#SOMEONE ASK ME ABOUT THESE GUYS . i need to explain this to someone who knows nothing about megathrust

[darkmatilda]

the executioner

a little insight into the creative process, some encouragement, and a way to apologize for not posting anything <33

glasses s 2!spencer reid x podcast host female! reader

“We’ve worked cases where the murders were carried out execution-style before,” Hotch pointed out. “In those situations, the offender believes the victims are somehow guilty morally or socially and that's his duty to deliver justice. The use of electricity as a murder weapon is what sets this one apart. We need to go there and—”

“JJ, JJ, JJ my sweet girl, did you mention the podcast like I asked?” Penelope’s voice suddenly came from the laptop, usually silent or absent when it came to discussing the gruesome details of a case. The woman inhaled sharply, realizing she had interrupted Hotch’s sentence. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Garcia, I’m not sure—” JJ began.

“What podcast?” Spencer asked.

That question seemed to seal something, caused silence to fall over the room, and focused everyone’s attention on the two of them, the ones who knew something the rest didn’t. And something JJ didn’t seem particularly eager to share.

“Wonderful that you ask,” Garcia replied enthusiastically, her tone taking on that same excited note as when she talked about her favorite game. She caught herself slightly, just enough to underline that she was now speaking with seriousness and conviction. “So, my favorite true crime podcast…”

“Wait, wait,” Morgan cut in with a slow, halting motion of his hand. “Sorry to interrupt you, but tell me, babygirl, since when do you listen to true crime podcasts?”

“Oh, you’d have to listen to this one to understand! It’s not that typical i’m a man with a deep voice and I’ll lower it even more while adding door creaking sounds in the background so you’ll pee your pants listening to it at night kind of podcast,” Penelope, of course, demonstrated exactly what she meant.

Spencer glanced at Gideon’s face when she did that. He noticed Elle did the same.

“It’s called Rotten Cherry.This girl is so fun and she adds tons of her own commentary while still being respectful toward the victims and, well, significantly less toward the murderers but that’s not the point, I’m not giving her free promotion right now…actually, no, I am! Because guys, she lives in the town where this is happening, so she’s there, reporting on everything, talking to the locals…”

“Garcia, you’re seriously suggesting we use some amateur podcast as our source of information?” Spencer asked skeptically, absolutely not believing it could be useful to them in any way. No matter how fun that girl was.

“She’s not recording some kind of bullshit, she actually takes this seriously and professionally! And not as a main source of information, just something worth checking out. You know how small communities work. Nobody wants to talk, especially not to outsiders. But she actually managed to talk to one of the victim’s sisters, she’s working hard to gather information about them and, you know, honor them in some way and that really could be helpful. I mean, you always look into the victims’ histories and families anyway, trying to get to the unsub,” Penelope explained in a defensive tone.

A moment of silence fell, during which Spencer’s eyebrows remained doubtfully raised.

Until he felt Hotch’s sharp gaze fixed on him from across the table.

He understood what it meant almost instantly, and was already opening his mouth to protest — but got cut off.

“Reid, you’ll listen to it and let us know if there’s anything useful for the investigation. In the meantime, we’ll meet on the jet in fifteen minutes. That’s all.”

As everyone got up to leave the room, Spencer stayed behind for a brief moment, sighing with his eyes closed. He could go through hundreds of pages of case files four times faster than the rest of the team, and it wasn’t nearly as exhausting for him — but listening? And not even dry facts, but information gathered by someone else, presented in a humorous way on top of that?

Hell no.

With that approach, Spencer set about what he considered a sisyphean task, already on board the jet. Because he couldn’t refuse just because he had a feeling it wouldn’t lead them anywhere. He hoped someone would offer to take on the task instead of him, but after they saw his reluctance, their sadistic tendencies toward him kicked in and no one made him such an offer.

Away from the rest, without enthusiasm, he put the headphones on. Garcia had sent him a link to episodes related to the case they had just started working on; unlike others discussing, for example, killers like Jeffrey Dahmer, these focused on local murders and were short, somewhat like brief news updates. Apparently, the host girl posted many of her thoughts on the matter on a blog closely tied to the podcast, but he decided to check that out later.

“Can’t believe I’m saying this, guys,” the podcast began in a clear, pure female voice. Spencer immediately liked her flawless diction but was a bit surprised by how she started the episode with no introduction or greeting.

“But in today’s episode, we’re heading to a picturesque place in northern Vermont where the church is right across from McDonald’s, in case the guilt after your seventh burger this week pushes you all the way to the confessional and the most exciting event of the summer season is a festival with a contest for the best apple pie. Let’s not forget that everyone here knows not only you, your family up to five generations back, and your kindergarten friend, but also knows what you’re going to do even before you think about it yourself. And don’t even get me started on how fast rumors spread. Welcome to Fairview, the town I had the pleasure—or not—to be born in and suffer in, I mean, be raised in for over twenty years. And where a murder happened. Oh, I feel guilty now for all those times I prayed for something interesting to happen here, obviously, I didn’t mean that…”

[peasack]

Oooh I just had an idea! So what about reader is doing a project in school about someone they look up to and who inspires them

THIS IS SO CUTE OMG-OKAY.

Thunderbolts x Gn!Teen!Reader

✦ Thunderbolts Reacting To You Making a Project About Them Headcanons ✦

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

✦ John Walker

Shocked.

Like actually freezes.

“You sure about that?” comes out of his mouth immediately, completely reflex.

He’s so used to people looking down on him, hating him. It physically does not compute that someone looks up to him. Especially you.

Acts all casual like, “Yeah, well, I guess I’m pretty cool, huh?”

But this man’s heart is doing cartwheels.

He’d help you with the project like he’s so serious about it. Offers to do interviews, find old photos, even explains his biggest mistakes because he wants you to know the full story.

Shows up to school when you present it. Doesn't say anything, just sits in the back. When you’re done, he claps first. The loudest.

✦ Bob Reynolds

Blushes. Immediately.

“Me? Really?”

He’s nervous. He genuinely doesn’t think he deserves it. He’s got this deep shame about the Void, about his past, but the fact that you chose him...

It means everything to him.

He’s soft about it. Super sweet. Offers to help but also double-checks like, “Are you sure? Like, really sure?”

When he realizes you genuinely admire him, he just melts. Will sit with you for hours if you need help researching or writing it.

Gets awkward when you compliment him but smiles quietly the whole time.

Afterwards, he buys you your favorite snack but plays it off like, “Oh, I just happened to have an extra.”

✦ Yelena Belova

“Good taste.”

Deadpan. But she’s proud.

She pretends it’s no big deal but immediately starts bragging to the others. “Obviously I am the best choice.”

Makes sure you know all her coolest moments. “Do not forget to put in the part where I singlehandedly took down seven guys in Prague. Very important.”

But secretly she’s touched. Like, you could’ve picked anyone and you picked her.

Lowkey gets super protective of you after that. If you ever get bullied she’s on it faster than anyone.

Wants to see your presentation and critiques it like a Russian auntie. “This is good. But you could say I am more awesome here.”

✦ Ava Starr

Stunned.

Legitimately goes silent for like thirty seconds.

She’s always seen herself as someone broken, someone dangerous, but you see her as someone to look up to? It completely floors her.

"You... you look up to me?" she asks, almost like she's expecting you to take it back.

She’s weirdly shy about it but super helpful. She opens up more than she usually would because she wants to help you get it right.

She won’t show it, but she’s deeply moved. She keeps the printed version of your project after it’s done.

Quietly checks in on you more after that, more present, more protective.

✦ Alexei Shostakov

OH THIS MAN IS OVER THE MOON.

“I AM HERO! OF COURSE YOU CHOOSE ME!”

Dramatic dad energy. He’s fully leaning into it. Brags to the others every five minutes. “Ah, John, you see? Someone recognizes greatness!”

Will try to “help” you but ends up talking your ear off with ridiculous, half-true stories.

Will force you to put in at least one of his “legendary” fights.

Shows up at your school presentation in full-on loud dad mode. May or may not bring a little Russian flag to wave in the back.

Cries a little after. Denies it forever.

“It is allergies. Maybe someone brought...uh...onions to school.”

✦ Bucky Barnes

Completely caught off guard.

“Why me?”

And you’re like, “Because you’re strong, you’ve been through a lot, and you’re still standing.”

He just quietly nods, like he’s processing it but doesn’t know what to say.

Helps you with the project but keeps saying, “You don’t have to sugarcoat things. Just write the truth.”

He’s proud. Quietly proud. Shows up at your school even though he hates public places, just for you.

The moment he hears you talk about him like he’s a hero, something softens in him.

You catch him smiling at you like he’s seeing himself differently for the first time.

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

AAA THIS WAS THE CUTEST EVERRRRR UGHHHHHHHHHH

Hope yall enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing this, LOVE YALLLL<333

[thewayilikemycookie]

📞┆Too Busy Being Yours .ᐟ

Spencer Agnew x gn!reader

Summary: When you are feeling overwhelmed, Spencer is there to comfort you in every way he can.

Word count: 684

You could count with your fingers the amount of times you’ve zoned out during this video alone. It was a ‘don’t win Mario party’ scheduled at the end of the shoot day and you were sitting next to Spencer and Chance, who were both bringing the energy for this video.

“Hold” Alex called “Scott needs to fix an issue with your mic, Chance, can you come over here? And you guys can take five.”

Spencer instantly tuned to face you “You okay?” He asked with sympathetic eyes

You looked at his concerned expression and tried to speak your feelings, but no words came out. You decided to simply bury you head in the crook of his neck and reach for his hands. You felt as if he understood your thoughts immediately, shifting his position to comfort you.

You felt him place a soft kiss on your head. And though you were eternally grateful for his sweetness and wanted to thank him, you couldn’t even formulate a coherent sentence at the moment.

“You got this” He whispered and the tenderness of it all made you look up

“I love you so much” you said

“I love you more” He softly smiled and laid a final kiss to your forehead

You managed to survive the rest of the video, getting second place overall, profusely thanking Shayne for getting first, as you dreaded the idea of wearing the cone for the next one.

After you took your mic off, you walked towards Spencer “When are you leaving?” You asked

“I gotta fill out a few requests for the art department” You frowned at his answer “why?” “Cause I want you to come home with me” you frowned, reaching for his hand

“I’m sorry baby,” tucked in a strand of your hair “but their deadline is today”

“Can I wait for you then?” You asked

“You’re welcome to,” he smiled “but I would feel a little guilty to be the one to keep you waiting”

“I would wait until eternity for you, Spencer Agnew”

You laid down on the games pod couch while you waited for him, using the time to read your book. After Spencer was done, you both made your way to his apartment and he did everything he could for you. He ordered your favorite food for you, landed you makeshift pj’s for when you’re done with your shower and put on a cooking competition show, knowing you loved them.

Now, you were curled up on the couch right next to him, wearing one of his hoodies (which you suspected he chose because he likes seeing you in his clothes) and eating your favorite food.

“isn’t it crazy how you’re always joking about being misogynistic but then you do all of this for me”

“It’s just a joke though, I would never treat a woman like that, specially you” He looked over at you with a smile

“I know. You’re one of the good ones,” you smiled back at him “the best.”

“Isn’t that the bare minimum?” He laughed

“treating someone well, yes,” you explained “but ordering their favorite food and watching their favorite show, I don’t think so”

Spencer nodded, but he didn’t agree with you exactly. In his mind, he would do all of it and more without any hesitation if it means you would feel at least a little better. If he loved someone, he would make sure to show them that through every single way he could.

When he noticed you were starting to drift off, Spencer asked you if you wanted to go to sleep, to which you said yes. You tried helping with the dishes, but he told you not to worry.

So you got into bed with Spencer holding you tightly and started to drift off again. After you fell asleep, he kissed your head once again. If he felt like you needed it, he would do it all over again tomorrow, then the next day, then the day after.

Maybe it was a little surrealistic, but he was too busy being yours to care.

A.n: Inspired by Hozier’s cover of “Do I wanna know?”. Also I’m sleepy so idk if this is good, hope you have/had a good day, love ya!! <3

[blue-eye-samurai-analysis]

When Taigen finds out Mizu is a woman...

Many people believe he will be angry at Mizu. But I think they are wrong.

It’s MIZU who will get really, really angry. Her outburst will soften Taigen’s own reaction and help him understand what Mizu was going through all this time.  

Ever since season one ended, there have been speculations about Taigen’s possible reaction to Mizu’s sex reveal. People keep saying that Taigen is a direct guy, an immature person and a huge drama queen, so he has to get angry at Mizu when he learns the truth about her sex. But my own personal opinion is that he won’t. Instead he’ll get angry at himself and here’s why:

Yeah, all these things are true: Taigen IS quite direct, he IS immature and he IS a huge drama queen. But he also possess natural gentleness towards women (check my post about his “sweetness”) and despite being a bully in his childhood, he knows how to be compassionate (check my post about Taigen’s “duality”). And, most of all, he considers himself an honorable person and he is determined to act like a true samurai.

Guess what’s forbidden by the samurai code of honor? Hitting women. In Japanese society of Edo Period women and children were considered the vulnerable ones and samurai were expected to protect them. So imagine the potential consequences of hitting a woman for someone like Taigen.

Do you see where I’m getting here?  

Having those things in mind, we also need to take a third factor into consideration: Mizu’s reaction to Taigen finding out about her.  

Because if you assume that she’ll act like Mulan, clumsily explaining herself with tail between her legs, then you haven’t been paying attention to the show.

If you DID watch the show closely, Mizu’s reaction is going to be quite easy to predict.

When Mikio saw Mizu’s masculine side, he called her a monster. When Master Eiji learned that Mizu hid “something” from him, he refused to listen, choosing to remain “blind” not only literally but also metaphorically. Although it’s quite obvious that he knows, because if he didn’t, why would he deliberately use the words “boy” and “man” – and Mizu is extremely perceptive about how people choose their words (proven by her conversation with Heiji Shindo), so she must know that Swordfather knows, and they keep playing their little game of pretending.

(Why Master Eiji wants to keep Mizu’s sex a taboo is a story for another post)

And Taigen?

Taigen is a proud samurai, whose fiancé was Akemi, the very embodiment of traditional Japanese femininity (at least at first glance).

So, what is Mizu going to expect from Taigen when he learns about her? The absolute worst!  

She’s going to assume the worst, and because she’s a natural warrior who never backed down from the challenge, especially involving Taigen, she’ll immediately go into the offensive. I can see it clearly: Mizu losing her shit, openly provoking Taigen to go on, call me a monster again, this is who I am, you’ve always said it, so why stay quiet now?!

Perhaps there will even be some physical violence, Mizu will get feral like a cornered animal, because that’s how she will feel at the moment.  I think her intention will be to just make Taigen say whatever insult he has in mind, to just get it over with.  

BUT…

That kind of behavior will allow Taigen to see her vulnerable side. And I believe that’s something he really wants to see, because he is eager to know Mizu, to learn more about her, and – most importantly – he wants to see her without her mask.

Just look at episode three:

In one of my previous post, I mention how Taigen makes an important decision to act honorably and NOT to kill Mizu when she’s unconscious. Right after he sheathes his sword, he kneels next to his rival but not to immediately examine the wound (which would be logical course of action) but just to STARE. As if he was asking himself: okay, if you’re not a cold blooded monster, then WHO are you?

And he’s trying to find out through the entire episode three. EVERYTHING he does in this episode is an attempt to get some sort of reaction from Mizu. He wants to crack her shell, because the only face Mizu showed him until now was of a cocky swordsman, who was pretty good at controlling her emotions, and only losing her cool to some extent (like when Taigen called her a dog and she cut his topknot).

The whole point of throwing insults at Mizu during the Chopsticks Fight is to get a REACTION from her. Taigen wants to make her angry on purpose and even though he loses the fight itself, he gets what he wants, because Mizu is pissed and hits him really hard. That’s why he’s smirking when it’s over.

And later there are those awkward attempts to have a conversation. Taigen is quoting the Lotus Sutra and immediately glances at Mizu, as if wanting to say “I studied sutras in the dojo, did you study them too?” Then he talks about his abusive father and tries to push Mizu to reveal something about herself.

But she keeps her cool and even though you can say she’s listening very carefully, she keeps silent.

Actually, when you think about it, Mizu isn’t very talkative and I think it irks Taigen - partly because HE is very talkative, but also because he’s genuinely curious about his rival. Ever since they were children Mizu NEVER said anything while being bullied – whenever she got insulted, she reacted through actions but never words. And she continues to do it in her adult life. I think it makes Taigen even more intrigued, so he really, really wants her to break, to reveal her true feelings.

The closest he gets to seeing a “glimpse” of vulnerable Mizu is only twice in the whole show. First time is when she coldly tells him “I remember Kohama”, which in this context means: “Yeah, I didn’t forget how you bullied me.”

Second one is when Taigen brings her the dumplings and she mutters “I’ve never tried them. Remember? I was just a dog who ate gutter scraps.” Which in this case means: “yeah, being rejected by people and being hungry actually hurt me, I do have feelings”. And she calls herself a dog – the very same insult Taigen always used. She's disappointed in herself, acting all defeated and resigned, there are cracks in her armor, and you can tell it really gets to Taigen, so he immediately tries to "pick up the pieces of her soul" (symbolized by her sword in this scene), to somehow help her get up.

So Taigen sees two metaphorical “drops” of water (Mizu). But they are only drops. Now imagine yourself poking a hole in the rock, and they are tiny droplets of water coming from it, so you get irritated. But then, there is a huge secret revealed, it’s like a bomb, so the rock crumbles all at once and there is this huge tsunami of emotions coming out. It must be shocking and unexpected!  

So my guess is that Taigen will be shaken by the discovery that Mizu is a woman, but not because he will feel angry or betrayed, but because he will realize that all of his childhood he was bullying a little girl (I expect another flashback of little Mizu staring at him with those big scared eyes).

And he will be extremely disappointed in himself.  He will become aware of Mizu’s self-hatred and it will shock him. He will finally realize how much emotions she was suppressing till now and it will crush him.  The realization will hit him that it’s partly because of HIM that Mizu grew up to be tough and cold, suppressing her sweet and gentle side.

Even in season one Taigen already KNOWS Mizu is capable of being gentle and sweet, and he was in awe both times he saw it (first after their friendly spar, second when she begged him not to follow her and Fowler). I think season two will deliver more of Mizu’s gentleness and that will make discovering her secret by Taigen even more painful.

So, Taigen will be disappointed of himself and it will show on his face, but Mizu will interpret it as a rejection and will lash out at him, forcing him to defend himself, verbally and (possibly) physically, which he will probably do rather clumsily, because he won’t be sure how to handle all of this shit and he doesn’t really want to hit A WOMAN, but that will rile up Mizu even more. Taigen may try to calm Mizu down, but being an idiot he will probably do so through yelling back.

Anyway, after the fight ends, Mizu might want to distance herself from Taigen like she tried to do with Ringo at the beginning of the series. So, ultimately, it won’t be Mizu who will have to explain herself and work hard to win Taigen’s trust back. It will be Taigen who will have to prove that he accepts Mizu as she is and therefore deserves her trust.

I don’t see it happening in any other way.

And seriously, if the creators decide to pull “Mulan shit” and present Mizu as the one who was in the wrong for hiding her true sex, I will be very disappointed.  Because, hell, she WASN’T in the wrong – she didn’t become a boy because of ambition or any selfish reasons. It’s the truth that she CONTINUES to live as a man for her vengeance quest, but that’s not how it had started. Mizu’s mama forced her to become a boy and Mizu even made an attempt to live as woman.

Also, putting aside all of this, she still has a bounty on her head as a woman! She really has nothing to apologize for. Not even for not trusting Taigen and not telling him the truth, because what kind of person would in her situation?   

Bonus theory:

How will the reveal happen? I think Fowler will tell Taigen, because him doing so would create such a perfect drama.

Imagine this: Taigen and Mizu go to London, Fowler escapes at some point, they eventually corner him (I imagine it happening somewhere at the end of season two) and Fowler teases Taigen with words like: You follow your WOMAN everywhere.

Taigen is confused, and there’s more teasing: Wait, you didn’t know? I was sure you were f*cking her!

It would be just TOO good. And imagine how difficult the fight would become, with Taigen distracted with this shocking discovery and not having the time to process anything. Just too good.  

And I can easily image a conversation that would occur afterwards.

Mizu (angrily): You’re disgusted with me! Don’t pretend you’re not!

Taigen: (yelling) I’m not disgusted with YOU, I’m disgusted with myself. All my childhood I was bullying A GIRL. Do you know what it means to me? To my HONOR?!

Mizu: You think those stones you threw at me would hurt LESS if I had a dick? How is attacking a girl with five other brats MORE DISHONORABLE than attacking a boy with five other brats?

And they will quarrel like that, with Mizu expressing her self-hatred and probably also – for the very first time – openly expressing her true feelings about being bullied in childhood, and Taigen trying to explain himself.

And, like I mentioned before, I think that at some point Taigen will notice that Mizu is hurt, seriously hurt, he will acknowledge her suffering and his own role in it, and it will calm him down. I imagine Taigen becoming gradually more and more quiet, watching Mizu intently, while Mizu continues to yell at him.

I imagine it happening in the rain, so it would be hard to tell whether Mizu is crying or not.

I also kind of hope Taigen will kiss her just to shut her up, although realistically I think it would be much too soon for something like this to happen right after the sex discovery. So my guess is that the reveal will happen in season two (in the last episode or the one before last), while taimizu will begin in season three.  

[lullxby]

.✦ LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT (j.m.)

IN WHICH… jj sees princess for the first time and is immediately intrigued

W. C. : .6k

PAIRING : jj maybank x princess!reader

WARNING(S) : none, no ‘y/n’ use!

| OBX MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION |

JJ Maybank didn’t want to be stuck here, moving baby turtles out of the path of Topper Thornton’s car. What was more important to him than keeping turtles safe, was keeping himself and Kiara safe.

Clearly, the girl beside him didn’t share the same priorities, but who was he to say no to one of his bestfriends? He was loyal to a fault. So, he did as she said, moving the baby turtles safely out of the way of impending doom, otherwise known as getting crushed by a tire.

Finally, when the last of the little animals were safe, he turned back to Topper. However, something, or someone behind him caught his eye more. A girl, dressed in pink and white and lace all over, wearing pink sneakers and gold jewelry that looked like they costed more money than he’d ever seen in his life.

He tried to ignore it, assuming it was one of those mirages Pope had mentioned. He hadn’t been drinking much water lately, after all. He walked back over to his friends, nudging John B. in the side.

“You see that girl too?”

“The one in blue?”

“No, idiot, the one decked out in fuckin’ rhinestone shit or somethin’” He gestured wildly to the girl, then eventually just grabbed his friend’s head and turned it in the right direction.

“Oh, yeah. She’s pretty.” Was that all John B. had to say about it? No way.

JJ shook his head, his face screwing up in confusion.

“Pretty? She’s fuckin’— Pope, what’s that word with the E that means hot?”

“Ethereal,” he responded without even looking up.

JJ nodded, pointing. “Exactly. She’s that. Ethereal. Like— fuckin’ out of this world. Literally, she doesn’t belong here, look at her.”

Sarah sat up, curious at what the boy was losing his mind over. Her eyes roamed the beach before settling on the girl in pink.

“No way, I think that’s that girl from the royal family, the one that got in trouble for something,” She chimed in, moving her sunglasses to the top of her head to get a better look.

All three of the boy’s heads turned in synch, their faces mirroring each others’ looks of confusion.

“Haven’t you seen it on the news?”

“Forget who you’re talking to?” JJ asked sarcastically, to which Sarah just nodded, beginning to explain the whole situation.

“— so now she’s here, I guess.”

JJ was already fixing himself up. He pressed two of his fingers to his tongue, using them to smooth his brows. He was mumbling something like “I’m gonna go for it. She’s gonna love me. What’s that thing about girls wanting to fix guys? I need to be fixed.”

“JJ, she’s a legit princess, I don’t think you’re her type,” Pope snickered.

JJ just shrugged, starting to walk over to the girl. Until, of course, John B. reached out and grabbed the back of his ratty t-shirt, halting his movements.

“Slow your roll, Casanova. You can’t just— ‘hit it and quit it’ with this girl. There’s probably like, laws against that.”

“It’ll be fine, I won’t do that this time,” He affirmed, trying to walk back towards the mystery girl.

John B. argued against it, his grip on the blonde’s shirt tightening. It eventually led to bickering, which just ended in JJ huffing and sitting back down in one of the outstretched lawn chairs they had brought.

He looked back to her. Was she looking at him? It was hard to tell. He hoped so.

Either way, he knew he wasn’t going to let it end here. He’d get to know you, if it was the last thing he did.

obx taglist : lmk 2 be added!

[writingdarling]

HUII I WAS THE ANON WHO SAJD UR FICS ARE SO GOODD!!, could you do a killer chat Li x reader who is absolutely FREAKY. Like if you say something around them they’ll make it sound freaky 💔💔

BROOO HAHAHAH THIS IS SO FUNNY LIKE

ALSO YAY THANKS FOR THE COMPLIMENT THE OTHER DAYY RAHHH

Anyways, I got possessed by a freaky ghost while writing this so

Content Warnings: NSFW, Mentions of Violence, Threats of Violence, Violence

Even though they're just jokes, the nsfw warning still applies

Killer Chat L.I’s x Freaky!Reader

Ronin

Besides Misaki, I think he’d be the one that matches your freak the most 

Like, you say something borderline criminal, he’s crossing that border and making whatever you said sound even more diabolical

Like in the literal sense, what you say is freaky and what he says is psychopathic 

Angelic: I need to shoot some videos then I’ll get a load of laundry done, then I’ll be free for mafia !

Mc: I could be shooting some loads myself ;)

goreboy: I shot a man today with my loaded gun

Everyone else on the serve are SICK of you two

V complains about borderline sexual harassment after you ask him how exactly he plans to “pin Ronin down” and whether you’d be invited to that particular event

Angel threatens to mute the both of you if someone types the word “kinky” again

Ronin actually genuinely loves seeing the reactions you cause whenever you open your mouth

It’s so funny to him, the way you can make someone grimace, with their own words

“My dirty mouthed angel~”

“Oh I can definitely show you how dirty my mouth can get-”

He squeezes you so hard you feel like you’re about to pop

“We’re 50 minutes away from my or your apartments, do not make me snap here darlin’.”

Though, his favourite lines from you are the ones where you just, says stuff so nonchalantly, like you aren’t making every head in your 5 feet vicinity whip towards you

“Oh my god, they have stuffed crusts here Ro ! I’d love to stuff you.”

Ronin chokes on his drink, the waiter is stunned, the couple next to you are staring at you both so hard their eyes look like they're popping out of their head

Ronin now brings around duct tape and threatens you by waving it around in your face if you get too out of hand

“....Sorry Ro, not really into gagging you know-”

“I should’ve stabbed you in Purgatory.”

“...I see so you wanted to insert something into my body even before we started dating, you’re such a perv-”

You drive him insane but he loves it

Angel

First time she ever hears something freaky come out of your mouth is when she just happens to send you a picture of her outfit of the day

The message you send back ? Scandalous

You’ve flustered her so bad, she can’t even go out

Once you explain to her that, yes it was kind of a joke but also yes she looks incredibly hot, Angel starts to understand more

You are in fact the reason why she nuked the executioner bot again, because Ronin kept recording your freaky sentences and used them to taunt her

Angelic: Sorry guys, can’t join call cause I’m headed to a meeting 🙁

Executioner: I can get you to relax realll fast

Angelic: Ronin I’ll blow your damn brains out

Mc: Oh I can see you blowing something alright

Of course, due to her past in the content industry, you ask her to tell you if your jokes ever go too far, and she usually assures you to not worry

Her personal favorites are when your jokes are wildly inappropriate for the situation

hitmeupp: GUYS I”M GETTING CHASED BY A FUCKING GOOSE 

Mc: Who is the goose fucking

She loves that, so much

Drives Angel to tears 

Angel rarely ever tries to match your freak but when she does she goes insanely hard

“You’re only inviting me over to your house so we can make out Maria De La Rosa.”

“Even if I am, you’ll love it cause you’re a-”

“WOAH WOAH-”

It probably catches you off guard every time

You have to be careful though cause if you say something particularly risky Angel will be using that against you later on

Misaki

Say it with me now

They will absolutely match your freak 

You say a dirty joke ? They’re already adding onto it, with a flirty wink sent your way that has you giggling

Misaki probably doesn’t even have to wait for you to say it, they make the joke first if you don't type it fast enough

K9: I will cherish the day I pierce your heart Butcher

hitmeuppp: You sure you wanna pierce his heart and not something else V ?

Mc: Damnit I was gonna type that

No one is safe (well Vince and Ai Hua are but that doesn’t count)

Ronin posts about how he stabbed a victim over and over again ? You talk about  how sexy it was for him to penetrate someone over and over again (“I regret inviting you to the fucking server)

Luca whining about how rough the waves were today ? Misaki asks him if the waves gave him aftercare (“.....Dude.”)

You’re menaces to the servers peace

Misaki talks the talk but in private, everytime you make a freaky joke and even hint towards something more, they’re on the other side of the screen giggling and kicking her feet

“Oh my god- Stop, stop I’m dying over here.”

You once made a joke about how “submissive and breedable” one of her targets were because of how they begged for Misaki’s mercy and they quote it on the daily

If you say these thing in real life, they slamming her hand against your mouth at the speed of light

“OH KAY, maybe we shouldn’t joke about sex positions in public, how ‘bout that ?”

“This is technically a sex position too-”

There have in fact times you’d been kicked out of cafes due to your “explicit” behaviour (you say whatever weird thing you say and Misaki repeats it but louder and more scandalised) 0

If Misaki is feeling particularly brave, they’ll probably try and flirt back harder

You say something about needing choke down a black coffee every morning 

Misaki replies “ Oh I’ll give you something to choke on.”

Overall a very give and take relationship

Everyone on the server feels like their third wheeling 

V

V is a very literal person so when you do your lil freaky jokes act he is totally stunned into a flustered silence

Man cannot say anything back, he is still ruminating over the implications in his head meanwhile all you said was a lame joke about making out

Everytime you say something dirty in main he’s stressing

Mc: I mean if he wants me to work harder he should get down on all fours and help motivate me like ?

K9: Please…..not here

Acts like a victorian widow seeing your ankles for the first time

Once you two settle into a relationship, your exchanges become so much funnier

“I’m so sorry dearest, but it seems that I cannot find you your pain medication, I will-”

“Oh don’t worry V you can give me relief in another way~”

“.....What way ?”

“.....V.”

“Oh.”

He never really response back in the same way you do, but he definitely flirts back even more sweetly, as if to make up for your more outrageous flirting

“It’s raining V, you know what we should do ?”

“Well, I suppose we could curl up on the couch, I can make your favourite tea and we can watch that rom-com you’ve been wanting to watch. I think we can even throw the blankets into the dryer so they’ll be nice and warm.”

“.....Now I feel bad for even suggesting we go and have sex cause no one will be able to hear us.”

“Well we can do that too but maybe after the movie.”

He uses your own thoughts against you, which he succeeds at most of the time

You mention something about needing someone to shove you against the wall until you finish your work ?

V looks at you for a almost uncomfortable amount of time before looking at the wall and asking whether he’d be a good candidate

You almost die

He supports you when you say weird shit but the minute anyone else joins (ehem, Ronin and Misaki) he tells them to cut it out

You have the partner privilege and he will only tolerate your nonsense

Dear lord this is so dumb but it brought me so much joy while writing it

I hope you like it n that it lived up to ur freaky expectations lmao

[metalmonki]

It's All So Wrong, Yet So So Right Part 3

Cheater!Bobby Nash x Cheater!Reader

2.5k word count

Summary Your a firefighter with the 118. Your engaged to Evan Buckley who you've been madly in love with for 4 years. Life is perfect. That is until a late night in the fire house sees a spark between you and your Captain Bobby Nash who happens to be a married man.

Slow Burn/Fluff/Angst/Cheaters

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Bobby’s P.O.V

I pulled the truck up to the curb outside her building and put it in park. The sun was starting to drop low, casting long shadows across the sidewalk.

Y/N didn’t move right away. She sat there for a second, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.

“Thanks for today,” she said, finally.

I nodded. “Anytime.”

We didn’t hug. We didn’t touch. Not out here. Not with the world watching. But her eyes lingered on mine a little too long.

“I’ll see you at work,” she said.

“Yeah.”

She slipped out of the truck and shut the door gently. I watched her walk up the steps and disappear inside before I let myself exhale.

Then I drove home.

The ride was quiet. Just the low hum of the road and the familiar ache behind my eyes. I turned the radio on and then off again. Nothing sounded right.

By the time I pulled into the driveway, the sky was turning pink. Athena’s cruiser wasn’t there yet. I stood in the garage for a moment, staring at the shelves of tools and spare smoke detectors and paint cans we’d been meaning to sort for months.

Normal things. Domestic things.

I went inside and flipped on a few lights. Set my keys on the counter. Took out chicken to defrost even though I wasn’t hungry.

Habit. Routine.

I didn’t let myself sit. I cleaned the kitchen — not because it was dirty, but because I needed something to do with my hands. Wiped down the sink. Straightened the stack of mail. Folded the throw blanket on the back of the couch.

I tried not to think about Y/N.

I tried to pretend my heart wasn’t still sitting somewhere on a quiet beach outside the city.

The front door opened just after seven. Athena’s boots hit the hardwood like they always did — steady, purposeful.

“Hey,” she called.

“Hey,” I answered from the kitchen. “You hungry?”

She stepped into the room, undoing her jacket. “Starving. Long day. Two domestics, one stolen car, and a guy who tried to rob a gas station with a spatula.”

I smiled like that was new. Like we hadn’t had that same kind of day a hundred times before.

“Chicken should be thawed soon. Thought I’d do something simple.”

She kissed my cheek in passing. Light. Casual. The same way she always did.

I stood there, feeling her warmth fade from my skin, and nodded. “Sounds good.”

She started telling me more about her shift — something about Tracie from dispatch dating the new guy — and I listened. I nodded in all the right places. Laughed when I was supposed to.

I didn’t say a word about where I’d been.

Or who I’d been with.

I didn’t tell her how strange it felt to come home to the woman I’d built a life with, knowing I was already starting to slip out of it — piece by piece.

I didn’t tell her that I’d kissed someone else.

I didn’t tell her that it meant something.

Instead, I set the table. I poured her a glass of water. I asked if she wanted roasted potatoes or rice.

I played the part.

Because that’s what I do. I hold the line. Even when I don’t know if it still matters.

And when Athena sat down across from me and smiled, I smiled back.

Because if I stopped pretending — even for a second — I didn’t know what would be left of me.

The house was quiet.

Athena had turned in early, exhausted from her shift. She’d kissed my cheek again, said goodnight, and was asleep within minutes of her head hitting the pillow.

I lay there beside her, wide awake.

The ceiling was just a blur in the dark, but I stared at it like it had answers. Like it could explain how everything got so tangled.

I turned onto my side. Then onto my back.

Sleep wasn’t coming.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Y/N — sitting across from me at the beach, wind tugging at her hair. The way she looked at me in the truck before she left. The way her voice had gone quiet when she said, “Thanks for today.”

I tried not to think about the kiss.

Failed.

My mind kept drifting — not just to what had happened, but to what could.

I imagined her staying late again. I imagined finding a reason to call her into my office. I imagined her leaning back against the door after closing it behind her, hair still damp from a call, eyes tired and warm.

I thought about excuses. An equipment check. A report she needed help with. A meeting.

God, I hated myself for it.

But the thoughts kept coming.

I rolled over again and stared at the wall. I tried to push it all out. Told myself it was a moment. A mistake. Something we could both step back from.

But I didn’t believe it.

Because the truth was, I didn’t want to step back.

Not really.

Eventually, somewhere between guilt and exhaustion, I drifted off.

…

My phone buzzed against the nightstand just after six.

I blinked, disoriented. Athena was still asleep beside me, breathing slow and steady.

I slipped out of bed quietly and stepped into the hallway before answering.

“Hello?”

“Bobby,” came the familiar voice of Deputy Chief Romero. “Sorry for the early call. Something came up.”

I straightened instinctively. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing urgent. The Firefighter Leadership Convention’s been moved up — next week, Las Vegas. I need a representative from Station 118 to come with me. Someone solid. Trustworthy. Think you can handle that?”

“Of course,” I said automatically.

“You can bring one member of your team. Keep it simple. I’ll email you the details. Appreciate it.”

The call ended as abruptly as it started.

I stood in the hallway, phone still in hand.

Just one person.

Any one of them. Hen, Chim, Eddie, Buck…

But my thoughts didn’t even hesitate.

Y/N.

It was the perfect out. A gift wrapped in protocol and professionalism. One firefighter. One captain. No questions asked.

No Buck. No station. No stolen glances or late-night texts or pretending we were just teammates.

Just the two of us.

Alone.

Away from everything and everyone.

The rush that followed was quiet, but undeniable — like oxygen hitting a low flame.

I could already picture it. Sitting beside her on the flight, seeing her in a hotel lobby instead of a turnout coat, sharing breakfasts and stolen hours that belonged only to us.

We wouldn’t have to pretend. Not for a little while.

I ran a hand over my face, let out a breath — not heavy, not conflicted this time.

This wasn’t hesitation.

This was relief.

And maybe I shouldn’t feel that way. Maybe I should’ve felt guilt.

But all I felt was anticipation.

Because now I had the perfect reason to ask her. And I already knew what her answer would be.

…

Y/N’s P.O.V

The steam from the bathroom mirror hadn’t cleared yet, but I was already pulling my hair back into a low ponytail, trying to ignore how shaky my hands were.

I hadn’t slept much.

Buck, on the other hand, had passed out like he always did — wrapped around the blanket like it owed him money, breathing deep and peaceful like the world didn’t have its foot on his chest. I envied that.

“Do you want coffee now or when we get in?” he called from the kitchen.

“Now, please!” I called back, loud enough to sound normal. Maybe even cheerful.

I checked my reflection one last time before stepping out into the living room. Buck was already halfway through his first mug, scrolling on his phone with one foot braced against the edge of the coffee table.

He looked up when I walked in. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I said quickly. Too quickly. “Just tired. I think I’m still catching up from the last shift.”

He nodded like that made perfect sense, because in his world, it did.

We moved around each other easily, like always — grabbing gear bags, finishing toast, checking phones. It was the kind of morning we’d had a hundred times before.

But I didn’t feel the same. Not after yesterday. Not after Bobby.

The beach. The way he looked at me like he didn’t want to lie anymore. The way I kissed him back.

It hadn’t been impulsive. It hadn’t been confusing.

It had felt inevitable.

And now I had to carry that weight — or maybe that fire — through another shift.

My phone buzzed just as I was pulling on my boots.

I glanced at the screen. One new message. Bobby.

Bobby [7:42 AM]: Can I talk to you before lineup? It’s nothing bad. Just need a quick word.

For a second, my breath caught. Then:

Bobby [7:42 AM]: Got asked to attend a leadership convention in Vegas next week. I get to bring one firefighter with me. I want it to be you.

I stared at the screen for a long moment, heartbeat thudding quietly behind my ribs.

It wasn’t a question. It was a decision.

He wanted time alone. Away. With me.

“Everything okay?” Buck asked, stuffing a granola bar into his bag.

I looked up, smiled — the same one I always gave him. Warm. Easy. Familiar.

“Yeah,” I said. “Just Bobby. Wants to see me before shift starts.”

He nodded, totally unfazed. “Probably about inventory. Or that engine report I still haven’t finished.”

“Probably,” I echoed.

But I knew better.

And for the first time in days, that little ache of guilt… it didn’t outweigh the anticipation.

Vegas. Just me and Bobby.

We wouldn’t have to pretend.

Not there.

The engine bay was quiet when I walked in, boots echoing off the concrete.

Shift hadn’t technically started yet, but the lights were on in Bobby’s office — warm and familiar through the glass like always. I hesitated just outside the door, knuckles raised to knock, already feeling the pull in my chest.

Then I saw him look up. And that was enough.

He stood before I could even tap the door, stepping out into the hallway with his coffee mug in hand like we were just two coworkers catching each other before lineup.

But his eyes said otherwise.

“Morning,” he said, voice low, careful.

“Morning,” I replied, matching his tone. I tucked my hands into the pockets of my hoodie like it might help me feel steadier. It didn’t.

“You got my message?” he asked.

I nodded. “I did.”

He glanced past me toward the kitchen — just for a beat — then back again. “You okay to talk in here?”

I nodded again, and he stepped back, letting me in first. He closed the door quietly behind us, and the moment it latched, something shifted in the air.

It wasn’t that anything happened — no touch, no step closer. But it felt different.

Like we were already somewhere else.

“Vegas?” I asked, keeping my voice neutral.

He smiled — just barely. “Yeah. Firefighter Leadership Convention. Romero needs someone to represent the station with him. He told me to pick one firefighter.”

“And you picked me.”

“I did.”

He said it without hesitation. No explanation. No justification.

Just certainty.

I tried to read his face — the quiet in his expression, the way his eyes softened when he looked at me. He was giving me an out if I wanted it. But he wasn’t pretending.

“You know what this looks like,” I said, finally. “Even if it’s just a work trip.”

He nodded. “I do.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“I don’t think I care what it looks like anymore,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Not when it’s you.”

The words sat heavy in the air between us. Real. Undeniable.

I felt my pulse pick up, my breath catch — not from nerves this time, but something else entirely. Excitement. Want.

And relief.

“I want to go,” I said, simply. “With you.”

His shoulders eased like he’d been holding tension he didn’t even realize. He nodded once. That was all we needed.

Outside the office window, I could see Hen and Chimney walking in from the parking lot, coffee in hand, chatting about something loud and ridiculous.

“We should head out there,” I said, already stepping back.

Bobby looked at me for a beat longer. “Y/N—”

“I know,” I said quietly, hand already on the door handle. “Me too.”

And then we both stepped out.

Captain and firefighter. Nothing more. Not here.

But we both knew Vegas was coming.

The kitchen was already filling up when I walked in. Chim was holding a banana like a microphone, trying to convince Hen that technically he could out-sing her if he tried, and Ravi was eating cereal straight out of the box like he didn’t own a bowl.

Buck was leaning against the counter near the coffee pot, scrolling through something on his phone. When he saw me, he grinned and lifted my travel mug in greeting — already filled the way I liked it.

“You’re welcome,” he said, smug.

“Thanks,” I said, smiling as I took it. I kissed his cheek, quick and light, then turned away before I could feel guilty about it.

Bobby walked in a moment later, clipboard in hand, already in full Captain mode. He glanced at me, just for a beat — nothing obvious — then cleared his throat.

“Before we start shift,” he said, “just a quick announcement. Next week I’ll be attending the Firefighter Leadership Convention in Las Vegas. I’ve been asked to bring one member of the team along for the station rep side of things.”

There was a small murmur of interest from the crew. Hen raised an eyebrow. Chim straightened a little.

“I’ve selected Y/N to come with me,” Bobby continued. “She’s been handling the department’s community engagement reporting and incident data tracking over the past couple months, and the convention will include sessions on inter-agency collaboration, outreach, and tactical leadership.”

I kept my expression neutral, sipping from my coffee like this was all new to me.

Across the kitchen, I felt Buck’s eyes land on me.

“Wait,” he said, chuckling. “That’s what he pulled you aside for this morning?”

“Yeah,” I replied casually. “Didn’t know he was gonna announce it to the group so fast.”

“Damn,” Chim said, grinning. “Guess the rest of us need to start brushing up on our paperwork game.”

“Or start planning the next convention in Hawaii,” Hen added, winking.

Ravi looked disappointed for all of five seconds before going back to his cereal.

Bobby gave them all that calm, measured look that usually meant settle down, and held up the clipboard.

“Alright, breakfast banter’s over. Let’s get to the lineup.”

Everyone shifted back into gear as easily as flipping a switch.

But I felt it — under the surface — that charged, silent understanding passing between me and Bobby like a current.

We’d played our parts.

The others had no idea.

And in just a few days… We’d be out of the city. Out of reach.

And for the first time, alone.

[sunny-reacts-to-stuff]

tma 122 "zombie" in your heeeead in your heaaad

body horror, mortality, undead, stalking, existential horror, imposter, isolation, unreality, solipsistic delusion, psychopathy

zombie acoustic version is so much better than actual zombie imo

BASIRA <3

omg basira georgie conversation we are so back

"your dark gods" she is in that job as a hostage i dont think she claims them

"i came to melanie" MY GIRL!!

"honestly, it's not your business" georgie you called the institute

JON HOLY FUCK DRINK SOME WATER YOU SOUND DRIER THAN THE SANDSTORM GUY

can nikola come here and moisturize you again

can you NOT LAUGH???

oh she's asking if he got strangered :(

is he gonna have to be told the tim daisy business

LMAO NOT HIM BEING "i'm alright, i'm okay" AS HE IS WAKING UP FROM A COMMA FOLLOWING AN EXPLOSION. HE IS LITERALLY ME.

SIX FUCKING MONTHS?

SIX MONTHS?

I THOUGHT IT WAS TWO WEEKS?

he is no more.

oh.

my archivist :(

"daisy too" well i dont think he cares as much about that

grifter's bone, play brain damage by pink floyd.

see it makes sense because the episode is titled after the "in your head" song and brain damage says "there's someone in my head but it's not me"

hey georgie im all for jon self-care but he kinda needed to save the world

why would she be disappointed

PLEASE GRAB HIM THE WATER?? DON'T FUCKING ASK?? HE HASN'T DRANK THROUGH HIS MOUTH IN 6 MONTHS?

"how did you know i brought one" he got a nat 20 in an insight check

are you sure you dont want the fucking water

IN YOUR HEAAAAD

fav cranberries so

THE ARCHIVISTTTT!!!

either way, fav cranberries' song, everyone? mine's dreams and then either no need to argue or daffodil lament and ridiculous thoughts idk

rip danielle?

i did the same thing with philosophy

wait i have a danielle in the list

and a liam too :O

hey lorell did liam work at fanton's

who the fuck theorized that

LIAM CATCHING STRAYS!!

Philosopher Daniel Stoljar points out that zombies need not be utterly without subjective states, and that even a subtle psychological difference between two physically identical people, such as how coffee tastes to them, is enough to refute physicalism.[3]  Some physicalists, such as Daniel Dennett, argue that philosophical zombies are logically incoherent and thus impossible, or that all humans are philosophical zombies

woah i sure wonder why this character is named danielle

liam is catching so many strays

LIAM LOST HIS FUCKING HAND TO YOUR EXPERIMENT?

i really fucking hope you are right about the zombie stuff

three seasons in and i cant tell whether this is the stranger, the end or the spiral. im going with the stranger

i think the stranger and the spiral being different separate is kinda silly tbh

also i was explaining the entities to my friend and it went like "and then the

following you?

"he was identical to yesterday but with different clothes" that's how people usually work

basira my girlie couldn't you have picked a less "people are FAKE!!" statement after he just lost your girlfriend and his ex-friend to the PeopleAreFake monster?

this guy:

oh that was SO FUCKING CREEPY <3 i hate my life

you are gonna give your psychosis to jon

at what point in the statement did he drink a full glass of water

no fucking way the statement readership helps him that much

see here's the thing you are never gonna be yourself again regardless of the entity stuff and you are never gonna wake up as the same person twice and never swim in the same river twice and specially after such a trauma you can only rebuild a jonathan, but never the past jonathan

either way jon i think you should read piranesi in like 2 years when it drops for you

YOU ARE NEVER THE SAME PERSON THAT WENT TO SLEEP THAT'S THE WHOLE THING

hey can someone phone martin really quick and tell him jon woke up

QUESTIONS!!

OHHH QUESTIONS

basira, start him off easy

he feels more real :(

they found his remains :(

NOOO BASIRA MY BEAUTIFUL GIRL IT'S OKAY DON'T CRY :((

wait how many murders has melanie commited in these six months

YEAH IM SURPRISED MARTIN ISNT HERE TOO

WAIT. SIX MONTHS OF PETER LUKAS THAT'S RIGHT OHHHH FUCK OFF

"elias isn't the problem" said no one ever

martin pls be alright

fuck you mean dont know

YOU DONT SEE HIM?

melanie?

melanie?

is melanie well?

please i need her to be well

what the fuck did lukas do to the archives?

did it catch fire or something

nuance? oh new ones

YES PLEASE DRINK YOUR FUCKING WATER

honestly knowing you i think water is gonna do you better than whatever cheap shitty tea they have at the hospital

[clown-demon]

"It's not just that.. He has a manipulation tactic for every single person.. What doesn't work for one, he will change it to make it work another.. Or he will simply physically manipulate your mind. A guy that worked for Fyodor, literally lobotomized by Fyodor that he could only feel the emotion of happiness. That's what's quite frightening about that man, is all the tactics he has to manipulate someone... And I know-- because we are so alike.. Nearly every tactic he has used-- I have used as well in my past, or even sometimes today if it calls for it."

Fyodor and Dazai's minds are so alike, but so vastly different. Different sides of the same coin. If it wasn't for Oda being in his life, and the promise he made to his dying friend, he would very likely be on a very dark path, using humans as tools for whatever he desired if he hadn't ended his life then...

Dazai watched as Matt was going to receive his third bowl. It was sort of funny, he reminded him a bit of Atsushi, the way he ate. Just not as fast. The were tiger would probably be on his tenth bowl by now...

"Bingo-- not only does he not have any friends, he has no allies either. He does not trust what he cannot control. He practically only has puppets. And I am going to severe as many strings as I can. Not only to weaken his forces, but to save others too. He will use up a life until it is gone. He has even used children in his game to traumatize others. Brain washed them into a human bomb to bring down the morality of a team..." And that was just low.... That wasn't what a HUMAN did.. that was what a DEMON did...

When Matt said 'you can't kill him,' Dazai chuckled. He lifted his head with a twinkle in his eyes, he pointed a finger at himself. "Wrong.. I am the ONLY person who can kill him... Why do you think he wants to get rid of me so badly? My ability is called No Longer Human... Ask your friend what happened, it would explain it quite well. But I'll share it with you-- those I come in a very close vicinity to, or contact, I can nullify any ability... I don't think I need to spell it out to you what would happen if he were to die by my hands..."

Fyodor's ability would be nullified, there would be no body to jump to due to Dazai's own being a shield.. And he would die.

The detective blinked and make a bored look.

"Like I said, no one will be disappointed if they never get it. Only way they would is if you FAIL to keep it safe.. And you being so hell bent on getting the three pages-- it's giving me a... fishy feeling," Dazai pointed out to Matt.

Matt hums, "You're not wrong there. I got the gist of Fyodor's leadership skills to his guys." He refers to his manipulated tactics, he smiles, "The guy sweet talks you, telling you whatever you need or want to hear, and then it's hook, line, and sinker. His claws got into your heart before he crushed it, killing you after he is done using you. The guy has charisma. He's great for being a cult leader. A literal demon using human flesh. But hey... devils used to be angels and are quite attractive to look at, that's why so people fall for him."

Matt chuckles, "Trust me...his types exist, not uncommon as there are famed serial killers who are good at it. I will admit that I almost fell for it. ALMOST. When he started withholding information from me because I suspect there's more than just some treasure that he's willing to kill a lot of people over it. I suspect it's some kind of weapon, but a book? Well..you can use that as a weapon. That's the reason I came here, I need to know what he's not telling me."

Matt eats a piece of bamboo shoot and continues to slurp his noodles. Man, these noodles are really good. The broth is filling. He might buy this almost every day. He goes to ask for another bowl now. To which the chef nods and starts to make him a third bowl.

"And I have a feeling, you're going to use that against him. The guy has no friends because he doesn't have any to begin with. You need to take pieces off his side of the chessboard. Making him vulnerable and having him do the work. You can't kill him, so the best thing to do is to imprison him, freeze him, or have him killed by something else that isn't human."

"But that's another topic for you to figure it out! Let's talk about that book! I am fine in defending a fake page. Might disappoint a lot of people, but hey...it gives me the same goals as usual. " He shrugs, not minding what Dazai suggested. "If I prove to it that I managed to fend off all the people who want the book, then you gotta hand me three pages of it. Maybe you can start now, and you can see what sort of folks my guys and I are." Matt smiles.

[taegularities]

some men are textbook villains fr

[mackthecheesy]

rip to the person in my dream last night who i was in a time loop trying to save </3 woke up before i ever could

[quadrantbreaker]

a vessel hollowed out to be imparted

[kurtcore]

cried at work today! i’m now 3/3 for crying at jobs :)

[pedgito]

𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 | Harry Castillo x reader

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summary | Five years of being his assistant and five years of failed attempts at finding love with your help, but maybe the obvious answer has been there the entire time. Alternatively, you fucked your boss? Uh-oh.

author's note | harry...randy...who knows. i'll change it if needed but given the name tag, this is what i'm sticking with for now. skip the lecture about not writing until the movie is out, this isn't hurting anyone so don't bother me about it, xo. the horny demons always win. i listened to this song i repeat while i wrote, felt fitting.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, power imbalance (boss/assistant), work wife/work husband type beat, mentions of failed dating, being superficial, mentions of sugar daddy things, expensive gifts, reader is a godly assistant with a will stronger than mine, he smokes, they drink, sex while inebriated, he's down so bad, also oral!, tense morning after, open-ended

word count — 4.5k

You knew him better than anyone.

From his breakfast order down to his specific choice of underwear, like you weren’t making the weekly purchases and filling up his rarely used fridge in the apartment that was way out your price range, arranging his schedule down to the minute, booking his flights, packing his bag.

Really, Harry should just marry you.

…it was more of a joke, but you’ve teased him about it once or twice.

He called you his work wife anyways, but in reality, you were just his assistant.

He did trust you with his life, though.

More importantly, his love life.

“Kim flaked,” he tells you over coffee, perched at his kitchen island as you typed away on your laptop, looking up briefly with eyes that begged for him to explain, he does and makes a show about, mimicking a more feminine voice as he relays the message she gave him, “same song and dance—you’re great and fun but I can’t do anything serious right now,”

“Were you nice?” you ask curiously.

Harry rolls his eyes at that, like it was a stupid question to ask. But, eventually he nods.

“Did you ask questions?” you continue, fingers folding over the screen of your laptop to close it.

“Plenty, she works in finance, loves the color blue, wants to travel,” he could go on and on, throwing his hands up in defeat before they slump to his side, “maybe I should try out a real matchmaker—not that you’re bad at it—”

“You think I’m bad at it,” you smile knowingly, “don’t you?”

“No,” you’re unconvinced, “besides—you’re my assistant, I never meant for that type of responsibility to fall on you, you know?”

“I’m doing both of us a favor,” you remind him, “I think…it just takes time.”

And fortunately, all you had was time.

It felt pointless for Harry to spend a chunk of cash to have someone pair him up with the supposed love of his life, though you knew that money wasn’t a problem, you felt a weird responsibility to protect him, unsure how quickly someone would take advantage of his kindness.

“There’s a gala,” you tell him offhandedly, “next week. I already cleared your schedule for it. I think…maybe you should just peruse this time.”

“Peruse?” he chuckles, eyes creasing in amusement, his crow’s feet deepening with the emotion, “You’re a control freak, you sure about that?”

“That’s just mean,” you retort, “you’re paying me anyways—if you didn’t like it you’d fire me.”

He knew you were right, sipping quietly at his coffee in response.

He was frustrating, predictable, and painfully superficial. 

Every date was an exercise in appearances—perfectly tailored suits, dinner at the most exclusive places, charm turned up to eleven. And yet, none of it ever stuck. He was overcompensating and you weren’t sure why.

He was a good guy, down to his core, and in the five years you had worked with him there was never a moment you thought he didn’t deserve love, he was perfect. Too perfect.

That was the problem.

“You know, you’re like prime age to be a sugar daddy,” you tease him, knowing how he felt about the topic, “there’s plenty of apps that I can—”

“You’re relentless,” he grumbles, “if you ever did that, I’m firing you on the spot.”

“You wouldn’t,” it was a gentle challenge, smirk flashing across your face as he returned it with fondness, “without me you would crash and burn, Mr. Castillo.”

And he knows it.

–

The gala is a bust.

So, as a bandaid to his wounded ego, you order takeout and keep him company in his big, lavish apartment—it wasn’t the first time, it wouldn’t be the last.

You knew what the issue was, but there was a sinking feeling in your stomach that told you he wouldn’t receive the information well.

It was after every failed date, every expensive dinner.

They saw him at the surface, the charming man with an easy, warm smile.

You saw the man who kicked his shoes off and stripped himself of his suit jacket the second he walked through the door, who couldn’t resist a late-night binge of his newest streaming obsession, someone who insisted on stirring his coffee counterclockwise because it made it taste better, a man would text you pictures of squirrels in the park that he would feed on his way home.

It wasn’t that you were pining over him. You just knew him better than anyone.

“Why are you so dead set on marriage?” you ask him over dinner, turned toward him on the couch as he reaches for the remote to pause the show on screen.

He’s had this conversation before, but he’s never asked you any questions on the matter.

“What’s your opinion on it?” he’s avoiding, clearly, but you’ll bite.

“I don’t date, I’m not interested, signing a piece of paper isn’t going to signify my feelings toward someone if it came down to that,” you admit, “I’m not cynical, marriage is fine, but this stuff takes time,”

“Well, I’m not getting any younger,” Harry gripes, arms reaching over the back of the couch as he mirrors your position.

“Oh, please,” you scoff, “you’re forty-nine.”

“Almost fifty,” he corrects, “I’m ancient.”

“O-kay,” you sigh, “do you want honesty?”

“I’d hope you were being honest with me all the time.”

“No,” you laugh softly, “like…brutal fucking honesty?”

He’s silent, but attentive. 

“You keep choosing women who treat you like they’re next getaway vacation and you fall for it every time,” his forehead creases at the words, looking hurt by your words, “I see your bank payments every month, the activity—”

“It’s not like money is an issue,” he defends, causing you to sigh dramatically and fall back against the arm of the couch in faux distress.

“This is impossible,” you groan, staring up at the ceiling before you feel his hand circle around your wrist, tugging gently,

“Okay, I’m listening,” Harry says softly, pulling you upright, “I’m sorry—I am.”

“You want it to work so bad,” you tell him, “I see it—every time you approach someone you put on that smile and it works, but you’re giving so much and yeah, maybe some of them like that, but I’m sure a few would just enjoy a nice dinner here, or something simple. I think you forget to realize that someone can just be interested in you, for you, not for what you are or have,”

It’s profound, the way his face softens at your words, his touch still lingering around your wrist.

You’ve never even considered or entertained the idea that you might find Harry attractive or even attainable—for one, you had signed a contract that agreed to a professional work relationship, as a benefit for both of you, not that he ever had any intention to begin with.

You’ve been with him for so long, it feels, a fresh and young mind to help keep him active and busy, constantly refreshing ideas and helping him not feel like he was stuck, and you were damn good at taking care of him when he’s often tended to neglect himself.

The only thing you know is that he’s never looked at you like that.

Like you could see straight through him, all his flaws on display.

But, that was because you knew all of them.

You knew everything about him, even the worse bits.

His bad habits, his self-inflicting ones, everything that he refused to bring to the surface.

Harry’s fingers still lingered around your wrist, the weight of your words sinking in. 

But then, just like he always did, he broke the tension with a huff of laughter and frowns as he brushed you off.

“You just think I’m a sucker, don’t you?”

You shook your head with a faint smile, returning your arm to your lap.

“No—I think you like to see the good in people. So much good that you’re willing to ignore red flags.”

“Jeez,” he chuckled, clutching his stomach like you had physically wounded him, “that hurt.”

You shrugged and reached for the remote to resume the picture on screen, “You’ll survive.”

–

It was your day off—Sunday, the one day.

“Have you seen my cufflinks laying around?” he asked over the video call, “Shit—my tie, too. I can’t find it anywhere. I thought you said you laid it out for me.”

“No, I said I had it hung up and for you to lay it out before you showered,” you correct him, laying tiredly on your couch as you watched him search around frantically, hair damp and his bare shoulders on display, only catching the briefest glimpses of the towel around his waist as he turned the camera around, “Waitwait—go back!”

“There’s no fucking way you saw it,” Harry argues, “I’ve been looking for the last ten minutes—”

“In the pocket of your suit, the tie is there,” you tell him, “and given that you probably tossed the suit on the bed like you always do, the cufflinks are probably somewhere hiding under the blanket,”

He tosses you against the mattress, your screen succumbing to darkness as you wait, some shifting of the sheets before you hear him make a sound before he appears again, cufflinks pinched between his fingers and a look of defeat on his face.

“What would you do without me?” you ask with a cocky grin, finger hovering over the end call button as he shakes his head.

“What was this for again?” Harry asks curiously, laying you down upright as you caught a glimpse of his bare chest as he shrugged the crisp, white button down over his shoulders.

“It’s a charity auction, your favorite,” you chirp, “and you’re flying solo, so—don’t do anything stupid or…crass,”

“If I paid you double a day of work would you go?” Harry asks after a long pause, glancing down at the screen, “Triple?”

“Triple?!” you gawk, “see—you’re insane, this is what I’m talking about,”

He chuckles despite your response, “You’re good at keeping the sharks away,”

There were particular hawking businessmen who made it their mission to hunt Harry down at events and keep him occupied, eager to do business, whatever it may be—you were the unspoken master of redirection, as much as he refused to admit it.

“Can we grab dinner on the way?” 

“Burgers?” Harry asks, perking up slightly.

It was a constant go-to for you and him.

You nod through the screen, “Don’t even bother with the tie either, I’ll do it.”

–

“I can’t believe you roped me into this on my day off,” you whisper at his side, earning a half-smirk from him.

The charity auction was as lavish as you’d expected.

Crystal chandeliers, gold accents, and far too much champagne and hors d'oeuvres. 

Harry’s hand found the small of your back the moment you arrived, steering you through a sea of designer gowns and tuxedos, feeling uncomfortable in the tight dress and stilettos that you only wore on rare occasions, biting at your heels.

“You’ll survive,” he grins, grabbing you both a glass of champagne and pressing it into your waiting fingers, “I’m gonna…peruse, alright?”

“Don’t say it—that just makes you sound like a creep,” your face scrunches up in disgust as you sip at the alcohol, “just go—go, I’ll…handle everything else.”

The evening passed in a blur of small talk and polite smiles, but somewhere between the endless speeches and bidding wars, you found yourself on the balcony, the cool night air a welcome relief in the stuffy ballroom.

You smell him before you see him, the thick and rich scent of his cologne so familiar you swear you could find him on that alone, turning over your shoulder to see him closing the door quietly, cigarette pack tucked in his palm as he approached with a neutral expression.

“You okay?” you ask, leaning against the railing of the balcony.

Harry sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and then plucking a single cigarette from the box, “Honestly? I’m just tired of it.”

“The auctions? Charity?” you inquire, a small smile tugging at your face.

“All of it.” He looked at you, his gaze lingering as he lit the tobacco, “The events, the dates, searching for—I don’t even fucking know at this point,”

“The offer stands…” you say jokingly, though he knows exactly where this is heading.

“If I wanted a sugar baby I’d find one.”

Your eyes roam over his figure as he puffs at the cigarette, pulling a deep laugh from his chest before you’re pushing him away playfully.

“Let’s go,” he tells you with a deep sigh, stubbing out the end of the cigarette and tucking it away for later, tossing his arm over your shoulder as he readied to guide you through the crowd, always protective in spaces like this, another thing that was special to him.

–

The ride home is quiet, like it always is, both of you sitting in the backseat with the partition up, watching as he looked through his phone with a scowl, occasional typing and sending a message.

Eventually, he looks at you.

“Thank you,” He says with a soft tone, “I know this isn’t your favorite thing to do.”

You tilted your head into the headrest and smiled, crossing one thigh over the other as you worked at your heels to remove them, “Oh, it wasn’t that bad—the free alcohol is always a plus.”

He chuckled at that, silently helping you remove your shoes with a soft squeeze to your foot.

That was normal—but, it forces you to pause.

His natural instinct to help, to touch, to comfort you.

Your brow furrows at the gesture before you shake it away, blaming it on the buzz of alcohol in your system, watching as he continues the gesture with the other foot.

“Having you there makes it bearable, is all,” he explains, looking up at you briefly as he undid the tie around your ankle, “you…calm me, I guess.”

You swallowed. Hard.

The warmth of his words lingering in your chest, in his touch against your ankle, “You’d do the same for me.”

And he would—if you ever needed anything, anything, Harry was there.

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly, “without question.”

The sincerity caught you off guard. 

You turned to study him, the familiar slope of his nose, the line of his jaw. There was something about the way he looked tonight—tired, maybe, but softer. 

And he keeps looking at you, checking.

The car moved smoothly through the dimly lit streets, the city blurring past in streaks of gold and blues and reds. The hum of the engine was steady, the faint sound of music barely audible from the front, through the glass, the back lit up dimly by the trim of lights on the roof and door.

Harry leaned back, one hand moved against the seat, his other hand dragging slowly over his thigh—restless. 

Instinctually, without thinking, you reached for his hand.

It wasn’t purposeful. Just a simple act of absentmindedness.

You’ve done it a hundred times before. 

Tugged at his sleeves to fix his cufflinks, brushed lint from his lapel or pants, adjusted the collar of his shirts. Constantly fixed his hair, touching him wasn’t new.

His skin was warm. Not hot, not cold.

You felt the slight twitch of his hand, like he was debating whether to move. Instead, his fingers shifted, just a fraction, enough that the edge of his thumbnail brushed over the inside of your wrist.

The contact was thoughtless, nothing.

But, in the same moment, it felt like everything.

The way his eyes watched the movement, roamed your body like they had before but with a different implication, his eyes half-lidded and relaxed, wondering how much alcohol he had consumed himself—this wasn’t friendly.

And it definitely wasn’t professional.

Harry’s gaze was on you now, your face, as you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his hand.

Then his thumb moved. 

Up. 

Barely. 

A soft drag along your pulse.

It was half a decade of avoidance, defeat in his heart and mind, and fear in your own.

Broken, by the car rolling to a stop outside of Harry’s apartment building.

“We’re here, Mr. Castillo,” the voice of the driver came from the front, a nod of acknowledgement as his hand slipped from yours.

“Oh, hold on,” you were scooting aside to let him out, readied for the next stop as he cocks his head toward the building, “I’ve got something for you—I’ll drive you home, don’t worry,”

“Harry,” you stress, looking down at his hand that waves you toward him, extending out for you to grab, insistently as his fingers wiggle in wait.

Turns out, he wasn’t totally lying.

That something was accompanied by a seven thousand dollar bottle of Leroz Aux Brulees—you knew that because you had purchased it during his trip to France, the supposed city of love.

“I’m going to murder you,” you tell him as he places the bottle on the counter and keeps the closed case of mystery at his side, “hide your body, flee country—I hate surprises, you know that.”

“I think you’ll like this one,” he grins, popping the cork on the bottle and pouring two hefty glasses, eyeing the deep red as it glugged into the glass.

“You know, if you wanted company you could have just asked,” you tell him, “I get it, you’re lonely,”

He knows you’re only teasing but it stings nonetheless, both of you taking a long and heavy sip as his fingers swirl over the velvet casing before he’s pushing it over quickly, tapping it with his fingers, “Open it,” he encourages, eyeing you over the rim.

You place your glass down and pry it open slowly, carefully, like you were deconstructing a bomb, but as the piece inside comes into view you find yourself at a loss for words or thoughts.

Your eyes are wide, staring up at him with parted lips that tingled from the lingering alcohol, knowing you should have cut yourself off at one glass of champagne and refused to come inside, that you should have just went home and enjoyed what little bit of the day you had left to yourself.

Now, you were looking back at a necklace so delicate you were afraid to stare at it too long, embedded with a cluster of diamonds and nearly two years of your rent if you were doing the math correctly in your mind.

Always about the numbers, Harry constantly teased.

“I saw how you looked at it the other day,” he admits, “and I owe you a hell of a lot more, but it…I’m trying to say thank you for…being you,”

“I’m not taking that,” you refuse with a laugh of disbelief, sliding back over to him gently, downing the rest of your wine in one go to forget how fast your heart was beating in your chest.

“You are,” Harry insists, “consider it a bonus—Christmas is in a couple months, too.”

“You know…this is exactly that kind of stuff a sugar da—”

Harry makes a noise, shaking his head.

You bite your lip in thought, ignoring his subtle annoyance at your comment.

It was fucking beautiful, really.

You sigh, using one finger to turn the case back toward you, examining it closely.

Quietly, Harry presses his glass into the counter and rounds the edge toward you, his chest at your shoulder as he reaches for the jewelry, working carefully at the clasp before he’s motioning for you to relax your shoulders.

It wasn’t the stillness of the moment, but his touch, again.

He’s methodical in the way he touches you, dragging his hand around your neck as he fits the necklace into place, his fingertips pressing against the column of your throat in a way that tickles slightly, shifting uncomfortably until you hear the faint click and he breathes behind you, hands resting at your shoulders.

You’re not sure why he hasn’t moved, but you find yourself turning to speak.

“I’m just going to call an uber,” you tell him, “probably shouldn’t drive since we’ve both been drinking,”

“Yeah,” he agrees, but it sounds hollow, his eyes not following you as you move.

You hop from the chair and bend down to grab your shoes, but his hand is curling around your bicep and pulling you up and he’s staring again, the charge of his touch sending a jolt through your body as freeze,

“Come here,” he beckons, too natural.

And you listen.

He’s soft, every part of him. Skin, clothes, hair, lips.

He’s kissing you gently, like you might break, but you can tell he wants more.

Needs more.

“Are you going to regret this tomorrow?” you find yourself asking as he parts from you, licking at his lips as you both take a breath, letting the moment settle.

He shakes his head, “Are you?”

“Maybe,” you answer honestly, “maybe…not—fuck, I don’t know,”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he promises, but you knew that was a lie.

Still, you nod in understanding.

–

He’s so tender with his touch, slipping you out of the dress in the dim light of his room.

Even softer as he guides you to your back and spreads himself on his belly between your legs, fingers interlocked with his at your hips as he buries his nose between your folds, his tongue splitting your cunt open in a sharp gasp that has you throwing your head back. His lips traced a slow, deliberate path down your body, igniting sparks along every inch of your skin. 

He kissed along the curve of your thighs, teasing, tasting, until the tension was unbearable and with each flick of his tongue, each gentle suck, it pulled you deeper into a haze of heady desire. 

This was reckless, dangerous, but neither of you found the moment to pause and think.

You wonder if things had been building to this for a while—if it was always supposed to happen this way or if he was acting off of greed; lust and companionship, even if just for a night.

You know you can ask him to stop at any point and he would, but even as his tongue brings you to your first orgasm of the night and he’s guiding you to your stomach, reaching blindly into his bedside table for a foil wrapping the crinkles loudly in the silence, you want this.

It was embarrassing how badly you wanted this.

He fucks you slow, too. 

It was torturous, his chest flat against your back as he palms his cock and feeds it into you.

You don’t talk, neither does he.

But, his low moans and stuttering breaths speak for him.

If you could see him, you’d know how furrowed his brow would be, a hand sliding over the curve of your ass until he can reach your thigh, beckoning for you to raise it without speaking.

You oblige, the angle of his thrusts changing on a dime.

“I can’t believe you’re real sometimes,” he admits like he’s confessing a sin.

“Please,” you plead—please stop talking, please keep going, please fuck me.

You couldn’t decide.

You feel him nod where his forehead is pressed between your shoulder blades as his fist curls into the sheet beside your head.

“Another, gimme another,” he pleads, the fingers on his other hand curling under your neck to life your chin, not expecting to meet his eyes as he leans over you.

The expression on his face so raw it makes you flutter around him, his lips parting in a deep, guttural groan, “I know you can,” he nods hurriedly.

And damn, does the praise work.

Your whimper breaks him, breathing out shakily as you locked eyes when he comes, slow and forceful thrusts until you’re nothing but an exhausted pile of tangled limbs.

“Greedy girl,” he comments through the haze, a weak giggle bubbling from your chest.

He pulls out slowly, a low grunt as he does so.

You’re not sure when you fall asleep, but you wake to a startling amount of weight over your stomach, an arm splayed possessively, the faint outline of a ring as you drag your hand over the limb.

It’s only as your eyes pry open that reality hits you, stumbling out of bed quickly.

No…nononono, where the fuck were your clothes? Jesus.

You stumble around half awake, searching for the silk dress on the floor, feeling accomplished when you find it and hastily redressing yourself as Harry stirs in bed, encouraging you to hurry, to slip out before he can say anything.

Your shoes are already on and you’re reaching for the doorknob when the voice comes, the weight of the necklace that still remained on your neck, two empty glasses of wine on the counter, a night of hasty choices and urgency laid out like a crime scene as his voice rings out from behind you, pleading.

“Don’t—don’t go,” Harry begs, “You don’t have to go,”

So much of this was wrong—it complicated everything.

Your life, your job, your relationship with him.

He can see you slipping, fingers inching toward the knob as he approaches you in a hurry, barefoot and shirtless, the kind of scene you shouldn’t be comforted with, like this was all normal to the both of you.

You’ve seen him like this a thousand times, but not when he’s looking at you so vulnerable, heart tore open and stapled to his chest, beating against your own as his hands splayed out over your cheeks.

“I don’t regret it,” he assures you again, “so please—stay, okay?”

“What changed?” you ask, voice trembling, “Five years, Harry. Five.”

“I’ve been running in circles this entire time,” he admits, “you know it—I know it.”

You had been there the entire time, learning every part of him without judgement, cataloging his flaws and skills, learning how he ticked and what motivated him. You had never quite settled on the ideal person to fit in his life as his partner, it surely wasn’t you.

It couldn’t be you.

“Please, don’t go,” Harry echoed once more.

The sick, cruel joke of it all was that this was your job. 

You had nowhere to go. If it was any other morning, you would just be arriving, leaving his breakfast in the kitchen and starting your day.

You nod solemnly, “Of course, Mr. Castillo.”

It was painstaking, forcing the mask back on.

But, you couldn’t deal with this now.

Or ever, even.

Harry looks at you with a confused sadness, thumbs rubbing at your cheekbones before his hands fall to his side.

You’d figure this out, you always did.

[rafesgreasycurtainbangs]

❛ YOU AND RAFE TAKE HONEY PACKETS BUT HE CAVES FIRST ❜

girlfriend¡reader . . . rafe cameron

“Okay, but you guys have to hear this,” Mia said, swirling her wine before taking a dramatic sip. “Last weekend, Aiden and I tried those aphrodisiac honeypacks—you know, the ones they’re always hyping up on TikTok? Holy shit, it was insane.”

You raised an eyebrow, setting your glass down on the table with a soft clink. “Insane how?” you asked, curiosity piqued. Beside you, Lila, who’d been scrolling her phone absentmindedly, perked up, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

Mia grinned, leaning forward like she was about to spill a state secret. “Okay, so you know those little packets you can get at sketchy gas stations or online? They’re like honey mixed with some herbal stuff—supposedly gets your blood pumping or whatever. We each took one, and I swear to God, within twenty minutes, we were clawing at each other like animals. I don’t even know how to explain it. It’s like every touch felt electric, and I couldn’t think about anything except jumping him.”

Lila burst out laughing, her voice bright and sharp. “Oh my God, that’s fucking hot. Did you plan it, or just wing it?”

“Totally spontaneous,” Mia said, her cheeks flushing slightly—not from embarrassment, but from the memory. “We barely made it to the bedroom. I’m telling you, it’s like someone turned the dial up to eleven on every nerve in my body.”

You shifted in your seat, the wicker creaking beneath you, a slow heat creeping up your neck as you pictured it. Rafe flashed into your mind—his broad shoulders, the cocky tilt of his smirk, the way his hands felt when they gripped your hips.

You’d been dating him long enough to know he’d be game for something like this, but the thought of him losing control? That was a whole different level of intriguing.

“Wait,” you said, cutting through their giggles. “So it’s not just hype? It actually works?”

“Works?” Mia echoed, incredulous. “Babe, I’m saying it’s dangerous. Aiden was begging me to touch him by the end of the night, and he’s usually the one playing it cool. You should try it with Rafe. Bet he’d lose his mind.”

Lila nodded enthusiastically, her eyes gleaming. “Oh, he totally would. Rafe’s got that whole ‘I’m in charge’ vibe, but I bet you could break him with this. Make it a game or something—see who caves first.”

You chewed your lip, the idea taking root like a seed in fertile soil. The thought of Rafe—your Rafe, all sharp edges and simmering intensity—reduced to a needy mess because of you? It sent a shiver down your spine, one that had nothing to do with the cooling evening air. “Okay,” you said slowly, a grin tugging at your lips. “I’m in. Next weekend.”

Mia clapped her hands together, delighted. “Yes! Report back. I need details.”

. . .

“Hey,” you said casually, tilting your head to look up at him. His blue eyes flicked down to meet yours, a faint smirk already playing on his lips like he knew you were up to something.

“What’s up, princess?” he drawled, his voice low and rough, the kind that always made your stomach flip.

You shifted, sitting up a little straighter, your knee brushing against his thigh. “So, Mia was telling me about this thing she tried with Aiden. Those aphrodisiac honeypacks—you heard of ‘em?”

Rafe’s smirk deepened, his brows lifting slightly. “Those horny honey things? Yeah, I’ve seen ‘em around. Why? You wanna get freaky?” He chuckled, but there was a spark in his eyes, a flicker of interest that told you he was already hooked.

“Maybe,” you teased, running your fingers lightly over his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his T-shirt. “But I was thinking we make it fun. Like a game. We each take one, no touching allowed, and the first one to cave loses. Winner gets bragging rights—or whatever else they want.”

He tilted his head, studying you with that predatory glint he got when he was intrigued. “You think you can outlast me, huh?” His voice dropped an octave, thick with challenge. “Baby, I’m made of steel. You’re gonna be begging me to touch you in ten minutes flat.”

You laughed, the sound light but edged with defiance. “Oh, please. You’re the one who can’t keep your hands off me half the time. I give it five minutes before you’re on your knees.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, his smirk turning into something darker, hungrier. He leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “You’re on, sweetheart. Next weekend. But when I win, you’re gonna owe me big.”

The heat of his breath against your skin sent a thrill through you, but you pulled back, meeting his gaze with a wicked smile. “We’ll see about that.”

. . .

The following Saturday night, the air in Rafe’s bedroom was thick with anticipation. You sat cross-legged on his bed, the navy comforter rumpled beneath you, wearing nothing but one of his oversized T-shirts and a pair of lacy black panties. Rafe stood across the room, leaning against the dresser, shirtless in a pair of gray sweats that hung low on his hips. His chest was broad and tan, a faint sheen of sweat already glistening in the warm light.

On the nightstand sat two small golden packets, their shiny foil catching the glow of the lamp. You picked one up, turning it over in your hands, the weight of it surprisingly light for something that promised so much chaos. “Last chance to back out,” you said, smirking at him as you tore the corner open.

Rafe snorted, grabbing his own packet. “Not a chance. You’re going down, baby.” He ripped his open with his teeth, the gesture primal and a little too hot for your liking, and squeezed the thick, amber honey onto his tongue. You followed suit, the sweet, herbal taste coating your mouth, a faint warmth spreading down your throat as you swallowed.

For the first few minutes, it was all bravado. Rafe paced the room like a caged animal, cracking his knuckles, his smirk intact. “Feeling anything yet?” he asked, voice cocky as he flexed his arms, the muscles rippling under his skin.

You shrugged, playing it cool even as a subtle heat began to bloom in your chest. “Nope. You?”

He shook his head, but there was a tightness in his jaw, a slight flush creeping up his neck. “Nah.”

Ten minutes in, the air shifted. The warmth in your body intensified, sinking lower, pooling between your thighs. Your skin prickled, every brush of the T-shirt against your nipples sending a jolt through you. You shifted on the bed, pressing your legs together, trying to ignore the growing ache.

Across the room, Rafe stopped pacing. His breathing was heavier now, his chest rising and falling faster. He ran a hand through his hair, the strands sticking to his forehead, and when his eyes met yours, they were dark—pupils blown wide, a storm brewing behind them.

“Fuck,” he muttered, almost to himself. He leaned back against the dresser, gripping the edge so hard his knuckles whitened. “This shit’s no joke.”

You bit your lip, the sight of him unraveling doing dangerous things to you. “What’s wrong, Rafe? Cracking already?” Your voice was teasing, but it came out breathier than you intended, the need starting to seep through your composure.

He laughed, but it was strained, jagged. “You wish. I could bend you over right now and still win this.” But his hands stayed glued to the dresser, and his hips shifted—just a fraction, enough to tell you he was fighting the same war you were.

Fifteen minutes, and the room felt like a furnace. Your pulse hammered in your ears, your body screaming for contact. The air smelled of him—sweat and musk and that damn cologne—and it was driving you insane. You curled your fingers into the comforter, nails digging in as you watched Rafe.

He was a mess now, his sweats tented embarrassingly, his jaw clenched so tight you thought it might crack. His eyes raked over you, lingering on the way the T-shirt rode up your thighs, and he groaned—a low, guttural sound that hit you like a freight train.

“Goddamn it, baby,” he rasped, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re killing me. Just—fuck—just let me touch you. Please.”

You smirked, though it took everything in you to hold it together. “That sounds like caving, Rafe.”

He growled, stepping forward, then stopping himself, fists balled at his sides. “You’re such a fucking tease,” he panted, his voice raw, desperate. “Look at you, sitting there all smug. I bet you’re soaked, aren’t you? Bet you’re dying for it just as bad.”

He wasn’t wrong. Your thighs trembled, slickness pooling in your panties, but you weren’t about to admit it. “Guess you’ll never know unless you lose,” you shot back, voice shaking but defiant.

Twenty minutes, and Rafe snapped—or tried to. He crossed the room in two strides, dropping to his knees in front of you, his hands hovering an inch from your thighs. “Fuck it,” he breathed, his voice wrecked. “I lose. I fucking lose, okay? Just—please, baby, I need you. I’m going crazy here.”

You tilted your head, savoring the power, the way he looked up at you like a man unhinged. “Not yet,” you said, voice low and deliberate, your hand reaching out to graze his cheek—just a featherlight touch, enough to make him shudder. “You can wait a little longer.”

His eyes widened, a mix of shock and pure torment flashing across his face. “You’re kidding,” he choked out, his hands twitching, aching to close the distance. “Baby, I’m dying here. You can’t do this to me.”

“Oh, I can,” you replied, leaning back on your elbows, letting the T-shirt ride up higher, exposing more of your thighs, the edge of your panties just visible. His gaze dropped, and he let out a strangled sound, his whole body tensing like a coiled spring. “You said you’re made of steel, right? Prove it.”

Twenty-five minutes, and Rafe was a wreck. He’d slumped back onto his heels, hands dragging through his hair, sweat dripping down his chest. His cock strained against his sweats, a dark spot forming where he was leaking, and his breathing was so ragged it sounded like he’d run a marathon. “You’re evil,” he muttered, voice hoarse, his eyes locked on you with a mix of reverence and desperation. “Fucking evil, you know that?”

You shifted again, letting one leg fall open slightly, giving him a glimpse that made his jaw drop. “Maybe,” you said, smirking. “But you love it.”

Thirty minutes, and he was begging—really begging. “Please, baby,” he whispered, crawling closer, his hands trembling as they hovered over your knees. “I can’t—I can’t do this anymore. I’ll do anything you want, just let me touch you. I’m fucking losing it.”

You held his gaze, letting the tension stretch one agonizing second longer, then nodded. “Okay,” you said softly, victorious. “You lose.”

. . .

His mouth latched onto your nipple, sucking hard while his other hand kneaded the opposite side. The sensation—amplified by the honey packets still coursing through you—had you arching into him, a sharp cry escaping your lips as your nails dug into his scalp.

“Rafe—slow down,” you gasped, half-laughing, but he shook his head, his teeth grazing your skin as he moved lower, kissing and biting a frantic path down your stomach.

“No chance,” he growled, hooking his fingers into your panties and dragging them down your legs in one swift motion. He paused then, just for a second, staring at you—spread out, glistening, trembling—and the look in his eyes was feral, reverent, like he couldn’t believe you were real. “You’re so fucking wet,” he murmured, almost to himself, before diving in.

His mouth was relentless, tongue plunging into you, lapping up every drop like he’d been starved for it. You screamed, hips bucking, but he pinned you down with an arm across your waist, his other hand spreading you wider for him. He sucked at your clit, hard and fast, then slow and teasing, every movement driving you higher, the aphrodisiac making it all too much, too good.

Your hands twisted in his hair, pulling hard, and he moaned against you, the vibration sending you spiraling.

“Rafe—oh God—I’m gonna—” You couldn’t finish the sentence before it hit, a blinding orgasm that had you shaking, clenching around nothing as he kept going, drawing it out until you were whimpering, oversensitive and boneless.

He pulled back, lips shiny, chest heaving, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning like a man who’d just won the lottery. “You taste so fucking good,” he said, voice rough as he shoved his sweats down, freeing his cock—red, leaking, impossibly hard. He climbed onto the bed, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your stomach with ease, pulling you up onto your knees.

“Been thinking about this for thirty fucking minutes,” he rasped, lining himself up and thrusting in deep in one brutal stroke. You cried out, the stretch overwhelming, perfect, your walls fluttering around him as he set a punishing pace. His hands gripped your hips so hard you knew you’d bruise, but you didn’t care—every slap of his skin against yours, every grunt and curse spilling from his lips, was worth it.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, one hand sliding up your back to fist in your hair, pulling your head back as he pounded into you. “So perfect—shit, I’m not gonna last.”

“Don’t,” you managed, pushing back against him, meeting every thrust. “Come for me, Rafe.”

He did—hard—his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep, spilling inside you with a broken moan, his fingers digging into your skin. The feel of him, hot and pulsing, tipped you over again, a second wave crashing through you as you clenched around him, milking him dry.

He collapsed beside you, both of you slick with sweat, breathing like you’d run a race. His arm snaked around you, pulling you close, and he pressed a lazy kiss to your temple. “You’re a fucking sadist,” he muttered, but there was a grin in his voice. “Making me wait like that.”

You laughed, breathless, nuzzling into his chest. “Worth it, though, right?” “Fuck yeah,” he said, already sounding half-ready for round two. “But next time, I’m winning.”

𓂅 notes ―

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[mooningningg]

ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ʏᴇʟʟꜱ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ — ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ ꜱᴇᴇ ɪᴛ

Gojo, Toji, Sukuna, Megumi, and Suguru.

Genre, angst to fluff. Notes, another request by a anon, this was sooo fun to make!!!

★ GOJO SATORU

It starts at your mom’s house — a quiet Sunday lunch. The table’s full of food. You reach for the potatoes and your dad scoffs.

“No wonder you can’t lose weight.”

You laugh it off, tense. But it doesn’t stop there. Ten minutes later, he raises his voice about your job, your choices, your “attitude.” You apologize. Try to explain. He talks over you. Loud.

“You never listen! You always think you’re right!”

You try to shrink down in your chair. And that’s when Gojo speaks — calm, light, but deadly.

“Oh, my bad. I thought we came here for lunch. Not a free trial of emotional abuse.” He leans back, throws an arm over your shoulder. “You always talk to her like she’s garbage, or is today just special?”

Your dad glares. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Satoru smiles, wide and toothy. “I know exactly what I’m talking about. You think raising your voice makes you right. It doesn’t. It makes you an asshole.”

He turns to you, brushes your cheek.

“Wanna go? I’ve got better food and people who don’t treat you like shit.”

You leave. And for the rest of the night, he gives you nothing but gentleness. Every time you look shaken, he squeezes your hand and mutters, “He doesn’t get to talk to you like that ever again.”

★ MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

It happens at a small family BBQ. You’re arguing with your older brother, quietly, until he explodes.

“Why do you always have to be such a goddamn burden?!” he shouts. “You think the world owes you something?”

You stand frozen. Everyone else goes quiet. Your chest tightens — and then you feel Megumi step beside you.

He doesn’t raise his voice. Just stares your brother down.

“Don’t ever talk to her like that again.”

Your brother scoffs. “Who the hell are you?”

Megumi steps forward, deadpan. “The guy who’s been watching you treat her like shit for fifteen minutes. And the one who’ll make sure it never happens again.”

You tug his sleeve. “Megumi—”

But he keeps going. “It’s real easy to look tough when you’re yelling at someone smaller than you. You wanna try that again with someone your size?”

The tension gets unbearable. No one moves. And then, finally, your brother mutters something and walks off.

Later, when you're quiet in the car, Megumi murmurs, “Don’t ever apologize for needing me to speak up. I’d do it every time.”

★ RYOMEN SUKUNA

It’s after dinner. Your cousin’s been picking at you all night. Little jabs. Then comes the explosion.

“You’re such a fucking child,” she hisses in the hallway. “You’ll never be enough. That’s why everyone leaves you.”

You freeze. Sukuna’s standing behind you. He doesn’t ask questions. Doesn’t check on you.

He steps forward and says, flatly:

“You ever speak to her like that again, and I will make sure you wake up with a fucking toothless mouth.”

Your cousin gapes. “Excuse me—?”

He laughs darkly. “Oh, you heard me. Say another word. Please. I dare you.” He steps in her space. “Insult her again and I’ll put you through that fucking wall.”

You pull on his arm. “Kuna—stop—”

But he doesn’t look away from your cousin. “Say sorry. Now.”

When she mutters it and runs off, Sukuna finally turns to you. Wipes your tears with a calloused thumb.

“She doesn’t talk to you again. Not unless it’s on her knees.”

★ TOJI FUSHIGURO

You’re at your aunt’s place when it happens. She’s been criticizing you for an hour. Career. Clothes. Money. Life. Then her voice sharpens.

“You’re nothing like your sister. At least she did something with her life.”

You swallow hard, smile politely — but Toji catches the way your hands tremble under the table.

He sets down his drink. Pushes the chair back. Looks her right in the eye.

“You talk a lotta shit for someone whose kid just got expelled last month.”

She blinks. “Excuse me?”

He keeps going. “You’re real brave when you’re shitting on someone better than you. You jealous of her? That it?”

Your aunt gasps. “How dare you—”

“No. How dare you talk to her like that. She’s worth ten of you, and you know it.”

You’re frozen. Embarrassed. But Toji grabs your hand. “We’re leaving. You don’t need this shit. Let ‘em rot.”

Later in the car, he rubs your thigh, jaw clenched. “You say the word, I’ll go back and really say what I wanted to.”

★ GETO SUGURU

You’re helping set the table when your uncle suddenly snaps at you.

“You don’t do shit around here! You think you’re too good for this family now?”

Your mouth falls open. “I didn’t—”

“You didn’t what? You’re lazy. Always have been. Nothing but trouble.”

Suguru doesn’t yell. Doesn’t blink.

But he sets the fork down. Turns slowly.

“Talk to her like that again, and we’ll have a real problem.”

Your uncle sneers. “Stay out of this. She needs to hear it.”

“She’s heard enough of your bitterness for a lifetime,” Suguru replies, calm but deadly. “You treat her like shit because she became someone you never could.”

He steps closer. “She’s not the disappointment. You are.”

Your uncle mutters something under his breath and walks away. Suguru pulls you aside, tucks your hair behind your ear.

“You okay?”

You nod slowly.

He smiles. “Good. Because if he ever raises his voice at you again, I’m teaching your family what real disappointment feels like.”