#but at least the job search is going well so maybe i can handle the treatment myself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 1 year

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𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐚 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

Hotch touches your face much more than a boss should. Or, 5 times you have a nosebleed +1 time Hotch does.

8k words, a slightly bloody coworkers to lovers, fem!reader, nosebleeds, reader works in the BAU but isn't a profiler, jack is a sweetheart, hotch has game fr, fluff + hurt/comfort

༺༻

You like your desk job. You handle paperwork primarily, and act as a sort of assistant unofficially. Anything to be useful — you get paid either way. It's why you don't mind trying to be helpful in the office and take on some of the office administrator's overflow.

Today, that's fixing the coffee machines. The office can function on one at a stretch but both being broken means an entire roster of grumpy agents and all of them are on your back. And when they have to see all the stuff they say? You figure fixing the coffee machines is the least you can do.

You're ignoring the weight of their waiting, elbow deep in one of the machines. The instruction manual had mentioned a little spout that can get clogged with detriment. Hopefully, you can clean it out and get at least one machine working by midday.

"Oh no," you murmur.

The piece you're trying to unscrew is tightly wound, too tight for your fingers to work behind. You're probably going to need a small tool, like an allen key.

"No luck?" Agent Prentiss asks, sounding defeated.

You look up from the machine and smile quickly. "I need smaller hands," you joke, letting the machine sit back on the counter and pulling out your aching fingers. "I'll have one working by the end of the day, Agent Prentiss. Scout's honour."

She shrugs and waves a hand at you. "It's alright. What's one day without caffeine?"

You laugh at her good-natured sarcasm and go back to your machine. When you're certain you can't jimmy it you turn your attention to the second machine and run through the steps. You're too determined to lose. Your coworkers depend on you.

You start by changing the filter and are unsurprised when that doesn't work. You check the button connectivity, the fuse, and then you turn again to that small piece that needs to be washed.

"Yes," you cheer under your breath, pulling the piece from its home to assess the problem.

It's a tiny pipe with a piece of mesh that acts as a sieve to trap dust. Maybe. Whatever it is, it's full of caramelised coffee grounds. You move to the sink basin and turn on the faucet to clean it, washing with anticipation as the burned coffee trickles down the drain.

You're pleased enough to feel a mild adrenaline rush, and your excitement leads to butter fingers: you drop the prized piece of pipe and it rolls out of sight.

This is not a good time for business casual.

You tug your too-tight pants from your thighs and bend down in search. When it doesn't reveal itself you get on your knees and run your hands along the seams of the kitchen cabinets, face lowered.

"Is everything okay?"

You wince at a very familiar, very unfortunately timed voice.

"Yes, sir, everything is perfect," you say, looking up to meet the eye of your boss' boss, unit chief SSA Aaron Hotchner. "I've misplaced a piece but I'll have the coffee machine working again in no time. I'm sorry."

He raises his eyebrows at you. It's a very nice expression on him, his eyes light with an emotion you don't often see on him. "Is fixing the coffee machine in your job description?" he asks.

You think it might be a polite reprimand. You won't insult him by insisting you're always on time with your actual delegated workload because he and your supervisor have to send you emails asking for missing paperwork all the time, so you try to disarm him.

You beam.

You're not a supermodel but everybody is pretty when they smile. "Sir, I thought I could sacrifice my lunch break for the good of the Bureau."

"Yes, well." He looks like he wants to smile back. You might be seeing what you want to see, though. "That won't be necessary. Take your time."

Your smile falters as you feel a telling heat at the back of your nose. "Thank you," you say quickly, covering your nostril with the pad of your index finger.

You're hoping your swift words will send him on his way, but he's literally the lead profiler of the BAU. He knows suspicious activity when he sees it.

"Is something wrong?"

Blood starts to trickle down your palm. You slide your hand up to cover your nose the best that you can. The alarm on his face when he spots the blood sliding down your bare forearm can't be understated.

"It's just a nosebleed," you placate, sounding stuffed up.

He's a quick thinker, tearing a wad of paper towel off of the dispenser above the microwave and offering it to you.

If you weren't so distracted by your current predicament you'd say thank you.

He turns back to the paper towels and tears off another wad. To your horror, Hotch bends down right there in the kitchenette and waits for you to open your palm, feeding the towels into your spare hand.

"Should you tilt your head back?"

"I think that's a myth," you say.

Your skin starts to scrawl with embarrassment, the itchy, awful feeling of being pinned by his eyes.

"How long do they usually last?"

"Not very long, sir. I'm sure you're busy."

He tilts his head slightly to one side as if conceding your point. "Let me help you up," he commands.

You can't make yourself reject his help. Honestly, it's nice to have somebody care even if the nosebleed is purely superficial. His fingers curl around the crook of your elbow and he helps you onto your feet just in time for Agent Prentiss to return.

"Hotch, what did you do?" she asks, bewildered.

You try not to laugh too much, worried you'll force another burst of blood.

—

Confidential information. You hear it, you ignore it. Harder to ignore the whiteboards in the conference room that are currently choc-a-block with prints of crime scene photos.

You don't mean to gawk at them. It's severely unprofessional and you shouldn't really be in here to begin with. The electronic screen is off, as are the monitors, so you know the room isn't in use.

That could change any second, and it does.

You hide your clammy palms behind your back at the sound of footsteps and try not to rush obviously toward the mug you'd come in here to collect.

The door creaks open as you're leaning over the table.

"I'm sorry," you say without looking.

"You don't have to clean up after anyone."

"Actually," you say quietly, abashed at having been caught, "this is my mug."

You turn to face him.

Agent Hotchner is tall and handsome. These are two undeniable facts and yet every time you see him it feels like a surprise. It might have something to do with how composed he is, how deliberate his movements are, or it might just be 'cause you have a crush on him.

It's anybody's guess.

"I can make Reid wash it," he says.

You're so whipped that your chest confuses his offer for something much worse. Like, he's on your side.

"That's okay, I don't wanna punish him for my own fussiness." You cover the mugs printed sides subtly, or as subtly as you're able.

"What's special?"

You smile at him, lips pressed together tight and eyes squinting slightly. You know what he's getting at but you ask anyways, stalling now he's caught you. "About what?"

"About the mug."

You peer behind him.

"You can't tell anyone," you murmur, rounding the table to stand by his side with your shoulders to the door. "I'm not sure anybody knows it's mine."

The mug is a corn-husk yellow and printed with a scene from a vintage Peanuts comic, dark-haired Lucy standing behind her lemonade stand that boasts 'Psychiatric Help 5¢'. Charlie Brown sits in front of it looking morose.

It's hard to describe why you like it so much.

"I see," Agent Hotchner says.

It's become something of an office joke, offering each other five cents on bad days, calling someone Charlie Brown when they look lost. You doubt very much that anyone is making fun of you, you're just hiding that it's your mug because that's part of the fun. The mystery of the Peanuts mug.

"I can't drink out of anything else," you confide, turning your face to his.

He's definitely smiling this time. "Why would you?"

You nod in genuine delight. "Exactly! Vintage Peanuts, and I searched so much for this because they used to use lead in glassware paint, and-"

The nosebleed comes on suddenly. There's a drop of blood running down your lips before you've even realised. Agent Hotchner's eyes follow it all the way down.

"Oh, no," you say, blood dripping to the hill of your chin.

You use the back of the hand that's holding the mug to catch what's rolling down your neck and the other to pinch your nose closed, bending forward on instinct to hide your face. You're seasoned in nosebleeds. You know how you look — scary. Ridiculous.

"Here," Agent Hotchner says.

His hand comes into your eyeline, offering a dark square of fabric. You cringe at the idea of marring his likely expensive handkerchief but you can't not accept, pressing it haphazard to your bloody nose.

"What were you saying about lead?"

You're so frazzled about the blood you don't realise he's made a joke until it's too late to laugh.

"Do you know what causes them?" he asks.

"I'm not really sure, sir. I used to get them all the time as a kid, um…" You pull the handkerchief away from your nose to check if it's still bleeding. When it doesn't continue, you say, "They're pretty harmless. It's done already."

"If you need time off for a check-up, I'm sure the office administrator can find a sick day for you."

You smile at him, and then remember the blood and grimace. I must look like Carrie right now, you think morosely.

"That won't be necessary, sir, thank you. It's apparently the dry air." You're starting to feel more and more warm under his serious gaze. There's a startling amount of concern there. "I'm gonna go clean up now. Excuse me," you say, face glowing with heat.

"Of course."

You cover your bloody face with the back of your hand, his handkerchief held in red-stained fingers. You pass Agent Prentiss on the stairs, hurrying past her with an I'm okay smile.

"Hotch, again?" you hear Agent Prentiss ask incredulously. "Where do you get off?"

—

You can't return Hotch's handkerchief, it's a biohazard, but the fabric had felt so soft and the monogram in the corner had cued you in on how expensive it must have been. Your guilt manifests itself into three new handkerchiefs with the embroidered A.H. They aren't half as nice as the one he'd let you ruin. You leave them on his desk — or rather, you get Dr. Reid to leave them on his desk, as walking into his office doesn't feel like something you're allowed to do — and try to forget about them.

For a week, you do. Agent Hotchner doesn't visit his office, Agent Jareau apprehends him on his way in that morning and the profiling team gather around their round table, and you don't see any of them for four days. The Friday they return, you're already on your way home.

That's why his actions the following Monday shock you.

It's unusual that he walks anywhere that isn't a straight shot to his desk. You're doing paperwork for once in your life, sitting awkwardly with your foot hooked under your thigh and a pair of wired earphones in. It's not technically allowed but he really doesn't venture over to you often. You've become complicit in your unsupervised nirvana of a desk job.

You snatch your earphone out and struggle into a normal position. "Agent Hotchner," you say, wondering if you should call him Special Supervisory, or maybe something cooler, like your Highness. Your grace. He's intimidating in his accomplishments at the FBI, and he's super handsome.

"Can I see you in my office? Ten minutes."

You nod brainlessly.

Your desk buddy doesn't wait long after he's left to investigate.

"What did you do?" they ask from across the short partition.

"I really don't know," you say, though you have your suspicions.

"Were you reading on your computer again? I told you, read under the desk like a normal person."

"No, I learned my lesson with that one when Agent Morgan started reciting Pride and Prejudice from over my shoulder."

You check your face in a compact before you report to Agent Hotchner's office. Your heart beats in your throat as you knock his open door.

"Come in," he says without looking up.

You take a cautious step.

He finishes off quickly and lifts his chin. His eyes are dark in the early morning light, his hair in mild disarray from the wind and drizzle.

"Come in," he says again.

You wish there was a word that could describe his voice accurately. He talks in the peaceable kind of cadence that comes with hushed tones without truly being hushed.

"Sir…" You bite the bullet. "If this is about the macadamia cookies, I promise I'll replace them. I didn't actually eat any of them. They kind of fell out of the cabinet and exploded, it was a freak accident."

He holds up his hand. "Thank you. For the handkerchiefs. They were unnecessary."

He says 'unnecessary' with a smile.

"Actually, sir, I think they were entirely necessary." You just disagreed with your boss. "Sir. I couldn't return the first, I ruined it and I- I didn't think you'd want it even if I got it dry cleaned."

He raises his eyebrows. "It was unnecessary," he repeats, the word drawn out carefully. "But, I appreciate the gesture. Thank you."

Two thank you's. You stop while you're ahead. "You're more than welcome, Agent Hotchner, sir."

You share an amicable glance and turn to leave.

"L/N?"

You stutter to a halt. "Sir?"

"Hotch is fine."

You try not to swallow your own tongue. "Hotch," you say, and then worry that's something people only do in movies.

A few days later, your humming along to your earphones and wading through the chaos of the bullpen feeling pretty happy. The office has been busy but not in the scary, suffocating way, and you're happy to be here. The BAU can be hard (and that's as someone who isn't on the front line). Times like this are cherished.

You pause a foot from your desk, eyes creasing into a suspicious squint.

There's a small box on your desk.

"What is that?" you ask your desk buddy.

"What?" they ask.

"That. There's a thing on my desk."

"Nothing to do with me."

"Think I should call the bomb squad?"

"I'm sure you'll be alright. Maybe read the note before you raise the alarm."

"There's a note?" you mumble, caution swiftly overrun by a burning curiosity.

You'd be sincerely worried about a bomb, only this is the FBI. If a bomb got this far into the building half the people in it would lose their jobs. You kick your bag under the desk and drop your ipod onto the desk, tinny music blaring from your earphones.

"What are you?" you ask under your breath.

The box is wrapped in crepe paper and a yellow sticky note has been attached to the top.

Rest assured, made without lead.

That only confuses you more. You're hesitance has your desk mate sitting up in their chair. "Wait," they say, peering over the glass partition, "should I raise the alarm?"

You slide a trim fingernail under a neat stripe of tape. "No, I think we're good," you mumble.

And lo and behold, a mug is homed inside. A Peanuts mug no less; the mug has been printed with a Peanuts comic panel. Charlie Brown lays on the floor in a straight plank, and standing overy him is his friend Linus, who says, "I have been asked to tell you that your cries of anguish are keeping the whole neighbourhood awake!"

You laugh loud and instinctively, shrill enough to attract the attention of half the office. Slapping a hand over your mouth, you slouch down as low as possible in your desk chair. Heat pools in your cheeks.

"What is it?" your desk mate asks.

"A present."

And hence your new favourite mug is brought into life. You write your name on the bottom with black sharpie and continue to deny all knowledge of the first, which you retire to the drawer of your desk.

For a while your nosebleeds go away. You know exactly who left the mug on your desk, and you remember the joke he'd made. Maybe Hotch had been on to something, and you'd inadvertently poisoned yourself.

You smile practically every time you see your new mug, and you're unsurprised when others appreciate its humour.

You're not sure how to explain it to an eight year old, though.

You're slumped over, nose to the desk and hand working diligently across your notes. Having a crush on your boss makes doing your work easier because you're constantly trying to impress him — an impossible task, but trying all the same. Your earphones bump a soft love song, something sweet to cut through the unhappy details of the case file you're working on.

"What are you listening to?" a small voice asks.

You drag your gaze up slowly and find Jack Hotchner standing beside your desk. You've seen him in person a few times, and once as Hotch's phone wallpaper, but he grows so much between visits you almost don't recognise him.

"I'm sorry," you say, pulling your earphone out, "what did you say?"

"What song are you listening to?" he asks, hands creeping up over the lip of your desk.

You sit up and smile at him. You can't say he looks like Hotch, though maybe you can see it in his tiny grin, that hint of cheekiness. "I'm listening to a song called At Last. It's a love song. Do you… want to listen?" you offer quietly.

He nods.

You push your chair away from your desk and turn down the ipod's volume so it doesn't damage his hearing. "Here," you say, offering one of your earbuds. "Don't push it in, okay? I don't want it to hurt your ears."

Jack takes the proffered earbud but doesn't seem super interested. "Do you have The Beatles?" he asks.

"The Beatles! Is that what you and your dad listen to?"

He nods, pleased, and you nod yourself, flicking through your songs in search of what he wants.

"I have Here Comes the Sun. Do you like that one?"

He beams. "Yes! Me and dad sing that one in the car."

That's a really nice image, Hotch and Jack belting happy lyrics together in the busy mornings. It's also odd. Hotch singing isn't an image you can say you've ever thought of before.

"I love this one," you tell him, letting your elbows dig into your thighs so the two of you are eye level with one another.

"Me too."

You share the earbuds, Jack combing your desk for something interesting no doubt. You cover a case detail that involves some gory images and almost knock over your mug in your haste.

"What does that say?" he asks, pointing.

Jack looks between you and the mug for answers.

You lick your lips. "Uh, do you want me to read it to you?"

He thinks about it. "Can I try?"

"Of course you can."

You clear a path for the mug and place it in front of him.

"I have been asked to tell you," he begins confidently, "that your cries of an-" He frowns. "Anguish are keeping the whole ne… I don't know that."

"I'm sure you do, it just looks weird. Neighbourhood."

"Neighbourhood," he repeats. "Keeping the whole neighbourhood awake." He huffs a boyish, gentle laugh that makes your heart spin.

"Good job, buddy."

He melts under your praise. He's a cute kid, and his hair shines golden under the office lighting. It flops to one side as he tilts his head. "What's 'anguish'?"

"Anguish. Uhm, it's like sadness."

"Oh." He takes this in. "Do you have Let It Be?"

You eventually give up your chair and let Jack sit with your ipod in his lap, playing through all The Beatles songs that you have. Nobody seems to be watching you and Hotch has yet to come out of his office and tell you off for supplying his son with technology, so you work around him, leaning over the back of the chair to fill in what's missing from your reports.

Jack leans back in his chair, his adorable singing coming to a stop. "Do you have movies on the computer?"

Yes, but should my boss' son know that? "It's for work," you say regretfully.

"Not even FernGully?"

"I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. "It's okay, it's not your fault."

"Do you like to draw? I don't have many colours, but we can play a game."

He smiles for a moment, then hesitation crawls over his features. "Dad says not to disturb anyone."

"I'm on my lunch break," you assure him. You hadn't been, but you don't mind taking it now. "Are you hungry? I have oranges."

You and Jack end up sitting under your desk. You really don't mean to end up like that; you sit on your knees because your back has started to ache and Jack wants to sit with you. You can't say no to him. (You could, you just don't want to.)

"What did she say after that?" you ask, fingers digging into two orange segments to pull them apart. You shave off all of the strands of white pith before you pass it to Jack, who says thank you every time.

"She said to ask Stacy who said to ask Morgan P who said to ask Joan. And Joan said she didn't wanna know, but then she changed her mind after I told her abd she said to ask Cooper."

"What did Cooper say?"

"Cooper says he doesn't think he knows where it is."

You nod, chewing your own orange slice slovenly. "Well, what did your dad say?"

"I haven't told dad."

You lift your head from the paper where Jack has drawn an impressive house with five windows. "You haven't told your dad?"

"He worries about everything."

"That's his job, Jack. He has to worry about you."

"He worries about everybody."

"Some people do." You clean another orange slice for him, and he says thank you again. "You're welcome… Jack, I really think you should tell you dad. It sounds like somebody might have taken your pencil case on purpose. And even if he can't find out who did, he can get you some new pencils for school."

"I told mom but she hasn't done anything yet."

Your stomach hurts.

"Well," you murmur, picking up the green pen, "I'm sure she's trying her best, baby. Can I help colour in these trees?"

You and Jack fall into a companionable silence, his head bobbing to You Make My Dreams (Come True) the cutest thing you've ever seen. You're not sure how long you sit there, but all good things must come to an end, and your half hour for lunch draws to a close.

"Hey, Jack?" you say, straightening where you kneel and preparing to stand. "I have some stuff I have to do but you're welcome to stay there."

Unfortunately, you don't manage to grab his attention. Double unfortunately, somebody else does.

"Morgan, where's Jack?"

You peek past your desk chair. A little ways away, Hotch stands looking sick to his stomach, and Agent Morgan looks lost.

"I didn't have him?"

"I asked him to sit with you," Hotch says miserably, throwing his gaze over the office. "Jack?"

Jack hears that loud and clear. Something in his dad's tone must spark some urgency, as he stands in a rush and trips on his own shoelace, smacking the top of his head into your nose.

You gasp.

"Ouch," Jack moans.

Blinking, you shake off your disorientation. "Oh no, are you okay? Here, sweetheart, stand up," you encourage gently, "I'm so sorry, have I hurt your head?"

Jack's gaze to the floor, he rubs the top of his head with a clumsy hand. "It's okay, Miss Agent, it wasn't you and-" He stares at you.

"What?" you ask.

"Dad!" he shouts, backing away from you. "Daddy!"

Jack runs out of your little alcove and straight into his father's legs, almost bowling him over. Hotch drops two relieved hands down to his small shoulders. "What?" he asks, startled, "What happened?"

Your nose stings, admittedly, but you've felt worse. It's a light throbbing that distracts you entirely from the blood racing down your lips until you taste it.

Shit, you think, crawling out from under the desk with one hand, the other clamped over your bleeding nose. Your movement draws Hotch's attention, which in turn gathers at least a quarter of the office's.

"I didn't mean to," Jack says shrilly.

"It's okay. It wasn't your fault," you say stuffily, clambering onto shaky legs.

You turn your head away from the collective gaze of the office and start toward the kitchen and hear at least three different people say, "Wait!"

You ignore them, using your elbow to help tear off a paper towel from the roll and pushing it without finesse against your face. You squirm under the weight of tens of eyes, more embarrassed than anything else, worse when a warm hand turns you by the shoulder.

"He really didn't mean to," you say, looking up into Hotch's concerned face.

"I know."

"Is he okay?”

"He's not the one with a nosebleed," Hotch says, neither kind nor unkind.

"I honestly didn't even feel it."

His fingers curl around your wrist, a slow tightening. "That doesn't surprise me, Y/N."

You bite your tongue to stop from laughing. “He bumped his head into me."

"Mm. Just a red mark. It won't even bruise."

You deflate in relief. "Oh, good."

Hotch's hands have found their way onto yours. He pulls one from your nose, gaze hardening at the strong river of blood that makes its way into the dip of your cupid's bow.

"I'm sorry, sir."

He shakes his head and gathers another wad of tissue paper, a light blue that quickly turns to a wine dark when he presses it to your face. Your heart hammers at his proximity, a thousand and one nerves aflame.

He's close but not too close, nothing anyone could mistake for something else, and still it feels like a strangely intimate moment. His careful touches. He directs your hand to hold a fresh paper towel to the stream of blood and discards the bloody tissue. You watch him push up his sleeves carefully and give his hands a quick rinse in the sink before he dampens another paper towel.

It's cool against your neck.

"I think your shirt is ruined," he says, dabbing at a line of dried blood.

You shiver at the feeling of cold water dripping under your starched collar.

"Does it hurt?" he asks, moving up to your jaw.

You don't know how to admit it to him. No, it doesn't hurt. Your hands are really warm, and you're touching me so gently I can barely feel it.

"A little."

"Well, Jack is very sorry."

"He doesn't have to be. He tripped, he…" You fade off as Hotch lays his hand across your cheek, thumb lifting your head slightly so he can clean your chin.

"How are you faring?" he asks.

You pull your tissue away and wait for the tell-tale heat of continued blood flow. You're ashamed to admit it but you're almost glad it hasn't stopped, Hotch's hand warm and large and impossibly comforting. Nosebleeds don't stress you out, exactly, but it's not fun to be covered in your own blood at work where everyone can see you. It's nice to have somebody wiping it away.

"I think I'll live," you say.

—

Jack sends you an apology card.

It's hand delivered. Hotch is coming up to the BAU main floor as you're heading out. Like a rock dividing a river, his teammates stream from the elevator around you and Hotch remains inside.

"I'll catch up," he promises.

Agent JJ raises her eyebrows. Agent Morgan chuckles.

You draw in on yourself self-consciously. You don't dress as nicely when he isn't here, and today you're rivalling Dr. Reid for most lovable dork in a pair of brown pants and a big sweater. Teetering the line between professional and unprofessional.

"Sir," you greet, stepping into the elevator.

He presses the ground floor button. "I have something for you."

Your eyebrows jump up high. Hotch unzips the main zipper of his duffle back and threads between clothes and papers for a smaller envelope.

"It's for you."

You accept, careful not to tear the thin sheet of folded paper as you pull it free. You're thrilled to see a drawing of Charlie Brown on the front, crudely drawn but clearly him with his head-wrapped in bandages. His puppy Snoopy sits beside him with something in his hands. You're not sure what.

The inside is even sweeter.

To Y/N

I am sorry if I made your nose angwished. Please feel better soon

Love, Jack Hotchner.

"Oh, I love it," you say, rubbing your thumb over a heart drawn in red crayon. "He's really something else, Hotch. He's brilliant, and so smart. I mean, anguished."

He laughs and it twists your chest in five different directions. "He is."

"It wasn't his fault though. If my nose weren't so sensitive it really wouldn't have bled at all, I didn't bruise. How is he? Did his head feel better?"

The doors open. You hesitate, waiting for his reply.

"Children are made of harder stuff than we are," he says.

You step backwards out of the elevator. "I felt so bad. I don't suppose he'll want to come and sit with me again."

"Actually," Hotch says, stepping out of the elevator just as the doors close again, "he thinks you're, uh, in his own words, the 'coolest friend' I've ever had."

"Friend," you repeat with a smile.

You've focused on the wrong word, and you worry an awkward silence will ensue, but Hotch steps up to the plate and says, "Yeah. He wouldn't stop telling me about all the cool songs you have on your ipod."

"Purely for non-working hours."

"Right." His smile says that he's seen straight through you.

You're thinking maybe he likes what he sees.

"This is really amazing," you reaffirm, pressing Jack's card to your chest.

"He felt guilty."

"He doesn't have to. Please, tell him I said thank you. And that he's amazing. And that my nose was being dramatic." You smile softly. "He can sit with me whenever he likes."

"Maybe at the desk, next time, rather than under it."

"Yes, sir."

You nod at him and he nods back, and you take it as a dismissal, turning on your heel. You've barely walked a metre when he's speaking up.

"Y/N?"

You look at him from over your shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Are you hungry?"

You bite your cheek in a hurry to answer, “Yeah. I’m starving.”

Your heart is basically a ticking time bomb in your chest as you and Hotch make your way into the heart of the city. He's a fast walker with long legs and you rush to keep up. That’s totally why you’re breathless. Not because he makes you nervous.

Hotch is a really surprising guy, though maybe he isn’t surprising at all, you’re simply unversed in how he is outside of work. He talks more and his voice grows louder the further into the city you go, more expressive.

You’re no profiler, but you’d bet money on Aaron Hotchner being nervous.

Good thing you’re nervous, too.

“It’s not far now. You like Thai?” he asks.

“Yeah, of course. Have you ever had Tom Yum?”

“With shrimp?”

“Exactly.”

“I think I’ve tried it. I lived off of pad Thai when I was a prosecutor,” he says, head tilting back very slightly. His Adam’s apple works under the skin.

He looks back down, a sheepishness to his voice as he continues, “A lot of late nights.”

“More than now?” you ask skeptically.

His laugh is low and warm. “No. The firm was much closer to the city than the bureau. It’s a long walk.”

“It is,” you say, taking a small step closer to his side to share a secret smile, “but it hasn’t felt that way tonight.”

You try to keep it light. You don’t want to scare him off.

“No,” he agrees. “It hasn’t.”

You duck into a fragrant Thai restaurant and order fast, the two of you knee to knee in the very corner. A potted plant threatens to blind him every time he moves, and so he endeavours to stay very still.

The food's a little on the spicy side, and while you're laughing you can't find it in you to feel embarrassed about your runny nose.

"You didn't like Seinfeld?" you ask, and how you got here's a mystery, but Hotch is extremely passionate about it in the best way.

"No, of course not. How could you? George was always worrying about something, he was the definition of a self-fulfilling prophecy and he never learned!" he debates, all in a rush, chopsticks moving in emphasis.

You snort and wipe your nose again. "It was like a relief, though, that it was happening to him and not to you, you know? You might be having a bad day but George Costanza's having a worse one."

"Oh, honey," he says.

It takes you a second to realise that he's talking to you.

"What?" you ask, perplexed.

Hotch stands up though there's no space for it, chopsticks ditched and hand pushed into the recesses of his pocket swiftly. He pulls out a small packet of tissues, and he lifts his chin, a jut. You lift your own, and he's quick to press the tissue to your nose.

"It's bleeding?" you ask, startled.

"Just a little."

"Sorry."

"No, no," he says, bent down, a comforting hand around your shoulder, "don't be. It gives me an excuse."

"To do what?"

"To be this close."

Your smile is a slow, molasses thick thing. You can't get a handle on it, and Hotch's answering one is worse. He looks so happy to be here with you, to be wiping your bloody nose.

It's only a small nose bleed. Hotch pulls the tissue away once or twice to check, wiping at it tenderly and giving you a comforting squeeze each time. The silence feels natural as breathing.

"There," he says eventually, pulling the bloodied tissue away with a smile. "All done."

"Thank you, Hotch."

"I'd think you'd better start calling me Aaron, considering."

"Considering what?"

His hand climbs from your shoulder to the column of your throat. He doesn't make you wait any longer, leaning down with a sure, brave deliberateness. He presses his lips to yours.

A sweet kiss but too short — barely two seconds and he's taking a half-step away, your lips tingling in want.

You go to stand and he pushes you down into your seat, not unkindly. "I'm gonna go see if I can get some hot water for you," he says, placating your gutted look with a kiss to your cheek.

He wipes it thoughtlessly with the pad of his thumb before he goes.

You're genuinely surprised your nose doesn't start bleeding again at the look he gives you as he turns the corner toward the restaurant's kitchen. Protective, knowing. Your heart races in your chest.

You probe at your face, elated. Your sensitive nose is good for something after all.

—

The first time you sleepover with Aaron is an accident. You don't "mess around," as you'd crooned over the phone, joking but with enough salaciousness to make him smile. The gas and hot water had stopped working in your apartment, and though the landlord had promised they'd fix it the very next morning, Aaron couldn't stand to think about you cold and alone when you could easily be warm and with him.

So here you are.

"Are you sure this is okay?" you whisper, peering over his shoulder at Jack.

His son stands in the living room in his pyjamas.

"It's okay," he says, "I asked him, and you know he's obsessed with you. His one condition is that you watch FernGully."

"FernGully," you say, enthused.

"You'll like it."

You actually really do. Showered and dressed in your own pyjamas, a little shy but not too much to stop from laying against his side on the sofa. He's got one arm around you and one around Jack but he might as well be invisible, the two of you talking in murmurs across his chest.

"And that's-"

"Pips," Jack supplies helpfully.

"Pips," you say, hand spread over Aaron's chest.

If he didn't know better he'd think this was a slice of heaven.

"So many people," you whisper in Aaron's ear.

"More in the second one."

"There's two?"

After the movies finished — "It was better than you said, Jack," — and dinner’s been eaten and cleared away, Aaron takes Jack to bed.

"Do you want a story?" Aaron asks, flitting around the room in a half-hearted attempt to square away the mess.

"No."

"You sure?"

Jack's eyes are heavy, and they have been since dinner. "Yes," he mumbles, face turned into his pillow, hands lax on top of his blanket.

Aaron smiles and makes his way to Jack's side. He kisses his son's cheek, and strokes the soft hair from his face. He smells like strawberry toothpaste and kids shampoo.

You're sitting on the end of the bed when he gets to you, face damp with skincare and shining in the light. Aaron kisses you without touching it, worried he'll mess it up.

“He’s wiped. All the excitement,” he says.

“Excitement- From me?” you ask.

“From you.” He puts his hands carefully either side of your neck.

You haven’t been dating very long, and still he knows how easy it is to fluster you. And while he loves to see it, see you giddy and shy, blinking at nothing like there’s a light shining in your eyes. He’d once pressed his thumb with the very faintest of pressure into your windpipe while kissing you, and you hadn’t been able to look him in the eye for three days.

He loves that, but he’d prefer if you slept facing him. He wants to see what you look like asleep, as odd as it sounds, he assumes you’ll be beautiful. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were more.

“Aaron,” you whisper.

“What?”

“Want me to massage your bad shoulder?”

He wonders, as he thinks is more than allowed, if that’s a seduction trick, but you genuinely just give him a massage, as you have a couple of times in his office after noticing how sore it gets now the weather’s cold.

You rub into the problem spot carefully, sighing with sympathy. “Oh, baby,” you say, more to yourself than him.

He fucking loves the way you say it. Aaron’s never been called baby like that — like it’s his name, and it’s sweet to say. Your tired yawns warm the back of his neck as you go. He doesn’t think he’s getting lucky tonight, and he doesn’t care one bit. He feels pretty lucky just having you near.

He gets you under the covers before you can fall asleep against his back and makes sure you know how grateful he is for the massage with two kisses. The first is a genuine thank you and the second is to make you laugh, nipping and playful under your jaw.

Aaron falls asleep thinking about it.

He wakes to something much less idyllic.

It’s that strange feeling. Being a dad has honed it, but he’s always had it. It’s one of the things that makes him so good at his job, a prickling at the back of his neck. At first he can’t pin it down.

Your waist rises under his hand with your breathing. He remembers that you’re there and smiles contentedly, hand sliding behind your back to pull you in. You’d fallen asleep on your back, and you’ve turned toward him in your sleep.

The metallic stick of blood is sudden and sharp in his nose. He knows what it is before he opens his eyes. The room is dark, lit only by the red light of his alarm clock on the nightstand. His eyes ache with fatigue, and he knows in his gut that it’s too early to get up.

Blood pools under your nose. Not a lot, nothing to panic over, but blood all the same. He sits up, quickly turns on his bedside lamp, and rouses you as gently as he can, a hand slid under your shoulders to drag you up.

You blink blearily. “What?” you ask, voice scratchy.

“Nosebleed,” he informs, pinching your nose before blood can slink down your neck and ruin your pyjama shirt.

You wince and he hates the way you flinch away from his touch, your clouded confusion. It’s only a second but it doesn’t sit right with him.

“Sorry, honey.”

You catch hold of his bicep and blink some more.

“You okay to pinch it yourself? I’ll go grab some tissue paper.”

You nod robotically and replace his light pinching with your own, much less kind. He rushes to grab a roll of toilet paper from the bathroom, and when he returns you've pulled yourself into an alert sitting position, awaiting his return.

He tears you off a wad of paper. “Here, honey.”

“I think it’s stopped.”

“Yeah? Let me grab you a towel.”

Back to the bathroom. When he returns for the second time you’re holding his given toilet paper against your face. He’s alarmed to find your eyes glassy with tears, shimmering in the bedroom light.

“What’s wrong?” he asks softly, sitting across from you.

He’d been right about sleepy you. You look lovely, a little funny with your rumpled pyjamas, and now quite sad because of your tears. “Honey,” he says again, pulling your hand from your face so he can assess the damage, “you’re okay. Is it hurting?”

You’ve told him before the nosebleeds are painless, but maybe they’re a symptom of something, maybe you’re sick—

“I ruined your pillow,” you mutter.

Ah. That’s much better than your being sick. He can work with that easily.

“You didn’t ruin anything.”

He takes your chin between his thumb and his forefinger to lift your head. The blood has stopped already; your nosebleeds are often a whirlwind, over by the time you’ve started panicking.

“I’m sorry.”

He drops your bloodied tissue into his lap and brings the dampened towel to your face. He’s cautious. Your nose gets irritated and any roughness could disrupt the blood clot or agitate the anterior blood vessels inside.

“You think I’m mad over a pillow?”

“No, of course not.”

You sound stuffy. It’s adorable. Adorable and sad. He rubs the hill of your chin in a show of affection.

“Then why?”

“Sorry, I think I’m just tired. I- I was trying to make tonight perfect because,” — a small tear bumps down your cheek — “it’s our first night together even if it was accidental.”

He dabs at your upper lip and the wet blood there with a smile growing. “It was perfect. It is perfect. You getting a nosebleed on a seven dollar pillow doesn’t change that.” His hand moves to your cheek, squashing your baby tear. “You know I love any opportunity to touch you… Now, do you want a glass of water?”

You close your eyes and lean your face heavily into his palm. “Can I have one of those kisses from earlier?”

“Can you keep your blood inside your body?” he asks with a smile, rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

“Depends how hard you bite me.”

He’s very, very gentle.

—

Aaron breaks his nose. You are not supposed to know that he breaks his nose, only he breaks it so bad that he has to go to the hospital to get it set, and he decides he’d like you there.

Technically, somebody else broke his nose. The details aren’t important. What matters is that Aaron makes a rookie mistake and he has to deal with the consequences, which is a biting, aching pain behind his eyes and a trip to the ER. He does not let them take him in an ambulance, and it really isn’t urgent. He sits in a waiting room chair with a stiff back and it doesn’t take long before you’re striding inside looking terrified.

“Hey, baby,” he says, testing it out. He doesn’t really like it.

“What did they give you?” you ask, bending at the waist to take his face into your kind hands.

“Vicodin when I got here.”

“Lucky you.” You turn his face in your hands.

“You look beautiful,” he says.

“I wish I could say the same, but somebody messed you up bad.”

He laughs and takes your face into his hands, the two of you smiling way too much for the situation that you’re in. “I was so worried,” you say with a little laugh.

He kisses you soundly. It hurts, but it’s worth it.

They call his name not long after and a nurse takes you both into a grey examination room. The doctor is a short, stern woman who has to use a stool to reach Aaron’s face, and she sets his nose with a swiftness that even he manages to recognise for the brutality that it is in his drug haze.

You hold his hand. He has to try very hard not to crush your fingers.

It starts bleeding immediately.

Aaron meets your gaze over the doctor's head, eyes wide and in similar fashion as your own, and he knows it’s an adverse reaction to shocking pain but he starts giggling. Aaron Hotchner doesn’t giggle, really. He laughs, and sometimes when he’s with Jack that laugh can get super loose and high, but this is a bona fide giggle.

You try to gasp in shock but you’re laughing too. “Aaron,” you reproach.

He holds his breath as the doctor presses gauze to his face.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he says.

You snicker behind your hand. The doctor presses gauze to his face and rolls her eyes. She likely does not get paid enough.

“You’re still handsome,” you say giddily.

“Oh, well that's good.”

There’s a small silence rife with tension, and when it breaks it bursts like a dam. You laugh so hard you end up clinging to his arm, chest pressed to his bicep. He strokes the back of your head with a wobbly hand, wondering how miserable he’d be if you weren’t here with him right now.

“What happened to keeping all your blood inside your body, Hotchner?” you ask, delighted.

He beams at you dopily. “I’ve never been any good at that.”

You kiss his forehead. The doctor is furious.

༺༻

6K notes · View notes

tangerinesilk · 9 months

Text

－ I CAN SEE YOU : TANGERINE X FEM!READER

tangerine is going on a solo mission… well, at least he thinks he is. with lemon missing by his side, he’s left with one other option that is supposed to make his job easier. unfortunately for him, you’re not the easiest to work with. stubborn, strong-minded and feisty. you’re both so alike yet nothing has made your bloods boil more than each other.

rating ✷ r (18+ minors dni!)

warnings ✷ (very quick) smut: fem receiving, kisses all over bodies, a needy but quick hj, p in v, dirty talk, praising, implied rough (consensual) sex / others: cursing, drinking alcohol, mention and use of guns and violence, male hurting female (?) but not between main characters, mentions of blood and wounds.

tropes ✷ enemies to lovers!!!, person a is all talk no bite + person b knows that but still pushes them, playful banter, hiding together in small spaces, fake dating (?), if one is hurt– the other goes a bit crazy, says ‘i dont care’ then cares 5 seconds later.

word count ✷ 6k!

songs that fit the vibe ✷ i can see you - taylor swift | moth to a flame - swedish house mafia + the weeknd | king of my heart - taylor swift | attention - charlie puth | nonsense - sabrina carpenter

a/n ✷ so i made a poll a months ago and this trope + pairing won! i’ve honestly been wanting to write a dave lizewski one as well and got a request idea. so.. we will see lmao. i will probably post then maybe edit later if there's still things i don't like... also, if you couldn't tell but im kind of a swiftie so i will love to write fics inspired by whole ass albums y'all.

but i hope this is what u guys expected and wanted. i actually do love writing for tangerine. just gives into my delulu thoughts. also, if you guys would like a plain pwp fic and not all of this fluff and dialogue stuffed inside, pls let me know bc i am definitely into that idea. 🫡

“You had to go and get yourself shot… then you wonder why you have to wear a bulletproof vest. Fuckin’ hell.”

Tangerine kept his voice at a hushed tone, basically talking under his breath as he strutted through the grand hall of the hotel. Golden light glossed over his figure, passing by couples who were at standing tables with their cocktails.

“Well, Thomas said-”

“Thomas didn’t say shit. Don’t get me fuckin’ started now.”

Lemon already knew Tan was in a bad mood. Another Thomas the Tank Engine factoid wasn’t a playful move right now.

“Hey, mate. Don’t get all fussy wit’ me. You’re just mad about your new partner for the night.” Lemon rolled his eyes.

“Can’t believe I can’t be held accountable of myself. I can handle it on my own but you had to call the fuckin’ princess-”

“She’s good. Your denial is obnoxious, bruv. It’s only a night, you get in and get out.” Lemon replied, holding his wounded side as he laid in his bed back in England, “What happened between you two that you’ve got beef like this?”

“No time to explain nor do I have the patience.” He arrived at the small bar to the side of the room, “If I leave her behind, can I take half the pay that’s supposed to be hers?” Tangerine asked.

“She’s supposed to be wearing a red dress. You’ll see her there… and please don’t cause a scene.” His brother begged.

“No promises.” He replied before hanging up.

Tangerine blows a sigh past his lips, quickly asking for his drink of choice before scanning the mass of people around him. His blue eyes could only search so fast for the man that the hit was called on, causing him an instant frustration when he’s already worried about you ruining things regardless of how long you’re together.

“He’s next to the woman in the tacky gold ballgown… about two feet away from the ice sculpture.” Your soft voice suddenly spoke next to him, “But, I didn’t need to tell you that, right?”

The smirk on your face burned at his nerves and you noticed the clench in his jaw.

“Well, if it isn’t the fuckin’ Queen herself.” He said in a stern tone, “What? Germany was too borin’ for ya? Had to figure out a way to ruin someone’s operation?”

“Lemon is the one who called me in, and it isn’t about you. It’s about the pay out… you’re bound to screw something up with your ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ tactic.” You trailed, rolling your eyes as you turned your head away.

“And I’m certainly not afraid to use that tonight and not your fucked up, painfully long mind games like some fuckin’ psycho thilling killer.” He spat as his drink was place in front of him.

You narrowed your eyes at him, “Fuck you.”

“Darling, I’m flattered, but we have more important things to do right now.” He lowly groaned, purposefully looking at his target so his back was facing toward you.

Behind his tall stature, you glimpsed past his shoulder and saw your target chatting up a woman.

He won’t be smiling for long, you thought.

“Alright, I’ll wait for him to slip away, follow him and you go through the kitchen.” Tangerine said under his breath, keeping quiet for only you to hear him.

“To go where?” You ask, walking around him to stand face to face.

“Erm…” He sighed, “Whatever car or vehicle you got here in, drive yourself back to whatever place you’re staying and I’ll figure out how to wire you the money.” He shrugged, downing the rest of his drink.

He took a step but you placed your hand on the center of his chest, “Not so fast. I’m not going down if you make a mess of this.”

“I don’t make messes. Well, actually, I get away with them once I’ve done ‘em so, I don’t need to worry about a liability.” Tangerine smirked, a bit of a tilt to his head. Cheeky bastard.

“The only liability here is the one who is ready to pull the trigger in his back.” You said before huffing, “I’m not sorry for what happened in Paris, but that was my choice. So, I’m going with you because it’s our operation. You know… I don’t need a fucking helping hand either.” You practically growled.

The two of you held a long gaze, creating a tense eye contact before he sighed, “Didn’t even say anythin’ about Paris, but if you’d like to assume I’m still mad ‘bout that, be my guest, princess.”

His shoulder bumped yours, making you clench your jaw before quickly following behind his tall stature. While he seemed persistent, you grabbed his hand which made him stop in his tracks in the middle of the dance floor.

He turned, “Am I your babysitter?”

“No, you’re my date. Hold my hand, you idiot.” Your eyes pierced through his.

As he looked down at your hand, he slowly grasped it, your fingers intertwining with one another’s before he proceeded through the glamorous crowd.

Couples swayed and waltzed between each step you took, assuming you were unnoticed by your target. Tangerine kept his eyes on him, easy to with the frosty-white full head of hair he had slicked back. The woman in the tacky dress ran her hand down his shoulder, pressing her lips to his ear to whisper something which made you and Tangerine veer to the side at a standing table.

“Are they movin’?” He asked, facing his back toward them.

Your eyes smoothly shift, taking a quick glance at the assumed couple. You ran your hand down Tangerine’s arm, accidentally feeling how toned his bicep was through the thick fabric of his suit jacket. You almost glanced down, wanting to give another squeeze before clearing your throat. A heat rose on your cheeks as you turned your head to face away from him.

“Y-Yeah, near the bathroom. There’s also a backdoor that leads up to the second floor… lots of private rooms for reasons that are obvious.” You said in a hushed tone, moving away from him to the other side of the table.

“Alright, since you wanna tag along, I’ll follow them and you cover the door.” Tangerine suggested once again.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “You do understand what teamwork is, yes?”

He chuckled, “Yes, I go up there, shoot a few rounds, then we make a getaway.”

“Will you just trust me?”

“Your trust means nothing… I need to know you’re not going to fuck anything up. Just like in Paris.”

You smirked, “So you do have that against me.”

“Well, it’s not like it was your best. Leave me with a shot in the arm, Lemon on the ground and you, little miss greed, get away with your cash. If we all did this job for money, we wouldn’t be riskin’ our lives just runnin’ around killin’ or resucin’ people just for someone’s dime. You obviously do though.”

You narrowed your eyes, “You don’t know me…”

“Nor do you know me so…” He huffed, “Let’s just do what we have to do.”

There was tension between you, as if there was more fo a protective instinct than hate toward one another. You couldn't figure out Tangerine’s deal. Why was he so hostile toward you? Yes, what happened in Paris was fucked up, but he wasn’t the type to hold a grudge. He didn’t take shit from anyone, so why were you getting under his skin?

“Shit!” He grunted under his breath, seeing your target disappear into the hall.

The two of you hurry, yet still try to act casual to not raise eyebrows, and exit into the same hallway. As you push open the door, you hear the two talking in the stairwell before another door closes.

“You got your gun on you?” He asked as his hand slid into the back of his pants.

“Of course.” You scoffed, tearing up the slit in your dress. He saw the small pistol strapped to your thigh, making his mouth a bit dry.

He nodded, “Good…”

Taking a quick breath, Tangerine opened the door. You slipped through and he followed behind, your backs facing one another as you scanned the hallway. It wasn’t narrow but if anyone slipped out of one of the rooms, they were right in your sights.

“I’ll take this one, you take that one.” He whispered, pointing his gun to the opposite door of his.

With your heart in your throat, you slowly crack the door open and don’t see anyone before a body flies from behind and slammed the door open from Tangerine’s side. The woman lied dead on the floor, blood all over his dress, and just as you turned around, a punch slid across your cheek.

Instinctively, you ducked to dodge the second jab and swoop under to get on the other side of the man as Tangerine wrapped his arms around the guy to pull him to the ground.

Tan loudly grunted as he tried to gain control, basically attempting to straddle him in order to push his arm against his neck. Even with all his strength, the man gripped his hands around Tangerine’s arms to throw him off along with trying to push his knee between his crotch.

“Watch the door!” Tan directed to you.

You nodded, catching your breath with your back against the wall by the door. The adrenaline ran through your veins and heard your heartbeat in your ears as one tear of blood dripped down your cheek. The crack of bones made you turn your head, seeing the man’s body go limp as Tan began to stand over him.

He quickly walked over the man, as if he was in the way, and comes to your side.

“He nicked you bad. Lemme see.” Tan said, your eyes meeting his as he held your cheek. The touch of his hand seemed to be some comfort, his thumb wiping the blood away and trying to see how bad the wound was.

“Bastard.” He muttered, “C’mon, let’s go before someone comes up.”

Without a word in, he grabbed your hand and dragged you behind his lead. You two headed for the exit door down the other side of the hall as you heard footsteps rumble from the other stairs you came up.

“Wait a minute.” Tan said, fiddling with his belt buckle.

Your eyes widen, “What on earth are you doing?”

He smirked, “Relax, darling. You flatter yourself too much.”

You rolled your eyes as the sound of his belt slid against the fabric of his belt loops before curling the leather strap around the door to keep it locked. The two of you fled down the stairs and suddenly found yourselves in the kitchen area. A few eyes followed as you both ran through, very obvious that you were running from something, but still aimed to get to some kind of exit.

With sudden luck, Tangerine saw his car across the street, instantly knowing which way he was supposed to go. Without skipping a beat, he grabbed your hand once more and the two of you ran across the street. Hopping into the passenger seat and Tan taking off was like a blur, just happening in seconds.

“Y/N?” Tan saying your name woke you from your trance.

“Huh?” You asked, shaking your head.

He quickly turned his head, “You alright?” He said with concern, one hand on the steering wheel and his foot easing off the gas.

“Y-Yeah, I’m okay. I don’t know what happened back there.” You trailed, a bit embarrassed. You were never one to let your guard down, well– enough to get hit right smack in the face.

“Are you sure?”

You turned your attention to him, “I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” You asked rhetorically.

“‘Cause of that big cut on your cheek.”

You narrowed your eyes, “Alright, what’s your big plan now, Einstein? Were just going to sleep in your car and hope we don’t wake up decapitated?”

He half-chuckled, “You truly think so little of me, don’t you?”

“Is that rhetorical?”

Tan rolled his blue eyes, “We’re goin’ somewhere safe.”

– – –

You wanted to believe you were strolling into some kind of trap. The lobby had a classic aesthetic to it, pale gold wallpaper and a wall of keys behind the person at the small front desk. You two placed your go-bags on the red carpeted ground as Tangerine checked into a room.

“Hello Mr. Tangerine.”

Oh, great. He’s some guest of honor here.

“‘Ello, Colin. My usual room.”

“Is that what you say in front of all the girls?” You tilted your head, standing behind him.

He rolled his eyes, “‘Cuse her.”

The man chuckled, crinkles by his eyes, “How many nights are you staying this time?”

This time. You could scoff out loud but you didn’t want to hear the tude from him.

“Just overnight. Nothin’ too serious.”

“Well, enjoy your stay, as always.” The man nodded before Tangerine thanked him.

The two of you head toward the old elevator, watching him quickly press the up button before you stand by his side. You half chuckled, “I’ve never seen you act so kindly toward anyone, tell me, does he see you bring girls through here all the time or-”

“Has anyone ever told you to shut your pie hole?”

“Hmm, not verbally. But, those eyes of your say enough for me… you’re too predictable, sometimes, Tan.”

He gave you a lingering look as the door opened, passing him into the elevator. The two of you make your way to the fifth floor and the hall is eerily quite for a hotel full of private contractors and assassins. You had your hands behind your back then patiently waited for Tangerine to jiggle the key into the lock, opening a door to a huge room with a surprisingly wide view.

“You’d think the curtains were closed.” You muttered as he walked over, closing them anyways.

Suddenly, he stripped from his suit jacket and you couldn’t help but see how tight his button up was around his biceps and chest.

“Did you get that a size too small?” You ask as you chunk your heels into the corner.

“Well, I certainly can’t kill fuckin’ bloaks wearing baggy clothes now.”

“But, you can in a three piece suit?” You cocked your eyebrow.

He licked his lips, “As if your dress is a flexible material.” Tangerine said as he pulled his rings off, placing them on the night stand.

“I can say the same for your pants.”

Tangerine wanted to look down but didn’t give into your comment. You place your bag down on the bed, grabbing your silk pajamas nearly folded on top and changed in the bathroom.

“God, just go to bed. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.” You somewhat groaned.

You sit on the top of the bed, unfolding the duvet before shoving it off to get underneath them.

Tangerine paused, “What the fuck do you you’re doin’?”

You furrowed your eyebrow, “This thing called going to sleep. Try it sometime, you’d be less grouchy.”

He rolled his eyes, “I know that, smartass, I mean what’re you doin’ in the bed that I’m goin’ to be sleepin’ in too?”

You rolled over, putting your weight on your elbows, “I know you’re dramatic but this takes the cake for top performances.”

He faked a laugh, “If you don’t get your ass out of that bed in two seconds, I’ll throw you in the tub with a pillow.”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to. Fine, do it.” You said before laying flat into the mattress, staring straight at the ceiling.

He didn’t care for your equal amount of sarcasm, but he just gave you a cocked eyebrow.

“Okay, fine. I’d rather sleep on the floor anyways.” He said, stretching his arms up and behind his head. Your eyes quickly admired his muscles before turning back.

“Be my guest, princess.” You scoffed, slipping on your pajama shorts, “I’ll enjoy my big comfy bed.”

You pulled the heavy duvet over your waist, curling up with the dense pillow beneath your head.

Tangerine stood there, biting the inside of his cheek as he watched you roll on your side. He tilted his head back before unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it on the desk chair. Although your eyes were closed, his side of the bed sunk in and you tried to hold back your smile at his faded stubbornness.

With your backs facing one another, you two just listened to the silence of the city. It gave you a moment to think of Paris– the last time you were with one another or much rather supposed to be against each other. You were a double agent, not exactly proud of it but you let greed take over your motivated justice.

Having to scam Lemon and Tangerine wasn’t your finest hour either, you thought about it for months and finally coming face to face with Tangerine (out of the two, he wasn’t the one you would want to bump into again), all the guilt came rushing back like the snap of an elastic band.

– – –

The morning sun runs through the thin silk of the curtains, shining over your bodies in the bed. You wake up to the sound of light snoring, happy that you could sleep through it, and Tangerine in a deep slumber with his arm over the bed. He suddenly looked like innocence, so soft and tender, simply laying there like it was any other day.

You sit up, putting your hair out of your face then head to the bathroom. When you turn the light on, you’re almost surprised to see your reflection. Forgetting about the scar against your cheek, you look more rough around the edges. You sigh as you run your fingers over it, remembering the way Tangerine did last night.

After washing up, you go back out and Tangerine is now standing up and stretching his arms above his head. Your eyes quickly shift up his body, admiring the tattoos in their random places and how the band of his briefs rest on his hips. You sealed your lips from smiling at how sharp his v-line was accompanied by the happy trail disappearing into his pants.

“Sleep good with that stick in your ass?” You retort, passing him.

He rolled his eyes, “...You’re annoying, ya know that?”

“Oh, you’ve made that clear.” You mocked him as you closed the curtains more, “That’s why I love to do it.”

Tangerine flicked on the lamp, giving the room a warm glow.

“Alright, I say we lay low today. Better to be out of sight and–”

You cut him off, “Stuck in this room together?... are you trying to kill me t–”

He then put his hand over your mouth, looking deep into your eyes, “Yes, stuck in this room where we can keep an eye on each other and you can’t screw me over again.”

Your heart stopped for a split second, as if he couldn’t have been more of the controlling one. He took his hand away and you gulped, “Yep. Fine. Fair.”

Tangerine pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek before you go to your bag in the chair that’s pushed in the corner of the room. You slightly bend over to look inside your duffle and his icy eyes can’t help but look up the back of your thighs and straight at your ass and lower back. How he could easily put his hands on your hips and make you hold onto something.

He shook his head, feeling like he was coming down with something to even imagine that thought.

You pulled out an old novel and sat yourself back on the bed, hoping that the hours would pass as you sank further into the broken-in mattress.

Tangerine sat down in the chair nudged into the corner, adjacent from your view, and he pulled out his gun that was conveniently tucked into the back of his pants.

“Are you actually holding me hostage?” You furrowed your brows, but didn’t take your eyes from your sentence.

“Whatever fantasy you’d like you believe.” He trailed, opening his gun and emptying his rounds into his palm.

– – –

Suddenly, you leaped out of a deep sleep. Your book laid open on your stomach while an extra pillow was between your legs. Your eyes fluttered open, thinking the past few days has been a dream, until you noticed Tangerine wasn’t sitting in the chair. You quickly looked around before hearing the bathroom door open and he stepped out, shirtless and in new dark slacks that rested on his hips.

Your mouth became dry. How could you dislike him so much yet here you are, ready to jump his bones as he crossed the room.

“What are you getting dressed for?” You asked, rubbing your eyes.

He half-chuckled at your groggy voice, “I want a drink.”

“Oh, like you’re not just going to abandon me here like I did you?... Where you go, I go.” You warned him.

He rolled his eyes, “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“A bit hypocritical coming from you.”

Tangerine just ignored your smart comment and opened the door, letting you through first before he followed. His eyes, once again, trace your lower back and trailed down your legs. His cheeks flushed pink as he quickly looked away, clearing his throat as he caught up to you so you two were walking side by side.

You pushed the faded down button as you pushed a big breath past your lips. Tangerine put his back against the wall and crossed his arms, his muscles basically restraining in his light button up. As you turned around, you rolled your eyes– but not at him, just at yourself. How could you have any little feeling for someone who also annoyed you to your core?

He took your silence as a bit of a tease. To be fair, you two didn’t really know one another. You met once before and then you simply betrayed him. Quickly, you were dead to him, but now you’re forced to be together and it raised an important question to himself too. Why was he helping someone who obviously can’t be trusted?

Tangerine furrowed his eyebrows at that thought, knowing he would have thrown you to the wolves last night after you closed your eyes. He played with his watch a bit before the elevator dinged and caught both of your attentions.

After entering, the low-sounding shifting mechanics of the elevator were the only sounds between you two. You heard Tangerine sniffle, seeing him stretch his neck out of the corner of your eye, but you kept a straight view to the doors. While Tangerine thought you were continuing to give him the silent treatment, you were lost in your own thoughts of the past.

You flashbacked to your last night in Paris together, and remembered how the guilt creeped up on you knowing that, in a few hours, you’d have to betray both Lemon and Tangerine. Before knowing them, you didn’t care, but now that you’ve realized how hard you were falling for Tan, it felt like a double edged sword. If you didn’t do it, maybe you could stay with him– have a life together. But, if you went through with your selfish heist, you’d lose the guy who made you comfortable with being vulnerable after a long time.

Obviously, you regretted your decision.

“Is this what you want?” You simply asked.

Tangerine quickly turned his head, “What?”

You rolled your eyes before facing his direction, “This.” You gestured between the two of you, “The weird animosity and constantly arguing and nit-picking?”

He never thought you’d be so bold to point it out, “I mean, we don’t like each other. Simple, isn’t it?”

“I guess…” You trailed, facing back toward the doors.

Tangerine licked his lips, wondering if he should utter the words on his tongue.

“...But, that doesn’t mean we can’t start over.”

You looked over your shoulder once more before turning around to him, “You mean that?”

He arched his eyebrow, “Should I regret it now?”

Just as the elevator dinged, the doors slowly opened and the hotel lobby appeared empty. You smirked to yourself, “Why don’t we catch up over that drink, huh?” You sort of teased– not sure if it had purpose.

– – –

Your drink tasted smooth, easily trailing down your throat as you leaned your head back to finish off the rest of the liquor in your glass. Once you tilted your head back straight, you were met with Tangerine’s signature eyebrow arch.

“Don’t worry, I’m paying for my own drinks.” You sighed, placing your glass back down on the wooden table top.

“As long as I don’t got to carry you back up to the room.” He sighed, sounding more defeated than witty, then his blue eyes glanced down then back into your eyes.

You hummed, running your finger along the rim of the empty glass.

“‘right so, what’ve you been doin’ since we last…” He cleared his throat, “saw one other?”

You crossed your leg over the other, “Not much. Actually, it’s the first time I’ve been out for a while. After leaving you guys, I laid low in Tuscany.”

“For how long?”

You shrugged, “Five months? I was on the countryside and I wanted to be alone…” then, you smirked, “I heard that you were in Kyoto.”

Tangerine could chuckle about it now, “For a bit. Had a job to do for some psychotic, fucked up family. The dad called in us, they were all turin’ on each other. Whole fuckin’ thing…”

“As in…” You trailed, “Against one another? The whole family?”

He just nodded before taking a sip of his drink.

You raised your eyebrows, “Wow… and you got out with no bruises or cuts? Bullet holes?”

Tangerine licked his lips before he presented the side of his neck, lighter skin over his tanner tone to show the scar. You carefully reached out, brushing your fingers against it which made a tingle go up his spine. You sit back down as he turned back in his chair, and he seemed to tense up.

“Amazing you survived it.” You sealed your lips.

He crossed his arms, “I supposed…”

A comfortable silent fell between you, the light, jazz music playing at a low, and Tangerine’s eyes trailed up the side of your bare leg. He didn’t mean to stare this much, but he felt more vulnerable than usual. One thing you knew is that Tangerine was a layered person, you had to take time to get to the center of him and realize he’s not so cold once you get to know him.

“Five months in Tuscany, I bet that was lovely.”

“Not really. I isolated the whole time… I wanted to be by myself, but I felt bad about what happened… what I did in Paris.” You admitted, but didn’t look into his eyes, fearing that he would turn on you in a second.

Tangerine sighed, “You had to do your job, we did ours… that’s ‘bout all that can be said.”

Assuming from the lack of eye contact and his tone, he seemed hurt too. You could easily let it boost your ego, but, you actually felt a relief. This hatred you’ve held against each other has finally come down and even though it wasn’t actually said, both of you can feel hostility leave the room.

You bit the inside of your cheek, “Remember, we’re starting over. Clean slate. I hope I’m making a good impression so far.” You raised your eyebrows, lifting your glass again just to drink the mixture of watered down liquor.

He chuckled, “You’re just lovely.”

The comment made your face get hot. You blame the accent and how it can just get under your skin.

“I don’t think you’ve ever called me something so nice.”

Tangerine smirked, “Funny since we’ve just met, darling.”

Darling.

It was the first time you heard it as a term of endearment then pure spite.

You rolled your eyes, but you could humor that Tangerine was going along with it. This new cheeky side of him was something you didn’t think existed– maybe it was the liquor talking, but you hoped it wasn’t just that simple.

“So, what brings you here?” You continued to tease, placing your elbows on the table, “Business… or pleasure?” Your hand laid on top of his, brushing your fingertips along the chunky rings that perfectly fit his fingers.

Multiples thoughts sounded through both your minds.

“Maybe it’s the liquor.” “Maybe we’re a little over our heads.” “Maybe we’re bored.”

But, Tangerine held your hand on top of the table, gently holding it as his thumb grazes over your knuckles.

“Depends…” He trailed, now leaning in too, “What are you here for?”

– – –

In just a few minutes, you two were back in the room you felt trapped in for hours.

Tangerine pressed your back against the wall, a tingle running up your spine from the coolness of the wallpaper. Your lips pressed together over and over, tilting your head before biting his bottom lip. He effortlessly lifted you up with his hand under the back of your thighs, and your ankles meet around his back.

He needed so bad, desperate even… and the feeling was mutual.

He put you down on your feet again, pressing a kiss against your scarred cheek then another on your jaw. His light kisses run down the middle of your breasts as his hand lifted up the end of your skirt. You pushed your hips out as your back was against the wall still, watching him pull down your panties in an instant. You kick them to the side and Tangerine placed your leg over his shoulder, kisses along your inner thigh and your hand ran through the front of his curls.

Suddenly, his tongue ran over your swollen clit before sucking on it. With one hand in his hair, the other caressing your breast and running your thumb over your nipple.

Tangerine panted, moving his hand against your pussy lips. He pushed them apart, showing your tight hole and how you clench around nothing. He lowly groaned, running his fingers over your clit before sliding his two fingers into your pussy. You bite your bottom lip to hold back the moan stuck in your throat, watching him suck your clit and finger you at the same time.

Just as your climax neared, he felt your cunt tighten around his fingers. He couldn’t end it like this so, he took them away. You let your leg down, watching him come back up and tower over you.

“If I’m goin’ to make you cum…” He sighed, “I’m gonna be deep inside you when you fucking crumble.” He said so low before pressing his fingers against your tongue, and you tasted yourself.

You pulled his hand back, running your thumbs over his tattooed hand.

“Not if I make you cum first.” You trailed, moving his hand down so you could kiss him.

He could drop to his knees in an instant, but Tangerine surprisingly kept his composure.

You smirked as you pushed him toward the bed, the back of his knees hitting it to make him sit down. As you stood in front of him, he leaned on his elbows as he watched your dress drop to the floor. It pooled at your ankles and when his eyes shifted back up, so glossed over, your bare body was the center of his attention.

“Hmm, I don’t think you’ll last.” You taunted.

As much as he could snap back, you straddled him and pulled apart his tightly buttoned shirt. Your hands ran over his toned and tatted chest before reaching down to his pants, unzipping the fly and he shuffled a bit to shift them off his hips. His cock was hard, restrained from his boxers and you felt flattered.

You giggled, leaning forward to share a slow kiss with him. Your bare pussy rubbed against his cock as you moved closer to him. A low groan mumbled between your makeout, and you pushed him back so you two both fell on the bed.

Your hands pressed into each side of the mattress, gaining strength to help yourself grind against his hard. His big hands tightly held your hips as you continued your smooth momentum, whimpering at your clit being rubbed by your harsh grind.

As heat rose in the room, your right hand dipped between the two of you, and ran over his hard cock once more. Tan’s lips now desperately met your jaw before taking a light bite at your neck. The feeling of your hand caressing through his boxers could make him release right there.

Becoming more impatient, you finally pushed your hand into the band of his boxers and he once more moved his hips to shift out of them.

“Fuck, your cock is so big… can barely hold it with my hand. God, I want you to stretch me out…” You moaned, “Is that okay?”

You purposefully let him believe that he was in charge, and you were falling into the submissive role. Tangerine gained a bit of confidence from your desperate comments, and he sat more up on the bed.

“Fucking christ…” Is all he could say.

He moved the swollen and red tip against your wet slit, also aching and needing your walls to wrap around him now. At first there was pressure, pushing the tip inside your hole then slowly guiding your hips down to completely take in every inch of his cock.

Once he bottomed out, your body lightly shook as your lips brushed against his. He was fully inside you, the tight and warm feeling making him wither beneath you.

Tangerine moved his hand, kissing your shoulder, “God, you feel like fuckin’ heaven.”

“Don’t stop. Please…” You huffed.

– – –

Then, it was morning.

The rising sun peaked through the small split of the curtains. As you tried to shift, your body ached throughout every muscle. A small groan left your lips, but you were pulled back by a strong arm wrapped around your waist.

It snapped you back into reality. Last night really happened… and you were okay with that.

Tangerine’s tattooed arm unconsciously tightened around you, holding you close still as he still slept behind you. You barely look over your shoulder and saw his face, his eyes still shut and his curls looked wild.

You faintly smile as you turn around to face him, and that’s what woke him up. He pulled his arms back and rubbed his eyes from the brightness of the sun coming in. You run your finger along a curl on his forehead, pushing it to the top of his head and your heart melted from the sight of those blue eyes.

“Did last night really happen?” You mumbled, but with a faint smile on your lips.

He placed his hand gently on your cheek, caressing his thumb against your jaw.

“I think the real question is…” He trailed, “Do we stay another night or go back to pretending to not know each other's existences?”

You bit your bottom lip, lightly giggling, “I think we pick secret option three and go somewhere else. Get away for a while… see where this is going. Don’t you?”

Just at that moment, Tangerine’s phone vibrated in his pants that were on the floor next to the bed. He turned over on his other side, reaching down to pull it out and reading a text Lemon just sent.

“Got a call about a job in Budapest. Are you in or overstaying your weekend?”

Tangerine smirked at himself, then felt your lips press against his neck. You placed another kiss on his shoulder, leaving a tender love bite before he turned back around to kiss you. Maybe it was the natural thrill of the chase, but you loved the not knowing.

Whatever was next, you could only hope that he kept it interesting.

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine x y/n #tangerine x you #tangerine fic

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stupidlittlespirit · 5 days

Text

Claustrophobia

Rating: NSFW, mdni Type: Longform, smut Tags: Trapped in a closet, Dubious consent, premature ejaculation, dry humping, fingering, no pronouns but female body described, slight gaslighting, Reigen being a disgusting pervert, female body described and skirt/stockings but no pronouns. Word count: 9,140 (sorry it's so long) My other works: here on tumblr and here on Ao3!

Reader and Reigen get locked in a closet during a job gone wrong, and Reigen doesn't know how to behave. (inspired loosely by @vasiktomis's fic)

Reigen isn’t in the habit of taking solo jobs he can't handle alone. Not anymore, anyway,

He's learned that, quite understandably, no one can be reasonably expected to just drop what they’re doing to serve his whim when he finds himself facing a threat bigger than the boots that he places himself in sometimes. Nowadays, he sticks to what he knows and picks the work that's least likely to result in an untimely death. Without any psychic abilities of his own, Reigen tends to go for the less spiritually-inclined call outs.

When he'd taken this job, he had assumed it to be one of those times.

The client, Kawasaki, had bemoaned a supposed ghostly presence lingering in a rundown property of his, causing damage and defacing the place, and stopping him from renovating the house for new tenants. As loath as Reigen had been to help a landlord, the price of the job had been decent enough to convince him otherwise and so he had taken it on.

Kawasaki’s description during his consultation had sounded like nothing more than squatters or trespassing teenagers looking for somewhere quiet to make out. Serizawa had agreed; broken locks, leftover beer cans and abandoned trash aren’t common signs of spirits and so Reigen had thought little of attending without any psychic backup. If he can manage without Mob or Serizawa, he will. They’re both busy enough, it wouldn’t do to drag them away from their studies or their friends for no reason. Besides, Reigen is confident enough in his own ability to handle things, for better or worse.

Still, he isn’t dense enough to wander into an abandoned den filled with potentially unfriendly squatters and disgusting creepy-crawlies all on his lonesome. Reigen can be stupid, but he’s not dumb. Instead, he had requested (see: demanded) the help of the only other person in the office he knows rarely has anywhere else to be: You.

He’s well aware that you don’t have much going on outside of working hours and you’re usually moderately willing to stretch your legs a bit when the day has been slow. A person can only stand to look at paperwork for so many hours a day, he supposes.

When you’d asked why, exactly, he needed you of all people to join him, Reigen had been blunt: “I’d rather not get stabbed over a property dispute, if that’s alright with you. Plus, I need someone to keep an eye out for roaches.”

According to his expert assessment, the work would be simple: Get in, sweet talk the people inside into moving along, and collect the fee.

Except, as is often the case, nothing Reigen ever does is simple.

When the two of you arrive, the building is empty. There isn’t a single sign of life nor death inside the entire house and he isn't really that surprised. The place is absolutely rotten. Dirty wallpaper peels from place, the once rich-looking wooden fixtures are soft and stained a gross green colour, their usual glossy surfaces dull and sickly, and the interior is so degraded that he's not sure how the landlord intends to salvage the place, regardless of damage done by potential unwelcome visitors.

Sleeping on the street would be preferable to staying here.

“So much for squatters,” he hears you mutter, the beam of your flashlight swinging around the room. It skims from tattered floorboards to broken down shelving, circuiting the room as you turn on the spot in search of the client’s woes.

“Maybe they left,” Reigen says, peering into a side room. “Makes our job easier anyway.”

“I wouldn’t hang around here, I know that much,” you sigh.

“Why?” Reigen smirks. “Not scared, are you?” He can never pass up on an opportunity to provoke you. You’re always a breeze to wind up and Reigen would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy watching your hackles rise. He’s proficient in the art of being a dick, especially when it comes to you.

You roll your eyes at his attempt. “You wish. We should check upstairs at least, just to be sure.”

Reigen agrees, though in his ever chivalrous nature, he invites you to be the first one to brave the weak looking staircase. Each step you take up the rickety stairs is cautious, ensuring you won’t fall straight through the rotted wood and accidentally impale yourself on an exposed nail, and Reigen follows your footsteps perfectly.

It’s even darker up here. The windows are shuttered, boarded up tight beyond a few ripped out panels, and there doesn’t appear to be anyone hiding in the rooms; they’re equally as dilapidated as the ones downstairs. There are remnants of life in the house, though, besides the leftover trash: discarded boxes filled with long-abandoned books and menial belongings, old furniture and forgotten blankets, but they all appear to be as old as the home.

They’re covered in grime and clearly haven’t been touched much. The squatter theory looks weak without fresh signs of habitation, but there’s always the chance people are breaking in to snoop around.

Dust particles catch in the light beams of your torches as he takes you deeper inside, glittering and wispy, passing through the air like tiny little fairies uprooted from their hiding spots. Reigen swallows a sneeze and turns away from you, covering his nose and mouth with the sleeve of his jacket.

Dimly, he supposes he should have gotten masks for you both; the last thing he wants is a health and safety insurance claim on his hands if you inhale something gross. “If you see any asbestos, keep your distance,” he warns. “I’m not paying your hospital bill.”

“Thanks,” you reply, tone so dry it’s practically parched. “What does it look like?”

“No idea,” says Reigen, shrugging. “But don’t breathe it in.”

“Asshole.” He can almost hear you roll your eyes and he bites down on a grin.

The air is much cooler upstairs, icy enough to permeate Reigen’s suit and he suppresses a shiver as you follow his lead down a long hallway.

Despite his confidence in the office that the presence of a spirit here would be unlikely, he can’t help but feel nervous. Downstairs had been gross, but upstairs feels decidedly…. Unwelcoming in comparison. Like something is waiting for you both, hidden in the darkness and waiting to strike.

He knows it’s probably his imagination. This isn’t his first rodeo and usually a spirit makes itself known the moment he pokes around a bit. You’re just paranoid, Reigen thinks to himself, get a grip.

Your voice breaks through the silent air: “Can you feel that?” You whisper, coming up close behind him.

Anxiety rolls off of you in waves and Reigen can sense how tense you are even at a distance. He really ought to be a decent boss and offer some reassurance to the least experienced member of his team. You’re not usually the one who’s dragged into spooky places like this with little to no preparation; your expertise extends to paperwork and filing cabinets, and with no Esper abilities to speak of you’re completely exposed to danger. Reigen is too, he supposes, but he’s used to charging into unfriendly dens of danger without much care for his wellbeing.

He should be considerate and give you some warm words of comfort, offer to protect you if all hell breaks loose, yet he knows you’re not the type to cling to him like a frightened fawn and he’d only insult you if he suggested anything of the sort. Instead, he decides he’ll break the tension in a way that only he knows how.

He pauses at your front and you almost walk into the back of him, too busy looking behind you to pay attention. Reigen puts a hand out to keep you steady. “What do you mean?” He asks, glancing over his shoulder at you.

“I’m not sure,” you say, flicking your flashlight around in the darkness. “The air…. It feels heavy, don’t you think?”

Reigen hums and comes to stand behind you, swapping places and standing close enough that his chest bumps your back. “Actually, now that you mention it….”

Without a word, he reaches past you and motions for you to raise the flashlight a little, and you do as you’re asked, pointing it towards an empty room just off of the corridor. The beam is too weak to fully penetrate the darkness as you point it inside however, and the light barely makes a difference.

“What is it?” You whisper, craning your head around to see if you can spot whatever has caught his attention. The light is swallowed by the black expanse and it makes it seem as though the building is ten times as big as the distance you’ve just walked.

Reigen doesn’t answer your question.

The silence is deafening.

Reigen is so close to you that he can see the hairs rise on your arms in his own torchlight and he’s quite pleased when you lean away from where you’re pointing the light, pressing back against him unconsciously in order to distance yourself from whatever might lurk in the shadows. You might not be the sort of person that needs protecting, but he can’t deny that something stirs inside himself at the thought of you seeking him out for support anyway.

Nothing moves in the dark.

No one speaks a word.

It’s the most perfect set-up Reigen could imagine.

“Boo!”

His hands grab at your sides as he shouts right down your ear, as loud as he can manage. The scream you let loose is close to inhuman and in a pure panic, you lurch away from the source, scrambling aside until your shoulder collides hard against the wall. You swing your torch out violently in a feeble attempt to protect yourself from the unseen threat and Reigen dodges the heavy lump of metal, laughing his head off at his wonderfully successful prank.

The watery light lands on his doubled over form, collapsed against the opposing wall in a fit of ugly giggles, his body shaking with the force of it. He cackles at the terrified sight of you, hands still outstretched from where he’d seized your waist. “Your face!” Reigen gasps, struggling to breathe through his fits. “Man, you’re too easy!”

It doesn’t take a genius to see that you’re very admirably restraining yourself from throwing the torch at his head. You look like you’ve had the fear of God put in you, face paling and eyes wide, clutching at the ruined walls like a cartoon cat on the ceiling. The big grin that splits Reigen’s smug face suggests he’s overjoyed that he’s gotten such a reaction from you; he always is.

Furious, you lash out with one foot to kick at his shin. “Fuck off!” you hiss, breathless with fright. “Fucking asshole!”

Still laughing, Reigen nimbly avoids your attempted assault again. He looks far too pleased with himself and as soon as you can breathe again, you flounce off down the hallway and make your way back towards the staircase, leaving him pitched against the doorframe whilst he tries to get his breath back.

The darkness clearly doesn’t seem as frightening to you now that it’s clear the biggest threat in here is your jerk of a boss and you stride back the way you came, ignoring Reigen’s half-hearted shouts for you to wait. He won’t let you get too far without him. Although the house is empty, it’s still run down and dodgy as fuck. The last thing he wants is for you to be so angry with him that you fall down the stairs or cut yourself escaping his mean spirited jokes.

“Wait a second!” Reigen shouts, still struggling to sound completely serious. He scrambles after you, following the sound of your heavy footsteps as you stomp back the way you’d come.

“It’s not funny,” you snap over your shoulder. “Get lost. You can go-!” Your sentences halts halfway through, cut off almost comically, and Reigen is mildly disappointed that you’re not throwing rabid insults his way.

“C’mon,” Reigen cajoles, pushing his luck as he rounds the corner to the landing. “Don’t be like that, I thought you could take a joke!” He’s still got a stupid grin on his face as he comes closer and he takes a breath to say something else when abruptly he realises you’re standing stock still in place.

You look even more terrified than you had moments earlier and briefly, Reigen worries he might have caused permanent trauma “What is it?” Reigen asks, suddenly sounding a lot less jovial. “I didn’t scare you that badly, did I?”

At the foot of the staircase, the floorboards squeak and a foreign voice speaks aloud into the damp air: “I thought it was funny.”

He freezes mid-step, one foot suspended in the air. The voice doesn’t belong to anyone he recognises and judging by the look on your face, it doesn’t belong to anyone you know either. A cold and unpleasant sensation slides down the back of his neck, like a fat droplet of ice water trickling along his skin. The heavy, dense atmosphere is back, even worse than it had been when you’d first come up here.

Cautiously, like he’s afraid the room might explode, Reigen edges toward where you’re standing. You don’t look at him at all, eyes fixed on whatever has spoken at the foot of the staircase, and it makes Reigen’s blood run cold again. Very slowly, he ekes his flashlight up from where it points at the floor to join yours and shines it’s weak beam towards the source of the sound. It illuminates the bottom most stair and as he raises it higher and higher, the form of an impossibly black figure reveals itself.

It’s vaguely human shaped, except the limbs are longer than they should be and they’re bent at uncomfortable angles, like it’s stuffed into the space it crouches in. The thing is big enough that it takes up the entire doorway at the foot of the stairs and it seems to almost absorb the light of the torch, watching the two of you closely with a featureless face. No, not quite totally featureless. Rather than have eyes or a nose, or any other defining characteristic, It has a big, horrible smile, made up of crooked teeth that peek out from behind non-existent lips.

Reigen hears your breathing hitch in fear and this time, his responsible boss attitude does take over. He curls a hand around your wrist and inches in front of you, sheltering your body with his. The spirit is big. Bigger than the usual ones he faces off against. With only a bag of salt in his pocket and a hopeful prayer in his heart, Reigen knows he’s limited in options on how to deal with this. There’s no Mob and no Serizawa to back him up. He’s on his own for this one and he really doesn’t want to give you the impression that he can’t handle things by himself.

Maybe he can use the only trusty weapon he has in his arsenal: His mouth. Reigen holds his free hand up in an innocent gesture. “Sorry,” he says, plastering on a fake smile. “Didn’t mean to disturb you. We were just, uh, exploring….”

The spirit makes a sound of disgust, like two rusty metal sheets rubbing together, and it begins to crawl up the stairs, inch by inch. “Exploring each other, more like. Why is it always my house you kids come to fuck in?”

Reigen chokes on his tongue, his face burning. “Hey, come on, it’s not like that!”

“Of course you are, you’re all the same.” The spirit’s mouth draws back into an impossibly wider grin. “Why can’t you just get handsy in the car like everyone else?”

“Fuck off,” you snap, though your voice is weak. “No one’s coming to this shit hole to have sex.”

The spirit’s grin turns downward into a furious scowl and Reigen barely predicts what’s about to happen in enough time to yank you away from harm. The grotesque creature launches itself upward, its long limbs allowing it the capacity to make short work of the remaining stairs, and it lunges straight for the both of you with a snarling shout of indignance at your insult of its home.

Reigen manages a shout of warning before he yanks you aside, grabbing your hand in a bruising grip, and he pulls you out of the thing’s path with all the strength he can muster. You have the good sense to let him manhandle you across the landing, abandoning your torch in favour of hanging onto him, and you stagger alongside towards the hallway again.

The creature crashes against the wall at the top of the stairs, the force of its strike knocking over the old furniture that’s been discarded there to grow mouldy and old. The wood crunches horribly on impact and Reigen is always impressed by the way spirits, for such non-corporeal beings, manage incredible ways of destroying their far more material environments with ease. Right now, however, he’d rather not go the same way as that chest of drawers. He doesn’t plan on dying in a place like this and there’s no way he’s about to let you meet a grisly end either. He’s far too fond of you for that.

The spirit has the stairs cornered, which leaves little else in the way of an escape route. Reigen has no choice but to take you deeper into the house and hope to lead the thing around in a circle to free up the stairway. Barrelling down the corridor, Reigen is running blind. He realises he must have dropped his flashlight in the chaos, too, because everything in the house is so incredibly dark that he feels like there’s a bag over his head. It’s almost impossible for him to see where he’s going, there’s no way he’ll be able to get his bearings well enough to loop the property like this.

That is, until a sliver of light from another room catches his eye. Reigen pivots on his heel at breakneck speed and heaves you sideways with him through the open doorway, ever the nimble little weasel. He slams the door shut behind you and scans the room for a hiding place, breathing hard and keeping a tight, sweaty hold of your hand.

“What do we do?!” You gasp, out of breath from both the running and the fear. “We can’t get out, what do we-!”

“In there!” Reigen points across the dim room. On the far side past a broken down bed and several piles of boxes and filthy duvets, there’s a slim little closet. It’s the only thing in here that seems to still be whole and mercifully preserved from the rot that’s infected the rest of the building. It’s the best bet either of you will have at staying hidden.

Reigen doesn’t wait for you to answer. Instead, he lugs you towards it and wrenches open the doors, tumbling inside. Reigen’s back hits the wall as he flattens himself against the interior, his body folding awkwardly in order to fit into the cramped, tight space, and he hauls you in after him. You’re all elbows and knees as you land on him, scrabbling for purchase in a panic, and your body shoves at his while you try and find your balance in the darkness.

He pushes you against the opposing side, his hands clutching your waist to stop you from wobbling and falling right back out into the open, and his legs tangle up between both of yours. By some stroke of good fortune, you have the presence of mind to snatch the doors shut after yourself. They close with a mercifully quiet click! and then it’s just the two of you, panting hard and fast into the dimness as you listen for signs of your undead pursuer.

Several somethings clatter around in the hallway, followed by the sound of breaking glass and a frustrated growl, and Reigen strains to hear if the sounds are moving any closer to the bedroom you’re sheltering in.

After a few long moments, however, nothing comes.

Reigen breathes a silent sigh of relief and then feels you shift in place. You’re virtually painted onto his front, your chest squashed against his own and your face not even half an inch away from his. It dawns on him that this is quite the intimate position to be in with a person he’s supposed to be in charge of, and he feels the cool sweat of adrenaline turn into lukewarm awkwardness.

You tilt your head a fraction to give yourself a bit of room to speak and your lips brush up against his cheek. “What were you thinking?!” you scold him in barely a whisper.

“Huh?” Reigen murmurs back, trying to ignore the sensation.

“We’re sitting ducks in here,” you breathe. “If that fucking thing finds us, we’re dead!”

He hadn’t really considered that. The closet is tiny and dark, only a tiny filtering of pale light from a broken window board across the room reaches through the thin slats sitting just above your heads. It smells like dank old oak and probably a few different cultures of microorganisms. The only thing there’s room for in here is mould and dust. Neither he nor you will be able to escape if the spirit figures out where you’re hiding.

“Just shut up,” Reigen mutters, flexing his hands on your waist. “Stay quiet until it gets bored and then we can sneak out.” It’s a weak plan, but it’s all he has right now.

A few rooms over, something crashes against a wall and you flinch against him.

Reigen can feel the warmth of your body seeping into his own through your clothes, your breasts brushing the front of his shirt, your hips locked with his own. Your arms are forced almost around one another, both of you clinging to the other’s sides. Perhaps it’s the excitement of the chase, or maybe the thrill of escaping yet another near-death situation, but Reigen’s blood feels like it’s catching alight. He’s warming up all over, perspiration beading at his temples, and he isn’t quite sure how to stop it. Were he to purse his lips, he might even accidentally kiss you.

Reigen is technically in charge of you. It’s well known in the office that all of you work side-by-side, however on the paperwork side of things, he is legally your superior. He’s supposed to uphold a certain air of respectability around his colleagues yet when it comes to you, he finds that responsibility getting more difficult by the day. You argue back and forth with him, always ready to challenge his overpowering confidence when it starts to get out of hand, and he can tell you enjoy the verbal sparring as much as he does.

There’s something unsaid between you both, something heavy that’s only been building over time, but Reigen is too afraid to drop his façade of being The Boss Of You to investigate it further in case he’s read the entire situation wrong. If you were to refuse him, to laugh in his face, he'd never live it down. He couldn't handle such a dent in his ego and he'd rather die than admit it aloud.

He does his best to hide it when he chances little looks at you and so far he’s only been caught out on his less-than-professional observations once, by Ekubo. Horrible little fiend that the ghost is, he’d caught Reigen sneaking a peek at your ass as you’d cleaned a cupboard in the staffroom, chatting away to him and none the wiser of his perverseness; you’d been on your hands and knees, half disappeared into the space under the sink, and Reigen had seized the opportunity to drink in a spectacular view of you from behind.

Your skirt had risen ever so slightly too high, revealing the top of your stockings and the thin sliver of the clips that held the fabric in place, and Reigen had lurked silently in the doorway, watching closely and committing the sight to memory.

Until, of course, Ekubo had materialised out of thin air, as he is so often wont to do, grinning lasciviously, and scared the shit out of Reigen so badly that he’d almost tumbled backwards out of the room. Despite the rude interruption, he’s never forgotten the sight.

Reigen knows it's wrong, that it's fucked up that he'd view a staff member, a friend, like that, and yet he's never had the willpower to put a stop to it. Images of you in raunchy positions just like on that day have haunted his mind on late, lonely nights whilst his hand has wandered into the waistband of his underwear of its own accord.

He’s fully aware that he shouldn’t be jerking himself off every night thinking of you stuck under the sink, unable to get away from his curious hands, but he can’t ever feel guilty enough to think of anything else.

Right now, he wishes he'd at least tried. The memories of those imagined scenarios are stirred up by your closeness and he thinks, distantly, that if he'd tried to be a good person for once and made an effort to ignore them then he might not be struggling as much as he is currently. He’s never intended for you to find out about his fantasies and getting caught short like this is probably not going to go down well. He needs to stop thinking about all of this before it gets out of hand.

The sound of floorboards groaning out in the hallway outside makes you startle and you squirm between his legs, straining to look through the slats of the door. One of your thighs rubs up into his crotch, sleek material gliding against his suit, and he’s reminded that you’re wearing another skirt today; the smoothness of your legs means you’re more than likely in stockings again and the memory rears its head. Reigen grunts softly, gritting his teeth. “Stop it,” he grinds out quietly. “Quit moving.”

Much to his distress, you don't. Rather than obey his command, you use his body to push yourself further up to peek out of the slats and Reigen is forced to tighten his hold around your middle, dragging you back down. If you won't stop, he's going to have to make you. He digs his fingers into your side, bunching them up in the fabric of your shirt and pulling it downward to still you.

“Let go of me, you idiot,” you hiss, attempting to pry off his grip and straighten up. “I can't see!”

Reigen is sure you don’t intend to do it but the motion of your movement forces your hips to rock forward into his and he bites down on his lip so hard that he thinks he's drawn blood. He attempts to move away again, only to bump his knees against the wall under you. Reigen sucks in a sharp breath, ready to snap at you again to force you to back off, until the door to the room you're in bursts open like a group of police officers exercising a warrant. It slams against the wall loudly, the whole thing vibrating with the force. Nose to nose with him, you share a look of panic.

Something lets out a rattle of breath outside.

Reigen leans his head aside to press his mouth against your ear. “Don’t fucking move,” he says, barely audible, and he does his best not to notice the way you tilt your own head to let him fit in closer. His breath is hot against your skin and if he isn’t mistaken, you might even shiver a little.

The creature outside prowls into the bedroom, grunting and growling to itself as it searches between littered furniture for the two stowaways. Its nails scrape on the floorboards, the sound getting louder and louder until it pauses, right outside the closet. There’s a chittering noise that reverberates in Reigen’s chest and just beyond the wood, barely a hands-width away from your heads, the spirit sniffs up and down the seam of the closet. It sounds like there’s something wet caught in its throat, each draw of breath a phlegm filled rattle, and it scratches its claws on the door, seeking out any living forms within.

The spirit smells foul. Its scent is somewhere between death and rancid meat, and Reigen swallows against the saliva that rises and swims in his mouth, trying not to gag. The freezing air on its dead breath ruffles the hair at the tops of your heads and washes you both with the scent.

A swaying cobra, its form moves across the light that filters into the cupboard, turning it murky and dark but not quite removing it entirely, almost as though it’s trying to peer inside despite its lack of eyes. After a few minutes of unbearably intense silence, the spirit seems to give up on sniffing you out. It lashes out at the closet doors with its talons, tearing into the surface of the wood, before turning tail and lurching out of the room to continue its search elsewhere.

The aggressive swipe it takes at the closet makes the whole thing rattle loudly, bouncing the doors inward with force, and you jolt as though you’ve been hit. Instinctively, Reigen turns his head to check that you’re not hurt and at the same time, you turn yourself into him even more, afraid of the thing lurking outside. In the tight space, with barely even enough room to breathe, the motion forces your mouths to slot together. It can hardly be called a kiss; you’re doing little more than exchanging oxygen with one another, yet it’s so close to one that Reigen’s body betrays him almost instantly.

On your breath, he can smell the sugary strawberries you’d eaten on the way over here and again his mind conjures images, unbidden, of your lips wrapped around the fruit’s soft flesh as you’d eaten them in the passenger seat of the hire car, of the smile on your face when he handed them over; a bribe from a stopover at a gas station to stop your complaints about the long drive and an entirely selfish gesture on his part, purely for the reward of your attention (and perhaps, too, for the guilty pleasure of watching you lick your fingers clean when you’d finished).

The thought reignites the heat in his body and almost instantly, all of the blood in his brain sinks to his crotch. Reigen gets hard so quickly that he almost passes out. He isn’t sure where he finds the resolve, but somehow he manages to hold back the tiny little groan that threatens to spill from his throat, instead breathing in sharply through his nose at the sensation. Reigen’s eyes flutter shut momentarily, both in pleasure and in anticipatory fear of the look on your face.

He knows you must have noticed; his suit fabric is cheap and thin, barely a barrier to hide behind, and with your own legs exposed by your skirt there’s no way you could miss it. The weak light allows him to make out that you glance down and then back up to him.

Embarrassment burns on his face.

“It’s my cell phone,” Reigen lies without hesitation, defending his pride before you can even begin to question it. “Don’t flatter yourself.” He knows better than to throw out an insult to protect his own decency, however he’s starting to panic a little more than a seasoned sleuth should be and it has nothing to do with a ghostly presence.

You clear your throat softly and nod, looking away. The smirk on your face only makes his cheeks burn more; you’ll never let this go if he doesn’t act fast and distract you. “Look, we need to make a run for it while we still have the chance,” Reigen says quietly, trying to will away his arousal as best he can. “We open the doors and sneak back to the stairs. Don’t say a word and follow my lead, got it?” He’s being stricter than he usually is, partially to conceal his humiliation and partially because he needs to put his mind to something that doesn’t involve his dick.

“Sure thing, boss,” you whisper back, and Reigen can hear the amusement in your tone. He chooses to ignore it. When you get back to the office though, he’s going to make you clean that damn sink again in penance and he won’t feel the slightest bit of guilt for watching you do it. Maybe this time, he’ll even take a picture for his private collection….

Lower down in the closet, the light is completely swallowed again by darkness and Reigen has to blindly take one hand off of your waist to slide it along the door until his fingers bump against the knob. He takes hold of it and twists, attempting to push the door outward slowly. Except, the door doesn’t move. It doesn’t even budge. Confused, Reigen twists the metal further in case he hasn’t moved it around far enough and tries again. Still, nothing happens.

“What are you waiting for?” you say, frustrated.

“It won’t open,” Reigen grunts, rattling the doorknob as hard as he dares. He can’t afford to make too much noise and draw the spirit back towards you both, but he can’t risk losing the chance to run for it, either.

“Please tell me you’re fucking kidding,” you say in a strained whisper. “Reigen, stop messing aroun-”

“I’m not!” Reigen growls, jiggling it again. “I can’t get it- it won’t open!” He applies a little more pressure, wrenching it back and forth a few more times until, after one particularly frustrated yank, there’s a sickening crunch of dead wood and more light pools into the closet via a new, small hole.

He’s ripped the entire thing off.

“Oh,” says Reigen quietly.

You stare at him in utter disbelief.

“This place is falling apart,” Reigen says, immediately protective of his screw up. “It isn’t my fault-”

“You pulled the fucking handle off, Reigen!” Your voice rises momentarily before you wrestle it back under control at Reigen’s rather brusque shhh! “You pulled it off,” you repeat, far quieter this time but still distressed. “We’ll be trapped in here for hours, you idiot!”

You’re right. The only two people who know you’re both here are Mob and Serizawa. Mob is busy with friends and it’ll take Serizawa a little while to catch on that something is wrong. The job is about forty minutes from the office; allowing for travel and the time it takes to complete the work, Reigen can safely estimate that it’ll be a while before your absence is questioned. That means he’s going to be stuck in this stupid little closet, half hard and totally distracted, with you glued to him for a long time.

He tips his head back against the closet wall and sighs, closing his eyes as he tries to wrack his brain for potential options.

Reigen wonders if he should just try throwing himself at the door and facing off with a hungry spirit. It might be more preferable than his current situation, at least.

It’s uncharacteristic of you to be so mute when Reigen fucks up, and after a few minutes of miserable silence he opens his eyes again to check that you’re still there. You are, of course, but there’s a look on your face that Reigen rarely sees you wear. Despite the shitty light, he can just about make out that your eyes are becoming wide, gaze darting around the closet, and he can feel your chest beginning to rise and fall far quicker than normal, just like it had when he’d made you jump. Your breath is coming in fast, short pants and your hands grasp at the front of his shirt.

You’re starting to panic.

Abruptly, Reigen remembers you confiding in him a while ago whilst the two of you had watched some terrible horror movie together, lounging around in his apartment one evening, about how much you disliked the thought of being trapped.

The protagonist had been buried alive and you’d barely been able to finish the rest of the movie, too caught up in the anxiety of the scenario to remember how unlikely it would be for a similar fate to befall you. You’d clutched his arm so tightly that he’d found a small bruise the next morning in the shower and he can still recall how excited he had felt to have a souvenir of your presence….

Focus! Reigen warns himself, straightening up as best he can to force himself back into the moment. Now isn’t the time!

He squeezes your waist gently, a reassuring reminder that he’s right here with you. “Calm down, I’ve got it all under control,” Reigen lies through his teeth, slipping back into his false bluster the moment he knows he’s fucking things up. “We can wait until the spirit goes back to sleep and then-”

“Spirits don’t sleep!” You snap. “I’m not waiting-”

“They totally do!” Reigen replies, annoyed that you’re questioning his ever profound knowledge. “Look, I’m the professional here, you don’t even come out on jobs so why don’t you just-”

“You got us stuck in here in the first place, mister professional,” you say angrily. Both of your voices are stage whispers now, caught between concealing your presence and yelling at one another. “There has to be a safety release in here!” Your body twists viciously as you squirm around, hands flitting across the inside of the closet in an urgent attempt to free yourself from its confines.

Somehow, despite the tiny space, the ferocity of your search manages to turn you around until your back is flat against his chest instead, your body ramming his.

Reigen is torn between biting his own tongue off in frustration at the feeling of you writhing against him and yanking you closer to seek more contact. He drops the doorknob onto his foot, praying the sound will be muffled enough that it won’t draw attention and freeing up his other hand to grab a hold of you before anything more mortifying occurs. He needs to distract you, for his sake and yours.

“Hey, stop!” He attempts to prevent you from going any further, wrapping his arms around your waist and anchoring you down. “Easy, just stay still-”

“Get off of me!” you snap, tilting your head toward him and wriggling against his grip even harder. With every move, your ass bounces off of his lap and Reigen prays to whatever god is listening that he doesn’t make any more of a fool of himself than he already has today. The sensation is sinful, like he’s fucking you with your clothes on, and Reigen isn’t sure that he can hold out like this.

“Wait,” you pant, halting your search in the darkness to reach behind yourself for his slacks’ pocket. “Your cell phone, you said you brought it in, right?” You slide your hand down behind your back, right past his midriff, and grope around for the lifeline, palming at whatever you can reach. “Call Serizawa, he can exorcise that thing and let us out!”

Those gods must be laughing at him.

Abruptly, Reigen lurches his body aside, feebly trying to avoid your intrusive touch and acutely aware that his lie is about to be found out. “Stop,” he begs you softly, starting to panic himself. “Please. You gotta stop touching me or I’m gonna-” He drops his hands from your waist to grab yours where they rest, halfway into his pockets and you wrestle with him for a second to try and move him away. Reigen swears under his breath.

The proximity and your wriggling make a horrible, delicious concoction and his body reacts accordingly: Reigen is hard again. He can’t fight it anymore, not with your hands so close to his cock and your breath so hot against his cheek.

What happens next is a complete accident, an automatic move he makes before his brain catches up: Hands clamping down around your waist, Reigen purposefully rolls his hips into the soft curve of your ass, hard enough to gain the exact, exquisite friction that he’s been denying himself the entire time he’s been in here with you. Everything occurs so fast that he just about has time to clamp his hand over his mouth to stifle a pathetic little sob as he cums, hard, in his pants. He squeezes his eyes shut, stars blooming behind his eyelids, and pants desperately as he tries to catch his breath.

At his front, you’ve gone very still.

For a few minutes, no one speaks. Only Reigen’s ragged breathing and the sounds of birds somewhere way off beyond the confines of the house fill the silence, until you finally find your voice again: "Seriously?”

Reigen isn’t a stranger to making an idiot of himself, but this is definitely a new low for him. He knows how much trouble he’s going to be in when the two of you get out of here and he can practically smell the oncoming harassment lawsuit wafting through the stale air. Although, maybe that’s just the scent of his sweaty embarrassment….

Ever keen to save face though, Reigen does his best to play stupid. “What?” He asks, voice frayed at the edges.

“Did you just blow your fucking load-”

“Absolutely not-!”

“My ass is wet, Reigen,” you hiss. “I can feel it through my skirt!”

The thin material around the front of his slacks is soaked through, he knows you can. “No, it isn’t,” he scoffs, denying it without hesitation. “You’re imagining things.”

“Liar.” You tilt your hips back minutely, just enough to rub up on his spent erection, and Reigen breathes in sharply. “I didn’t realise you were so into ghouls and near death experiences,” you whisper, sounding amused in spite of your annoyance.

“It’s not a ghoul,” Reigen corrects automatically, mouth moving independently of his brain. He swallows thickly and shifts in place. “And even if something like that did happen,” he says, trying to sound dismissive. “It’s because you won’t stop moving, it’s only natural.”

“That’s… A pathetic excuse,” you admonish, head tipped back toward him. “Even for you.” Your tongue darts out to wet your lower lip, however in such close quarters, the motion effectively wets the corner of his, too. Hot spit brushes against his lip and Reigen’s mouth parts almost of its own accord, an automatic reaction to the stimulus. The angle is awkward but your mouths slide together, the slickness of the skin unbelievably arousing.

“S’not an excuse, it’s your fault.” Reigen protests weakly, lips catching against your own as you nudge your nose along his cheek. He knows he should really apologise for his indecency, that he should try to find a way out of this situation as quickly as possible, and yet…. That heavy, unspoken feeling that so often follows him around when he’s with you is filling up the interior of the closet like thick cotton wool. Your words are sharp and stinging, but you don’t seem to be as disgusted as you sound. It makes his head swim and his legs feel weak, and in some kind of unfortunate miracle, Reigen can feel his cock stir with interest again already.

“You’re really blaming it all on me? You’re the one who dragged me along to this and you’re the one who got us locked in this closet.” You laugh quietly under your breath at him, disbelieving and more than a little entertained. “God, you’re insufferable.” You press backward again and Reigen chokes back a whimper.

“I told you to stop-”

“Stop what, boss?” you ask, feigning innocence, and fuck does he hate how much you’re able to get under his skin. No one else toys with him like this, teases him. No one else dares to question his leadership or to wind him up until he explodes. No one else except you.

Reigen grits his teeth so hard he swears he feels them creak under the pressure. “If you don’t quit moving around like that, I’m not going to be held responsible for what I do next,” he grinds out. He knows you’re provoking him on purpose and he shouldn’t fall for it so easily, but he’s powerless like this and if there’s one thing Reigen hates; it’s feeling fucking powerless.

“Oh? And what are you going to do about it?” You ask, words heavy with ridicule. “Cum in your pants again?”

Reigen has had enough of your attitude.

“Fine,” he snaps. “You want to play dirty? Let’s see how you like it.” He’s been aching to touch you for so long; if this is the only chance he’s going to get, he’ll take it. Reigen isn’t one to watch opportunities pass him by. He wants to grope and grab and feel his way all over you, and he just doesn’t have the willpower in himself to resist it anymore, especially when you’re winding him up like this.

Reigen’s hands drop from where they hold your waist, inching to your hips and down to grope at your ass. It’s just like every wet dream he’s ever had about you; you’re stuck with nowhere to go, at his mercy as he touches and grabs whatever he can reach.

You breathe in sharply at his touch and your back arches, silently seeking his attention. “That’s so inappropriate,” you whisper, and he can hear the smirk in your voice. You don’t mean a word you’re saying. “I should report you.”

“Oh yeah? So do it,” he challenges, pawing at the curve of your backside greedily. “I’m sure they’d love to hear all about how you started it.” It feels like a dam has broken inside him, a flood that he’s held at bay for so long that it’s too overpowering to put a stop to now that it’s begun to overflow, and without your outright refusal, Reigen feels justified in his act. His hips rock forward again and he shudders, his own arousal not forgotten.

At his front, you snicker to yourself at his neediness to chase the feeling and he feels one of your arms snake upward to loop around his neck, your hand clutching at the back of his hair. The action prickles goosebumps along his skin.

“Fuck,” Reigen gasps as he moves, words tumbling out in soft pants. “You couldn’t just stay still, could you? Moving your ass like that, in your stupid fucking skirt and your stupid fucking stockings.” As his hips roll into you, his fingers travel to your skirt to find the tops of said lingerie and he runs his touch up the nearest strap of your garter belt.

You make a soft sound of surprise. “Stockings? How do you know I wear stock-”

Reigen pings the elastic, cutting off your words and making you gasp at the sensation, your fingers tugging at the strands of his hair. Reigen smirks, pleased to finally get the upper hand even if only for a moment. “I’ve seen them before, in the office- drives me fuckin’ crazy, ” he pants into your parted mouth. “Every time you bend over, your skirt is too short.”

“It is? I had no idea….” You pout, lower lip touching his. The words are faker than Reigen’s confidence and it makes him grin.

“I knew it,” he says, ego emboldened. “Tease.”

“Pervert,” you fire back with a smirk, legs opening a little wider as his curious hand trails up from the band of the lingerie toward your inner thigh.

“D’you wear them every day?”

“Only when I know we’ll be alone together,” you confess.

Something about your admission turns Reigen on even more. The thought that you’re only wearing them for him, for his attention, is mind blowing. He can imagine you slipping them on in the morning, thinking of him as you study yourself in the mirror before you leave for work. Reigen squeezes your ass again and uses the leverage to his advantage as he continues to work himself against you, head filled with the intimate images.

His fingers slip up your leg until they brush against the crotch of your underwear, the curve of your pussy hidden underneath. Much to his pleasant surprise, he notices that he’s not alone in his needy desire. He can feel that you’re similarly affected by the closeness, enough wetness seeping through the lacey fabric that he suspects you might have been aroused for just as long as he has. “Look at that,” Reigen teases softly, a smug grin spreading on his face. “Acting so high and mighty when you’re just as desperate for it.” He can’t deny the swell of narcissistic pride that rises in his chest; he’s making you wet. You. The object of his obsession, the person he’s only ever dreamt of having like this. It’s his touch that has you keening and sighing, even if you won’t admit it.

You scoff, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Am not-!” Your protests are smothered in favour of a hushed groan as Reigen’s thick finger nudges past your underwear and slides easily up into your cunt, your wetness offering no resistance at all.

“You were saying?” Reigen smirks, slowly inching his finger in and out, bit by bit. You’re so warm and tight around him, hips grinding down, back and forth in time with his motions. Every movement has your ass rubbing on him and Reigen lets out a shaky sigh as he presses up to meet you.

His dick strains against the fabric and silently, he wishes he had the room to free himself and fuck you silly. Now that he doesn’t have to pretend to be anything but the perverted mess that he is, Reigen ruts against your ass like a dog in heat. The enclosed space feels stifling with both of your bodies heating it up, sweat pooling at the back of his collar as he works himself up all over again. He knows he'll look a mess by the time you both manage to escape this place.

You’ve begun to make pretty little sounds against his mouth, hushed moans mixing with his desperate pants as he works his finger inside you and it’s so obscene that Reigen almost finishes on the spot. You’re both making too much noise and at this rate, you’re at risk of getting killed if the spirit returns to find you both doing exactly what it had accused you of breaking in for. Reigen knows he needs to quieten down and find a way to shut you up, too. In the fraction of free space between you, he nuzzles his mouth to yours. Although what you’re engaged in is amorous enough, the gesture is so intimate in comparison that it makes his heart flutter. “Can I kiss you?” Reigen asks, surprisingly timid considering how vigorously he’s fucking your ass.

Debauched as you are, you roll your eyes. “Finally,” you murmur. “He asks.” You sound almost relieved by his request, as though you’ve been hoping he might offer such a thing, and Reigen grins to himself.

When he kisses you, it’s sloppy; messy, unskilled and full of spit. He licks his way into your mouth enthusiastically and sighs at the touch, a trembling breath that whistles through his nose and dampens the skin of your cheek. You grunt at the force but you allow him to continue, coaxing his tongue with your own in an attempt to slow him down. Reigen doesn’t listen. He’s too confident in his own ability to take advice from you and far too excited to calm himself down anymore.

Between your legs, he presses a second finger into you, relishing in your gasp of pleasure. You’re so wet that his palm is quickly becoming slick with your arousal as he pumps his fingers and Reigen relinquishes your mouth with a lewd smack. “Fuck, you’re really into this aren’t you?” He says, bumping noses with you. “So wet and-!” Reigen’s words end in a choked off moan as you let go of his hair and drop your hand to reach behind you, cupping his cock mid-thrust.

You grasp him firmly through his damp slacks and let him grind into your grip. “You’ve got a big mouth, Reigen,” you pant, teasing. “Someone ought to teach you how to use it.”

Your hand is all he needs. Reigen is too greedy to stop himself when he knows his end is near and even if he wanted to, he’s helpless to stop it. He ought to at least try and hold on, to make up for his earlier premature finale and prove that he’s good at this kind of thing so you’ll think he’s somewhat of a decent fuck and maybe even ask for it again, but he just can’t.

A tension builds in his lower stomach, red hot and carnal, and then he’s cumming all over again, spilling into his already-filthy underwear. Reigen shudders violently, seizing you in another clumsy kiss. He almost bangs heads with you as he attempts to cover the pathetic little moans that bubble up out of him by smothering them into your mouth. Reigen’s knees feel weak again and he slumps against the closet wall behind him, breathing hard and totally spent.

You tip back the short distance with him and laugh . “So soon? I was just starting to enjoy myself….”

The back of Reigen’s neck heats up and he curls his fingers. “Sounded like you were enjoying yourself plenty,” he snipes, out of breath but still able to find a sharp-tongued reply.

You choke on a moan and wiggle your ass to encourage him. “I could stand to enjoy myself a little bit more,” you say, cheeky.

Reigen grins. He might be selfish when it comes to his own pleasure, but he won’t leave you high and dry (or wet, as the case may be). “Relax,” he whispers against your ear, cocky now that he can have you at his mercy instead. “We’ve got plenty of time, you said so yourself, right?...”

•••••

In the end, it takes Serizawa three hours to come to your rescue. He exorcises the spirit and frees you both in under five minutes, and when you finally return back to the office, Reigen still has you clean under the sink before he lets you go home for the day.

reader during this fic like

#reigen arataka x reader #MP100 #Reigen x reader #self insert #reader fic #Reigen Arataka/reader #mob psycho 100 #mob psycho reigen #reigen arataka #reigen is gross #reader insert #interaction banners by cafekitsune #smut #reigen arataka x you #reigen arataka x y/n #i hope this is okay bc i hate it #they don't get it reigen im kostrafobic!!!!

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obsidiancreates · 1 year

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OBSESSING over the concept of the DHMIS guys having been real people (I mean not real people as in Humans but real people as in Still Puppets But Living Actually Normal Lives) before they got like, suddenly snatched by some Being into their little world, and their families have been searching for them for years. And one day they manage to free them! All of a sudden Red Guy and Duck and Yellow Guy have names and personal histories and time is passing in a linear fashion and they don't know how to handle it.

They don't remember any of it. These people are strangers to them. This world is a strange one.

Red Guy has a brother and sister who now have to take care of him, because he can't seem to adapt back to his old life. He used to have a real job and his own apartment and a very average life, and now he gets anxious when he's home too long, but also when he's out too long, and he gets anxious when the day passes without someone singing something but he gets anxious when the singing goes on too long. I also think it'd be fun if he's a more vibrant shade of red than he used to be. His siblings are younger and they tell him about who he used to be and he can't connect with any of it.

Yellow Guy lives with his mom and older brother. His older brother is older by quite a few years, old enough to kind of stand in as a dad since their dad is gone (it's not Roy, his mother never knew any Roys). He used to be a bright kid, maybe not the smartest ever, but he wasn't... like this. They keep having to intervene because he has no concept of Permanent Consequence anymore. He doesn't seem to understand Injury anymore. "But it'll go away," he says when his mother takes a knife away from him after he was running around with it. "Everything goes away. ... Mummy, where are my friends?"

Duck had a partner, apparently, and a niece. His sibling doesn't visit often, but his niece does. She says it makes her parent too upset to see him when he doesn't remember them. He says they need to get over it, who can remember things that happened before today anyway? But suddenly he can, and he starts having a hard time with it. "It's too much remembering!" he squawks. "How am I meant to keep track of it all if every day I know what happened before I went to sleep?!"

And all three keep asking about each other.

"Where're the other two?" Red Guy (he never remembers his name, and usually doesn't respond to it, and the same can be said of Duck and Yellow Guy) asks one say. "The smallest one usually sits somewhere around there, and uh, the other one, right about there. Where've they gone?"

"I miss my friends," Yellow Guy whines one day. "He told me about the military, and-and I miss that. And he's supposed to sit right there, and-and the tallest one is supposed to sit there! Did they leave me alone?"

"At least the other two weren't so dull," Duck grunts one day while doing a crossword (well, trying to, and struggling with such easy hints that it makes his partner feel sick). "Even when they tried to be. What? No, I don't know any specific stories. What a strange thing to ask someone."

The families do decide to chance a supervised meeting of the three a few months after getting them back.

The shift is strange. Red Guy is less anxious, but also more irritable. Yellow Guy is happier, but more afraid. Duck is content but more demanding. And they all sit there, acting so comfortable and yet so... strange. Like they're just... waiting. Biding time for something. The whole room feels still, stifled, and their families find themselves feeling the anxiety and confusion and irritation that the three usual display.

When all three are together there's just this.... uncanniness, to the air. The colors are brighter, in a way that hurts the eyes. The silence is thicker, and the sounds that cut through are sharper. Everything feels poised to collapse, a choking and stifling feeling that makes their families dizzy. And they sit in it and seem more comfortable than they've been since their rescue, if not for the way they keep checking around the room in almost grim expectation.

But nothing comes. So their families finally say it's time to go again.

"But we're not supposed to split up," Yellow Guy pleads.

"Stuff usually goes a bit off when we do that," Red Guy says flatly, but there's an undercurrent of stress to it.

"We'll be perfectly fine right here, thank you," Duck says stiffly. "We don't even know you freaks."

But at the same time they let themselves be dragged off like they have no other choice, no ability to fight back, until they're all back at their own homes with promises that they'll see the others again sometime.

One day the phone rings in Duck's house and he goes still. He walks towards it slowly, and picks it up with shaky hands. It's Red Guy, his partner (if they're really his partner anymore, they still love him and want him to get better but it's clear the person they were in a relationship with may never return) deduces from the muffled voice. It's shaky, and Duck's reply is shaky too.

"Is this real?" they hear Red Guy's voice say through the phone.

"I don't know," Duck says back. "It always feels like it is."

Maybe getting them out of there wasn't enough. Maybe their missing family brought some of that strange place back with them. Maybe they left something behind.

And no matter what kind of day it is, if it's a mild day with few episodes or a day full of confusion and panic, there's one very strong constant. When something happen that spikes their fear, when something makes them frightened or just simply uneasy, there's one form of comfort they always refuse.

Don't hug them. They're scared.

#dhims #don't hug me i'm scared #dhmis red guy #dhmis yellow guy #dhmis duck #dhmis tv series

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hayateart · 7 months

Text

Now I have a Mermaid Moshang Au going around in my head.

So, let's say, Airplane still wrote a book, but it was about mermaids, and the main protagonist, Luo Binghe was half merman, half human. With the exception that mermaids are the obvious good guys, so the sects and cultivarors are the mermaids, and the demons are humans, with demon lords being researchers.

Rest is under the cut, because what I wrote could be a fic on its own.

Airplane dies and becomes a merman Qinghua. He saves young teenage Mobei Jun, Little Mermaid style, and falls in love instantly. However, he knows they cannot be around each other, so he leaves Mobei safe on shore.

Years later, Mobei becomes a scientist researching oceanic life, all in search for a merman he is not sure is even real. Maybe he has only dreamt about him.

Since he is so accomplished and clearly inclined to believe in the existence of aquatic mythological creatures, he gets a job in secret research facility where they already research real life mermaid.

And this is where my angst love popped in.

Mermaids cannot speak human language. They communicate in chirps and screeches like dolphins. Their teeth are sharp, their eyes alien. They are treated at best as objects, at worst as potential threat that needs to be researched, studied, cut open to see how it works and how best to kill it.

Mobei cannot let others know he has sympathy for these creatures or else he would be banned from research. He finds a kindred spirit in one of the research leads, Shen Qinqiu, who appears to be the most ruthless person he ever met but is surprisingly gentle with the creatures they handle, and proposes that maybe, just maybe they are not malicious at all. No more than people, at least.

[I needed Cucumber to be human for this one, for better BingQiu purposed. In the original novel that Airplane wrote, Shen Qingqiu was the most heartless of the scientists, doing research on a captured, teenage protagonist. His abuse caused the young merman's ancient powers to awaken. He learned how to control water Aquaman-style, how to speak the human language and thanks to his ancient magic - his father was half water-dragon - how to change shape to appear human. But that is all irrelevant, because Shen Yuan does not want to capture and operate on Binghe at all.]

However, as it happens, the plot must make its appearance.

Shang Qinghua was careful. Was very, very careful, He never had OOC function to unlock because he has always been Shang Qinhua. So he thought, he can avoid original Shang Qinghua's fate which was being captured by humans, implanted with a tracking, which led the humans to his colony, and to Binghe. He as so careful! But the system tricked him, and Qinghua gets captured anyway.

He is panicking. This is the worst! He will be experimented on, forced to out his kin, or, if he is lucky enough, just killed. What sort of world he wrote?! What sort of fate he created for himself!

He deserves it, of course. He wrote mermaids to be peaceful, hunted, tortured and killed. Of course, he deserves it for condemning an entire race. At least, he gets to see his favourite creation one last time. Because, Mobei Jun is here.

In the original story, Mobei blamed mermaids for the sinking of the ship, from which Qinghua saved him in this storyline. He did not become a researcher but a whale hunter with a penchant for mermaids. Only meeting Luo Binghe changed him, and he became the fiercest fighter for mermaid cause afterwards.

Qinghua is sure Mobei is there for revenge. Mobei recognizes Qinghua but he needs to keep up appearances. However, Shen Qingqiu recognizes the character of Shang Qinghua as well. He knows how the story goes. Qinghua is 'researched' and then let go with a tracked. He cannot let that happen but the other scientist would be suspicious if he was kind to a merman. Instead he proposed to kill him, and research the body - in his mind, it would be a mercy killing, after all.

Mobei keeps his cool, but underneath, he is boiling with rage. On one hand, he sees the kindness in Shen QingQiu's decision. He sees the mermaids in their tanks every day. How sick they are, how empty and unhappy. It would be a mercy killing. On the other, that us the marman that saved him all these years ago. In a small tank, terrified and crying, and shaking, and begging them with his eyes only to please, please, don't hurt him. Just let him go, please.

Mobei suggests waiting with the decision to the next day. Clearly, they caught only a runt, a shrimp. it is weak and won't do much for research but maybe it is more valuable alive. They should consider their options. In reality, he plans to free Qinghua over night, when nobody is watching.

He is not the only one with the same idea. Cucumber gets to Qinghua first. Under the assumption that mermaid cannot understand human language - they could not in the book - he breaks Qinghua out cursing all the while - at stupid plots, at stupid authors and at pointless characters who turn out to be so much bother!

Except, Qinghua understands him. Of course he does! He is the author. He gets Cucumber's attentions, drawing characters with water on his coat. Cucumber at first thinks nothing of it, until he notices the pattern. It is the title of the novel!

Cucumber immediately understands that Qinghua is a transmigrator, just like himself! He gets him paper and pen and they communicate.

And then Mobei Jun steps in. Qinghua and Qingqiu are caught red handed. Qinghua is panicked at his sight. In a desperate attempt to save himself, he grabs the pen and Cucumber, and holds him as a hostage, pressing the pointy end of the pen to the other's neck.

It would be terrifying if it weren't so sad. Qinghua cannot hold himself up out of the water very well. He is shaking from fear and his hold is lose - if Qingqiu wanted to break out, he could with no problem. It is clear that Qingqiu is shielding the merman.

There isn't much that Mobei can do except lift his hands in a peaceful manner and promise:

"I want to help. Please, let me."

TBC? Maybe?

#moshang #mobei jun #shang qinghua #svsss #mxtx #fanfic idea #luo binghe #shen qingqiu #bingqiu #cumplane #mermaid #au

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morallyinept · 14 days

Text

A full transcribe of JAVIER PEÑA'S dialogue/lines from the TV show NARCOS.

S2/E6 - LOS PEPES

Includes full dialogue, and dialogue from any deleted/additional scenes available.

I've created this as a point of reference when writing for Pedro's characters, and I hope you find it useful. Even if you just want to read the dialogue. 🖤

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO CHARACTERS DIALOGUE

☝🏻Dialogue has been fully transcribed by myself using reference to original scripts (if available), audio subtitles and using my own two ears. Therefore, mistakes can be made, however I have tried to be as fully accurate as I can. If you spot an obvious mistake, please kindly let me know. Where audio is not clear, I have marked with *inaudible* Scenes are separated for ease of reference.

FULL SCRIPT DIALOGUE:

Well, are you surprised? Escobar’s got a lot of enemies.

Are you working for Los Pepe’s, Agent Murphy?

Then I guess we’re good.

__________________

(In Spanish) CNP’s been busy with wire taps. They picked up chatter from Jairo’s mom here… and here. Search Bloc. won't be able to move until they get corroboration he’s in the area. Which could take days. Even longer for them to find the house. I think… Jairo is planning a homecoming. Maybe even today.

__________________

We’re too late. Says they already got him.

So?

Maybe he got followed. Or the dumb fuck shot his mouth off and somebody else got lucky.

Yeah. If it worries you, look into it.

__________________

Centra Spike give us anything good for Christmas?

Yeah, sure, whatever.

(In Spanish) I got something new. Blackie.

(In Spanish) He’s got a girlfriend. She’s pregnant, keeps calling. They're vetting it now. It’ll take a while. Blackie’s going to show.

__________________

Hey.

What’s going on?

Yeah. Right. Goddamn Christmas miracle.

__________________

What’s going on?

__________________

(In Spanish) Okay, tough guys. Bravo! Bravo! Bravo, yes we know it. We all want Escobar. But let us do the fucking job. What? You want to kill each other at a checkpoint? Lower your weapon. Lower it. Lower it.

Okay. These dreamers think they’re helping. Are you okay? Yeah? Everything okay?

Okay. Let’s go home alive. Okay?

Let them pass.

Trying to avoid a bloodbath, brother.

__________________

He’s not a friend, he’s a… he’s a man with a shared interest.

Don’t worry. It’s not gonna blow back on you.

I can handle it.

They’re gonna do what they’re gonna do, with or without me, right? At least this way… I’m on the inside and I can control it. Make sure it doesn’t go too far.

Who are the good guys, Steve? That’s us?

__________________

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO CHARACTERS DIALOGUE

#pedro pascal #javier peña #javier pena #pedro pascal characters #javier pena narcos #javier pena dialogue #pedro pascal character dialogue

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androgynousblackbox · 1 month

Text

Welcome to Hazbin Vale. 12 [Radioapple, Appleradio]

"Alie! Alie, I missed you!"

"Charlie. I missed you too, dear. Have you actually grown taller since the last time I saw you? In no time you are going to be even taller than your dad. Although that is not a hard goal already."

"Daddy said we weren't going to see you again!"

"I said he wasn't going to visit us again at home, sweetie, and he hasn't. I never said you couldn't see him around town. Officer Husk. Can I ask you to keep watch on Charlie on the break room, please? I need to speak with Alastor alone for a moment."

"Eh, do I look like a babysitter? I don't really know anything about children…"

"No, but I do. Come on, kiddo. Let's see if there is anything strong somewhere on this place. No way I am handling this sober."

"It's okay, Charlie, dear. Your dad will be right here for anything you need. We are not going anywhere. Go."

"Thank you, eh…"

"Anthony, short stuff. Nice to meet ya. I told you in the car, but maybe the speed made it difficult to hear."

"I still don't know how we made it up to here with what is happening outside. Are you sure?"

"It's alright, don't worry. I practically raised my sister so I know what I am doing."

"Ah, one thing. If Niffty offers her a cupcake, don't let her take it. You two can have it if you want."

"I am not planning to eat anything that woman offers me."

"Come on, grumpypants."

"Lucifer…"

"We are not having this conversation on air. Take a break and turn it off. And cut that corny music already."

"I can't. Take a break I mean."

"Why not."

"It's difficult to explain."

"Oh, well, then that is all espectacular by me! I will let you get back to your job, which is clearly more important than explain to me why you had the fucking police search for me and my daughter at my home after weeks of radio silence! Don't let me distract you any longer from your one true passion!

You are unbelievable, you know that? First it was that cryptic as fuck letter you left as a break up and now this! Who even breaks up with people through letters!?"

"Lucifer, wait. I can show you. That will be easier."

"Don't fucking touch me. I am still mad at you."

"I won't. Just come with me.

This is the room where all the energy of all the building come from. You can turn it all off by pressing that button there.

I want you to press it, but when you do, you have to press it again almost as quickly. Don't let it be for more than a couple of seconds."

"Seriously? This is easier than just tell me why you are being an ass right now?"

"Yes. But you have to promise me that you will press it again immediately. Then at least some of this will make sense."

"You know what? Sure, whatever, I will play. Hey, radio listeners, if you can hear me, blame your main guy because your show is about to have a sudden interruption. That button you said? This is so stu…"

"ALASTOR! Oh thank god you woke up! You scared me to death! The hell was that?"

"How long was I out?"

"I-I don't know, a few seconds? I turned it on again like you said, but jeez, that was creepy. Your eyes turned white and just fell face first to the ground like nothing! What happened? Did you rehearsed that?"

"Rehearse… falling to the floor face first?"

"I don't know what you do when I am not watching! That really scared me. You looked dead for a moment there. As in actually dead. I am pretty sure you weren't breathing."

"So that is why you had to put my head on your lap?"

"Well, you can get off it now and tell me what the fuck was that."

"I think I like it here. The view is nice."

"I am standing up. Fuck you."

"Ouch. Is that any way to treat a man coming back from the dead?"

"If he is going to refuse to just say something useful then yes. What part of I don't have a clue of what happened is not getting to you? That didn't explain anything to me."

"That… is what happens if I cut the broadcast now. I didn't just looked dead, I actually died. The broadcast has to keep going until all the energy rans out. Me and the radio tower are connected now. In a way, that button that you just pressed was part of my heart.

Lucifer?"

"I… wow. That is some good bullshit if I ever heard it. You sound so convinced of it too. Are you sure your true calling wasn't acting? That is some Oscar worthy effort right there."

"You said I wasn't breathing. You saw exactly what cutting the energy entails. We can get back to the main studio and turn off the main mic if you want to see it again."

"You are not bullshitting me?"

"No. I am actually trying to be honest here.

You are upset."

"No shit, Sherlock. Wonder who could be responsible of that."

"I am sorry."

"What was that? I didn't hear you."

"I said that I am sorry.

I thought that I was doing something that would make things easier for the both of us in the long run. I was wrong. I am sorry.

I missed you. You and your tiny hands that fit so well with mine."

"Oh shut up. You realize that means nothing, don't you?

Do you have any idea how much it hurt when I tried to call here, because it was the only place I knew I could reach you, and realize the line was gone? You didn't just pushed me out. You kicked me out the entire way to the door and… what? I am supposed to just forget that because you have some bullshit curse now to keep broadcasting or you die?

If you have told me that you were bored, met someone else or I did anything to hurt you that would be one thing. I could live with that. But you gave me nothing. And then you kept giving me nothing for weeks.

What the fuck was I suppose to think, Alastor?"

"I thought… it would be easier than to tell you the truth."

"Was it then? Is this any easier for you?"

"No."

"Exactly.

So why don't you start talking now? Since the whole town now has to know about us, might as well go the whole way in.

I am not forgiving you. I just want to know what was so important that you couldn't just tell me."

"About that… we have now a lot less listeners than you think."

"What do you mean?"

"Mmm. It's a long story. That I plan to tell you. How about you sit down?

Well.

Before I begin, you have to promise me that you will try to listen before jumping to conclusions."

"Literally the least comforting set of words ever created. Congratulations.

Fine. There will be an attempt. I don't promise more than that."

"An attempt is all I ask. Thank you.

It's actually more difficult than I thought. I am so used to ambiguity when it comes to this topic. I am not used to being direct on air.

First time for everything, I guess.

Well, let me see.

I made a deal with a eldrich being of another dimension to give me power and extradimensional immortality in exchange for souls. They want entertainment and as long I get to provide them with new food they will keep me alive through radio waves, which they also use to transmit the screams of the dammned that happen to be on my vecinity. Many people knew about it too and either helped me out to cover it up or participated gleefully so they could have their own fun. This tower is the only safe point left in the entire town and while we are here right now, that same being is devouring the rest of the town right as we speak.

So now we are all stuck here until the energy runs out and then we will all have a immediate end. Once the tower is finished, we will too. That reaction that you just saw will happen to all of us as well, so at the very least it will be quick and my consciousness will be taken out to another Alastor in order to keep the cycle alive and feed it once again.

Also I killed a lot of people. Happily. Volunteraly. Sometimes just on a whim or because they annoyed me. For fun.

But I could never hurt you or Charlie, you don't have to worry about that.

I tried to stab you once, but I literally could not to do it. That never happened to me before so it did freaked me out for a bit. Which prompted that letter that I do truly regret writing.

Huh. Is that it? Somehow I thought there was more to that story. Anyway, that would be all, essentially.

My goodness, it kinda feels good being honest for a change. Is this what you normally feel? I can see the appeal now.

Do you have any particular question, darling?

Darling?"

"I… I am sorry, I think I blacked out for a second there.

Let me just process all of this.

If this a joke, Alastor, I swear to fucking god…"

"It is not."

"I will kill you myself if it is."

"That would be ironic. But no. I am the only killer here, honey. Left alive at least."

"Can you… please shut the fuck up. I-I mean it, I really need to think. Go watch Charlie or something."

"Sure…

Do you see why I didn't want to tell you?"

"Please get the fuck out of my sight now."

"Fair enough. If you need me…"

"So I tell the guy, I tell him, just because you have a PHD does not mean that you have a big D! And the whole class just went fucking nuts."

"You are really proud of that one, kid, don't you?"

"Of course I am! That was the first time that any mention of that guy's D brought anyone some kind of joy."

"What D?"

"Defibralator, Charlie dear. It's a thing that only adult humans have and good little girls such as yourself shouldn't worry about.

I see that you all found my stash of chocolate brandy."

"Oh, yeah. Good stuff, man. Husky found your actual liquor when I already ate some. I am not a very sweet guy myself, but I can make an exception for this."

"Did Lucifer kick you out?"

"He just needs a little bit of time for himself. It's fine.

I told him everything now."

"You did, huh?"

"Including the fact that you are a crazy psycho son of a bitch?"

"What is syko?"

"Oh, nothing, sweet cheeks. Is just the official diagnosis for whatever your dear friend Alie has wrong on the head. And the reason why we are all stuck here."

"Ehem. What are you doing, dear?"

"I am painting this eye I saw on the car. Papa said that I must have confused a balloon or something, but it blinked at me and I blinked back."

"Oh.

What… lovely artistic rendition, dear.

The red tentacles are a creative touch."

"So! How long do we get before we kick the bucket? Any estimates, mister smiles? Because I have this big fat bag of… especial sugar! Yeah, let's go with that. That I want to try on at the very end.

I had this shit on a fratboy's party one time and it was so good that I had to get it for myself. I have been saving it up for a especial time.

I swear, the only good thing colledge did for me was presenting me with the good shit and that alone made it worth it."

"I don't know. When the last listener stops listening the energy is going to start to fail. It could take a few more hours at least, depending on the mood they are in."

"But you are gonna tell us before, right? Because it would really suck let my especial sugar go to waste like that. Me and Husky are the only ones having so don't ask for it."

"Officer Husker?"

"Fuck off. You don't get to judge me in how I spend my last hours."

"I wasn't going to. I was just remembering all the teens you lock up for having similar recreational activities like that."

"We did that only if they were causing a ruckus already. We let them go when they sobered up."

"Hey, I wasn't saying anything. You do what you gotta do, babe. If it were for me, you would have joined me on my ruckus from the start."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah."

"EHEM.

Look at the hour, it's lunch time already!

Charlie, my dear, would you maybe like some pizza rolls? I am not the biggest fan, but Niffty keeps putting them on the grocery list. I don't think she eats them, but I don't want to ask what she does with them either."

"Is papa not going to eat?"

"Your dad is… busy right now. He will come join us when he gets hungry."

"Oh. Then I will eat later."

"Sweetie, I know I said you can't have this chocolate, but if you are hungry you can still have something to eat."

"I am not hungry. I will wait for papa. Papa likes it more when we eat together."

"Awww, that is the cutest shit I ever heard. Husky, we could have had a cute kid like that."

"What."

"Oh my god, you should see your face right now! Oh, that was priceless."

"I mean, if I it were with you I wouldn't mind that much."

"What."

"Hah, you are right, that is a funny expression. I am just kidding, kiddo.

But our kids would have been the best though."

"Okay, slow down, cowboy. Maybe we could have adopted a cat together before that."

"I didn't take you for the cat type."

"With that purring they do and those cute paws? Who can resist? And if they get tired of your bullshit they just cut you. What is there not to love?"

"I am sure that your dad will understand, dear."

"No, thank you. I will wait for papa."

"Charlie. Where are you going?"

"I don't have more yellow so I will look the job crayons!"

"The what now?"

"I have a stash of crayons for her on the studio. She only used them one time, I didn't think she would remember.

Charlie, I don't think…"

"Papa."

"H-hi, duckling. How are you?"

"Are you having allergies again? Your eyes are all puffy."

"Y-yeah. Yeah. A lot of allergies, baby."

"Okay. Alie is making pizza rolls for lunch. Do you want some?"

"Baby, you don't need to worry about me, alright? Just… come with me for a second, okay? I just really need to hug you.

You know papa loves you more than anything, don't you?"

"Yeah. I love you too, papa!"

"I… I am sorry I brought you here. I am so sorry. I made a huge mistake. You deserved so much better than this.

We should have stayed at home where mom was."

"But I like it here."

"Y-you do?"

"Yeah! Everyone is nice and the food is good and Alie is here! And I like papa here. We get go out and see the dogs at the park and play! Everyday is fun with papa here!"

"Knock, knock. If I may interrupt…

I couldn't help but listen.

You didn't do anything wrong. Even if you had tried to leave you couldn't have. This place has a certain grasp on it's residents. I am afraid that once you signed the papers, there was no turning back. And before that you had no way of knowing what was going to happen.

It was all just a horrible coincidence that you end up here. You are fully innocent in all of this."

"Are you telling the truth?"

"I swear on my life."

"Oh, the job crayons!"

"Just… let me ask you a question, Alastor. If we have known each other before and I still haven't signed the papers, would you have told me any of this?"

"Darling. If I had known you before any of this, I would have never let you come one step closer to this place. I would have locked you up on your mansion myself so I never risk it and thrown the key to the bottom of the ocean, until all of this was over and you could read all about it on my will.

But I am not going to deny that I am glad you are here now. If that makes me a monster, then guilty of charge."

"It does actually.

But kinda late to complain about that, I guess."

"You are not wrong."

"Well.

What now?"

"We wait. For as long someone is listening the radio tower will keep transmitting. Then we wait until the power rans out. Then it's over.

You can spend the time here however way you like."

"Will it hurt?"

"No, not at all. It didn't hurt to me. It was just like… a very long blinking. You won't even realize that your heart stopped."

"Oh god.

You are a fucking idiot and I hate you, you know that?"

"You hugging me while saying that is sending mixed signals, darling."

"Fuck you and hug me already."

"Always, dear."

"Papa, are we going to eat soon?"

"Y-yes. Yes, baby, in a moment."

"Breath, darling."

"Shut up.

Alright.

Just let me get to the bathroom to wash my face and then I will prepare something for all of us. Pizza rolls you say you wanted?"

"Yeah!"

"Pizza rolls it is. Alastor."

"Yes, darling?"

"You look like shit. Wash yourself too."

"That is what happen when you sleep under a desk."

"Why…? You know what, I don't care. Too many questions for a lifetime already. Just clean yourself. You don't have a shower here?"

"One. But it's small."

"Use it.

I am not doing this shit looking like a mess."

"You could never, darling."

"Just go.

Charlie, baby, can you stay with Anthony and the police man until we are back?"

"I am going to finish my drawing! The big eye on the sky that watches all the channels at once!"

"Sounds very cool, sweetie. Show it to me later, okay?

Wait. Just one more hug. I love you so, so much, baby. You are the best kid any papa could want."

"You are the best papa, daddy!"

"Come on now.

Where is the bathroom?"

"Ah, I didn't get to tell you. We only have one bathroom here. The one with the shower. There is no separation between that and the washer. It's all concetrated in a small space.

Now you know we spend most of the money on the equipment.

I can wait outside for you if you like."

"Why? Did you grew something I haven't seen before since the last time I saw you?"

"No, but…"

"Listen, if you want to wait outside, be my guest. I am not the one kicking you out.

That was you.

Where the hell is that static noise coming from?

Oh, you actually came in."

"I got the sense you were expecting that."

"Kinda."

"If you don't mind then…

You are taking an awful lot of time just washing your face, darling."

"I am looking.

Does it bother you?"

"No. But I don't know what I should do about it."

"Do you want to do something?"

"Yes."

"Like what?"

"You don't mind about being constantly on air now? Someone is still hearing."

"I am not doing anything. You are the one who wanted to do something while you are naked in front of me and then stopped before explaining yourself.

Besides… who the hell knows how long we have now. I don't know about you, but I would much prefer to have something to not remember what is happening outside than not. You are about the most interesting thing in this cramped and surprisingly clean bathroom of yours.

Even if you are still a piece of shit. And part of me just wants to punch you until I get tired.

But I don't wanna be angry right now. I just want to feel good again.

So indulge me.

What did you want to do?"

"Take care of you."

"Then do."

#appleradio #radioapple #duckiedeer #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel au

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teacuptoast · 1 year

Text

Swallow Your Pride

GIF by bitchbloggerspost

Relation: Young Justice x platonic! gn! reader

Warnings: Self-destructive tendencies, Alcohol, mention of death, angsty af so prepare yourself

Words: 1.6k

Summary: "Everyone wishes they had superpowers but I’d give anything for them to leave me alone.”

Swallow Your Pride is the 3rd Part of Dead or Alive or Neither, P2: Hollow Spectators

A/N: Only took me 5 months haha. Anyway, this one is definitely a favorite of mine so I hope you enjoy it. If you have any thoughts or feedback please consider leaving them in the comments! It really helps me grow as a writer and I love hearing from you all! Happy reading!

Navigation:

“Does anything help? Anything make them go away?”

I shifted in my seat uncomfortably, “Nothing.”

“Anything…less recreational?”

“Handle of liquor doesn't even phase me, same with the drugs. Even the less PG activities don’t help, not physically anyway.”

Her pen scribbled down on the clipboard. Looking up at me every couple of seconds like I'd disappear. While her face didn’t show disappointment, I know she felt it. I could see it in her eyes, the ‘I wish I could have told her I loved her’ look or the ‘I can’t believe that's the last thing I said to him’ look.

Raising her head she looked up at me, eyes asking the obvious. I wouldn’t bring it up; because she would just spew it to the rest of them. They would tiptoe around me like I was covered in glass, fearing that one wrong move would break me completely. Maybe I was fraggle, mentally at least, but I think I've done a pretty good job at protecting myself.

“You’ve struggled for so long Y/N. We have the resources to help you,” She pleaded, “Why not reach out for help?”

It’s obvious isn’t it.

I calmly pursed my lips together, “Might as well frost a burnt cake.” Raising a brow, her face scrunched. It took her a few seconds but quickly understood.

“And if someone takes a bite,” She asked.

I shook my head and smiled, “Wouldn't change a thing. I’ve simply learned to live with it.”

“It doesn't take a stranger to see that your miserable Y/N. I’m asking you this not as your counselor but as your friend, please, let us help you,” Her eyes scanned for any reaction. She was left searching for anything on a cold, blank canvas.

“I’m not miserable,” I spoke sternly, “The only reason we’re having this conversation is because you suddenly know I have powers.”

My eyes tried to escape around the room as I sighed, “I’ve spent years learning to live with it in my own ways. I was thrown into this nightmare the moment I was born, and I've built quite the life out of my situation.”

The room seemed to be getting hotter as she tried to back petal, “I’m not trying to fix you Y/N–”

“Yes you are,” I bursted, “This is how we work. We stick our noses where we don’t belong until we find something to fix! Well maybe not everyone wants to be saved!” Now she was the one sighing, sinking deeper into her padded chair.

The silence settled in as I took my leave, “You can cut the whole counselor act too. I know you all are just itching to get me a collar.” Grabbing the handle I pushed the door open, wordlessly stepping past the bat hero on the other side.

***

Swaddled in a blanket I curled further into the couch. The sound of bad soap-drama reruns filled my small apartment, poorly drowning out the noise. I’d rather listen to 6 friends in a New York coffee shop than Mary Ann and Douglass, the couple who's been arguing continuously for the past 120 years.

A quiet sigh left my lips as I unwrapped myself. After a quick contemplation I quietly placed my feet on the hardwood flooring. Quickly hitting the remote, I stalked towards the kitchen in search of food. I wasn’t hungry, but I needed something to pass the time. That was a lie.

Scavenging through the cabinets my hands found nothing of interest. If there was no more pasta then I’d just eat rice. With a small shuffle of my feet I found the bag was gone, instead crumpled up and tossed next to the waste bin. A heartless chuckle left my mouth as my head dropped to the floor. It wasn’t long before my body followed, slumped against a cabinet holding my most expensive hobby.

I sat there for a long time, longer than I should have. Thoughts came and went like missed phone calls. They would pop up for a moment and I’d contemplate answering them, before eventually letting them drift on. My consciousness was adrift in a sea of problems, my body running on autopilot.

One sip, two sip, three sip, more sips. I let myself fall deeper into an ocean of expensive regret. Not swimming but drowning, willingly drowning. After letting myself go it was finally quiet; my life truly serene.

I’d sailed so far out that I hadn’t even realized I was now on my feet, stumbling towards the door. A knock or more like an aggressive hit was waiting on the other side. Looking through the keyhole I saw a familiar face.

“I brought food and some of that good liquor you like.”

“Thanks. You can leave it at the door.”

Sighing he looked towards the floor. The two of us waited like a western shootout and I wasn’t about to make the first move.

“Can we just talk,” he asked, “Please.”

Even when we were kids, I was the target of his constant nagging. To him I was proof he didn’t need powers to be a hero. A hero that wasn’t like Batman.

I stared at him a moment longer before reluctantly pulling the handle open. On the other side of the door was a disheveled Dick Grayson. He was wearing jeans and a sweater; nothing too fancy, but he was more put together then I was.

I brought my eyes up to his face where he was impatiently waiting for me. Though I was listening for the howels behind him. Waited for some backhanded comment about how I was the scum of the earth. How I deserved to be dead, not spite those who are already. My mind was foggy and distant, far enough away from reality that I simply couldn’t see them.

Braking from his eyes, I held a hand out and gestured towards the bottle in his grasp. Quickly, he rearranged his hold on the plastic bag and pushed it towards me. My hand anxiously grabbed it before bringing it down to my side.

I couldn’t bother to look at the label as I wandered back towards the TV, “This better be the good shit, Grayson.”

“Only the best for the best,” he answered, hesitantly entering the apartment. Hearing the door shut behind him I fell into a mountain of blankets and pillows, snuggling myself into them. They shielded me from the upcoming conversation.

He took a seat next to me, undoubtedly uncomfortable. He didn’t know where to put his hands, so they ended up stuffed in his lap.

The silence must have been eerie for him as it fell over us. I quickly unscrewed the cap to the bottle. This wasn’t like when we patrolled the watch tower, back then we trusted each other. Though someone had to make a move, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be me.

“Why,” he whispered, “Why didn’t you tell me.”

In his words it felt like a rock was logged in my throat, stopping me from answering. I can’t just tell him it wasn’t his fault. Am I supposed to explain what it’s like, because to me at least, it's livable. Strictly livable. How do you explain to a person who wants the one thing you hate most, that it’s not worth it.

A long breath passed my lips before I took a sip, “I didn’t want to.”

“You remember when we were kids, out in Bialya? I hadn’t even known you for 6 months, and guess who I ran to? You. I ran to you because I knew,” He took a sudden pause, “Well, I thought I knew.” A sense of betrayal laced his voice as he dared to look at me. Rolling my eyes I tipped the bottle again.

Coming out from the blankets I sat up, “It wasn’t your problem,” I slurred, “Besides it’s not like I'm dead or something. I’m still just a regular Joe.” That was another lie.

“A regular Joe who can communicate with the dead. And for the record, if you were actually ok, you would have realized that you were drinking a bottle of Tido’s.”

With the comment my eyes shot towards the bottle, “You son of a bitch,” I dryly laughed. I hated vodka, Tido’s especially; he must have remembered from my 21st.

Though he didn’t seem too amused, “For someone who ‘knows how to handle this’, you look awful,” Setting my poison on the floor he continued, “Swallow your pride Y/N, let us help you.” I looked up to make sure I heard him correctly. When I realized I did, something snapped.

It was the straw that broke the camel's back.

“Can you help me? Like you have a clue about what goes on inside my head,” I started, “I have spent years, no, decades figuring how to live like this.”

My sarcasm started to boil into anger, “So yeah, i’m not perfectly happy, but at least I can say I’m alive. After being surrounded by grief and death for so long, I can finally prove to myself I’m alive.”

“Maybe being alive isn’t what the world needs from me, but for the first time in my life, I want to live. Live like death isn’t two steps behind me,”

“Then let us help you-”

Amused, I looked at him, “I’m done with this hero bullshit.”

He looked panicked by their sudden statement, “Then let me save you Y/N.”

“Haven’t you learned anything,” I shouted, “I can’t let you save me, because I want to save myself!”

A/N: How was the story? Got some feedback? Let me know in the comments. Thanks for reading and I'll see you soon!

#young justic x reader #young justice imagines #kid flash x you #nightwing x reader #dc x reader #dc imagine #dc imagines #batfam x reader

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igotanidea · 1 year

Text

Still waters run deep: Dick Grayson x f!readear

Summary: Here are some things I heard about myself: Kind of a girl that looks young, innocent and harmless. Kind of a girl you know is the weakest link in direct combat. Kind of a girl you tend to ignore beacuse she is no threat. The girl you feel the need to protect. (ironically, completely different than the previous one). A sensitive one. A shy one. Well, tonight I'm going out in sole purpose to have some fucking fun, cause life has been a mess lately. So, let's see if I'm going to act like shy and sensitive one after a couple of drinks. Oh, Dick's not going to like it.......

Warnings: cursing, a bit of smut (minors DNI!), mentions of illegal activities,

First person POV

This has been a hell of a week.

Between fighting with titans and keeping my secret identity a secret I also had to deal with day-to-day regular job and it made it twice as much energy consuming than for everyone else.

Of course, my thoughtful (and a bit too possessive) boyfriend tried to convince me to give one it up and commit to the Titans fully, but much to his disappointment (to say the least) I refused , trying to balance it all.

So, can you blame for being stressed and drained?

Given all that I had two options – lay down, getting all my emotions suppress me or quite literally shake it off. A little party was just what I needed. But going out alone was not something I enjoyed, so the plan was to somehow convince Donna and Dawn to have a girl’s night out.

“I’m out” Donna muttered, not even raising eyes from the book she was reading

“Oh, come on” I whined “all work and no play…..”

“Don’t.” she cut me off, warning in her voice and instinctively I looked down moved by her harsh tone “Sorry Y/N. You know I don’t mean in in a bad way, but seriously. I really need some time alone, all right? I’ll join you next time.”

“Fine. I won’t push you. Hopefully Dawn will be up for the party.”

“Sorry, Y/N, I’m staying too. Hank has been going through something and I need to get him to talk before it gets out of hand.” Dawn chimed in

“Right. Can’t risk the big guy losing control.” I muttered getting her point but still disappointed

“No hard feelings though, right?” the blonde asked putting a hand on my shoulder, reassuringly

“No, no, of course not. I guess I will just go alone than.”

“Is your boyfriend not up to some dance with you?” Donna smirked knowing well enough how Dick felt about any and every party. Bruce had him discouraged during the years when he was forced to attend Wayne’s yearly galas. Therefore, I was not even going to ask him.

“Such a surprise, right?” I rolled my eyes ironically

“You know, maybe you should give him a chance.” Dawn suggested “I’m pretty sure he will go anywhere with you.”

“The point is, I want to party, not watch him eye everyone in search of a potential threat, so…. yeah, I’m going alone.”

“Stay safe than” Donna muttered, back into lecture

“She knows how to handle herself. Have fun Y/N.

It took my quite a while to get all dolled up, wearing the dress that surely drew attention and was far more revealing than the hero suit I was used to, and putting a bit more makeup than on a daily basis. Truly, even with all my self-doubts and modesty, I had to admit I looked hot as hell. This is going to be a good night. I though as I sneaked out the tower.

***

Dawn was only partially right. I knew how to handle myself, but still all I heard from people was that H/N was the weakest link in combat. That Y/N was that kind of girl that pose no threat and the one you don’t really give attention to. It always made me …. sad and a bit angry for being seen like this. There was so much more to me they never seen. But tonight, tonight I was going to let it all go and just let loose. Knowing well enough, Dick would never approve of my plan for the night. Well, I was not his possession, was I?

***

Third person POV

Dick was working out, not surprising to anyone. He needed a good training after the whole week of stress, anxiety and fast action not that it was going to change anytime soon. He was truly hoping this will clear his mind, but clearly it did not. So the other option was to find his girlfriend and let her soothing presence and her soft touches calm him down. He truly had no idea how she ended up with him. He was rage, she was clear thinking, he was impulsive and a bit reckless, she was always the one with the plan and clear vision. He missed her. For the last days they didn’t really spend much time together and when they did it was usually just sleeping together, tangled with other, trying to get as close as possible without disrupting the rest they both so desperately needed. Passing by was not good for the relationship and she pointed it out once, when instead of spending time with her he was up late, but he never listened. Until now. With the best intention to make up for his negligence he started searching the tower for her, but the girl was nowhere to be found.

“Has anyone seen Y/N? I can’t find her anywhere.”

“Seems to me like she finally broke.” Hank muttered with mouth full of some crazy dish he made “got to admit, she was pretty resistant in ditching you.”

“I’m serious. Did she left the tower?”

“Do you think you can keep her a prisoner here? She’s a free spirit, a fierce woman with ……”

Since Hank was not helping, Dick decided to ask Donna and Dawn if they knew anything. At first, they kept their mouth shout, not revealing the plan their friend made, but seeing his sad puppy eyes and real worry on the boy’s face they gave in.

“She went to a party” he repeated a bit confused. Why? Why would she go without him? Why wouldn’t she tell him a thing? Was she going for a one night stand? “Where?”

“She wasn’t specific about that, but knowing Y/N she joined the first club on the way.”

“I need to find her.”

“No, you don’t. She deserves fun.” Dawn objected

“It’s not like I’m going to destroy it” he stated, crossing arms on his chest “what?” his face dropped a bit upon seeing girls’ mocking expressions

“Not at all, Dick. You’re just a party animal.”

“I….” he tried to say something, but at the same time his phone rang and he was fast to pick it up seeing it was Y/N calling. “Y/N? Baby, where are you? are you all right? Did something happen? I will pick you up just tell me….”

“Dickie….” She slurred “I’m having so much fun! All those boys are just so friendly, you know. Wish you were here, boyfriend. TIME OF MY LIFE!” and then she just hanged up on him.

“Was she drunk? She never gets drunk.” Dawn was now a bit concerned about her friend safety

“Are you sure that she knows how to handle herself now?” Donna was obviously sarcastic on the outside but quite as much worried inside “she has no real fighting skills and if some creeps are all over her…..”

“Stop it!” Dick felt his blood boil at the mere thought of any other dude touching or even getting close to his girlfriend. If anyone were to cross the line and to hurt her, he would have no mercy and no hesitation in permanently hurting all of the perpetrators “We’re getting her home. I’ll track her phone. “ he rushed to the elevator grabbing his jacket on the way, ready to fulfill his knight in shining armor duties.

“Do you think we should go after him?” Dawn looked at Donna. Dick was really in the state of mind in which he was capable of everything.

“I’m not his babysitter” Donna scoffed “And neither are you.”

“But maybe we should make an exception and just this once follow him?” Dawn insisted

“What about Hank?” Wondergirl asked

“What about me?” said boy came through the door, a bowl full of food still in his hands.

“He can join.” Dawn shrugged, not really giving the boy any liberty to decide for himself

“What exactly are you girls getting me into?”

“A party, apparently. Main stars being very drunk Y/N and very angry Dick.”

“Well if that’s the show I’m all in.” Hank was already halfway to the door. “Are you coming or what?”

***

First person POV

I made a really, really good decision to come here. After a couple of drinks all of my inhibitions dissolved and I wasn’t the quiet member of the team anymore. Oh no! Now I was the star of my own show! Dancing like there was no tomorrow, moving my body, showing my best moves. Old, quiet Y/N was long gone, the sex queen raised. Apparently I was not solitary in that opinion as a couple of guys, I was eyeing for some time now, came closer to me, following my dance moves. One of them grabbed my hips from behind as the other put his on my waist. Shit, they were both so hot and I giggled seductively trying to imagine how surprised Dick would be right now if he saw me. Not a good girl anymore! Not the one he could omit and neglect and left high and dry, unfinished . This was not a revenge or a payback, this was my way of getting what I needed, what I wanted, what I deserved. If my boyfriend wasn’t up to the job I needed some other forms of entertainment.

The song changed into something far more sexual and the guy moving behind me started to pull me closer as his friend leaned in, his faces inches from mine. I did not stop him as his lips crashed on mine, his hands started roaming my body, caressing my skin pulling me off the dance floor. I let him fully take control of me. After all, like I said I was eyeing him all night, giving signals to come closer and have his fun.

“come with me, baby. Let’s go somewhere private and quiet, shall we. I’ll make you feel good, you look like you need it”.

“Less talking, more action” I whispered in his ear “I want to get you all alone, loverboy.”

The last sentence finally made him grab my hand tighter and get me out, downstairs. Apparently the club was situated above some old bunker, not that I cared when I picked it as my nightly destination.

Third person POV

***

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!?

Getting the signal from her phone took Dick just a few seconds and getting to the place where it came from, mere minutes. He was quite relieved to realize she wasn’t far but the view before his eyes made him regret getting here so fast. His love, his sunshine, his girlfriend was practically making out with some dude, that wasn’t him. In the middle of the club! What happened to the girl reluctant to any form of PDA!?

FUCK!

This fucking guy was touching her in the way no one else but him was supposed to! Getting his dirty hands on her perfect hips, trying to sneak them under her dress to feel her soft, smooth skin. For a while his mind was blurred with the memory of her naked body underneath him, whining and squirming in pleasure only he was capable of giving her. The flashback of her begging him for more, more…. Of her hands all over him, pulling him in, her soft moans as he was getting her high, her quiet words assuring him that she loved him so, so much and that he was doing so, so good…..

I need more, Dick…… please…. I need you so bad…..

I love you baby, I love you so much. Tell me you’re mine.

I’m yours, Dickie. Only yours…..

And I’m yours, baby. Let me show you…..

FUCK! FUCK! He was going to kill him for even looking in her direction! His poor baby girl. Seduced, probably drugged and used! The sudden movement, coming from the direction where she was, made him come back to reality and as he saw that lapdog drug her out into more secluded part of the building, the Robin with his ruthlessness took over his mind and action. Oh, this was going to be a bloodbath.

Just a couple minutes later, the rest of the Titans team entered the club. At first glance everything was fine, but Dawn was quick to pick up on Dick’s figure disappearing behind the back. It took her a second to figure out his posture was now different, more stiff, more grim, all his muscles tensed and fist clenched. The only things he was missing were mask and cape, but besides that, he wasn’t Dick Grayson anymore.

“Fuck!” Donna hissed realizing the same thing.

“What? What is going on?” Hank wasn’t even half as fast in recognition as girls, confused and lost in the situation.

“Just shut up and hurry or someone will end up hurt!”

***

First person Pov

“Where are you taking me? “ I giggled almost tripping over my legs, letting the stranger guide me

“Patience, baby, we’re almost there.

“I need you now” I whined, not being patient.

“I now, sweetie, I know. But trust me, once we’re in the safe place you won’t get rid of me….” He trailed, something dark in his voice

“I surely hope so…..” I started but didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence as something dark and stinking covered my head, my face included cutting off the oxygen supply and making me black out.

Oh, fuck….

***

I have no idea how long I was unconscious but I woke up to the sound of a few male voices, three or four most probably, but the extreme headache I was now experiencing did nothing to my evaluative skills. Oh, and I was also tied up, not able to move, my hands above my head, facing all the capturers.

“how many pills did you give her?” one of the man said

“One as planned.” The other replied

“Well, if it was one she would be up by now, you idiot! I’m serious, how many!?”

“One or two additional may have slipped in.”

“You dumbass! We need her aware of what’s happening! It makes everything far more funny.”

“I agree with him. The screams and attempted fight just spice the whole act” Ok, that was the third

“All of you shut up now!” the last one. So my calculations were right. There were four of them. Despite the situation, I congratulated myself in the back of my head. I groaned a bit and it got their attention “Oh, the princess is finally waking up. Welcome back to the land of the living, sweetie.”

“Where….. where am I?” I muttered narrowing my eyes. Gods, why all of the kidnappers always had to use the brightest light available.

“Well, it really depends from the point of view. From mine, you are on the verge of heaven, from yours probably first step of hell.”

“Are you the boss?” I looked him straight into the eyes

“ Are you always so eloquent?” he crouched next to me and grabbed my face painfully “and here I was thinking you were only a pretty face and a nice ass” he slap my back and I flinched. What did I got myself into?

“What are you going to do to me?” I sobbed, tears falling down my cheeks now.

“Oh, there it is. You are finally realizing what is going to happen to you, don’t you? Such a pathetic little bitch. Probably forgotten by a busy boyfriend, am I right? Desperate for entertainment and attention. Those are the easiest catch.”

I shook my head abruptly, the mascara smudged all over my face, vision blurry.

“Don’t cry princess. Where we are sending you, you’re going to have plenty of boys ready to thoroughly devour your attributes” the man laughed viciously. “Am I right boys?”

“So what is it? Some sort of trafficking ring? You sell girls to the brothels?” I gasped in terror, my eyes growing wide and mouth falling open in awe.

“You little pinhead” he cooed “you’re lucky you’re pretty, because sensibleness is not your strongest suit. Yes, we will send you to one of our massage parlors. The clients will love you. And hey, another good thing. You will get to meet with some other bitchy hoses like you. After all, you were asking for it, weren’t you, you little slutty whoredog?” he leaned across, his face inches from mine.

“Ok, I think that’s enough.” I stated, becoming calm and sober in a blink of an eye. Before any of the guys wrapped their heads around the situations I did a flip, kicking their boss straight into the jaw, probably causing the ostectopy and sending him flying back. One out, three to go. The second one came right at me but I used my strength to hoist up and wrap my legs around his neck.

“Here’s a taste of your own medicine” I spat, now causing him to black out due to the lack of oxygen. “Not so nice is it?”

Two to go.

The third man came from behind me with some stick in his hands, his gaze fixed solely on my face. Oh, poor one, he thought he got himself some crazy weapon. Fool. It was way too easy to just trip him up, causing the guy to make friends with the floor.

“You bitch!” right, there was the last one. Probably the smartest (irony of course) observing my moves and trying to get the best strategy to get me.

“Please, tell me you are at least a bit better in fighting than those scumbags” I sighed in desperation. Honestly, my hands was becoming a bit sore and I wanted to get over this situation.

“You bitch!” he yelled again. Definitely wasn’t the one with wide stock of words, but what can you expect in his profession. Taking cue from his friend, he tried to gather himself some gear, settling on a rusty chain laying nearby, spinning it over, almost hitting me. I just moved a bit to the right and then to the left and then a bit more to the wall, the man following me closely still playing with the chain. In the final moment I ducked and the weapon bounded off the wall hitting him right in the face, knocking him out. So, all four hurt, unconscious and defeated. The only problem for now was getting out of the rope that hamstringed my wrists.

“Do you need help with that?” a familiar voice and a familiar face egressed from the shadows.

“Nah, not really. I can handle myself” I smirked casually. In some other circumstances I would probably add a shrug but it was a bit impossible now.

“Mhm, I see” Dick came closer, stopping just a foot away from me. All of a sudden the closeness made me away of my vulnerable position. Ironically, I was not scared standing with my hands up in front of four dangerous men, but became paralyzed in front of my boyfriend. And shit if he didn’t; know that.

“Did you follow me? How much did you see? Wait, how long were you creeping there?” I tried to take control of the situation.

“Long enough to see you to do some improper things with someone that wasn’t me.”

“I bet he learned his lesson by now” I pointed my head towards said man lying on the floor, stepping from one foot to another. The position was getting more and more uncomfortable with every second.

“Oh, not even close. It’s me who will give him a lesson. When I’m done there will be nothing to pick.”

“Dick….” I whined, now really in pain.

“You got some moves baby” oh, this jerk really enjoyed having me on his mercy “why did you never show it in the tower?”

“You know, I’m really living by the still waters run deep rule. I…..” I groaned a bit and his eyes darkened at the sound “I like the element of surprise.”

“Do you? Well, this really was a surprise to me. In more than one way.” His face was now inches away from mine and I felt my cheeks (and not only them) growing hot.

“Dickie…..” I whined again

“By the way, are those the guys who were engaged in human trafficking? The one who sell girls to brothels? The ones we were trying to track for the last month?”

“Yes…. I…..”

“So this was your plan all along?! Did you know how much danger you were in!?” his voice grew a bit more angry now. He was probably imagining all the things that could have happened to me. It served him right! “What if they were stronger than you? What if you weren’t able to defeat yourself? What if…..?”

“Grayson!” I yelled in frustration cutting him off.

“What is it babygirl?” he faked innocence.

“Can you… can you get me out of this ropes? Please? It hurts now. ”

“Don’t know. I saw you doing some things I didn’t like tonight. I think you deserve a bit of punishment for that” he smirked.

“Dickie….. please, please…” I moaned in that special way and it turned him on at once as he crashed his lips on mine, one of his hands lifting me up motioning to wrap my legs around his waist, the other untying the rope finally setting my arms free. As soon as he did both of his hands circled around my waist pulling me closer to his chest, squeezing me against his body while his lips and the kiss became faster, hungrier, more passionate and predatory. Not that I complained as my own fingers ghosted over his arms and chest, going down to the hem of his shirt, slowly peeling it of him. He groaned and pushed me to the wall to enable himself to pull that useless piece of material over his head. God, he was so well built it took my breath every time I saw him shirtless. He was so warm and strong I instantly felt safe, craving his touch, his attention and affection tossing my own shirt away.

“What happened to you?” he muttered against my skin, his lips moved to my neck and shoulder covering it with kisses and hickeys.

“What…. What do you mean?” I gasped as he found one particularly sensitive spot.

“We are practically in a public place. Everyone can nail us going so physical” his lips ghosted over my half-exposed breast “you were always so private, babe…..”

“I missed you” I confessed “and I honestly don’t care anymore. I need you. I want you. I don’t care who can see us…. Make love to me…..” I whispered and felt his pulse raise.

“I missed you too…..” his hands reached towards the clasp of my bra, letting my breast free “I’m gonna make you feel so good babe….”

***

“I don’t want to see anymore of this. I’m gonna be sick” dark haired girl standing in the corner turned on her heel and rushed out.

“Well, I am quite enjoying the show” the muscular boy let out a laugh but being hit through the head by his blonde girlfriend crouched and they both left the room as well. The only people present were two very longing for each other young adults, too busy with themselves to care about the rest of the world.

@somest1 @pinksirensong - I'm sorry to drag you through this ..... 🙈

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theangelwithawand · 4 months

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Church on Ruby Road

Okay… I liked that!

There were so many better, more organic ways to introduce Ruby’s search for answers about her bio family then that awkward time skip/ clip show. It could have just been two days. But that interview is just such a blatant excuse to dump her name, age, education level, the fact that she

Because here’s the thing…everything I liked about Ruby, I learned watching her go about her life. I liked watching her with her friends, be a real person. All of the other character work happened once she got to the house and I watched her with her mom and Cherry. We learn very naturally that she’s looking for her bio family, that she’s upset about not getting answers, but also is clearly happy with her family as it is. Her reaction throughout the entire kidnapping is weird, there’s not enough urgency on her behalf.

The gloves are cool? Like in theory, they’re cool, but I do think they get a bit marvel-ish at the end.n

The goblin ship design and interior set are cool, just doesn’t feel very Doctor Who. I like the explanation of how the goblins work though.

Doctor, I have seen you untie ropes with your sonic.

“I am learning the vocabulary of rope!”

The goblins are kinda unthreatening, they just let the Doctor and Ruby stand there. The goblins look good though, they did a good job combining practical and digital effects.

I wish that maybe Ruby felt guilty for being distracted that Lulubelle was kidnapped, (not that she should feel guilty, it would just give more emotional depth to her).

At first I didn’t like how rushed Ruby’s disappearance is, but I think it gives more disorientation to the episode. I love the lighting switch, how everything becomes desaturated. It’s very subtle and I didn’t notice it the first time. Carla’s sudden switch is horrifying.

The Doctor’s tears…I love how much compassion he has. This is the Doctor I love, that I’ve missed. I do wish that he and Ruby had gotten a quieter moment to bond, just to make this feel a little more desperate, and the reunion even sweeter.

The episode does feel like it has two climaxes, Lulubelle’s rescue and baby Ruby’s rescue. The rescue of Ruby does feel rushed and I still don’t understand the crack in the ceiling or why the ship just disappears.

Okay…Ruby Sunday. Millie Gibson is really fun. Her dramatic moments are also really well-acted. But…I was really hoping we’d be going back to the type of companion that’s just a person. Like Rory, Rose, Donna, Martha, and Bill. They all have extraordinary things happen to them yes, but they aren’t introduced as mysteries. That’s my least favorite type of companion, because their character is always secondary to the plot. And, I’m going to be honest, I don’t care who Ruby’s parents are. But…oh well.

I do love the scene of Ruby piecing together that the Doctor is a time traveller, and she just thinks that’s cool and wants to go see it, but like…most companions are like that to some degree. At least she has a family though, which is one of my favorite parts of companion stories.

Mrs. Flood could be a cool mystery.

Alright…Ncuti Gatwa is tied with my beloved Ninth doctor. He’s fun and flirty and heroic and empathetic. His theme music rocks. He can do angsty moments really well. I like how the Timeless child is being handled.

All in all, I’m excited for what’s coming.

#doctor who #15th doctor #ncuti gatwa #the church on ruby road #ruby sunday #fourteenth doctor

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lonesome-witching · 6 months

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That's My Fiancée

Another prompt from @rabbitofdeath-atcastleaarrggh. This one is somewhat of a follow up to Engagement Talks but can totally be read independently.

You can read my previous prompts or send me some new ones.

Robin priced herself lucky that she wasn’t often scheduled to work with Keith. In fact, she never really was. But unfortunately he was still her manager and once every month he would supervise one of her and Steve’s shifts. And today was that day.

So far, all Keith had done was nap on the breakroom couch and flirt with female costumers. It was annoying enough. But at least he had stopped hitting on her.

“Do you think I could get away with drawing a mustache on his face while he sleeps?” Robin asked, leaning against the counter

“Probably,” Steve replied without looking up from his magazine.

Robin chuckled. “Do you have a marker?”

“No.”

“Well, shit. There goes my afternoon entertainment.”

“Bring your own markers next time.” Steve turned the page of the magazine.

Maybe she would have been annoyed with that reply on any other day. Just like she would have been more annoyed with Keith. But today she couldn’t be bothered, today all she thought about was the diamond ring that she had put on Nancy’s finger.

The bell above the door echoed through the nearly empty store. Robin turned around with the shadow of a smile still present on her face.

“Nancy?”

Steve looked up. “Hi, Nance.”

“Hi,” Nancy replied as the door to the breakroom opened.

“Nancy, how can I help you today?” Keith pushed his way in front of Robin and Steve.

“I can help her,” Robin interjected.

“No, no, that is fine. You and Steve can shelf the returns and the box of new releases that’s in the back.” He waved his hand at them.

“But—”

“Robin, go shelf those movies.”

She nodded her head with a soft groan. Begrudgingly she walked around the store, pushing tapes into their rightful spot. It was a tedious job, but she didn’t mind it. What she did mind was Keith grating voice.

“You know, Nancy, I am single at the moment,” Keith said. He was leaning on the counter.

“Good for you, I’m not,” Nancy replied, looking over his shoulder at her girlfriend. At her fiancée.

“Well, I was hoping we could grab some dinner. I’m free tonight.”

“I’m afraid I can’t. I have plans and I’m in a relationship.”

“Maybe this Friday?”

“Keith, I’m not going to go out with you.”

“Oh, come on, Nancy. We both know you want me.”

Nancy’s polite smile fell off her face, her eyes searching for Robin and finding the other girl looking at her.

“Keith, I really don’t.”

He reached out, his fingers grabbing Nancy’s arm. “Come on, Nancy.”

She pulled her arm back. “Please stop.”

“Your boyfriend doesn’t need to know. He’s not here.”

Robin dropped the tape she was holding. Her blood was boiling, and this boy may be her manager, but he was not going to get away with this. She took the few steps to the counter.

“Actually, Keith, that’s my fiancée,” she said with a tight-lipped smile and daggers in her eyes.

Nancy bit her bottom lip as she held up her hand, showing of her diamond ring.

Keith had the decency to look mortified. When he looks back over to Nancy, she is flipping him the bird with a bright smile on her face. He pushed his way past the girls and out the store.

Steve stood looking at them for a second. “You’re engaged?”

Robin couldn’t even get a word in before he pulled them both into a hug, squeezing them close.

“Yeah, we are,” Nancy said as Steve let them go.

“I’m so happy for the both of you. And the way you handled Keith was incredible. I wouldn’t be surprised if he never set foot in this store again.”

“What can I say? That’s my fiancée.” Nancy leaned to press her lips against Robin’s cheek.

#prompts #ronance #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #my work #stranger things #fanfic #robin x nancy #nancy x robin

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daineic-art · 7 months

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-taps mic- Is this thing on?

Okay uh

Hi everyone!

It’s been a… long time since I’ve been actually active, hasn’t it? Well- I have a few explanations if you’d like to sit down and hear them.

To make a really long story short, I fell out of love with SSO. The game was not fun for me anymore and I found no joy in it due to multiple reasons. My own general drama moments, there were multiple things the company did, different things I got into, etc.

The biggest thing (now don't laugh I know how stupid this sounds in relation to Star Stable) was trauma. Yes, trauma. When you've been groomed using a game you've loved since you were 9 years old… you kind of stop playing that game. I resented this game for literal years due to trauma and SSO didn't help themselves by making some dumb decisions. But I was also a kid with trauma I didn't know how to handle. I can't even pinpoint exactly when everything happened, but I know it was around my mid-teens, and has been years since. I have done a lot of soul-searching and development since then because, wow, people can change! Some developments include; I started going to college, didn't like it, and I dropped out. I quit my very awful retail job and got something more akin to my field of study. Then finally, probably the most important one, I got out of an abusive relationship that I got into due to desperation. I'm in a new one with someone I genuinely care about and, frankly, want to spend the rest of my life with. It's insane how one person can open up your eyes so much and help you truly heal and change.

And because of that… I want to say sorry to those I might have hurt when I was still young and hurting. I know trauma isn't always an excuse but when it's all you know and you don't know how to control those feelings you are extremely volatile. I'm sorry to the friends I pushed away, I understand why you left. I'm sorry to the friends who stuck around and had to help me but I am also thankful for you. I'm also thankful to my audience who probably has 0 clue what I'm even talking about! I'm also sorry to those who had to witness my crippling hyper-fixation on You-Know-Who. I promise I'm over that LOL (while I still might draw That Specific Man, I am no longer mentally ill about him)

But why am I talking about this? Why all this deep conversation over a game where you ride around on a horse? Because I want to set my own record straight for myself and I want to start with a clean slate. This might involve a blog name change, maybe even a blog cleanse. But it starts here, with this post. And I'm really hoping this is the start to something better. I won't be posting right away as I want to get my own lore in order but I figured putting something into the world announcing my return (or that at least I've dropped my malice for the game) would be a good start.

I hope yall stick around! Lots of love from Sam 🦌🌿💚

#sso #star stable #star stable online

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mrs-s-reid · 3 days

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The Office - Spencer x Fem

- Type -

SMUT (With Plot.)

- Plot -

Spencer works at Marbury University. A co-worker of his has been having some less than appropriate thoughts about him and starts to avoid him. But he takes notice and plans to do something about it.

- WARNINGS -

Sexual Themes, Sexual Acts, Strong Language, Detailed descriptions of the act, Mentions of substances such as alcohol and drugs.

- Tags -

SMUT, Uses of the title Sir, Male dominant, Female Submissive, unprotected sex, Semi-public, Office sex, Consent given, Co-workers, Rough, masturbation, mutual masturbation.

First Person POV

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AT MARBURY UNIVERSITY

Jesus I'm tired. I thought to myself as I walked down the halls towards my office. I work at Marbury University as Admin. I handle student records and help place students in classes and courses that they want and that work for their level of intellect too. I love my job, though it can be a hassle. At least I get the school holidays off and paid vacation too. There's also the benefit of certain eye candy that walks these halls that goes by the name Dr. Spencer Reid. His good looks had a way of making even the married women here fawn. His obliviousness to his good looks made him adorable too.

As I entered my office my thoughts halted. Speak of the devil there he stood. Standing tall in front of of my bookshelf his hands holding one of my first edition Oliver Twist books. One of my favorites. I watched as his hands caressed the spine and the other followed the sentences on the page. I faked a cough to get his attention. "Well, what can I do for you Dr. Reid?" He turned to face me a smile spread across his face as his eyes met mine. "Hey, I was wondering if you could look up a student for me? It's for a case I'm helping the FBI with." I walked towards my desk and sat in front of my computer.

"Can't you ask Agent Garcia?" I knew his team. They visit him enough at the University. Penelope was my favorite. "She's busy exploring some *cough* sealed files." The end of his sentence was quiet. I made an 'ahh' face as I opened up my system to help search for this student. "Ok now that makes sense. Ok Agent, who am I looking for? Tell me you at least have a name." He just chuckled "Yes don't worry. I'm looking for a Tomas Luca, he may be taking one of my classes or at least auditing it." I nodded as I type the name into my system. "Ok I have two Tomas Lucas', But only one that takes your class. I will send his file to you now." He sighs in relief "Thank you so much. This will help us a lot." He hugged my from behind me and walked out my office calling the team to let them know what we found. And I was left with butterflies from what just happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

LATER THAT WEEK

I walked through the campus enjoying the hot weather. It was unusually hot today. And due to the main building where our offices were being so old there was no AC. And it was hell. So on my break I decided I would grab an iced latte from the cafe on campus to try and keep me cool in the office. As I left the cafe I saw Spencer leaving the Library. "Oh, hey Dr. Reid!" I called out for him. "Hey! This weather is extreme for this time of year isn't it," As he rambled on about the statistic of this type of weather and how it's unusual I just watched his lips and his eyes. Maybe it was the heat but he looked extra good today. His hair was pushed back and slightly damp. His sleaves rolled up and shirt unbuttoned at the top. His usual vest missing and his bag resting on his shoulder not across his body like usual. I liked my lips as I saw a bead of sweat drip from the side of his face down his neck.

"You ok?" I snapped back to reality and realized he had stopped in front of me a look of concern on his face. "Yeah, sorry, must be the heat playing with me you know?" He slightly nodded but didn't look like he was fully buying it. "Anyway I'm going to head back to my office. Tis the season of new students and old students wanted to change courses." We said our goodbyes and I walk back to my boiling office. Him playing on my mind. I touched my lips as I thought about his. My mind went to scenarios that it shouldn't have. I was getting more hot and bothered than I had before. As my mind ran wild with these thoughts of my co-worker.

I tried to distract my self with work. And it helped. I went through all my files of new students and their applications of courses they wanted to partake in. I set up meetings for those who needed career advice. Once I glanced at the clock I saw that it was 7pm. Shit I thought. It was real late. I needed to leave soon or I would be locked in the office building. As I packed up my belongings my mind went back to Spencer. Why did he have to look that good and be that damn smart. He was Gods perfect recipe. Or the devils. I wasn't too sure which one he was just yet.

As I left the building I saw someone waiting outside. It was Spencer. "Well hello again Dr. Reid." He turned and smiled, "Hey, I was just wondering if you were ok now. You seemed a bit off earlier?" I looked down trying to hide my blushing face. "Uh yeah! I'm ok. I was just stressed, I got a lot of files to go through this week. Like a lot." I tried to emphasize how much work I had to do to try and get my point across. "Ok if you're sure. I guess I will see you tomorrow then?" I just nodded. We went our separate ways. And I made my way towards my car. This was starting to become a problem I thought. I needed to get my thoughts under control.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AT HOME

Finally. I'm home. "Meow." My black cat rubbed up against my leg. "Hey Fig!" He chirped back. "I guess you're hungry?" I walked into the kitchen and poured out some biscuits for him. Once he was all sorted I walked into my room to grab a towel. "Ok, shower time." My bathroom was spacious. A his and hers sink set with a rainforest shower. I loved my shower. It had a tiled seat on one end which made shaving a lot easier. As I turned the shower on my thoughts wondered back to Spencer. He looked almost too good. His hands pushing his hair back. The way he tilted his head back as he tried to deal with the heat. His Adams apple being on show as he gulped down his water. Everything about him was intoxicating.

I starting to imagine his hands on me. The veins in them showing as he tightened his grip on my neck and waist. The feeling of him standing behind me pressing him self against my ass. His crotch hard as he rocks against me. I imagined his hand leaving my waist and slowly making it's way down teasing me. I used my own pretending that it was his. The hot shower water fell on me as I panted. My imagination taking full effect. I teased my self until I couldn't anymore. My breaths shortening but movements becoming more needy. I stopped teasing and finally gave myself what I wanted no what I needed.

I entered my fingers and curled them in a way that hit all the spots I needed them to. My high was nearing and I just went faster and faster imagining him panting in my ear. His words of encouragement. Telling me I was a good girl and that I was taking his fingers to well. But I wanted more. I wanted him. But for now. My imagination would have to do. I needed to finish. And I was close to. I imagined him pleasuring him self as I leaned into him as he stood behind me. All of a sudden a wave of pleasure hit me and I moaned his name. I was left shaking as I finished of my shower.

I couldn't come to terms with what I had just done. How would I face him now. Knowing what I did just now in the shower. I moaned his name. I imagined his hands caressing me. His fingers inside me. I didn't know what think or feel. All I knew was that my work relationship with him just got a lot more complicated.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THE NEXT DAY AT MARBURY UNIVERSITY

I pulled up in my car and rested my head on the steering wheel. Thoughts of yesterday running through my head. I just hoped I wouldn't run into Spencer today. I couldn't face him. I climbed out of my car after a few more minutes of psyching my self up. I grabbed my bag and headed to the cafe. It was a Friday and Spencer didn't have classes on Fridays. So he would be in his office for most of the day. His office was down the hall to the left from mine. So, I decided I would go to the cafe and grab my daily coffee then head over to the teachers lounge in the main building. I would attend to my meetings with the students for the first half of my day. By the time I would get back to my office Spencer would be gone. Well usually anyway. I grabbed my order and headed towards to lounge.

As I entered the main building I checked my phone to see a few emails. One caught my eye. It was from Spencer. I put my phone away and entered the lounge. I needed to keep my self distracted. I had finished my coffee and had completed my meetings for that day. As I made my way back towards my office I noticed the door was open. "That's weird." I pushed the door and froze. Spencer was sat at my desk. His hands laced together and his face was stoic. "Dr. Reid, what a surprise." He just hummed "Why have you been avoiding me." His tone was sharp and straight to the point. "What?" I tried to laugh it off. "Why. Have you. Been. Avoiding me." He said everything slower this time looked at me.

I stood in place not sure what to say. "Close the door." He was acting different. I had never soon him like this. "I said close the door." This time I did as I was told. "Good girl. So you can listen." My stomach did backflips and a warmth spread across my entire body when he said that. What was happening? He stood from my desk. "Come here." I slowly walked over until I was stood in front of my desk. "Now." He raised his hand and help my chin. "I will ask one more time." He forced my chin up so I was looking him in the eye. "Why are you avoiding me." He peered need into my eyes searching for an answer. "I'm not." He tutted a couple of times. "Now I don't like it when my girl lies to me." I could feel my face changed shades at him calling me 'his girl'.

"I'm not. Why would I lie?" His eyes squinted as he looked down at me. "That's what I want to know." He seemed to be in deep thought for a few seconds. As if he was debating on if he should do what he was going to do next. And from what he said next it looked like he had settled on doing it. "Maybe I could fuck the answer out of you." My eyes widened. They must have shown him some kind of emotion or maybe it was the way my thighs rubbed together. Or my breath caught in my throat. "Oh? You would like that wouldn't you? You want to be fucked in your office?" He guided me around to his side of the desk and placed me in front of him. I could feel his hot breath on my neck as he said, "You want me to bend you over this desk? Take you from behind?" He pulled my hips into him. If I wasn't unbelievably horny before I certainly was now.

"Dr. Reid, What - What's going on with you?" he just chuckled softly. His breath fanned against my ear the feeling sent me over the edge. "Me? Oh nothing, I'm just trying to find out why you won't look me in the eye unless I make you." His grip on my hips tightened. "And I think I've figured it out." I was soaking at this point. The filthy works coming from him was enough to turn me on but now, as I felt his hard on rocking into me just like I had imagined when I was in the shower, I was too far gone to hind what I wanted anymore.

"Dr. R-" He stopped me. "Sir. Call me Sir." He gripped my neck with one hand. "Do you understand?" I nodded. "Use your words Beautiful." His grip on my neck softened allowing me to speak. "Yes Sir." He hummed in approval. "Good Girl." He kissed the spot just under my ear. I let out a subtle moan. "Am I right? Is this what you wanted? Is this what you would fantasize about? Why you want look my in the eye?" All I could do was nod, I knew my voice would betray me. But he didn't care. "Use. Your. Words." His grip re-tightened on my throat with each word. "Yes sir." He pulled me away from my desk and spun me to face my bookcase. He still stood behind me.

"Tell me. Tell me what you want." His voice was soft. Yet it was almost condescending. "I - I want to kiss you. Please." He turned me slowly so I was now facing him. His eyes hooded. His lips parted ever so slightly. He help my face between his hands and tilted it up. "You want me to kiss you?" His voice was just above a whisper. "Yes sir. please." He started leaning in. "Well, since you asked so nicely." His lips crashed into mine. The kiss was hungry. He was devouring me. It was as though we both needed this as much as each other. I was lost in his scent. His arms around me, and his hands holding, touching every inch of me. His heavy breaths between the kissing was music to my ears. I didn't want this to end. But it did.

He pulled away. His forehead rested on mine his short breaths turning into panting. "Come here baby." He guided my back to my desk and sat me on top of it. "I need to tase you. Is that ok baby?" I was about to nod but I knew that he would want me to use my words. "Yes sir, I would like that." That's all he needed. He moved my skirt so it was sitting bunched up at my waist and proceeded to spread my legs. He then just stared at me. Taking the sight in his breathing labored. He started to kneel down in front of me. Leaving light feathered kisses on both of my inner thighs. "Sir, please." I needed him. He was like a drug and I was already addicted.

He didn't say anything. He just continued teasing me. He was inching closer to where I really wanted him. He breathed over my underwear. His hot breath made my senses sky rocket. He reached a hand towards me. He started to slowly work on rubbing my clit. The pressure was light. So light that it was almost non-existent. But the slight pressure was sending me down a spiral. I still couldn't believe what was happening. I blinked a few times trying to wake up. This must be a dream I thought. But no. This was real. It was actually happening.

A gasp left me as the pressure became intense. I looked down to see him already staring up at me. His dark eyes gazing deeply into mine. I maintained his gaze not wanting to look away. I let out quiet moans as he kept up his pace. The pace it's self was steady, not fast yet not slow. It was just enough but I wanted more. Before I could ask him to do anything his actions stopped completely. My body was already craving more. "Don't worry baby. I'm not done with you yet." He rose from where he was kneeling and took my panties with him. "I think I'll keep these." He stuffed them into his back pocket. My mind started to imagine what he would do with them.

"Now, hop down from the desk and bend over." I obliged and got off the desk. "Wait." He reached for more shirt and started to unbutton it. "That's much better." He then spun me round and bent me over. "Now then, let's get to it shall we?" I heard him unzip his trousers and let out a breathy moan. "Fuck, you look so good like this. Bent over and obedient. Such a good little slut aren't you?" I could only moan in response as he slipped two fingers into me. He started pumping them and then started curling them.

His fingers were better then I imagined. They filled me up in ways mine couldn't. He was moaning and as I glanced into the mirror next to me I could see why. He was touching himself and my god did he look feral. His hair was wild. His eyes half closed and his hand wrapped around himself. I couldn't stop watching him. And as if he could tell he was being watched his eyes opened and met mine in the mirror. "You like watching me baby?" I nodded my head against the desk. "I like watching you too baby. You look so pretty." He stopped his fingers and put them in front of my face. "Now clean my fingers baby." I didn't say anything I just opened my mouth and allowed him to put his fingers in side. "God, you are perfect. I always knew you would be. Every time I would visit your office or see you at the campus cafe, I just knew that you would be a good obedient girl for me." He removed his fingers and positioned himself behind me.

"Are you ready for me to fuck you?" He leaned in so he was closer to my face. "Yes Spencer." He delivered a swift smack to my ass. "You didn't say sir. But I'll let it slide this time." He stood straight again and got into place. "Ok baby, I'm going to fuck you now." Before I could say anything in response he plunged into me in one swift move. Jesus Christ. He was big. Bigger than I thought he would be. He was touching every part of inside me. He started his thrust slowly yet firmly. His hips met my ass with a snap. I was a mess at this point. My moans were getting louder. Spencer put his hand over my mouth to keep my quiet. "You need to be quiet or someone might walk in. Unless you want that. Do you? Do you want to get caught? You want someone to see you bent over your desk being fucked like a cheap whore?"

The only response from me was a muffled "No sir." Spencer just kept fucking me. His movements getting faster and rougher. My desk started to shake in time with his thrusts. My hands griped the edges. My eyes were rolling into the back of my head. Spencer's heavy breathing was driving me crazy. I couldn't keep a straight train of thought. "Fuck baby, you feel so good. I'm going to need to stop soon. Where should I finish huh? In your mouth? On your back? Where baby?" He removed his hand from my mouth so I could answer him. "In - In my mouth please sir." He started to thrust faster until his movements became sloppy.

"Fuck baby, you close?" I nodded fast trying to get my point across without making noise. "Ok baby finish for me. Be a good girl and finish." His words of encouragement send me over the edge. My body convulsed as the overwhelming wave of pleasure hit me. "My god I didn't know you could get tighter. Fuck!" He pulled out and dragged me to my knees. "Open wide for me baby." I opened up my mouth and took him in as much as I could. He started to thrust into my mouth, his thrusts sloppy as he neared his own orgasm. After a few more cusses coming from him he let out a long groan and I tasted his release on my tongue. I swallowed it.

He collapsed into my chair and pulled me into his lap. "You did so good." He stroked my hair and nestled his face in my neck. His breathing was starting to regulate and his heartbeat was starting to become steady. He moved his head away from my neck at looked at me. "I was right wasn't I? You were avoiding me." I looked him in the eye. "Yes. I was. But it's not because of anything you did." He frowned. "Then why?" I started to blush as the embarrassment set in. "I was starting to have, um, inappropriate thoughts about you. And I didn't want you to find out." He smirked at me. "Well, look at where that got you. Did I live up to your imagination?" I just laughed. "You did better."

"Good." He helped me get dressed and clean up my desk. "So, will we do this again Dr. Reid?" He looked away from the papers he was sorting out on my desk. "Call me Spencer please. We are far past the formalities aren't we? And Yes. At least I hope so." He walked up to me where I was standing in front of the mirror. He pulled me into his arms and kissed me. "In fact, I want to take you on a date. Tonight maybe?" I was giddy. There was no way this was happening. "I would love that Spencer." I never would have thought this would happen. But I certainly wasn't going to complain. I thought as Spencer kissed me goodbye. Damn I was excited for my date. Who knows what will happen after.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading!

#proffesor reid #spencer reid #criminal minds #reid #matthew gray gubler #oneshot #smut #dr reid #fanfic

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