kryoz x reader

Normal Job: p.1

He groaned and threw his head back, letting it thud against the cushion of his desk chair. His cubicle was small, but it let him roll back a little bit. There wasn't room for much more, though. His desktop computer and small, but efficient keyboard fit neatly into the nook of his desk, which was nestled into the cubicle, just like everyone else's. However, John did his best to make his cubicle less... Boring. He added small pictures of beach scenery, or fields of flowers all over the cork-like walls, and doodled on sticky notes to keep himself occupied.

Sometimes he even dabbled in Photoshop. But none of it was ever serious, it was just an attempt to make his clean, tidy, office job, less like an office job.

Rebecca peeked her head around the cubicle wall at John. "Hey, good morning dear! I didn't even hear you come in!"

"Oh. Good morning, 'Becca, how was your potluck?" He absentmindedly tapped a pen on his desk, waiting for his unenthusiastic response to trigger Rebecca Sivorsky's long ramble.

She smiled. "It was great! My granddaughter, Antoinette, brought the sweetest rhubarb pie, and Cousin Michael had his son with him."

"Oh, the five year old?" He asked, sitting a little straighter.

"No, the newborn! Anyway, John, it was such a good time, I even brought back some macaroni and cheese for you, dear," the old woman said, holding a container out to him, shakily.

"Aww, Rebecca, you didn't have to," he said, needing to lean out of his chair to take it from the small, frail woman.

She smiled again, her yellowing teeth hidden by thin lips coated in rose-red lip gloss she claimed her best friend had gotten her for her birthday last year. Once their other block-mate, Cynthia, had taken her place in her cubicle, Rebecca swiveled her desk chair and talked to Cynthia for a while.

Cynthia was a tall, blonde woman, but she was in her mid-forties, and her hair was already thinning. She was almost always in an awful mood, and hated talking about anything but office gossip, which there wasn't much of.

John swiveled back around and faced his computer again. "Damn!" He whispered, as he slammed his toe on his desk leg.

"John! Language!"

John shook his head. "Sorry, Dennis."

The floor manager, Dennis, was a hardass, and liked to make sure that the language on the floor stayed tame at all times, so that his little, six-year-old daughter, Linzie, could run through at any time. Dennis's wife typically decided that Wednesdays and Fridays were take-Linzie-to-work days, and today just so happened to be a Friday.

The little pigtailed princess came running down the aisle between the cubicles behind her father. "Yeah! John, you gotta watch your lan-gage." It was an absolute wonder that such a monstrous man like Dennis could make a cute, skinny little blonde haired girl. Sometimes, the employees had debates on whether or not Linzie was even his daughter.

"Oh, of course, sorry sweetheart." John smiled and turned around, to find Linzie's tiara lying on the carpet behind his swivel chair. "Oh, Linzie, hon, your crown!"

"My jewels!" She screamed, running back down the aisles to find John, who smiled again and held out the tiara.

She looked at him with wide eyes. "These jewels are cri-stals. Mommy said if I lose them again, she won't get me new ones." Her brown eyes looked like they would burst into tears at any second.

"Well, there's no need to worry about that today, because it's right here!"

Her eyes lit up into a smile, and she held still long enough for John to gently set the tiara in her curly hair, before speeding off again to go find her daddy.

At the end of the work day, John closed out the solitaire tab at the bottom of his computer screen, and grabbed his sunglasses. He stood up, gently pushing his chair back, and pushed it back in once he got up. Rebecca and Cynthia were leaving at the same time, and Rebecca walked with him for a bit, before turning back around to find something she forgot in her desk.

"So, dear," Cynthia muttered, holding onto John's arm for support. "I heard you saved a certain little girl's day today."

"Yes, ma'am, I had to save the royal jewels, or her mommy wasn't going to get her more."

They both smiled, tight-lipped, sad smiles, before walking towards their cars. It seemed like Cynthia didn't ever take the canes her family brought her, so John walked her to her car, and made sure she drove out of the parking lot safely before walking to his own car.

It was nothing glamorous, just a little black car, with windows you had to roll up, and a shift stick. But it had a nice miles-per-gallon rating, and it was nice and cool in the summertime. Besides, John never had anyone in the car, so he could blast music through the burst speakers any time he wanted, or could leave the windshield as dirty as he wanted, without complaint.

He drove through traffic, down a few blocks, until he was stopped by a traffic light. "Well, the law's the law," he muttered, laughing at his own poorly-made joke, before sighing heavily. He wanted to do something with himself, besides compute numbers and play solitaire all day. He didn't want to eat Rebecca's mac-and-cheese anymore or be Cynthia's cane.

The light switched to green and he gently eased on the gas pedal. His blinker went on, and he turned left. Another quick sigh before the turn into his apartment's parking garage, and a suppressed scream, basically summed up his mental state.

As he climbed out of his car, a woman shrieked to his left. John snapped his head in her direction and ran to her, deciding that his office job wasn't worth his time. Being a little girl's tiara-finder wasn't what interested him, and stubbing his toe every morning wasn't interesting either.

Whatever was to his left was far better than his normal job. It had to be.

(thank you @deadmagenta for helping me fix this into a somewhat readable story)