#everything else gets thrown into my drafts or deleted listen

[ax-y10]

Goofiness

In which- Ranboo infected you with his silliness

Request: Something about reader and Ranboo being silly and goofy friends @colorfull-cord

A/n: I FEEL SO BAD THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG IM SO SORRY! I am not lying when I had so much progress, then it got lost, then I accidentally posted it instead of saving it as a draft and I then deleted it accidentally and now I have to redo it I did not mean for this to happen I'm so sorry pls forgive me

Chapter info: Goofy, silly, Ranboo and reader being dickheads, swearing... (expect that from all of my work), mentions of anxiety, mentions of body and facial dysmorphia, and let me know if I fucked up Ranboo's pronouns somewhere

Pronouns: None (You/Yours)

Masterlist:

You guys would have the cutest little handshakes and greetings

For example: A soft headbutt followed by a handshake, a gentle poke between the collarbone followed by a hug, a harmless, sarcastic insult thrown at the other followed by laughter

People would either look at you both with a confused expression, wondering what the fuck you guys are doing headbutting each other. Or they would look at you both with fond, silently admiring the two friends.

You would definitely just sit on a discord call late at night and listen to a bunch of their favourite Lemon Demon songs and they would listen to yours.

No doubt, you would do this for hours

Sleepovers would be like Tommy's sleepover vlog

Everything would be happening all at once.

Playing basketball and them having to help you get a slam dunk, begging them to donate some of their height

Taking their stuff and accidentally breaking stuff because "You didn't know it was fragile"

Watching random streams (specifically Aimsey's, Billzo's, Freddie's or Tommy's)

Sitting on the beds, painting each other's nails, attempting to make good food but ending up getting takeout

You guys would end up passed out randomly, you in your chair and Ranboo in such an uncomfortable position on the bed (no doubt you both woke up with the worst backache)

Streaming with them would just be chaos

Your little inside jokes made no sense to anyone else, and the both of you loved seeing Twitter explode over controversies for an inside joke you made.

You and Aimsey's little sister would definitely make fun of Aimsey's height because she's just so small and cute

And if you were up working really late at night at Ranboo's place, they would definitely just pick you up and carry you to bed if you fell asleep

If you were awake however, they would attempt to do what they do every other night, but you would just kick them in the knees and tell them to "Fuck off" jokingly.

But knowing them, they would just sit in the room for hours until you fell asleep so they could do that again

But imagine Tommy comes over and you both aren't inside but are out the back

And Tom tries to find you to tell you that Wilbur had invited you to a gig

And he eventually finds you both

And you were both throwing random clumps of grass at each other

But Ranboo accidentally hit you a bit too hair in the face with a clump of grass so you ran and grabbed the nearest heavy object, that being a scooter of theirs, and threatening to throw it at them

And Tommy just walked back inside and sat on the couch, waiting for you both to come back inside

I feel like if you were sick, Ranboo would just sit in your house or next to you or in whichever room you were in for days just to make sure you were okay

Like if you fell asleep on the couch, they would lay on the floor and just watch you, making sure that if you needed the bathroom or medicine or a water, he was prepared.

And if that did happen, they were always immediately off the floor and rushing to the fridge, or the cupboard, or the toilet, lifting up the lid, and getting ready to hold your hair back for you.

And you could never be more grateful for them in these little moments

And if they were sick, you would do the exact same

And they would always tease you with their height, hiding your phone charger on the very top shelf in the cupboard, or hiding the glasses and cutlery in the highest spots in the house

But if you ever got too upset, they would always back down from their jokes and apologise repeatedly

And they would just be so understanding if you ever had any sort of insecurity of your body, body dysmorphia, facial dysmorphia, or even just having a hard time , always being able to comfort your nerves better than their own

If you struggle with any social anxiety or anxiety in public spaces, they would just calm down their happy and cheerful mood and tone it down a few notches to their comforting one

The one they use on Tommy when streaming and being a content creator gets ahold of him

And they sit you down and immediately start comforting you

#Ranboo #Ranboo x reader #Platonic #SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG #dream smp #Tommyinnit #AimseyTV #Badlinu #bilzo #I wanted to make it fluffy as well #I tried my hardest lol #Headcanons #Ranboo being a silly goofy guy #how else do I tag this post? #mcyt #dream smp x reader #mcyt x reader

[lvllns]

i really do have one braincell and it’s only focused on greek mythology

#caiti.txt #me thinking about ares and how the iliad portrays him: #me thinking about how hera calls apollo lord of the silver bow: #lord of the silver bow is so fucking COOL though #gee apollo how come u get all the cool nicknames #i assure you however annoyed u are by my mythology posting it’s roughly 5% of what i want to post #everything else gets thrown into my drafts or deleted listen

[miki-snake]

Officer or Kitten?

📖: just some small thirst drabble/half-fic (?) on stripper!kuroo

⭕️: Smut, 18+!, stripper!Kuroo, unprotected sex (warp it before you tap it)

🔍: 1.7k+

A/N: I hate tumblr for deleting the draft i already finished😾. Nonetheless I tried to write it again but it’s not as satisfying as the first one😿. Also you can thank Ana (@mrs-kuroojinguji )for this bc she was the one who broke my thirst meter for stripper!kuroo;; Also thank you tetsu anon from Ana who suggested the stripper name kitten but i decided to turn that kitten into something else😼

━━━━━━━━━━    ༻✧༺    ━━━━━━━━━━━

When your friends told you that you were gonna go out and party as a celebration for acing the exams, you thought of a nice get together at your local bar or a karaoke night with broken voices and some kbbq beforehand. What you didn’t expect was a night in a strip club with a hot ass "police officer" grinding his dick against you.

Well, here you were, sitting in a rather large red velvet seat, while a tall, strong built, handsome man looming over you. He wore a blue police uniform that stuck to his body like a second skin, you saw a light outline of his broad chest, already teasing what was hiding underneath the fabric.

"Oi chibi-chan, cat got your tongue?", he taunted you, his sugar sweet breath fanning over your face as you felt how he traced his fingers up your arms. His touch left a trail of goosebumps, your body already anticipating what he would do to you. The throbbing in your cunt became more apparent as you watched how he leaned back up, hands moving up to the buttons of his shirt, slowly unbuttoning one after another. He smirked at you, what you could only describe as a cat-like grin, like a predator playing with his prey. Your eyes followed the continuous reveal of his glistening skin, the button up now fully open to present his scandalously defined abs. You wanted to feel his skin, feel the heat radiating off of him, feeling if his heart beats just as fast as yours. Your gaze fell down to the impressive bulge in his pants and suddenly the air felt even hotter than before, nearly suffocating, the blazing heat prickling against your skin. Just the sight of his covered bulge made your pussy clench, more slick dripping out of your cunt, wetting the already ruined panties. The dimmed lights fitted perfectly, accentuating his dangerous aura. But it was the kind of danger, kind of risk you wanted to jump into. You wanted him to pounce on you, devour you with his mouth like he did with his eyes.

You caught him fixating his gaze on your mouth and unconsciously your tongue slipped out, licking over your lips. A deep chuckle echoed through the room and he moved over to the side, pressing something on the touchscreen mounted at the wall. A light, rhythmical music filled the room and as he turned around, hips swaying to the beat, his hand moved down to his pants, opening them and you could already see that he didn’t wear anything underneath it. Throwing his shirt to the ground he turned around, slowly pulling his pants down and teasing you with the shake of his hips. He didn’t fully pull them down, they hung low in his hips and the urge to just stand up and rip those damn pants from his body overcame you. Looking at you, he must have sensed what you thought, that teasing smirk adorning his lips again, as he walked back to you. 

“Do you wanna touch me, chibi-chan? Well, I hate to say it but that would cost you something, chiiibi- chan.”, your thighs clenched at the sound of his deep voice, vibrating through your whole body. Looking into his dark auburn eyes you could clearly see the teasing glint, a burning fire that just waited to set your body aflame. Not that your body didn’t already feel like it was on fire, the sexual tension between you guys like thick gasoline pouring into your burning desires. Your heart was beating a hundred miles per minute, the thought of just throwing all inhibitions into the wind crossing your mind. “You know, just for you little rebel, I could make a special deal. How about the only price you’ll have to pay would be something like four to five of your orgasms? I’ll promise you, we’ll get you there pretty fast.”, his breath fanned over your ear, lips slightly grazing your skin and a shiver ran down your spine. 

The smell of his cologne invaded your senses, sandalwood and dark chocolate clouding your mind and you wanted nothing more than to bury your nose in his neck, while scraping your nails down his back. His hands moved up to graze against your arms, mouth trailing down to your neck as his breath caressed your heated skin. Kneeling on the cushion of the seat, both of his knees on either side of your right legs, he started to grind his raging boner against you. That was it, that was the moment you snapped and your right hand reached up to grab him by his neck, while the other one went inside his open pants, taking his burning cock into your fist. A strangled moan escaped him as you pulled him closer until your foreheads touched each other. “That sounds very generous of you, officer. Wait, no, I see no real officer, all I can see is a little kitten. So, behave my kitty cat, alright?”, you told him in a sultry voice, the grip on him tightening as you started to move your hand along his cock. 

Eyes half-lidded, you saw how the glint flared up into an inferno, ready to burn everything that was touching it. “Oho chibi-chan, you think you can make the rules here? Think you can handle someone like me?”, he tried to sound composed but his breathless voice and the throbbing cock in your fist told you otherwise. Without another word you flipped the two of you around, his back crashing against the seat, while you straddled his lap, grip never wavering. Diving into a searing kiss, it was clear that he wouldn’t back down so easily, a battle of dominance occurring between the clashing tongues. Rubbing your fingers against the tip of his leaking cock elicited a guttural groan out of him, his lips temporarily leaving yours just for you to follow him and suck his tongue into your mouth. You couldn’t wait any longer, the lust consuming your mind, so you pulled your soaked panties to the side, not bothering to take them off and rubbed his twitching tip against your dripping cunt. 

“Whoa chibi-chan, you work fast huh? I can’t let you run me over like that.”, he panted as he tried to regain his breath from the sloppy kiss. It wasn’t the first time a woman tried to take control over him but you somehow got him to stay put, making his knees feel weak from all the intoxicating pleasure. His tip moved along your folds, gathering all the pussy juice you had to offer and circled around your throbbing clit. He felt heavy and thick in your hands, your slick slowly covering his velvet skin. “I thought I told you to behave, kitten? How about you stop talking and use your mouth for something actually useful.” You grabbed him by his hair and shoved his face into your chest, his mouth automatically finding its way to your nipple, lips closing around it and sucking the hardened bud into his mouth. “Yeah, good kitten, I knew you could learn to listen AH-.”, you teased him but it was cut off by his teeth biting onto your nipple, the sharp sting shooting down to your pussy, making it clench around nothing, more of your sweet arousal flowing out. 

You glared down at him just to find him with a smug face looking back up at you, mouth still working on your bud. “You think you’re that clever huh?” Without another word you slammed yourself down onto his cock, both of you letting out a deep moan. Throwing your head back from all the stimulation you slightly regretted the decision to try and put everything in at once. Your pussy was burning from the stretch but it was a good ache, his cock snuggly fitting into your tight cunny and the veins rubbing against your walls. You both panted like animals in heat, driven by nothing but your carnal desire. Lifting your hips up until only his head was inside of you, you dropped yourself again, his cock bottoming out in your pussy. The sight in front of you nearly made you moan out, he looked at you with half-lidded eyes, lips slightly apart and a small trail of drool slipped out of his mouth. 

Both your breathings were ragged as you sped up the pace, the sound of skin slapping filling the room along with your cries and his stifled groans. The need to hear him scream for you made you rip his hand away from his mouth and pin his wrists against the wall behind him. “Come on, be a good kitten and mewl for me.”, you told him in a wavering voice, his cock hitting the right spot deep inside of you. The moment you said it he let out a string of curses, moaning like the mess he was. You two moved in sync, his hips starting to thrust back up into you and no matter how often he went inside of you, a light burn from the stretch still prickled in your cunt. 

The build up wasn’t slow, it all came crashing down. His cock thrusted deeper and deeper into your pussy, shaping it into his own fuckhole as your pussy clamped down on him. Your walls closed down on him, while his cock started to swell up, both of you nearing the high the two of you desperately chased. He was wildly twitching inside of you and you felt even fuller than before. A particular hard thrust against your g-spot made you see stars, the sight of yours spotting as you tumbled over the edge. Your pussy clenched down on him in a vice grip, unabling him from moving as you milked every single drop out of him. Spurt after spurt bursted out into your pussy, painting your walls white as your slick gushed out of your cunt, flowing down his cock. His lap was drenched with both of your juices, a mess made by the moaning mess you two were. He had his eyes closed, head thrown back as his groans slowly faded, hips still twitching from the aftershock. Your walls were also still fluttering from the fading high, slowly coming back down to earth. Exhausted you fell face first into his chest and he caught you in his arms, a small chuckle rumbling through his chest.

“The name is Kuroo by the way but I’m okay with you calling me kitten.”

#haikyuu smut #kuroo x reader #haikyuu #kuroo smut #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader smut #haikyuu!! #hq #Itadakimasu 🍴

[hubbytaeil]

4, 23, 70 with doyoung

Doyoung + #4 I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified, #23 Can I kiss you?, #70 I know I should’t but I miss you

genre: angst

word count: 2308

summary: Doyoung thinks him disappearing from your life is best shot you have at happiness, until he is faced with the harsh reality.

ʷᵉ'ʳᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵗʷᵒ ˢˡᵒʷ ᵈᵃⁿᶜᵉʳˢ ˡᵃˢᵗ ᵒⁿᵉˢ ᵒᵘᵗ

There wasn’t any reason for Doyoung not to accept an invitation to dinner from you. In the few seconds it took him to read your message he seemed to forget how you didn’t talk for months after the announcement of your engagement. He had congratulated you, of course, even if the sight of the astounding rock adorning your hand had broken him down. Perhaps that was when Doyoung realised that, somewhere along the way, to him you had become more than a good friend. 

The way your eyes gleamed while glancing at your future husband was the most beautiful yet heart-breaking scene Doyoung had ever witnessed. He truly was happy for you; he was glad to finally see you settling down. Yet, that night, there was bitterness in every sip of champagne, in every laughter exchanged, in every single look he would steal from you from across the table. He avoided the word ‘love’ at all costs when he would explain his situation to his friends, frightened that pronouncing it would make it real. It would’ve made the pain tangible; it would’ve pervaded every corner of his mind; it would’ve made him avoid every street where he could run into you. Doyoung cared for you, that never changed, but he also cared for his heart to remain intact. That night he had walked home alone, his phone in between his fingers, busy typing and deleting everything that would fill the empty message.

‘I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.’  

Doyoung read the unsent message over and over, but the tipsiness didn’t get the best of him. He took pride in having chosen your happiness instead of his. He quickly deleted the draft. As he made his way down the street, he looked up at the starless sky. He was smiling but there were tears in eyes.  

Doyoung could feel his every step get heavier and heavier. Why were you even meeting up in the first place? There were just unsolved questions clouding his mind. Moreover, he was troubling himself by what he was going to say. A part of him wanted to come clean, confess all of his burdens.  

I know I shoudn’t but I miss you. That was going to be his opening line. Another part of him would never want you to be part of his despair. You were going to get married and have a beautiful life, it didn’t matter if Doyoung was not going to be in it. He stopped his grave walk when he reached the entrance of the restaurant. You could be seen through the massive glass windows, dressed in your favourite colour which made Doyoung smile to himself. You seemed nervous and it made him uneasy, but the thought of avoiding this encounter didn’t cross him mind long enough for him to turn it into reality. He was glad to finally spend some time with you and get his well-deserved closure.

So Doyoung walked in, like a soldier ready for war. When you raised your gaze to him the outcome of the battle was already decided. Doyoung would’ve lost.

The dinner went surprisingly well compared to Doyoung’s expectations, since you two had a lot to catch up on. He couldn’t help but notice how there were still some topics you hadn’t touched in the least. Not even once you had ever pronounced the words ‘marriage’, ‘fiancé’, ‘reception’ or anything of the sort. Doyoung was contempt enough in listening to your every word and every anecdote regarding work. He couldn't bring himself to bring up the questions he was dying to ask, especially not after seeing that you weren’t wearing your ring. Maybe you just preferred not to wear such an expensive ring all the time, he thought remembering how meticulous you were. Doyoung was sure that there was a logical explanation so he convinced himself not to think about it too much.

“And so, she stormed out of the classroom after I told her she was going to fail my class.”

“I didn’t take you for the teacher who made her students cry.” Doyoung joked after taking a sip of water.

“Well, crying won’t get her anywhere with me. I’ll give her three days before she comes back begging me to help her.” You asserted setting your fist on the table, trying to empathize your point.  

“Is this how you treat your fiancé?” Doyoung laughed but this time you didn’t laugh with him. The comment had come out unexpectedly and he knew it was a mistake as soon as he looked at your eyes slowly losing their light. You stayed impassive for what felt like the longest seconds in Doyoung’s life. Silence, filled by the clicking of glasses and inaudible chatter that only amplified the gut feeling that something was wrong.  

You gazed at your plate and then at Doyoung, beaming at him.  

“That’s just how I treat everybody, you know me.”  

Doyoung exhaled at your answer that only left him with more doubts. But he also was glad that those past months hadn’t thrown your friendship in the scrapheap. You know me. He repeated those words in his head over and over. Yes, I know you.

“Jungwoo told me he saw you the other day.” Doyoung quickly tried to change the subject, clearly, he hadn’t succeeded in doing so. You let out an embittered chuckle.  

“Did he tell you why he saw me?”

Needless to say, Doyoung was starting to break a sweat as he felt like you were a riddle impossible to solve.  

“No, actually he didn’t. Did something happen?” He stressed the last sentence as much as he could, as if to say you can tell me anything, you know it. He kept his eyes on you for as long as he could, afraid of your every movement. Afraid that you might even dissolve into thin air if he looked away for too long.

“I called him to help me move out.”  

“But I thought you already lived with Jaehyun.” You smiled at yourself, not looking directly at the man sitting in front of you, setting your eyes on the hands of the bartender pouring bourbon inside an old man’s glass. Doyoung was a good a person, you always knew that, someone who always looked at the bright side of things. A person that, when tragedy stroked, was ready to sweep away the broken pieces.  

“Oh.” Doyoung finally saw the bigger picture and felt a little ashamed, even if all he did was just not running directly to worst case scenario.  

“Yeah, it was pretty rough. But don’t worry, we’re on good terms now. I got a nice new apartment all by myself, nice view and all.” You were smiling, yet the curve of your lips looked like scar. Doyoung’s heart was pounding restlessly in his chest at the thought of you going through that awful situation alone. He remembered that incredible woman he had saw months prior at her engagement party. He couldn’t see her anymore and it made him weak.

“Are you going to be okay?” Doyoung took your hand in his, noticing how cold it was. He observed how you studied that small gesture of sympathy. He wondered if someone had even asked you a question like that lately.  

“I will try.” That response was enough for Doyoung, you were still the person he had grown to love. He was determined to keep what was left of your fire alive.  

“I know you will.” Doyoung’s grip tightened softly. “I know you.”  

Doyoung agreed on getting some fresh air after dinner.

You had gone past the uncomfortable conversation about how Jaehyun had realised only after popping out the question that he wasn’t ready for marriage.  

“Well, he always looked kind of indecisive.”

“I guess we got the final proof.” It was wonderful for Doyoung to hear your laughter again, even when it came from a place of self-pity.  

“I know someone has probably said this to you already, but he doesn’t know what he’s missing.” Doyoung affirmed, as sternly as he could. He saw you curiously eyeing at him, then you delicately put your arm in his.

“Actually, you’re the first one to say that. Thank you.” you stated, hiding a hint of melancholy in your voice. Doyoung kept you at his side, walking with you along the river promenade. How lucky he felt to be with you like this, he questioned how someone could simply let go such a wonderful person.  

“Why did you never reach to me after... you know...” you suddenly asked leaving Doyoung dumbstruck.  

“I just... thought you’d be too busy.”

“For seven months?” he was taken back by your precise memory, then he remembered who he was talking to.  

“You didn’t reach out to me either.” Doyoung pointed out.

“I was going to... but then one day I saw you on the street.”

Doyoung got a lump in his throat.

“I called your name and you turned the other way.” your voiced trembled. Your steps stopped; you were now face to face. Doyoung couldn’t run away anymore.  

“Y/n...”

“Was it something I said? Something I’ve done? Please Doyoung, I’ve been torturing myself for months, thinking about what I could’ve done wrong.” Cold tears made their way across your cheeks. As Doyoung witnessed this he couldn’t help feel ashamed. He had been haunting your mind, while all he had done was pushing you away. He put a hand on his mouth overwhelmed by everything that was being uncovered.

“You did nothing wrong, y/n.” his voice wasn’t stable, another word and he knew it would’ve been the end.  

“Then why do you hate me?!” you sobbed, unable to contain yourself. You went on, uttering sentences, that would lose their direction in the middle, on how bad you had felt when Doyoung had stopped talking to you, how terribly alone and humiliated you had felt when Jaehyun had called off the engagement while you were visiting your family, how you wished you could’ve just called him during that awful period, until all one could hear were broken sobs. That’s when Doyoung broke.

“It was too painful knowing that you were someone else’s!” Doyoung shouted, fists tight as tears rolled down his face as well.  

“I couldn’t bear the thought of you walking down the aisle to a man that wasn’t me, I thought it would’ve been better to step aside. But I never hated you, I could never. God, I could never hate you. And now I realise how my decision has hurt the both of us.”  

Your sobs slowly ceased, Doyoung tried to make sense of your reaction. You stood there in front of him, wiping your cheeks, hesitant on what to say. Doyoung’s head lowered, feeling guilty for the pain he had caused you.  

“Why didn’t you tell me right away?” you finally spoke but he still couldn’t look at you in the eyes.  

“It was too late when I realised how I felt about you.” He sighed turning to the side, his dark eyes reflecting in the city lights.  

“How late?” you almost chuckled at the last word but you refrained yourself.  

“On the day you announced that you were getting married.” He noticed your body getting stiff at the confession.  

“Doyoung...”

“You looked so beautiful, so happy. I wish had taken a picture, Jesus. After I saw that ring on your finger, I just wanted to disappear. But I only caused you pain and-”

You wrapped your arms around him before he could finish his sentence and tear up again. You held him closely, burying your face in the crook of his neck.  

“You suffered too Doyoung. God, I feel so stupid.”  

“Don’t say that.”

“I should’ve known.”  

You stayed entangled, in between sobs and a few reassuring words. It felt like putting together the broken pieced again. Doyoung eventually leaned back and look at you as you attempted to fixed your now ruined make up. He chuckled softly telling you that there was no need and that you looked gorgeous either way. His tender smile was replaced by a shocked expression when you pressed your palm on his cheek. When he perceived you leaning forward his mind went blank. Before you could get any closer you stopped.

“Can I kiss you?” you whispered gently and he thought it was all a dream. If he had rubbed his eyes he would’ve woken up, you would’ve been no longer close enough for him to hear your heartbeat. Therefore, he could only bring his hand on your waist and wrap you even closer to him and hope that he would never wake up. You smiled tenderly after getting his permission. Slowly you united your lips in a sweet peck. It wasn’t a dream. His grip on you was firm as your lips passionately let go of all their fears, of all the unspoken secrets. Doyoung took his time with you, rejoicing in every kiss, making them last for as long as he could. It was home. It was the right place to be. You delivered one sweet kiss before leaning back to admire Doyoung’s peaceful expression.  

“What happens now?” Doyoung asked, caressing your lower back. What happens now? You hand travelled to his chest so that he could squeeze you in even tighter.

“I don’t know.” You aligned his face to his, your noses touching. “But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. We can decide. So how about we start over?”

Doyoung beamed at you looking like the happiest man who had ever walked the Earth. He freed himself from your embrace, leaving rather disoriented.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Doyoung.” he exclaimed, putting his hand forward. You wasted no time before shaking it.

“Nice to meet you too, I’m y/n.”

#doyoung au #doyoung scenarios #doyoung imagines #doyoung drabbles #nct au #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct drabble #doyoung angst #doyoung fluff #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 scenarios #nct dream imagines #kim doyoung

[love-and-monsters]

Duthal the Orc

This is the story the second-place winner of my giveaway, @nayderz requested- an orc lover with an enemies to lovers trope. Enjoy!

F reader X male monster, 3052 words.

“He’s such a dick,” you hissed into your glass. Your friend, Margot, shifted her weight and took a draught from her beer stein.

“What did he do again?” she asked, tossing her hair to one side.

“He’s just an asshole,” you said, waving your glass for emphasis. Margot grabbed a napkin to swipe up the drops you’d spilled. “Like, does he have to question everything I do? I suggested we try to branch out a little bit, you know? Like, I know we do toys, but it’s not that hard to shift to some of those collectible figurines, and adults like those. We’d expand the market!”

Margot nodded cautiously, taking another gulp from her mug. You could feel that you were ever so slightly tipsy, and it was always hard to keep your mouth shut when you started getting drunk. “And what did he say?”

“He was all-” You tried to puff yourself up and deepen your voice to mimic his, “Have you checked the manufacturing costs against the potential gains? Is it really worth it?”

Margot flicked an ear. “Isn’t he, like. An accounting guy? Isn’t figuring out the costs for all the business stuff his job?”

You glared at her. “I mean- well, yes, but I didn’t go a good job of showing you his tone. He said it in a really asshole way. Like of course I was an idiot, who would never check anything.”

“And you’re sure that you’re not just pissed that he was poking holes in your idea?” Margot asked. “You can be a little defensive.”

“I’m not being defensive!” you insisted, waving your glass again. Margot moved the napkin to gather up the spill. “I mean, look. I’ve been with the company for two years more than he has been and he thinks that just because he’s some golden boy, top-of-his-class graduate and he got a high-up position, he can question everyone else!” You gulped down the last of your drink. “Well, I know what he’s doing and I am not going to give in to him.” You leaned over the table, turning to look at Margot. “You think my idea’s good, right?”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t work in business and I never want to.”

“Yeah, yeah, park ranger. You don’t need to tell me how cool your job is.” You rested your forehead on the table for a moment before Margot pushed you back upright.

“Hey. You love your job. Don’t let one jerk get you down,” she said. You started to lift your hand to summon the waiter and she swatted it back down. “Easy there. You’ve got work tomorrow and the asshole’s probably going to get his tail in a twist if you show up hungover.”

“Doesn’t have a tail,” you mumbled into the table. “He’s an orc.”

“Fine. Tusk in a twist.” Margot summoned the waiter and asked for a check. “What’s his name?”

You shrugged. “Dunno.”

Margot snorted. “All this fuss and you don’t know his name?”

You shrugged. “I was too focused on what a jerk he was to listen when he said it. I’ll find it out eventually. Not like I plan on spending much time with him.”

You could practically feel the universe laughing at you the next morning when your boss called you into his office. “I like your idea,” he said. “But if you want to pitch it to anyone higher up in the company, you’re going to need to put together a proposal.” He waved his hand toward the door of the office and he stepped inside.

Duthal Morrigan. He was almost a foot taller than you, and you weren’t that short. His skin was a pleasant shade of spring-green and his eyes were bright gold. He didn’t look much like an accountant- he was buff and honestly quite intimidating. His tusks jutted up sharp and dangerous from his mouth and his brow seemed permanently furrowed. His dark hair was drawn back into a short ponytail and when he folded his arms over his chest, you could swear his shirt started straining around his pecs.

Really, it only added to your dislike of him that he was completely and unfairly attractive. If he hadn’t been the worst person ever, you were pretty sure you would have asked him out. As it was, you set your jaw and tried to look amenable and not entirely pissed off.

“I could put together a proposal on my own,” you said. “I’ve put together a few before. I wouldn’t want to make Mr. Morrigan work on something he’s probably not interested in.”

“Actually,” Duthal said in a low, warm voice, “I asked for this project. I’m interested in the idea and I think you could use an eye more experienced with sums and profits.”

You could have strangled him. Well, probably not. He looked strong enough to break you in half while barely trying. But you wanted to. He sounded to insufferably smug, like he was doing you some great favor by jumping onto your project and probably sucking up half the credit in the process.

But there was nothing you could do. Your boss was smiling expectantly and trying to get him off the project would make you look arrogant at best and bitchy at worst. So you gritted your teeth and stuck out your hand.

“Okay. Looks like we’re partners.”

His hand was warm against yours and he was obviously being careful not to grip too hard when he squeezed. “Looks like we are.” He gave a toothy grin. “I won’t let you down.”

You shot him a look that clearly said ‘you better not’ and nodded to your boss. “I’ll go get started, then.”

You stepped out into the hall and started heading to your cubicle. It took only a few steps before you realized you were being followed. You whirled around and Duthal stumbled to a stop, looking at you uncertainly.

“Do you need something?” you asked. Duthal blinked, looking a little thrown.

“We’re supposed to be working together? I figured you were going to brief me on what you wanted,” he said.

You gritted your teeth, but he had a point. “Right. Okay. Come with me.” You stepped into your cubicle. Unfortunately, it was small enough that both of you couldn’t really fit so well. You weren’t exactly touching, him, but you were a little closer than you would have liked. He shifted a little uncomfortably, sitting in one of your small chairs.

“So. I want to make a proposal that we start making some collectible figurines, like art pieces. They’re pretty popular nowadays, so I figure we can kind of lean into the collectible factor of it. Like, some of them are more common than others and we can have seasonal ones that rotate in and out.” You could tell that your voice was starting to rise with excitement and you cleared your throat and sat back in your chair. “It’s a good idea,” you said a little defensively when you sat his expression.

He was still frowning, but he nodded slowly. “But you don’t have any numbers yet?”

You grimaced. “No, not really. I guess that’s why you got assigned.”

“I would assume so,” he said. He scribbled something on a notepad. His pencil looked rather small in his large hand. “I’ll look up some figures and get back to you with whether or not this could work.”

Your fingers curled around the armrest of your chair. It was a good idea and it could work and who the hell did he think he was? Still, you forced yourself to smile at him. “Sure. Get it as soon as possible, okay?”

He nodded and walked out of your cubicle. You took a deep breath and leaned over your computer.

A few hours later, you felt like your eyes were bleeding. Or you were crying. You weren’t entirely sure. Writing the proposal was much harder than you thought it would be. You’d started and subsequently deleted three drafts and you still weren’t entirely sure how to put everything together.

“Excuse me.” A deep voice sounded from the front door of your cubicle and you nearly snapped the pen you were holding in half.

“What?” you snapped, whipping around. Duthal was standing in the doorway, looking down at you uncertainly over the stack of papers in his hands.

“I have some figures,” he said. “I thought you might like to see them.”

You grunted and turned back to your computer. “Put them over there,” you said, waving a hand vaguely in the direction of your desk.

Duthal placed the papers onto your desk, then hesitated. You could feel his eyes on your back. You ignored it for a moment before glancing at him. “Need something else?”

He opened his mouth, then shook his head. “No. I’ll get back to work.”

You looked back at your computer screen as he left, nursing a headache that was starting to thud behind your eyes. After a few minutes of frustrated staring, you grabbed the stack of papers he’d left and started leafing through them.

The numbers weren’t exactly promising. Most of them projected a loss for the first couple of years and only minimal gains for the next few. Even the best projections didn’t show the ringing success that you wanted.

For a moment, you felt a flash of anger. Was Duthal trying to sink your project? But after a moment, the anger melted into a sort of stinging despair. The numbers you’d found on your own weren’t as promising as you’d hoped.

You took a few deep, gulping breaths, trying not to let yourself be overwhelmed by despair. Fuck. You were not going to cry at work. You were going to get through this and you were going to put something together that at the very least gave your project a fighting chance.

Several hours later, you were staring at your computer screen. Your eyes were staring to feel strained and gritty and you blinked a few times. The numbers on your clock kept shifting. It was late and you were pretty sure you were the only one in the office. But you needed to stay awake.

Several hours later, you were staring at your computer screen. Your eyes were staring to feel strained and gritty and you blinked a few times. The numbers on your clock kept shifting. It was late and you were pretty sure you were the only one in the office. But you needed to stay awake. Your report was barely started. You just needed to stay up a little longer to get it done. Just a little longer. Just… a little…

You blinked your eyes open blearily. Your cheek ached where it was pressed into your keyboard and your cheek was a little sticky. Had you been drooling in your sleep? Ew.

“Are you all right, ma’am?” You jolted upright and whirled around to see Duthal standing in the doorway of your cubicle. A rapid flush of shame suffused your body and you stood up, trying to make yourself look presentable.

“Fine. I’m fine.” Your voice was a little slurred and you swallowed, patting your hair back into place. “Do you need something?”

He hesitated, looking you up and down. “Did you spend the night here?”

Your cheeks burned. “I was trying to get a little extra work done and I guess I fell asleep,” you said, trying to keep your tone light.

Duthal looked you up and down, then held up his hand in a ‘wait here’ gesture. You stared after him as he walked rapidly down the hall and vanished.

Grimacing, you tried to brush out your hair and smooth your clothes. Shit. You didn’t have anything to change into. Hopefully no one would notice they were the same clothes you’d worn yesterday.

Someone knocked on your door and Duthal stepped inside. “Here,” he said, holding a small bag out to you.

You took it and peeked inside. There were two small bottles of shampoo and conditioner, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and a bar of soap. You looked back up at him.

“I keep it in the office in case I’m ever working late nights,” he explained. “I haven’t used anything in there, though. I haven’t been on long enough. Uh, there’s a gym on the ground floor that has a nice bathroom and some showers. It’s still early enough that there probably won’t be anyone there.”

You stood up. “Thanks.” Maybe you could slip out and buy a skirt and blouse really quick? Something cheap? “I’ll just go then.” You scrambled out of your office, keeping your gaze down. Thankfully, Duthal was right about it being a little early. It was barely eight, so there were only a few people milling around and all of them were too busy drinking coffee to pay any attention to you.

After brushing your teeth and showering, you felt a little bit more human and a little more clearheaded. You didn’t have a blow dryer, so you squeezed the moisture out of your hair as best you could and headed back up to your cubicle.

You had expected Duthal to be gone when you returned, but he was still sitting inside, glancing through the files you’d laid out over the night. Sitting on your desk was a bagel and a little cup of fruit and oatmeal. “What’s that?” you asked.

He looked up from the papers. “I got you breakfast. I can get something else, if you like. I wasn’t sure what you liked.”

“Bagel is fine,” you said, sitting down. “Um. Sorry about… all that.” You gestured vaguely to yourself.

“You’re not the first person who’s fallen asleep in the office,” Duthal said. “We have a running tally in accounting. So far, Jethro’s won the prize for most nights in the office the past three months in a row.”

“Jethro’s a centaur. He could fall asleep anywhere there’s standing room,” you said. Duthal snorted.

“That’s true.” You took a bite of the bagel and glanced over at the files Duthal had been examining. He’d made notes in surprisingly neat handwriting around the edges, which was embarrassing when compared to your large scrawl and even more embarrassing when you realized that your sensibility had gradually trailed off the later the night got. Some of the really late scribblings didn’t even make sense. You wilted as he continued looking over the sheets.

“I don’t know if I’m cut out for this,” you said. Duthal glanced up at you. If you hadn’t been so tired, you probably wouldn’t have spilled to anyone, much less him, but he was there and you were exhausted. “I’ve been trying to figure out this all night and I’m not having much luck. Maybe this was a stupid idea.”

“I thought it was a good idea. That’s why I volunteered to be on this project,” Duthal said. Your head snapped in his direction.

“You volunteered to be on this project? I thought you just got assigned,” you said.

“I was interested in the project when you first proposed it. I asked if I could help. I assumed our boss told you.” He frowned a little and you felt a prickle of guilt run through your stomach.

“Sorry,” you said after a long moment. “It’s not going very well. If you want to jump ship, I get it.”

“Don’t give up. It was a great idea,” Duthal said. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You were the first person to bring up the problems with it.”

“Because I though it was a good idea,” he insisted. “If I thought it was a bad idea, I wouldn’t have bothered to make it better.”

You felt very stupid for a moment, then shook your head. “Well, it’s not looking like such a great idea anymore. You were right about not being able to support the idea with the numbers.”

“Actually, I was looking into that.” Duthal grinned around his tusks. He looked more like an excited puppy in that moment than anything else and you found yourself strangely charmed. “I was looking over some of these forms and there are a few projections that are really good. I can set up a few charts that show that off, make it look better.”

“Show me,” you said, leaning over his shoulder as he sketched out a basic outline of a report. You were close enough together that you could feel the gentle warmth that radiated from him. God, how long had it been since you’d been so close to someone like this? You subtly shook off the distraction.

The distraction grew more and more difficult to ignore as you spent the day together in the cubicle, tossing ideas back and forth. Duthal was quick-witted and surprisingly charming, aside from being absolutely amazing with numbers. You ate lunch together, sorting out the proposal as quickly as you could.

By the end of the day, an hour and a half after everyone else had gone home, you and Duthal had thrown something together that actually looked promising. It wasn’t polished enough to actually hand over to anyone yet, but it was looking leagues better than it had when you collapsed at your desk the night prior.

“Thanks for all your help,” you said as Duthal started to gather his things to leave. He glanced at you as you tiredly stood up and started to grab at your coat and purse.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” he asked. “You look exhausted.”

“You’re not sick of me yet?” you asked teasingly. It was such a light comment that you hadn’t expected to see a flush cross his cheeks.

“No,” he said. “Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to get together over the weekend? Not for work, just to talk. Maybe grab a meal?”

“It was your turn to blush a little. “Yes,” you said without even thinking. “I think I’d like that. And I take the subway home, but you can walk me there, if you want.”

Duthal grinned. “Hold on a moment. I’ll get my coat.” You smiled fondly after him as he walked down the hall.

Fuck. Margot was not going to believe this.

#exophilia #orc boyfriend #orc lover #monster boyfriend #monster lover #orc #I hope this is good #I don't write enemies to lovers often

[renaerys]

17. “Come here. Let me fix it.” (Mojo & Brick)

{{Original posting unfortunately deleted. Reposted here.}}

February Fic Prompt #17 originally requested by Anon. Sort of a Brick origin story. Against my better judgment, he is kind of cute as a 7-year-old. Mojo is the best evil dad. :’)

xxx

“Ouch!”

Brick shook out his throbbing thumb where he’d smashed it with a hammer. The hammer was bent out of shape and worthless now courtesy of his Super strength, but man that had really hurt. A sudden an apoplectic rage overcame him and he kicked the toy plane clear across the workshop, where it smashed into a prototype Robo Jojo and broke even more than it already was.

He instantly regretted losing his temper and flew to retrieve the toy plane, hoping beyond hope that he hadn’t made it worse. The wing was bent and twisted where she’d gotten her grimy, girly hands on it, but to Brick’s utter dismay, he’d cracked the cockpit.

It wasn’t fair. Nothing was fair, least of all her. Just because he didn’t want to share his toy didn’t make it wrong! It was his toy, not Mike’s, and she had no business taking it from him and ruining everything.

Brick squeezed his eyes shut. He could still hear the laughter of the other kids. Laughing at him. This sucked, and she sucked worst of all. He wasn’t lying when he said it was his toy, but she went and broke it anyway and it wasn’t fair.

“Please tell me you did not break into my laboratory without my permission, which is required to enter this laboratory because it is mine and not yours, just to cry all alone.”

Brick shot up and found Mojo Jojo standing near the stairs to the observatory, gloved paws clasped behind his back like some cold scientist observing his test subject’s abnormal behavior to catalogue for further study. Brick glared up at him and hid his broken plane behind his back.

“I wasn’t crying!” he snapped, blinking fast to make the tears disappear before Mojo could see them.

Mojo narrowed his beady eyes and strolled deeper into the lab. Brick was no sissy and he had powers, so he stood his ground until Mojo stopped right in front of him. He looked down on Brick as though he was nothing but dirt under his shoe, like he always did ever since Brick and his brothers had started spending weekends and some holidays with Him. Fine, whatever, he would leave since this place was stupid and the whole idea was stupid and—

“Let me see it.” Mojo held out his hand and waited.

Brick sniffled. “What?”

“The item which you are concealing behind your back. Very poorly, I must say. You have not mastered the art of hiding guns and blasters and other such large and unexpected tools of destruction behind your back as I, Mojo Jojo, have.”

Brick took a step back and glared up at Mojo. “No, it’s mine and you can’t have it!”

“Oh puh-lease. As if I have any interest in taking it from you without your consent, which of course I do not. I am evil, not cruel.”

Brick hesitated. This sounded like a trap. Mojo was probably pretty steamed that he’d broken in here, so who was to say he wasn’t lying and would just take the plane away permanently?

Mojo sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Listen boy, I have had a veeeeeery long day drafting my newest super secret plans to destroy my arch nemeses and all-around pains in my behind, the Powerpuff Girls, and I simply want to enjoy my afternoon tea in peace and quiet peacefully. So, unless you want to be my guinea pig for the new Antidote X Heat-Seeking Laser I am secretly building, which you are not allowed to speak of since it is a secret, then I suggest you—”

“Ugh, all right! Just put a sock in it already, geez.” Brick revealed the beat-up toy plane clutched in his hands, anything to get the long-winded monkey to stop his stupid rambling about his dumb inventions Brick didn’t even care about. He glared at the floor, upset and sad and a little ashamed that he’d been caught.

“Who is responsible for this?” Mojo asked.

Anger burned Brick’s cheeks as he remembered that day earlier in Mr. Green’s first grade classroom. It’s not like he meant to shove Mike hard enough to break the desk, but there was no rule that said he had to share his stuff if he didn’t want to. She, of course, didn’t agree. Heat bloomed behind his eyes just thinking of the way she’d yanked the plane right out of his hands after Mike went down and then bragged about how easy it was to all their classmates.

“Blossom,” he muttered, more ashamed than angry having to admit it out loud.

Mojo was quiet a moment. Then, instead of taking the toy away, he picked up the bent hammer Brick had discarded in a fit. Mojo turned it in his hands, frowning deeply.

Just when Brick was sure this was it, and Mojo was going to rip him a new one for not only breaking in but destroying one of his tools, he walked away. Brick stared at his stupid cape dragging behind him and the broken hammer clutched in his paw.

Mojo paused and looked back at him. “Well? Come on, boy. I don’t have all day.”

Brick was so stunned that he began to float after him without thinking. Why wasn’t Mojo screaming at him by now?

He didn’t have far to go; Mojo had stopped at the workbench where Brick had initially found the hammer and rummaged around the neatly organized power tools and parts. Everything was meticulously labeled and stored way too neatly, but it made it easy to find things. He’s selected a blow torch and paused to look at Brick like he was expecting something.

Mojo sighed and held out his paw. “Come here. Let me fix it.”

“What?”

“Oh for crying out loud, give it here. Unless you want it to stay broken?”

Of course he didn’t want that. It was why he’d broken in to Mojo’s lab in the first place. But he didn’t know anything about fixing stuff. He’d seen Mojo do it a little in times past, but Brick didn’t care about robots and parts and stuff. Who needed them when he had super powers?

Reluctantly, he offered Mojo the broken toy plane with one hand and readied an energy blast in the other in case he tried any funny business. But Mojo just accepted the toy and turned it around in his paws carefully, assessing the damage. He made a grunting noise like he was thinking about something, and Brick floated closer to try to see what he was seeing.

Mojo paused and eyed him hovering over his shoulder. “I need to seal this crack and re-mold the wing. Curses. That girl has the strength of a very strong bovine, how annoying…”

Brick bit his lip. “Can you fix it?”

“Of course I can fix it. I am a genius and I happen to have a degree in Evil Welding. How do you think I am able to create so many diabolical robots and weapons so diabolically?”

Brick didn’t care about any of that, but if Mojo could fix his plane, then that would be pretty cool. “So fix it already.”

Mojo donned the welding mask and frowned at him. “And what would you have done if I had not come back when I did? Perhaps thrown it at another of my splendid creations and further destroyed that which you came here to salvage? How pathetic.”

Brick’s eyes flashed with power and he got in Mojo’s face. “I ain’t pathetic! I’m a Rowdyruff Boy, and I don’t need you or anybody else talkin’ down to me!”

“Then prove it. Instead of whining like a little baby, learn something from this experience so you can use it against Blossom next time!”

Brick’s lasers fizzled just as fast as Mojo’s attention on him, and he was left to ponder those words as the monkey lit the blow torch and began to weld. Despite himself, Brick couldn’t help but watch what Mojo was doing.

“There is a technique to it,” Mojo explained. “Watch how the metal folds…”

Mystified, Brick soon he forgot all about his anger as the airplane slowly transformed from a warped hunk of trash back into his beloved toy.

“Now for the paint.”

Mojo had everything he could possibly need to fix battle robots, let alone little toy airplanes, and when he was done, it came out redder and shinier than it had ever been when Brick stole it out of a goodwill toy box. He could hardly believe it was the same toy Blossom had ruined.

Thinking of Blossom made him scowl. Oh, he’d show her. She was nothing but a sissy know-it-all who thought she was so much better than him, but he’d show her.

Mojo was watching him, weirdly quiet. “This will not happen again.”

Brick looked up at him and smirked. “No way. I’m gonna break her dumb toys next time, see how she likes it.”

“No, you fool. Any imbecile can smash and destroy, but it takes skill and intelligence to create and plan and scheme.”

“Well, I don’t care about schemes.”

“Oh really? Because Blossom is a schemer. The schemiest schemer who ever schemed. I should know, I also have a degree in Advanced Scheming.”

“She’s not.”

“She is. Or are you saying it was just an accident that she bested you today? Tell me, was it really the broken toy you were upset about? Or could it possibly be that you cried because you were embarrassed that she beat you yet again?”

Brick flew at Mojo in a flash, eyes blazing. “She’ll never beat me!”

“Then prove it. Show me the metaphorical money, which in this case refers to your fiery determination to become better than her and outsmart her and then one day destrooooooooy her and her pesky sisters like you were created to do by me, Moooooojo Jojo! Mwahahahahaha!”

Brick bared his teeth in a sneer and clutched his toy plane to him. Outsmart Blossom? Be better than her? If he did that, then he’d finally beat her and she’d never be able to push him around or break his things ever again? Every time he and his brothers faced her and her sisters, they lost, and even though Brick didn’t care, he didn’t get it. Next time they’d win. Next time they’d come out on top once and for all. But next time never came.

She’s the schemiest schemer who ever schemed.

That didn’t sound so hard. If Blossom could scheme, then Brick could scheme. He could be smart. He could learn, like he learned how to fix his toy today. Next time he wouldn’t even need Mojo’s help.

“She’ll never beat me,” he said again, quiet, determined.

“That’s my boy.”

I ain’t your boy.

The retort was on the tip of his tongue, but Brick kept his mouth shut. Maybe…Mojo had a point. Be smart, be better, play the long game, maybe that was how he’d beat her. She, who thought she was sooooo much smarter and better than him, well, he’d show her. He’d show Mojo too.

Brick floated to the open window he’d broken in through, but paused where he crouched on the sill and tucked the shiny toy plane under his arm. “Thanks…for this.”

Mojo showed him his back. “You are welcome.”

Brick winced and bolted from the observatory without looking back. He had a long night of studying ahead of him if he wanted to catch up to that lame goody two-shoes and prove to her once and for all who was the schemiest, and he was determined to win this time.

#Brick #Mojo Jojo #Powerpuff Girls #PPG #Powerpuff Girls fanfiction #February Fic Prompts #repost

[generalthirstclub]

I Don’t Need Your Help (squip x reader; part 2 of ??)

A/N: SHOOT SHOOT SHOOT IVE HAD THIS FINISHED SITTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR AGES BECAUSE THE ORIGINAL DRAFT I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED AND CRIED OVER IT FOR HOURS OOPS AND I DIDNT LIKE HOW THE SECOND RESULT TURNED OUT AT ALL BUT HERE TAKE THIS STEAMING PILE OF HOT GARBAGE EW EW EW

—

I was startled awake by a scream.

I jolt up off the ground, gasping and groaning as my body immediately reacted with an intense soreness in every muscle. Where was I? It was cold- the floor beneath me was hard….

“Oh my god- what- what happened in here?”

A panicked voice makes me wince, eyes opening slowly. Bright. I was….

In the bathroom. In the bathroom at the mall.

“Miss- Hey- Miss- get up-”

A hand reaches out to grab my arm, yanking me up off my behind. God, it felt like someone had put me through a document shredder. Twice. Why did everything hurt so bad??

“Hey! Are- are you okay??”

I was sucked back into reality by the voice of the short woman in front of me- she was probably a sophomore, clad in the mall worker’s uniform. She looked like she’d seen a ghost….

“W-What?”

I feel myself say. It takes effort, and my own voice seems distant. It almost feels like I’d just had the worst acid trip of my life…. God, I hope that wasn’t what had actually happened.

But what had happened back there??

“You- it’s closing time, miss- how- how long have you been in here?”

The short girl questions, worry showing clear on her face. Great. Closing time. Midnight. But how was it so late? I’d only headed into Spencer’s to get……

To get the SQUIP.

‘God, it’s about time you got up.’

My body immediately freezes in place. No. No, no no-

“Miss?”

I whip my head around to look at the girl. I have to get home. Now.

“I-I have to go-”

I stutter out quickly, ripping my arm away from her and stumbling away. I ignore her protests. I have bigger things to worry about now.

Sprinting through the mall, I pray to anyone who is listening that I make it out of here with my sanity and dignity in tact. A part of me is in denial. This couldn’t possibly be real- the stupid pill- it was just….

But I knew. What else was I expecting?? It was like I was hoping that the six hundred dollars I’d just pissed away were a waste- which wasn’t too far from accurate. But now everything was different. Now everything was new. And I was terrifed.

'Take a left. The bus arrives in fifteen minutes, wouldn’t want to be late or you’re walking home. Would be rather unfortunate for the both of us, really.’

The voice chimes into my thoughts and I gasp, stumbling a bit as I run. It was there, it was real, and it was inside of my head-

'The sooner you get back home, the sooner I get to fix this mess you’ve made of yourself.’

A groan erupts from my throat and I feel an uncharacteristic wave of anger boil in the pit of my stomach. So maybe the SQUIP was a real thing. And maybe I’d just thrown away enough money to buy at least a thousand ice cream cones. But by no means could this stupid computer just barge his way into my thoughts and boss me around-

“Actually, I can.”

Suddenly the voice is real. Suddenly the voice is there, and instead of in my head it’s right in front of me, and I can’t breathe-

And it’s smiling at me.

He- or it looks like a he- has to at least be 6'3, towering above my smaller stature with a Cheshire grin. And God, does it make me the most uncomfortable I’ve ever been. Clad in an almost buisness-like inky black tailcoat paired with an oddly-bright shade of cyan undershirt and black slacks, he is literally intimidating to the point that I can’t feel myself breathe anymore.

My eyes quickly flicker up to his face and the only thing my brain begins to comprehend is how his eyes match the cyan of his undershirt- bold and wide and full of something between irritation and amusement. The world is moving around me but I can’t feel it; my mind, my eyes are too caught up in admiring the terrifying beast in front of me, how his tousled black hair frames his face perfectly and how the smirk plastered on his face pairs so well with the slight five o’ clock shadow and-

“Wake up. We don’t want to attract any more attention. You’ve gone and screwed it up enough as it is.”

I’m literally pulled out of my trance when he grabs my hand and actually drags me down the hall, an indignant squeak the only noise allowed to escape my lips. Who is this guy- how did he just- I heard him in my head-

“God, are you that dense?”

He drops my hand and I stumble a little, unable to find my voice. His grin has disappeared, and for a moment I’m relieved- until I spy the frustration written across his features.

“Follow me. Don’t say a word. People will think you’re insane, talking to yourself, and you don’t need anything else hindering your ability to be……. not whatever this is.”

He motions toward me and grimaces as he speaks, and a part of me is offended- who is this man to judge me?? We’d never even-

It clicks.

'It’s supposed to make you popular.’

'Tells you how to be cool.’

'Helps to fix everything wrong with you- it’ll make your life perfect!’

“You’re my SQUIP.”

The words escape my lips and I am breathless, frozen. He isn’t real. He’s just in my mind- but it feels so real. He hears my thoughts, he knows, he-

“If it’s taken you this long to figure out that one fact alone, I can already say that this is going to take a while.”

The SQUIP grumbles out, and he’s walking again. But this time it’s different. I know now, I know he’s not real, and I recognize how his dress shoes make no sound against the cold tile of the mall floor.

It pulls me out of my thoughts, realizing that this was exactly what I’d paid for. I stumble and hurry to catch up, still reeling, but the feeling is fading. It’s no longer fear that consumes me, but oddly enough-

Curiosity.

We exit the mall a few minutes later, into the darkness of a chilly autumn night. For a moment I almost lose him in the darkness due to his outfit- but there’s something about him. A surreal aura, almost like a glow that surrounds him and keeps him in my sight. I don’t have time to question it before he raises a hand and swipes at the air, making me blink as something akin to a computer interface appears in front of him. It glows the same color as his eyes, and my mind makes the connection that 'hey, maybe cyan’s his color’ as I hurry along behind him. He’s typing and scrolling vigorously, and a part of me is in awe. It was like a movie. Kind of scary and alien, but charmingly futuristic….

A smile graces my face and I shove my hands into my pockets, observing him silently as I do my best to keep up with him. The only noises in their air are the sound of my own footsteps and the occasional car whizzing by on the road, and for a moment it’s peaceful.

The peace doesn’t last very long.

Within seconds my brain is reminding me how awful this is, and my smile is eradicated immediately. How this machine is the very same that dragged away one of my best friends, and I was suddenly just cool with following it?? Watching it?? Listening to its instructions, obeying like some dog to its master?? This computer would not be my master- and would get no treatment as such. I was in control of my own brain, my own body-

But bloody hell, was he the most handsome thing I’d ever laid my eyes on.

The moment the thought pops into my head I regret it. Regret everything. Regret even being born- and my desire to throw myself out into moving traffic increases by at least two hundred percent when the SQUIP freezes in its tracks, obviously affected by my train of thought. It’s the first time he’s acknowledged my presence since we left, and it just had the be my stupid brain that did the trick. Oh god, this is awful, I want to die, my face is flushing and I don’t even need to see it to know because god I’m sweating so much and this is so uncomfortable and I think my heart stopped beating at some point and it’s so hard to breathe-

My internal rambling halts immediately when I feel his hand close around my wrist, tugging me forward beside him as we continue walking. I open my mouth to speak (like a fool, might I add) but close it again once my eyes catch the look on his face. It’s not anger. Or sadness, or irritation.

He’s embarrassed.

I only see it for a moment before he speeds up, the bus stop coming into view as I fall behind him. But no, I got all the time I needed to witness what I had-

The ride home may have been silent, but the grin on my face spoke novels of its own.

So maybe I could get myself out of this.

#squip x reader #submission

[atlaswriting]

“You strangled her.” It isn’t a question and he doesn’t flinch at the words. I don’t hold them behind teeth, don’t swallow it down because the sharpness is too much for my throat. Instead he shifts in the chair, unbuttons his three-piece and leans back, elbows over the edge of leather. “It’s not something you’re denying either, is it?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be bias, Doc?” the smirk is lethal—much more deadly than the weapon strapped to his waist. Sergeant Jacobs leans his head to the side, licks his lips and straightens out his face, “I’m not going to deny it—I did. To be fair, she was going to tell my wife that we were sleeping together. She was going to show her the videos we made—the pictures, the gifts from Paris. That whore was going to ruin everything I’ve ever worked for, everything I’ve ever built.”

For the first time since we started our sessions three weeks ago I see a glimpse of the real Tom Jacobs. A man who jumped out of the pages of a fairytale: strong chiseled jaw, blond hair and a honeyed smile that would entrap even the strongest bees. For the first time I see the monster peaking out of his throat, rot-black and sulfuric, just itching to come out. I see a fallen God and the man who tried climbing his way back to Olympus.

“You mean,” I pause, shifting through the papers in my lap, “everything your father has ever handed you?” I wait beat, heart jumping into my throat—the man has at least eight inches on me, half my body weight and refused to leave his gun at home like I’ve asked. His fingers twitch and the lines on his face contort. “Frankie was an escort you met during a sting operation, right? She was—fifteen at the time? And you began your affair roughly six months later, which tells me that you don’t care about your wife or the law, you just don’t want to lose your title. So you thought you would—,”

“Is this an interrogation or is this—,”

“I’m not finished, Mr. Jacobs,” I sharpen my voice on a whetstone—sit up straight, uncross my legs at the ankle and try to appear bigger. I steady the thunder rolling through my veins, will my heart to slow and I continue, “You thought you would try to murder Miss Hargraves because you believe your pride to be more important than her life. Is this correct?”

He doesn’t answer, dark eyes not breaking their grip on me—intimidation of the most intimate kind. Tom unclenches his fist only to curl his fingers—he drops his hands by his waist and my eyes fall to the gun. A dare bubbles up my throat—I wish you would—sitting at the tip of my tongue.

“If you had the choice between your life or someone else’s which would you choose, Miss Keene?” He asks, “Frankie isn’t dead. If I wanted her dead, she would be and I wouldn’t be sitting here right now, I’d be on some Island in the middle of nowhere. I let her live because I wanted to—because I’m gracious. If she thinks she’s going to get a cent out of this lawsuit, she is going to make a lot bigger enemies than just me. That’s the thing about the police academy,” he explains, “us before them.”

My tongue moves wildly behind my teeth, hand gripping my pen so tight that my knuckles ache, “I think that’s all I need to hear, Mr. Jacobs,” I tell him through a clenched jaw, “I will enjoy seeing you in court next week.”

I mimic him standing, spine pulling me painfully straight as I walk him to the door. He stops just short of stepping out and takes my hand, “I really hope you tell our truth, Doc. I’d hate to see anything happen to you.”

♡ ♡ ♡

then.

Smoke sits thick in the air, mixing with the nauseating stench of thrown up whiskey and cheap perfume it takes a fifth shot of tequila to calm the storm in my stomach.

I’ve been coming to Sal’s in southie since my Freshman year. Sal—also known as Sally to her customer’s is a broad, short woman whose multi-colored hair is always pulled up into a bun at the top of her head. She’s been in her fifties for at least thirty years—but I’ve seen her force unruly truckers out of their stools and into the frozen streets of Boston with only one hand.

“You’ve been here since three.” Sal finally says, setting a glass of water down in front of me, “I haven’t seen you eat all day—just stare. I love ya, kid, but you’re kind of creeping me out a little.” When I don’t move, she forces the glass closer to me, “Now I ain’t gonna ask again.”

I pick it up and force down half with her eyes still on me, “I don’t know if I’m made for this, you know? Digging into people’s mind, hell, I don’t even want to go into my own.” She snorts at this, “I’m serious, you know! It’s messy. I’ve had enough mess. Maybe I should become a baker.”

“Can you bake?”

“I can—but it being edible, that’s a different story.”

Sal leans on her elbows, “Darlin’ now I’m not saying this to be an ass—but that’s bullshit. You’re scared and you’re being a little bitch because of it.”

“You’re an awful friend.”

“And an awful bartender—yet you guys keep coming back.”

She stops talking when someone sits next to me, “Sorry sweetie, but I’m not about that underage life. What’re you 15?”

He laughs—something throaty and deep, “Eighteen, but thank you I’m just here for—,”

“He a friend of yours?” Sal turns to me, ready to toss him out like a used toothpick, “brother?”

“Something like that.” I look over at Jude, “How did you even know I was here?” Everything slows—his laugh, my blinking, and the same old Fleetwood Mac songs that play on repeat. I feel the few peanuts that I ate when I first sat down start to climb back up my throat.

Jude doesn’t miss a beat; he leans down and picks up my bags, throws my arm around his shoulder and lifts me up. Tennis shoes offer little to close the height gap between us and as we walk toward the front door, I stumble even more than if I were talking alone, “You texted me, remember? Said you couldn’t drive home. Here I am, to save the day.”

♡ ♡ ♡

now.

I should have said no.

Should have told them that I knew him on a personal level, that it was a conflict on interest—should have told him that my heart was the conflict.

But I didn’t. Put my hand over

my mouth and swallowed the warnings like a shot.

“You’re nervous? You don’t get nervous—should I be nervous?” Kea sits behind her desk in front of my office, “this guy isn’t a serial killer is he? Oh my god—Geo, I told you, stop taking on killers. I don’t have my will drafted up.”

I roll my eyes, unclench my jaw and shake my shoulders, “He isn’t a serial killer, Kea. He isn’t violent.”

“Except on the ice.” She says, “listen those blades are sharp. Maybe he has a few bodies in his closet, you don’t know.”

The door opens and Kea’s mouth falls open with words she no longer wanted to say, “now I can tell why you’re nervous.” She whispers, “Hide the ring—or hell, don’t, he can kill me with his hockey stick any day.”

“Shut it.” I whisper back, nudging my elbow into her side. “Jude,” his name fits in my mouth like a glove—the familiarity of the letters never left my mouth, “Judah—Mr. Shepherd, please come in.”

We don’t say anything—the only noise punctuating the silence is the ticking of the clock on the wall. His stare never falters and I do everything in my power to look anywhere but at him: the papers in my lap, the window overlooking buildings with a straight view to the beach and to his hands which lay on top of his shaking leg.

“You’re feeling angry I see—I—uh,” words die in my throat before I get a chance to say them, lips moving too fast and tongue sitting too heavy. “How are you?” I finally ask, “I meant to call when he told me you were coming to LA. I meant to catch up with you.” We both know I’m lying. I’d never been good at closure, foot always on one side the door, a suitcase always packed. I think of all the dinners I’ve purposely missed, texts that have went unanswered and voicemails that were deleted.

#thread: judette #thread: all