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ihearthes · 5 months

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Christmas Thyme part 1

Author: @ihearthes

Pairing: Harry x Reader Insert (1st person)

Rating: Smut (NSFW, 18+ Only)

Word Count: 2665

‘Tis a week before Christmas, and just as I am preparing to twist the “Open” sign to its “Closed” side, the bell over the door jingles. Inwardly, I groan. Outwardly, I paste on my brightest smile as I pivot towards my (hopefully) final customer of a very long, very exhausting day.

I freeze.

Because standing there in the doorway of my boutique is Harry Styles. THE Harry Styles. You know. As It Was. Watermelon Sugar. Sex on a stick. That last one isn’t a song. Just a description.

“Um, hi,” I mumble, not knowing what else to say, but then I quickly tack on a “How may I help you?”

His eyebrows draw downwards, and he looks around at the merchandise which, after a long day of Saturday sales in the last few frantic days before the most important gift-buying holiday of the year, is scattered everywhere.

I’ve no idea if I want him to decide to leave immediately or if I should beg him to stay and shop. I do neither.

But only because I spot another person on the street outside, pointing at one of the most sought after and most frequently purchased soy candles. She and her friend appear to be heading towards the door, so I summon the last of my energy and lunge for the door ahead of them, pulling the shade while simultaneously rotating the lock. My panicked movements mean I jostle the popstar as he stands nearby.

“Oops! I’m so sorry. I just…”

“Are you open or closed?” He asks, worry etched on his forehead where it peeks out underneath his black beanie. I take him in, recognising his face instantly. With a pair of joggers, he wears a black Pleasing crewneck, and I’m briefly jealous of how cosy it looks. I wouldn’t mind snuggling close – to the crewneck, of course.

I am, after all, a competent businesswoman. Pfft. Okay, I’m trying to be one.

“We’re closed now, but if you don’t have much to shop for, you’re welcome to look around while I tidy up in preparation for Tuesday’s maniacal clientele.

He grunts, and I assume it’s affirmation that he’d like to look around, so I nod. “Are you looking for something in particular? Or shopping for a certain someone?” Wracking my brain, I attempt to recall if he’s currently dating anyone, but I’ve no idea. Since opening up my pop up last month, I’d not had time to do much more than work daily until exhaustion forces me to crawl into bed with a heating pad on my back and warm peppermint compresses on my feet.

“Just looking…” He smiles, and I’m nearly blinded by the left dimple.

Holy shit. No wonder he’s so popular.

I have the silly idea that I should sniff him. It would be easy to make a tonne of money from bottling his scent and selling it. Then I would have enough money to set up a permanent shop to sell my organic candles, soaps, and lotions.

Resisting only because I have managed to maintain some self-respect after being yelled at and cursed at by customers all day long, I decide to provide him some privacy.

“Absolutely. Let me know if you have any questions.”

He nods once, and I swear my insides melt into a puddle like Frosty the Snowman when the sun has come out.

Stepping to the counter, I fiddle with the sound system, turning off the grating holiday tunes that permeate the atmosphere this time of year and sliding instead into some soothing jazz from Alfa Mist. As soon as the first song starts playing, Harry’s head whips around and he stares in my direction.

“Excellent choice.” His voice is gravelly and kind with a bit of surprise in it.

“It’s the kind of music I prefer,” I shrug, not knowing what else to say.

“Me too.”

It’s such a surprising thing for him to say that I do my own double take, but he’s returned already to smelling the candles on the wall display.

Shrugging, I move to the first shelves to the right of the register, straightening products, and making mental notes of what I need to restock. When I move to the next set of shelves, though, it’s clear that a mental note isn’t going to be of any help. There are simply too many hand lotions, soaps, and other products that need to be replaced. Sighing, I move behind the counter again, withdrawing a pad of paper. Quickly, I jot down what I need to replace on the first two shelves.

Turning my head, I see that Harry has barely finished sniffing one shelf of candles. “Um…” He glances up at my utterance. “...would you mind if I stepped into the back to grab some more stock?”

“Whatever you need to do.” His voice is so silky that I could easily wear it and nothing else against my skin forever.

In the small stockroom, I remove my shoes, wiggling my toes that have been screaming at me for the last two hours. Grabbing a basket I keep for just this purpose, I fill it with the items on my list before stepping back onto the main floor. The coolness of the tiles under my toes is soothing, and I sigh at the pleasure of it on my hot skin. Quickly, I restock the first two shelves, giving my feet a workout as I have to rise onto my toes multiple times. My knees also get to practise squatting so I can place items on the bottom shelf.

After I slide my protesting feet back into my shoes, I sneak a peek to check on Harry. He’s moved on to the next set of shelves, opening the sample shampoos and smelling them one by one.

At this rate, he’ll be here another hour at least.

Surveying the third set of shelves, I jot down the merchandise I need to pull from the back for this one. It’s the shelf of eye compresses I’ve made that include differing herbs to soothe the skin around the eyes and quiet the mind. With a quick glance at Harry, I return to the storeroom, trying to recall where I’d placed the box holding more eye compresses.

Spying it on a higher shelf, hiding behind a box of the scented rice neck pillows I’d designed to be heated and worn next to the skin, I stand on my tiptoes in order to reach. Just — one — more — inch — CRASH! Both boxes clatter to the ground, the sides splitting open on the box holding the neck pillows, and I sigh.

“Are you okay?”

His voice startles me, and I jump like that time I’d been forced to watch a horror movie by my previous boyfriend. The arsehole.

Placing my hand on my chest to calm my pounding heart, I smile at where his head has emerged through the curtain separating the sales floor and stockroom.

“Thank you for checking on me. I’m okay. Just knocked off a couple of boxes.”

“Shit. That looks annoying. Let me help.” He muscles his way past the curtain, assisting me by setting the box right side up. I locate the roll of packing tape I’d used earlier to package some items for a customer who wanted them delivered, handing the tape to Harry as he repairs the box. “I’m Harry.” His introduction is endearing, and I share my name too.

“No one else working tonight?” His hushed tones do things to my body that are inappropriate for work.

“No one else is working ever. It’s my shop, and I couldn’t afford to pay for help this year.”

“Damn. How do you manage?”

“Well, I take it slow on nights like this with the restocking and tidying because I know I’ll get the next two days to soak my feet and relax.”

“But how do you do it during the day with all the customers?”

“I think that’s clear from the state of the front. I muddle through.” My shrug is intended to communicate that there’s no real answer to that question.

“Can I help?”

“YOU?” I yelp, clamping both hands over my mouth at my shriek.

“Why not me?”

“Um, cause you’re Harry Styles.”

When he smiles this time, his eye crinkles come into focus, and I’m lost in him. I could stare at those crows’ feet all night, I think.

“And that means I can’t help?”

“It means that you probably have plenty of plans that don’t include stocking shelves.”

“Hmmm… tonight, I actually do not have plans. My sister and I were supposed to shop for our mum, and then my sister ended up ill, so…” Trailing off, he raises both hands to the side in imitation of a shrug. “You can pay me by helping me choose gifts for my mum and my sister. And my manager’s wife. And maybe the wives of my friends.”

“That’s silly. I’d help you with that for free.”

“Ah, well then, you can take me out to dinner after we’re done.”

My jaw drops. Dinner with Harry Styles?

Is he asking me out on a date?

“Just as repayment, right?” I ask.

“For starters,” he smirks, and my panties become uncomfortable as I rub my legs together. “I’ll take these boxes out front.” Bending his knees, he picks up the box of neck pillows with the box of eye compresses on top. Striding through the curtain, he drops the boxes on the floor and immediately starts artfully arranging the merchandise. Occasionally, he brings a pillow to his nose and breathes in deeply.

Mesmerised, I watch from the door to the store room. After a few minutes, he removes his coat, carefully draping it over the counter, smiling at me as I straighten the bottles of lotion on the table, ensuring that the rosemary mint doesn’t get mixed up with the rosemary thyme. It’s easy to get them confused as the labels are similar.

“How long did it take you to prepare all of this?” Harry asks, his hand encompassing the entire shop.

“All year. My dad –” I pause as emotion invades my throat, layering it with sorrow. Finally, I swallow, clearing the grief. “My dad was ill for the last couple of years, so I quit my job to move in and take care of him. I started growing the herbs in his garden. And then I needed something to do with all of the herbs I grew, so I started making soaps and selling them at the local farmer’s market. Demand was swift, and I’ve been expanding the line for the last eight months or so.”

“That’s amazing!” His face has lit up like the Christmas tree that’s in the corner of the shop, and his grin takes over his entire countenance. “And how’s your dad doing now?”

I wince. “He actually died in July.”

“Oh. I’m sorry for your loss.”

My watery smile hopefully conveys my gratitude. “He was ready to go. At least that’s what he told me. And I needed a project after his death to keep me busy while I cleaned out the house and prepared to sell it.”

“Sell it? Why?”

Moving to the next table, I straighten the bars of soap. Wiping a tear from my eye, I answer his question. “Too many memories. I’ve had a lot of loss in my life, and now I’m the only one left in my immediate family. So when I’m in the house, all I can see are the people no longer with me.”

“That must be hard.” His hand rests on my shoulder, and I’m startled because I hadn’t realised he’d approached.

“It’s life. Lucky for me, I have my dreams to keep me going.”

“Dreams of expanding beyond a popup shop at the holidays?”

“Something like that,” I nod.

“Sounds lovely. Listen, I’m done with these shelves, and those over there look pretty good. I, um, straightened them earlier when I was testing the product. Is there a broom so I can sweep up?”

Astonished, I blink at him. “No. No. No. I draw the line at having a number one pop musician sweep my floor.”

He giggles, his laugh growing until he’s slapping his knee, his full body moving with glee as he heartily releases his mirth. “So if I were the number one classical musician or number one jazz musician or number one country musician, you’d be okay with me cleaning the floor?”

Seeing the humour in my comment, I laugh along with him. “Okay. Okay. You’ve found me out. Only pop musicians aren’t allowed to sweep up. Everyone else is fair game.”

Bopping me on the nose, he grins. “Good thing I’m not a number one pop musician tonight. I’m just a customer who is quite taken with your goods.”

And the way he rakes his eyes over my body lets me know that he’s not talking about the merchandise on the shelves.

Dammit. Why don’t I keep a pair of spare knickers in my bag in case I run into the handsomest man alive? Because the ones I’m wearing right now are ruined.

Sticking his head through the curtain and peering into the back, he joyfully exclaims, “There it is!” Seconds later, he’s pushing the broom around the shop floor, and I am both pleased and appalled.

Reluctant to let him do all the work, I watch him and squirm. Using the broom as a partner, he dances to the music, and I can’t help the giggle that escapes.

“I remember when you couldn’t dance at all,” I reveal, then clamp my hands over my mouth at my rudeness.

“Some would say I still can’t.”

“Screw ‘em.” I grin. “Listen, I’m about to count up the money for a night deposit. Are you planning to pay with cash or credit?”

Wincing, he bites his lip, resting his arm on top of the broom handle. “Oh yeah. I was having so much fun that I forgot I was here to shop.” He looks around at the merchandise. “You’re taking me out for dinner, right?” One eyebrow raises while the other stays in place. It’s a talent not many have.

“I believe that was the deal in exchange for your labour.”

“Then let’s eat first. I can tell you about those I need to shop for, and you can decide what would be most fitting for each.”

“Hmmm…” I tease, “Are you trying to get out of buying products from me?”

“Nope,” he grins, stepping closer to me. “Trying to let you get to know me more.”

“Who's to say I don’t already know everything about you?”

“Ah, I see.” The expression on Harry’s face is smug. “You wanna have a quiz? Find out what exactly you know and don’t know?”

“Sure,” I smile, “but somehow I’m not sure I trust you. You could easily say all of my answers are wrong, and I wouldn’t be able to contradict you.”

“Let’s start. What colour are my eyes?”

“Are you taking the piss? They’re green. That one’s easy ‘cause I can see them.”

“Okay, okay. You got one right. What colour are my lips?”

Which of course drags my eyes right to the body part in question. And they look lush. Soft. Slightly chapped, but not enough to keep me from…

Shit. I’ve gotten lost in staring at his lips.

“I didn’t hear your answer.”

My tongue dips out to lick my own lips, and he steps closer, his eyes locked on my tongue. Shaking my head, I dart my gaze back to his eyes, and I can feel his breath on my cheek. Leaning forward, he reaches his arm to my left, and I briefly wonder if he’s going to wrap his arm around my waist and haul me to him for a snogging session.

Which is when he grabs his coat from the counter.

“Let’s count the money so you can make your deposit. I’m getting hungry.”

Really? I'm experiencing a powerful thirst.

Author's note: Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed it, please reblog. I know not everyone reblogs, but it really helps writers out.

READ PART 2 HERE

#harry styles #my writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles reader insert #original writing

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captain-lessship · 1 year

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Bonding Over Dislike: Revali x Reader (Pt. 1)

You couldn’t help the glare in your face every time you saw Link and Zelda leaving the castle. You had been trained since birth and had a long bloodline of knights yet the short hylian was assigned to her.

Call it jealousy but you were quick to denounce every fault and mistake he made.

Which is what you were doing currently.

“Come on! Fight!” You shouted, twisting your spear into his wooden shield and ripping it from him. Your piercing eyes burned through him.

“You have trained. And yet, every time, you manage to fumble.” You sneered haughtily with despite the fact you were about to double over with exhaustion.

“It is your job to protect the royal family. I know of the pride you should take in this duty. But I do not see it in you.” You lowered your hand to Link, lifting him slightly before shoving him back down. “And I do not think I ever will.”

You were training late at night, many broken and dull spears laid scattered about. You hit the dummies with all the rage you had, regret of your treatment of Link building. But then a voice rang out from your soul, justifying your behavior.

“Excuse me,” you heard a familiar voice call.

You turned and bowed, “Princess Zelda, what can I do for you?”

“Why do you dislike Link?”

You were surprised as you rose to meet her eyes, “I’m afra-“

“He looks… sad when people mention you. I am sorry if I am wrong in my assumption but do you not like him?”

You thought, “It’s- Well, I don’t mean to come off as… insulting with what I am about to say but,” you looked at her. Seeing a friend now, not the princess, “I know I could do a better job but of course, divine intervention denied me the chance. It is not personal, as a matter of fact, if he wasn’t what I was born to be, he and I would be friends.”

The silence was long. You felt the sweat drip from your forehead, you wiped it away, gaze still fixed on Zelda. You saw a glimmer appear in her eyes.

She nodded, “I understand to an extent. I would like you to accompany me tomorrow, I believe you have been to the Rito Village before. There is someone I would like you to meet.” You had when you accompanied your father to gift a bow to their leader in a move to make a sort of peace alliance.

“Link will also come. I hope you two will bond and will come to be a semblance of friends because there is nothing I can really do.”

You lamented, “As you wish.”

It was cold, your breath steamed from you as your horse trudged on. Eyes flickering around as you heard the creaking trees. Sharp eyes darting to Link, adorned in his royal armor.

Suddenly, a whir of air caught your hair, instantly you pulled your spear out, ready to defend. But what you saw was oddly interesting.

A Rito was flying only a few meters above you, headed forward and slowing. He made the landing perfectly.

“Princess Zelda, to what do I-“ his eyes landed on you. The way you held yourself caught his eye. Straight posture and a proud aura. “Owe the pleasure.”

“I have a very important favor to ask, Revali. I completely understand if you decline.”

“What is it?”

“I want you to train them,” she pointed to you, “with a bow.”

Slightly offended you scoffed, “I do not need a bow.” She had been trying to get you to master archery for years. “I have mastered two other weapons.”

Revali laughed, “Just say you know you aren’t capable of learning it. It is a art form.”

You shot him a icy look, “Archery is for cowards.”

“And a sword on a stick isn’t?” He snapped.

“Quiet you two,” Zelda shouted, “You two are some of the most talented individuals I know. That is why I suggested this. We can only improve with each other.”

You groaned as you got off your horse, “Well?” You looked at Revali.

“She wouldn’t ask me to teach just anyone.” He said, “However, I will keep somethings secret.”

“So it’s settled! I expect to see improvement. In you both.”

While heading to the castle, Zelda cheerfully hummed to herself, which caught Link’s attention. He quickly signed to ask what was funny.

“Oh it isn’t funny. I just have a… feeling that this will be very interesting.”

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blues824 · 2 years

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If it isn't much trouble, could I have headcanons of the Dorm Leaders + Jamil learning that their fem! s/o chose to stay in Twisted Wonderland with them because she's an orphan?

Damn did I cry. What’s worse is that my friend and I were watching Your Lie in April while writing this, so we did it through tears.

Riddle Rosehearts

“Grim, where’s Y/N?” Riddle was a tad bit late in meeting up with you. You both had scheduled a study date, and he was making sure he was looking pristine. He wanted to look the best for his beloved rose, after all.

“Did she not tell you? Crowley found a way to get her home.” Grim was sad, so much so that tears were spilling out of his eyes. He tried wiping them away but they kept coming. Riddle, after hearing the news, was close to Grim’s emotional state.

The Heartslabyul Housewarden was rushing all over the campus looking all over for you. He didn’t care that he was breaking the rules by running in the halls: he’d go to Hell and back for you if you asked. He made it to the Mirror Room and saw you and Crowley hugging each other.

“Y/N!” He yelled for you. You turned and saw tears streaming down your boyfriend’s face. You opened your arms towards him and he hugged you like he was never going to see you again. He noticed that you had tears streaming down your face as well.

“Riddle! How did you know I was here?!” You said after you pulled away.

“YOU WERE GOING TO LEAVE WITHOUT SO MUCH AS A GOODBYE?!!!” He was turning red. He was so angry at you. Didn’t you know how much he loved you? Didn’t you know how many tears he would shed in your absence? Did the time you spent together mean nothing to you?!

“I wasn’t going to leave, Riddle! I have no one waiting for me over there! I’m staying for you!” You shouted as loud as you could. Riddle did a double-take. His eyes were wide and his tears halted the waterworks.

“...Y-You aren’t leaving me?” He asked hesitantly. When you shook your head ‘no’, he started trembling. You grabbed his arms so that he wouldn’t fall over, but he took advantage and pulled you into a kiss. He wasn’t a fan of PDA, but he was just so overwhelmed with emotion that he couldn’t hold back. The amount of relief he felt in that moment was astronomical.

Leona Kingscholar

“Oi, herbivore! Where are you?” He called while walking into Ramshackle. You were late to the Dorm Leader meeting and he only went because you promised you were gonna be there. Turns out it was all for nothing!

“She’s with Crowley. Old crow found a way to get her home,” Grim answered as he wiped away tears. Leona’s ears dropped and his eyes widened. He ran back out of the run-down dormitory and went looking for you.

He was running faster than he never had before. There was no way he was going to let you leave just like that. He looked in every classroom, in the crow’s office, but he couldn’t find you and he was getting more and more frustrated. Then he remembered where it all started: the Mirror Room.

When he got to the Mirror Room, he saw that you were hugging Crowley. He marched over and pulled you away. He had a hurt look in his eyes, but his face made it look like he was angry. You had tears running down your face.

Leona pulled you into the most passionate kiss you’ve ever shared with him. You felt all the raw emotions he was feeling in that moment and you couldn’t help but reciprocate. You felt his unshed tears. Unfortunately, there’s something called Oxygen and we need it to live, so you both had to pull away.

“Why were you going to leave?! Did anyone mean anything to you?! Did I mean anything to you?!” He was holding you by the shoulders and forcing you to look into his eyes. The tears started falling and you were surprised.

“What do you mean? You thought I’d leave you out of the blue?!” Did Leona really not trust you enough to at least tell him if you were leaving? “I have no one back there. Why would I leave?”

“I-I’m sorry. Just, please don’t leave.” He pulled you back into his arms and you both cried holding each other.

Azul Ashengrotto

“My pearl~ Where are you? You were supposed to meet me at the Lounge, remember?” Azul walked into your dorm and walked around until he spotted Grim. The poor cat was crying. “Grim? What’s wrong? Where’s Y/N?” His thoughts started wandering. Are you okay?!

“The old crow found a way to get Y/N back to her world and they left a while ago. She hasn’t come back yet…” He cut himself off with more tears and sobs. Azul’s heart shattered into a million pieces just by those words.

He ran as fast as he could around the whole NRC campus in search of you. You were the first person to love him for who he truly was, and he was not about to let that disappear. He had Jade and Floyd search for you as well. Then he goes to the Mirror Room to continue searching for you.

He stumbles upon seeing you hugging Crowley and speaking to him. For once, he threw all manners out the window and pulled you into his arms. He cried into your shoulder without any care, and he could feel you crying as well. After a few moments, he pulled away.

“I take it you’re not leaving? You would have said something if you were.” He said. The huge amount of relief he felt in that moment: it took a huge weight off his shoulders that he never knew was there. He knew that it was a possibility for you to leave, but he never actually considered it until now.

“My parents died a while ago. I have no one waiting for me. Plus, I have a wonderful life here with you, Azul. Why would I leave?” You smiled even though tears were still rolling down your cheeks. The cecaelia held your face in his hands and gently wiped your tears away with his thumbs.

“I love you so much, Y/N. Don’t ever forget that.” He pulled you into another hug and you quickly reciprocated it, squeezing him so tight. Neither of you wanted to let the other go.

“I love you too, Azul.”

Kalim Al-Asim

“Y/N! You didn’t make it to the party! Where were you?” Kalim waltzed right into Ramshackle with one goal in mind: to hang out with you! He missed you so much since he had classes all day and he decided to host a party in your honor for no particular reason.

“Kalim? She’s with Crowley. He found a way for her to get back.” There were tissues all over the living room, and Grim was in the middle of the room. The cat had the waterworks going and about 10 boxes of Kleenex.

“W-What?” Kalim ran back out and started running after you. Were you going to leave Twisted Wonderland? Don’t you know how much he’d miss you? Don’t you know how much he loves you? He couldn’t let you leave without a proper farewell party! He couldn’t let you leave, period.

He runs to the Mirror Room and sees you hugging the Headmage. He walks up to you and gets your attention by tapping on your shoulder. As you turned, you saw a wave of relief wash over your boyfriend and he shed some of the tears he held. He pulled you into a big hug.

“Please don’t leave me! I love you so much.” He whispered. For once, Kalim wasn’t happy. He knew this was serious. He held you tighter when he felt your arms wrap around him as well. His heart had never beat so fast and so heavy.

“I could never leave you, my love. I love you with all my heart. No one is waiting for me back in my world. You are the love of my life.” You started whispering sweet nothings into his ears in hopes of calming him down.

“Why aren’t you going back? Don’t you miss it there?” Kalim asked after a moment.

“My parents perished in a terrible fire years ago. I have no one over there. Over here, I have you, and I couldn’t ask for anyone better to dedicate my heart to.” You responded.

Jamil Viper

“Y/N? I’m here, my jasmine! I have the book,” Jamil called out to you as he opened the door to your dormitory. You both have recently been reading books the other recommended. It leads to very good conversation that allows the both of you to learn more about each other.

As he walked inside, he noticed sobs coming from the living room as well as tissues scattered here and there. He saw that Grim was crying and was quickly downing can after can of tuna. Grim never acted like this. But where were you? Were you alright?

“That stupid bird found a way to send her home. Y/N’s gonna leave!” Jamil felt dizzy. His whole world just turned upside down. You were leaving? He rushed back out and started frantically searching for you. You couldn’t leave!

He runs to the Mirror Room and finds you sniffling in Crowley’s arms. He quickly walks over and taps your shoulder to get your attention. When you saw him, you let go of Crowley and held your boyfriend. Both of you were hot messes right now.

“Please don’t leave me, Y/N. I’d miss you so much. It hurts whenever you’re not with me…” Jamil whispered into your shoulder. He could barely handle not being next to you during class. How in Twisted Wonderland was he going to handle never seeing you again?!

“I’m not leaving. I could never leave you, my snake charmer.” You responded softly. You both were entirely fragile and vulnerable at this moment. He was holding onto you as though you would disappear if he let go.

“Thank you, my flower. I love you so much it hurts.” He said after hesitantly pulling away. You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“I love you too. I have no one waiting for me back there. I have you over here and I wouldn’t change that for anything.

Vil Schoenheit

“Potato, you’re late. Where are you?” Vil called out. You always made it a point to make it on time and since you didn’t show up to the Pomefiore dormitory he got worried. His mind started wondering: had his crazy fans gotten to you? Has something bad happened to you? Are you dying?

Upon entry into Ramshackle, he hears sniffles and sobs coming from the living room and he sees used tissues all over the floor. He walks over and sees that Grim was the source of the noise and the Kleenex.

“...Headmage Crowley found a way to get Y/N home,” Grim had to calm down just enough to get those words out. As he said them, a fresh wave of despair hit him like a truck. Vil’s eyes widened. Were you going to leave without telling him?

He runs to the Mirror Room and sees you hugging Crowley while sniffling. He walks over and grabs your arm to get your attention. You saw him and were going to hug him, but you decided against it so as to not ruin his outfit.

“WHY WERE YOU GOING TO LEAVE?!” Vil screeched. He was beyond angry at this point. Why were you going to leave him without telling him? Did he mean nothing to you? He felt betrayed, to say the least. How could you?

“I wasn’t going to leave. If you knew me at all you would know that I would have at least told you about it.” You said. Did Vil really think so low of you? If he did, then who’s to say the rest of your friends didn’t as well?

“Look, I’m sorry. I… I just don’t want you to leave me.” The waterworks started working the water and Vil was so glad he wore waterproof makeup that day. He pulled you into a hug. He didn’t care about his outfit being ruined if it meant you weren’t going to leave Twisted Wonderland.

“It’s okay. I could never leave you. Plus, I have no family over there. You all are my family, and I could never give that up. You aren’t getting rid of me that easily, my love.” You both started giggling through your tears.

Idia Shroud

Grim walked over to the Ignihyde dorm. He figured your boyfriend deserved to know what was going on. He had two boxes of Kleenex in his paws. Tears were streaming down his face. He was running to the dorm so that no one could see him like this.

“Eep! Grim, what are y-you doing here?! Wait… where’s Y/N?” Idia asked after he saw Grim enter the dorm.

“The stupid crow found a way to get Y/N home. I need your help!” The cat wailed. Idia’s eyes widened in fear and despair. Of course you’d leave. Yet he had still allowed you to steal his heart and hold it captive.

Idia ran faster than he ever had before. Ortho was flying above, scanning the school to see where you were. When they got a ping from the Mirror Room, he ran faster than the speed of light. He couldn’t let you leave. Didn’t you know the story of Hades and Persephone?

When he arrived, he saw you walking away from the portal with tears streaming down your face. He pulled you into his arms and cried. The amount of relief he felt was insurmountable. You didn’t leave him.

“P-Please don’t leave me!” He whispered it like a mantra. His hold on you was tight, but you gripped him with as much force.

“I could never leave you, Idia. I love you too much.” You whispered right back. You buried your face into his shoulder. “I have no one waiting for me over there. You’re the love of my life.”

You both continued to hold each other until you calmed down to a few sniffles. You walked out of the room hand-in-hand.

Malleus Draconia

“Child of man? Where are you? You’re late for our nightly walk.” Malleus was a bit nervous calling out to you in the night. He usually had better manners than to just barge in, but no one responded when he knocked and he was an overprotective dragon whose thoughts jumped to conclusions.

He saw that Grim was crying and there were tissues scattered all over the place. Where were you, though? Did something bad happen to you? Were you alright?! His rationality tried to reason with his instincts, but it was a losing battle.

“Tsunotarou? Y/N’s with the Headmage. The crow found a way to get her back to her world.” Malleus’ eyes widened. He was dangerously close to snapping. Grim continued crying and wailing. It was truly a depressing sight.

He teleported to the Mirror Room and saw you looking at the portal with great sadness. Were you actually thinking about leaving without so much as a word to anyone? Top 10 anime betrayals. Number One: You leaving him.

He rushed over and grabbed your arm, pulling you into his arms. You were surprised, but you wrapped your arms around him as well. Malleus let a tear fall, whereas you were sniffling a lot. He didn’t ever want to let you go.

“Were you going to leave, Child of man?” He whispered after a few moments. It hurt to even ask that question, but it was necessary. He needed clarity.

“Of course not. I love you, Malleus. Remember our plans for the future? I’m going to be your queen and you, my king. I wouldn’t give that up for the world.” You responded.

Malleus let a few more tears fall. He let you go so that he could pull you into a sweet kiss. He never wants you to leave, but he understands that you might miss your own world.

“I have no one back there. I have you here. I could never leave you.” You said after pulling away.

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21jumpstreet-x-reader · 8 months

Text

Pretty Girl with a Pretty Boy

Summary: Tom & Y/n are set on a Blind Double-Date, but instead of having chemistry with his date, Tom seems to have his eyes on his pretty friend.

"Blind date? I don't need a blind date." Brooker rolled his eyes, before taking a drag on his cig. "Why aren't you taking your little friend- Uh, Penhall."

"He has a girlfriend-"

"Really? Him?" Brooker hummed in curiosity. "I never would have thought."

Tom rolled his eyes, "Do you want to come or not?"

"Is she pretty?"

"How would I know? It's a blind date," Hanson groaned, tired of this. He wouldn't have to be doing all this if his date hadn't had a friend. Hell, he didn't even want to go on the date; He only did it to get out of the house. "So, yes or no?"

"You know what, Hanson? I'll go."

Hanson was surprised, in fact he had thought Brooker would say no. Though, maybe it was a sign? No, this could never be a good sign. Not with Brooker.

---

Tom was surprised when he saw Y/n sitting with a girl, which only caused him to groan. Tom had no idea that Y/n was his blind date's friend. If he had known, he swears he wouldn’t have brought Dennis Brooker. That idiot didn’t deserve a girl like you, Tom did!

"Damn, I thought she was going to be ugly. I'm glad I decided to come."

Tom was starting to wish he didn't come, too.

"Oh, Hanson, what a surprise," You reached out your hand, causing Tom to quickly shake it.

"Oh, Y/n, you know you can call me Tom."

"I didn't know you knew Tom, Y/n."

"All Law Enforcement meet each other at one point or another."

Brooker sat down, popping on his elbows, "You're a cop?"

"DA."

"Ah, you get those bastards out of jail."

"Everyone deserves a decent defense, even the guilty. That's the law."

"Yeah," He takes a swig of his drink, "But, it's like you guys are saying we can't do our jobs."

You chuckle, eyeing your friend, "Well, when you don't, it does make my job easier."

----

Tom tried paying attention to his date, he swears he did, but he kept getting dragged by your conversations. It was getting intense and he was starting to sense some tension. If there was one thing Brooker was good at, it was pissing people off.

"Doesn't Internal Affairs deal with dirty cops?"

"Well, yeah, but they're not real cops."

"What do you mean?" You tilted your head, leaning on your hand. "Not real cops?"

"Cops aren't supposed to break the law."

"They do all the time and they get away with it. You must not be very high on the IAB podium or you'd know that."

"Excuse me?" He got closer to you, intimidatingly.

You straightened up, "I don't understand what your problem is."

"I have a problem with you giving a bad name to cops."

"A bad name? I don't have to do that. They do it to themselves."

Tom could see Dennis' hand twitch and he quickly swerved the conversation.

"So Y/n, why DA instead of Prosecutor."

Your friend groaned. She had noticed the way that Tom was looking at you.

"Um, well... You know... I've always been good at finding loopholes," You turn to your friend as she whispers in your ear.

You look at her, before nodding your head. You turn to the males, before looking for the waitress.

Your friend yawns, "You know, it's getting late. We should be heading out. Let's get the check. Where is that waitress?"

-----

You fiddled with your purse, annoyed at the dinner. Who did that Dennis guy think he was? You felt a hand grab your shoulder, and you grabbed his hand and twisted it, before dropping it and realizing it was just Tom.

"Sorry, Tom. I thought you were...Well, someone else."

"I'm sorry... You know," He tilts his head back towards the restaurant, "For Brooker. He's a.... You know, hard-ass."

"He's something alright," He smiles, before holding out his hand, "How about I drive you home?"

"No, it's fine. I'll take a cab."

"You'd rather get into the car with a stranger than with a cop you know?"

"I'm sure your date could use a ride, pretty boy."

He smiles, looking down at your hands, "Well, I was hoping for a different date tonight."

"Are you hitting on me, Officer Hanson?" You point at his chest and he grabs your hand.

"And if I am?"

"Well, I'd ask where's your car, Lover Boy?"

#tom x reader #tom #tom hanson #yandere tom hanson #yandere tom #yandere 21 jump street #yandere tom x reader #yandere tom hanson x reader #yandere 21 jump street x reader #21 jump street x reader #21 jump street

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dc418writes · 6 months

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•|Legends Never Die|•

✨Pairing✨: dark!Curtis Everettxblack!reader

Summary🪄: Curiosity doesn’t kill cats. It kills the nosey

⚠️: 18+ NO MINORS, chasing, mention of blood, abduction, minor bondage, allusions to basement wife, language, noncon touching

A/N🎤: Hey guys! So this is my little twist on the infamous Headless Horseman tale and I hope you guys like it☺️💕!

*DISCLAIMER!: although visual was made by me, I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest*

Everyone you interviewed in the small town warned you about going down that dirt road. How those who dared pass through that wooden tunnel were never to be seen again.

But you didn’t listen. Instead letting your need for the truth overshadow your caution.

Once you heard about the mysterious figure looming in the woods and read all the accounts from those young and old, your piqued interest wouldn’t rest. You needed to see for yourself if this horseman really existed or if it was just a boogeyman of sorts with stories being passed down from generation to generation.

Dead grass and autumn leaves crunch under your sneakers as you journey further into the wooded area. The cool air prickling your nose and cheeks while buzzards squawk overhead circling with their wings spread wide.

That should’ve been your sign to turn back, but your legs carry you until you’re meeting a withered cabin. Smoke rising from its chimney into the gloomy sky.

“H-Hello!?,” you call out, but there’s nothing. Whoever lived here clearly wanted to be alone being the only cabin out in this stretch of woods that you could see.

“I don’t mean any harm! Just wanted to ask some questions,” you ask as you reach the front door.

You knock twice, but again you don’t hear anything. Can just see a peek of the lone, vintage couch and coffee table resting on top of the decorative rug in the living room through the crack in the curtains shielding the windows.

The floorboards creak under each step you take - no matter how careful - wandering along the wrap around porch while your eyes focus on the woods with every crack of a twig and swish of leaves.

Meaning you weren’t paying attention when you tripped over the metal bucket; knocking it over as you stumbled forward.

A reddish-brown tinted rag rolling out along with a small amount of water tinted the same color pooling around your feet is the final straw feeling your stomach begin to sink and anxiety slowly rise.

Something deep inside tells you to hide when you hear the whinny of a horse along with its trotting hooves approaching from somewhere in the forest. It’s the fastest you’ve moved since your high school gym days setting your eyes on a decent sized shed a few feet away.

Luckily it’s latch is open allowing you to quickly slip inside just as whoever approaches the property. Crouched by the small, smudged window, you can see the black stallion being led by a person in all black themselves from their thick coat to their leather gloves and down to the boots on their feet.

A pumpkin mask with detailed carving covering their face.

It looks like it was made from the gourd itself. But most surprising - and fear inducing - a hatchet on their hip. Its blade stained with someone or something’s crimson blood that steadily drips to the ground.

“What’d I get myself into?,” you think watching as the tall figure rounds the house before stopping upon noticing the knocked over bucket and rag. Clearly now on alert that somebody was there how his head turns left and right.

Your heart rate increases as he appears to be coming towards the shed. (More than likely to put away his horse as you now notice the bags of feed by your feet.)

It’ll be impossible to run out the same way you came, so you hurry towards the back crouching behind a barrel near the corner. Your knees pressed into your chest to make yourself as small as possible just as the double doors open and both step inside.

Hands covering your mouth, you can hear them tying their horse away before filling its container with food and beginning to brush along its mane and the short hairs on its body.

A skid of a breeze across your face nearly startles you - thinking whoever arrived found you - until you see the plastic flap of the doggy door gently moving back and forth. It seems big enough that you could fit through, but you won’t know for sure unless you try.

So you patiently wait until you hear the double doors open again and the thud of boots becoming quieter with each step, signaling that you were finally alone and able to move again.

Carefully your arm goes through first then your head, but your opposite shoulder only bumps into the wall unable to pass. Shifting your body, you try again hoping someway you can make it through but your efforts are futile.

Just giving you enough of a distraction that you don’t feel the presence of someone behind you until it’s too late. Roughly grabbing your ankles and yanking you back as you scream.

You thrash kicking and swinging trying to get away, successfully hitting his crotch deep enough to have him groaning as he keels over on his hands and knees.

“Bitch,” he grits out as you scramble to get your footing to run out the shed. The horse whinnying and stirring about due to the new commotion.

Bursting out the doors, you keep running without any direction just setting your sights forward while trying to dodge limbs and trees along your path.

At the galloping not too far behind you, your heartbeat increases hoping there’s another house somewhere in these woods you can ask for help.

As your chest heaves and throat gradually becomes dryer from the air constantly rushing through, it seems you two are the only ones out this far leaving only one end in sight for you.

The stallion’s galloping grows closer and louder - as if it’d never get tired - while you feel exhaustion overtaking the adrenaline that once controlled your body.

You make the grave mistake of peeking over your shoulder trying to gauge just how close your hunter is not realizing your path was soon ending. Flying forward, your body tumbles down a dirt hill until you’re roughly thudding to a stop.

However, rather than hitting the cold ground you’re horrified to find a decaying body with its eyes wide and staring right at you. Some flies buzzing from them to you as if thinking you could be their next snack.

A deafening scream rips through your chest as you try to scurry away, echoing off the surrounding trees until something hitting against your head makes everything go dark.

Opening your eyes, you first notice the dark, wooden beams of the unfamiliar ceiling. Definitely older from their weathered appearance as one seemed to be a good hit away from breaking in two.

You try to move, but your arms and legs are bound to the semi-firm mattress below you with expertly knotted ropes you know you’d never get out of. It left you spread wide and fearful to what your captors next plan would be.

“You’ve done a lot of research.” The deep voice startles you, instinctively making you turn towards the corner to find the person chasing you earlier. They’re still in all black with the orange mask attached to their face as they look through your notebook of interviews and printed articles.

Had they been there watching you the whole time you were out?

“Have to say, I’m flattered,” they lowly chuckle closing the book and haphazardly tossing it on the ground. You see just how tall this person is when they stand and their head is only inches away from the beams above. It fills your stomach with nausea and dread how they slowly approach the bed reaching their finger out to teasingly trace from the post by your foot to your ankle.

“I-I’m sorry,” you cry with fresh tears dripping out the corner of your eye and down to the mattress below. A line of black left in its path from your mascara and liner.

Carefully removing their mask, the face underneath is surprisingly handsome. Near crystalline like blue eyes shielded by long lashes and a sharp jaw covered by an almond colored beard, you could honestly find yourself falling for the man in front of you if you met under normal circumstances.

His fingertips slowly trace higher - from your ankle to your calf and finally the inside of your knee - making your squirm and tears fall heavier while you plead, “Don’t.”

“Looks like you found your horseman kitten,” he smirks. “Too bad you’re little story won’t ever get published. Especially not with you tied up down here until I’m done.”

#curtis everett #curtis everett x woc!reader #curtis everett x black!reader #curtis everett au #curtis everett x reader #snowpiercer #chris evans #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x woc!reader

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nerdieforpedro · 2 months

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Do you know that hippo?

Part Three of the Rock & Doc Series

Tim Rockford x plus size OFC - Doc

Rating: Explicit for ending

This blog is for readers 18+ MDNI

Word Count: about 5.5k (things are moving along)

Summary: The engagement party of Doc and Kim's friend leads to some surprising discoveries. Gold it seems is Doc's color and keep an eye on those hippos. They've got major clues. Big things are happening at the precinct.

Warnings: disco, drinking, hippos, family dynamics, mutual pining, swooning, bad pranks, panic/anxiety, trench coat mention, blood, fatal injury, murder

Notes: We've got the more to the plot in this one! Keep an eye out for a mention of a Pedro character and the introduction of another. I've gotta thank @lady-bess (on Tumblr) for beta reading for me. Bouncing ideas off of @maggiemayhemnj always leads to good things. I hope everyone enjoys the twists. 😘

Main Masterlist/ Tim Rockford Masterlist / Rock & Doc Series

Saturday of the engagement party:

You already want to go home. You’ve just been dropped off by Tony, Kim’s beau of two years. She’s wearing a blonde wig, orange star shaped shades to match her orange strapless dress that she’s pulled up at least the fourth time after complaining that she doesn’t have enough to keep the dress up. The orange complements her mocha skin and since her dress is strapless, she was happy to show off her rose tattoo she had on her right shoulder. The heels of her white thigh high boots click as you both make your way to the large double doors of your mutual friend’s home. Samantha had gotten engaged to some producer who was filthy rich or had enough money to rent a space like this.

You didn’t need a wig. Your hair, when not slicked down with grease and tied with two different scrunchies, expands enough on its own to look like a seventies wig. It’s just not curly, your hair never did hold a curl to save its life. Kim thought it would be a good idea to pin a gold disco ball in your hair and wear tiny gold disco ball earrings to match. She also did your makeup which included gold eyeshadow, soft pink cheeks and a vibrant red lipstick. You wore a shimmering gold dress that tied behind your neck and had a gold chain that connected from the tie in the back down to where the dress hit your shoulder blades. The back of the dress was longer than the front with it hitting the back of your ankles. The front stopped mid-thigh and your gold bangles that donned both wrists jingled each time you attempted to pull it down. Thankfully, the dress wasn’t bunching anywhere that you felt. Kim told you to stop fiddling with it and to let the people see since you wouldn’t let your cherished detective see anything. You pinched her arm and the two of you bickered until you met the guests of honor.

Sam and her producer fiance were happy that you came and that you brought gifts, though you weren’t sure if they really needed a stand mixer since you were sure Sam didn’t know how to boil water. Maybe the producer…whose name you did hear three times but it never stuck, cooked or baked. The party ended up being fun though, there was delicious food, excellent music and the other costumes were a sight to see. At one point there was a disco ball that came out of the ceiling and everyone did the electric slide.

After the dancing when things took a weird turn, you stepped outside to get some fresh air. As the night went on, you started smelling weed and some other substances you usually tested for. You thought maybe you inhaled too much of the air inside but it called you miss a few times ... a man-sized hippo.

“Hey Miss! Lady! Ma’am!” The hippo keeps trying to get your attention and you scan the area to see if there's anyone else out here and if there’s anyone else they could be talking to. You see no one. Just you and this hippo, at least you can tell that it’s a costume. This has to mean you don’t have more than a contact high right? You’re just slightly dazed you hope.

“Yes sir? Or ma’am? How can I help you? I specialize in humans and not animals.” The hippo fails their arms and groans at your answer. You weren’t sure how else to put it without coming out and saying you’re an ME. You don’t know this hippo, they don't need to know that.

“You’re not too high right? I’m not an actual hippo. I need help getting this damn head off. You’re the first person I’ve seen who isn’t high as balls. Help a guy out, yeah?” You nod and watch as the hippo bends forward so you can reach the head. You pull and it comes off with some force with you stumbling back but thankfully not falling. The owner of the hippo head has fluffy brown hair and is shaking his head. “That feels so much better! Thanks! Fresh air! I missed it!” He has a beard that’s patchy but it doesn't quite have the gray that you like. He looks like he could be Tim’s younger cousin. The mischievous grin is one you’re sure you’d never see of the detective’s face though.

“You look familiar. Do you know-”

“Now just because you helped me get this head off, doesn’t mean I’m going to give you an autograph. You seem nice but you gotta pay for those. I have back taxes.” You cackle at the last part of his sentence and he raises an eyebrow. “That's not funny. It’s why I have a new manager and accountant. I hated that my damn brother was right. He’s always right, damn perfectionist. Like his shit doesn’t stink sometimes. That’s why his wife left and all he has is murder. Whatever lady.”

“No, no. I was going to ask if you knew a homicide detective, you look like him. A lot. I work with him so I was curious.”

The Tim-look-alike runs his eyes up and down, a fuzzy mitt on his chin. He seems to be thinking something, you're not exactly sure what. Some people just look like others and they’re not related. You could be wrong.

You adjust your glasses nervously and he points at them. “They’re blue! He mentioned a woman with blue glasses! So you’re her…he’s mentioned you quite a bit. You do the autopsies right…medical…specialist…something like that? Mentioned something about pens and menus. I didn’t really get that part.” You close your eyes. He told someone about the pens? Who was this guy? “You’re sexy. My brother’s an idiot or maybe he’s not. He loves his job too much is the damn problem. You’re already a lot nicer than his ex-wife, you single pretty lady?”

Blinking is your initial reaction. So this man…is Tim’s brother?! Your hunch was correct and he was related. You were thinking of a cousin maybe but not his brother. “Did you just ask if I was single? You’re wearing a hippo costume and couldn’t get out of it.” Your hands are raised like you’re pushing away the very idea of him hitting on you. The man in the hippo is not amused.

“That was a design flaw in the costume. Wait, I’m Dieter Bravo, I don’t need to explain myself. I see why he likes you, the sense of humor matches up. If you’d ever like to get to know the more fun of the two Rockford brothers, you should look me up. But definitely watch my movies, I need those royalties. I might paint about what happened here tonight. Thanks again sexy MD. My brother is a bit of a stick in the mud, but he is very nice to the ladies. Wait, what’s your name?” A fuzzy arm wraps around your shoulder and it’s not bad considering the cool night air. You tell Dieter and he comments that it’s sexy for a sexy lady. Your eyes roll as the pair of you decide to head inside where there’s heat and grab some punch. It’s warming you both from the inside out. Dieter and you chat about Tim and Dieter’s lives when they were both younger. Dieter took to the arts early while Tim focused on police work like their dad.

A fun fact you did learn about Tim: he enjoys photography.

Dieter explained it’s a hobby he enjoys because he can’t paint like he can. But he also admits that if his brother wanted to, he could have been a photo-journalist, but the call of shield was too great and it went on the backburner. Apparently one of the many reasons Tim and his ex-wife split was due to him wanting to make one of the half baths into a darkroom and expand it a bit. Bravo also informed Doc that his ex-wife was about as fun as putting on a wet blanket while you watch grass grow on a cool spring morning. That made Doc give Dieter a solid belly laugh.

You mentioned that you’d heard rumors of how this woman was but never really asked about her directly to Tim or anyone else. Bravo shrugged and sipped his punch taking stock of what you’re saying. It appears you don’t just like his brother but you respect him by leaving his personal business alone. As smart as he knows his brother is, he’s kind of an idiot. The fact that he knows something his brother doesn’t is a wonderful feeling. Bravo will make sure to remember this.

Dieter explains that he took his passion for art from their mom. She also taught English part time and loved Greek mythology especially which led to his legal first name. He didn’t believe it fit him until he became older and really leaned into the latter part of the Greek god of wine and revelry’s purpose.

“I’ll tell you pretty lady if you agree to do something fun.”

You squint your eyes at the younger Rockford brother. “What do you consider fun for me?”

“I think you should send Tim a picture of yourself in your outfit. Show him what he’s missing out on by sitting at home in his boxers or sleeping in his office gazing lovingly at his murder board.” This elicited you to choke on your punch and put a hand to your chest.

“I-I- who is that fun for exactly?! What is wrong with everyone this week?!” Knocking back the rest of your drink and pouring yourself more, you’re holding onto the table to keep yourself upright. “First the damn notebook, a bone song, now I find out and meet…”

“Name’s Dieter. Don’t say my real name.”

“Tim’s brother Dion and now you’re telling me to…to…why won’t anyone just let me fantasize?!” You take out your phone and shakily text Kim but she isn’t answering. You want to leave. NOW. Dieter pats your shoulder.

“Hay calm down. I dunno what set you off, but I was half joking. I think you might wanna call someone to take you home. You’re a bit too drunk.” He suggests as he guides you to a quieter room with a couch. You’re able to sit down and call Kim but she’s still not answering. You lean your head back on the soft fabric of the couch and close your eyes. Who else could you call? Just an Uber? No…you’re not alert enough for that. You could doze off at any moment. Alcohol tends to make you sleepy. Your phone slips out of your hand and Dieter grabs it before it falls on the floor.

Bravo has a bad idea. A very bad idea and maybe a bit mean. He texts Kim who has sent four texts asking where Doc was, that she’s okay and she had liquid courage to call Tim. He’s going to pick her up. Kim then sent various emojis with eggplants, bones, water drops and peaches. The second part of his plan had Bravo texting Tim from his phone that:

Hey bro, I met a very nice lady, maybe a few years older than me. She seems a little shy but the punch is very good. She might want to hang out a bit more after a Power Nap. She’s got some full lips and thick thighs, who knows? She might make a pretty third wife, third time's the charm after all.

Dieter snapped a picture of a dozing Doc and sent it to Tim. He waited. Maybe the text was a bit over the top but based on her outburst, his older brother has likely been a huge closed off idiot. Sadly he’s been like that since he divorced his ex-wife, he should have put more laxative in that woman’s coffee the one time he made it for her.

Rockford was in his office finishing up reports. Did he want to be? No. But it was this or do it Monday and Mondays sucked enough without extra paperwork. Plus he didn’t have anything else going on, only that his small black notebook was missing. He’d turned his trench coat inside and out three times and searched his desk, office, car and where he thought it might be in his house. He was going to do another sweep of the office before he left tonight.

His phone lit up but he paid it no mind and kept typing, putting the finishing touches on the fourth report of the night. A small smile crossed his face when he saw Doc’s name for the autopsy of the victim. His mind is drifting to thoughts of you again. He remembers meeting you when you first came. Hands cup the back of his head as he leans back in his chair. Tim’s eyes drift to his murder board and his ear itches. That’s odd.

He hadn’t been sure about getting a new medical examiner three years ago after Old Loaf, the previous ME had retired. His nickname came from his van which he put bread stickers on (not ever the identifying ME logo though) and he usually played classic rock and his favorite artist was Meat Loaf. Weird man, but ME’s usually are. When Doc arrived, it was an adjustment. The precinct had been used to that old bread van riding around and arriving to crime scenes. When Doc started she was first confused for an intern and not the new medical examiner, to be fair, they weren’t told anything about gender or appearance. But they could have at least asked, Tim happened to hear about Doc from the Captain and his wife over dinner. They had him for dinner from the times he used to double date with them along with his then wife.

Tim interceded between a senior detective and Doc because he kept calling her ‘young lady’ and Rockford could tell with Doc’s hands on her hips and her in his face, something was going to happen. He was pretty confident it would be the senior detective hitting the pavement as she wasn’t budging an inch. Slowly she started winning over the officers with her humor and knowledge, she even kept the loaves on the ME van and added stars, a mermaid and a catfish decal to it as well. They enjoyed the new flair of the van.

Rockford had thought her to be confrontational from her interaction out in the field but quickly grew accustomed to spending extra time in the autopsy room and office. Asking her questions, bouncing ideas off of her and at times, watching her work gathering evidence in the field and her lab. Tim had long reasoned that he spent time with Doc because of work. Over the years they worked together, however, he denied that their relationship was changing.

They’re colleagues obviously, but he knows the times you’re most likely to be in your office, learning about your music, trying to make you laugh, maybe doing a quick check of a few databases to see if you had any skeletons in your closet. There was some threat you made against your medical preceptor which is why he knew the detective was in more danger than you were. That didn’t bother Tim though, he can have a violent streak in him too if pushed. It was comforting that you’d understand some of the darkness even if it wasn’t quite in the same context. The pen thefts were weird but he enjoyed your eyes on him, watching him to see how he’d react. Now you’re in his car half the nights a week and he should ask you on a proper date but… you seem wary of him and not in the same way he is of you. Rockford could be reading into it too much, he tends to do that a lot more now. Maybe you’re actually wary of him in the same way? He could review his notes he took if he could find his damn black book.

“Rockford! What the hell are you still doing here? Go home!” Tim sits up and looks in his doorway. His balding Captain is there with his crooked toupee. He should just shave it off. Now that he thinks of it, he could dress up like Kojak. His wife would need to pick out his suits though, the Captain puts too many patterns together. The man is wearing a zebra print button-down, red pinstripe pants and a yellow tie. That’s what the Captain wears when not in uniform. His wife might be helping her sister with her baby again, he clearly picked his own clothes again. Tim finds himself thankful that he can match his own clothes without help.

“Sir, I’m almost done with some reports. Didn’t want to leave them for Monday.” Rockford responds. He picks up his phone to snap a quick picture of the Captain’s outfit, knowing Doc’s eyes would go wide before ending up face down on her desk in tears from laughing so hard. Tim swallowed. A quick flash of another thought flashed in his head of Doc face down in an entirely different situation. “Shit.” He muttered. The Captain nodded and left as Rockford saw some text messages from someone he didn’t expect. “He better not be asking me to stream any more of his movies. I’ve seen all of them three times. I told you to fire those two con-artists….” Rockford has finally opened his messages and it didn’t have to do with any movies.

Tim’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. He called his brother, seething and confused. When Dieter answered, he didn’t allow him to speak. “You tell me right now where Doc is. What the hell have you done…” The detective growled, making Dieter reconsider his plan. He knew Tim might be mad but had only heard that tone come out when he broke a guy’s arm for stalking Dieter early in his acting career before he blew up and thankfully before Tim graduated the police academy.

“Now see…what had happened was…I had a bad idea. Which I realize the full extent of now.” Bravo paused. “Your lady friend is fine. It seems she’s a sleepy drunk. I was going to poke fun at you but you’re clearly not in the mood-,”

“Dion. Stop. The. Bullshit.” Tim stated each word in the same simmering tone. He shut down his computer, put on his coat, and headed for the door to his office. “Address. Now.”

“Ahh…Okay let me just ask someone real quick. I was dropped off, you know.”

“Two minutes Dion.”

“Yup. On it.” Dieter is fully aware that per his request Tim calls him Dieter even when it’s just the two of them. The last time Tim called Dieter ‘Dion,’ he may have had one dumpster full of compost dumped on Tim’s ex-wife’s lawn. It was a gift since she liked to garden and constantly prune his brother’s dreams. His card had said so. Tim did not appreciate the gesture at the time. He did later though.

Bravo sent Tim the address and he plugged it into his phone. He knew the neighborhood, on the richer side of the county. Why was she there? How did she meet his brother? Why is she drunk? Now he knows she’s a sleepy drunk, and that picture… He’d seen it. How could Tim not think about it, sure she was asleep but she looked radiant in the gold against her skin. It would be a lot better with one of his cameras he had at home instead a stupid phone camera. Not now Tim you need to drive. Dieter can barely care for himself, how is he going to look after Doc? He can’t fight at all, no matter how the stunt team tried to work with him. Let’s just hope she’s only drunk. What kind of party would she go to where he would be there too?

Your head is spinning a bit but you see the fluffy hair and the hippo suit. You’re sitting…that’s right! You fell asleep. With all these people, at a party.

“I'm an idiot.” You groan sitting your head up, your body still feels heavy.

“Sleeping beauty is awake, your trench coat knight is coming. Could you tell him not to maim or murder me? Please? I gotta go to Milan to meet this screenwriter who might be able to get me in a Nic Cage movie he’s doing. It helps if I’m not dead.” Dieter gives you very pathetic looking eyes, but you’re not sure why.

“I don’t know who my knight is. What did you do?” You’re not entirely sure what Dieter is talking about. The room is still spinning a bit. You’ve sat up but you’ve hung your head to help with the dizziness.

“Why did I have to do something? You don’t even know me Doc.”

“Doc? You don’t call me that. It doesn’t sound right.” Your entire face contorts and Dieter holds his arms out whining.

“Tim calls you that. That’s your title, you’re a doctor. Or is it like a weird pet name between you two? I’m gonna ask him when he gets here. If he doesn’t harm me.” You pay no attention to his head tilt. Your body goes rigid, you’re hoping Dieter is just talking out of his ass.

“Wait…Tim is coming here? No, no, no,no,no!! What did you do? You insane weirdo hippo! Why haven’t you taken that off? You’re wearing something under that right? You’re not one of those….I mean. I’m not into it, but you do you Dieter.” Your surprise masks your panic for a few moments before it returns and to shoot to your feet. “Forget that, I’m not…I can’t see him like this. This isn’t…wait there hasn’t been a murder here has there?” A second wave of panic sets in, if Tim is coming here, there’s been a murder. You’re at a scene of a murder while drunk, wearing less clothes then you might wear to bed most nights and you’d have to explain not only to Rockford but the other detectives and officers why you’re here. Not a bad reason, but they don’t need to see you dressed like this. You’ve finally got everyone to call you ‘Doctor’ or ‘Miss Doc’ instead of ‘young lady.’ They’d never let you live this down.

Bravo rocks himself up off the couch and places his hands on your shoulders. You can’t take him seriously in that hippo suit. “You spun pretty fast. I sent him a picture of you while you were dozing and he’s coming to pick you up. Your friend Kim knows you’re going with him. He’s not happy that I took a picture of you so could you just, make sure I live? I mean think of it as doing your brother-in-law a solid.” You’ve closed your eyes while he’s talking and are shaking your head.

“This is…a nightmare…a damn nightmare…” You start laughing at the absurdity of it all. You almost wish Kim was here to sing her bone song and it would be a perfect nightmare. Dieter mentions that you should meet Tim out front, that way he won’t need to look for you and it may earn him a point or two. He also put the hippo head back on. If all else fails, he tells you to pretend to not know him as a hippo and he’ll just watch and then waddle away. You decide it doesn’t matter what Dieter decides to do, this is going to be so weird.

On his way out, Tim went down to Doc’s office where he got a spare key from the maintenance guy Joe six months ago. He had told him at the time it was for when Doc was off and that had a sub-ME come in who he had to double check behind. Or course, that’s not at all what Tim does, but Joe bought it because like his younger brother, Tim might be able to pull off some acting when he needs to. Based on what she was wearing, she needed something to put over herself. It’s way too cool for her not to and despite the alcohol she drank, she’d feel it when she got a cold later. On the drive over, he tried to plan what he would say, sure he was pissed at Dieter and he’d yell at him later about that. Would Doc be weirded out that he’s coming to pick her up? Should he have called Kim? She's Doc's friend but he can’t stand her. Kim’s good at her job and keeps things organized, but she’s a damn…well he wouldn’t say block. Just, she always interrupts with that smug look like she knows how he feels about Doc and makes little comments. Doc’s oblivious but eventually with enough of Kim’s words, she’ll understand that he likes her as more than a work friend. He’s sure he can’t have that conversation with her, especially if she didn’t feel the same.

Dieter leads Doc through the house, getting lost in a few rooms before they finally reach the main entrance. In full hippo costume, Bravo waits near the double doors, just in case Tim comes at him, he can hide behind one. He knows the stairs will slow him down. Doc stands in front of the stairs and holds her breath as she sees the brown Crown Victoria she consumes large amounts of Chinese food in pulls to a stop next to her. She walks toward the passenger side door, but Tim puts down the window. “Hey Tim.” Your voice is hushed.

“Wait. Don’t get in yet.” Something unexpected happens. It’s not that he gets out and opens the door for you or even that he has your lab coat, though you are curious how he has it since you lock your office before you leave every night. Tim says your name softly before helping you put your arms through the sleeves and he pulls on the collar so it’s a bit snug around your neck and by extension your chest. You’re left to look up at the man you’ve admired for the past few years, the same one you keep lying to yourself that it’s only admiration you feel for him.

“Tim…I’m sorry you had to come. I-I’m not usually… Thanks for coming. And don’t kill Dieter, just rough him up a little.” You give him a weak smile, you’re ecstatic that he’s driving out to pick you up, but feel horrible that you’re hungover and in a flashy gold skimpy disco dress when you see your detective outside of work. You wanted to have seen him in a more elegant outfit or at least something that didn’t have all your thighs and breasts out. Why couldn’t you have heard him say you name over a nice dinner? Hell even some Chinese food in your office would have been better than this, you’ve got the beginnings of a hangover and it’s not how you wanted Tim to see you outside of work. You’re not sloppy, messy and a tad obsessive sure, but not sloppy.

“Don’t apologize Doc. You’re entitled to fun after-hours. Just keep it safer next time. I was worried.” Rockford tells you quietly. His hands are still on your collar and run down to pull the lab coat snug around your middle which you flinch from his knuckles grazing your stomach. He calls your name again in the same soft tone as he smiles, “I’ve got one too. Not as soft as yours, mine’s a hard spare tire. Um…” Tim realizes he may have said something odd. He shouldn’t be referencing your body in any way but he has now. He feels like he put his own foot in his mouth, it’s not what he meant to say. “I..the gold looks perfect on you.” Rockford is making an effort to focus on your face, but his eyes drift to your lips, a bright shade of pink and even though he’s pulled your collar tight, he can still see your cleavage. There was more of it than he assumed was under those scrubs of yours. “I didn’t mean to mention…You’re a beautiful woman. You look good in anything, let’s get you home.”

If you could melt and fade away you would, where is this tender side of Tim Rockford coming from? Is it from pity? You could care less. It’s clear that he was looking at you, seeing past your usual scrubs, his eyes had scanned your form. Maybe this outfit wasn’t as bad as you thought and he’s seeing a fair bit of the goods as Kim would put it. Tim’s staring at them in fact after calling you beautiful. Does he… Is he attracted to me? I don’t think I ever thought this far ahead…dammit I’m thinking of that stupid bone song again. But I mean…

As Tim motions his hand for you to get in the car, the hippo who supposedly was worried about life and limb has a sudden outburst, “For the love of..?! What is this? You suck Tim!” A waddling hippo is coming toward the both of you continuing to berate his brother, “You’re going to do all that with her coat you damn tease? You didn’t even hug her or kiss her! No wonder Doc drank so much punch!” Dieter then turns to you, his large stuffed head bobbing about. “Is this how he is all the time?! I thought maybe you were being dramatic but I see you weren’t. This is swoon-worthy but you need to make it count big bro. Like she’s right here!” He points his gray mitts at you, your face feels like someone has put it under a lamp and it’s burning.

“Dieter, Shut up! Now!” You scream and get in the car, slamming the door. “Tim, we should go. Take me home please.” You’re mortified looking straight ahead in the car, hoping that he won’t ask. Tim’s a detective, of course he’s going to ask. What will you tell him? He ruined the moment…can I get another take without the damn hippo?!

Rockford shakes his head and pushes Dieter’s hippos head enough so he stumbles back but doesn’t fall. “Go back to the party, dumbass. This isn’t one of your movies.”

Dieter regains his footing and yells at Tim as he gets in his car, “You’re right it’s not! In one of my movies, she’d be a lot more satisfied than she is right now!” Tim flips the bird toward Dieter out of his driver side window and over the hood of his car.

As Tim drives off he sighs and turns on the radio. He has questions, but knows you're way too uncomfortable to answer any of them now. ‘I’m In Love’ by Evelyn “Champagne” King plays and Tim mumbles under his breath, “Of all the times…” Any other time I’d enjoy this song. It’s way too on the nose.

“Tim, I don't want to go home.” You’re watching the houses pass by as you speak. It could be the rum you drank, the fact that you spoke at length with a hippo who said he’s your ‘brother in law’ or that you’re now aware of how Tim sees you, at least in this outfit. “Can we stop and get something to eat? To soak up the alcohol, unless you’re not hungry?”

Rockford squeezes the steering wheel tighter, “Yeah we can. You feel up to talking while we eat at the usual place or you have somewhere else you want to Doc?” He’s keeping his eyes forward. If he looks over, his eyes will linger again and he needs to focus on driving. Supposedly.

“Where we can get a burger and milkshake.” Is your request and Tim agrees, making a few turns toward the diner you’ve both talked about going to but haven’t been yet. It was supposed be for when another big homicide case came through but, well this could be considered a large case of a different nature.

Back at the precinct, there are a few officers on the night watch milling about and taking calls. Things are calm, they’re looking forward to eight in the morning when their shift will end. One officer notices that the mascot for their precinct, ‘Sergeant Roderick Hipops’ named and gifted to the station by the Captain’s daughter when she was four, isn’t on the podium in the command room where the Captain will give updates and assign cases for the day. A couple of the officers decide to track the hippo down so they won’t be the ones that lost it. Their search leads them to the corridor outside of the morgue, where they find Sergeant Hipops, but he’s dipped in red paint. He’s wearing a navy police coat and a small hat in his permanent seated position. One officer points out that it’s too thick to be paint, it’s blood. Their search expands and crimson drops on the floor lead them to the morgue, where they discover a body.

Stevenson, Detective Tim Rockford’s partner, had a gunshot wound in the middle of his forehead on the slab where Doc normally performs her autopsies.

Part Two Part Four

Peeps who would let Tim take their photo 📸: @alltheglitterandtheroar @sin-djarin @morallyinept @yorksgirl @bitchwitch1981 @heareball @megamindsecretlair @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @magpiepills @yorksgirl @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @avastrasposts @clawdee @pascalsanctuary @readingiskeepingmegoing @rhoorl @inept-the-magnificent @pamasaur @agentjackdaniels @pedroshotwifey @tinytinymenace @anoverwhelmingdin

#pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #tim rockford #tim rockford fanfiction #Tim Rockford x plus size OFC #Rock & Doc #trench coat #A Nerdie fic #pedro pascal characters x plus size

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mable-stitchpunk · 11 months

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Going Home in a Box: Chapter 64- Teaser

“I’ve got to be honest, this doesn’t seem like a good idea,” Mike said. In a surprising twist, he was playing the voice of reason for once.

Of course, he was currently driving towards the Pizzaplex with a car full of animatronics, so he knew good and well it was too late to even pretend that he was the reasonable one.

“Oh, it’s not,” Marionette agreed. “But I don’t see how it is possible that it can be any worse than last time.”

Foxy and Charlie agreed from the backseat.

“And by that I mean: under no circumstances will this end up like last time,” Marionette clarified.

The grumble and hum of agreement responded again.

“Because if it does, I am throwing whoever is the cause of it directly into the nearest dumpster to make an example out of them.”

“I would’ve loved to see you wrestle Ennard into a dumpster,” Mike said off-handedly as he turned off the highway.

“Yer just built like that Schmidt,” Foxy scoffed.

“I get my kicks on route six-six-six,” Mike replied. “Speaking of hell, we’re here.”

“Not counting the thirty minutes it takes to get inside,” Charlie quipped.

“Nah, we’re gonna be halfin’ that. Freddy’s got us on a tight schedule, and we got a double birthday before lunch. We’re going to be leggin’ it less we want to spend our whole time walkin’,” Foxy explained. He shifted his legs in the tight confines of the space behind the passenger seat, Marionette already scooted up as far as he could go. “Let that be yer warnin’ that if ya guys get distracted with Jake ‘er Sun, ‘er whoever, I be leavin’ you.”

“And what happens when Freddy gets distracted with Sun?” Marionette playfully asked. Pulling down the passenger mirror and peeking into the back with it.

“Then I’m grabbin’ the boy and leavin’ ‘em both,” Foxy said. As unamused as he sounded, everyone in that car knew he wasn’t kidding.

They pulled up towards the back of the Pizzaplex, further down past Natalie’s car and closer to the back entrance where they would be heading in. They got out of the car and hastily hurried around back to the exit door and found it propped open.

Foxy led the way into the loading docks where Freddy and Gregory were waiting. The bear anxiously pacing around while the boy spun back and forth in the office chair behind the loading dock controller desk. Then the doors opened, and Freddy looked up to see Foxy sauntering in, tossing his arms open in a silent proclamation of his arrival. Freddy perked up with his eyes glowing with excitement.

“Foxy, you came back!” Freddy cried. Then he lunged.

“Ya couldn’t keep me aw- Omph!” Foxy was cut off by Freddy misreading his gesture and taking him into a big hug. It would’ve knocked the air out of his lungs if he still had them. After a second he recovered enough to chuckle and pat Freddy’s back.

“I missed you so much!” Freddy finally drew back but kept his hands on Foxy’s shoulders. His mouth open in an excited grin.

“Blimey, Freddy. It’s only been a few weeks,” Foxy pointed out. His voice low in a mixture of confuse and concern.

“It has been a long few weeks,” Freddy answered. His eyes briefly giving away a melancholy look, only for him to quickly cover it back up. “But now that you are here, are you ready for the raddest night of your life?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” Foxy proclaimed. He pointed his hook back. “Yar, I brought them too.”

Mike, Charlie, and Marionette greeted Freddy with two “Hey”s and an “Good evening”.

“Hey, guys!” Gregory chimed up.

“Ahoy, Lad!” Foxy greeted.

Mike walked up and tussled his hair. “How’re you doing, Kid? Staying out of trouble?” he asked.

“Kind of. Nobody’s caught me yet,” Gregory answered.

“That’s how you do it. You keep that up and you’ll be set for life.”

“Mike,” Freddy lightly disagreed.

“He knows I’m kidding,” Mike said, sending Gregory a playful wink. The boy smiled back, apparently won over by the ‘cool’ display.

“He knows you’re not kidding,” Marionette retorted. Gliding up beside him before smiling down at Gregory. “Nice to see you again, Gregory. I like your shirt!”

“Thanks! Freddy got it for me,” Gregory replied.

He pulled it out so it could be seen better. It was another Freddy shirt, but this one didn’t have Freddy himself but instead crisscross claw marks and a microphone, with a cursive autograph-grade ‘Freddy Fazbear’ in the corner. It was deep navy in color. Though the shirt wasn’t the only noticeable thing. Gregory seemed generally more put together, with brushed out- but still naturally tussled- hair and a face clean of band aids and lacking the sunken in marks that used to be prominent under his eyes.

Both Foxy and Marionette easily recognized the signs of a neglected child. Seeing those signs start to disappear off Gregory were both noticeable and filled them with joy.

Freddy perked up happily at Gregory’s showing off the shirt, then turned his attention to Charlie.

“Speaking of cool digs- Charlie, I notice your jacket! It is very cool. Did you get it for your birthday?”

“I did! It’s brand new,” Charlie said. Stretching out her arms to show it off.

“It’s a high-grade costume with everyday wearability. We had the ones who made Foxy’s coat make it,” Marionette explained proudly.

Both Freddy and Gregory looked at Foxy’s hoodie.

“Not this! Me pirate’s coat! The one back at the pizzeria,” Foxy interjected with a half-chuckle.

“Oh! Of course!” Freddy said. “It IS a good quality hoodie though.”

“Hasn’t died on me yet,” Foxy replied.

“Only smells like it has,” Mike quipped with a grin.

“That’s because of you-!”

“Hey Charlie, did you get our gift?” Gregory asked, ignoring the upcoming battle he had inadvertently cut off.

“I did, and I love it! I’ve got it set up on my nightstand and it makes for an incredible nightlight,” Charlie said thankfully.

“Gregory, we should get one for you! That way you will have a nightlight during the hourly recharge,” Freddy suggested. Gregory got a somewhat embarrassed look at this.

“Okay! But only because it’s cool, not because I need it. I’m not scared of the dark or anything,” he amended.

“I’m not either. I just like to leave a light on,” Charlie agreed to assure him.

“Usually, we keep the hall light on to see. There’s a difference between being scared of the dark and being scared you’re going to trip over something walking to the bathroom and chip a tooth,” Mike added on.

The mix of both statements making Gregory a little less self-conscious. The group started to make their way out of the loading docks and towards the elevator.

While on their way in, Charlie reached out to Jake through her radio.

“Jake, are you there?”

“Hey, welcome back! I heard you have a hot date up in the Fazcade,” Jake greeted with a cheery pep to his voice.

“Oh yeah? What’s it like?”

“I can’t tell you… That is, if I tell you, it will ruin the surprise. You just have to see it for yourself!”

“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be,” Charlie replied jokingly. “Then I guess I can’t tell you how far I’ve gotten putting together your gift.”

“Uh oh. I didn’t foresee this possibility,” Jake replied. “Guess I’m going to have to bribe you with information.”

“Give me a hint and you’ll get the goods.”

“Okay, let’s see… Well, first off: If you’re expecting the West Arcade to look anything like the East Arcade, it doesn’t. Expect a lot of stairs.”

“In this place? I already do,” Charlie joked. “So, I’ve gotten the chest section together. The frame, I mean, but I haven’t even started on the wiring-.”

As she was talking with him, falling a little behind to do so, Marionette decided to catch up to Freddy’s side and start his own conversation.

“How is Chica?” he asked.

“She is… managing. I do not know if Foxy told you, but she did not have her voice box replaced. I spoke with the technicians today about replacing it, but they refused.”

“What excuse they give fer that?” Foxy asked.

“They said… due to the fact that her upgrade was such a valuable piece of equipment, and that they are not authorized to replace it with anything else, they will not be replacing it. Not until higher ups tell them to do so.”

“I’m sorry, Freddy,” Marionette apologized remorsefully. Foxy patted his shoulder sympathetically.

Mike was silent. That was the most he could do. Listening from beside them, there was a lot he wanted to say- and a lot that immediately sparked frustration- but venting those feelings wouldn’t exactly help Freddy. Especially when he started venting them himself.

“I do not understand how they can be so callous. I understand the thinking process, to stop this from happening again, but… it is ridiculous to treat us like this. Monty is right, they would not treat human employees like this.”

“Agreed, but if they’re anything like the old Freddy’s they don’t treat the human employees much better. That’s how many of them wound up being the next line of entertainers,” Mike said cryptically. Marionette nodded in agreement.

“Only reason the employees ‘round here got it so good’s ‘cause there ain’t more than a handful of ‘em,” Foxy scoffed.

“You’ve got a point about that. It’s easy to ‘lose track’ of one of hundreds of employees, but if it’s one of ten, you’d think people would ask questions,” Mike agreed.

“Sometimes…” Marionette ominously half-agreed.

“But we are supposed to be part of the new and improved Freddy Fazbear’s! How can they accept that same behavior of the old franchise if we are supposed to be doing better? Safety first, then service. What they are doing to Chica is just pure laziness,” Freddy said. He sighed and then perked up slightly, “But for now, she is at least no longer in Parts and Service. Chica will be at the salon with Roxy tonight, so we will not have to worry about her hearing us. They are having a girls’ night out, but in!”

The conversation lightened up and thinned out as they continued to the elevator and rode up. Then headed out to the atrium and rode an atrium elevator up to the top floor, barely able to squeeze everyone inside.

“There is something I should tell you before we get to the West Arcade. There is a possibility that you may lose me sometime tonight,” Freddy warned.

“What? When’d that happen?” Gregory asked in surprise, turning around and looking up at him. Foxy also looked over in surprise, nearly getting a mouthful of shoulder pad in the process.

“It is true. Regretfully, I will no longer be in control…” Freddy said cryptically. “When I step onto the West Arcade dance floor, I cannot stop myself! It is a programming bug.”

“Ugh, Freddy,” Gregory pouted. Freddy chuckled.

“I have the same bug. I do a mean macarena,” Marionette chimed in. He then proceeded to do a very brief demonstration- one Freddy could barely see over his shoulder and somehow managed to dodge hitting Mike and Charlie in the process.

“Yar, I be partyin’ with a coupla dorks,” Foxy said with some fondness and strode out.

“But all jokes aside, I do have to get in at least five minutes of dancing to stop the irresistible urge to return myself to the dance floor,” Freddy remarked.

Foxy sent him a weird look only to see Freddy smiling, dead serious. He decided to not even question it; it wouldn’t be the worst Fazbear mandated ‘quirk’ he had seen.

Freddy got them through the Party Bot, and they started walking through the entrance hall outside of the Fazcade. When they were suddenly interrupted by a long leg with puffy star-studded pants stepping out from behind a pillar. The rest of the jester body slinking after.

“Gooood eveniiing,” Moon greeted. The wicked grin on his face appropriately matching his tone.

As suddenly as he appeared, nobody was that surprised to see him. At least not beyond a second or two.

“Hey Moon,” Charlie greeted.

“And hello to you too, Jingle Bell,” Moon greeted. His face rolling in a display of fondness that showed Sun just beneath the surface.

“Ahoy,” Foxy also greeted.

Marionette gave a chime and a wave while Mike got a little grin.

“So, have you been waiting for us long or did you beat us up here?” Mike asked cheekily.

“My time is very valuable, Mr. Schmidt.”

There was a pause in anticipation for a further answer, but Moon didn’t give one.

“Did you change your mind?” Freddy offered, finally breaking that silence with a hopeful warmth to his tone.

“I’m afraid not. Here’s the deal for you all to hear,” Moon announced. He tented fingers, made a motion and sound like inhaling, and then began to list off his grievances on his fingers. “No setting off any alerts, no rousing suspicion with any of the Glamrocks, no entering into the Hive Arcade, no annoying the DJ, no climbing over the railing, running down the stairs, riding down the railings, using fake coins, tokens, or any inappropriate coin-shaped objects in any of the machines…”

He paused for dramatic effect, then pointed at Gregory.

“And he is downstairs and in bed before three.”

“What?!” Gregory cried.

“My only offer.”

“I think that is a very fair offer!” Freddy agreed. Gregory looked up at him in betrayal before huffing.

“You would say that,” he grumbled.

“Just fer me own curiosity, but when’d you start calling the shots?” Foxy asked. He sounded more amused than anything. Or perhaps not amused, maybe a little smug, a shred of mocking in his tone.

“I have been calling the shots since the first night you got here. I just haven’t put my foot down until now,” Moon quickly corrected. “Don’t like Misss Smith fool you. I am the night guard.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” Mike agreed.

“Then you best follow my rules, or I will be sure to escort you out,” Moon tutted. He then, finally, stepped aside and made a sweeping motion back with his arms. “Now then… Enjoy your stay.”

The group passed by- Freddy giving him a wink as he did- and headed through the security door and into the West Arcade proper.

#Mike Schmidt #Marionette #Charlie Emily #Foxy #Glamrock Freddy #Gregory #Moon #Jake #West Arcade #Going Home in a Box #GHIAB #Chapter 64 #teaser #it is a programming bug

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ellegreenwxy · 2 years

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i didn't have it in myself to go with grace | suresh x mc

pre-villa | 3k words | lots of angst and miscommunication | enjoy x

“Suresh?”

He lifted his gaze from the bartop to find Cassie standing there, blonde brows raised in surprise. Just what he needed, to bump into Elle’s bestie tonight of all fucking nights. “Long time, no see,” he said before he knocked back the rest of his scotch, the amber liquid burning a delicious path down his throat. He should have been at dinner right now, sipping on a glass of it while he and Elle talked about their day over whatever dessert she’d ordered. But no. Instead, he was sitting at the bar by his office, feeling like a proper tool even though he had no reason to.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, sliding onto the barstool next to his own.

“I’m grabbing a drink, Cassie, what does it look like I’m doing?” he muttered, waving the bartender over. “Another one, thanks,” he told him, sliding his empty glass towards the man.

“What about you, gorgeous? Can I get you something?” the bartender asked Cassie, gaze flickering to her chest, and she smiled that sickeningly-sweet smile she pulled out every time she went out. The same one that Elle always rolled her eyes at because she only used it when she wanted something.

“Sauv Blanc. Thanks, hun,” she told him before focusing her gaze back on Suresh. “Late night?”

“Look, did Elle put you up to this? She’s made me feel shit enough already about having to cancel our anniversary dinner, I don’t need her best friend giving me crap about it, too,” he ground out. But he wasn’t expecting the look of surprise that flickered over Cassie’s features.

“Wait, what?” Before he could interject and tell her he knew he’d screwed up but it wasn’t as bad as he’d made it out to be and he swore he was going to make it up to her, she continued on. “You and Elle are still together?”

That definitely wasn’t what he’d been expecting her to say. “What the hell do you mean by that? Of course we’re still together. You’re her best friend, aren’t you? I know she’s not kept you that out of the loop.”

The bartender returned with their drinks and he watched as Cassie dragged her finger along the rim of her wine glass, looking somewhat…dejected? She was quiet for a few moments, her gaze seemingly locked on her drink before she exhaled and looked back at him. There was something in her eyes, something he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen from her before. She looked vulnerable and it was a jarring sight. In all the time that he’d known Cassie, she’d always been a bit of a firecracker, the kind of person that jumped into the water headfirst without even thinking of what might lie beneath the surface. She was loud and proud and she never really let people in; that was what Elle had always said about her, at least. It was why he’d presumed they were friends to begin with: Elle managed to balance her out while Cassie brought out the more reckless sides of her in turn.

“Elle and I haven’t spoken in weeks,” she finally admitted before taking a sip of her wine. Alarm bells started going off in his head upon hearing that and he had to do a double take. Elle hadn’t mentioned to him that she and Cassie weren’t on speaking terms; it was so unlike her to keep something like that from him. He could feel his stomach starting to twist with anxiety, a warning for him to walk away from the conversation now before he could find out something he didn’t want to hear, but he pushed ahead. He always pushed ahead.

“Wait, are you serious? She hasn’t mentioned anything about that to me.”

“Yeah, well, of course she wouldn’t have,” she bit out, and he narrowed his eyes at her.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Elle and I got into a fight a few weeks ago. She uh…” Her voice trailed off and her eyes flickered to her lap, slender fingers toying with the Cartier bracelet on her wrist.

“Cassie, what are you going on about? Just tell me. You’ve never not been straight up with me before.” He couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling in his gut that he wasn’t going to like whatever it was she was going to say, but he also couldn’t deny the part of him that desperately wanted to know what was going on. He wasn’t someone who liked being left in the dark, especially when it had to do with his personal life. With his girlfriend.

Cassie still seemed somewhat reluctant to tell him, but then she tilted her head back and finished her nearly-full glass of wine in one go, the empty glass clinking on the bartop when she set it back down. He watched her compose herself, watching the way her chest rose and fell as she inhaled and exhaled a deep breath, before her gaze fell on him once again.

“She told me that she’d hooked up with some guy she met at work but that it was just a mistake and she-she didn’t want to end things with you because she cared about you too much. I said that she needed to tell you––that it wasn’t fair to keep you in the dark––but she said she couldn’t do it. We fought. I-I told her it was selfish for her to not say anything and to let you just keep thinking that she loved you…”

There was more to the story. Suresh knew that because Cassie was still talking but everything she was saying was going in one ear and out the other. She told me that she’d hooked up with some guy she met at work. It just didn’t make any sense. Or did it? She’d been distant the last few weeks, spending more time at work and less time with him. She was taking more gigs, spending more time at the studio. Was she doing it so she could be with him? With the guy she’d cheated on him with?

He felt sick, his stomach twisted into a knot so tight he thought he was going to lose his scotch all over the top of the bar.

“Suresh?”

He felt a gentle hand on his arm and he blinked, raising his gaze to where Cassie was watching him with nothing but concern in her eyes. She looked at him like she cared. Had Elle looked at him like that recently? Like she gave a shit about them and their relationship? Maybe it was the scotch talking, but he was starting to think that she hadn’t. How could she if she’d been fucking someone else?

“I’m so sorry I had to be the one to tell you, I… God. I just assumed Elle would say something eventually. She’s a lot of things but she isn’t someone who hides things like this.” He was acutely aware of the feel of her hand on his arm when she spoke again, the heat from her skin practically burning through his button-up. “Suresh, you deserve someone better than her.”

“Someone like you?” The words left him before he could really think about what it was he was actually saying. Then again, why think at all? He didn’t need to make good decisions. Not when his girlfriend had cheated on him. And Cassie was pretty. Not just pretty, but she was sexy and gorgeous and confident. He’d never looked at her as anything other than Elle’s best friend, never allowed himself to, but maybe tonight he would.

“Maybe,” she said, and the slightly sultry tone of her voice, low and soft, helped to loosen the knot in his stomach. “I love Elle. I always will. But she fucked up and I can’t be friends with a liar. Especially not a liar who hurts people in the process.”

She was sitting closer now, leaning into him in a way she hadn’t been before. Her hand trailed down his arm until it was resting on his upper thigh, the feel of it there like fire on his covered skin. There was no coming back from this, he realized. If he walked out of here with Cassie, it was basically him deciding that he and Elle were done for. But weren’t they? She’d screwed someone else, had let someone else touch her and hear those delicious noises she made when she was turned on and ready to be fucked.

That fact alone was enough for him.

“Let’s get out of here, then.”

–––––§–––––

When he got home early the next morning, he saw her.

She was standing in the living room, her back to the front door. Her sandy blonde hair looked like a tangled mess, like she’d been running her hands through it for hours. She was wearing much more casual clothes than she normally did, leggings and a baggy sweatshirt, a pair of sneakers and mismatched socks adorning her feet. He rarely saw her like this, not put together. For a brief moment, he was concerned. Concerned for why she looked the way she did, wondering what might have happened to put her in this state. But then he remembered where he’d come from, and he couldn’t help but be angry.

She had cheated on him and she had the nerve to show up looking like a wreck?

He shut the door and the sound startled her into turning around, and he wished she hadn’t. Her crystal blue eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, her bottom lip reddened from where she’d no doubt been biting at it. She always did it when she was upset, like if she bit her lip hard enough she could keep herself from crying. As soon as her eyes landed on him, he could see the tears welling up in them, like the mere sight of him made her fall apart. Guilt, probably. Had Cassie texted her? Told her that she’d seen him?

“Elle. What are you doing here?” he asked, sliding his coat off before he haphazardly tossed it onto the back of his sofa. He tried to keep his tone cold, like he was unaffected by her being there, and judging by the look on her face it had worked.

She didn’t speak for what felt like minutes, the silence hanging in the air between them, so tense and heavy he wasn’t sure there was anything that could slice through it. “I thought it was a joke,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before fixing those blue eyes back on him. “Cassie sent me a photo last night. Of you in her bed. I thought…I don’t know what I thought but I thought it was a really cruel joke.”

She what? Whatever, let Elle think that he and Cassie had slept together. So what? She’d fucked someone else, maybe it would be good for her to feel the way he had when he’d found out about her little indiscretion. “It’s not like you have any grounds to be upset. She told me everything.”

“So you slept with her?” She sounded like she was in disbelief and he scoffed.

“What, did you think I was just going to sweep it under the rug? You don’t hear something like that and just brush it off like it’s nothing!” Was she serious right now? Did she really think he’d be so unaffected by what she’d done? That she could throw herself at someone else and he wouldn’t be hurt?

“My best friend tells you she has a crush on you and you fuck her?”

In that very moment, it was like someone had dumped ice water over him. Realization sank in that they weren’t talking about the same thing, not by a longshot. Cassie had a crush on him? She hadn’t mentioned that last night, not even once in the hours they’d been talking when they were sat on the sofa in her flat together. Was Elle just trying to cover her own ass? From the look on her face, he was becoming less and less certain that that was the case.

“Cassie told me you guys hadn’t spoken in weeks I––”

“Because she’s been ignoring all of my calls and texts! We got dinner a few weeks ago and she had way too much wine and she admitted that she had feelings for you. I-I tried to talk to her about it, to let her know that it was okay and I still trusted and loved her but she just left and I didn’t hear from her for a month.” This time, the tears in her eyes spilled over onto her cheeks. “Not until last night.”

No. No, no, no, this wasn’t right. She was making stuff up, trying to hide what she’d done. “Do you know what she told me? She told me you cheated on me. She said that was why you hadn’t spoken in weeks, because you refused to admit what you’d done to me,” he said, but the anger that had been so prevalent when he walked into his flat that morning had dissipated into practically nothing. It was hard to be angry when she was looking at him like that, like she had no idea who he was.

“So instead of talking to me, instead of coming home to me, instead of spending our anniversary dinner with me, you. Fucked. Her?” She pressed her face into her hands, shaking her head so rapidly he thought her earrings––the diamond earrings he’d bought her––were going to fly right out of her ears. “I can’t believe this. I can’t…you just believed her,” she said, and the words were like a punch to the gut as she lifted her head once more to look at him. “You just believed that I cheated on you. You didn’t even question it, you just…God, you believed it.”

She exhaled shakily, biting down hard on her lower lip. “Have you always had such little faith in me? That you’re willing to believe whatever someone says about me?”

“She’s your best friend, Elle! I thought-I thought she––”

“And I’m your girlfriend!” she shouted, and he couldn’t help but flinch at the pain that laced her voice. “But you didn’t talk to me. You took her word for it and you––” A sob tore its way out of her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut, clasping a hand over her mouth. Even from a distance he could see that she’d bitten her nails down to stubs. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d done that.

He had to stop this now. He had to make her see that nothing had actually happened between him and Cassie. He could fix this, he knew he could. “Elle, Elle, Elle, nothing happened between us, okay? We-we had a couple of drinks and we just stayed up late talking but I didn’t fuck her! I swear!”

“She has a photo of you naked in her bed, Suresh! You took her word for it that I’d cheated on you, well I’m believing the fucking proof that you did,” she said, tossing the phone towards the couch. He leaned over to grab it, face paling when he saw what she’d no doubt spent her entire night studying.

It was him, that much was clear, splayed out in Cassie’s bed, his arm tossed over his face. The sheets sat low on his waist, just low enough to look scandalous even though he knew he’d fallen asleep with his boxers on. But you couldn’t tell that, not in the photo, and he doubted that trying to reassure her would do any good. Cassie’s underwear was on the floor next to the bed, a lacy black thong that stood out like a fucking beacon against the plush white carpet. It looked bad. It looked really fucking bad. Especially with the text message that had come with it.

[text from: Cassie] told you i always get what i want babes ;) x

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Elle, you have to believe me, nothing happened between me and Cassie. Nothing.” He was actually pleading with her––fucking pleading, for Christ’s sake, and he wasn’t the type of person to plead with anyone––but it was like she was shutting down right in front of his eyes.

“Just like how you were so ready to believe me?” she asked quietly, and he knew then that she’d already made up her mind. But he’d be damned if he didn’t try.

“But this doesn’t have to be it for us. We can make this work,” he said, crossing the room so he could stand in front of her. He reached for her hands but she yanked them away from him, like his touch was poison and she didn’t want him to taint her. Maybe it was.

“We’re over.” She said it so simply, as if she were stating a fact. But it wasn’t a fact because he didn’t accept it. He couldn’t accept it. She was it for him. Sure, he’d fucked up but he could make it right. He always made things right and he always got what he wanted and what he wanted was her. He didn’t want Cassie or a girl from the pub or any girl in all of the United fucking Kingdom. He wanted Elle.

“We’re not over, Elle. We’re not. What, you think I’m just gonna walk away from this? From you? I won’t.”

“Then I’ll do it, Suresh,” she said, brushing past him to grab her phone off the couch.

She stopped in the entryway, by the small table that sat there, and for a moment, he honestly thought she might have been rethinking this. Stupidly, foolishly, he thought she might actually turn around and come back to him.

But then he watched as she took her earrings out, laying each one down on the tabletop with a clink he felt all the way down to his bones. Something about the sound felt like his fate had been sealed, like he’d lost. He never lost at anything but somehow he had lost at this. At keeping his relationship intact. But even as the heavy front door closed behind her, as she left behind her earrings and him, he knew he hadn’t lost her for good.

He was going to get her back, one way or another.

#litg suresh #litg s5 #litg ff #litg fanfic #suresh x mc #litg eitv

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 2 years

Text

A STUDY IN YOU, prologue

December 9th, 2017

Your legs were folded beneath you on Sophie’s couch when you mindlessly swiped: left, left, left, no, no, no.

A container of Lo Mein was half-eaten (and half-cold) on the coffee table in front of you, the $11 bottle of red blend you’d brought was now empty.

Winter was just starting to settle in New York as the Fall semester came to a close. Snowflakes fluttered out the window and Sophie jumped when you let out an audible gasp.

“Sudeikis is on Hinge?!” You flipped your phone around, eyes wide when Sophie’s lips twisted into a grin and she crawled towards you.

“No fucking way, oh my god,” she reached for the phone, held it steady for a moment when she inspected his profile picture.

Speckles of gray in his beard, the same tweed hat you’d seen him in a few times on set. Sophie wiggled her brows when you brought your eyes up to meet hers.

“Don’t make that face,” you warned your best friend, the proverbial devil on your shoulder and the metaphorical rock that helped you navigate grad school. Now her face fell and she looked incredibly unimpressed and fed up with you.

“What?” You laughed, clicking your phone shut and tossing it onto the couch cushion beside you. “Just because I had one stupid sex dream about him doesn’t mean anything.”

She watched you for a second, as if she was waiting for you to break. Just kidding!!!, you’d laugh, followed by a quick admission of your school girl crush.

“He’s hot as fuck,” she eyed you suspiciously.

Now it was your turn to narrow your eyes at your friend. Was she wrong? No. Were you about to admit that? Double no.

She let out a weighted sigh before she explained. “Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I can’t acknowledge a hot daddy.”

“Okay,” you laughed, picking up your phone again when you crinkled your nose. “That’s the line, you crossed it right there with the ‘d’ word.”

She rolled her eyes, reached for your phone and started tugging. “Give it to me—just swipe right, live a little you giant prude!”

“No way!” You laughed, sure she wasn’t serious. “He’s our professor!”

“Y/N, you haven’t gotten laid in a year and if your hottie advisor is on Hinge there’s no way you’re not shooting your shot.”

Sophie gave one final tug and pulled it right out of your grasp, the app gave a buzz in excitement to signal your successful swipe before she could even do it on purpose. “See?” She giggled, “the universe also wants you to get laid. I didn’t even have to swipe!”

You grabbed it back from her quickly, scanning the screen in a mix of horror and amusement. “And you seriously think one of our professors is a viable option?”

“You’re welcome,” she said with a smirk, ignoring your question. “Worst case scenario you just tell him your cat did it.”

“My cat?” you rolled your eyes, “I don’t think he’s dumb enough to believe that.” You also didn’t have one.

“Calm down, relax, get laid,” she shrugged, looking back at her own phone as if you were being dramatic and obnoxious.

You groaned, stared at his profile for a second as you tried to work out a plan. You figured that if anything, you’d just tell him that Sophie did it. After he had you both in a Film Criticism lecture this fall, there was no way he’d be surprised to learn your loud-mouth friend swiped right in your honor after a few glasses of wine.

And besides, people swiped right on people they knew all the time, right? A subtle acknowledgement--hi, hello, we know each other. Totally normal.

Or maybe he wouldn’t even see it. Maybe his profile was old and he never even came on this dumb app to begin with. Maybe he was too old to even know how the app worked and he’d be none the wiser. He was 40-something, afterall.

The sudden appearance of a little green dot by his name was a grim reality: no such luck.

“Oh fuck me, he’s online,” you muttered.

“He’s online?!” Sophie came close again, her cheek pushed up against yours when she grinned at the green dot, you let out another groan and covered your eyes in shame.

“Okay, maybe I should just message him and say it was an accident. Apologize, you know, since it’s wildly inappropriate to swipe right on your academic advisor.”

“Or you could just wait to see if he says anything,” she eyed you innocently.

You glanced at her sideways.“You’re actually psychotic.”

Your phone buzzed again, this time to inform you of a new match. Your stomach dropped. Sophie smacked you in the arm twice.

Another buzz, a new chat.

Jason Sudeikis (9:43pm): I guess now is as good a time as ever to let you know your final grade haha

Jason Sudeikis (9:43pm): You got an A

Sophie smacked you in the arm three times now, obviously excited. “Oh my fucking god!”

You laughed, looked up at her again in shock. “What the fuck do I say to that?”

“He’s flirting with you!”

“No he’s not,” you said quickly. “Is he?”

“Uh, I mean, he could have just ignored that you swiped and acted like it never happened. That would be the professional thing to do.”

You thought on it for a second, stared at his words on the screen and wondered where he was. Sitting in his apartment in Brooklyn? Watching TV? Grading final papers? You pictured the rimmed glasses he wore when he read, perched on his nose when he smirked at the screen.

No way, he wasn’t smirking. He probably thought it was weird and was trying to save you from embarrassment after an otherwise successful semester at NYU.

“You have to reply!”

“And say what?”

“Something clever, something sexy,” her shoulders bounced a few times in anticipation.

“Should I?” You smiled a little at your friend, only slightly annoyed by the way she fanned the flames. A wave of butterflies when you looked back at the screen and typed.

Y/N L/N (9:45pm): Will I still get an email from you next week or is this the official notice?

The green dot was still there, you waited a few seconds until a new message popped up.

Jason Sudeikis (9:46pm): I guess I’ll send an email

Jason Sudeikis (9:46pm): You know, just in good faith 🤷‍♂️

Sophie let out a noise of excitement, she elbowed you in the ribs when she leaned back against the couch, clearly satisfied with herself. “And you thought I was a psychopath.”

“I still do,” you shot her a glance, unable to fight the smile that tugged at your lips.

She left you alone at that, scrolled on instagram and complained about an annoying classmate before rinsing your wine glasses in the sink.

You checked the chat on the subway ride home, no response after your last message.

Y/N L/N (9:49pm): I’ll keep an eye out, then 👀

Oh well. You hung your coat by the door when it latched into place, toed out of your boots in your studio apartment in the East Village.

At least you got an A.

table of contents | talk to me & join the tag list

AUTHOR'S NOTE: A professor/grad school fic????????? uh oh.

#asiy #jason sudeikis #jason sudeikis fanfic #jason sudeikis fic #jason sudeikis blurb #a study in you

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pizza-is-my-buziness · 7 months

Text

Fictober Prompt Day Four! Prompt: "Do you even know what this means?"

Pairing: Elena Fisher/Chloe Frazer (Uncharted)

Read the story below or on Ao3!

“Just so you know, this is highly unprofessional.”

Elena mumbles the words against skin that still smells of sun and salt, of the beach where they’d spent most of the day, of the sheets where they’ve spent most of the night. Her lashes flutter, brushing against freckles she’d charted earlier with her lips and the tips of her fingers, and it earns her a faint laugh, throaty and low.

“Exactly what I was thinking, sunshine.” Chloe’s voice rumbles through her from where their bodies are pressed together, tangled into a double helix that makes it difficult to pinpoint exactly where one of them ends and the other begins. “I think I’ll have to report you to HR.”

Elena laughs, leaning back enough to give her a perfect view of Chloe Frazer, treasure hunter extraordinaire with the killer smile and hands skilled at more than scaling rocky outcroppings and turning the gears of some ancient puzzle. Chloe’s dark hair falls in twists across the pillow beneath her head, her eyes heavy-lidded and still mostly pupil, kiss-swollen lips making it difficult for Elena to focus on anything else.

It’s all too easy to figure out how she’d ended up here in the first place. A prize-winning journalist known for her integrity, her unwillingness to be swayed by a bribe or promise of a hefty payout, or by thinly veiled threats of danger. Of course, Chloe hadn’t used any of those things to get her to compromise her journalistic values. A crooked smile and offer of a drink had been more than enough apparently.

“I’m just saying,” Elena presses, legs folded beneath her as she leans back on her thighs. “I don’t do this kind of thing. Ever.”

Chloe blinks at her, as curious as she is confused, clearly attempting to figure out how to navigate this situation. “Look, it doesn’t have to be-”

“So you should feel special,” Elena finishes with a smile, more than a little pleased to have caused Chloe’s composed facade to crumble, if just for a moment. “Just so you know.”

Chloe smiles, that same wicked grin that had landed Elena here in the first place, in the hotel room of the subject of her latest documentary, and reaches for her. Elena goes willingly enough, skin still humming with the memory of Chloe’s touch, and allows Chloe to pull her closer, to guide their lips together, to none-too-subtly fit Elena’s body over hers. The sheets tangle around them, a frustrating barrier between her skin and Chloe’s, and when Elena attempts to tug them free, the rustle of paper distracts her from her mission, from the feeling of Chloe’s lips at the hollow of her throat.

Chloe gives a groan of protest when Elena shifts back slightly, pulling the papers free from the tangle of sheets, eyes widening. “Shit. I’m not sure my producers would love it if I had to tell them the centuries old treasure map got ruined because of…” Her ears pinken, a surprising flutter of girlish embarrassment rushing through her. “Well. You know.”

With a laugh, Chloe sits up, leaning against the headboard. “Oh, right. We wouldn’t want to tell them we’ve been getting up to…you know.”

“Shut up,” Elena mumbles, collecting the brittle, weathered papers, and carefully stacking them together once more. Most of the writing is in Spanish but there are snatches in English written in a careful calligraphy, annotations in the margins and reminders left behind by a man who has been dead for centuries. She pauses, unable to help herself, as drawn to the papers as she’d been the first time she’d laid eyes on them. “Do you think all of this is real? That there’s really a lost treasure of El Dorado out there?”

Scoffing, Chloe rolls her eyes. “Well, there better be. Otherwise all of this is just a giant waste of time.” She reaches for the papers, letting her fingers brush against the tattered edges, the creases that have forever marred the parchment. “The guy I took these off of seemed to believe in it, anyway. Swore everything we needed to find the place was right here in these papers.”

Elena arches an eyebrow, shaking her head. “Aren’t you worried he’s going to track you down? Want his stuff back?”

Chloe hadn’t exactly been particularly forth-coming about how she’d stumbled upon the supposed treasure map and documents that would lead any treasure hunter brave enough right to El Dorado, but it hardly comes as a surprise to learn that it hadn’t been in the most…honorable of ways.

But isn’t there a saying about honor and thieves?

And who is she to judge anyway? Knowing the acquisition of the documents hadn’t exactly been above board hadn’t stopped her from agreeing to go on this wild goose chase for the sake of a good documentary, had it?

“You don’t have to worry about him,” Chloe assures her with a grin, the type that sends heat rushing through Elena, pooling in the center of her belly. Chloe leans over to drop the papers carefully onto the nightstand before returning her focus back to Elena, letting her hands settle against the expanse of Elena’s ribs. “I’ll protect you.”

“Great. Thanks.”

Chloe’s fingers tip-toe across skin, moving from freckle to freckle, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “So you don’t actually believe we’re going to find anything?” Chloe sounds half curious, half amused by this idea. “So what’s the point in all this?”

Elena shrugs, unable to keep herself from arching closer to Chloe’s touch, pressing her body firmly into her hands. “Good television? Curiosity? A sense of adventure?” She pauses, considering. “This isn’t all that bad either.”

A grin spreads across Chloe’s face, one her hands reaching up to tangle in Elena’s hair. “Well. I’m certainly glad you were in the market for a clever, gorgeous, devilishly charming treasure hunter to be the focus of your show then.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Elena nods, sighing. “Too bad I couldn’t find one of those.”

Chloe scowls, though it looks far from convincing, especially as she’s pulling Elena closer into her lap, tugging gently to guide her in for a kiss. Elena goes without complaint, sighing into Chloe’s mouth as their lips meet, settling her hands on Chloe’s shoulders.

Unfortunately, that’s the moment that her phone picks to vibrate, lighting up impatiently from its spot on the bedside table and years of routine have her head turning in the direction of the device like some sort of Pavolvian dog. Unfortunately.

“Just leave it,” Chloe protests the second her lips are available to do so, the fingers not currently buried in Elena’s hair curling around her hip. “Aren’t you off the clock?”

“Well…” Elena’s head swims from the sensation of Chloe’s breath against her throat, from the feeling of Chloe’s nails brushing against her scalp, promising something far more interesting than an e-mail.

But…

Still.

“It’s from my producers,” Elena says and at least her apologetic tone is sincere. “It’ll just take a minute…I just need to…”

She leans over Chloe to get the phone, ignoring Chloe’s grumbled laughter and the fact that the movement only presses their bodies closer together. Instead, she swipes open the email, reading it over quickly and then slower once the contents start to dawn on her. “Holy shit.”

Despite herself, Chloe looks at her quizzically, abandoning her attempts to distract Elena by tracing nonsensical patterns on her hipbone. “Good news?”

Elena grins, tossing the phone aside and taking Chloe’s face between her hands, kissing her. “The studio liked the treatment I sent them, for the beginning of the documentary.” She’s electric, vibrant, luminous. Crackling with possibility. And some of it can even be blamed on the email. “Do you even know what this means?”

Chloe, for her part, looks slightly dazed, pupils blown, staring at Elena’s lips. “Uh…something good?”

“Yes! They’re going to keep funding the documentary!” Elena can feel her cheeks aching from the strain of her smile and the kiss she presses to Chloe’s mouth is clumsy and hardly a kiss at all. “We can actually see if there’s anything at the end of all those treasure maps of yours.”

“Well, that is good news.” Chloe smirks, reaching up to run her fingers through Elena’s hair. “Though if you want to keep me hanging around, you can just say so. No need to blame it on the treasure, sunshine.”

Elena shakes her head. “You’re a bit insufferable.”

Chloe smirks, shrugging. “I’ve heard that before.”

Elena leans closer, arms looped around Chloe’s shoulders. “Guess you’ve got to give me an adventure now.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

#Chloe/Elena #Chloe Frazer/Elena Fisher #fictober23

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high-justiciar · 5 months

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requiem;

A cool autumn night at the Dawnbane estate. Siphiah fingered the edge of her cowl, pulling it taut over her scarred cheekbone. She had not returned to Quel’Thalas since her last and gravest disfigurement; no soul, outside of her trusted comrades, had borne witness to her new form. No—her defeat. She squeezed her eyes shut against the tang of anticipated rejection, letting it pass over her tongue and twist her lips now, so that it would not show later. When she gathered herself enough to pass through the gates of her family home, her resolve was steel. A star falling out of the sky could hardly phase her, much less a stray glance or whispered gossip.

Measured steps took her through the courtyard, its bushes bare save for a few late-bloomed roses. She did not stop to admire, and soon found herself before the tall doors leading to the foyer. Inside, a servant took her cloak, though no words were spoken to the rarely seen visitor; they all knew why she was here.

Siphiah paused to lower her cowl, blood-red locks tumbling free from its confines. Her hair was long, longer than ever—she hadn’t cut it since her service in Darkshore, though the meaning behind this fact was unknown to her. Left down, it obscured her mangled ear somewhat, though did little to shield the burnt half of her face: the flesh from her cheek to hairline was roughened, discolored mauve. Her right eye had been spared, its sight narrowed by the surrounding scar tissue. All was healed by now, though no less shocking to behold considering that the Justiciar’s reputation, at one time, centered around her arresting looks.

Now there was no shade for the cruelty beneath.

Her journey into the bowels of the mansion was a relatively short one, though the weight of passing stares doubled its span. Her own gaze remained fixed ahead. Upon her entry into the eastern wing, she turned toward the threshold of the dining room and crossed it before she could hesitate.

At the far end of the banquet table sat her mother, and the children still under her thumb. To her right was Sirena, one twin of a set; then Silas, the eldest and least accommodating. At her left was Simeon, the second-born son who, despite being Siphiah’s elder, posed as much threat as a bastard. Given his poor chances at inheritance, he shrank at their mother’s call and took after their father in the frivolous ceremony that Silas couldn’t be bothered with. To his credit, he was genuine enough that the disdain leveled upon his sister’s approach was overcome by alarm, then pity for what was to come.

Sayana, the matriarch, rose a brow at the sight of her exiled daughter. No remarks were made regarding her appearance, which evidenced a close and recent brush with death; instead, she simply watched as Siphiah sat herself at the opposite head of the table. Silas and Sirena shared a glance that expertly smoothed any surprise they felt under a pretense of indifference.

The family had already dined, but a servant was quick to set a fresh serving before Siphiah: mussels steamed in a dry wine. Her stomach gnawed at the smell alone, but she didn’t think to eat. Instead she picked up a fork and pressed the pad of her thumb into the tines, knowing it was silver by the weight in her hand, how it resonated within her grasp.

Simeon regarded her like a tram careening off its tracks.

“I’m glad you could join us, Siphiah.” Sayana spoke, voice bouncing off the marble columns that fenced the dining room like an arena. Her gaze did not waver. “Late or not. I wouldn’t have called if it was not important.”

Siphiah lifted her chin, inviting elaboration.

“It’s about your sister.” A flat declaration which Sayana let hang in the air. “I understand she wished to follow you, which was well and fine as a fleeting interest. But she has not been home in months. Sirena is not able to reach her, which means her silence is…deliberate.”

Siphiah couldn’t stop her lips from conveying amusement. “You think I know where she is?”

“I think you were the last of us to see her. And to that end, you must have some idea of why she is reluctant to return.”

“That is already known to you.” Siphiah leaned back into her seat, leveling her response, and her gaze, upon Sirena. “Else I would not be here. These are dire stakes, little sister being careless with her reputation. Your reputation.”

Sirena’s expression instantly soured. Her ease to scowl was rivaled only by Siphiah’s own. “Please. I am not in the least affected by what she does.”

“Then you understand that I am not her keeper, either. Truthfully? I haven’t spoken to Simoné any more recently than you have. And if your eyes can’t find her, we are well and truly lost.”

Sayana made something of a wince, though her irritation didn’t reach her eyes. “A shame. Silas will be sent after her, regardless. We’d hoped you could point him in the right direction.”

Siphiah bit back what she wanted to say—no amount of direction could point Silas anywhere but backward. She finally brought her fork to her plate and twisted a mussel open with the flat edge.

“You know what I think? We should be happy that Simoné is developing a sense of self without any interfering influence.”

That was enough to make Sirena rise from her seat, chair legs scraping against the ancient tile floor.

“Damnit Siphiah, might you act your age for once? This is beyond a matter of pride or petty feuds; Simoné is not like you. Do not fault us for making sure she doesn’t end up shamed, or worse—broken.”

The barb was well placed, but the soft spot Sirena sought was no more. Siphiah ate and did not speak until she had finished chewing, her back straight, a bitter display of etiquette.

“I wouldn’t be so quick to track her down, sister. You will find that she has outgrown you, in both priority and ability, if you can believe.”

Sirena’s stunned look soon hardened. She whirled and stormed out of the dining room, signaling the end of their expectedly short-lived gathering. Simeon peered down at his empty plate, whilst Silas worked on burning a hole between Siphiah’s eyes. Sayana merely sighed, adjusting the ornamental comb that held her hair in place.

“Have it your way. I only ask that, if Simoné does reach out…let her know her absence is felt.”

Sayana rose then, with more grace than her daughter, leaving her remaining brood positioned in a foreboding triangle. The tension at either side of the table quickly overwhelmed Simeon, who excused himself to seek out more wine.

Silas spoke the moment their brother disappeared, in a biting tone. “I will not forgive you for this. For dishonoring our family so. For leading another astray.”

“You give me more credit than I am due, brother. I had no part in matchmaking. Trust, running off with a human was done on her own accord.”

“Though not so far from the example you have set. Light, we’d all be better off if the bastard who did that to you had tried a bit harder.”

Despite her preparation, she had no retort for Silas, staring blankly as he threw back his glass of wine and pushed up from the table. Still, nothing touched her heart. She waited until the sound of his heavy footfalls faded down the hallway outside, then enjoyed her dinner in the silence she was used to, and much preferred.

***

[tw: self-harm]

On her way out of the city, Siphiah stopped at the graveyard set by the Scar. Her mother’s missive provided an excuse for her journey here, though it was not her only purpose, nor her true objective: something else was gnawing at her heart, quite literally.

Her late fiancée had been one of few afforded a proper burial following Arthas’ raze of Quel’Thalas, one that Siphiah assured would not be disturbed by undeath. Still, her bones did not rest easy—not when steeped in the blood of so many kinsmen. This fact became apparent the last time Siphiah visited the Scar, during her ascension to a true Knight of the Grave. Sybil’s spirit latched itself to her own during the ritual, an unintended consequence. She had shouldered this burden for years now, secretly relishing in their connection, despite its inconsistency and imbalance.

It was a weakness. A remnant of her past that warranted release.

Siphiah could not call Sybil at will; her spirit was weak, evoked only by dire circumstance. Most reliably, when Siphiah was close to death—when the veil between them was thin. She last felt her essence during the encounter that had marred her so, when a great enemy struck her helm and sheared the plate like tin foil. Sybil’s spirit flamed to life, keeping Siphiah bound to her corporeal form whilst unconsciousness claimed her—else, she may have been tempted to let go. She trusted that there was a reason for her survival, though could no longer bear Sybil’s promise of security in good conscience.

Siphiah unsheathed the shortblade at her side, an exemplar of elven craftsmanship. It was the first weapon she took part in forging, guided by her father’s steady hand and ancestral knowledge. She’d taken a whetstone to it recently, ensuring the edge was primed and sharp.

She breathed deep, low to her diaphragm. The tip was set between her fourth and fifth rib, angled upwards. How many times had she aimed for the heart? She found it easily now, how heavy it weighed in her chest, a throbbing mass of stone. The blade pierced through her linen undershirt without effort. Once the cool metal drew blood, she gasped aloud.

Something inside her lurched.

“Sybil.” Her lips ached around that sound, that name. “You must part from me. I am nothing you know, anymore. I am no home for you.”

She hated the words as she spoke them. The blade sunk deeper as punishment, wedging into protective cartilage. The pain was blinding, but she stood firm.

The spirit didn’t communicate in any verbal fashion, though it buzzed with alarm. The further she pushed, the closer Sybil came to the surface, until Siphiah was able to grab her slippery essence. It was so cold as to feel hot—or was it the reverse?

Her blade dropped to the grave. Thirsty for blood, the earth quickly swallowed what covered it, and what dripped from her wound. She pulled Sybil's essence with great effort, her clenched fist trembling all the while. There sounded a hiss like a steaming kettle, then a snap like over-strained fishing line; when Sybil exited her, so did her breath. She kneeled and pushed her flat palms into the earth, smothering their glow. Only once the spell had finished—when she had forced Sybil to rest—was she able to gasp an inhale.

Her hand shook as she brought it to her chest, applying pressure. The wound needed prompt attention, though she lacked any urgency. Her gaze zeroed on the headstone, on the name etched into it, then the epitaph afforded to victims of the Third War. She hadn’t had the stomach to orchestrate more personal words, nor did Sybil’s family; too cowardly to face reality, the lot of them. She waited, willing tears to come.

Is it true? Are you still a coward?

A minute passed by. No tears fell.

#the justiciar #wow rp #tw: self-harm

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typeonpaper · 2 years

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𝐦𝐢𝐦𝐢 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐭í𝐧𝐞𝐳 ; ʙᴇᴀᴄʜ ʜᴜᴛ ᴄᴏɴꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟꜱ #4 !

which new couple do you think has more potential : callie & charlotte or luke & dylan ?

“ don’t know, don’t care. ” mimi takes a deliberate slurp of her bubble tea, expression cold enough to cut glass. “ it’s like we get it — you surf ! congrats ! do you want a fucking medal ? download a personality and find something new to talk about. ” sure, dylan had asked luke on a date, but so what ? that didn’t give him first dibs on her sexy little simp. she didn’t know what the fuck kind of game they were playing, but they still could’ve had the decency to give her the heads-up about operation sabotage lukimi rather than totally blind-siding her at the recoupling. again. whatever, she’s not bitter about it. “ i’m just so bored of twin double-acts coming and fucking everything up. it’s so 80s. go back to the shining, we don’t want you here. ”

were you surprised by either choice ?

“ yeah, callie and charlotte. i’ve literally seen slugs with more chemistry. it’s like, are you trying to set your sister up for a loss ?” she plucks a blueberry from her bubble tea and pops it into her mouth. “—and i just don’t get why she’d pick luke for dylan when it’s obvious we like each other. i mean, we’re all here for the same thing and props to them for not playing it safe, but you do not want me as your enemy.”

how do you feel about the public vote determining who goes home, do you trust them ?

“ i trust them more than the people in here.” that answer comes pointedly, stared down the barrel of the camera lens. her interview is becoming less tv filler and more goth girl investigates true crime youtube channel. “ everyone’s a fucking snake. ” mimi included, if her interactions with josh are anything to go by.

who do you think is most likely to leave ?

“ honestly ? i wouldn’t be surprised if josh went. ” shrugging her shoulders, she draws her knees up against her chest. “ just saying it how it is. i watch this show every year. guy’s like josh are not popular. i can see him polarising audiences, for sure. ”

which couple do you think most deserves to stay ?

“ romi and marcus are the only couple who are like, together...” she says it with a twist of her lips, like she’s taken a bite of something sour and unappetising. “ so them i guess. yawn. ” individually, she likes them, but as a couple, they’re so cute it’s kind of sickening. plus, they’re a threat. better to undermine the audience impression of how genuine they actually are early on.

how are you feeling about your current couple or single situation ?

“ well, i’m single because someone decided to steal my man, again, so yeah. pretty shit. at this point, i’m holding out for a bombshell who’s just like, tunnel-vision on me.” she hasn’t written off luke, but if his head turns, she wants to be able to claim that she wasn’t even that into him. crossing her fingers, mimi holds them towards the screen. “hastag send mimi a bombshell ! hot, dark, funny and DTF. ” she’s not so bothered about tall. there’s usually a lot of height-related ego ( see also : josh ) plus short kings are more attentive lovers.

#crackon:prompt

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middle-eastern-queen · 2 years

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Who is Big Mouse?- My theories:

I have a couple of people I’m suspicious of, and so I’m gonna name them and explain why they could be the big BM. Also I will warn you I will spell the names wrong cause I’m typing this quickly so bear with me.

1. Changho himself.

Obviously, the show is trying to portray the whole “innocent quirky framed dude” angle. So it is very likely that he ends up ACTUALLY being Big Mouse in a massive plot twist. Either he led a double life, but a more interesting one would be him having some personality disorder where he has two personalities so he doesn’t remember the other one (kinda like the kdrama Mouse). That would explain why he turns on and off his emotions constantly and why he lowkey has psychopathic tendencies. I read somewhere he even may have a twin somewhere (although I dont think this twin theory is likely). So the show can definitely pull a “haha it was him all along you’ve been duped”. At the same time though, the show has been TOO obvious that he’s not Big Mouse. So I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually wasn’t either, cause that makes sense too. A story about how he had to toughen up and rise up the ranks and be more powerful and dangerous than BM himself. They could take it there too.

2. Obvious option: Jerry.

Now, Jerry being BM can be pretty obvious cause of the actor playing him. He’s basically type casted into this “quirky and cute but psychopathic” role, and that’s basically most of his roles in the Kdrama’s he’s been apart of. So the second I saw him, I was like “yupppp quirky psychopath dude is here”! So, based on that alone, it can DEFINITELY be him. The cute innocent sidekick who was the main guy all along. Think about it, he’s in jail too. He Sees everything and reacts to everything. So he knows who to get rid of and who to control and how to do it. It’s also a pretty famous trope in Kdrama’s, so I wouldn’t be surprised one bit if it’s him. Which is the issue. It’s kinda too obvious. And it’s not necessarily all because the plot makes it obvious, but because of the actor playing him and the trope he’s been constantly stuck with. Needless to say, it can definitely be him and it’s pretty likely.

3. I’m gonna go on a MASSIVE limb here and suggest a WILD theory: what if BM is not a man but a woman. And not the mayor’s wife cause she’s too obvious. I mean she just “looks evil”, so I don’t think it’s her. What if its… Miho?

Changho’s wife! Yes, you read that right, I mean Yoona herself. I mean, think about it. She was always there. Always suspiciously had money to give to him for his career and studying. Not to mention, Someone is constantly keeping Changho alive in prison. Someone Has his back. What if it’s his wife, aka Big Mouse herself? What if this entire “innocent distraught wife” situation is a red herring. What if that’s her act. What if she KNOWS what’s happening and what she’s doing, and so she is trying to save BOTH of their asses? She’s trying to prove that Changho is framed and is not BM, and therefore having him walk away safe and sound also while no one suspects HER. She walks away as the distraught innocent wife of a framed lawyer. And no one will know a thing. Now, yes, it’s a bit out there I admit. But they can definitely take it there. Cause like, we know NOTHING about her outside of her love for Changho. Like legit nothing. She’s hella suspicious if you ask me.

4. Some random person we haven’t seen yet cause they can do that too. 🤣 But to be honest, at this point it can be ANYONE. I think after this weeks episodes (5&6) things may become a bit more clear.

So these are my theories. I actually LOVE this show and highly recommend it to anyone who likes the thriller/action genre. It’s a 10/10.

#big mouse #big mouth #kdrama

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t-shirtclassic · 2 years

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duskamethyst · 3 years

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broken reverie.

a/n: he’s not wearing glasses in this one.

word count: 3.9k

genre: smut, nsfw, college AU

warnings: taboo rs, slapping, spanking, choking, face fucking, brat taming (kind of), slight degradation, creampie, age gap (nanami reaching 40)

pairing: professor!nanami x f!reader

summary: professor nanami calls you to his office to ‘talk’ about your terrible performance in his class.

maybe you went too far.

or else you wouldn’t have ended up in his office.

but is this the outcome you coveted? yes.

the door creaks behind you before it closes again as you sit and wait in front of the big wooden desk. you were kind of excited when he told you to come and see him at his office earlier but now you’re having a whirlwind of emotions making your stomach churn and you don’t dare to look around to face him– even though he’s going to be sitting in front of you in a moment.

his shoes clack against the floor as he strides and sits on his chair. the air in the room feels dense when the male doesn’t say anything; as if you’re not in his presence to begin with.

he looks exasperated. a long, deep breath is emitted through his nostrils as he loosens up his tie from the collar. you only gawk at him in awe as he does so, but quickly snap out when he finally shifts his gaze at you.

“so, are you going to tell me what’s going on?” he finally breaks the silence. the deep, husky tone of his voice fills your ear and you hope he doesn’t notice your thighs press against each other almost immediately.

“tell you.. what?” you mentally slap yourself. you’re clearly aware of what he’s insinuating but you’re suddenly lost for words. there’s a huge difference between seeing him in class and being alone together with him. it’s even more nerve wrecking than you imagined and oh god, is his ac broken? because it suddenly feels hot.

nanami raises a brow, evidently unamused. “i had the courtesy to make time for you when i should be having brunch now so i don’t appreciate you playing coy.”

you gulp audibly, “i’m sorry, sir.”

“if it’s not clear to you yet, i’m talking about your grades.” he opens the drawer under his desk and pulls out a pile of paper before slamming it in front of you. you blink in surprise and flip through the pages, though you know you don’t need to see it when you already know what lies on them. there are a lot of red circles on the papers, namely yours, with huge unpleasant numbers on the corner ranging from 12% to 25%.

then he takes out another file which you realize as your student record throughout your semester and the subjects you currently take.

“i find it odd that you scored well for your other courses.” he skims through the pages. “you certainly didn’t cheat, i can tell.”

“no, of course not.”

“then, what’s the problem here?” his tired eyes bore into you as he waits for you to answer or come up with whatever excuse.

“well, i–”

“you’re doing it on purpose.” he snaps.

it’s as if time comes to a stop. your cheeks heat up with humiliation and you can’t bring yourself to continue to look at him in the eyes. although you’re aware that your silence means compliance, you’re still jumbling up words in your head to deny his assumption.

“are you going to tell me i’m wrong?”

“yes– i-i mean–” you stammer.

“then enlighten me.” he glances at the branded watch donned on his left wrist. “we have time.”

you shake your head, “i have another class soon.”

“skip it.” he quickly retorts. “i’m sure you have no problems with that. your grades are doing well for that one, but certainly not mine.”

sweat starts to form on your palms as you look down on your thighs, purposely avoiding his eyes that hold nothing but so much intensity. you’re weighing between two options; to keep on bluffing or come clean. you don’t think that nanami would let you get off the hook if you keep on lying and you’d definitely be bombarded with more questions, yet the outcome of the latter would be so embarrassing and you don’t know if you can live it down for the rest of the semester.

you’ve fantasized about being alone with him but.. not particularly this way.

gathering courage and taking a deep breath, you decide it’s best to just tell him the truth.

“you’re right,” you feel your ears burning, hands clammy. “i purposely failed your class.”

lifting up your head, you see the male grinning lopsidedly in his seat. maybe he’s pleased that you’re not wasting his time anymore, you’re not sure, he’s not easy to read.

“wasn’t that easy?” he folds his arms in front of his chest. “i have my own speculation but i wanna hear why you did it.”

“um,” you look down to your hands again, also half wondering what kind of bold assumption he has in mind. “i was dared by my friend.”

“wrong,” he scoffs. “and look at me while you’re talking.”

you sigh defeatedly and nervously fix your gaze. if you’ve learned one thing now, it’s that your professor doesn’t have tolerance for bullshit and he knows one when he hears one.

“i-i did it for.. attention.”

“my attention?” he emphasizes, maintaining his stoic persona to mask his amusement of finding out that his speculation turns out to be indeed true.

you purse your lips in a thin line, nodding your head quietly. nanami remains to stare at you as he ponders in silence. you can hear your heart beating rapidly in your ears and you want to break eye contact so badly but you’re certain it wouldn’t be wise.

“all that, just for a crumb of my attention?” he spits with a hint of venom in his voice. “are you happy with what you did?”

well, you’ve imagined him punishing you on his desk, fuck you raw or spank you with his belt until your ass turns red– not some serious interrogation.

“no, sir.”

nanami props his elbows on the table, hands clasped under his chin to keep his head up. the air around him becomes even more threatening but it somehow manages you to feel even more aroused, making your toes curl in your shoes. you definitely need to get out soon.

“you know, if i have even one student failing my class, i could get into trouble and be questioned for my performance.” he starts. “to have you doing that for your own selfish incentive is unacceptable, don’t you think?”

“i’m sorry.” you mumble with meek.

“besides that, you might have to retake this course again for your next semester and it’ll waste your time– or..?”

you stay silent to let him continue.

“or you were intending to be in my class again so you can see me?”

“y-yes.” you bashfully admit after one silent moment, knowing that lying will take you nowhere. “i’m sorry, sir.”

nanami chuckles, finding your naivety to be rather entertaining. never has he ever met a student like you, outwardly expressing their interest in him by failing their paper. he’s not too sure what you’re trying to get out of him but maybe he can put one and one together. it’s pretty common that younger women have an attraction to older men like him and your classmates are.. well, not exactly the best looking either.

“are you?” he smirks cynically. “do you have any idea how many students i have to monitor? how tiring my job can be?”

“yes. it was inconsiderate of me. i’m sor–”

“show me.” nanami cuts you off and leans back on his chair. maybe he can push you a little bit, he thinks. you owe him this anyway.

you blink, perplexed. “what?”

“you kept saying sorry.” he undoes two of the buttons on his blue dress shirt and spreads his legs apart. “talk is cheap. show me.”

you do a double take as he taps his thigh and waits for you to come over. you have the faintest idea of what he’s implying but your body freezes and your brain short-circuits as if paralyzed.

“you chose to lie again? you’re not really sorry, are you?”

“no, no! that’s not it. i just..”

an ongoing battle takes place in your mind– sure that this is a part of your deepest, darkest fantasy yet you’re just baffled over how quick nanami catches on to it. now that your debaucherous dream has become a vivid reality, you don’t know which is the right step to take.

“but if not now, when?” a soft voice in your head whispers. if desire could embody a voice, you think this is it. gentle, yet seductive as if it attempts to give you a push to pluck and have a taste of the forbidden fruit.

“how much longer do you have to touch yourself to the thoughts of your professor before you go to bed?”

“although this could be a one time thing, at least you’d know how it feels like.”

you slowly get up from your seat and make your way towards him. nanami’s eyes trail up at you, down to the floor then back up at you; gesturing you to get on your knees.

you settle between his thick thighs and look up at him timidly through your lashes before you bring your hands to undo his belt.

“no hands.” he quickly demands.

you lick your lips as you figure the structure of the belt and how you’re going to take it off without the aid of your hands. the taste of cold metal and leather instantly invades your palate as you feebly use your teeth to tug the front loop of his belt. your head shifts awkwardly side to side until you finally get to catch the buckle between your teeth, pulling it hard before the belt soon unfastens.

nanami only observes you indifferently from above, yet the large tent in front of you doesn’t conceal the excitement he currently possesses.

you take a deep breath before you continue on succeeding your quest. you twist your neck as you find and tug on the fabric loop that holds the button.

“i know you’re a smart girl.” he praises as he rests his hand on top of your head while you struggle to lift up the zipper with your tongue and grasp it between your teeth. the simple praise inflates your confidence and you become more eager to complete your task so you can claim your awaiting prize.

with valiantness, you finally lock eyes with him as you pull down his zipper completely to reveal the huge bulge pressing against the fabric of his briefs and the tip slightly poking out from the top.

“hm? you still have to take it out, no?” he smirks as he notices you gape at the outline of his cock.

you quickly pull yourself together and lean back up to the stretchy band on his waist. he hisses when he feels your tongue purposely graze against the flushed tip before you pull down the briefs by force to reveal the one thing you’ve been desiring for so long.

you press your thighs together as a dull ache forms in your core from the sight of his thick cock standing proudly in front of you. it’s nothing like you’ve ever imagined– it’s better and you’ve finally found it worth going through all that trouble of failing his class (and using your mouth to take off his pants).

“this is what you want, isn’t it?” he sneers, titling up your chin with his fingers, brushing your lips with his thumb and pulling the bottom lip apart so he can see a row of teeth.

“y-yes, sir.” you gulp and breathe as you wait for his next command.

nanami’s lips tug into a conceited smirk, “suck.”

leaning down your head to the base, you flatten your tongue underneath the shaft and slowly drag upwards in favor of reveling the veins on his hard cock. nanami lets out a sigh of content when he feels your tongue licking his tip and his hand tugs on your locks by reflex. you look at him as you wrap your lips around the tip, slobbering the tip with your saliva and his precum.

“fuck.” he curses under his breath and his head falls back when the warmth of your mouth finally engulfs his throbbing cock as you take most of the length inside your mouth.

you hollow your cheeks together, head bobbing up and down as you struggle to take more of his cock that you nearly choke whenever the tip hits the back of your throat, but the hand on top of your head grabs a fistful of your hair and he pushes your head down to sink all his length inside your mouth deeper. when you want to pull away, he only holds you in place and remains his cock down your throat.

“through your nose.” he mutters. tears start to well in your eyes while your saliva just trickles down to his balls as he screws his eyes shut and relishes in the pleasure that washes throughout his body. “i needed this so bad, you know?”

your whines only give him more stimulation and his hips jerk in response, “just wouldn’t think that a student– fuck– out of all people would choke on my dick.” he lets out a sardonic chuckle as if something just crossed his mind. “it’s wrong, but that’s what makes it feel so good, isn’t it?”

nanami keeps you in the position as he ruts his hips slowly into your throat. his eyes are closed in concentration and his lips part slightly in fast and short pants. you work on your gag reflex as you let him fuck your mouth, enduring the sharp sting on your scalp when he tugs your hair harder– at least you know you’re making him feel good.

“if i cum in your mouth, you’d gladly swallow, won’t you?”

you can feel his cock twitching when you let out a choke of assent from your throat but you splutter as soon as nanami abruptly pulls away his cock because of a sudden knock on the door that startles the both of you.

“get under the desk.” he urges and you quickly crawl to hide while he coughs and inches closer to his desk. “come in.”

you hear the door open followed by echoes of footsteps before it comes to a halt in front of his desk.

“didn’t i tell you to contact me before seeing me?” his voice is laced with irritation yet collected as he speaks. you can imagine the agitated look on his face, thinking it would be only natural for anyone to assume that he’s already having a bad day. and to them, interrupting the peak of his orgasm is most definitely not it.

without a second thought, you take back his dick inside your mouth. a spur of triumph swells in your chest when you feel his body jolts in surprise. you think it’s only fair since he has choked you with his cock and what perfect timing to carry out your petty vengeance when the man is busy advising his student.

however, nanami shifts on his seat to give you more access to take more length of his cock. he tries to stay composed as he feels your tongue gliding up and down his shaft but once the wet muscle prods against the slit, he emits an oddly sharp exhale. you can hear him almost stammering as he speaks and the way his tone changes to conceal the squelching sounds you elicit from underneath the table as you please his cock with zeal.

“so, i want you to fix the mistake and hmm..,” his hands ball into fists on the table as he takes a deep breath. “show me in class tomorrow.”

“sure. uh, are you okay, sir?” you hear the voice say. “you don’t look well.”

his eye twitches when your tongue wraps around his balls, taking one inside your mouth to suck harshly.

“yeah, fine.” he clears his throat. “thanks for asking.”

nanami only watches as his student turns to walk towards the door until the door closes behind him. once he’s sure that the student has left the door, he finally leans back on his chair in relief.

“fuck.” he groans, glancing down at you as you look up at him innocently with doe eyes and your swollen lips wrapped prettily around his balls. yet, he looks dissatisfied more than anything.

nanami grabs your arm and drags you out from under his desk until you’re on your feet, “i never took you as a fucking brat.” he lifts up your skirt and bites back a groan once he sees the damp patch on your panties. “did you touch yourself?”

you hum a ‘mhm’, feigning guiltlessness as he grazes his fingers on your inner thighs.

“you’re just asking for me to touch you here, hm?” shivers run up your spine when his thumb ghosts over your wet slit and up to your clit.

“y-yes.” your breath hitches.

“begging for me to push your head on the table and ram my cock inside you?” he muses, pressing on your clit as he watches you squirm. “is that what you want?”

“please–” you roll your hips slightly to soothe the ache on his thumb but a hand comes down harshly on your ass, gesturing for you to stop in a fierce manner.

nanami chuckles mockingly, “well, that’s what exactly you’re not going to get.”

a whine elicits from your lips when he draws back his hands to his thighs and you glance at his dick; still throbbing and leaking precum from the florid tip. well, at least he hasn’t put it back inside his pants, so you still have a chance.

“come on. you haven’t shown me how much you’re sorry.”

with your inhibitions already flew out of the window, you stand in between his thighs, hoist the skirt to your waist and tug your panties to the side before squatting down to smear your slick on his dick. sparks of arousal swim through you as you grind your clit on the tip before you sink down, gasping as his thick cock stretches your cunt and down until you’re filled to the brim.

you glance at the male expectantly, waiting for him to move but he raises a questioning brow at you, “if you want something, work for it.”

not exactly what you sought for, but it should suffice. you begin to gyrate your hips slowly, adjusting to his size before you can pick up the pace. you fight the urge to hold onto him for leverage, in fear he wouldn’t appreciate the crumple on his expensive dress shirt later.

as you become more delirious, you start to hump his cock vigorously, whining like a bitch in heat as you feel every vein and ridges on his cock brushing deliciously against your walls. nanami lifts the hem of your shirt and brings it up to your mouth and you quickly catch it between your teeth.

“the door isn’t locked, you know.” he muses, staring at your bouncing tits with half lidded eyes; mesmerized and thick with lust. “what’s going to happen if someone comes in and sees you bouncing on her professor’s cock like a little whore?”

a low, guttural sound rips from his throat when he feels your walls clenching around him in response.

“you’d like that, don’t you?” he smirks, tugging your bra down slightly and brushes his thumb against the erected nipple, making you mewl through the fabric in your mouth.

“you know you’re not supposed to do this but,” he brings up his thumb to caress your cheek. “you’re just so eager to please me, aren’t you?”

you sniffle in response, hands clutching on his solid thighs as you melt into his soft gaze before it’s gone in an instant.

“but i don’t like brats.” he sneers, drawing his hand away to slap your breast. “i don’t like people making my job harder. are you a brat?”

you shake your head, he slaps again.

“you act like one. stop lying.”

nanami tugs down the shirt from your mouth, a part of the fabric already drenched with your drool. his large hand circles around your throat while the other grips your hip firmly to roll your hip even faster on his dick.

“oh– feels good–!” you moan wantonly, eyes rolling back as you let him control your body and assert his dominance over you.

“fuck it does.” he presses your throat tighter on the sides, restricting air from entering your lungs but your walls squeeze harder in retaliation.

“bratty little bitch. clamping down on me like that.” he grits out and slaps across your face. what seems to be a rather harsh form of treatment, the pleasure filled sting and the lack of oxygen only fuel your arousal that you don’t even notice the way you hump on his cock has become more rapturous.

“getting off to this?” nanami slaps your other cheek before he lets go of his grip around your neck and you’re finally able to breathe air again. yet, he doesn’t spare you time to gather yourself before he promptly lifts up your hips and starts to pound inside your cunt relentlessly.

the position causes you to tip to the front and you immediately hold on to him; face burying on the crook of his neck while his cologne fills your senses and sends you into a state of frenzy.

“you like me using your tight cunt like that?” nanami grabs your ass for leverage, the angle allows him to fuck you so deep that you’re able to feel his cockhead kissing your cervix with each thrust.

“y-yes–!” you cry, the pressure in your stomach building up as you inch closer to an orgasm.

“like it when i use you to take out my frustrations?” he spanks the meaty flesh; walls clenching tighter on his fat cock and more slick dripping down his balls. “you just want to be my little cocksleeve, don’t you?”

“yesyesyes– please–!” your body starts to tremble above him. “w-wanna cum–”

“then fucking cum.” nanami rams into your cunny faster, abusing the spongy walls until the pressure snaps and tips you over the edge. you moan breathlessly into his neck, while your pussy gushes and creams around his cock.

“that’s a good girl,” he fucks you through your high, grunting and panting as he pushes through the pulsing walls in order to chase his high. “and good girls get rewarded, right?”

you hum in agreement, still dazed and swimming in ecstasy as you gawk at him with heavy lidded eyes; the sweat glistening his forehead and sharp eyes focusing on where your bodies join.

“then you’re gonna get some huge load in this pretty pussy.” his pace begins to stutter, nails digging deeper into your skin before his cock twitches and his hips freeze as he paints your insides white with cum.

both exhausted bodies rest against each other, chests heaving as you and nanami take time to regain composure and come down from your highs. he lifts you up slightly to take out his spent cock and he tugs back your panties in place, not minding the cum that dribbles from your quivering hole.

your legs tremble once you get off of him that you have to force yourself to find your footing as you fix your skirt while the older male pulls back his pants in place.

“do your best for your next papers, no more of that bullshit.” he fastens his buttons and straightens his tie before raising his hands to brush against his sleek, light brown hair that’s mixed with a few strands of grey. “but if you have any problems, just come and see me in my office.”

nanami falls quiet for a brief second to contemplate and you straighten your back when you once again meet his icy gaze, “after hours.”

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