all, that was the case at the previous companies you worked for as a temp financial advisor – you didn’t see much of anyone that had been on television. You could count the times you had run into someone famous in the hallways of your work place on one hand, and it was always simply in passing. Nothing exciting. Nothing to report. Taking on a full-time gig at JYPE – you had no reason to assume any different.

Three days into the job, you finally feel a bit settled in. Papers, pens, and comforting knick-knacks just in all of the right places on your desk – it’s a sign of a newbie for sure – someone not quite yet frazzled by the whirlwind of what the job would entail. Seated a bit in the back of the large office room, you hear the door open and the woman at the front most desk sighing exasperatedly – cautioning something about how someone can’t be here, but from the tone of her voice, it sounds as if this is not the first, second, or even third time she’s said the same – and only for it to fall upon deaf ears just as it seemingly had today.

“I just need to talk about the budget for the video,” you hear coming towards you – and you can’t see him yet, but you can hear him getting closer, accompanied by the sounds of other financial workers in the office shuffling about in an attempt to remedy the situation.

The situation?

“We have people for that, you don’t need to come and do it yourself!” the woman from the front nearly yells, but by that time, the man has just about reached your desk – and you’re a little worried about what it is that you might have to deal with right about now. What sort of absolutely nuts, disgruntled, higher-up is coming for your head already about a project that you’re not even filled in on yet?

“Yeah, but I like to do it my—”

The stranger reaches your desk finally, popping his head around the side of your cubicle wall to find something that apparently must be surprising to him, as it cuts his thought process off in an instant. You watch his brows furrow in confusion – not necessarily anger – but more so that he wasn’t expecting to find the sight he had found. His head cocks to the side suddenly, and he pulls himself into your field of vision entirely, still visibly confused by the fact that he’s looking at you.

“Y-yes?” you stutter out, completely frozen in place with uncertainty about what the complete fuck is going on right now in this office.

“Oh!” he exclaims, realizing now that the entire scenario is obviously absolutely bizarre to you. “Sorry, umm, so I guess the other woman doesn’t work here anymore?”

“Suppose…not.”

“That’s fine, I’m sure you can help me—”

But the woman from the front of the office finally makes her way to the back where the both of you reside. The mans face dropping and beginning to take on that of a childs who knows he’s about to get reprimanded.

“You don’t have to answer to him,” she says to you, but also sort of speaking to him as well. “Despite what they’d have you think, the idols don’t actually run things here. We have a particular way of doing things and Chris absolutely loves ignoring that.”

…The idols?

It hadn’t crossed your mind before, albeit, a lot was going on, but since the I-word had been mentioned now, a lot of things were beginning to come together now. He is quite good looking, and given how revealing his tank top is – appears to work out, as well. Nice skin, beautiful smile…a little short, but that’s okay.

“I’m just a guy!” the man you have now learned is named Chris retorts as the woman takes her leave, and he turns back to face you again, leaning his arm up against the wall next to you, “what’s a guy gotta do to get treated like a guy around here?”

“Probably not be famous,” you respond in sort of a half-giggle, trying to restrain the smile from your lips as you turn back towards your computer to finish inputting some data. “But if you need something, I’ll be happy to look into it. You came all this way after all.”

Chris catches the way sarcasm drips from your last few words and rolls his eyes, gently tossing the stack of papers he came in with onto a empty spot of your desk.

“Are you going to treat me like this now, too? The new girl already tainted, how tragic.”

“You asked, I gave you a legitimate answer as to why.”

“Mm, fair,” he nods, pushing his bottom lip out for a moment as he considers the fact – then quickly finds himself along a separate path of thought. “So, what’s your name?”

You tell him, he responds that it’s pretty. You find that more than a little bit annoying, given your awareness of the incredibly strict 'no dating’ policy among office workers in JYPE, and even more strict 'no dating the talent’ policy – one that lands your contract terminated if they so much as even suspect that you’re engaging in unsavory behavior with any one of the idols under their label.

Chris lingers about a bit longer before you finally look towards him again and tell him that you’ll take a look at the paperwork the next chance you get, which, despite not directly telling him to leave you alone, he does manage to take the hint and bids you farewell, that it was nice to meet you, and that he looks forward to your next meeting…to which the woman from up front once again responds, “you shouldn’t be in here!”

You think about this story often now – the story of how you and Chan met. It seems so cute and casual now, like a story that two children would tell about how they met on the playground because the little boy pushed the little girl into the sandbox…except now they’re thirty-five and married with three wonderful children. It only feels that way in essence, though, because while yes – your relationship with Chan was far from married with children, it wasn’t zero.

And that was a problem. Ironically, mostly for you, it seemed.

As the months carried on, Chan did indeed continue coming to your desk for all of his financial needs instead of going through the appointed channels put in place by the company. He eventually tells you that he does it this way because he feels more comfortable doing it himself – he knows who did it, and when, and whether it got done or not. He knows all of the steps, so if anything goes wrong, he knows exactly how and why. Easier to fix. It makes sense, of course, until the few times you have to call him for some unsigned documents and he tells you to come meet him in the studio, or the practice room, or even at the dorm.

It’s not okay, and the both of you know that. You find yourself very quickly sneaking around – hoping not to be seen on your way to your secret rendezvous with Chan – and not even for that. But certainly, that’s what everyone would think if they were to know.

You kind of wished it were the case, too.

And there had been a few nights where things got a little strange. A little out of line. Chan was a flirt, and you wanted to be flirted with by him. The occasional hand grabbing, or his hand placed at the small of your back as he passes behind you, lingering a little bit longer each time he does it – but nothing overt. If you were honest, you weren’t quite sure if chan was into you or not. He was never entirely clear about his intentions. While financials and paperwork had obviously, at times, fallen to the wayside and perhaps simply been an excuse to get you into the same room as him, he had never made a move, and never said anything that would indicate a completely inappropriate and – by work standards – illegal romance between the two of you.

That didn’t necessarily stop you from desiring it, though.

It took nearly a year before the wall showed a crack. The impenetrable Bang Chan.

“Can you come to the cafeteria with it? I’m trying to have dinner before I get back to work.”

You roll your eyes, shoulder and face craned to hold the phone in place as you type on the computer in front of you and sigh upon finding the time – already much later than when you were supposed to be out of the office and also well over your allotted overtime for the month.

But, it was Chan, and yeah, you were a bit soft for him and the few quiet moments you got to spend around him. Even if they didn’t mean anything. Even if they never would. A guilty pleasure – partaking in all of the things that you shouldn’t.

When you arrive, much to your surprise – Chan is the only one there. Being well past office working hours, it was prime time for idol working, and you think that you’ve never seen the place so empty before – although, if you were honest, you didn’t spend much time there, either.

Chan waves you over to his table, well into eating a bowl of mild cup ramen as you sit just ahead of him and place the stack of papers on the end of it. You take a moment to look around at the scenery – which perhaps isn’t much to him, but for a moment, it makes you consider what it must be like. To live life as an idol.

The man in front of you manages to mumble out a 'thanks’ in between eating and you assure him it’s no problem. In a moment of his looking away from you, you take in for a moment his features a bit more intricately. The bags under his eyes from restless nights and messy hair – the gray hoodie adorning him looking potentially slept in from the night before – and it’s a little charming. You know next to nothing about this man, but if there’s one thing you know, it’s that he works hard. Tirelessly. Selflessly. For the group of men he lovingly refers to as “the kids”.

“Can I ask you something? And you don’t have to answer if it’s too personal or anything,” you start suddenly, placing your chin in your palm and elbow on the table as you look across towards him. He stops eating, cocking an eyebrow inquisitively and hurries his chewing so that he can assess the question faster.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“Do you have a girlfriend? Well, or boyfriend, I guess, didn’t mean to assume anything—”

And Chan snorts, looking down towards the table and grinning – and for a moment you could swear that he almost looks…embarrassed. Sheepish. Shy.

“No,” he says, ever so slightly shaking his head in response as well before looking up at you through his eyelashes, and it’s truly as if he’s self-conscious about the fact. “No I do not. Kind of hard to meet someone in this line of work.”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little taken aback – both by the fact that he answered the question at all, and by – well, everything else about the interaction.

“Surely that can’t be true, you’re surrounded by beautiful people everywhere.”

“You see, the thing about being surrounded by beautiful women,” Chan starts, shoveling some more noodles in his mouth, chewing and swallowing before finishing his thought, “is that they are also surrounded by beautiful men.”

The implication of his response sound insane to you. Is he really implying that he’s…not?

But Chan doesn’t give you time you think it out much further, starting up another thought. “The truth of the matter is that I’m just too busy,” he says, wiping his face and hands with a napkin, crumpling it, and placing it on the tray in front of him before sliding it just out of the way of your conversation.

“Most days I work about fourteen, maybe sixteen hours? And that’s everything: any filming, recording, then there’s the producing I do as well, plus I’m on the business end of a lot of the things that we get to do, and then when I come home I’m still sort of dad even though they are, of course, plenty capable of doing things for themselves, but it’s just the position I’ve taken on within the group…I don’t have the kind of time someone would deserve, y'know?”

“Yeah,” you respond fast enough to show acknowledgment, but his words run through your mind for much longer than that. A man that takes on so much more than the average idol.

You’d have been lying if you said you didn’t think he was sexier now. That’s a problem. Especially because the next question out of your mouth is extremely self-indulgent, and perhaps even gives you away.

A woman of stronger might may have been able to avert the trajectory of this scenario. That woman was not you.

“You don’t even have anyone you like…just, see?”

Chan looks up at you slowly now, eyebrows tensed slightly together – and it’s not anger, but curiosity to match your own. It’s sort of a playful smile that purses across his lips as you watch the thoughts bounce around his head in real time – holding your facial expression perfectly as to not give even more away than you already had. He has to be the one to speak next or it’s doomed.

“What do you mean?”

Fuck.

It’s not what you wanted, because now you have to speak more. It’s not even like you’re offering, or extending the invitation as it were, you’re just…curious. Innocently curious. Completely innocently curious about where his dick has been lately.

“Like, a friend…with benefits? I guess?”

The man in front of you holds fast, continuing to stare at you for a moment before cracking up a bit again and shaking his head just as he had the first time you asked him something that, to him, is completely absurd.

“No,” and you watch as he cocks his head to the side suddenly and smiles an awkward smile into the table – knowing that he’s about to admit something even more humiliating than he already had. “It’s been quite a long time since anything like that.”

Oh, now you’re really intrigued. So much so that the allure of playing coy is completely thrown out of the window. You have to know everything, and now.

“Oh my God, how long?” you ask quickly, jutting yourself forward toward him as if he’s some sort of exhibit on display for your viewing pleasure, and he pulls back suddenly, still laughing, but obviously absolutely beside himself in sheepishness. 

“Oh come on, really? Is it that hard to believe?”

“What!? Yes! Of course it is!”

“Why?”

“Because look at—”

It’s in that moment that you consider that this entire situation was a set up from the beginning, and not on your end. A sudden realization that all of the upper-hand you had thought that you had, never really existed at all. Had…Chan been playing you this whole time?

Chan sits back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and looks away with a smile, still shy, but obviously amused by the turn the situation had taken. Maybe it wasn’t a set up. Maybe it was just a happy little mistake.

“About three years, I just have other stuff going on, that’s all,” he finally responds to the originally intended question – before the derailment of what’s and why’s.

You choose not to respond, having already given far too much of yourself away to the discussion.

When Moa from the creative direction department celebrates her 10th year with the company, the higher-ups green light a huge party for it, citing her relentless contributions, hard work and loyalty. It’s your first time attending one of these anniversary parties, but you’re assured that most of them are not like this.

It’s one of the few times that the idols and the office workers mingle much. Given Moa’s direct work with the talent in particular, it’s expected for them to be invited to such a gathering, and despite it taking place at the company building, dress code is (not so) strictly enforced and everyone is told to “dress nice,” a guideline that works better for some than for others. If honest, not even you are particularly sure what this means – stuck somewhere between completely formal and business-casual, you simply decide on the latter…more or less. Something similar to the usual just above the knee length dress you would wear to work, but more casual, and a blouse with a bit more sheer to it.

When you get back to the building, it’s well past typical closing hours but the sound of a party is easily heard from even the lowest level. Nine floors up, the elevator dings and you step out with a bottle of wine in one hand and your bag in another – plus your eye out for Chan, of course.

And that makes you feel a little bit silly, yes, because this being an after hours party doesn’t make the company policies any more suspended. They are still very much in place.

But still, the joys of flirting aren’t to be ignored, and no one better to do it with than him.

When you step in, you quickly notice a few of the twice ladies there – beautiful girls, glowing from all of the way across the room, and Chan standing with two of them in particular, looking especially cozy – and you do your best to ignore the ping of pain in your chest that you know without a doubt does not belong there. Chan looks over and makes eye contact with you and you both nod a silent hello, before making your way over to your colleague, and the table in which you are to leave your offering of wine.

It’s rather quick, much quicker than expected, that Chan catches up with you – as you’ve barely had time to say hello to Moa before he’s placing that sly hand on the small of your back and greeting the both of you. You watch the look on your colleagues face switch to one of confusion – wondering why one of the idols is getting so handsy with you, but she simply smiles and thanks you for coming.

You suspect in that moment, that the 'no dating the talent’ policy is one that is frequently disregarded.

The black haired man to your side pours you a drink, then pouring himself, and you take notice of the way he’s dressed for the occasion – just a nice button down shirt and some nicely fitted jeans – nothing fancy but he took a moment to step out of the sweats that he had probably been wearing for a few days straight by that point. Appreciated. Chan hands you a cup and raises it towards you just the slightest bit in cheers before taking a sip.

You catch the way his eyes linger on the silhouette of your waist and hips before pulling away in an effort to not be seen.

“Friend?” you say, nodding towards the girls that Chan had been talking to previously, and watch him in nearly a panic raise a hand up as if to swear upon something.

“We’re just friends.”

“That’s…what I said,” you respond, chuckling into your cup and shaking your head, “calm down, we’re friends, not married.”

“And I’m sure that’s devastating to you.”

The response fully takes you off guard, practically causing you to choke on the drink you had quite disastrously already taken into your mouth. You think of why he’d say this to you – as best as you can in only the few seconds you have to do so: he’s been there longer, is he drunk? Is he stupid? Is he insane?

“What?” you retort, looking at him with a face that one would surmise that they had grown an extra nose since the last time they had looked in the mirror. A look of absolute bewilderment.

“You were going to say I was handsome that one time, back at the cafeteria, don’t think I forgot,” Chan replies with a smug tone, as if winning some sort of battle that you hadn’t known about.

“Yeah that doesn’t mean I want to marry you, are you insane?”

“I was filling in the blanks, whatever,” he answers back, waving a hand about playfully and purposefully avoiding eye contact with you. It’s true that he might have had a few and that’s what had been causing him to be so bold, but he was very much aware of the game he was playing.

Two can play, you think to yourself.

“So am I to assume then that you wish to raise a family with me, with the way you were just checking me out only a moment ago?”

You watch Chan bite his bottom lip in an attempt to keep himself from smiling – knowing he’s caught – he looks down to the floor before looking over at you. “Ah, saw that, did you?”

“Yeah, not sure you could have made it any more obvious, actually.”

“Sorry about that,” he says, playfulness dropping from his tone slightly and replaced with seriousness. It catches you off guard, because wait, no, I like what we’re doing right now.

“You don’t have to – it’s fine,” you answer back hurriedly, to reassure him and try to bring the both of you back to a flirtatious place, but the look on Chan’s face is yet again another reminiscent of that day in the cafeteria.

All according to his plan. You’re right where he wanted you all along.

“So, you like it when I look at you then?” he says in a whisper, leaning over closer to you to assure that no one else will hear the conversation.

Now or never, shit or get off the pot.

You lean towards him, meeting him just about halfway to close the distance between the two of you, before turning your head to look at him and find your faces only mere centimeters from the other.

“That’s not all you can do.”

Sneaking out of the party was the easy part, it was the finding a place where the two of you could be alone long enough to make anything happen that was the difficult part.

Ducking and weaving through hallways and doors – all led by Chan who had the better understanding of the area in which the two of you were now navigating, he dragged you around by the hand in an attempt to find a place that he could have you. Away from prying eyes. Just you and him. And from the grip he had on you, and the information he had divulged to you previously, his intent to completely devour you once the opportunity arose was ever present, and lended itself to a dull throb between your legs already – the man hadn’t even touched you yet.

“I know,” he whispers, darting around a corner and looking down a hallway to make sure that no one will spot you, “I have just the spot.”

“Ooh, so exciting,” you tease, but it’s only seconds later that Chan has his weight pressed against you, your back to the wall and chest to chest – lips just barely missing your own – and the bratty attitude is swept from you in an instant and replaced with unfathomable desire.

“Or I could just have you right here,” he whispers against your ear, hooking one of his hands up under your knee and granting his hips space between your legs against the wall – and you can already feel the tenting in his pants at simply the prospect of getting his dick wet again after so long.

It’s hard to tell him 'no’ to the idea, but thankfully you don’t have to, Chan knowing it being a poor one as he smiles and pulls himself off of you only to once again pull you towards an unidentified place that the man has mapped out in his mind.

You’re thankful that it’s only a few more twists and turns down halls before Chan looks around and opens a door to a room, hurrying you inside of it and closing it behind with a 'clink’ sound of the lock. the room is pitch black in darkness and Chan had already let go of you once ushering you into the doorway, but it’s not long before you feel his essence – the feeling of his hands softly grazing your hips and causing the fabric to bunch up at your lower back as his hands slide in the direction. Your behind meets a table at his insistence in pushing you only a couple of steps towards it, and the mans hands creep back down to the outsides of your thighs, only to slide up again and hoist you onto the table.

Chan hooks his fingers into the elastic of your panties, and it’s the first time that he finally, after what feels like a fucking eternity, presses his mouth against your own. Kisses that at first start out gentle and experimental, quickly devolve into needy and sloppy – and mostly from his end. It’s easy to tell that he is quickly becoming unraveled, and the thought of it only intensifies the dull ache already present between your legs. Slowly pulling the fabric from your legs, he carefully pries them open by the knees and settles himself between – pulling your body as flush as possible into his as he kisses deeper, harder into your mouth. An attempt to taste every bit of you that he can, no doubt, and the absolutely intoxicating feeling of unbridled desire for you making your head spin. Chan was losing himself in you, and quickly.

It had been a long time, and he was going to ruin you.

Pressing one hand up against your face, fingers slightly woven into your hair to pull you harder into his mouth, the other hand quickly dips down in the space between himself, and the apex of your thighs. One, lone, fingertip gently pressing against your folds and it’s not only the whimper that escapes your lips and is quickly swallowed by him that makes him grin, but the physical desire for him dripping from you, as well.

“Good to know I wasn’t the only one dying for it,” he whispers into your lips as he begins slow circles right above your clit. “You might not walk out of here when I’m finished with you.”

The words cause an involuntary reaction, that surely he’d have felt had he been inside of you already, and you’re sort of glad he isn’t just for the sake of being able to get away with how absolutely, catastrophically, horny just the idea of it was making you.

And bless his heart, the fact that he’s only able to make a few circles into your pussy by hand before he’s pawing at the front of his own pants in an attempt to free himself and finally have what he’s been wanting all this time. He makes quick work of his confines for a man not necessarily practiced in the arts of having a quick fuck in a dark office, so it’s impressive – almost as impressive as what he has to show for himself when he pulls his length from his boxer briefs.

Chan’s kisses get sloppier by the second now as you feel him lazily stroking himself by hand against your sopping wet pussy, the head of his cock prodding between your folds and up against the entrance to your cunt as he shallowly presses into you, but never enough to enter much at all, and you don’t want to beg for it – well, you do – but you won’t. Maybe.

“Do you have a condom?” you finally whisper, pushing to the side one of the computer mice to illuminate the room slightly with a turned on monitor screen.

“No,” he responds, peppering kisses along your jaw, but pulling back his hips from you just slightly.

“Okay.”

“Should I stop?”

“I said 'okay.'”

“Yeah but you said it as like, an acknowledgment.”

“Chris, I said okay!”

“Okay, okay!”

It feels almost like a brutal display of force, the way he digs fingers into your thighs from the underside and pulls your hips towards his – the edge of your ass just barely hanging onto the edge of the table as Chan lines the head of his cock up with you and not-as-slowly-as-he-probably-should presses in – one arm wrapped around your waist for leverage and the other hand placed firmly onto the table – it makes your head spin, the burning stretch of him forcing  your body to accommodate his, all the while kissing you deeply, passionately. The juxtaposition of Chan’s primal urges, his innate desire to have you, to be inside of you, to fuck you, compared to the whimpers that drop from his mouth at the way you’re so snug around his length, so warm and wet – a feeling he had almost completely forgotten in all of the time he hadn’t had it. So enveloping and all consuming in the moment.

When Chan finally bottoms out inside of you, it’s a hiss of “fuck, so tight,” and in your mind you think that it could be that, or combined with his substantial girth – the way you can feel every wall and muscle inside of you tugged and pushed with every movement he makes within you even in spite of your wetness. You don’t care to understand the how’s or the why’s necessarily – it doesn’t matter – what matters, is that you might be close already just from the way his cock relentlessly pulls at your g-spot with every motion, but you’re thankful when Chan seemingly begins to lose the will to be kind with his motions, and instead chooses to chase his own high with abandon – as thankfully for you, it’s precisely what you need to get there.

Chan brings a hand up, pushing you to lean back on your own elbows in an almost lying position now, hooking his hand under your shoulder for leverage to pull your body down and onto his cock harder. He’s losing himself in the moment, in your body, and it feels good watching him do it. Listening to, and now with the smallest amount of light in the room – watching him pant and grit his teeth at every throb and squeeze of your walls around him – nothing was sexier than a man fully lost in the moment of desiring you, and Chan was fully lost – the only thing bringing him back now, was the crash of his peak, which you are happy to accommodate, of course.

But as much as you were enjoying the show, his relentless fucking into you quickly brought you towards your own peak, where normally you were able to meet him with playful comments now the only sounds dropping from you pathetic whimpers and cusses – and his name, of course, which met you with a particular crash of his hips and a growl through gritted teeth.

“F-feel so good,” you whine, feeling the beginnings of your muscles tightening and knowing that he can feel the same with the way his eyebrows furrow tightly and his button lip pulls between teeth. Chan hisses at the feeling of your impending orgasm and the look on his face – beautiful brown eyes up through eyelashes and a weakened state, Chan is almost disappointed – knowing that your orgasm will inevitably be his own downfall, as well.

“Close?” he responds, knowing the answer, and you nod – allowing your head to drop back, only for Chan to pull you back to look towards him, pressing his forehead to your own as he continues his relentless pace into you. “Where do you want it?”

“In-insi—” you whimper again, unable to even finish the word. Chan takes the time to drag kisses down your lips, to your jaw, and it’s that moment that you truly break any sanity that he had maintained through the encounter.

“You w-wanted me, so have me.”

You know that he knows it’s in reference to his coming inside of you, that the distinction doesn’t have to be made in the moment, and it’s all in good fun, of course, driving him absolutely mad with only a few words. That’s the joy of it, after all.

The effect is immediate, as expected, as Chan pulls you tight into him and fucks into you at a relentless pace, chasing his orgasm without any other single thought occupying space in his mind. The only thing he can think about now is filling you with his cum, and that’s all by design, of course.

Luckily, the angle at which he has you immovable is one that works exquisitely well for you, rubbing at your g-spot and pulling at your clit in just the right ways that you’re babbling and on the brink of tears in orgasm well before even he is. A chant of asking you to come for him, come on him, and you’re gripping down and attempting not to cry out at the waves of release crashing over you – Chan fucking you all of the way through it before he finally reaches his own right after you – painting your walls with his cum and continuing to fuck his release into you, albeit gently, even well after he finishes and begins to soften inside of you.

It’s a long few minutes before he pulls away from you – out of you, gently tucking his overstimulated cock back into his clothing with a wince and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand before bending down and helping pull your panties back up your legs and into place.

Chan stays there, nestled between your legs and on his knees, arms crossed with elbows anchoring him on either side of your knee as he gazes up in awe at your beautifully fucked out state of being. For a moment, it’s hard to even imagine the same man being that animalistic, that primal, as he just was only a few minutes before.

But duality is sexy, after all.

“You’ll have to let me do a better job next time,” he smiles innocently from between your knees, head slightly cocked to the side.

There’s a lot of good things packed into that one, extremely short sentence, but figure you’ll address the most pressing of them first.

“A better job…?” you ask, intrigued.

“Yeah,” he replies, pulling his arms back and gently prying your legs apart again to make space for him to press kisses to the inside of your thigh, and you hate the way it’s already making you hot for him again.

“There’s so much more I’m going to do to you.”

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.

—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.

[z3nitsusgf]

I, The Sun

Ch. 1 - In My Mind

ford pines/reader: NSFW, murder, violence against women, possession, manipulation, occult themes, dark fic.

first chapter of something I’ve been working on, it’s more of a introduction/exposition rn but I promise it gets better.

1976 - Gravity Falls, Oregon

Ford has been having these dreams lately. Unpleasant ones. Ones that leave him feeling sick, where he wakes up with his tongue stuck to his gums, and his body is in a cold sweat.

Where they feel so real that when he wakes he checks himself for injuries to see if it was a memory or not. He can't grasp the material reality with full intensity, a part of him seems to reside far away and beyond what's tangible.

His mind playing tricks on him, a cruel joke. Because the next flash of dreams is him on top of a woman, his hands strangling her until she gives way to the darkness and he’s plunging a knife into her abdomen over and over until she’s nothing more than minced meat. He realizes too late it’s you.

“Doesn’t this feel good?” A voice purrs in his ear, Ford is feral and bloodthirsty, ripping apart human flesh as if it were animal. A laughing soprano rings through his head and it hurts.

Ford wakes with a gasp, clutching his chest. He’s in his room, in his home, safe and sound. He attempts to slow his breathing, the dreams reeling through his head like a spool of film. The moonlight shines through his stained glass window, filtering in through shades of light pink and blue.

He sighs in relief, “just another nightmare.”

Something wet drips on his forehead and he wipes it away, when he looks at his fingertips it’s not water. Something thick and dark is smeared across the pads of his fingers. And Ford looks up slowly, he almost screams. Almost, another splat of blood falls into his parted mouth and Ford scrambles.

There, mounted on the ceiling of his bedroom, a doe head has been nailed to the wood. Mutilated and dripping its fresh wounds onto the scientist, its heart stabbed with a dagger and left to rot.

A painted message of red is smeared next to the head, it reads; ‘can’t run’.

Ford’s vision goes black.

-

You chewed on your pen cap, the smooth plastic sliding against your molars.

You sit at your cubicle, which was for a lack of a better word - missable; covered in pages from your previous articles and various bands. Rings of coffe stains and energy drinks line your desk, pens and notebooks scattered like autumn leaves. You stared at your computer screen, your new story a sort of meloncholic evil.

A man in your city had gone mad with schizophrenia and slaughtered his entire family. When the police entered the scene, there were decorations of blood and entrails around the apartment, the suspect rocking himself in a corner and wailing. You can imagine him, 45 year old Richard James. Skin and bones, reeking of innards and cigarettes.

Wondering how he got to this point of his life. When just a couple years earlier he was a school teacher and going to dinners with his wife and kids.

It’s a half-written entry, a simple narrative of the events. There was nothing special about it. You look up only when your editor called you into her office.

Miranda Perkins, a fat older woman who wore Hawaiian shirts and smelled of cat litter. Her office is straight out of a 60s JC Penny catalogue. Her window overviewed the parking lot, a shitty sight. But for the daily post in Sacramento, it was as good as it was going to get.

You sit in her uncomfortable chair, moving side to side until you feel any semblance of relief.

“How’s your story coming along, hun?”

She tapped her French tip nails along her desk, looking at your through big rounded coke-bottle glasses. A string of pastel crystal beads hanging from the sides.

“I’m almost done.” You were nowhere near that.

“Good, good. Abandon it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Abandon it!” She singsongs, waving a gaudy looking pen in her hand, “leave it for someone else.”

She was soft with you, probably because you reminded her of a daughter, or because you were soft. You sat in an uncomfortable silence, listening to the ticking of her wall clock and the hum of the FCU.

“How do you feel about Gravity Falls?” She asks suddenly, holding her pen to her temple. A small dot of ink left behind.

“It’s a small town, smack dab in the center of Oregon,” Miranda loved the facts, she got her socks off when writers knew the basic demographics of small unnoticeable towns. You preferred not to discuss your hometown however.

“It was founded by Nathaniel Northwest in the 1800s, it’s got a big touristy lake and the biggest business is logging. It’s full of old money, trash, and tourist traps.”

She hums, “So what’s going on down there?”

You sat in silence, thinking of anything important that you might of missed. Gravity Falls was a town that was not noticed, tucked away beneath Evergreens and trailer parks. The most that befell it was the occasional flood or simple robbery. You had hoped that when Miranda called you in, it would be to compliment your work, or even give you a raise.

“Your family still there?”

“Mom. Estranged dad.” And your half siblings that were born after you had left. You always forget their names though.

“You ever talk to them?” Not since Christmas when your mother sent a gimicky card of St. Nick that read, ‘Have a Joyous Holiday!’ It was polite, you figured after downing four whiskey sours that you could give her a call.

“Not recently.”

“Jesus, read the news once in a while. There’s been a murder. A woman slaughtered in the woods.”

You nodded like you knew, your mother was the only one you had little conversation with and she had said nothing. Curious.

“There’s been three in the past four months, police are saying it’s a cult. Sounds like a serial to me.”

You fiddle with your sweater, a gnawing feeling in your stomach.

“Go drive up there, get the full story.”

No fucking way.

“We’ve got freaky stories here, Miranda.”

“Yeah. And we have half the staff as we used to and half the cash.” She adjusted her glasses, the beads making a small clinking sound.

“This is our chance at a big story.”

You still didn’t want to go, hands gripping the arms of the chair as if she’d force you out. Miranda sighed, “Look hun, if you can’t do it… you can’t do it. But think about it, it’d be good for you.”

Miranda was a surrogate mother in a way you never expected. She always backed you, even when you fell short of expectations. You had the strange feeling of not wanting to disappoint her. You gnawed on your lip.

“I’ll go pack my stuff.”

-

You packed enough for seven days, confident that you’ll be back by next week. Also taking with you the notes and articles about the case and your notebook. You threw in a pack of Marlboro green and some shooters. As you glance around your apartment you realize how messy it is. Scattered articles, news clippings, take out containers, dead plants.

As you take a final look at your place, you look at a framed picture by the door. A young twenty-something year old you in 1972, hand in hand with your best friend and first ever boyfriend from college - Stanford Pines. You’re in front of BU Univeristy, freshly graduated with your degree in journalism and Ford in his anomalies.

You’re laughing, about what you can’t recall, but you haven’t ever had a smile that big in years. You hold his palm, lovingly. You wonder what he’s up to now, it’s become a mystery. You knew he had grant money for his research, you never followed up to where he went. You fell apart after college, the tether straining when Ford started to dive head first into his career, he became distant.

You like not knowing. In reality, you don’t know why you still have it. Especially displayed in your home as if you were still together. Perhaps that romantic side of you enjoys the nostalgia of it all.

You’d rather not divulge that can of worms.

The drive to Gravity Falls would take eight hours, by the time you make it to the shoddy motel on the outskirts you’re no more than ten miles outside of your hometown. It makes a thick seedy feeling creep up your spine. To be so close had vomit pooling in your stomach.

You down a couple shooters in your motel room, the sheets are dusty and leave you itching. You should probably think of questions to ask the detectives, you decide to down more shots of fireball and vodka. You pass out dreaming strange things; you dream of your childhood, the occult nature of the case, the eerie events that happened so long ago you weren’t sure they were real - you dream of Ford.

-

When you wake, you snatch a stale bagel from the open kitchen downstairs, heading to your beat down Buick and driving into town.

Gravity Falls couldn’t be spotted from a distance, the tallest building was the water tower near the center of town. The drive is nostalgic in a sickening way, the scenery is visceral. The majestic trees are broken up by the strip of road in the center. You pass the welcome sign, big wooden letters before you’re driving by the gas station.

You know this place like the back of your hand. On the Main Street, you find remnants of the charming town. A beauty parlor, a clothing store that sold exclusively knitted sweaters and skirts, the up-in-coming VHS store that sold second hand movies. There’s only one real place to eat here, and it’s a greasy spoon called ‘The Greasy Spoon’.

The people in this town were what you called - complacent. They grew up here, lived till they got old, and died here. People out here, it’s like they don’t even know the outside world exists.

You see familiar faces as you drive. Susan Wentworth, the diner woman who always called you honey and wore too much blue eyeshadow. Dan Corduroy, the large ginger lumberjack who inherited his family’s pass-me-down flannel and could eat 20 hot cakes without puking. The Valentino’s, who were funeral directors and were some of the nicest people you’ve ever met, fucking strange though.

You decided to drive to the police station first. When you approached the receptionist desk, she regarded you with chilled contempt. Filling at her red acrylic nails and motioning you to sit and wait.

“Deputy Blubs with be with you shortly.” She smacked her gum at you. You sat like a patient dog, the shitty AC churning in the afternoon heat. You read the outdated magazines splayed on the small table, the scent of old paper and dust filling your nose. The magazines were from the 60s, full of outdated trends and styles.

When Blubs walked in he was already sweating through his uniform. Blubs was the upcoming deputy of the town who had a handlebar mustache and never took off his aviators. The receptionist motioned to you with her pen, mouthing the word “journalist” with disgust.

“Deputy Blubs, I’m with the Daily post in Sacramento.” You shake his hand, giving him your name as you follow him to his office.

He raises a brow, “Why are you all the way up here?”

He plops in his chair, “I want to talk about the recent events happening here, the women in the woods.”

“Good lord, how the hell did you hear about that all the way in Sacramento? Jesus.”

You shrug, “it’s a big deal, women going missing and showing up dead.”

“Listen,” he sighs, heavy and tired, “I don’t want this to get out.”

You gesture with your hands, “not really up to you Deptuty, the public deserves to know the danger going on.”

Blubs scoffs, looking out his window, “why’da you care now? You people never cared before about Gravity Falls.”

“You’re right. But this isn’t gonna be some exposé. This is important. And besides, I’m from Gravity Falls.” You let your voice die off at the end, like admitting it was some awful curse. He stares hard.

“What’s your name again?” You tell him, he rubs his stubble.

“My mother married out of her maiden name. It’s Evans now.”

“Ah, I know ‘em.” Everyone knew everyone here.

“Listen I can’t tell you much,”

“I don’t need much.”

Blubs sighed, contemplating.

You left the police station with a location of where the most recent woman was found. The old church back up in the woods.

Mallory Windsor, 22, found in the ruins of the old church. Couple of raw-boned, edgy teens found her when they were vandalizing the decrepit building. She’d been strangled, bound, stabbed 25 times, and her teeth were missing. Safe to say her funeral was a closed casket.

You trek through the woods to the taped off crime scene. The cawing of ravens bounced off the trees and your boots crunched the pine needles on the ground. You notice traces of dried blood on the cracked floorboards, claw marks from where she was dragged, and a tuft of blonde hair that’s stuck in between a broken branch.

You noticed in the plank on the wall, carved into the wood, was a triangle with an eye in the center a circular ring around it with markings unknown to you. You drew it in your notebook, you’d have to look that up later. As you walked around, you collected as much as you could with what Blubs told you.

Mallory worked at the boutique in the town square, she was considered playful and gentle by her family. They said she recently started going to church, that she had found God. Others say she was a no-good sneaky whore, running off in the night to hang with married men. Her mother was devastated to learn of her daughters death, saying her sweet little girl was taken too soon. The people of Gravity Falls were gossipy, they loved having “friends” over to discuss their neighbors or coworkers or what have you.

You, despite being a journalist, hated picking apart peoples lives like they were nothing more than a dead frog on a table. Perhaps that’s why you’re not a top story writer.

Your mind wandered, thinking about pre-teen you, running through these woods and scraping your knees and getting bug bites the size of pennies. Those strange little creatures that would run past you, growling when you got too close. You stopped and touched the crumbly dirt, picking at stones and watching little ants march their way through the muck.

You shivered at the feeling and felt as through you were being watched. But when you whipped around to stare, all the stared back was the towering evergreens and the sunlight filtering through.

This place always did leave a bad taste in your mouth.

-

You decide to end your night at the Greasy Spoon.

Walking in the log shaped diner, the scent of butter and too much maple wafted through the air. The tables were 50’s linoleum, the booths sticky with syrup. When you entered you noticed Susan still serving, some things never change.

“Just take a seat hun, I’ll be with you in a moment.” She swivels on her kitten heel, her big up-do bobbing. You always wondered how she could handle the weight of that on her head.

You pick a booth close to the back, the only other patron a man with his head glued to the local newspaper. You didn’t need a menu, and you’re sure as shit it hasn’t changed. Simple as a rock and cheap as dirt.

When Susan approaches, she holds her notepad and pen. She looks up with a smile that turns into a gasp.

“Oh! Oh my goodness gracious, why sweetheart I haven’t seen you in ages!” She leans over the table to give you a side hug. It’s awkward and leaves you drifting on one side as you pat her back. Cheeks hot with the attention.

“Hello Susan, nice to see you again.” You give her a half smile, nails digging into your jean-clad thigh.

“My, you’ve grown! Gosh you look like your mother. Anyways, same as before right? Steak and eggs?” You nod, a little awed she still remembers, and you don’t have the heart to tell her you’re not in the mood for meat right now.

“I’ll whip that up in a jiffy.” She singsongs, happily trotting back to the kitchen, shooing at a raccoon that had crawled into the window sill. You glance around the diner, looking over the jukebox and the stool-top. It’s all the same picture perfect small town diner like when you left.

You glance up, happening to look at the booth across from you. In it, you see a ghost. Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself. Your breath hitches, you’re starting to pick at the skin at your fingertips, feeling the raw bite of plucked flesh.

Stanford fucking Pines. In the flesh.

He’s staring, looking at you with wide owlish eyes, the brown gleaming under his lenses. He’s grown older, the lines of his face getting deeper, more textured. The crows feet between his brows is more prominent now.

“Ford-“ Susan plops your plate down in front of you, a heaping steak with eggs over-medium and potatoes. She puts a bottle of hot sauce on the table and winks,

“What brings you back here, hun? Seen your momma yet?”

You nod, a lie. “Just up here for work, Susan. Writing about the Windsor girl.”

Her smile drops, a flush of red creeping up her puffy cheeks. “Oh, that was a horrible thing. Poor girl, I can’t believe it.”

You nod, poking your egg yolk till it pops and spills golden liquid all over your potatoes. There’s a beat of intense silence, it’s uncomfortable.

“Well, I best let you enjoy your dinner, hun.” She waves her red acrylics and smiles, turning around to busy herself with the register.

When you look back at Ford he’s still star-struck, almost as if he’s looking at someone’s faded memory of you. He stands quickly from his booth, collecting his newspaper and book. He dresses almost the exact same as he did in college; dawning a soft red turtleneck, slate colored khaki’s, and a beige trenchcoat. His hair is still long, the ends fluffed up and starting to grey. Streaks of white striping like paint. His eyes were tired, heavy bags that were almost purple. He looked exhausted.

For a moment, you think he’ll walk past you without saying anything. Thinking that after all this time, he’d not want to speak to you. You’d rather that than make painful small talk about your life.

But he stays, sliding into your booth with nothing more than a shy, “Hello, it’s been a while.”

You nod, sipping your tap water. The tension is unbearable, you have no idea where to start or end or if you should even be talking to him in the first place. Things didn’t end so sweetly.

“Listen-“

“I-“

You both speak at the same time, blinking hard and looking down. You breath in, almost choking on the smell of a burning skillet and the insufferable feelings molded on your stomach.

“How have you been, Stanford?”

You offer this, a small olive branch.

He gives this grin that’s more of a grimace. Smoothing his hands over his journal, he can’t see the way you grip the booth cushion. He nods, “I’ve uh, I’m good. Research is going good.”

Always awkward, even in college. He was a nerdy little thing, more boy than man. So wrapped up in his books and notes and anomalies. You liked it, you were obsessed with the way he was so passionate. No one back home did anything with their lives except smoke, drink, and gossip.

At first, you hated him. Hated his ego and how he thought everyone around him was a sorry excuse and a waste of space. Something changed, things happened, you hate-fucked and bit one another, then you thought about how secretly sweet he was. You remember your first kiss with him, how he held your face and you panted into each others mouths.

“How did you end up here?” You ask, stabbing a potato with your fork. How long has he been here? Becoming infected with your town; grocery shopping where you first worked, strolling through the park you beat up a bully on, passing by your elementary school. How long has he lived in the place you wanted to forget existed?

“I, um, I moved here right after we graduated. Built a cabin, started my research, even had Fiddleford come help me a bit.”

Fiddleford, your cookie-cutter southern country boy. He was interesting, thick accent and smarter than most. You hung around him when you were seeing Stanford. They were buddies, college roommates, and now you learned - research partners.

Your food was growing cold, you could not stomach any of it. A rotting feeling of apathy was gnawing at your stomach. Ford waved his hands in the air, “Enough about me, how are you? Why are you here?”

It makes a fish-hook bite of anger pierce through you.

“I’m from here.” You mumble, shoving a forkful of runny eggs and potato in your mouth. Ford’s eyes widen, like a slap of realization.

“Right. Right you are, I had-“ forgotten. He had forgotten almost everything about you. You expected as much.

“You haven’t been up here in a long time.” It wasn’t a question, he was stating the obvious. You knew that if he was here since college and you weren’t such a coward, you’d have seen him sooner. Perhaps, you would have come up to reconcile had you known. A falseness you tell yourself.

“You mentioned you’re writing about the Windsor girl, how’s that going?”

You flick your eyes to his neck, trying to look anywhere but his eyes, it’s mostly shielded by his red turtleneck. But you see the creeping of an ugly hickey, dark maroon splotches sucked like leeches onto his skin. You clench your jaw.

“Fine, all’s fine. Gotta interview a couple people. Why? You knew her?”

Ford sips at some coffee leftover, eyeing you over the rim. You’re different now. So… sullen. He still remembers the softness of your voice, even now with the rasp of time and cigarettes. You’ve still got that snappy little bite, the one that had him wrapped around your finger.

“No. Never met her.”

There’s a trickle of something faintly sulphuric in the air, you think you’re hallucinating or Susan has burnt yet another hot cake. Probably just tired from today. Ford gives you a small smile the lifts the corner of his lips.

You and Ford make more pitiful conversation on the way to your car. It slowly dissolves into something that could be considered good-natured. A distant association, something platonic.

“Where you staying?”

Where indeed. You could go back to the motel but you haven’t got much money. Or you could stay with your mother. You grimaced at the thought and Ford notices your contemplation. You might just sleep in your car.

“Could stay the night with me.” He shrugs, hands deep in his pockets as the nighttime breeze drifts through the air. You look at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Not like that!-“ he holds his hands up, “I have a spare bedroom.”

You nod, toeing the dirt path with the toe of your boot. It’s like being in college all over again.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

He smiles, gesturing to your car.

“I’ll give you directions.”

You take your keys out and unlock your driver door, “You didn’t drive here?”

He shakes his head, “No, I was out collecting specimens for my research.”

His research, he never did tell you what exactly he was studying. You shrug, “Okay then, hop in.”

-

Stanford’s cabin is out of the way of town. Far out into the woods, surrounded in towering trees and foliage, you pull of the main road and onto a dirt one. A clearing in view, there sits his home.

It’s nothing special, simple construction with a lopsided roof and creaky splintering wood. It looks haunted, you don’t say that out loud though. That would be rude and you don’t want to be rude to the man about to share his home with you, no matter how dark and creepy it looks from the outside.

Inside isn’t much better, it’s hardly decorated. You almost chuckle in a way, it’s so similar to your own apartment. Papers and notes are tacked into the walls, jars and bottles of strange things are lining tables and shelves. He has warm citrus colored lightbulbs, it illuminates around the cabin and makes it glow with an orangey hue.

“I apologize for the mess, I don’t have many visitors.”

He scrambles to collect notes and papers strewn like confetti, huffing at the state of his home. You wave him off, “Nah, don’t worry about it.”

You’re getting eye level with his shelf; there’s jars of eyeballs, mysterious goo that shimmers iridescent, and other weird stuff.

“What is all this?” Ford straightens his back, adjusting his glasses.

“My research. I’m here investigating the anomalies of Gravity Falls.”

You purse your lips, a strange feeling creeps into your body.

“What do you mean?”

Ford gives you a stifled look that screams ‘really? Gonna play that game?’ And you shrink away.

“Are you saying you never experienced weirdness here? Strange things in the woods?”

The woods. Blonde hair, hanging entrails, missing teeth. Your breath quickens, you feel yourself sinking. Everything is fuzzy and you can’t breathe, he shouldn’t be poking around a place like this. He touches your shoulder and you flinch harder than you should.

“No! No, the only thing weird around here is how the people are so fucking happy to die in this shithole.” You swipe his hand away from you, flashes of childhood summers spent exploring those woods.

When you would wade in the creek with your head poking out to watch the gargantuan wooden monsters slowly drag themselves through the forest. Creatures that would follow just two steps behind you, cracking joints each time they moved. Monsters that would take shape of familiar animas, then skitter away when you got close. Screams would echo throughout the evergreens, things unseen. How can anyone witness a tree falling if they didn’t hear it?

Ford retracts his hand, looking at you with worry. Eyes softened, lips slightly parted, brows furrowed. You hate it. You hate when people look at you with pity and anguish, like you’re a soft underbelly of a doe waiting to be sliced open.

You shudder, “I’m sorry, sorry. I just, I’m tired. This case got me all worked up.”

You rub your own arms in comfort, avoiding to look at Ford in his big watery browns. He nods, “of course, I’ll show you to the room.”

He leads you gently to the spare, bag in hand and other on the small of your back. The room is clean, neat, and painfully sterile. Devoid of any personality or substance. It’ll do just fine.

“Not many people use this, sheets are clean and there’s a bathroom down the hall to the left. I’m only the next door down.”

You nod slowly, the wearing exhaustion is making your head throb and your bones ache from sitting for so long. Ford pats your shoulder, “don’t be afraid to knock on my door if things go bump in the night.”

You want to hit him. He chuckles at your sour frown, turning to leave you when you call out to him.

“Thank you, Stanford. I really do appreciate it.”

He gives a half-pained, half-sincere smile and walks into his room. You hear the clicking of his lock, you do the same.

There is an ominous silence that makes the cabin, so deathly quiet that you can hear your own heartbeat in your ears. You scramble to turn on the lamp, exhaling in relief at the warm glow on your face.

Ford is next door, you are not with your mother, things are fine. You are fine. You will not acknowledge the scratching at the walls, nor the tapping at the window. You will pretend everything is normal, that this town is normal, that you are normal.

You fall into a restless sleep, tossing and turning until you succumb. Ford is prowling, just beyond your bedroom, he has slipped outside into the cool night and has disappeared into the woods.

You won’t even know he’s gone by the time you wake up in the morning.

[bloatedandalone04]

He’s Got My Name

➪the one where everything a.j. does, he does for you.

Warnings: spoilers for takers 2010, once again - no one will read this, swearing, heists, robbing of a bank, mentions of guns, kissing, brief angst if you squint, mentions of cancer, reader is very ill, alcohol consumption, smoking, mentions of blood, pda, indication of smut

Word Count: 3.8k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine♡

“Alright, sweetheart, it’s your turn,” John’s voice sounded throughout your ear piece. You quickly pulled open the door to the stairwell and made your way up to the floor that held a plethora of offices. “You remember what to say?”

“Of course,” you state quietly as you confidently walk down the rows of desks. The employees even didn’t give you a second glance as you passed by them and towards one of the empty cubicles. Your skirt and suit jacket made you look like you actually worked here, as did your heels and high bun. After glancing around at the few employees that were near, you pick up the phone from the desk and bring it to your ear that didn’t have the earpiece. 

You dial the number and wait a few seconds before you hear a voice answer, “News 14 hotline,”

“Hi, yes, I’m from the FedCal bank, downtown LA,” you say quickly in a panicked voice, making the pitch sound a bit higher for good measure. “There’s a robbery in progress.”

“Are they still in the bank?”

“Yes,” you answer sharply and make eye contact with a man across the room who was also on the phone. He gives you a concerned look, and you knew you had to wrap this up. “They’re a few floors above mine.”

The person was in the middle of asking another question when you hung up, dropped the phone back down onto the desk and stood up straight. Smoothing out your jacket, you stride back over to the door, smiling brightly at the few employees who looked up at you. 

You could hear the faint sounds of the guys upstairs as they robbed the place, and you all but slammed the door behind you once you were back in the stairwell. As you hopped down the stairs, you reached into your pocket when you felt your phone begin to vibrate. “Yes, my love?” You answer as you reach down to rid your feet of the heels, holding both of them in one hand as you continue to descend. 

“Angel,” A.J.’s voice rang through the phone and had you grinning to yourself. “Did you call the hotline?”

“I did,” you confirm as you neared the bottom floor, holding the phone away from you as a cough raked through your body. After swallowing the small amount of blood that pooled in your mouth, you bring it back to you. “They should be here any minute now.”

“Perfect,” he said. “You’re perfect.”

“So I’ve heard,” you tease as you enter the lobby of the bank, swinging your heels in your hand. You got a few odd looks as you walked along the marbled floor in your bare feet, but your lack of shoes would be the last thing on their mind once they found out what was happening just a few floors above them.

“Alright, get out of there, pretty girl,” A.J. said and you could just picture him blowing out the smoke from his cigarette. “Don’t get caught up when the cops arrive.”

“I won’t,” you promise and stick to it as you push open the front entrance of the bank and step out onto the sidewalk. “Be careful.”

“I will,” came his reply and you grinned when you noticed someone on the phone across the street, panic evident on their face as they were undoubtedly talking to the police and reporting the robbery. When you hear the unmistakable sound of a helicopter approaching, you knew he had to go. “I’ll see you later, baby.”

“See you soon,” you say and end the call, reaching up to let your hair down.  Turning the corner just in time to see the news chopper fly over the roof of the bank, you knew it was only a matter of seconds before A.J. began to play his role of an injured security guard in order to secure their ride out of there.

-

 Hours go by since the robbery, and after blowing up the news helicopter and parting ways, the group reunited a few hours later at the club they frequented. A.J. fell back against the leather armchair as John announced that Ghost was back and out of jail. “So I walk into my house and he’s standing there, drinking my whiskey. I was going to shoot him in the back of his head,”

“You should’ve,” Jake says as he hands A.J. a tall glass of bourbon. “The guy’s been out twenty four hours and already wants to do a job. He’s crazy.”

“Or he’s got huge balls,” Jesse offers from his spot on the stool. 

“Yeah, Ghost doesn’t play when it comes to money,” John adds, glancing over at Gordon. “He’s too smart for that.”

“The bastard’s not that smart,” A.J. rasps as he drinks the bourbon. “He’s clever, not smart.”

As the five of them conversed about the return of their former member, Rachel entered the room in a small black dress, looking nothing short of beautiful, but she wasn’t who A.J. was waiting for. 

Rachel smiled at the guys before sitting on Jake’s lap, and he grinned at the way his best friend got all flustered around his new fiancée. It was the same way A.J. acted around you when you first got engaged a few months back, and it was still how he acted now. 

He just couldn’t get enough of you. And that was obvious as his face lit up under the blue lights when he saw you enter the room a few seconds later. You were wearing a silver dress that sparkled under the LED lights and the slit in the fabric had him biting down hard on his lip as he caught sight of the exposed skin of your leg and a bit of your thigh. 

“Hi, boys,” you greet, purposely looking at everyone else other than A.J. 

Tease.

“Hey, sweetheart,” John said back as you smiled at him.

“Another successful heist?” You ask, already knowing the answer as you step further into the room. 

“You know it,” A.J. answers and you finally meet his eye. He looked so unbelievably fine in this lighting, and you held back a moan when beckoned you over to him with a curl of his finger. “C’mere, baby.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. 

You were crossing the room within seconds and sitting down on his lap, your legs draped over his thighs as he placed his free hand on your lower back. His lips attach to your neck as your arm wraps around his shoulder, your left hand coming to rest on his chest. Your big engagement ring was on full display and it sparkled under the blue lights of the VIP room. “I missed you today,” you said, already breathless at the feeling of his lips on your neck. 

“Mmm,” he hummed and brushed his nose against yours, turning your head so you were facing him. He kissed you softly, a groan leaving the back of his throat as he pulled you tighter against him. While you were a bit shy at first about kissing him like this in public, A.J. couldn’t care less, and he proved that by guiding you into countless makeout sessions that took place in front of the guys or just in the general public. After two and a half years, you grew to love engaging in PDA with him. “I missed you.”

You adjusted his bowtie as the other four guys fell into a conversation you couldn’t be bothered to listen in on, and neither could A.J. You were on his lap and wearing the most sinful dress he had ever seen on you, and he’s seen you in a lot of sinful dresses, how could he focus on anything else? 

“I hear you blew up the chopper after hijacking it,” you trail off, your mouth directly next to his ear as you two fell into your own little world. 

A.J. ran his hand up and down your hip, running his nose along your jaw as he nodded. “I did,”

You hummed and leaned closer to him. “I wish I could’ve been there to see that,” you whisper and make your voice as seductive as possible. You trace the skin below his ear with your tongue and feel the grunt that vibrated against his chest. “You know how sexy I find it when you do stuff like that.”

“I do,” he said and allowed your hand to grip the side of his face and turn his head so you could press your lips to his in a searing kiss. You run your tongue along his lower lip before his mouth opens and it brushes against his. He noisily breaks the kiss and you reach up to fix his hat that had become crooked during the whole event. “I wish you were there, too, baby, but this one was a bit too risky for you to have been able to stay. I would’ve loved to have had you on my lap while we were in the air, just like this, but I didn’t even like having you in the building with everything that’s going on right now.”

You shake your head and trace your index finger over the maze of freckles on his face. “You don’t need to worry about me,”

He gives you a pointed look and you sigh, eyeing the half empty glass in his hand.

You reached for it, but he was quicker and held it far away from you, his hand moving to tightly grip your waist in a warning. “C’mon,” you whine, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. “Just a sip.”

While they usually worked on him, nothing you could ever do would get him to allow you to drink even a drop of alcohol. “Not a chance, pretty girl,” 

You huffed and slumped against him, watching him down the rest of the bourbon before he set the glass on the table next to the chair. 

“Don’t get all upset with me,” he says once he sat back against the chair, his hand resuming its movement on your hip. His lips were glistening with remnants of the booze and you eyed them with a sense of want. 

And he knew that.

With a sigh, he uses his now free hand to brush away the fallen strands of hair from your face. “Alright,” he murmured, watching the way your eyes lit up. He was never good at denying you completely of the things you desired. “Have your taste.”

Once again, you didn’t need to be told twice. 

You lean in and eagerly press your lips to his, your tongue shooting out to run along his bourbon coated mouth. This way you weren’t actually consuming the drink, but you were getting the faintest taste of it. 

The kiss quickly heats up, and you were mainly licking his lips at this point. Once you are satisfied you pull away and press your forehead against his, knocking his hat out of place again. “Mm,” you hummed as you ran your tongue over your own lips, and A.J. held back a moan at the sight. “Thank you.”

He just grabbed his hat and tossed it next to the glass on the table. A.J. took your hand in his, his thumb turning the ring on your finger a few times as you snuggled up against him. “How are you feeling today?” He asked quietly so the others wouldn’t hear.

You lace your fingers with his and bring your joined hands up to your mouth to be able to press a kiss to the back of his. “I’m fine, Jay, really,” you tell him, glancing into his worry filled eyes. “It’s a better day today. It’s good.”

He wasn’t sure if he should believe your words, but you never gave him a reason to worry about you ever being untruthful to him, so he accepted your answer and pulled you even closer to him, suddenly wanting to take you back home and end the night early. 

And he would’ve done that, except when you excused yourself a few minutes later and he was met with the sight of Ghost, he knew his night had just begun. 

-

A.J.’s body was covered in a thin layer of sweat, as was yours, and he was struggling to hold himself above you while he got you to yet another release. 

It was nearing four in the morning, and a few minutes after he brought you to your peak, he was there as well and was finally able to collapse on the bed next to you. He falls onto his back and glances at out the window, the still open blinds doing nothing to keep out the four am moon. If your shared apartment was on one of the lower floors of the building, A.J. would’ve put the time aside to close the blinds and shield your body from any prying eyes, but seeing as it was on the thirteenth floor out of twenty, he didn’t feel the need. 

He huffs out uneven breaths, his arm blindly wrapping around your waist when he feels you move to lay your head on his bare chest. 

He had a long day, and it was nearing the end, with a new day just a few hours from now. After another successful heist, counting just how much money they received from said heist, finding out about a former ally being released from prison, and being roped into another job from said ally, he was finally able to end his day in the way he had grown so accustomed to. 

A.J. loved spending hours on end with you wrapped up in the sheets, and that was before he allowed body to fully relax and welcome sleep to take over. As cliché as it sounded, your bodies really did fit so well together. He couldn’t remember the last time he had let himself fall this deeply for someone, in fact, he was sure he had never felt the things he did with you before.

Long story short; you had become his entire world just five months into the relationship. You were everything to him.

Once his breathing went back to normal, A.J. turned his head and ran his fingers through your hair, which was a bit damp from sweat. Your eyes were already on him, and he couldn’t help himself as he leaned down to press what felt like the millionth kiss of the night to your lips.

He sighed when he pulled away. “I should tell you before you find out from someone else,” he began.

You lifted your head so it was resting higher on his shoulder now. “Tell me what?”

A.J. ran his free hand through his messy, post-sex hair. “Ghost is out now,” he says and you furrow your brows. “Let him out this morning.”

You bit down on your kiss swollen lip. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“Because he was released during the heist. I didn’t find out about it until a few hours ago,” he explained, running his fingers up and down your bare back. “He showed up at the club tonight.”

You prop yourself up on your elbow. “He did?” You ask and he nods. “Where was I?”

“Bathroom,” he hummed, his eyes flickering all over your face. He wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked, but held off as it wasn’t really the time to get into that right now. Damn Ghost. Still, he asked, “You took your meds, right? After you had that bourbon?”

You scoffed. “I didn’t even get a fair taste of it,”

“But you still thanked me for it,” he grinned and you rolled your eyes. “You took them, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed and tangled your legs with his. “What did Ghost want? When he came to the club?” 

A.J. sighed again. “He wants us to help him do a job,”

“A job? He hasn’t even been out for a day yet,”

“Yeah, well, no one ever accused him of being smart,”

You laughed quietly, your hand tracing over the ink on his left arm. Underneath the faded Yak, in much more vibrant and fresher ink, was your first and middle name. It was in a cursive font, and the two names were spaced out enough that it wrapped around half of his bicep, and could be easily read to anyone who looked at him head on. “Can I ask you to promise me something?”

“You know you can, pretty girl,” he answered quietly. 

“Don’t do anything too reckless, please,” you mumbled against the side of his neck. “You never do more than one job a year, let alone one right after the other. Just, please, be careful. Nothing too crazy, please.”

A.J. laughed, but not in a mocking way. He couldn’t deny the warm feeling that took over his body at your undying concern for him, despite him doing this kind of work for many years now. He was a rookie at it during the early years, but now he was more experienced, and he had you to come home to. “You worried about me, pretty girl?” 

“I always am,” you reply and watch his mouth open, but you cut him off before he could even say anything, “And, yeah, I know you’ll always come back to me and I know about the risks and blah blah blah. Still doesn’t change anything.”

A.J. laughed again, rolling you onto your back and hovering over you once more. “I appreciate your concern, baby. And I love you for it,” he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your lips, and you held back the tiny moan that threatened to escape. “And I promise I won’t do anything too reckless or crazy this time around. I’ve got you to come back to, remember?”

-

Once A.J. finished explaining Ghost’s plan to you, you shake your head and look up from your place on the ottoman. “I don’t like it,” you say and lift your head to meet his eyes. “I don’t like it at all. It seems like he’s making you guys do all the work while he gets the easy job.”

A.J. nods, lifting his hand in a form of gesture to his words, “Well, he was in jail, baby,” he points out. “It makes sense that he’d want to be more careful this time around.” 

“Still,” you mumble. “I don’t like him getting you to do his dirty work. This was his idea, right? He came up with it? So why isn’t he more involved in it? Wouldn’t it make more sense for him to be more active in this? He knows you guys have already done your job for the year. I mean, he came up with the rule to never do more than one heist a year.”

“Yeah, well, if Ghost needs money, then he’s getting money,” he muttered. “And with the amount he says are in these trucks, I’m not opposed to going all in on this one.”

You raise a brow and fold your arms across your chest. “How much did he say is in them?”

He met your eye as he said, “Twenty million,”

Your eyes widen and you blow out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Jesus,”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m not jumping at the idea of turning this one down,”

Nodding, you play with your ring. “I get it, really, I do,” you start, trying to figure out how to voice your concerns about the whole thing. “But why do you need that much money? You got a lot from the bank yesterday, isn’t that more than enough to get you through the year?”

“It is,” he agreed and brought the whiskey glass up to his lips. “Well over being more than enough to get us through the year.”

Your heart swelled when he corrected your mistake of not including yourself in your prior question. “Then why are you so adamant on doing this job? You know you don’t owe him anything, right? Ghost got himself into prison, not you or the other guys.”

“I know, pretty girl, and that’s not why I’m doing this,” he finished the drink and set the glass down on the mini bar you and he had in the living room of your apartment. “Think about it. Twenty million? Think about how much that will help with your medication and treatment and bills. I’ve saved up most of the cost, but with this, you could be cancer free by the end of the year.” 

You winced at that, hating the fact that he was doing this for you, to make sure you get the treatment you were required to have to save your life. You were already two surgeries in, and well over a hundred thousand dollars in medical bills, but this was too much. 

It was a risky job, and you had an awful feeling about all of it. “You can’t do this for me, A.J.,” you begged, staring up at him. 

He just gave you a look that left no room for arguments. “I can,” he said and you felt so small under his gaze. “And I am. If it means getting you back into that hospital for what could be your final few months of treatment, then I’m doing it. No questions.”

“A.J., think about this,” you pleaded. “You don’t need to do this for me. You can’t.”

“I need you,” he grunted, running his hand through his hair. His hat had been discarded a little while ago, but his hair was still a bit messy from it. “I’m not doing this without you.”

“Doing what?” You asked desperately. 

“Living,” he answered like it was the easiest question he had ever been asked during the twenty nine years of his life. “You’re sick, and the meds aren’t working. Not as much as the surgery will. This will save you, don’t you get that?”

You shook your head and looked down at the floor, unsure of what to say. 

A.J. stepped towards you and crouched down, taking your hands in his. “You won’t have to be in pain anymore, and we can finally continue our lives together, debt and cancer free. Don’t you want that?”

You furrowed your brows. “Of course I want that,” 

He nodded and laced your fingers together. “Then that’s it,” he stated. “I’m doing this job, and I’m getting you the money that is needed to keep you in my life.”

You wanted to fight him on this some more, but you knew his mind was made up. And it had been since the minute Ghost told him about the plan. 

So, instead of fighting him, you wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his. He stands up with you in his arms, his lips meshing against yours in a needy kiss. “I love you,” you murmur against his mouth. “I love you so much.”

“I love you,” he said back and gently guided you towards the couch, letting his body hover over yours once you landed on the cushion with a soft thud.

-

Part 2

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part twelve: "The Week You Tried to Avoid Matt"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're on your period for the first time in your relationship with Matt and you're uncomfortable being around him and don't want him to know.

Or

You drastically overthink Matt's heightened senses and try to repeatedly avoid seeing him for the entirety of your period week.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 3.8k

a/n: Another fluffy and comedic installment here, might be the last one I manage to get transferred over from AO3 tonight. You can find all of the installments for this series that are currently on tumblr here!

Monday

You held the paper up in your hands, your eyes glued to the headline reading "Entrepreneur Figueroa Arrested for Trafficking Women Through Hell's Kitchen." Your name was in the byline next to an image of a disgruntled Figureroa being seated into the back of a police car, his hands in cuffs behind his back. A small smile slid across your mouth.

A hand on your shoulder caused you to jump in surprise, your head turning to spot Katy beside you. She was grinning and eyeing today's issue of The Bulletin in your hands.

"Good job," she said. "You outed that asshole."

You were really wishing you could have thanked Matt as Daredevil for uncovering the incriminating evidence in the article. He was the one who had truly made this possible. But he refused to let you even so much as hint at his assistance in the article.

"You should go celebrate with your man tonight, if you know what I mean," Katy suggested, waggling her eyebrows at you. 

You rolled your eyes, setting the newspaper onto your desk. "You are way too invested in me sleeping with my boyfriend than is healthy," you pointed out. 

"Well I can't sleep with him," she said, scooping a spoonful of yogurt into her mouth. "Someone needs to make sure he's being properly maintained."

" Katy ," you hissed, eyes darting around the office. 

"What?" she asked innocently.

"We're at work," you whispered harshly. "You can't be saying stuff like that."

"No one cares," she said with a shrug, pointing her spoon at Sabrina a few cubicles over. "She slept with some guy at a bar the other night. Told me the details about it over coffee this morning. And Michael," she continued, pointing her spoon at him as he worked on his computer, oblivious to Katy calling him out, "had a pretty eventful last Thursday night. Did you know that he–"

"Oh my God, please stop," you cut her off, holding up a hand and blushing. "We are not having sex tonight, I got my damn period yesterday morning."

And like hell if you were going to be anywhere near Matt this week while you were bleeding. With his heightened senses? No . He didn't need to be aware of…all of that. 

Though the thought of having to avoid him for a week every single month sounded awful and exhausting.

"You know," Katy said, pointing her yogurt spoon at you, "if you fuck in the shower there's not much mess."

" Katy !" you hissed again. 

"What?" she asked with a shrug. "Just giving you some friendly, womanly advice. Period sex is pretty great."

You threw a hand over your face, shaking your head as your cheeks burned. At least you had seen Matt Saturday night, just before you'd gotten cursed this week. And Matt had told you he was working late on a case tonight because he had court this week, so you didn't need to try too hard to avoid him today like you had yesterday. 

Small mercies.

Tuesday 

Setting your hair brush back onto your dresser, you frowned at yourself in the mirror. One hand reached down and tugged at the too-tight waistband of your dress pants. Period bloat fucking sucked. 

With a sigh you turned towards your bed, slipping on the blazer over your blouse, hoping it helped cover some of the water retention of your stomach. You frowned, glancing down at your abdomen that was twisting with uncomfortable cramps. If only you could stay home from work and curl up on your couch with a heating pad. Why weren't you allotted period days along with sick days?

The sound of your phone ringing on the dresser caught your attention. Heading towards it, you saw Matt's name across the screen. You groaned softly. Normally you loved seeing his name displayed across the screen of your phone whenever he called or texted, but right now you were overly aware of the tampon and thin pad you were wearing. 

"Hey, Matt," you answered the call hesitantly.

"Hey, sweetheart," Matt's cheerful voice came through the line. "I was actually up early this morning and was about to head out and pick up coffee before stopping past the office and heading to the courthouse. I was wondering if you'd like to meet up for a few minutes to grab coffee with me?" he asked, sounding hopeful. "I've missed you since Saturday."

His sweet admission had your heart sinking to your bedroom floor. Why were you cursed with a menstrual cycle and a handsome boyfriend who's sense of smell exceeded that of a German shepherd's?

"I uh, I actually woke up late," you lied, cringing but grateful he couldn't hear your heartbeat over the phone to tell you'd lied. It's not like he'd believe you had a dentist appointment after your first date. "I'm probably going to be sprinting to the office at this rate."

"Oh," he answered softly. "Okay, well, I'll probably be having another late night at the office for this case, but I still want to celebrate with you. For your article on Figueroa. Foggy and I pulled some strings with the DA to fast track his case."

"That's great!" you said. "I can't wait for that asshole to go to prison."

"Me too, sweetheart," he said with a chuckle. "But I'll let you finish getting ready, I don't want to hold you up further. But I do want to celebrate with you this week," he reminded you. 

"Yeah, okay," you answered nervously. "Good luck in court today. Send my luck to Foggy and Karen, too."

"Thanks," he said. "I'll call you later tonight, okay? We can at least chat a bit."

"Sounds good, Matty," you replied.

You both hung up and you groaned loudly. Eyes dropping down to your abdomen, you frowned again. 

"So I'm real grateful you didn’t try to make a baby after the mind-blowing sex the other week," you muttered to your uterus, "but like, fuck you for real."

Wednesday 

Staring at your computer monitor, your eyes zeroed in on the half-finished sentence, drumming your fingers on your desk. You'd been struggling through figuring out how to word the article you were working on for the next issue of The Bulletin for the past hour. You needed a break. 

Eyes darting down to the corner of your monitor, you noticed it was about time for your lunch break. Maybe that would help. 

You sat back in your chair, sliding it back a bit from your desk and running your hands through your hair in frustration. Katy leaned back in the cubicle beside you. One of her hands rose to her head, making it into a gun and pretending to shoot herself in the head with it. You giggled, nodding in solidarity. She was apparently struggling on her piece, too.

Your phone began ringing on your desk, the noise catching your attention. Sliding your chair back into your little cubicle you were surprised to see Matt's name on the screen. He had court today, why was he calling?

"What's up, Matt?" you asked curiously when you answered. 

"Hey, so apparently we are breaking a bit early for a two hour lunch today," Matt said. "You want to join Foggy, Karen, and I for lunch at that diner near your office?"

You absolutely fucking did. That greasy grilled cheese and fries sounded really damn good right about now. 

But you were still on your period. Which in turn meant you were still trying to avoid Matt–and it was feeling shittier and shittier each time you did.

Closing your eyes and rubbing a hand over your forehead, you internally screamed. 

"Actually I'm pushing to get this article done before the deadline this evening. Struggling with writer's block," you told him, not entirely lying. Though lunch with all of them would have been a helpful and welcome distraction. 

"Okay, well would you like me to grab you something and bring it by?" he asked slowly. "I know how much you love their grilled cheese."

Damn this perfect, thoughtful man for being so perfect and thoughtful. 

“I already ordered something,” you blurted quickly, wincing as the lie left you. “A few minutes ago,” you added with a cringe. “Otherwise I’d have loved to take you up on the offer, Matty.”

He cleared his throat on the line and you frowned. Maybe you should just tell him why you were avoiding him this week? Though the thought of actually saying the words, “Hey, Matt, I’m on my period and bleeding from my lady parts this week, don’t want your bloodhound nose getting a whiff of my bloody tampon so I’ll see you next week” had you wanting to crawl under your desk and die.

“Alright…” he said, voice trailing off. “I guess I’ll…maybe see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, definitely,” you said in a rush. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

“Okay, I guess I’ll…talk to you tomorrow then, sweetheart,” he replied, his tone sounding a little unsure. “Good luck finishing your article.”

“Thanks, Matt,” you said. “Good luck finishing up that court case.”

After you both hung up, you screamed into your hands and then opened up your Door Dash app, ordering the grilled cheese you’d rather have sat down and eaten with your friends.

Thursday 

Sitting on your couch, legs crossed on the cushions, you shoveled the fettuccine noodles into your mouth. As a contestant on the episode of Nailed It that you were currently binging on Netflix revealed their cupcake, you lost it on the couch, snorting into your hand and trying not to choke on your mouthful of pasta. The warm bowl resting against your abdomen currently felt like heaven for the cramps that had continued throughout this torturous and terrible week.

You were hoping that by Saturday night your period would have tapered out enough that you could maybe risk seeing Matt. In a public setting. Maybe in an Indian restaurant where the strong and wonderful scent of curry might help mask the scent of period blood. 

So far today you’d yet to hear from Matt other than a few texts telling you their court case was finishing up soon, which had been about a little over an hour ago. You’d carried on making dinner despite the awkward feeling in your gut telling you that you were drastically messing things up.

As you scooped more noodles into your mouth, your phone began ringing on the coffee table. Your eyes immediately darted down to it and then they widened when you saw it was Karen calling you. Curiously, you reached over and grabbed your phone, quickly chewing the mouthful of noodles and pausing the show before answering.

“Hey Karen,” you greeted her cautiously, eyes narrowed and suspicious. 

She said your name excitedly in greeting, your suspicion only increasing.

“So we just got out of the courtroom and we won!” Karen exclaimed.

“That’s great!” you replied. “I know you’ve all been stressing over this case for the past couple of weeks.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “And we were all going to hit up Josie’s tonight to celebrate. And celebrate you and Daredevil getting Figueroa locked up.”

“Oh,” you answered softly.

“So you are avoiding Matt,” Karen stated flatly at your response. “What the hell is up with that?”

“What?” you countered quickly. “I’m–I’m not avoiding him.”

“Relax,” Karen said. “I’m at the office, Matt was finishing up something at the courthouse. I’m far enough away from his bat ears that he can’t eavesdrop on this call. I told him I’d invite you while he finished up with Foggy, but he seemed to think it was futile to try. You want to tell me why he’d say that?”

“I’m on my period,” you blurted.

There was a long silence over the line after your admission.

“Okay?” Karen asked. “And?”

“And that’s it,” you said. “I’m on my period. And Matt has his super senses so, you know, I’m avoiding him.”

“No,” Karen countered, “you have your anxious brain overthinking a situation that doesn’t need to be overthought. Do you plan to avoid him every month for an entire week?”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead,” you admitted sheepishly.

Karen sighed, the sound long and drawn out. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve had my period around Matt at the office? Or Marci when she’s been around him? Or, hell, I’m sure in the over a year you’ve been friends with him, you’ve had your period before.”

“Sure, true,” you agreed. “But now I’m dating him. Spending time alone with him.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Karen pointed out.

“Maybe,” you answered.

“So I take it you’re not going to come out tonight?” she asked. “Marci is even coming out.”

“Just…tell Matt I said congrats on the win,” you told her. “Tell him I wasn’t feeling great and went to bed early.”

Karen sighed again, the sound making your heart sink. “You know he’s been bummed all week not seeing you, right? He thinks he did something wrong.”

That hurt to hear.

“Tell him I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” you said softly.

After you’d hung up with Karen and resumed the show, you no longer found it as amusing as you had a few minutes ago. A sinking feeling felt like it was settling in your gut now, right next to the obnoxious cramps and uncomfortable bloat, as you lamely pushed the noodles around in your bowl.

Friday

Sprawled out on your couch, your legs thrown over the backrest as your hands held the heating pad to your abdomen, you zoned out to an episode of Gilmore Girls. You’d gotten back from a busy day at The Bulletin tonight and quickly changed out of your dress pants, feeling like your bloated stomach was going to explode if you remained in them any longer. You’d instead replaced them with a pair of unflattering but insanely comfortable sweatpants and an oversized tee-shirt before collapsing onto your couch. You figured you’d worry about dinner in a little bit.

This afternoon you had actually been busy with work, but you’d managed to talk to Matt for a bit during your lunch break. He didn’t push when you’d told him you were too busy to meet up and eat together, but he did seem oddly more cheerful than he had the past couple of days when you’d been blowing him off. And while you’d been happy about that, you were suspicious. But as the day had picked up, you’d been too busy to give it much thought, and by the time you’d gotten back home, you were just glad this week was finally over.

You were so comfortable and focused on the television that you at first didn’t realize someone was knocking on your apartment door. But a moment later someone knocked again and you nearly jumped out of your skin on the couch. Who would be at your door right now?

Hesitantly you paused the show, setting the remote onto the coffee table and reluctantly removing the heating pad from your aching, cramp-ridden body. Rising to your feet, you made your way to the door of your apartment, pausing long enough to glance through the peephole. The moment you saw Matt’s face covered by his dark glasses you jumped back, eyes going wide. There was absolutely no way to avoid him now. A moment later he called your name through the door and you internally cursed. He obviously would know you were standing right there.

Slowly you unlocked the door, sliding it open a bit and hiding halfway behind it, as if somehow that piece of wood would block his senses from your body.

“Hey, Matt,” you said nervously.

Immediately he raised a hand up towards you and you noticed the bag he was holding.

“I brought dinner,” Matt said with a smile. “Tacos from that Taco truck we both like.”

“Matt, I–”

“You’re on your period,” Matt cut you off, your eyes widening in absolute mortification. “Karen told me last night. Said that’s why you’ve been avoiding me and my super senses this week.”

“Oh my fucking God ,” you groaned, forehead slamming to the front door you were still clinging to. “What the hell happened to girl code?” you complained against the wood.

“Well considering I thought I’d done something wrong and ruined things with you,” Matt said, his tone softer than usual which caught your attention, “I’m glad she said something. I honestly thought that you were…thinking this whole thing was a mistake between us.”

“ What ?” you asked, jaw dropping.

He shrugged from his place still just outside of your apartment. “I have a tendency to destroy the good things in my life,” he answered quietly.

Your heart felt like it had fallen onto the floor. 

“Shit, no, Matt,” you said, pulling the door open all the way. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I was just…” your voice trailed off, trying to search for a reasonable explanation for the way your brain stupidly worked sometimes.

“Overthinking?” Matt supplied.

“Yeah,” you admitted sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I was really shitty to you this week.”

“I mean it wasn’t great,” he said. “But I get it, knowing how you are and all. Though, sweetheart, you can always talk to me. About anything.”

You shot Matt a pointed look as you asked flatly, “I just spent most of the week avoiding you, do you honestly think I’d straight up tell you I was on my period?”

He cracked a little smile in response. “I suppose not, but for the future–and future periods–you can always talk to me. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable and I certainly don’t want you avoiding me for a week again.”

Your gaze awkwardly dropped down to your feet, chewing the inside of your cheek nervously.

“You’re still uncomfortable aren’t you?” he asked. When you nodded he said your name softly before continuing. “I honestly don’t care. I’ve learned to ignore most bodily functions, they barely register with me unless something actually sounds off. You’ve had your period around me many times before–”

“Not helping,” you cut in.

“–and so have many other women,” he continued, grinning at your interruption. “It doesn’t bother me. At all. What does bother me is my girlfriend feeling like shit and not letting me help make her feel better. So…can I come in now?” He raised his other hand, your eyes darting down to the movement. “I brought you chocolate, too. Mint, because you’re insane and I know you like it so much.”

Throwing the door open wide, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your face into his dress shirt. Matt chuckled, awkwardly trying to hug you back with his hands full.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, pulling back and grabbing the items from his hands. “Come in, I’ll try to stop being an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” he said softly, closing and locking your apartment door behind himself and resting his cane against the wall. “But I hope you stop worrying about that now. Because I don’t want you to hibernate on me next month. Not unless I get to join in on the hibernation.”

You couldn’t fight the smile on your face as you set the bag of food onto your coffee table. “You’re too good to me, Matty,” you mumbled.

“Naw,” he said, shooting you a wink as he took his dark glasses off. “There’s no such thing when it comes to you.”

“You…want a beer?” you asked, blushing lightly as he made his way towards your couch.

“Sure, sweetheart,” he answered.

You headed into the kitchen, grabbing two beers from your fridge and opening them. When you turned and headed back to the living room, you paused, taking in the sight of Matt on your couch, pulling to-go containers out of the bag and setting them along the coffee table. His tie was a little undone and the sleeves on his white dress shirt were rolled up to his forearms as they usually were by the time he’d reached the end of the day. Eventually he stopped what he was doing, his gaze landing near you across the room as his head tilted to the side. A little smile spread on his mouth.

“What’re you doing?” he asked curiously.

Blushing further at being caught staring, you couldn’t fight back the smile curling your own lips upwards. “I like seeing you on my couch,” you admitted softly. “Like you belong here.”

His smile grew a bit more and you watched as he placed the container in his hand onto the coffee table before he moved it beside himself, patting the couch cushion lightly.

“And I think you belong next to me,” he said. “So come over here, sweetheart.”

You bit your lip, still smiling as you crossed the distance and sat down beside Matt. He accepted the beer you handed to him and swiftly held it up.

“To getting Figueroa arrested,” Matt said.

“Cheers to that,” you said, lightly tapping your bottle to Matt’s.

You took a drink before getting comfortable on the couch, reaching out and setting your beer on the coffee table. “Thank you for bringing me dinner, by the way,” you told him.

His shoulder bumped yours lightly. “I told you I was going to celebrate with you this week,” he said. “And after dinner, we can cuddle up on your couch with that heating pad. I can give you a backrub and you can continue watching your girly show where they talk way too fast, but I request that you narrate a bit. Because I enjoy listening to you narrate shows.”

You turned, eyeing Matt beside you as he opened one of the to-go containers. As he picked up a taco, your hand reached out and gently pinched his leg through his dress pants. Matt abruptly paused, the taco hovering in his hands above the coffee table as his gaze briefly dropped down to where you’d pinched him and then slowly shifted towards you. One of his brows raised as he fought back a smile.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“Just making sure you actually exist,” you told him. “Because I feel like my mind did an exceptional job making you up.”

Matt instantly cracked up, losing his composure. “Now that was a terrible line, sweetheart,” he teased. 

“Not a line,” you corrected him quickly, raising a finger. “A genuine fear. Pretty sure you’re just going to disappear one of these days into thin air. And I’ll just be like ‘yeah, I knew he was too good to be real’.” 

He leant over towards you, planting a kiss to your cheek. His mouth was beside your ear a moment later, his voice drawing goosebumps over your arms.

“I’m not planning to disappear on you, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I like you too much.”

Your heart may have slammed a little too hard into your chest at his words.

[the-west-meadow]

greg hirsch with ❛ do you enjoy playing with people’s hearts? ❜ please? <3

here's some quick fun Greg fluff. perfect prompt for him. I hope you enjoy!

Greg Hirsch x Reader

prompt: do you enjoy playing with people's hearts?

Mornings were hectic at your apartment. Greg usually overslept, and relied on you to pound on his door to wake him up. Meanwhile you had already made coffee and were waiting in the kitchen for him to get dressed. 

Greg threw open the door to his room, his tie undone, pulling on one shoe. 

“There’s coffee already? Oh man, you’re the best. My last roommate liked to make breakfast, but it was usually just burnt toast.”

He brushed past you to fill his mug from the French press.

“Top you off?” he said.

“Thanks,” you said, holding out your mug. 

Greg sat atop the stool beside you, hunched over his coffee.

“I always make you late,” he said.

“We’re not late yet.”

“You can leave without me, you know. You don’t have to wait.”

“It’s okay. I like having roommate time together.”

“Me too,” he said. “Do we have time to grab food?”

“I think so. Do you still want to meet up for dinner after work?”

“Definitely.”

“You realize your tie is undone,” you said. 

Before he could respond, you took both ends of his tie and began to tie it for him. Greg stood completely still, hands half raised, watching.

“Oh, that’s- very kind of you,” he stammered. You tightened the knot and smiled.

“Let’s get going. If we’re late with Tom’s breakfast, he’ll flagellate us.”

Greg was at his cubicle when he saw you later that day. You usually worked on the lower floors, with the rest of the ATN crew. It was rare that you made it up to the executive floor on any given day, so he took notice. You were handing out what appeared to be a memo to the executives, greeting them politely as you moved from office to office. 

When you started heading back towards the elevators, he stood up to follow you and say a quick hello. But then he paused. Kendall had stepped out of his office to greet you. Greg slowly sat down, watching the encounter over the top of his cubicle. 

Kendall had his hands in his pockets, an easy smile on his face. Greg was all too familiar with that smile. He felt his stomach sink. Kendall’s laughed said something into your ear. That’s when Greg sank down into his seat and didn’t reemerge.

He was still slouched in his seat like this when Tom found him an hour later.

“What are you doing, slacker?” 

“Oh, you know…”

“You look like you’ve been drained of all your lifeblood.”

“Hey,” Greg said, stirring, “What was Y/N doing up here earlier?”

“Oh, the email server is down so we had to hand out a memo the old fashioned way.”

“Does Y/N know Kendall at all?”

“I don’t think Kendall knows Y/N exists, Greg. Kendall’s range of awareness is very narrow.”

“They were bantering outside his office.”

A smile slid across Tom’s face. “So you were spying on them from your lonely little cubicle and you’ve been crying at your desk ever since?”

“I was definitely not crying.”

“But you were spying.”

“I thought you two lived together. Are you telling me you haven’t been fucking like bunnies in that apartment?”

“We’re just roommates. We have separate rooms.”

“That’s fucking ridiculous, Greg. Why two hot young people should live in such close quarters without fucking is beyond me. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Ashamed? I thought I was doing the righteous thing.”

“You are, Greg, which is why I’m so furious. You’re too pure for this world.”

Tom sighed, shaking his head. 

“I worry about you, Greg.”

“So do I.”

He waited outside for you. The other employees filed out past him, but you didn’t show. He checked his phone. No text. Sighing, he hailed a cab and started back to the apartment alone. 

Greg sat up for a long time reading, the door to his room cracked slightly. This was a signal that you had agreed upon, meaning it was okay to come in and chat. Greg listened for the sound of the front door, but hours passed and still you didn’t show. Finally he turned over on his back with his fingers crossed over his chest. He saw Kendall’s flashy smile, eyes crinkling when you laughed at his jokes. He heard Tom’s voice chastising him. Finally he saw you, standing inches from him only that morning, tying his tie. 

When he woke up in the morning, your door was wide open, the bed untouched. He stumbled into the kitchen, still not dressed, to grind beans for coffee.

He was late.

It wasn't long after work the next day when you finally returned to the apartment. Greg had only recently arrived and collapsed onto his bed. He heard the door open and shot up in bed, listening. Your footsteps stopped outside his slightly open door.

“Greg?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said.

The door creaked open and you stood there in the same clothes you had worn yesterday.

“Are you mad at me?” you said meekly.

“What? No. For what? Come in here.”

You stepped inside, sliding off your shoes, sitting on the edge of his bed. He sat up, crossing his legs. He was still in his work clothes, white Oxford shirt unbuttoned at the chest. 

“I missed dinner,” you said.

“It’s okay. I guess you had other plans.”

“I fucked up,” you said. You turned to face him, one leg hanging off the bed. “I’ve been fucking up for a while.”

“What do you mean?”

“First there was that producer from ATN.”

“Oh, the one with the eyes?”

“Then there was the executive that got fired. And now Kendall.”

You shook your head, still not looking at him. He wanted to reach out, to lift your chin, to look you full in the face. But he didn’t move.

“Well, you’re a very desirable young person.”

You looked up at him, half a grin spreading on your face.

“Why do you say it like you’re my grandpa?”

“Sorry. I’m not trying to be a grandpa. It’s just- you have a lot of suitors.”

“You still sound 18th century.”

Greg cracked a smile, running his hand through his flopping hair.

“I’m sorry. I’m not very smooth.”

“That’s a good thing, Greg. You’re the only one I feel safe with.”

You leaned forward, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. You eased towards him until he could feel your breath on his lips.

“Do you enjoy playing with people’s hearts?” he whispered.

You pulled back swiftly.

“Fuck,” you said. “I’m sorry.” 

You started to get up, but he gently took your hand.

“Stop. It’s okay. I just have a few things to say, if you want to listen.”

You nodded and crossed your legs, facing him. He took a deep breath in and let it out slowly.

“Actually, it’s just one thing: I like you. I have feelings for you. Feelings of a romantic nature.”

“Greg…”

“I don’t mind the other guys. Kendall is great. He’s charming, he’s rich. Two great traits right there. It’s me I’m worried about. How do I stack up against them? I’m broke, I take the subway to work, I never wake up on time. So I sort of resigned myself so just being your roommate. Your friend.”

“I’m glad you’re my friend, Greg.”

“Me too.”

“Good. Roommates, then?”

“Roommates.”

His blue eyes flickered up to meet yours, and in an instant you were on top of him. His head sank into the pillow as you straddled him, running your hands through his hair. His hands were all over you, feeling every inch of the person he never thought he would have. You unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, sliding your hands beneath the undershirt he wore. He sat up, pulling it off swiftly. You lunged towards him once more.

“Wait, wait,” he whispered, putting his hands on your shoulders. You sat panting, gazing at each other. 

“Are we doing this?” he breathed. 

“Do you want to?”

“Well, why should two hot young people should live in such close quarters without fucking?”

A grin spread across your face. Bringing your hands to his hair, you kissed him again, slowly this time. He sank back on the bed, flicking off the lamp as he went.

The next morning, you emerged from a cab together outside of the Waystar office. Greg strode beside you in his wayfarer sunglasses, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and your hand in the other. You glanced at him and smiled, squeezing his hand.

Kendall stepped out the door as you approached the building. He took one look at you and Greg, and a quiet smile came over his face. 

“Morning, kids,” he said. You thought you saw him wink behind his sunglasses. He kept walking. 

Greg glanced over his shoulder, then leaned down to kiss you swiftly on the lips. 

“And we’re not even late,” he murmured. 

[mr-bas00nist]

Take It All: Pt. 2

A/n: This is from my old account and was also a request! @justice-maul. They asked me if I could make a part 2 so here we are. Pt.1

Cw- Rough sex, anal, multiple orgasms, humiliation, degradation, raw sex, masochism and no protection

Ever since your little encounter with Bateman he’s been oddly….nice? He wouldn’t boss you around as much and he didn’t even treat you like an assistant. He treated you like a friend, not that you’d ever want to be affiliated with a man like that but still….. it was strange and you had no idea why he changed. You fucked his face and degraded him like the trash he was yet he’s crawling back to you like your a god….

You were currently in the kitchen of the office getting a cup of coffee for yourself when you sense a presence. You felt a pair of eyes staring at you. You already knew who it was so you didn’t bother to turn around. You continue to pour the coffee into the porcelain mug grabbing the creamer. You than heard quiet footsteps and you felt someone’s breath on your back. You shivered at the feeling.

You than felt someone begin to grab your hips and that’s when you cut it off. You slap his hands away glaring at him. “Who the fuck do you think you are?!” You shout angrily. He doesn’t respond he only continues staring. “What’s your major malfunction Bateman?” You glare at him as you look him up and down. You scowl pushing him away as you walk back to your office.

He looks at himself in the mirror wondering what was wrong with him? Why was he so enamored with you that he follows your around like a lost puppy? It was stupid, sickening that THE Patrick Bateman was following some lowlife around his office. What was going on with him? Why was he doing this? Why are you so fucking hot for gods sake?!

You sit in your office looking at your computer with a dead look on your face. You had way to much too do. You sigh heavily as stand up to go get stuff from the printer. You make sure everything was printed correctly before sitting back down and continuing to fill it out work. Bateman was currently in a meeting watching you from afar thanks to the giant glass panels in the conference room.

The other nimwits in the room were talking about beers and other stupid shit. He didn’t care for them, at all. Their company was sickening to deal with and the atmosphere in the room was similar to a bunch of drunk alcoholic uncles. He wished he was with you, sitting with you, talking with you. He longed for it but knew he had to get this meeting done as much as he didn’t want too.

Later that night you were still in your small cubicle finishing up your work while chugging coffee and energy drinks down (and you wonder why you’re sleep schedules fucked 🤨).

You sigh heavily as you finally make it to the last assignment, it was a self assessment so you could get it done really fast.

You than hear tapping across the hard wooden floors. The sound of familiar dress shoes tapping across the ground making it known someone was coming closer towards you, and you had a good idea about who it was. You don’t even have to turn your head to know that it’s your boss. You sigh annoyed simply continuing your work.

“Y/n.” He speaks in that monotone voice you despise. “What?” You spit out with venom lacing your tone. “How come your here so late?” He asks curiously. “Because you’ve been flooding me with work because your lazy ass can’t do shit.” You speak taking another sip of your coffee. He hums in acknowledgement.

He watches your nimble fingers type quickly across the keyboard as your eyes squint with focus. “Why have you been following me for the past few days?” You ask turning your chair to face him. He’s taken aback by your question but decides to answer. “I’ve been thinking about the, session we had at the bar.” He speaks a light blush dusting his face.

You nod as you submit your last assignment before standing up and looking at him in the eyes. “And?” You click your tongue with an amused look. “I’ve been thinking about other things you could do.” As calm as he thought he looked you could smell the longing and desperation for you on him. You smirk as you move closer to him so that your noses are almost touching.

“You know Bateman, I’ve been real stressed this week,” You watch how his lips tighten at this comment. “Since you want something different how about you help me relieve some stress.” He nods eagerly as you grin. “Wonderful.” You grab him by his hair pushing him onto the desk as he groans. “Disgusting fucking whore.” You grimace.

You grab his hips as you begin to speak, “Take your pants off.” He quickly begins to unbuckle his belt toying with the buckle a bit. He pulls them down leaving him in just his boxers. You look at him with hungry eyes. You couldn’t stand his personality but his body was something to be proud of. You pull his pants down watching as he jolts at the feeling of cold air.

You keep his head shoved in the desk pushing a little harder than you usually do in intimate situations. He wasn’t complaining though. You quickly take your cock out giving it a few pumps. “You don’t seem like the type to want it gentle,” You grip his ass roughly. “That time you were sucking me off is proof.” You lick your lips as you rub it up against his hole. “W-wait.”

He speaks as he feels the head of your dick at his entrance. You don’t listen as you shove yourself in him. He cries out as you groan in unison at the feeling. You continue pushing shoving yourself in with every inch of strength you’ve got. His legs shake as he grips onto the desk with all his might trying not to collapse. You bottom out in him for a few moments stretching him out.

You slowly begin thrusting as he groans. “Fuck… so tight.” You place your hand on your hip and the other one on his as you begin thrusting faster and faster. His moans grow in volume as he begins to twitch. “You gonna cum already Bateman?” You tease. He nods vigorously as he continues moaning. “Alright, but I’m not stopping.” You continue thrusting with a brutal pace as he cums with a drawn out moan.

Just as you said, you didn’t plan on stopping. You pushed his head farther into the wooden desk, his grip around your dick got even tighter igniting a new spark in you to go even harder. You continue to thrust even harder making his moans increase. “Fuck if you keep squeezing me like that I’m gonna cum.” You laugh breathlessly pulling his hips back into you.

After a short amount of time you begin to reach your high. “I-I can f-feel you…” He moans. You hum in acknowledgment. “In or out?” You ask curiously, getting closer and closer. He thinks for a moment before speaking, “In, please.” You nod thrusting as fast as you can hitting his prostate every time.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum, gonna cum so fucking deep inside you.” You speak while moaning. He continues to moan and whimper beneath you. “You ready? Ready to get filled like the whore you are?” You don’t await and answer. With a few more thrusts Bateman cums with another moan. He tightens around you sending you over the edge with a loud moan from yourself.

You stay in him for a few second before pulling out watching as your cum drips out of him. You sigh putting your dick back in your pants picking up your suitcase. You look at Bateman watching him hyperventilate on your desk. You smirk blowing him a kiss.

“See you tomorrow sir.” You wave as you walk down the stairs. He couldn’t wait.

[totally-not-a-cannibal-hannibal]

To My Taste

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Part 1: Small Potatoes

⚠️Warnings⚠️: Murder, mention of rape. For this part there is talk of bodies. It's nothing too gory if you can stomach the show this part should be fine.

        All I could hear was the sound of my heels clanking against the linoleum floors of the office building.  I was incredibly late. Jack would have my ass for it this time. It really wasn't my fault, I'm still not used to how heavy traffic can get downtown. As I reached the right floor I saw the team's heads bobbing above the cubicles so I slowed down and crouched. Maybe I can just blend in with the group and Jack won't notice that I came in late.

        I sneak behind Price and Zeller to make my way over to Will. He normally didn't say anything when I was late. I stood up next to him as if I had been there the whole time. Beverly smirked at me from across the room. She tapped her watch and pointed down to the body. 

        It sounded callus but it hardly noticed her when I was on my mission to not be seen. Jack was speaking with a tall, well dressed man who must  be Dr. Lecter. This was probably what saved me from being spotted when I entered. Will handed me the file. 

        "Foot got stuck in a storm drain again?" He whispered. 

        "No, I was caught in traffic." He let out the smallest chuckle. Jack looked over at the two of us with a raised eyebrow. 

       "Is something funny? We got a third dead girl in a month and we have nothing. I don't find it very funny, Will." Will lowered his head and scratched his nose. Clearly feeling a bit embarrassed. "And don't think I missed you coming in late again Lydia." He said as he pointed his finger at me. 

      "There was stop and go traffic, I'm really sorry." 

       "I don't care if the earth opens up and swallows the road. If you are late one more time your ass is out of here." He said as he put his glasses on to read something Zeller handed him. 

       "Yes sir." I say, it being my turn to look down at the floor now. After the tongue lashing I crouch down next to the body. Just like the ones before her she was in her early thirties, white, some shade of blonde, around 120 lbs and shorter than 5'5. She worked a white collar job pretty high up in her industry. And just like all the others she was stabbed, raped then murder. It was a little tough to stomach for me, this group has seen stuff that can only be described as the 10th circle of hell so a simple rape and murder serial killer was probably like a vacation. 

       I pulled on a pair of gloves and started looking around her body. My job was always simpler when it came to a serial killer like this. I was a victimologist so normally I'd be looking for what made the killer pick these victims in particular. The motive seemed simple enough, sexual sadist who has a type. Perhaps some past trauma with a blonde woman, probably an ex or a mother.

       Beverly helped me move her to her side so I could see under. 

      "Kinda creepy huh?" Bev asked, looking at me in particular. 

       "Yeah bodies always give me the creeps, I don't want to meet the person who isn't creeped out by a corpse I guess." Stab marks could be seen on the linoleum under her. He was using a huge knife and must be really mad. 

        "No, I mean how much she looks like you." Bev says as someone comes over to take a picture of the stab marks. We set her back down and take off our gloves. She did look kinda like me but not enough to cause alarm or at least I thought. 

        "Bev she's literally just another strawberry blonde lady." I say dismissively. 

        "Will thinks so too." She says as she nudges him. He was doing that thing he does where he sweats and gets a 30-yard stare. 

       "Leave him alone, he's doing his Nancy Drew thing." 

        "I don't remember reading this part in Nancy Drew." Bev says as she motions to the body. I grin agreeing. 

       The whole time I felt eyes on me. At first I thought it was Jack, keeping a very close watch but he was yelling at Price for something. The feeling only got stronger as we cleaned up to leave. Eventually I turn around and see Dr. Lecter looking at me. Once I noticed him he started to walk over.

       "Hello Agent Trew, I didn't have a chance to introduce myself formally. I'm Dr. Lecter." He says as he holds out his hand. 

        "Oh hi! Yeah I know who you are, Will and Jack mentioned you." I say as I take his hand to shake. He seemed so polite, so civil. I couldn't see why Will wasn't fond of him.

      Will snapped out of his episode and walked over to us. 

        "Speak of the devil, hello Will. Are we still on for tomorrow?" Hannibal asks Will who looks a bit disheveled. He looked almost out of breath. Whatever he did must be hard on him. 

         "Yes. Excuse me." Will says as he squeezes between us to get to the exit. 

         "That's right, you are his therapist?" I ask finding it a little odd a therapist would see someone from the team he was also being a consultant on. 

       "Yes, Jack thinks I can help Will process his feelings towards the Job." Dr. Lecter explains as we walk down the stairs with the group. 

       "Well that's good, we all need someone to talk to I suppose. Will seems like a good guy. You guys get along?" I say probing for a little more info. It was a bad habit of mine, I could be so nosy.

         "But of course, we have a good working relationship. Why wouldn't we get along?" He asked as he held the door open for the majority of the crew exiting the building. I stood at the other door taking his lead, opening the other swinging door. 

         "I didn't mean anything by it. I'm sorry, I'm just trying to get a feel for everyone still." In truth I was getting a bit suspicious. Will was an odd guy sure but he didn't seem to outwardly dislike someone for no reason. Why on earth wouldn't he be friendly with Dr. Lecter who by all accounts seems perfectly charming. 

        "Of course no offense taken. You just started, correct?"

        "Yes siree, got a laminated badge and everything. This is my first case ever actually." I say with an air of pride. I worked hard to get into college early. I have always known I wanted to be here even at a young age. 

        "Well I'm sorry you had to be christened with such a grizzly case." He said as we walked to the parking lot. I hadn't expected the conversation to last so long he was just so easy to talk to. 

         "Oh not at all, I have seen some old case files this group has solved. This is small potatoes, we just need one crack to break the whole dam on this case." The guy had an uncanny ability to leave no trace. He bleached the women's insides and panties post mortem to get rid of any DNA. He was a ghost but I had no doubt we'd get him. 

         He gave me a strange look. His face is so hard to read normally I can tell in an instant what someone is thinking but Dr. Lecter was unreadable. 

        "Small potatoes." He repeats back to me. It dawned on me how horrible that sounded. 

        "Oh my gosh, not that these women are- were small potatoes. That sounded bad. I just meant this isn't as gnarly as like what the Chesapeake Ripper does." I say practically stumbling over myself trying not to sound like a monster. He nods and gives me a soft grin. 

         "I understand what you mean. I just thought the expression was interesting." He seemed to get a small amount of amusement out of my desperate attempt not to not be perceived as some kind of weirdo. 

         I got in my car to go back to the headquarters with everyone else. I was so embarrassed I didn't even properly say goodbye to Dr. Lecter who seemed to have carpooled with Jack. As if Jack didn't have enough reason to fire me now I've gone and sounded like a total jerk to his favorite person. 

          Maybe Dr. Lecter wouldn't mention anything, he's foreign.  There's a chance he just thought the saying was funny. I was sure I was overthinking it at this point. It was said and done, no taking it back so there is no reason to dwell on it still. If only that worked to tell yourself.

         The rest of the day was full of theory building and chasing whatever small leads we had. So far this guy could be half the men in Virginia. Frankly we are not even sure if it's a man yet. All we know they are strong, strong enough to stab through a body hard enough to leave chips in the ground below. We have a bruise in the shape of a large hand around one's neck and another on a different girl's hips but aside from that we have nothing. 

         Jack was torn whether or not to alert the public. It's always a tough call; you could risk spooking the killer or agitating them. Unfortunately the media got hold of the story before it could be squashed. It was a shit show.

          It was getting late and Will and I were staying behind to bounce some ideas off each other. Unfortunately my bad habit reared it's ugly head. I had to ask about him and the good doctor.

       "So what's the deal with you and Dr. Lecter? You act like you can't stand the guy." I say as I tack some evidence to the board. 

        Will doesn't answer me at first, his nose buried in a file. "Will?" 

        "I don't get along with psychiatrists. I don't like to be psychoanalyzed." He says not looking up from the papers. 

         "Oh I see." He was an interesting one. Maybe he has a thing about psychiatrists like I do with dentists. Will didn't seem like the type to have an irrational hatred of someone for their career choice but I suppose I haven't known him for very long at all. 

         "You want the rest of my sandwich?" He asks, still not looking up from the file. It was a turkey and cheese cold sandwich from the vending machine. My upper lip curls in disgust but I didn't want to be rude.

         "Oh no thank you I'm full." I say, still working on the board. Finally Will's eyes are pulled from his work to take in the site of the whole board. He shifts in his seat and gets an uneasy look on his face. He kept looking back to me then to the board. 

          "Beverly might have been right… You look like they belong on that board with them." I knew he didn't mean for that to sound so intimidating but it still made my skin crawl the way he spoke, his eyes grazing over me. He clicked his pen over and over as he thought. 

         "Do you know how many blondes are in this city? He's not even picky about the shade. We have a dishwater blonde, bottle blonde, strawberry blonde. Maybe he's a collector. He's not going to be looking for another strawberry blonde Will."

         "It's more than hair though. Your faces, jobs, ages. You all could have been friends. All the victims grew up in Virginia, just like you right?" He asked as he stood up. His tone changed and I couldn't place what it reminded me of.

       "Yeah in the southern part." I specify. He turned me by my shoulders to face him. 

       "You're what 5'3?"

       "And a half." I say with a grin. He didn't return the favor. He was working at something. He took the pen and held it above his head like he was going to stab it down at me. I stood there letting him do his mime show. I would have thought it was funny if he didn't have such a dark look in his eyes. 

        "He stabbed the first victim before she was on the ground. All the others he took to the ground then stabbed." He was starting to sweat again. I leaned past him to check the board if he was correct but he pushed me back in place. It wasn't forceful per se, it was almost like he was setting a cup back on a table that had fallen off. 

        "Get on your back." It wasn't a request. I laughed at him. 

        "Will, I'm in $120 dry clean only, Pants from Anne Taylor. You have lost your damn mind if you think my ass is getting on that dirty floor." His face didn't change. He looked like he does when he zones out at crime scenes. I take a step back from him. There wasn't something quite right with how he was looking at me. Honestly I wasn't sure if he was even looking at me; it was like his eyes were looking right through me. "Will…" I said as I snapped in his face. The light came back on behind his eyes and he looked at me confused. 

        "What's wrong, I was reenacting the first murder. You have done a reenactment right?" He said softly as he swallowed hard, he wiped the sweat off his brow. His body language didn't match his calm voice. 

        "The reenactment is useless, you are nowhere near this guy's height." I said as I took the pen from his hand. I brushed it off. He was just an odd guy, who took his job very seriously as we all should in this line of work. 

         "Ouch, I'm above average I'll have you know." He says with a grin as he leans against the table. I was gathering up the files and organizing them for tomorrow. 

       "You live alone?" He asks as he hands me an envelope.

        "Yep, just me and my love birds, Ricky and Lucy." He chuckles a bit. 

         "Why don't I drive you home. You can leave your car in the parking lot for the night. I'll pick you up in the morning. We could even grab breakfast." He suggests as he helps me carry the boxes of files to a cabinet. I roll my eyes and smirk. 

         "Oh is this a come on Agent Graham?" He laughed and held the door open for me as he made our way to the dark dank parking garage. 

         "No no nothing like that I promise. You just fit this guy's type so I want to make sure he doesn't get a 4th victim. The time between the murders is only getting shorter." He walked me to my car and opened the back door to make sure no one was hiding. 

        "I appreciate it Will I really do but I'm pretty sure he's a collector. He is not looking for another strawberry blonde. If he sticks to his accelerating timeline we have at least a day or two before starts his hunt again. I'll be fine." Will begrudgingly let me drive home alone. 

         My house was a small yellow one bedroom home I was renting from a sweet old lady who lived down the lane. It fitted my needs perfectly, I even had a view of a small lake from my bedroom window.  

          It was a warm night for September. I got in and opened my windows to save money on the power bill. My love birds were happy to see me. I fed them then myself. I hadn't had time to hook up my cable so I just watched them preen each other lovingly. I have always liked birds, my mother would tell me drunkenly about how birds are our dead loved ones watching over us. I hope that wasn't the case because I will often change in my living room. 

          They were very considerate birds and normally slept through the night so I never had to put a sheet over them. I filled their water before closing up the cage for the night. A nice cool bath sounded really good so I drew a bath for myself.

         Beverly and Will had gotten to me a bit. I kept my service weapon on the edge of the tub while I bathed. Will has a seemingly supernatural connection with the killer's they hunt so maybe I should take more stock in his worries. 

          I finished my bath and wrapped myself in a towel. I was in my own head now and took my gun with me to close all my windows and make sure my door was locked. Once I was sure my home was as secure as it possibly could be I got changed. It was going to get unbearably hot tonight with the windows closed so I elected to wear underwear and a tank top. If I was sure the nice old landlady wouldn't let herself in if I didn't answer at the first knock, I would have just slept naked.

          I laid my gun on the bedside table and tucked my phone under my pillow, a habit I kept from my college years. I got comfortable and found it surprisingly easy to sleep in the heat. 

         A sound from my living room woke me up. It was the sound of my love bird's cage rattling softly. It wasn't uncommon for them to have a small lovers quarrel in the middle of the night so I didn't bother checking on them. It wasn't till I heard one start to chirp that I sat up. They only sing in the morning or at a person. That's when it hit me. I got up and went to grab my gun to investigate. To my horror I couldn't find it. I knew I had put it arm's length away but it was gone without a trace. 

        My stomach sank as I heard a snapping sound just as the love song stopped. 

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

Curiosity Part 2

Summary: Reader finally runs into Colby again but things quickly take a shocking turn.

TW/CW: Mafia/Vampire!Colby Brock x Reader, a man gets shot, Colby reveals his fangs, Reader is held at knife point.

Requested?: No

A/N: I'm not sure how I feel about this one tbh.

Part 1

(Y/N)'s POV

I had spent the past week since my late-night adventure unable to stop replaying the encounter. Specifically everything about Colby. The man wouldn’t leave me alone, constantly being in my thoughts and dreams. Part of me wonders if by some miracle he was doing it on purpose. I attempt to shake my head clear as I enter the office building in which I work. I have said nothing about the night to anyone. Sometimes I catch myself wondering if it was actually real or just a weirdly vivid dream.

I trudge through the first half of my work day and when it’s finally time for lunch I make my way to the break room for my food. I avoid eye contact with anyone around and only speak when spoken to to not seem completely off my rocker. I plop back down at my desk to poke and nibble at my food but am soon lost in thought, staring at the small fan perched on the edge of my desk.

After I’m not sure how long, a hand breaks my eye contact with my fan making me drop my fork into my still mostly full bowl. I look up at my coworker and best friend with confusion written across my face.

She chuckles, “You good (Y/N/N)? You’ve been really off all week.”

I shove the thoughts of Mr. Mysterious out of my head and nod, “Yeah, just haven’t been sleeping well.”

She tilts her head, “Are you sure? Seems a bit more than sleep deprivation. Kind of feels like your mind is just somewhere else.” I shrug, knowing I’m caught but hoping to avoid explaining myself. She doesn’t seem to accept my answer as she pulls up a chair beside me. She pats my shoulder gently, “Do you wanna talk about it? You know it’ll stay between us.”

The problem here is I really do want to talk about it but I don’t want to worry anyone or sound crazy. I decide to dance around the bush, “I may have met a guy.”

She slaps my arm, “No way! Who? Do I know him? What’s he like?-”

I halt her barrage of questions by placing my hand over her mouth, “Shhhh! It’s not like I want the entire office to know!”

She composes herself before whispering, “Sorry, sorry. Go on.”

“Well, he’s the mysterious type. Talk, dark, and handsome ya know?” I explain. She nods, encouraging me to go on so I do, “I don’t know I just can’t get him out of my head.”

A grin stretches across her face, “Ohhhh fun. When are you seeing him again?”

I think for a moment before shrugging, “I’m not.”

“What do you mean you’re not?” She inquires in shock, “If you can’t get this man out of your head then you obviously need to see him again.”

“I don’t know… I just… Something just feels strange about it,” I stumble out.

“If you don’t see him again, I’ll never let you live it down,” she declares before noticing the clock shows lunchtime is over, “Welp, keep me updated.” She gets up from her chair and wanders off, grinning at me over her shoulder before disappearing behind the cubicles. I take my lunch back to the break room fridge, thoughts quickly slipping back to Colby.

Finally, the work day ends and I make my way back to my apartment. Even as I go about my evening routine and get ready for bed I can’t help but wonder if my friend was right. Maybe I should go see him.

Colby’s POV

Sitting here, deep in thought at the bar there’s only one thing on my mind, (Y/N). All week she has had me distracted. I don’t bother to look away from my glass as someone enters the room. The chair to my right slides out before being filled. Clearing his throat, Sam speaks up, “Whatcha thinkin’ about man?” My only response is a shrug. “It’s her isn’t it?” He inquires. Again, I simply shrug. Sam claps a hand on my shoulder, “I’m telling you, bro. She’ll find her way back.” He orders a drink before suggesting, “Or maybe you go looking for her?”

I shake my head, “Wouldn’t know where to start.”

“With this,” Sam replies, sliding a slip of paper in between me and my glass.

My eyes drift down out of curiosity and find a receipt for a gas station not too far from here. “Where’d you get this?” I ask as I scan over the purchased items.

“She dropped it on her way in,” Sam answers, “I figure maybe she frequents there and if so, maybe you can catch her.”

Jake stretches and sits up on the nearby couch, “Or you could always stalk her Instagram like I did.” My head snaps up as he shuffles over showing me his phone. There she is. Somehow this goofy fucker found her. I look up at him in confusion. He shrugs, “Figured there couldn’t be too many in the city by her name,” he takes the seat to my left, “I was wrong… but I finally found her while you were over here in your sulk fest.”

I take Jake’s phone from him and scroll through it briefly before handing it back to him. I take a deep breath looking up at the clock, it’s late but worth a shot. I down the rest of my drink before scooting away from the bar and exiting the building. I need to find her, there’s just something strange about her that I can’t let go of.

(Y/N)’s POV

I toss and turn for hours after going to bed. Finally, I toss the covers off of me as I decide to make a gas station run for snacks. I guess I’ll just follow my new routine of snacking all night while I stare zombie-like at the TV screen. Slipping into my sneakers and shrugging on a jacket, I make sure to grab my keys on the way out. The walk to the gas station is quick and soon I’m heading back to my warm, humble abode.

Since I got so many snacks and drinks this time, I decided to throw my hood up and take a shortcut through an alley way. However, I soon find that to be a terrible idea as a man steps out of the shadows in front of me. I look up half expecting it to be Colby or maybe even Sam but the man before me is nowhere near the oddly comforting duo. This man looks like he’s seen some shit and quickly spits out, “Drop your shit, cutie, and give me your wallet while you’re at it.” I attempt to sidestep him but he blocks my way and holds a knife to my throat.

Colby’s POV

During my wandering around the area surrounding the gas station, I began to get more and more disappointed. That is until I saw her. My heart skipped a beat and I a smile etched its way across my face. There she was. I followed close behind, too nervous to actually call out to her. What if she thought I was a creep for looking for her? To be fair, I guess I am a creep considering where I am now. I watched as she entered the gas station and after some time returned with several bags. I almost reached out to her then, I wanted to offer to carry her bags and escort her home. Still, I stayed in the shadows. Perhaps, if I had stepped out and helped her then she wouldn't have walked right into a man I knew was dangerous. He ran with the Red Gang. He was a lacky but I’d seen him out and about.

My stomach drops as I notice him pull a knife from his pocket before placing it to her throat to stop her from sidestepping him. I don’t think this time, only act. In a flash, I pin the man against the wall by his throat, baring my fangs at him. He immediately cowers before me, “I-I’m sorry, Mr. Brock. If I had known she was with you-“ His words halt as I squeeze tighter.

Behind me (Y/N) speaks up, “Colby, don’t. Let’s just go.”

I look down, concealing my fangs and eyes before looking over my shoulder at her, “You okay?” She nods. I look back at the man in my grasp and decide it’s better to not start a turf war right now. I release him and turn to (Y/N) offering my hand, “Let me carry some of those for you.”

(Y/N)’s POV

Gratefully I look down and begin untangling some bags to hand off to Colby. As I return my gaze to him I notice the stranger raise his knife and aim it at Colby's back. Before I can speak up to warn him, the stranger lies dead, a red dot on his forehead where the bullet entered to end his life. Colby looks up in the direction the dot is coming from with a disappointed look on his face. I follow his gaze and spot Jake who waves with a smile upon making eye contact with me. I look back at Colby with shock on my features. Colby doesn’t look at me, only clenches his jaw before commanding, “Get down here,” not directed at me but at Jake.

In the blink of an eye, Jake is at our side, “You know I’m not gonna let you waltz into enemy territory alone, Boss. Always gotcha back.”

Colby purses his lips into a scowl before removing all of the bags from my hands and shoving them at Jake, “Back to the bar.”

Before I can even take a breath, I am standing in the middle of the bar in which I had originally met Colby, unable to even think straight.

Masterlist

More Colby Brock Imagines

[booksandchainmail]

Pale 9.5

“You’re more opinionated than you were for a lot of the Blue Heron stuff.  We should talk to the Others?  Get that help?”

I think this is a setting thing. Snowdrop was very out of her element in a practitioner school environment, where the assumption was that Other were secondary to the human students, not independent actors. Back in Kennet, Snowdrop not only has more agency, but also friends and a place in the world outside of the girls

On the top of the streetlight was a woman, hair white, back ramrod straight, head, neck, and arms the only skin that was visible with everything else she was wearing, her skin with all the colors of a sunset at the edge of becoming evening.

Crooked Rook! Eager to meet her, though "let's spy on the meeting" is maybe not the best first impression

“You need to tell us about these feelings, Ken,” Edith said. “I’m not the kind of guy who complains about every ache, pain, and strange sensation. Trust me, if I did, you’d never hear the end of it.”

not the time for the town of Kennet to try and be all toughguy!

The Monty security camera followed their movements, the lens replaced with a crimson eye that drooled blood from the gaps where it didn’t quite fit into the rectangular aperture.  A jagged, vein-draped leg raised and waved.

I like how a lot of their techniques are basically from a horror movie

“What’s this noise!?” a man shouted. The goblin on Verona’s shoulder ducked behind her hair.  Others didn’t try so hard to hide.

Is the plan just to hit him with Jabber so he won't remember them later? Hardly discreet, but at least it will cover identities. And I'm assuming the girls are wearing their masks.

And the people.  Which might include the Others.  Roughly sixteen officers smiled in strained ways and turned their heads to track Jabber. 

some quick googling says that for 5,000 people (Kennet population), Canada has around 10 cops. That data was from 2017, so maybe a couple more would have been added, but still. 16 in the precinct at one time, they are calling in heavy resources.

Verona wasn’t sure how she felt.  More and more, she was getting the impression she was naturally packing away all the emotion to digest for later  Or so she could have a surprise blow-up where it all came out at once, depending.

good to see Verona's recognized this about herself

“What the hell?” Verona asked.  “He’s not an Other anymore?”

possession of some kind?

But why the bridge of the nose, why hands, why wrist?  It was a weird assortment.

and also apparently the chest. My first thought was the key points diagrammed in 8.2 extra (brow and heart, ie awareness and health), but that wouldn't explain hands or wrists. Maybe a puppet thing? Metaphorical wires cutting up the wrists? Maybe the nose is an ingress point? Or egress.

“Malfaca, calfaca!” Jabber cheered, arms thrust over his head.

ok, the things Jabber is saying definitely have meaning. I had been wondering that from "Quororum" earlier. "Malfaca" is pretty close to malfacais (portugueuse), or from latin "mal facere", both meaning "to do bad". Don't know if calfaca is just riffing on the sound or if it has another meaning. Maybe from calo (to loosen) or calens (hot)? And quororum sounds like a twist on quorum

The entire feeling of the room changed as Jabber fell over. No more strained laughing, no more choked giggles.

well fuck. Hopefully if they get him going again quickly everyone will forget?

Her hands became normal as those scars joined the scribble-like mass.  It moved like an insect, darting across the floor on legs made of scars, slipping into a gap between computer and cubicle.

kinda reminds me of montague

Verona leaned further into the corner as two officers found their feet and walked by, talking. “Ughh. I’m too tired for this. What were we talking about?”

looks like aftereffects from Jabber keep them from questioning why they were laughing/falling over/pissing themselves.

The meaty red stuff inside that youth resembled Edith’s. Frankensteined together. The oldest person who’d been on that bench, with badly cut blond hair and sunglasses pushed up to the hairline. Verona could hear the parasite moving around the cubicle.  She put distance between herself and it. Two different kinds of Other.

That complex spirit did a good job of staying hidden

Backing right up into the clutches of the third.  A big cop who had her in a headlock.

HOW MANY OF THESE GUYS ARE THERE

Lucy fought and struggled where she could, but most of her focus was on alleviating the stress on her neck.

I hope this doesn't put strain on Lucy's choice not to carry more knives

There was a noise to Verona’s right.  She readied another chalk strike.  Except it was Biscuit, very interested in McKay now.

If this doppelganger works mainly through substance abuse problems, that's an overlap with Tod work. I wonder how he gets the drugs to begin with? Or if he's acquired his original's issues, he might be a fit for a Barney.

She threw a spell card instead. The flash illuminated the room, bright and blinding. Right in the woman’s face. And Avery was there, stepping out from a cubicle door, tackling the woman a few paces away from Jabber, black rope around her hand.

teamwork! The black rope is really useful for Avery to be a free roaming flanker, all the others have to do is disrupt vision and she can pop up our of nowhere as reinforcements

“It’s a collection of traits,” Verona said.  “Scars all across the hands, a fancy watch, something wrong with the nose, something at the upper chest.” “A tattoo,” Avery said. “I saw. It peeled away from her collarbone.”

oh that's neat. I wonder how someone like that gets started? Seems specific enough that I think it had a single person as an origin, rather than a pattern. Maybe starting out as a practitioner making a copy of themself to carry out a task, which fades after completing it but maintains enough self to keep these signifiers?

“Looking at her cleavage, Ave?” Verona asked, standing on the spot, slowly turning.

lol

Lucy hesitated, then pulled out the watch they’d taken from the Transient camp.  She slapped it onto her wrist.

coincidence, or was it meant as protection against this Other?

John had a bit of Alexander’s eyes, now, maybe.  He got something from everyone he killed.  Clear sight, even in conditions like that.  It made sense.

huh, I'd forgotten that

“I order you to be bound, then, my first declaration,” Lucy told him.  They were heavy words.  “I really wish you’d cooperated.”

I think this is the first time the girls have bound an Other.

“Intruder of this town, coward, you ran and hid because you knew you had no right to be here.  In the name of Kennet, as Kennet’s practitioner, for the third time, I order you bound.”

I do love the phrasing used in the practice

“Peyton.  Friend of Gabe.”

oh, the younger girl he had a weird thing about. Hope she's doing ok.

Juvenile file.  Incidents… every three days.  Same group of kids.  Same charges of loitering, causing a commotion, light vandalism…

Influence from the Carmine Beast? Or something more involved? The vandalism makes me think they could be trying diagrams

Peyton shook her head.  “I don’t remember.  How embarrassing is that?  It was a bit weird, that they wanted to hang out with someone young like me, but kinda cool too?  But we keep getting into trouble and I keep telling myself I should stop spending time with them.”

that's bad! Others trying to make her become Other? Or just feeding off her in some way. Reminds me a bit of what happened to Clem as a kid. McKay said "Body thieves, life thieves", which maps to the parasite and to the cop, but I don't know where the youth falls.

“There’s a reason they had Charles tell us what the barrier does,” Lucy said, watching.  “So he could leave stuff out.”

oooh. If she's waiting until Montague's hour to talk, I'm guessing surveillance? And if so is that new, because if there was surveillance from the beginning that makes me suspicious that we haven't heard about it picking up the Carmine Beast's murder.

“There are other functions. Not fully intact, but they can fix that or put power into that. Maybe Montague could make it happen. Shutting off the natural of spirits and things within Kennet. It would limit our practice pretty badly.”

or that. Being able to shut off the girls at any point is tricky. Especially because I don't think that would impact most Others.

“She- it was a woman, it might have been Edith, but Lis’s voice sounds like hers sometimes, and Maricica can be tricky, and I don’t know… She also said that they don’t need to worry about us in the long term,” Lucy said, watching the spectacle, while Avery ignored it and watched Lucy. She changed the tone of her voice, intoning, “Rough quote, we can’t keep them from living long, full lives, with the oaths we swore, but one way or another, if it takes the barrier or something else, we’ll either manage them or be rid of them, so be patient.”

welp. My money's on Edith or Maricica, Lis is too new to be an authority/expert figure in the group. And those two are the most suspicious to begin with.

“No.  Rook showed up, but I was keeping an ear out.  Nothing.  But that’s telling, isn’t it?  That nobody spoke up against it?”

wonder what John would have said, if he'd been there?

[partyanimal167]

The Informant Pt 3- Miguel x F!Reader

I took a little rest to let this story settle in my brain. I think I'm going to move a bit towards the action than I planned but the relationship aspect is still important obvi. I'm happy people are reading this. Let's see where things go

Part One Part Two

CW: fem reader, mdni, author knows some Spanish, some action, non-descriptive violence, Afro-Caribbean reader in mind

It takes a lot for some one to be as demanding as he was with you. It was starting to take a toll on you mentally that maybe you couldn't get out of this one alone. But luck seemed to be on your side with your new superhero friend.

In normal, non-superhero circumstances, it would be inappropriate and creepy to search you up the way he was trying to now. However, this was more for your sake than even his curiosity. Somehow, the worlds of Miguel O'Hara and Spiderman were starting to blend in a way he wasn't expecting.

Miguel chomped on a shitty sandwich while he took a five minute breather away from his experiment to look over what Lyla found on your personal history. So far, nothing was standing out too much. Your father and his family immigrated a few decades back. Grandma opened up her restaurant, parents married. You grew up--got accepted into a business and arts high school. Siblings-

Miguel paused when he saw a news article about a shooting incident. It was between two rival mobs that had an innocent boy as the sole casualty. It was reported that there were no credible witnesses which was bullshit. It was a different time, and no one would speak up at risk of their safety. Miguel knew he had seen the boy's name before. He was going to go back to some previous documents to double-check, but his attention was thrown elsewhere when a knock sounded.

A secretary announced that he had a visitor waiting for him in his office which was...odd.

Miguel had been recently promoted, but there wasn't really any reason should seek him out. His office was more of a glorified cubicle space than something to be fawned over, but that wasn't the point. He was just coming up the ranks as a scientist, but there were other more-notable people in the building to speak with.

Who could- Miguel tensed when he saw the older man from the night before sitting across his desk. He stood when he saw Miguel and shook his hand. Miguel waved off the secretary and took a seat awkwardly at his desk.

"Can I help-,"

"I'll make this brief." the older man's expression was cold and disinterested just like when he barely spared Miguel a glance at the lounge. "If you're some lackey being used by Alchemax to get at y/n, then I suggest you piss off." he sent daggers, and the tension rose immediately.

Normally, Miguel would have gotten aggressive at the rudeness, but he could see the protectiveness in the man's behavior. He released his clenched jaw and exhaled. "I don't know what you're talking about," the man opened his mouth to speak, "and don't interrupt me again." he sighed. "I don't know what this is all about, but I don't have any ill-intentions with her."

The man starred down at Miguel--reading him and taking in different details. He stood to his seat. "I've heard about you sticking your nose into some shady shit, so don't lie to me. Are you one of those scouts snatching people up and testing out drugs?"

How deep in is this guy? Miguel played dumb and held out his hands. "No, no! I just look into ingredient trades is all...when the bosses need something last minute." Which wasn't exactly false. Except, Miguel was keeping an eye out on smuggling and getting things for his personal experiments if there wasn't enough to use at work.

The man starred Miguel down before getting up. "Excuse me then...it seems I've overestimated your position." he quipped.

"Wait!" the man turned around to face the man. "What's...going on? If this is about her, then I want to help. Is everything alright? Why- why do you even care? Aren't you working for-,"

"Don't. Say his name." the man's face relaxed a little, and he took a seat. "Yes, I do work for him, and I never wanted her to get mixed into all of this. I- I should have known better. After Chris died," the man paused for a moment then shook his head, "my name is Raul. The girl is like a niece to me. I've looked after her since she was born. We're from the same neighborhood." it seemed like he wanted to figure out how much to share with Miguel. "There are powerful people who want what she knows. And I'm afraid I can't keep her much safer for now." he messed with his hands then stood up again. "I'd leave her alone if I were you. If you were looking for a play date, go somewhere else. She's got more important shit to worry about." he then stood and walked away for good.

Rude...Miguel sat in his chair and thought for a moment. There was certainly something more going on with the company that he needed to start looking into. If Kingpin would go so far as to use an employee to lure you out, then maybe his patience was getting thinner than you assumed.

~~~

'I think I need that favor.'

You didn't want to send that text to Spider-Man, but after seeing a few unfamiliar yet intimidating faces at your Grandma's restaurant earlier, you knew that you needed to at least show face to the Kingpin to get him off your back. 'No,' wasn't a good enough answer it seemed which meant that things were a bit more complicated than you wanted to believe.

You were cocky at times, but not dumb. You didn't want to cause any unnecessary violence in your neighborhood, so it was better that you returned the call instead of just ignoring it. Kingpin was a real threat, but that type of business never really involved you. You could thank your uncle, Raul, for that, but you didn't want to push your luck.

You took a deep breath before knocking on an old wooden door that separated the outside world from the schemings of the underground.

The door opened immediately, and you were shocked to see a different lackey (not Raul) on the other side. The man didn't say a word to you before turning and leading the way. You followed through the old brownstone hallways and up a flight of stairs. The man knocked before opening a door to a dimly-lit office and moving aside for you to enter.

"Well excuse my manners, I'm so glad you could make it." he stood up whiling putting out his smoke and reached out a hand. You shook it before going back to holding your elbows--fighting the urge to fidget a little. "Please have a seat." and you did.

You cleared your throat awkwardly as you saw the Kingpin himself scribbling notes while puffing a cigar and messing with a calculator. He looked up and brightened seeing you.

The man did a little gesture with his hand and within a moment there was a glass of red wine in front of you. "Oh, uh...thank you." you took a sniff before sipping.

The man repeated your actions. "I hope you like it. It's a zinfandel. A buddy out west sent it to me." he shared. He took another sip before relaxing in his chair. "I'm glad you came by, honestly. I've heard great things about you; some things I can't even believe." he chuckled. He acted calmly as if not to intimidate you, but it was already too late considering his size and command of the room.

"I didn't want to make a big fuss out of anything. I was just curious when I heard there was a girl with a great memory who knew enough people that could find me the connections to a couple of sources I'm looking for." he went on, but you stayed silent. "But shit imagine my luck when I heard that the same girl had connections to that Spider-Man guy."

You couldn't stop yourself from showing your shock. You knew word would get out about that, but it shouldn't have been assumed that you actually knew the hero. You held up your hands. "Wow, I'm sorry sir, but I've only met him a couple times. I don't know what you'd want from me."

The man shrugged and smiled. "Oh relax doll, nothing much. I was just hoping I could meet the guy." you didn't speak. "I think he's great stopping all those bad guys and keeping the streets safe." Tensions started to rise a bit in the room. "But I know how these heroes are--heard about the others across the country. I have a feeling this Spider-Man guy is going to want to take down a big operation. And see, I got a lot of money coming in from my operations. I hear he's been asking about me."

"Mmm," you nodded as if you were following along.

The man looked at you for a moment before beaming again. "But I can deal with that later. That's not why I've been looking for you. See you, you know where I can get some vibranium. I have a arms guy who can make what I need, and I'm ready to pay the price. I got some plans with a few guys at Alchemax who are ready when I am. "

Your lips pulled thin and you could only stare for a moment. "I- I'm not sure if I'm the one could help with that." you trailed off.

Kingpin didnt say anything for a moment before flicking his wrist. A lackey you didn't see placed a briefcase on the desk. It flashed open and revealed stacks of cash. "Listen, I understand the value of information--really. It's a business, and I respect that. I went through a lot of people trying to find a reliable source. I had fuckers lie to me about who they knew or where to go. But you," he pointed and grinned, "you are a reliable source--a respectable business woman. Plus, I can get you more. Money's not everything, so I'll get what you want."

You didn't like how things were going. You were trying to come up with a plan to get out, but you knew there were too many men to fight your way out. You weren't a superhero, just a confidant to many with a powerhouse of knowledge in your head. What were you going to do; spit out addresses to gun warehouses? "I'm not sure if I'm following."

"You are I have similar enough circles, so I did a little research." Kingpin leaned a bit forward onto his desk. "I know what happened when you were younger, what you saw, who threatened you, the ones who made you quiet and loyal." a heavy feeling sunk into your stomach and you wanted to hide. "It wasn't a nice thing for that boy to die, and I'm sorry--really. But I know who did."

"I do to!" you bit out. You huffed before quieting again.

The large man seemed to understand your outburst. "Yes, but I can send him to jail."

It was your uncle who stopped anyone from going after you to permanently shut you up, but you lurked around to find what you could.

The room was silent for a moment.

Silence. You watched your friend die right in front of you but couldn't say a word because of those goons running the street. That feeling followed you everywhere. You could turn a corner and see the thugs out in broad daylight without a care in the world. They didn't bother with who they killed and probably didn't even remember why they did it. But you remembered. You remembered everything: height, weight, hair, eye color, clothes, where they threw the gun, who picked it up, all of it. But you were only a kid--too young to stand up and too powerless even if you could.

You turned to the side. "It doesn't matter anymore..." was all you said.

Kingpin had his hands folded and took a deep breath. "I don't think you believe that." he reached into his coat pocket, and you stiffened. He took out an envelope. "Look into this for me at least. I got your payment already in there."

You grabbed the heavy envelope--turning it around feeling the weight and noting its plainness. You glanced back up. "Who says I'll do it?"

The man's expression dropped coldly. "You will." He grabbed his cigar and brought back to his mouth. "Have a good evening miss." the lighter flickered.

You took that as your cue and stood up--leaving.

Kingpin watched as you left and listened to your footsteps echo down the halls.

"Follow her."

~~~

Miguel watches as you high-tailed it out of the unassuming building and noticed a group of men exit from the back and were trailing behind you. You tried to seem calm as you tried to flag down a cab yet were unsuccessful. The men split up as you approached a subway entrance.

Miguel webbed his way down and quietly caught the men one-by-one, sticking them to the sides of the buildings. He wanted to talk to you, but it would be better if they were secured and silenced. It was a risky move Miguel knew. After all, he heard everything, so when the goons blabbed that they got stopped by the hero, Kingpin may pin that down on you.

But he'd deal with that later.

...

You wanted to ignore the tapping on your bedroom window but knew it was useless. You wiped your face and took a deep breath before opening the window. You leaned forward and watched as Spider-Man leaned against a fire escape rail.

You smiled--resting your bosom on top of your folded arms. The night air chilled your arms since you were only in a tank top, but you couldn't be bothered. "Hey there Spidey, I got home safely, so I assume you kept an eye out."

The man could hear the exhaustion in your voice which he didn't like. "Yeah I did...I'm glad you reached out, bonita." In this moment, Miguel wasn't quite sure what to say. Most of the time as Spider-Man, he was being heroic--saving the day then quickly swinging away from the crowds. Even his conversations with cops and civilians were short and to the point. He wasn't sure how to act when someone didn't know who he was really, but there was some type of relationship going on also.

You smiled a little before glancing up. "Oh yeah before I forget," you reached in your hair and pulled out a discreet hair pin. You handed it over. "I don't know how much hearing my sob story helped, but I did feel better with you listening in."

Miguel took the pin in his hand and was quiet for a moment. "Don't call it that...everyone's story is important. There's a lot we carry every day."

You shrugged and went back to fidgeting with your hands. "We all aren't Spider-Man." You mumbled.

Spider-Man stood up and wiped a stray tear from your cheek. "You don't need to be...and it seems like us meeting is causing you some trouble." it was more intimate gesture than he was going for, but it didn't seem like it bothered you. "I want you to be safe." the words hung over the two of you. It wasn't necessarily a good-bye, but Miguel wasn't sure what to do next.

You sighed and shrugged your shoulders. "I will be...but what about you? You heard what he said. Kingpin is serious about stopping you from becoming a problem."

In your moment of stress, you still had it in you to care--even if it was for a genetically-altered superhero. "Well that's for him to worry about. He's the one stirring up trouble."

You giggled unsure of what to say. A large part of you wanted to stay with the hero and enjoy his company, but you didn't know how to go about that request. No one knew who Spider-Man was, and it wasn't like he was going to start opening up to you. "By the way, I did hear that little compliment of yours. I wouldn't have thought Spider-Man was a flirt."

Miguel straightened up at that. He couldn't stop himself with that one especially seeing you dressed down and remembering what happened the last time you saw each other--when he was just Miguel. He scratched his cheek awkwardly. "I...don't know what to say to that."

You stuck your tongue out a little a winked. "My boy-toy might get jealous if he knew Spider-Man was tryna get with me."

"Boy-toy!?" Miguel was thankful yet again for the mask covering his face. He hadn't really let himself think of how to handle your relationship with Miguel since things were intertwining more. He figured the smart thing to do was cause some space, but...he didn't know how to go about it without seeming like an asshole.

Your sweet laughter brought him out of his musings. "Just kidding. You know that guy hasn't texted me in like three days? We ran into a little trouble on our date, but I didn't think it'd scare him off."

Oh shit, why haven't I texted her? Miguel cleared his throat. "Uh well, maybe not..." he didn't know how to casually defend himself while not obviously defending himself. An alert sounded; he needed to go back to HQ and check on the other Spiders. "I, uh, have to go..." he wasn't sure what else to say. "Please be safe. Whatever that job Kingpin wants you to do...just, you know where to reach me."

You nodded with a soft look in your eyes. "Thanks." And with that, you watched the man shoot away and disappear into the night sky leaving no trace behind.

You let your eyes watch the night lights around your building sparkle. You took the moment to relax before your phone buzzed. You saw the homescreen light up with a notification.

Miguel: Hey beautiful, sorry I've been MIA. How are you? 😉

You chuckled to yourself as you leaned back in your room and closed the window. Well, I was just talking about him.

~~~

Okay, I think I'm gonna get a little spicier in the next chapter or two. I just enjoy the unique role a civilian can have in a superhero universe. Like what!? So many possibilities.

Thank you so much for reading! This story is also posted one A03 if you want a collected place to read. I do think that Tumblr will be a little more ahead with updates, but I'm not sure.

Ciao~

[chalkarts]

MinE now: Part 2

Fluorescents. While not as luminous nor scorching as the sun they are somehow far more uncomfortable. The angry buzz and almost imperceptible pulsations give a parasitic life to the light. Colors washed out, joy leached away, a cubicle farm aglow. A dozen other military demotees and a few renamed protected witnesses that talk too much work endlessly to keep the wheels of bureaucracy grinding along as slowly as possible, the Smiths doing their due diligence. God Bless America.

His ass hasn’t even begun to heat up the cracked vinyl of my chair when It begins.

Lewis, lanky, loud, and far too chipper for the hour fires the first shot. “Hey Maggie! You do anything fun last night?”

Maggie…they all know. He doesn’t know who told them. but they all know.

“Are there actually fun things to do in Cleveland?” He snipes back.

“C’mon man, Cleveland Rocks!” A hard gaze informs him that his banter is unwelcome so he takes the rest of the conversation back to his cubicle.

The inbox is already full. File this paperwork in triplicate. This goes to the mailroom. Why did Drew give send this here when it’s clearly labeled for Oswald? The incompetence is staggering. Every day, noble gasses bathe government ineptitude in miserable radiance. Every day, here he is, begging for an end to it all. Morning becomes lunch then afternoon. It’s getting close to quitting time. Then go can go back to his studio apartment and watch vacation videos on YouTube.

A gravel road voice rocks the office. “Maggie!! Get in here!”

Maggie. he hates that it’s become the norm. He hates himself for responding to it.

From the tone of Boss's voice, it doesn’t sound great, but at least it’s something different. He pops up to peek over the top of his cube, like a mole hoping to be whacked. His eyes are locked on him, not his mustache, him. Making his way through the cubes toward the office, glances and smirks following him to the door.

“Sit down,” The door clicks, silence. Soundproofing that could muffle a massacre plunges them into solitude. His wispy combover prevents him from being any kind of intimidating. He suspects that the Boss keeps it for the same reason he lets a world war one hedge row grow from his upper lip. It’s distracting.

The Boss sits, leaning over his desk, bidding him do the same.

In hushed tones, “It’s no secret that you hate this place.”

He tries to look surprised by the assumption. He hoped he’d hidden it better than that, “No, I don’t hate it...”

“Oh stop,” he cuts him off, “We all hate this place. You, me, the Smiths out there, you aren’t special. But you, unlike most of us, have a chance to get out of here.” Jealousy consumes his scowl for a moment before giving way to his standard air of grump and truculence. “FLAG has an assignment for you. High risk, High reward. All I can tell you now is that if you succeed, you’ll be restored to rank and given a posting of your choice.”

The possibilities explode in his mind. Getting out of here, going anywhere he wants? That is the quintessential meaning of High Reward. But what does he mean by High Risk? 30% chance of success? Does he have to jump into a volcano without a wetsuit? Are there Badgers? What exactly does high risk mean? The only way to find out is to accept. He know how this works. This isn’t his first classified assignment. He can’t see the file or any of the details until he says yes. Accept the task sight unseen. Is the risk worth it? He might be hurt, killed, or worse yet slimed…but he might also get out of Cleveland.

“I’m in.”

“Good, this assignment actually comes down from your old boss.” He pulls a file folder from his desk and slides it across the glass. “Masters was hoping you’d take this. Personnel has been tight ever since Colonel Smith took his team and went AWOL.”

“Didn’t we have a B-team in place?”

“No, we never expected them to do what they did so we never thought to double up. Now they’re gone and we don’t know how to find them.”

“Damn…” They were good men. “I don’t know why they did it, but we’ll catch up to them someday. What about your Townsend girls? I know they’re usually your first call for this sort of thing.”

“They’re down in Mexico on assignment. Might not be back for weeks. Not to be a dick about it, but you’re our bottom of the barrel.”

He opens the file and starts the quest to leave Cleveland.

It’s a bit of a gut punch to see it. Hawaii…home. A satellite photo of the islands looks back at him. The black, tan, and green piles of firmament laid out in a row contrast against the monochrome blue of the Pacific. A million mixed memories pummel his heart with minute peeks into the past that he pissed away. To the south, circled on the map, an almost imperceptible speck.

“What’s this?”

“That’s what we want to know.”

on the next page a lone island sits dead center of the image.

“One of our analysts kids found it on Google Earth. Uncharted, no one even knew it was there. We figured, hey we found an uncharted Island, can we put missiles on it? So we focused our eyes in the sky on it. Damned if it wasn’t already inhabited.”

The next page is a closer view of the tiny speck of land. Several circular buildings of varying size bearing thatched roofs dot the island. Dirt paths carved through the jungle connect them to one another, and to a dock built on the southern point near a field of blue flowers. “Satellites show It’s surrounded by a dense coral reef, but you could get a boat in there, if you were good. You might even get a ship in there if you were amazing. We need to find out what’s going on there.”

“What, exactly, do you need me to do?”

“We need recon and potential clean up. We don’t know what this is.” an exasperated shrug accents his cluelessness. “It may be an uncontacted indigenous tribe, or it might be the center of a world spanning evil organization bent on burning the earth to flinders. We hope it’s the former but can’t rule out that it’s the latter until we get eyes on the ground. Which is where you come in. We airdrop you half a mile offshore, you scoot in and get us some intel. If it’s a tribe, make no contact, bug out fast. We don’t screw around with indigenous people any more. The sentinelese were a lesson learned. If they’re evil doers, proceed with whatever you feel is the necessary course of action.”

‘Wetwork?” It’s a good question to get out of the way. Being invisible is more difficult than no witnesses.

“Only if necessary, we’re not trying to start an international incident with a bloodbath.”

“Fair enough,” He never liked killing. It’s easy to do but hangs heavy on the heart. He tries not to show that it bothers him. In this line of work, Empathy isn't necessarily frowned upon, but it will not get you a promotion so he hides the sadness behind a ridiculous mustache and moves forward.

“Back-up?” He asks, not expecting much.

“You’ll have comms and a handler but nothing on the ground.”

“Weapons?”

“Whatever you can find. We don’t want a semi auto falling into the hands of uncontacted tribes so use what you can find on the island. If you’re going to need weapons, there will already be weapons there somewhere.”

He's been there before. Wearing an earpiece, a stranger telling him the layout and feeding him intel while he reports the details back to them. Hoping to find an arsenal, maybe a medkit. It’s all pretty standard. When he finishes looking over the maps and digesting the files only one question remains.

“When do I drop?”

“Tomorrow.” He says, handing over a plane ticket to Honolulu. "You should leave now. Your plane leaves at 6, you have 3 hours."

Fleeing the office, ticket in hand, he gives the cube farm a long desired, “Fuck you Lewis!” and hits the door.

A short bus ride, efficient shower, and long Lyft later, he's on his way home.

(To Be Continued)

[collectingtruths]

Part 5: Expect The Unexpected

“The unexpected always happens.” ― Benjamin Disraeli

[She didn’t know what she had expected, but it wasn’t to go fifteen days without hearing from Dom. This wasn’t like him. After the first week, she was a little worried, but she didn’t want to break his balls. He was a damn good cop, an incredible detective and he always found a way to make things work. Still, it was unusual that he hadn’t stopped by to give her a smart ass remark or try and steal her food.

When the Eagles won, she expected to hear his mouth from the moment the elevator dinged on Monday morning, but all she heard was the rest of the crew talking about the antics that happened in the city. And if she had been a little worried on day seven, she was a lot worried on day fifteen.

Leaning back in her seat, she let her head tilt back as she looked at the ceiling. She was trying to remember the last conversation they had that night. He said he trusted the person he was sending in with his life and she hadn’t thought about it at the time, but now…her eyes widened as she sat up. Locking her computer, she grabbed her office keys and shoved them into her pocket after she locked her door on her way out. She had taken the elevator up two floors and then made her way for the cubicles that filled the larger space.

She went straight toward the one that had Falcone’s name hung up on the exterior wall. She half expected to see him reclined in his seat, playing with one of those metal binder clips and chewing on the chain that held his St. Michael’s medal, but the chair was empty, the trash had been taken out, nothing scattered across his desk. Her brow furrowed when she heard the sound of voices coming from a few cubicles over. She walked over and when they all smiled and looked at her, she shoved her thumb in the direction of Dom’s desk. Anyone know where Falcone is? Is he trying to milk that Eagles win or what? [She heard the chuckles and she was given direction to go see the Cap, that he hadn’t been in for a few weeks, but they thought he had put in vacation. “I think he was supposed to go down to Mexico with his ex.” They all started laughing. “Think he’ll come back married?” Another round of laughter. “Shit, I hope not. His ex was fucking crazy.” She shook her head and then smiled.] Thanks, I appreciate it. [She turned and walked away. She knew she likely wouldn’t get too far with their Captain so she just wasn’t going to bother. Stepping back into the elevator, she jumped a bit when the large hand came up between the doors just in time to stop them from closing. She didn’t know him, didn’t recognize him. “Looking for Dom?” She looked over at the man and her brow began to furrow again. He looked like he was a few bags short of an OD, but then it registered who he was.] Gaines? [He chuckled and nodded his head. “Gotcha.” She nodded as the doors finally closed again.] Yeah, you did. [He smiled at her. I figured. I’ve been undercover for awhile. Just closed my gig and came back in to see what else was going on and that’s when I saw our boy got himself an assignment.” She stopped talking when the doors opened and someone else got on. She knew it. She fucking knew he did it. He trusted himself and that was what he meant by that. When the person got off, she rode right by her floor as they headed for the ground level so he could go out through the garage.] He wasn’t supposed to do that. [Gaines looked over at her and his brow arched. “If you asked him to do it, well…then we both know why he went.” She started to shake her head, but the door was opening and he was stepping out.] I never asked him. I never asked him to do anything. He said he was going to get someone he trusted. [Gaines chuckled and threw up his hands as he walked backward. “Ain’t nobody better to trust than yourself, kid. You know that. Take care, Vance. He’ll be just fine. He’s one of the best.” She shook her head.] Be safe, Bobby. [She hit the button for her floor and waited as the doors closed again. The silence seemed to hurt her ears as she replayed what he said…if you asked him to…but she didn’t. She never wanted him to take on this task, but Gaines was right. Dom had been undercover for years. He’d get what he needed and get out. He wasn’t supposed to do that. [Gaines looked over at her and his brow arched. “If you asked him to do it, well…then we both know why he went.” She started to shake her head, but the door was opening and he was stepping out.] I never asked him. I never asked him to do anything. He said he was going to get someone he trusted. [Gaines chuckled and threw up his hands as he walked backward. “Ain’t nobody better to trust than yourself, kid. You know that. Take care, Vance. He’ll be just fine. He’s one of the best.” She shook her head.] Be safe, Bobby.

[She hit the button for her floor and waited as the doors closed again. The silence seemed to hurt her ears as she replayed what he said…if you asked him to…but she didn’t. She never wanted him to take on this task, but Gaines was right. Dom had been undercover for years. He’d get what he needed and get out. Once she was back in her office with the door closed, she picked up her phone and dialed down to the Detective Sergeant and asked to be put in contact with the handlers, she let them know she had information pertinent to a case a UC had been working on. After a few minutes of being on hold, she assumed the handler who was overseeing Dom had answered. She gave him a few pieces of information and number for a personal line and asked that Dom text her whenever he was secured to do so. With the call over, there wasn’t much more she could do short of going down into Killadelphia looking to score, but that wouldn’t end well for her and she knew it. Hours had passed and it was now the end of her shift. She had closed up the files she was working on and when everything was secure she left the office and her day behind. It wasn’t until she left the parking lot that she heard the soft ding come from her purse. While watching the road and reaching into her bag, she pulled it out. Stopping at the stoplight, she was quick to read the message. “Hey, baby. I ain’t coming over tonight, I’ve got some shit to do. I’ll hit you up later.” She blew out a breath and didn’t care about the horn that honked behind her. He was letting her know that he couldn’t get out right now because he was onto something and that he’d reach out when he could. She rolled her window down and shoved her middle finger out of it. The horn blowing got a little more impatient but then she pulled away and made the turn. She was just glad that she had heard back from Dom, she would sleep a hell of a lot easier tonight knowing he had it handled and maybe, just maybe no one else would die at the hands of their trafficker any time soon. At least not by contract.]

#TDATD #Mortal

[fxshigurosbae]

ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.

now playing ► KINKTOBER 22, second week.

OVERVIEW. he is much worse better than you thought.

♫ SONG DURATION.

0:00 ——◦———— -2.5kwords

parental advisory ! explicit content

LYRICS. boss!employer, office, clothed sex, semi-public setting, enemies to lovers, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, rough, manhandling, size kink, fingering, stockings, creampie, pet names, sound restraint, unprotected, strong language.

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

— the playlist

fear of men, more like a desire to avoid them, there were comprehensible reasons. that included, more specifically, directly and shamelessly honesty in wishing to stay away from that man, the one in charge of you, kento nanami. what a complete cold, rude and snobby attitude he has, you thought. he gives me so much work, it’s impossible to finish on my shift!, you complain. fuck him, such a jerk. you insulted on your head all over again, in a very constant and, perhaps daily, trail of thought. that blond-hair that whenever you saw, sent horrific shivers down your spine, followed by a not very discrete sigh from your lips, a snort or even maybe, clicking your tongue. nanami, your boss, surely was a man of few words, choosing ambiguously wisely, well, in a very direct way — maybe a little too straightforward — and so, coming off as an asshole sometimes, which infuriated your nerves. definitely, your efforts were higher than most of the workers there, yet, he did not recognize it, ever, no one’s efforts — it is your duty, if you’re unsatisfied, resign. yeah, harsh, his word. with a pile of never-ending papers of data, skimming through the numbers, letters and symbols with a dizzy head, stiff fingers from the repetitive typing, working overtime, again. throughout the day, with the same rhythm, no accumulated tasks and even so, you had to work until late at night, watching your workmates leave, with dark circles under their eyes but still, sharing how much they were going to eat after that, ramen, beer, rice, something as small as an oniguiri made your mouth salivate — curse him, making you go through that suffering, that torture. now, the lights were off, only the city outside, the hallway and your bright, blinding screen were a part of the scene, making the space a bit more visible, barely. worse was, being so focused on the priorities, thinking the other person across the cubicles of the office wasn’t anyone important…

“y/n, please, come here.” jolting at the sudden break of the silence — exempting the sirens and horns from outside, keyboard, air conditioner and the machines — a voice, a familiar one called. your curious eyes peeking over the white low walls, standing up fully, taking steps at the direction of the speaker, high heels tapping, echoing lowly. i thought he hated working overt—

“you do know i hate working overtime.” effortfully, attempting to contain yourself from rolling your eyes back.

“yes, i am well aware of that matter.” if someone could see your face, they’d say you must have woken up on the wrong side of bed. he took off his glasses, cleaning them with a cloth, then staring back at you with that same old quite angered expression, like yours, a very tense atmosphere, as usual.

“then, tell me why haven’t you been able to finish your work? you do know i am your supervisor, if the important tasks, given to you, are not done, those become my responsibility.” rude. even standing a bit farther from him, from a higher angle, that made yourself feel so much smaller, intimidated.

“well, if you hadn’t given me so much to d—

“it’s your work, i have mine, if you do yours, we will avoid this situation.” putting his glasses back on, he focused on the screen in front of him, typing for a few seconds. “don’t get your personal feelings involved on this matter, be a professional.”

“i’m sorry?” you question, confusedly mad, making the man pause, glance at you with his head titled slightly towards your direction.

“i acknowledge your dislike for me.” good, at least he’s self-aware. “i am simply doing my job, i see you take my sincerity as an offense.” you restrain yourself, doing the upmost to keep quiet, to be mature.

“well, nanami, if you weren’t such a— beep beep

the fax machine starts, gosh, that thing saved your job. watching the blond stand up, walk towards the big equipment with slow movements, seeming tired, perhaps. doing whatever was needed, heading to where you stood, without a care in the world and, setting the paper on his desk, yet, not sitting back down.

“what were you saying?” his almost adenoidal voice asked, as if teasingly, he knew where you were getting at. supporting himself with a hand on the surface, staring at you, expressionless.

“nothing.” stares, the eye contact was intense. a few seconds later, his head looked down, hearing a sigh come from him, his fingertips removed his glasses for real, now, laying them on the table. Your breath hitched as you noticed the distance between you both had been way closer than you’d thought.

“you surely are a piece of trouble, it even feels like i am your enemy,” crossing his arms and legs. “mrs. y/n.” because you are.

“are you done lecturing me, again?” there was a twitch in his lips, almost like a curve forming, your heart skipped a beat.

“no.” simple like that. it wasn’t fair, how he approached you, even if you felt rage inside, that could not be enough to make you push him away. closing in, inch by inch, putting you on a narrow spot, where you have your lower back against the desk, holding onto the borders, his body so proximal, yet not touching at all.

“what are you doing?” you nervously question, feeling your cheeks warm up.

“i have no sentiment of hatred against you, even if it seems like it,” such a calm voice. “in fact, what i dislike are your methods, more so, who you are at work.”

“that didn’t change anything.” the air felt heavier.

“it did, i never said i hated who you really are, since i don’t know her,” his breath was fresh, burning against your skin, a very noticeable difference in heights. “but you,” he paused. “you can’t say the same.”

“that’s right,” oh, a chuckle from him. your heart skipped a beat, again, dammit. the blond leaned down, a tiny bit, getting closer, so close his eyes felt like devouring you, until you noticed his hands beside your waist, but on the desk, enclosing your body even more. “i, hate….” lips so very close. “you…” touching barely. “nanami.” softly kissing, yet harsh at first, the contact was a perfect fit. the kiss had endured a few seconds, those seconds felt like nothing, until you were the one pulling away.

“doesn’t seem like it.” if you could, you’d punch him in the face, never even wanting to think about how red your cheeks must have been, because you know they were burning. his mouth leisurely moving close to your ear, both his hands latched onto your waist delicately, shivering as those same palms brought your hips against his crotch. “will you let me fuck this hatred out of you, darling?” whispering so very softly, it damaged your poor heart — which beat sped up even more.

“want to see you try.” words slipped out, slightly feeling his smirk against your skin, suddenly being put to seat on the desk, where there was an empty space and, nanami swiped off whatever could be in the way. another kiss, a fierce one, the man fondled your ass, with a gasp you left, then, he could easily slip his tongue inside your mouth and start leading. his fingers snook under your skirt, having your legs wrap around him, it was easy to lift you off the table and, unexpectedly, rip off your stockings, having you choke. “those were my favorite!” you complained breathless, in between pecks.

“i’ll buy you a new one, sweetheart.” feeling a breeze against your skin, you sinked back down the surface. those long fingers of his right hand, now instead, made their way to your shirt, still supporting yourself on the border of the wood below you and, all while he almost devoured your lips. unbuttoning so skillfully the small dots of your white collared shirt — the one that fit perfectly, made your body look absolutely even more gorgeous — until your lacy black bra was on sight, having him pull away for a second and, shamelessly stare at your chest, smiling truthfully, not taking off your shirt entirely, but was open enough to expose your torso. “that’s sweet.” you couldn’t decipher what he truly meant and, even if you could, he did not let you, after joining your lips once more, passionately. those digits now finding their way under the fabric, pushing it down, letting your breasts free over the bra, playing with a nipple surprisingly and, spontaneously letting out an unwanted moan. you were the one pulling away now, too ashamed to stare back at him, head to the side, covering your eyes with your forearm, noticing how the bulge on his pants was in contact with your inner thighs. he decided to stop, spreading your legs further apart, loosening his tie with a heavy breathing that made his features soften, unzipping his pants with the other hand. nanami reached now to your thighs, running his hands until the hem of your panties, since your skirt had been lifted to your hips quite some time ago, finishing to rip off the pantyhose you wore, as well as, pushing aside the cotton fabric of the lacy underwear matching your top and, your own hand flew to his wrist as soon as he played with your folds. “are you embarrassed for being this wet?” the blond questioned, noticing how you tried to stop him.

“shut up.” he smirked softly, again. lubricating his fingers enough and, so quickly, that it was easy to slid two of them inside your pussy, without warning, clenching your walls and attempting to squeeze your legs shut, however, he kept them open. your mouth morphed into an o shape, throwing your head back in ecstasy. “don’t tell me you’ve came already.”

“i-i didn’t.” liar, what a silly lie, you haven’t had sex in years. pushing them deeper in, you tried hard to keep quiet, it worked, for now. still tightly gripping onto his arm and wrist, so ashamed of the situation, your toes curled and heels were about to fall off from your feet, while nanami’s chest was heavily and seductively going up and down. thrusting those in and out painfully slow, curling them when he was all the way through, calloused wide and long fingers, he acted as if prioritizing your own pleasure first — he would never do that, would he? he’s just a selfish prick that… fuck — hitting that one spot led you to the edge, lips parted again, a low, very very low whine escaped and your grip tightened, yet, he knew he had found it.

“you’re very sensitive, mrs. y/n.” don’t say my name or i’ll… his tired eyes had an unexpected warmth to them, differently than usual, there was even this strange feeling that he was so needy and caring, his cheeks were faintly red, even if the lights were low, you could see that. with a more than perfect thrust of his fingers, such a pretty whine left your lips, so lewd, meanwhile, so innocent, not a hint of fakeness, nor dislike. and, with your back arched a little more, biting onto your lower lip, discrete trembling legs, you had came once more, a bit harder than before, squelching noises becoming louder, but before that, nanami’s head fell onto the crook of your neck, his nose against your skin. “i can’t take it anymore,” pulling out of you, he grabbed onto the sides of your hips, slowly leaning back, inches away from your face. “i need to fuck you.” with that, kissing again, like it was familiar already, like he was famine, with insatiable hunger for you. nanami, once more, like before, spread your legs apart, getting in between them, your arms wrapping around his wide shoulders. so very suddenly thrusting inside, with a cock you’d never imagine could be that big, immediately failing to keep silent, yet you kept on trying. pausing to take each breath, he faltered, with chopped short breaths, recomposing and pounding for the first time deep enough to maintain your legs shaking. one of his hands rested against your lower back, the other, held one of your thighs, bringing it closer to him. those were harsh, long pounds, ones that could easily break you in half if you were a porcelain doll. the pace was rough, but even, with a slight hint of gentleness. his groans were audible, your ego was flushed down the sink, which meant your whining was all over the place now, you gave up — he was treating you nice, there was no reason to stay quiet — and those sounds were soft, so sweet, so pretty, his cock seemed even bigger inside, your gummy walls clamping him tighter, hardly letting him breath.

“you fucking b-bastard,” dizzy, breathless, aroused and with tits jolting along your entire body at each of his forceful and precise thrusts. “it feels s-so good.” praising rudely, in between the pecks of his lips against yours, finding his way into also kissing your cervix.

“i know, sweetheart, i know.” his voice soothed your anger, which made you even more irritated, which contrasted with the puppy expression in your pretty face. pulling your body closer, with a more concentrated, methodical pace, the one that led you to moan even louder, to hear this man whine so desperately, to have you repeat a number of no!no!ngh-n-no!s, trying to convince yourself this was not the best fuck in your entire life — who would have thought, your boss, the one you hated, that treated people so badly, could do this to you. your nails digging over his social shirt, the one unbuttoned to the top of his chest, seeing a droop of swear rolling down, making his fragrance stronger. instinctively, arching your back, while being both penetrated by his cock, balls deep, jolting body, embraced by his arms pulling your hips at each slapping contact. a familiar feeling on your lower belly, clenching down even more, moaning so loudly it echoed, being kissed all over your neck, with his soft lips.

“‘m gonna cum!” effortfully advising, trembling.

“go on, please, do it for me, darling.” gripping the back of his hair, pulling him into a last kiss before his sloppy pounds made you cum another time, so good that it sent electric sparks all over your body, beginning to get so dumb for his cock that if he kept it that way, you’d even tell blurt out you loved him. followed by you, repeated fucks left nanami’s mouth, very serenely and lowly until there was just this sudden warmth filling you up, thrusting one last time, and a white ring on the base of his cock, staying in position for as long as he could last. in an instant, it flew by, only noticing his missing comfort as he slid out of your cunny. but, well, the man was not hesitant to push two of his fingers inside you, keeping his cum stored safely inside. “consider it your salary advance.”

🔖: @ryumiii @shi-thats-kiera @witheldclouds @jeanswife101 @doumalover @drpepperlov3r @bontensbabygirl @cozydeku @simp-lauren @fatenpara @cookieempress2 @call-me-pretty-and-nasty

[supernaturalgirl20]

Love To Hate You

Pairings: Max Phillips x f!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, oral (both receiving), angst, mentions of drinking blood, cursing, enemies to lovers.

Summary: You and Max have been working together for the last year and there is only one thing you have in common - you both hate each other! Now you are both in competition with each other for Ted’s job. Who will win? Who will lose? Will you both realise that’s there’s a fine line between love and hate?

A/N: this is a collaboration between myself and Chloe @misspearly1 and we are so excited to work together on this 🥰 hope you enjoy 😉

Co-written with the amazing @misspearly1.

Reblogs appreciated 🥰

The sound of your heels against the tiled floor echoes across the office as you walk with determination towards your desk. You could feel the eyes of your co-workers on you as you passed them, especially Evans. God you hated him.

Shrugging off your coat you place your bag on the floor and go to make yourself a coffee. You could do with something stronger but it was only 9 in the morning. “I’ll take mine black.”

Rolling your eyes you turn your head slightly to your irritating, egotistical, handsome vampire co-sales manager. “Get it yourself Phillips,” you say with a snarl.

“Aww toots, that’s no way to treat your new boss now is it,” he says with a sly smirk on his face.

“In your dreams.”

“Oh baby, in my dreams you do everything I tell you to do.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you as you pour your cup and make your way back to your desk. Sitting down you both glare at each other. “Wait! What do you mean my boss?”

“Oh that’s right, you haven’t heard,” he says as he slowly slides across the floor towards you. He seats himself at the edge of your desk, looking down at you with a satisfied smirk on his face. “Ted is retiring and wants to promote one of us to company director. Well, to promote me.”

“Why wasn’t I told?”

“Well if you..”

“Ah, Y/N there you are, can I talk to you for a minute please?” Ted turns towards his office and you push away from the desk quickly to follow him. Before you reach the door Max grabs your wrist, the coolness of his skin sending a spark through you. Your eyes meet and you can’t help but stare into those deep brown eyes that you love. Nope! Loathe. “You’re going to tell Ted you don’t want the job and then you’re gonna come back here and fuck me.”

“What?!” You say as you pull your hand away from him. “You did not just try to glamour me?”

Shrugging his shoulders he makes his way back to his own desk, “worth a shot.”

You turn and practically stomp towards Ted’s office, already done with this day.

***

“Ted, what the hell? You led me to believe that the position was mine! What’s changed?” Stamping into his office, pissed off and confused.

Your boss stood and pointed a finger to Max out the window. “Him,” he said simply and tapped on the window for emphasis, “before Max, the position was yours because no one else wanted it. Now it’s a competition.”

“What?!” You heard him clearly, but needed more explanation. Me compete with Max?

“A competition,” Ted began. Walking over to sit behind his desk, he wheeled his seat into the cubicle and elaborated, “You and Max have to show me that you can be leaders. I’ll be monitoring your sales, comparing your stats, watching you engage in team building exercises and at the end of the month, you’ll each be presenting a slideshow as to how you can improve the company.”

“Oh God,” you cringed, burying your head into the palms of your hands and not liking the sound of this competition already. A hard working human going up against an asshole, cheating Vampire. How is that fair?

But still, Ted continued, “whoever impresses me, shows me they can be the new boss, gets the job. Can you do that Y/N?” Do I really have a choice? You groaned, nodding to the man and standing from your seat, “yes I can. This job is mine, Ted.”

“Huh, that’s funny,” he chuckled, “Max said the same thing. This is going to be an interesting month for sure. Good luck to you, Y/N.”

It is going to be an interesting month, because one thing is sure, Max Phillips will not be getting in your way. One way or another, that job is yours.

***

The rest of your morning carried on like usual, apart from the stares from your co-workers, who very clearly sense the animosity in the air between you and Max, your work wasn’t affected by this competition, if anything, it boosted it up, motivated you to work harder, better.

Max on the other hand, took it upon himself to spend his morning hanging by the receptionist's desk, whispering sweet nothings into her ear and promising her a good night in bed. Fools, you laughed to yourself. You’ve got this job, the man isn’t even working and Elizabeth is clinging onto his every word, believing his crock of bullshit.

So far, you’re ten sales up, in the lead against Max and the clock hasn’t even struck twelve. Maybe Elizabeth is unintentionally doing you a favour, keeping the vampire entertained and distracted. You could use this to your advantage.

Playing dirty may be wrong but you work hard at your job, you have over the course of working here for three years and Max already has an extremely unfair advantage against you before the games have even begun. He’s a vampire with abilities to scam his way to the top and you’ll be damned if you aren’t going to get as dirty as him. This job is yours.

Reaching down to your bag, you grabbed your notebook and tore out a page and scribbled out a few words with a smirk across your face. Max is a pretentious asshole who loves himself, loves the attention from the ladies and you can play him like a fiddle. He may be a vampire with abilities but you’re driven and determined.

Walking over to his desk, you placed the note just under the edge of his keyboard and walked away, waiting for the games to begin when he found what you’ve written. Soon after Ted came out of his office, Max moved away from Elizabeth's desk, muttering something along the lines of, “Thanks for photocopying that for me.”

Sitting down at his own desk, you watched him in your prehiperhal vision finding the note, the one brow crooking upwards with a sly smirk and instantly looking up at Jenifer. When Ted went back to his office, Max was on the move in a flash, moving from his seat and striding over to Jen.

“Hey there toots, Friday night, you, me, dinner and sex, yeah?” Oh wow! You struggled to hide your delight. Max was so confident with that, he doesn’t even know that Jen is married. The woman turned in her chair, her hand coming around and connecting the side of his face with an audible slap.

The look of stun on his face was the highlight. A hand held on his reddened cheek, shocked with confusion as Jen stood and b-lined straight for Ted's office. Max looked at the note again, ‘I need you, big guy ;) - J’, there’s no one else in here with the name beginning with J. He racked his brain, thinking about who it could be, who he got it mixed up with, who wrote the no- you. You did.

Max looked at you, oh so little innocent Y/N is not so innocent after all. He knows it’s you. He can sense you trying, and failing, to hide your delight. The corners of your mouth twitching to hold back your smile, the fact that you’re actively avoiding his eyesight, because he knows if you look at him, you will erupt into a fit of laughter at his failure.

“Max!” Ted yelled from his office, “Get in here.”

However Max didn’t move, his eyes bore into yours, penetrating your soul as he stepped closer, leaning over your desk to challenge you, “Is that how you want to play this, Y/N?” He asked, his voice almost growling.

Looking up at him, acting coy and nonchalant, you rested your chin into the palms of your hands, acting like you didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, “Huh? Come again Maxie?”

The man narrowed his eyes, leaning in much closer now, so close that you could smell his cologne, feel the power vibrating off him, his hungry smile as he licked his lips, “You want to play dirty, toots?” He chuckled, teasing you, “Two can play at that game.”

With a wink, he left.

Fuck, what have I started?

Part 2

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