#i need some ideas on how to make more money without actually getting a job currently because. mentally i dont think i can handle one yet

[kerink]

i want to talk about this idea the fandom has that curly didn't do anything to help anya. the fact of the matter is, curly didn't do anything to help anya on screen.

when we first join the conversation, anya's already told curly about the assault and is just updating him on her pregnancy status. we're never privy to what that first conversation looked like, what anya said or how curly responded or what decisions were made about it. but given that anya confided in him twice more about the situation (that she was pregnant and later that she had told jimmy), i have to assume his response to the initial assault disclosure was sufficient enough in her eyes that she knew she could continue confiding in him.

this exchange reads to me like "what to do about the assault" has been an on-going conversation between them, but curly has limited options to help her. but if he could figure out something to do, he'd do it.

let's look at the options available:

report it to HR. i don't think this option is very viable for a few reasons:

first, pony express doesn't seem to care about its employees. there aren't locks on their bedroom doors, there's only enough food and oxygen to get them from port to port with no emergency allotment, there are more crew than cryopods, they're not allowed to sleep for more than 5 hours a night, etc. i don't think they would have done anything to support her even if they had reported it.

HR may even blame anya for the assault, they may say that it happened because of something she did or did not do. it's her responsibility to take, not theirs.

second:

(thank you to @mudstoneabyss for pointing this one out to me)

curly needs this money because he's considering changing careers, which is likely to result in a pay cut or some amount of time job-hunting without income. swansea has a family back home he needs to provide for. it's daisuke's first year on the job and what a piss-poor welcome a pay cut would be, and he's an intern so the pay cut may be all or most of his salary. jimmy is living in poverty. anya has no savings.

it's entirely possible anya asked curly not to file an HR complaint not only because it would make her financial situation worse, but because she doesn't want to ask him, swansea, and daisuke to literally pay for jimmy's actions.

third:

even if curly did file an HR report he may have been told to do nothing. it's a long trip and they need all hands on deck to make the delivery on time! productivity over employee welfare. it's his job to keep the peace but keep jimmy working.

given how much stress curly's shown to be under, it can be assumed being captain is an extremely taxing job with a lot of both assigned duties and off-book duties. it may not actually be feasible to run the ship without a co-pilot.

maybe all he could do was talk to him.

2. go to the police. are there even police in space? i have to assume so because the alternative poses way too many questions. so there's space police. curly and anya call them and they come to the tulpar and dock on the ship and do an investigation and what happens to that limited food and air supply? the late delivery fee?

i'm a psychologist and my first psychology job was working as a crisis counselor for my county. my primary job was to sit with rape survivors as they had their rape kits done and support them as they made their reports to the police. this may not be true everywhere or across the board or in this dystopia but in my experience the police won't take a rape case seriously, or will have limited options to prosecute, or maybe won't even take the case at all without a rape kit.

so curly and anya call the police. they're going to have to file with HR too, to let the company know what's going on. and now anya has to pay for an HR complaint, a late delivery, and a rape kit.

is she going to get this paycheck at all?

3. curly acts on his own accord. this is the one that makes the least amount of sense to me, personally.

if curly just beats the shit out of jimmy then what? now jimmy's mad and embarrassed and takes it out on anya. we're going to confront him and risk making her suffering worse?

curly can't lock jimmy in his quarters for the duration of the trip not only because, as i said, maybe having a co-pilot is necessary for the ship to operate, but there are not locks on the doors.

curly can't lock him in the cargo hold because a) pony express would probably be beyond pissed off about that and who knows if the crew's pay would get docked or curly would get fired or if dragonbreath would sue them all for property damage and contamination. b) how do we get food and water to him? let him go to the bathroom? we open the doors and he busts out and who knows how violent he'll be then.

curly isn't going to kill him because a) that's one of his oldest friends, and i don't care what he's done or how angry curly is or how badly he wants to help anya, i really don't think it's realistic to think he'd be able to separate the anger from the love enough to end his life. b) it's cold-blooded, premeditated murder. it'd be one thing if curly caught jimmy in the act and killed him in defense of anya, he could maybe get away with that. but after the event is over? curly's going to jail for that, possibly for the rest of his life. if you worked at the post office and a coworker told you your best friend since childhood raped her are you clocking out and going to his house and killing him? it's not reasonable. i'm also just really floored how often i've seen this option brought up on the "prison reform abolish the police no matter how bad you are you still deserve human rights" website.

i also don't think it's reasonable, realistic, or kind to ask curly to act on his own accord without consulting anya. for curly to go against her wishes or act without her consent, that's further taking agency away from her. that's another man deciding what happens in her life. even if curly wanted to beat jimmy up or lock him away or kill him, maybe anya asked him not to.

so i ask, what was curly supposed to do? what did he and anya explore as options? what did anya ask him to do? we don't know and we'll never know. and that was intentional on wrong organ's part.

i don't say any of this to discount or discredit conversations or explorations or analyses about the role The Boys Club, toxic masculinity, and bro culture play into the plot, themes, narrative, or personal take-away players have. i fully 100% agree with, support, and endorse those narrative because despite everything i just said above, it's also true that curly is partially responsible.

it's true that he was irresponsible and an enabler for helping jimmy cheat on his psych exam, but there's no evidence at all that he's a conspirator to sexual assault and abuse, that he was going to cover for jimmy in a court of law. all he said was they would figure it out, and that could mean a whole lot of things.

i think curly has some percentage of the blame for what happened on the tulpar, i just don't think that percentage is as large of a number as a lot of people seem to believe. i'm not asking that we forgive or apologize or absolve curly, what i am asking is that we try to look at the situation with more nuance and empathy and good faith.

i don't think curly was a bad man or a bro who was ignoring anya and covering for jimmy's actions. but i also don't think he did enough to help her. he was never good at seeing the small details amongst the larger picture. he couldn't see jimmy for the dead pixel he was.

i think curly was sleep deprived, possibly under-fed, definitely overworked, and juggling too many balls with not enough options. i think he made the wrong choice, but i think he thought it was the lesser of the evils.

[coolcoolcoolbutwtf]

Fentons family's guide Section on being an evil assistant to a supervillain

_________________________________________

Fentons family's guide to being an evil assistant to a supervillain

Guide by Jazmin Fenton in case of employment with a supervillain.

Being an evil assistant or henchmen is surprisingly a very stable source of an income stream all things considered.

You just need to find a boss. A as in singular it's very important, who is pathetic and or stupid enough to constantly have their large scale plan failing even without the hero's Involvement.

And while their large scale plan for taking over the world with a weapon of mass destruction could be feasible if only they didn't think to actually use it. Using it to threaten the world leaders for sway is the correct way. It is the most unused method the one being used most is the method of actually using the weapon of mass destruction for mass destruction.

You as the evil assistant then have the responsibility to make sure that the villain doesn't/ can't use said device to destroy the world. The heroes can help. Later then take the blame for the failure absolving you of involvement.

Being a good evil assistant is babysitting the evil boss.

_________________________________pg 9___

"Oh man never thought I'd actually need to use the 'Fenton guide' Jazz made me." Danny mumbled quietly and heaved a sigh of relief when he had found it among his hastily packed together bag.

Jazz had been the one making both of their emergency bags when she had told him about the guide. He hadn't appreciated it then now he truly did now with everything going on.

God he missed Jazz so much. He wanted to see her so badly he wanted to hold her hand like when they were kids. He really wanted her hand to squeeze his back in reassurance that everything was going to be fine.

Danny tried holding back his sobs at the thought. He couldn't stop the mist in his eyes or his hands shaking holding the little booklet.

But he wanted her safe and far away from everything even more. He wanted his friends to be safe with his sister. It didn't matter if he had to be far away working getting those crystals every way he could think of. His friends and sister needed money to keep them safe, hidden and taken care of. They needed that money and crystals and if Danny had to choose between his morals and fright he would always choose his true family. Morals be damned.

• • •

He hadn't expected the costume to be so good in quality. That had surprised him the most the second being how easy it would be getting a job with villains. Turns out working as an "meta" henchmen who knew everything from fighting to logistics and machinery was a rarity in this dimension. Who would have guessed it with all the metas and enhanced humans going about? And omg they even have aliens in this dimension!

Getting the money for the crystals had been going surprisingly smoothly. Everything had been going so smoothly that of course it had to be ruined! The villain Danny was working for had gotten noticed and promptly got beat. Which meant he didn't have an employer anymore at least until a breakout was orchestrated. So no more job until then.

And Danny had finally managed his way to the middle hierarchy in that organization! Now he would need to go looking for evil henchmen positions again! It wasn't even a good season to go looking for openings in other organizations.

Damn it that bat furry in Gotham and his flock of birds. Don't they get how hard it is for a henchmen to find descant work!?

Maybe he should go with the duo villain and assistant type next time.

Thank you so much for reading I hope it was enjoyed!

Danny in the lair after having saved his villain boss from Batman after said villain had their scheme blown up in their face. Danny knew the plan would fail miserably but at this point he didn't care. He stopped trying to help when it came to schemes ages ago.

+Some art

Idk if I've posted this idea before but I've had this thing bouncing around in my head for a while.

[snaillock]

would you do satosugu discovering their "friend" (both of them have a fatass crush on m!reader) is a teen dad, and just all of them chaotically taking care of a baby. (like those collage students raising a baby tiktoks?)

ok so technically i only write for blue lock buttttttttttt… i am more than willing to make an exception for this. this is also my favorite niche of satosugu fics so im super honored someone requested it from me

tags: male reader has a foster daughter bc hell yeah girl dads, unnamed child bc that's too much for me, reader is a sorcerer, found family but in a janked up kinda way, whipped satosugu, pre-hidden inventory so everyone is in high school in this this a long one yall

part two coming soon!

★ when assigned an extremely harsh mission, you find an orphaned child barely a year old within all the rumble. you soon found out her family was recently killed in the destruction. unsure of what would happen to her after this, you decided to take her as your own.

★ scared of any judgment, you didn’t tell anyone about her so only a few higher-ups were aware. luckily you were allowed to live off campus so you two could have more space and privacy.

★ however the physical effects of raising a kid all on your own at such a young age were certainly showing. you came to school visibly worn down, often falling asleep in the middle of class and taking more absences than usual.

★ the first people to notice, of course, were gojo and geto. as nosy as they were, they tried not to push it, knowing you had just come back from a really taxing mission. though they did get more and more suspicious whenever you didn’t let them visit your new place.

★ however one day, they did spot you out in public wearing a baby carrier with, of course, a baby they’d never seen before resting right inside. they immediately came up to you and bombarded you with multiple questions before you got them to chill out and explained everything.

★ wanting you to take some time off (and win you over), they offer to take care of her regularly. who were you to refuse? after all, it is free babysitting and you were already using up so much money hiring actual babysitters.

★ during their first babysitting job, you thanked them profusely before going back into your room and instantly falling asleep the moment your body hit your bed, taking a very well-deserved nap.

★ you see, gojo was already pretty hesitant about you having a kid around. this was before he took in megumi so he found basically any child gross and annoying. (though he’s somehow even more attracted to you now that you’re a dad.)

★ coughs dilf lover gojo i mean what?

★ so when gojo picked up your baby for the first time, she immediately cried when they made eye contact and he got so so personally offended that he started rethinking this whole babysitting thing.

★ the first thirty minutes or so of taking care of your kid went pretty okay. that was until she started crying again and neither of them knew why.

★ you see, these idiots have no idea how to care for a child.

★ they frantically tried to calm her down and figure out what was wrong without needing to wake you. they checked if she was hurt in any way, she definitely wasn’t hungry since they already fed her, nor did she need to be changed. gojo even called shoko to see if she could do anything.

★ when they eventually saw her crawling towards your room and sobbing right outside your door, hesitantly let her in to see her climb onto your bed and lay down with you, realizing she just missed you the whole time. that entire experience made them so exhausted that they almost climbed into bed with you. but when they saw the gratitude on your face after you woke up, it made it all worth it.

★ luckily the next few times they watched over her, babysitting got more and more easy as she grew used to them.

★ they start coming over so often to look after her that your place basically becomes their second home.

★ geto is in charge of doing her hair since the last time gojo attempted it, it was just a big mess of hair ties and ribbons. geto’s definitely not complaining since he loves to get her ready. in fact, geto does a lot of the responsible stuff when taking care of her since gojo, hmm what’s a nice way to put it, lacks a lot of the necessary skills.

★ oh yeah, remember what i said about gojo hating younger children? yeah, that completely changes as he spends more time with your daughter. he’s almost always playing with her or showing up with a brand new toy or stuffed animal just for her. he ends up loving her so so much and wants to be her cool fun dad.

★ unfortunately both of them are way too nice when it comes to disciplining her. they let her get away with so much. late bedtimes, too much tv, grabbing any treats she wants off the grocery store shelves. how can they not spoil such an adorable little girl like her!?

★ what’s also unfortunate is how they try to drag you into it.

“come on, y/n. let loose a little. cake for dinner does sound pretty appetizing right now.”

“come on. just let her watch ten more minutes before bed.” gojo lazed on the couch with her on his lap. “besides this cartoon is starting to get good.”

“come onnn… just let her buy it.” geto held up a sparkly pink dress you already told him she doesn’t need with his own sparkles in his eyes. “she’ll look so cute in it. i promise i’ll pay you back.”

★ their hearts explode whenever you’re affectionate with her. they love the way you gently rock her in your arms while humming a sweet lullaby, slowly lulling her to sleep. the way they see you kiss her forehead after placing her into the crib before quickly turning around and acting like they weren’t staring the whole time. they fall head over heels for you for probably the twentieth time by now since they met you but those times were definitely the hardest.

★ they’ve been in her life for a good while so when she begins talking more frequently, she starts calling them her papas as she does with you. gojo aka former “ugh kids are so gross and icky” feels his heart combusting whenever she calls him that and he owns that title proudly. meanwhile geto feels so endeared and honored that she sees him that way.

★ “we’re not the stepdads. we’re the dads that stepped up!” looking asses.💀

★ the secret of you having a kid doesn’t last for long since these two can’t keep quiet about it. they’re just way too happy and want to show her off. especially gojo who scrolls through 100s of photos of her while gushing about her to basically anyone who’ll listen. shoko and nanami are the most common targets whenever this happens.

★ he even ends up showing photos of you and your daughter napping together (that you had no idea he took), making you snatch his phone away in embarrassment.

★ whenever you guys go out on family dates to go to the beach or picnicking, geto always takes the time to dress her up with pretty hairstyles and cute little outfits. he absolutely loves doting on her.

★ they love her with all their hearts and would do absolutely anything for her. she’s so lucky to have three weird dads take care of her and raise her. a very odd and… unconventional family dynamic but an amazing one nonetheless. this family only grows bigger and bigger once gojo takes in megumi and geto practically adopts mimiko and nanako.

please read my rules before following

taglist: @userwithlotsoftime @lucas2060 @kiiyoooo

ayo we rocking with the star bullet points?? 🗣️⁉️

[merrybloomwrites]

Been Here for Days

Summary: You never thought about the dangers of dating a celebrity. But when you get taken by a man who's after Harry's money you're faced with the jarring reality that you're not as safe as you thought.

Word Count: 3.7K

CW: kidnapping, drugs, violence, attempted sa, hospitals

AN: I've read a few mafia AU stories where reader gets kidnapped because of Harry's dark world. So it gave me the idea for a non-AU story in which the reader gets kidnapped, simply for being the partner of a famous and wealthy popstar. I've had this partially written for a while but it seemed fitting to include in Whumptober so I finally finished it up.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dating Harry Styles came with a certain level of attention. This wasn’t a surprise to you, and you learned how to deal with it fairly quickly. Harry also did a lot to protect you and try to keep you out of the public eye as much as possible. 

Whenever he did get overprotective you’d remind him that it’s okay, you knew what you signed up for. But he always reiterated that his personal life should be private, and he didn’t want people trying to get more information about the two of you than he chooses to share.

One thing that’s obvious is that no one really cares about you. Not as an individual. They care that you’re Harry’s girlfriend. There’s not a doubt in your mind that if the two of you ever broke up, you’d never have photos posted of you again. 

And you’re fine with that too. It doesn’t bother you that you’re just seen as the girlfriend, mainly because it means people don’t care to go digging and finding facts about your life. Your family has been left alone for the most part, and you can still go out alone without being bothered.

Occasionally an individual will show deep interest in you, and you’ll find a social media account dedicated to you. Sometimes it’s a fan page, sometimes it’s a hate page. You let them be, since they’re still only posting things that are already released to the public. Even these ‘more enthusiastic’ people aren’t really crossing boundaries, since they’re not trying to find private photos or follow you to get photos of their own. 

Or so you thought.

Since spring began, and the weather turned nice, you’ve been making sure to walk to work each day. Ironically, you’d gotten a job in a local bakery. You wanted a steady job of your own while Harry isn’t touring, and this seemed like a perfect choice. You love getting up early to bake and decorate what’s needed for the day. It’s calm, and therapeutic. You mostly work in the back, doing the actual baking, but occasionally you fill in up front at the register. 

Each morning you walk to work as the sun is just rising, and you get home by early afternoon. This gives you time to run errands, do some chores around the house, or just take some time to relax before Harry gets home. He’s been working more in the studio recently, but still makes it a point to get back by 5PM in order to spend a couple of hours with you every day.

You cook a meal together, talk about your days, and often put on a movie and cuddle. It’s the simple things that bring the two of you joy, just getting to end your days together. 

You wake up on Monday morning, and it starts just like the rest. You get dressed, kiss the cheek of a still sleeping Harry, and begin your walk. You have an odd feeling, but you can’t quite pinpoint what it is. You were up a bit later than usual the night before, enjoying some adult activities with Harry, so maybe you’re just a bit tired.

The same feeling is there on the way home. But you’d had a tough day at work with someone calling out, leaving you to try and continue baking while also working the register. 

This feeling continues the whole week, and you continue to make excuses as to why you’re so anxious during your commute each day. But when the next week is the same, you begin to grow wary. Finally, on Thursday of the second week you realize that it feels as though you’re being followed. This thought does freak you out, and you plan to talk to Harry that night at home.

But you don’t make it home.

The weather on your walk back to the house is perfect, if not even a little warm. But you don’t feel it. You feel chilled, and nervous, and you’re glancing over your shoulder every two seconds. You’re mad at yourself, berating yourself for not calling Harry to have him pick you up. You’d convinced yourself it would be fine, and you didn’t want to bother him. But now as you walk alone, sensing another person might be following you, that logic seems incredibly stupid. 

As you’re pulling out your phone to call Harry you hear a noise in the bush next to you. Instinctively, you turn towards the sound. Everything happens so quickly, yet as though it’s in slow motion. A man rushes at you, covering your mouth so you can’t scream and using his other arm to keep you still. 

You try to fight back, but he’s bigger, stronger. Despite your best efforts, he still manages to get a needle into you. At first you feel the pinch of the needle, and then you feel nothing at all, and your world goes black. 

When you wake up, you’re disoriented. You’re in a bed, and while it’s comfy, it’s not your own. The bedroom you’re in is completely unrecognizable. Slowly, your memories come back. There was a man. Who’d probably been following you for weeks, tracking your schedule, and he’s now taken you. 

And not to some basement, or a warehouse or something creepy that you’d see in movies. No, he took you to his home. To a bed. And that feels even worse. You quickly assess your body, and are relieved to find that you’re still in your same clothes, and all you can feel are a couple minor scrapes and bruises, likely from trying to fight the man. 

There’s a window in the room so you get up and peek out. It’s dark, indicating a lot of time has passed. You can’t see anything outside, no other houses, and hope it’s just because of how dark it is. Because the idea that there’s nothing nearby is causing you to panic even more than you already are. 

You check the door, but of course it’s locked from the outside. The window won’t open either. You’re trapped. 

There is a bathroom attached to the bedroom, but no way to escape from there either. It does mean you can take a sip of water and splash some water on your face which helps calm you briefly. 

Taking deep breaths you begin to pace. Your mind spins, trying to come up with escape scenarios, and hoping that someone is figuring out where you are so they can come get you. The sky turns pink outside and you check your surroundings again. 

There’s nothing but a large open field. No biggie. Maybe there’s civilization out the front of the house. There’s no way you’re locked in a house with a crazy person out in the middle of nowhere. 

Tears spring to your eyes but you refuse to let them fall. There’s got to be a way out of here. A way back home. A way to Harry. 

You’re left alone for what feels like hours. You’re a little hungry, but that’s the least of your concerns at the moment. 

Finally, the door opens. You stand your ground in the middle of the room, not wanting to back yourself into a corner for whatever is about to happen. 

Taking a deep breath, you stand up straight, not showing any weakness to the person who took you. 

“Well good morning sweetheart,” he says. The pleasantries, the nickname, it’s all nauseating to you, but you keep your expression unreadable. 

“My name is Roy. I’ve been watching you and your boyfriend. You make a very cute little couple.”

“What do you want with me?” You ask, ignoring how violated you feel at the confirmation that this strange man has been following you. 

“Isn’t it obvious? Money. I want money. Harry seems to be quite devoted to you. I bet he’ll pay anything to get you back.” 

And it is obvious, really. It shouldn’t come as a surprise at all that people would want Harry’s money. But you never expected anyone to literally kidnap you for it. 

“Don’t worry though, I’ll make sure you have food and water and a safe place to stay. Might rough you up a bit, maybe have some fun,” he says as he steps forward and runs a finger along your cheek, causing you to recoil and bump into the bed behind you. 

He laughs at that, seeming to enjoy your discomfort, and then adds, “Of course that may be some good incentive for your boyfriend. I’m sure he’d hate to see anything bad happen to you.”

Your fear amps up a notch hearing this but you keep your emotions off of your face. You’re determined to stay strong throughout this whole ordeal. This man does not get to overpower you, doesn’t get to see you break like you’re sure he wants. 

He steps back a moment later and says, “Just need a quick picture, you know proof of life, proof I have you, all that.” Before you can register what he’s saying he takes out an old camera and takes your picture, the flash stunning you. 

“I brought you a sandwich and some water. It’s all sealed so you know I haven’t done anything to it. Wouldn’t want you starving yourself or dehydrating,” he says as he hands you the items. You take them, confirming they are in fact unopened. 

“Eat. I’ll be back later,” he says before stepping out of the room. You hear the definitive click of the lock but you still double check, just in case it’s open. 

Of course it isn’t, but you had to try. After examining the food to confirm it hasn’t been tampered with you take a tentative bite. It’s good, and that first bite kick starts your appetite so you quickly eat the rest. 

Roy comes back hours later to drop off dinner. He again leaves you alone to eat, and you’re starting to get lulled into a false sense of security. You think that maybe it won’t be so bad. If he’s just after money, then he might just leave you alone and then he’ll get paid and you’ll be home. 

But of course it can’t be that simple. 

Later that evening he comes back in.

“I’m bored,” he says. Just two words shouldn’t be so bone chilling, but you understand the implication. He’s bored and you’re at his mercy. He’s already drugged and kidnapped you. There’s not telling what else he’s capable of. 

By the time he leaves again you're bruised, and there’s blood running from your split lip. He’d thrown you around, hit you hard enough to send you to the ground where he kicked you repeatedly. It was terrifying and painful. 

But you admit to yourself that it could’ve been worse. You somehow convince yourself that it wasn’t so bad, that you’ll recover quickly once you get home.

After another day and a half with Roy, you’re doubting that will happen. You’re doubting you’ll recover. You’re doubting that you’ll get home. The situation has turned from terrible to terrifying. 

You’ve spent three nights in this room, including the one you were mostly unconscious for. Roy’s violence has grown, and now he seems to be changing plans again. 

“These bruises look lovely on you,” he says. It’s creepy as fuck, and indicates that whatever happens next will be awful. 

“While the violence has been fun, there are other ways to bruise your skin. I think I’ll do that today instead.”

After days of beatings you’re too tired to fight back. You lay there crying as he climbs on top of you and pins you down. His mouth goes to your neck and he begins to suck a mark there. Bile rises in your throat and it takes everything in you not to vomit at the feeling of him so close to you, touching you in this way. 

You’re wondering how you’re going to survive what’s sure to come next when there’s a noise. Suddenly the door slams open and nearly a dozen people enter the room. At first you’re terrified that they’re here to hurt you as well, but then Roy is pulled off of you and handcuffed and you realize that they’re police officers there to save you. 

One comes and talks to you, reassures you that everything is going to be okay, but still, you’re scared. It’s too much. Too much noise, and commotion, and people. You’re overwhelmed.

And then one more person enters the room. He looks different, more frazzled with a longer beard than you’ve ever seen. But as he crouches beside the bed and holds your hand between his, there’s no denying that Harry is here. 

There’s a darkness that’s been pulling at you for a while, and now that Harry’s here and you’re safe, you finally let it pull you under. 

You wake up in an uncomfortable bed wearing an itchy gown. There are bandages wrapped on various parts of your body and tubes and wires attached to you. Everything is still hazy, but you know there’s a hand holding yours. 

You quickly and clumsily pull away, not wanting anyone to touch you right now. 

Slowly the world around you refocuses, and you realize the person next to you is Harry. As much as you want his comfort, you can’t bear to have anyone’s skin touching yours. Not when it only makes you think of Roy and what he did. And what he was planning to do. 

Over the next few hours people come and go from your room. Nurses, doctors, detectives, all sharing information and asking you questions. 

But you say nothing. You don’t respond. You lay there, watching with a blank expression. Someone brings in food for dinner, and you eat just enough to make them happy before pushing away the tray and curling further into your blankets. 

The next day is much the same. They bring in a trauma counselor and though she’s a kind woman, you still say nothing. 

And it’s not that you’re upset with, or mad at these people. They’ve done nothing to you. But there’s this block in your mind right now. You’re so exhausted from the whole ordeal that it’s taking everything in you just to eat food and drink water and get yourself to and from the bathroom. 

Another two days pass and your doctor is in the room talking to Harry. He tried speaking to you but still you’re unable to find your voice. 

“Medically, she’s well enough to go home,” the doctor says. “Her injuries are healing well enough that I’m ready to discharge her.” 

You perk up a bit at this news. You miss home, miss the big comfy bed with the big windows. You miss your garden, and how peaceful it is. Hearing that you might be able to go back to your house with Harry has you more alert than you’ve been in days.

But then the doctor adds, “However, I’m concerned by her mental state. She still hasn’t said anything, and she barely lets anyone touch her. It’s important that her bandages get changed regularly and I’m worried that she won’t allow you to help with that. So until that changes she’ll have to stay here.”

Your heart drops at that. The despair you feel has you finally breaking through and suddenly you say, “No. Home.”

They both look at you and Harry quickly moves to the side of your bed. 

“What was that, baby?” he asks. He looks hopeful and you know that he’s just happy to hear you speak again.

“Home. Please,” you state. It’s hard to talk, full sentences being something you can’t do yet. But you get your point across and Harry looks at the doctor to see what he has to say about this advancement. 

Your doctor comes closer as well and asks, “Will you be okay with Harry helping you at home? He’ll have to touch you to properly clean and bandage your wounds.”

You nod, but you know that alone won’t convince them. Even though it takes a lot of courage to do this, you reach out your hand and grab Harry’s. He gasps at the contact and quickly laces your fingers with his. It feels foreign, and you hate that you no longer feel comfortable holding hands with the person who used to be your safe place. 

Apparently that was the right move, though, because you’re discharged by the end of the day. You get wheeled out, and Harry helps you get from the chair into the car that’s there for you. There’s still an overwhelming part of you that wants to flinch away from his touch, but you tell yourself that he needs this. He needs to be able to help you. 

On the drive, Harry informs you of the updated security the two of you will have. It’s weird to know that there will be people watching the house at all times, but you admit to yourself that it makes you feel better. 

Once you’re finally home you breathe a sigh of relief. And then you get to your room and the exhaustion hits again. 

You sit down on the bed and Harry moves through the house, doing all kinds of things that he thinks will help you. His nervousness is obvious, and you want to tell him you’re okay, that he should relax.

When he focuses on you again he asks, “What can I get for you? What do you need?”

“Bed.” 

“You’re tired? You want to get ready for bed?”

“Yes.” 

“Okay, we can do that. Let me get you some clothes and then we can go brush our teeth together. And I’ll bring up some water and maybe some food in case you wake up hungry since you didn’t eat too much dinner before we left the hospital,” he rambles. It seems that he’s trying to make up for your lack of words by speaking more than usual. 

Harry grabs the clothes and walks over to you. It’s clear that he’s about to help you up and so you quickly stand and walk to the bathroom before he has the chance to touch you. You hate seeing the pain in his eyes at your rejection, but you’re just not ready yet. 

After getting ready you climb into bed. It’s so soft, so comfortable, and so familiar that you quickly fall asleep. 

You wake up with a jolt, your heart racing as the images of your dream race through your mind. The worst part is that it’s not just a made up nightmare, but the memories of the nightmare you actually lived. 

“What’s wrong?” Harry asks and he reaches out a hand to comfort you. He quickly pulls it back when he sees the way you eye it with fear and trepidation. 

“I can go,” he says. “If you’re uncomfortable with me in the bed I can stay in the next room.”

Immediately you panic at the thought of him going anywhere. “No. Stay. Please. Just, don’t touch,” you reply.

He nods and the two of you sit there in bed next to each other. You begin to cry and Harry fights back tears of his own. 

After a few minutes Harry says, “They wouldn’t let me pay the ransom.”

You turn to him, confused for a moment. And then you realize that he’s explaining why it took so long to get you out. 

“When I got the message from…him. I showed it to the detectives who were here and told them I’d pay immediately so I could get you back. But they wouldn’t let me. Said it would set a precedent and put you in even more danger. Make you a target. That if I listened to this crazy person’s demands and gave him what he wanted, more people might try to take you to get money as well. I hated knowing that they were right. That I couldn’t do the one thing in my power to help you without making life riskier for you. And I hated that you being with me put you in that position in the first place. Y/N, I am so sorry that this happened to you, that it happened because of me.” 

His voice breaks and you sit for another moment absorbing what he’d just said. You didn’t realize before, but now you know that you were mad at him. You were mad that it took so long for them to get you. But everything he said makes sense to you.

And as horrible as the experience was for you, it was awful for him as well. He looks just as exhausted as you are, and though he didn’t deal with the pain and terror that you did, he spent days filled with anxiety and fear and guilt. 

You lay down on your back, looking up and trying to silently send him a message. Once he understands he lays down as well. Slowly, one inch at a time, you shift closer to him. Finally, you turn and lay your hand on his chest. He brings up his hand and places it gently on top of yours.

The touch no longer feels foreign to you. It finally feels comforting again. Building up courage, you move again, lifting your head until you can place it on his chest. This time he doesn’t hesitate, but quickly wraps his free arm around your shoulders, holding you close to him.

For a moment you panic, feeling trapped by him. But then you take a deep breath, inhaling Harry’s distinct smell, and you relax into his hold. 

“I forgive you,” you say quietly. Harry lets out a sob and you squeeze his hand reassuringly. After a moment he controls his tears and regulates his breathing. 

“I love you. So much,” he says.

“I love you too,” you reply.

You know that this isn’t the end. There’s a long road of recovery ahead of you. But being able to lean on Harry, to trust him fully again, you know that you’re going to be okay. He’s going to be there, he’ll help you on the bad days and celebrate the good. 

He begins to quietly sing, filling the room with his familiar and comforting voice. He lulls you back to sleep, but stays up for a while just watching you, reveling in the feeling of having you back in his arms, home where you belong. Safe and sound once again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Thank you for reading!

[maxwellatoms]

Hello Mr. Atoms, I'm an animation student in college and fan of your work. I got this assignment in which I need to ask questions to a professional in the area. Could you pretty please answer them? It'd mean a lot to me.

1- Are you happy with your career? How it's going.

2- What are your opinions, expectations and hopes about the independent animation industry that's developing?

3- What do you think about the advent of artificial intelligence? Do you fear for the future of animators?

4- If money wasn't a problem, would you still do what you do?

5- Any animators you admire and would like to mention?

Okey dokey.

1- Are you happy with your career? How it's going.

Not really, in that there seems to be no career left.

The animation industry swelled its numbers greatly before 2020. Almost immediately after that, corporate greed synergized with a pandemic to reduce animated programs and the number of people working on them to almost zero. It takes almost a year from beginning to end to make a single episode of an animated show (by the modern standard). There was nothing being made in 2020 and four years later, we''re not in a much better spot. It's going to be a long drought for (especially) Kid's TV Animation.

Recently, many of my former co-workers have hit the financial wall and can't continue, moving away after (sometimes) 20 years in the industry. I begin to wonder if I'm very far behind.

A "bounce back" a year from now would need to start today. There are still some animated shows being made now, but those are almost universally "library" properties. That means it's an existing I.P. (Intellectual Properties like Garfield/Mario/Batman/Star Wars) so as an artist you're immediately in that box. Depending on the property and the studio, it can be an unpleasantly tight box. I grew used to holding and maintaining the vision for a show, but it's less fun when it's not my vision. It's even less fun when you can't inspire someone to follow your vision because they've been so ruthlessly abused.

I'm pretty sick of how big media corporations treat their employees. If I inherit one more burnt out crew due to mismanagement, I'm gonna lose it.

Over a decade ago I fought hard to get board artists story credit for the episodes they were actually writing, and felt like I'd won a big victory for everyone. The second my back was turned, it all reverted.

Mostly... what is the point now? My career is/was developing ideas, crafting those ideas into a workable show, then managing teams of thirty to seventy people to produce a couple of dozen episodes per year. Studios actively do not want new ideas right now, and are actively searching for ways to eliminate what artists from the process. I'm not sure what my job would be under this new system, but it feels like they decided to hang onto the anxiety-inducing deadlines while removing anything remotely pleasurable from the experience.

2- What are your opinions, expectations and hopes about the independent animation industry that's developing?

It's the only way to get anything done, currently.

The current state of the industry is not sustainable. I (along with a lot of other animators I know) are trying to decide what's next, and pretty much everyone agrees that "you just have to make something".

It is (in that very specific way) a great time to be a young animator. The system was never going to treat you well anyway. If you can get something like a Hazbin Hotel happening without studio help, you can currently write your own ticket. I'm super proud of Vivsie, because that's a LOT of stuff to handle. I never had to handle my own marketing or drum up money to make Billy & Mandy happen.

There are opportunities there, but it's definitely "Hard Mode". The best idea is probably to team up with a few other people you like and like to work with.

Hopes? I hope that the young animators take over and make something new on top of the bones of the old industry, rather than just allowing that industry to patch its rotting hide with their collected works.

3- What do you think about the advent of artificial intelligence? Do you fear for the future of animators?

I suspect true AI might just peace-out like ScarJo in "Her", but we're not there yet. What we have now isn't Artificial Intelligence at all (though I do believe it may be the underpinnings of the Artificial Suconscious of what may one day become an actual Artificial Intelligence.)

The LLMs and "Generative AI" are (so far) a big dumb waste. They consume tons of energy and aren't great for doing anything creative. If you've sat down with Chat GPT for a creative writing session, you've probably run into the "out of the box" limitations which prevent it from talking about sex or violence-- which happen to be a major component of most stories.

Still, the technology has come incredibly far in an incredibly short amount of time. I imagine we're going to hit the point where we're being hazed by artificially generated political ads way before Generative AI can produce a consistent and usable character turnaround, so that'll be the test. Whatever the legal fallout is from this stuff over the next few years will set the tone.

Still, studios have a vested interest in pleasing their shareholders. Generative AI potentially has the capability of not only replacing swaths of money-eating artists, but handing that control directly to the billionaire studio heads. Mark my words: We're headed straight for billionaire-generated content.

I don't think the public at large will want to watch Elon Musk's fever dreams, so there's that. So law and general distaste might stave it off for a while, but I think there's just too much impetus for studios to continue to try to please their investors. "AI Art" is here to stay.

Eventually that will lead to millions and millions of bots generating millions and millions of songs and paintings and movies all day every day. Most of it will be utter trash. Right now (so I'm told) viewers are already burnt out, and will generally only click on what they already know. On Netflix, where there are twenty things you've never heard of and one you have, you're more likely to pick the thing that gives you comfort and gives you a guarantee you're not wasting your time. With exponentially more A.I. trash, how would you even begin to filter it out?

You'd need absolute control of an already existing distribution system. We currently have a few of those, and all of the media companies are desperately trying to merge with them to insure their own survival.

To me, the post-Gen-AI landscape looks a lot like old-school Cable, but with endless I.P. and fewer masters.

4- If money wasn't a problem, would you still do what you do?

The real question is, maybe, "What am I even doing?" These days I try to do a lot of gardening. I'm trying to learn new art skills, because suddenly twenty five years of experience managing, drawing, and writing isn't worth much. I recently worked on Jellystone until Zaslav lost 2.5 billion in the wash and had to find justification for his new yacht. The show before that? Also culled midway through to save money. The days of multi-year gigs seem to be over, and if I'm going to scrape by doing freelance, maybe I can do that somewhere else.

I'll always make art. I can't seem to help it. Ideas aren't my problem-- it's executing those ideas without the help of a structured pre-existing system. I honestly don't know if I'll ever be able to pull that off. My strengths are great, but were always supported by friends I worked with.

Can I start an indie cartoon with all of these cool friends? Sure, maybe. Most of those people have gone on to have other careers of their own and got used to being paid. Now nobody is getting paid and no one can pay anyone else. My immediate circle are all now middle-aged people with families and no jobs. Convincing them to give up a large chunk of their day for an idea that's not guaranteed to pay off is going to take some real effort.

I technically have fifteen years until I can claim my "retirement", assuming that still exists by then. That's a pretty big hole to fill with... I don't know what.

The difficult "What comes next" discussions at home are really just starting.

5- Any animators you admire and would like to mention?

There are a lot of cool animation people out there. I already mentioned I was proud of Vivsie. I was also reminded recently just how great C.H. Greenblatt and Mr. Warburton are. I know they're my friends. They're both just really upstanding, creative people who take good care of their crews.

The treatment of animation industry professionals by the studio system has been one of the most demoralizing and heartbreaking parts of this demoralizing and heartbreaking time.

---

So there ya go. If you want to look for someone whose attitude is a little more upbeat, I won't blame you a bit.

Wherever you are, I wish you the best of luck. For me, just climb up there and crush it. I would very much like to add you to #5 someday.

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐬 || 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one: here || part two: money power glory

Summary_when Coriolanus promised to split the plinth prize with his best friend, he didn’t knew that would be enough reason for Dr. Gaul to transform you into an experiment.

Warnings_bff to enemies, asshole Coryo, violence, mutations, angst, fluff.

Note_ im back to my coriolanus shit, and nothing just listen to valley of the dolls and girl

♪ ♫ Coryo playlist ✰ Index (+ fics here)

_________________________________________

It was a dry fall day when Coriolanus and his family ran out of cabbage and potatoes. He was to go to Pluribus Bell and trade some belongings for food. He was a kid, and he had been struggling for a very long time now. The Capitol was slowly making its way back to what it was before the war, but it was taking longer than expected.

Tigris was out, trying to trade some of the gold earrings from Grandma’am for wood, for the upcoming winter.

At the rough age of twelve, Coriolanus Snow had been growing impatient to get older, get into University, and give his family a better life. He already knew how to disguise his lack of wealth and how to fit in with his classmates. Coriolanus had no friends, just people to blend in.

He carefully closed the door from Pluribus’ place when someone opened the door from inside, pulling him backward, and making him trip.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry- Coriolanus Snow?” He heard a soft female voice and when he stood up, he finally saw you.

“Y/n?…” He grew worried, wondering if any other classmates were around, hoping to be wrong, as he didn’t want to be seen.

“Hi…” you awkwardly said.

Coriolanus was indifferent to you. He disliked how he often heard you gossiping with your friends. He disliked how you always participated in debates and readings, finding it annoying. And most important, he knew you were born capitol but your family was once District 1 generations ago. You were no daughter of elite members.

“What are you doing here?” The boy asked.

You weren’t expecting to see him there. Pluribus’ customers were always… poor people, hungry. So when you saw the brown bag with two cabbages and some potatoes in Coriolanus’ bag, you didn’t even need to question.

“I come here to trade my mother’s designs for food.” Coriolanus never thought you were in a situation similar to him.

“My father served in the war, he got injured and couldn’t keep working, and my mother quit her job to take care of him. We don’t have much but we are surviving…” you added shamelessly, Coriolanus was jealous that you weren’t afraid of revealing the truth, something he couldn’t.

“I won’t tell anyone I saw you here, Coriolanus. If that’s what you want” you added after seeing him judging you quietly, giving a cold look. You had the idea of him being serious and a young man of few words, no doubt he was.

“Can I trust you?” He asked, thinking he sounded so dumb.

“I have no reason to spread details of your life. So yes, you can trust me…”

“Okay…”

“I live on the Corso…” you said and without thinking, Coriolanus smiled more than he should have.

“Me too!” His excited tone made you feel relieved.

“Can you imagine both of us living in the same place?” You asked cheerfully. Coriolanus doubted it.

“I don’t think so…”

Oh but how mistaken was he? Not only do you two live on the Corso, but you also live in the same building. He had the penthouse and your parents owned the floor below.

Coriolanus was taken aback by how calm and excited you were as you showed him your house.

The boy learned quickly that your family was doing better than his. You had a lot of things, your room had exotic wallpapers, and a lamp made of feathers was even affordable.

For the first time, Coriolanus felt like he could actually enjoy meeting someone new. Even better if it was in his safe space, his home, and the source of his identity.

And that’s how you turned out to be the only person Coriolanus allowed to know about his situation.

…

Exactly five years later, Coriolanus was coming back from the market where he had traded a watch for some black dressing pants. Even though the Plinth Prize had been only announced two days ago, Coriolanus was already thinking about clothing for the occasion. He was out of breath by the time he hit your floor. And he was not going to stop by your place but he grew curious when he saw you tending a big piece of dark grey crinkled fabric. You had your long hair curled up, wearing slippers, a nightgown, and a robe.

He smiled, wondering how important could that fabric be to not acknowledge him.

“What you got there?” You quickly looked up, slightly embarrassed that Coriolanus caught you in your pajamas.

“I know it’s early, but my mom and I had an idea for a set. In case you know-“ you feel like you sound very narcissistic, hinting that you could possibly win the Plinth prize. Coriolanus and you were exceptional in school. And the only “friends” you could count were Clemensia, Festus, and Sejanus, although they were slightly behind you and the blonde.

“I had the same idea,” Coriolanus said, walking closer, showing you the black pants in his arm.

You smile at him, feeling reassured that you both thought the same. You knew the young man judged you once. But now, he had no reason to. Or so you believed.

He was very close to turning eighteen in the first months of the approaching year, you had also thought about buying him a present.

“Come inside. I need to tell you something…” he nodded, but gulped, thinking the worst.

You shut the door and Coriolanus noticed it smelled sweet.

“Oh, I’m baking something… I would like to share it with you and your family” The boy blushed at you noticing how hungry he was and also because it was very kind of you to share given the circumstances.

“You don’t have to, y/n”

“But I want to.…” he rolled his eyes, chuckling, tenderly accepting your good intentions.

“I don’t have anything to give you back. But we made a promise. Remember?” You nod, smiling softly at him.

Coriolanus is your best friend. Although Clemensia, Festus, and even Arachne were close friends, no one compared to Coryo.

“I do, but…”

“No, y/n. No matter what, we are splitting the prize. Both of us are going to university together.” He seriously said.

In the most inconvenient way, Coriolanus had found an ally. He knew most of his classmates since he was a little child, but after getting to know you, he understood it wasn’t the same. He was grateful for having you.

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you. Sit…” Coriolanus walked towards your kitchen table. He realized your parents were gone. Which made him wonder where were they.

The place smelled like corn syrup and roses. Deep down, probably those two were his favorite things. He craved sweet things and the roses reminded him of his mother and her powder.

“So?…” he inquired, you were a little busy placing some towels on the table.

“My mother found a job in a fabric store, in a couple of weeks she’ll be able to refer Tigris. She’ll be able to leave the work with Fabricia” his eyes went wide, a smile immediately growing on his face.

“And not only that. My father accepted to work as a secretary in the offices of the Capitol’s congress” he couldn’t be jealous of the success of your parents when they were offering to help Tigris. He went up to give you a hug.

“That’s great news, dear” you hugged him back. He smelled like cedar and roses. You remembered the flowers his grandmother sent the day before.

“If things go right. My father could get us a job there after the Academy. And we’d have more money to pay the university’s tuition” he nodded, unconsciously hiding his face in your neck. The closure made you blush, it wasn’t like you and the boy hugged very often. But you appreciated it.

“I have faith we’ll have a bright future, Coryo. I really do”

“Thank you, for everything you and your family have done,” the blonde said.

“You are like family too. It’s nothing…” you reply, breaking the hug to check at the oven.

Coriolanus eyes you. He catches the smell of your hair, patchouli, and herbs. He smiles, looking at your clean face and old nightgown. He can’t deny you’ve grown into a gorgeous woman. But he blocks the thoughts from flowing further.

“I made bread pudding.” You knew it was his favorite.

And his smile only grew. When Tigris had the chance to steal from Fabricia and his waste, she made a classical bread pudding. But you were able to do a more sophisticated one. With cherry blossom powder that your mother had. The bread was more wet and less like fudge. Coriolanus loved it ever since he tried back two years during the holidays.

“I’m really liking this day” he admits, making you chuckle as you place the dessert literally in his face.

…

Reaping day wasn’t your favorite. You didn’t hate the districts but you didn’t like how they tried to destroy the Capitol. Nonetheless, the Hunger Games weren’t part of your fond morals. Having the privilege of being a mentor for the first time ever in the history of the games, wasn’t as exciting as it sounded. The only good thing is that it would lead to being closer to knowing who won the Plinth prize.

Months had passed and the day had finally arrived. You slipped into the two-piece set your mother made for you. A blazer and a long circle skirt in dark grey. An old pair of black boots that belonged to your grandmother and were in excellent condition, the leather felt nice and the heels added elegance to your outfit.

You never felt intimidated by not being part of the elite and being considered “poor” and it tore you to see Coriolanus feel like he wasn’t enough. Like the grate was of his last name had to loosen power.

So when you called him through the phone to see if he was ready, he said you should go first, showing a display of a little panic attack because Tigris hadn’t returned with the shirt he was to wear.

As much as you protested and said you would wait for him, he made you leave saying you couldn’t be late.

So you did.

When you stepped out of the building, you encountered Persephone, Coriolanus’ neighbor. The blonde had said once that Persephone and Clemensia were probably the prettiest girls from class. Which made you feel terrible but you ignored it from the moment it happened.

“Hey… Are you ready for today?” She asked.

“Yes… totally” You weren’t happy, to be honest, but you showed her your best smile.

“Why is Coriolanus not with you? He’s always attached to you…” the comment makes you smile nervously. Although you knew most of your classmates and had literally grown up along them, you never knew what kind of assimilation they had about you and Coriolanus.

“Oh, he woke up late. I wanted to wait for him, but he literally obliged me to go on” Persephone giggled, urging you to cross the street.

“That boy is head over heels for you…”

“Oh my goodness, Persephone. That’s not true…” she laughs, her lilac makeup and crimson lips making her look even more pretty.

“Trust me, y/n… There are even bets on the year you two will tie the knot!” Her comment makes you so embarrassed.

“We’re here!” You say changing the subject.

Heavensbee Hall is full of students and faculty. A lot of them say to you because it wasn’t a secret that your friendly demeanor and good grades made you more popular than Persephone.

When make it to the talk with Felix, Festus, and Arachne, you spot Clemensia entering the event along with Coriolanus.

At first glance, you tried to ignore the mixed feelings you caught after Persephone’s comments and seeing the man you quietly doted on the girl he considered the most beautiful.

“That can’t be y/n y/l/n! That’s a model!” you finally turn when you hear Clemmie, which makes you smile shyly.

Coriolanus finally spots you and he gulps. Every day, he saw you wearing opaque tones. He knew you craved vivid colors and exotic makeup, your mother was an unemployed fashion designer after all. Having the chance to wear elegant clothes and highlighting your skin with splotches of berry colors was a sight for Coriolanus. His hands felt sweaty and numb, a familiar feeling he started developing whenever you were close.

He walked straight towards you, taking a last sip of the posca he disliked. You smile at him, accommodating the rosebud attached to his heart. The action caught the attention of all your classmates and friends, who quietly gossiped or exchanged looks.

“That’s a gorgeous shirt, Coryo” he smiled.

“Tigris and your mother are my saviors” he whispered in your ear, which sent shivers to you.

You and your friends are called out to take a seat as the reaping is about to start. You end up seated between Coriolanus and Sejanus. And suddenly you find yourself lost in your thoughts, wondering who you would be mentoring. It’s all you could truly think about since you woke up. But suddenly, Coriolanus makes you come back to life.

“It’s going to be okay…” he said to which you replied with a little smile.

“By the way, you look very pretty…” your heart pounds as he whispers in your ear for the second time. Your smile grows along the blush creeping on your face.

“Really?” You feel so stupid after asking that. You didn’t want him to think you needed validation.

“Every day you look pretty, but I rarely see you with color in your face” he admits and it sends you to death the fact that he proceeded to grab your hand and give it a squeeze.

He didn’t know why he did that, but it felt right.

Something weird happened, you both felt a spark.

…

Watching kids fighting for their lives in the most gruesome way wasn’t appealing. Your eyes are on the little girl from District 8, your tribute; Wovey. The last time you saw her in the zoo before the games started, she made you cry so badly. She was just a little girl and the fact that she had smiled at you, saying how beautiful your dress was, made you understand every word Sejanus said.

The districts deserved to pay? Yes. But why not make them pay extra taxes, or limit their supplies? Why do you have to scavenge food for a little girl who is likely to die?

Sejanus had walked out after seeing what happened to his tribute. The bloodbath had been disgusting to watch. And as the hours pass as you sit along Coriolanus and other classmates watching your tributes, the weight of the events that happened on the previous days hit you. The moment you saw the rainbow-ruffled skirt from Lucy Gray Baird, you knew it would mark a before and after.

It was like her appearance in Coriolanus’ life had worsened everything for everyone surrounding him. First was Arachne, then Clemensia, whose image still haunted you with the scales and yellow eyes. Then the rebel bombing. It had been a long time since felt fear. You felt alone because you protected Wovey. But nobody protected you. The blurred sight of Coriolanus clinging to the ruffles of Lucy Gray’s skirt and calling for her as the medics took him away was very present.

You look down at your lap, the skirt of the uniform was on, but not the pants, since your leg was still bandaged from the burns you suffered the day of the bombing.

There’s a drift between you and Coriolanus since the day of the reaping. He appeared at the zoo and at night told you it wasn’t planned, he practically ignored you whenever he visited Lucy Gray but squeezed your hand the day of Arachne’s funeral. He confided to you what happened with Clemensia but refused to console you when she appeared in the hospital while you took care of Coriolanus.

The only good thing is that your parents were making a name. They were getting popular and you loved seeing them happy. Unfortunately, just as they were finding happiness, you were losing it.

You kept losing friend after friend. Clemensia ignored you moments before the games started. Arachne was gone, and Sejanus looked beyond depressed. And Coriolanus was falling for District scum.

How could he even inquire if the songbird was almost Capitol during the interviews?

Maybe you were a hypocrite for claiming Sejanus as a friend, who once was District and called it his home. But you despised Lucy Gray for wearing the clothes and makeup you craved, for being naturally charming and unconsciously revolving around most of your problems.

You have been quiet for hours, only having eyes for little Wovey.

Coriolanus glances at you frequently. And he can see the sad look on your face. He couldn’t ignore you had been changed since the reaping. The happy and positive girl he knew was slowly morphing into some lost panicked mentor.

The moment the games started, Coriolanus realized how hard it was for you to look after Wovey, one of the youngest tributes he had seen. The guilt of being such a bad friend started rubbing him in the wrong way.

Which is why he found himself constantly looking at you to see how you were doing.

But when he looks back, you’re gone. Most of the people watching the first day are gone.

It’s just Dr. Gaul telling him Sejanus entering the arena.

…

The tension was escalating. Coriolanus couldn’t sleep, not even with the cold shower that resulted nice for the heat. All he could think was about Sejanus and him running for their lives. He killed a boy. There was blood on his hands. He desperately called you but you didn’t answer. He went to bed thinking of Lucy Gray hiding in the arena and you practically ignoring him. And just when he was about to doze off with the memory of the kiss Lucy Gray gave him, his eyes opened abruptly.

He remembered the promise you two made.

When he walked back to Heavensbee Hall for the second day of the games, he could hear Lucky Flickerman giving the broadcast. He went straight to you, firstly noticing how you caressed your knuckles, showing that you were anxious.

“Could you sleep?” He asked, taking a seat beside you. You glanced at him, only to bow your head, back to your knuckles.

“I took some pills…” he frowned, confused.

“Pills?…”

“It’s nothing, Coryo. Just melatonin pills, to help me sleep well.” He nodded, not fully convinced.

“I’m sorry for being… distant,” he said, to which you shrugged, crossing your arms.

“It’s okay. We all have acquired different problems since the reaping. You have just been busy with your rainbow girl” Your tone distilled bitterness when you mentioned Lucy Gray, which didn’t go unnoticed by Coriolanus.

“When one of the two of us wins, it’ll be like before, but better.” he knew it wouldn’t.

“It’ll never be the same. Arachne is gone, Clemesia out of herself, Sejanus defying Gaul, the Ring twins' death… You’re already changing” he quickly took your hand, ignoring the way some people could be looking at him.

“I’m not. We’re family… you’re special. And I will always fight for you, y/n” his comment lit a fire inside you. You give him a little smile. But he knows you’re still blue.

Right when he was closer to admitting he had feelings for you, Lucy Gray appeared, withdrawing any plan he could have. And now he was confused about you.

Perhaps you only saw him as your best friend. Which is why he didn’t suppress the emotions Lucy Gray made him feel.

…

No-no, no, no, no, no… NO!

Every mentor and attendant in Heavensbee Hall heard you whisper until you literally screamed. The little Wovey had drank the water with poison. Tears immediately swelled in your eyes and you stood up, splashing the room with sorrow.

Even Capitol people felt emotional about the little girl slowly dying unbeknownst to her. Even Livia Cardew looked at you with empathy when you walked past her.

Even Clemensia, briefly looked at Coriolanus silently asking if she should go to follow you, but he told her he was going.

And he did. He followed you outside the room, finding you on one of the stairs leading to another hallway. Your hands covered your face, but he could hear you sobbing.

You felt terrible. You knew Wovey was likely to die, but that didn’t stop the pain. Adding all the strong emotions you’ve dealt with in the past days made you explode.

You just wanted your best friend. Regardless of his unrequited feelings, you needed him.

And he magically appeared.

When you wiped your eyes, he approached you. He took a seat beside you and caressed your shoulder.

“You’re not okay.” He said, to which you shook your head.

“I’m feeling the same as you. Only that I’m a crier and you’re not…” Coriolanus briefly smiled, appreciating your profile.

He faced the woman who knew all of him. The only woman that could ever understand him. And the only one who would care for him enough aside from his family.

“You were closer to Arachne than me. With Clemensia too. And your tribute was closer to being a baby again than she was to become a teenager…” new tears poured down and Coriolanus cursed himself for making you cry again.

“Is she finally gone?…” he nodded at you.

“You have to win, Coryo. You must win… This suffering must be worth it for one of us at least”

“If I win, you’re also in. We said it the day the prize was announced. We’re in this together…” Once again, he grabbed your hand again. And just when he was about to move away because you weren’t reciprocating the touch, you caressed his fingers, interlocking your hand with his.

“Lately I’ve been missing you a lot…” you confessed and it nearly made him blush.

“Why?…” it was dumb but he needed to hear something, he needed to comprehend.

“Well…. Because I need you, Coriolanus” his heart thumping and shaky hands prevented him from doing something stupid, but he offered you a lovely smile that you reciprocated.

He was about to say… “I need you too, y/n. Let me kiss you so I can accept whatever I feel for Lucy Gray is a whim”.

But he couldn’t. Because Festus appeared, looking for you two.

“Dr. Gaul wants you two back…” he said.

“Thanks, Festus” you thanked him.

And all the way to the room of commands, Coriolanus held your hand.

When the snakes landed on the arena of the games, Coriolanus stood up. When Lucy Gray was officially the winner, he went running to Tigris. But when he spun to hug you, he didn’t contain.

He grabbed your face and leaned to kiss you. The crowd cheered even harder, believing you two would officially begin a romance after years of uncertainty. You kissed him back, savoring the moment and feeling glad you didn’t give up on him.

“We won, y/n.” He whispered in your lips.

“We won, Coryo” You smiled, out of breath, and kissed him again.

…

His brain wasn’t thinking clearly. Coriolanus had messed up everything. He was being punished for his lies. Serving as a peacekeeper and leaving the Capitol was one thing. But for 20 years?

Perhaps he could follow Lucy Gray to District 12, just to see how was she. But 20 years was too long… especially when you were the woman he intended to marry one day.

He could say goodbye to his place in the University, he could say goodbye to paying the tax of his home. And he certainly could say goodbye to you.

But his biggest fear was that he slipped out you had the idea of the rat poison. Coriolanus was aware you said it vaguely, and he never told you he actually cheated.

As he walked out of Highbottom’s office, completely downcast, wondering how he would break down the news.

“Hey… Are you okay?” His nervousness grew as he watched you walk escorted by two peacekeepers.

“What are you doing?” You shrugged.

“Dr. Gaul wants to see me…” Coriolanus frowned. Was the lunatic going to punish you?

“And you? What are you doing here?” he bit his tongue. He couldn’t tell you yet. But probably it would be worse to wait and tell you in the morning, just when he was supposed to leave for the districts.

“The dean… he wanted to talk to me about the disbursement of the prize”

The guilt started killing him the moment you smiled at him. You leaned, stepped on your tiptoes, and gave him a gentle peck.

It took him by surprise, but caressed your cheeks and kissed you back.

“I’ll see you at home?….” He nodded, pressing his forehead with yours, knowing he probably wouldn’t see you again. His eyes watered and he tried to stop time.

But it was inevitable because you gave him one last smile and you passed by him, followed by the peacekeepers.

Chills assaulted him, but he thought everything was going to be okay. At least for you.

…

For a couple of days, he was able to forget about you. But soon when Sejanus asked how were, the guilt felt like a bucket of ice blocks falling all over him.

He lied, saying you were okay. But Lucy Gray knew he wasn’t being truthful. Coriolanus confessed to her. The songbird found it very hard to admit that Coriolanus’ true love was you. Perhaps he followed her to her home, he was making her happy. But the blonde was Capitol, he would always prefer his people and his girl.

“You have waited too long, darling. Please call her and at least apologize” she said throwing some rocks at the lake in front of them.

“She’s probably mad at me…”

“More the reason to fight for her” Coriolanus glanced at her confused. But Lucy Gray rolled her eyes playfully.

“Look…” she reached for a purple flower. She cut it and showed it to Coriolanus.

“From what I’ve heard of y/n… is that she is important. You said once she’s your best friend. Think of her like this flower, which is a hydrangea. They have medicinal properties and they are very pretty… but they’re delicate. So I think you would prefer to keep her nurtured. Because she’s special…” Coriolanus sighed.

He couldn’t say to Lucy Gray he was scared of losing you because it would mean that all he did the moment he bribed the secretary of the military deferment wasn’t worth it. He came to the twelve because he wanted to be with Lucy Gray, but he had some unresolved feelings for you.

It was so confusing.

“I’ll call her tomorrow during my break…” Lucy Gray nodded, knowing that after that call many things could change. But it was the right thing to do. Because you were innocent.

…

The jabberjays awakened something inside him. The possibility of finding a reason to be sent back to the Capitol sounded very attractive. But all was forgotten when he requested to call your apartment. In the same building, he called home.

He gulped nervously before a female voice picked up the call. Your mother.

“Hello?” She asked.

“Mrs. Y/l/n… It’s Coriolanus” she sighed, the blonde could almost see her nodding.

“Oh, Coriolanus. What a surprise to hear from you…”

“I guess y/n told you I was sent to serve as a peacekeeper” he admitted, surprised to hear your mother didn’t want to kill him for hurting you.

��Coriolanus… y/n has been sick since the day the hunger games closed” he frowned, holding the phone closer to his ear.

“What?…”

“Apparently she was working in the laboratories in the Citadel with Dr. Gaul. She caught a virus and has been quarantined. I’m so desperate to see her again. Her father has been asking but Dr. Gaul says she’ll be fine in a couple of weeks.”

Coriolanus immediately thought back on Clemensia and the “flu” she caught. But now, it was ten times worse.

Did Gaul punish you for helping him to cheat in the games? Were you dead?

His hands started shaking.

“As soon as I’m back in the Capitol. I’ll try to ask for more information. She’ll be okay…” he tried to soothe your mother, but he was already freaking out.

So he didn’t have situate to send jabberjays with the recording of Sejanus revealing his rebel plans. All so he could go back to you.

…

He didn’t regret it. Because as soon as he stepped into the Citadel, back at home, it felt right.

“Welcome back to the Capitol, Mr. Snow,” said Dr. Gaul, tending her water mutts and giving him a sadic smile.

He stood silent for a couple of seconds. Debating whether to ask you or not.

“I know what you’re thinking about, boy,” she said, walking down the stairs of the mutt's cage.

Coriolanus remained silent, carefully eyeing her.

“She couldn’t get away if she was also guilty for putting in your head that silly idea for you to cheat during the games” he gulped, nervous.

“Have you talked with her parents?”

“Just with her mother once. They think she’s sick and will be fine in a couple of weeks. But they’re worried…” he admitted, trying to act relaxed.

“Oh sure they are worried. I heard the man is going straight to the president’s cabinet. And the mother, already spreading her wings in the fashion tendencies…” Coriolanus wasn’t aware that during his time away your parents had spent all of their time working to try to not worry too much about you. To gain power and find a quicker way to be with you.

“I didn’t know…”

“She was very angry when she learned you had lied to her…”

How was he supposed to keep his composure with that talk?

“I never intended to hurt her” he hated to admit that. He couldn’t be vulnerable. But it crumbled just because it was about you.

“Ah, young love. It’s so dangerous because it makes us weak…”

“Is she alive?…” he tried to change the subject.

“You just have to say you want her back and she’ll be in the Capitol’s hospital in a couple of days” he grew more worried.

“She can’t die… or stop being her”

“The snakes in your other friend really triggered you…” Gaul mocked, laughing.

With that lunatic mentoring him, he had to pull out a stronger card. Something that would compromise him as well so she had no choice but to let you go at once.

“I intend to marry her.” The woman stopped laughing, only to look at him, trying to find the lie in his words, but there wasn’t.

“Brave girl to conquer the heart of a Snow…” and with that, she started walking towards another room in the big laboratory.

The room of voxels and human mutations. He grew anxious until Dr. Gaul pointed out a big water tank.

Coriolanus holds a big breath of terror. He tries his best to remain still. But he felt fear. Just when he thought nothing could ever hurt him again, he had to encounter you in the worst possible way.

“What a shame, she was responding very well. Even looks like a mythological monster”

“Is she going to be… human again?”

“With patience, yes. I’ll let you know when we move her to the hospital. It would be nice if you gave the news to her parents. You know, given you’re the reason she almost ended up with a mermaid tail.”

There rested your naked unconscious body, almost completely covered in salmon scales. Your legs seemed to be slowly disappearing, as the scales were tangling them from your hips to your knees. Your hair was matted and your lashes seemed oddly long.

Coriolanus walked home. He couldn’t take the trolley. The walk seemed short, even with the approaching winter. Your image was haunting him. He couldn’t keep the secret to Tigris when he came back home. He pretended to have a giant smile on his face when he blurted that the Plinths made him heir of their fortune. And he tried to ignore the memory of the elevator indicating the name of your floor.

“But she’s going to be okay?” Tigris asked worried.

“Dr. Gaul said so…”

“I thought she was busy trying to get into the university… her parents rarely appeared to be around too”

Coriolanus remembered what he said back in the laboratory.

“I told Dr. Gaul I’m marrying her” Her cousin opened her eyes in disbelief.

“So she could release her?”

“Yes. But also because… I always thought of it.”

“Are you conscious she’s likely to be mad at you for leaving without answers?” Coriolanus nodded, knowing very well you had plenty of reasons to hate him. But there was no going back.

”Very aware…”

“Then you’ll show her again the fine man you are. You remind her why you were best friends.” He was no good man. He killed people to get to the top. But he wouldn’t be that man to you. You were the only one who could possibly understand him and keep his filthy secrets.

“Snow lands on top” Tigris whispered.

Coriolanus turned to look at a picture of you. He and his family love you so much, you had your own portrait in the Snow Penthouse. The first your mother designed was pink and you wore it. You were always very pretty to the eyes of everyone. But only at that moment Coriolanus appreciated your beauty. The he looked at another picture, the one of you two during the reaping ceremony. His tailored shirt and your handmade clothes. That girl and boy were long gone.

But Coriolanus had done so much damage to step back. With Sejanus and Highbottom gone, he had secured a place in the Capitol. Lucy Gray couldn’t hurt him anymore. All he had to do was to win the girl that once belonged to him.

Giving one last look at the picture of you two, he smiled.

“Snow lands on top…” he answered back to Tigris.

_________

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Machinist 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible bullying, misogyny, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your new boss sets his sights on you. (short!reader)

Characters: August Walker

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

You take your lunch where you always do; outside. You don’t like to sit inside all day, especially after sweating amid sparks flying from dozens of torches and grinding wheels and the like. The metals walls do little to let the heat out, so it is that you greet the sunshine and fresh breeze with a sigh. 

You find your way to your truck and unlock the back, climbing up to sit in the open bed as you unzip your lunchbox. You have your standard fare; some carrots, hummus, and a tuna sandwich. Nothing fancy or special. Just what you have time to throw together in the morning. 

You watch the distant skyline as you chew. Insects buzz in the air and you swat away a nosy fly. The smell of pollen underlines the lingering scent of singed metal and your own sweat. You enjoy the small moment to yourself, with the barely muffled noise of drills, wheels, and hollers all around. 

You dip your last carrot and close up the container of hummus. You wipe the lingering garlicky smear from your fingertips and zip away your leftovers and the used napkin. You push your head back to stretch your neck and loosen the stitch between your shoulders. 

“You’re prettier in the sunlight,” the rocky voice brings your chin back down. 

August approaches as you clutch your lunch box against your lap. You don’t know how to respond without putting your job in the balance, so you don’t. You push yourself to the edge of the truck bed but he’s quick. He’s right in front of you, close enough that you can’t jump down. 

“This your truck?” He muses as he gives it an emphatic look, “not too bad. Bit big for you, girl. Ah, but maybe you like handling big things.” 

His insinuation repulses you. He was rude before but now he’s just being gross. Doesn’t matter. Who are you gonna tell? Who’s going to care?

“Excuse me, my lunch is almost over,” you say as you teeter on the edge. 

“I’m sure the boss won’t mind,” he grins boastfully. 

“Really, I got a lot of work--” 

“I never heard about your promotion,” he intones. 

You stop short and bite back your words, “promotion?” 

“Right, you must’ve got one since you’re telling me what to do,” he challenges, crossing his arms to make himself even bigger. 

“I wasn’t. I’m trying to go back to work.” 

“I didn’t dismiss you,” he sneers. 

You ease back and nod. This isn’t the first time a man’s postured at you, it won’t be the last. You’ll let him get his rocks off. 

“Sure,” you nod. 

“Hmph,” he looks you up and down, “it always makes me wonder why women wander into metal shops. Really? You like being sweaty,” he steps even closer and you wince as he reaches and drags his thumb down your cheek, “dirty? I can think of better ways for that.” 

“Sir,” you say flatly. 

He trails his thumb down and presses on your bottom lip, “I’m new around here. Need someone to show me around. How about it?” 

You scowl and rip your mouth away from his hand, “you can’t be serious?” 

“Do I look like I’m fucking kidding?” He slowly pulls his arm back, crossing it once more across his chest, “what I know about this town is there’s no other fucking shop looking for tool and die, and let me tell you, princess, you’ll find they don’t pay pennies next to what I pay.” He brings a hand up to brush the short stubble darkening his jaw, “actually, we’re due for salary review. That’s what the finance officer tells me.” 

You understand his threat. Even if he doesn’t fire you, he can mess with your money. All the leering men, all their nasty words, wouldn’t be worth it if you didn’t get a half-decent cut. 

“Can your precious little head understand me?” His mouth slants in a half-smirk. 

“Not that difficult,” you hiss out.  

“Great, sounds like a plan, princess.” 

Before you can react, he steps forward. He grabs you by the waist and drags you forward on the open door of the truck bed. You yelp in surprise and bat his wrists, your lunch box bouncing out of your grasp onto the ground. He holds you to hover on the edge before he lowers you to the ground, crowding you. 

“Good girl,” he growls and squeezes before he lets you go. 

You struggle not to snarl outright. He takes a step back, not far enough. You turn your attention to your errant bag and bend to pick it up. 

“Mmm, I like that position,” he purrs. 

You snap up and tamp down your irritation. You wish you could say he’s the first man to be so disgusting but that would be a miracle. Especially in this line of work. He’s just the only one you can’t tell to go fuck himself. 

You face him, “can I go back to work?” 

“Mm, look at you, learning already; asking permission,” he clicks his tongue, “sure, go on, princess.” 

You hold back a shudder and turn to close the truck door. You toss your lunch bag over it. Whatever. 

You spin and stomp away, refusing to look back at him, even as you feel his gaze bearing down on you. You feel even more filthy than before. Not just because of his behaviour but your own weakness. You should say no, you should go work at the Pizza Hut, at least there, you can spit in the food of every ass who gives you lip. 

As you cross the yard towards the shop, you slow down. Your eyes meet those of Carey. He started at the same time as you. He asked you out. Several times. He glowers and narrows his eyes.

He looks at the other guys sat around him at the smokers’ table. They saw it. You know they did.

“All the fucking same, aren’t they?” He spits into the dirt as the other men look in your direction. “Cozying up to the boss to get a few extra bucks on her check.” He flicks his butt towards you as you near the door, “whatsa a matter, baby? You need some new panties? Oh, maybe you’re gonna buy a dress? Start dressing like a woman, huh?” 

The other guys chortle and you ignore them. They don’t matter. That’s the difference between them and August. He can actually ruin your life, they only wish they could. 

[eternal-evergreens]

Hello! I stumbled across your post “jjk men as yandere” and I really enjoy both your thoughts and writing style.

I would truly appreciate if you wrote any scenario involving yandere Geto with reader (sorcerer).

Thank you if you even consider writing it<3

A/N Thanks so much!!

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧"Meet Cute" ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

Post format: Drabble

Pairing: Yandere!Suguru Geto x GN!Curse user!Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: Reader is morally bankrupt, mentions of eugenics/genocide, reader is a little too into WWII, minor age gap, super greedy reader

"You're like a modern-day Hitler, huh?"

"...What?" Geto looked at you with wide eyes, putting down his to-go cup to better gape at you.

"Well, you are advocating for mass genocide and literal eugenics," you say, taking an unbothered sip of your own coffee. (Geto recommended the place. Apparently, his kids like the hot chocolate there. You'll have to ask him for the name of the place later.) "So, yeah, you're like Hitler."

Geto appears to be having a crisis of some sort. Just sort of staring down at his lap with an unreadable look on his face. You watch with amusement. This kid must be a newbie, you think—not that you're much older than him, but you at least have seniority on this.

"What, are you getting cold feet? You've already killed people, you know. If you want to make it in this career, you're gonna have to get real comfortable being compared to some pretty terrible things."

"I'm used to being called terrible things, it's just—"

"Oh, what? Like monster?" Geto says nothing, and you sigh, reclining back in your chair. (Damn, this cult has some nice shit. You wonder if you can sneak the couch out without anyone noticing?) "So unoriginal. Anyway keep your chin up. It's actually a good thing. Hitler already exists, so you can steal his ideas."

"Weren't you just complaining about something being unoriginal?" You wave your hand dismissively.

"That was then, this is now. Anyway what do you think? Hitler industrialized murder. You can do the same—if you can get the right ingredients."

"You're talking about power, right?"

"Pretty much. You'll need hands and money. And a lot of both. With that in mind, this cult is actually a perfect setup. But putting that aside," you take another sip of your drink. Empty. Damn it. "You didn't call me here just so I could give you my professional opinion, did you?"

Geto smiles. "I hear you'll do anything for money."

"I don't come cheap, you know."

"That's not a problem," he snaps his fingers, and someone, a "monkey" from the looks of it, walks in, clearly struggling with the weight of whatever's in that giant briefcase. You suppress a smile as it's placed on the table and opened. Hundreds, no, thousands of ¥10,000 notes line the briefcase from top to bottom. You nearly salivate from just looking at it. Quickly, you check for any signs of deceit, of counterfeits, empty space, or otherwise. You can't find anything.

"You'll find this briefcase contains over one billion yen." Geto says, gesturing for his...indentured servant to close the case. How many bills is that? It's gotta be over a million. You're half tempted to take the money and run, but years of experience have taught you not to underestimate guys carrying this much cash. "I trust this is sufficient?"

"That depends on the job," you say, crossing your arms. "If you want me to take out Satoru Gojo, you'll need to multiply it a hundredfold before I even consider it."

"It's nothing that severe," he says, wearing the smile of a polished businessman. You sit up a little straighter. Maybe you were wrong about this guy being an amateur. Whatever he wants you to do, it's bad news. You feel excitement tingling in your veins. Will he ask you to take out a city? A country? Considering the scale of his plans, you wouldn't be surprised if he wanted you to take out a continent... you'd need a bit more to do something like that, though.

"I want you to marry me."

You snort, then laugh. You laugh for a very long time, even holding your stomach as you bend over in your seat. If this was a ploy to make you let your guard down long enough to kill you, it was smart. Still, you wouldn't go down that easily. You're more than confident enough in your ability to defend yourself, even in such a hilarious encounter.

Finally, the laughter dies down, and you wipe a tear from your eye. You look up at Geto's face, only for him to look back at you oddly serious. "No way..." you murmur, "are you for real?"

"I'm afraid I am," he says. Your smile drops. How annoying. What's this guy even want from you, huh?

"So, what, that money's a dowry?"

"More like a bribe."

"Uh-uh. No way. Not happening. I can't take a job like that."

"You're not even going to ask what's in it for me?"

"Not interested," you say, grabbing your bag and standing.

"I think I ought to tell you anyway," he says, throwing a sack onto the table. A stack of yen falls out, and you eye it with a raised eyebrow. "That's my payment for listening," he says. "¥200,000."

You inspect the fallen stack. Once again, it's real. He's either crazy or plotting something, and you have a hunch it's the latter. You sit back down. Whatever he's thinking, it's definitely bad news. Even so, you need more information to properly deal with it.

"I've heard you're the sole caretaker of four siblings." He shouldn't know that, but you decide not to derail the conversation by asking. "As you know, I've got two little girls of my own."

"So, what? You need a babysitter?"

"Precisely."

"Okay, but why marriage? Surely you could just hire me as a nanny and be done with it?"

"The girls don't trust strangers easily. I already told them that I had a Fiance out of town who'd be coming back soon. Just play along with it and you'll be compensated accordingly." "For how long?"

"Just until they turn eighteen."

"You'll have to pay me more." "What I showed you earlier was just a down payment; you'll also get an annual salary of fifteen million."

"Make it twenty."

"How's forty?" he says. You ponder over it for a moment. Judging from how you saw things earlier, it seems like he does genuinely love those kids. He's young and not afraid of spending, which would make you worry about the sustainability of the job, but cults are famous for making tons of cash.

"How old are they?"

"Six." So, twelve years. Counting the initial (over) one billion, the listening fee of two hundred thousand, and the annual salary times twelve, you'll be paid over ¥1,480,200,000. That's more than enough to send your siblings to college, as well as set them up for life.

"Deal," you say, reaching your hand out to shake. You'd ask why he doesn't just hire someone more qualified, but you think that speech on 'monkeys' he gave you answers the question.

"It's getting late," he says, shaking your hand. "How about I take you to dinner?"

"Why?"

"My girls are smart. They'll realize something's up if we don't know anything about each other," he says, standing.

"This isn't coming out of my salary, right?" Geto, or, you suppose you should be calling him Suguru, now, chuckles.

"I'm not nearly that stingy," he says. He holds out his arm to escort you, and you take it. "I'll need your ring size, too."

Of course, he already knows it. That, and so much more. After all, this may be your first time meeting him, but he's already met you plenty of times.

"Sure, but I'm not paying. Also, if you get me an ugly one I'm selling it."

"We'll go together, then." For some reason, the smile on his face seems a little too genuine to be meant for someone he's only just met, but you pay it no mind. Money is money, after all.

"Oh, what about living arrangements?"

"You and your siblings will live here," he says. "You'll have to sleep in the same bed as me, I'm afraid. Just to keep up the illusion."

"Do I get a bonus for that?"

"You're hurting my feelings," he says.

[daenysx]

Hey bby, what about more old money aemond? i loved himm

i love him too!! you can send more for old money aemond if you want, i'd happily try and write for him <33333

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

"maybe we should have some coffee." you tell aemond. "i don't think i can stay on my feet, i'll probably fall asleep during the speeches."

aemond holds your waist, the suit he's wearing fits him perfectly. his hair is straightened, falls on his shoulders gracefully, and he chose his tie matching with your dress. his thumb rubs a slow circle on you, you lean towards him without meaning to.

"if you feel so tired, we can stay at home." he says, pulling you for a half hug. his arm covers your shoulders and he helps you lean to his chest. you can give all your weight to him and he'd happily hold you.

"your mother says it's important." you tell him with a hushed voice. "it's the event before the winter gala of starks, she told me they'll probably announce new deals tonight."

you are close with alicent and aemond knows how his mother likes to keep up their appearances nice in business. she talks to you about this stuff, your interests and career options lie elsewhere but you still engage closely to aemond's job. you care about the opportunities, how other people view targaryens, and all the things that come with these.

"that's right." aemond agrees, his lips making a straight line on your hair as he gives you a faint kiss. "still, it's nothing more important than your wellbeing. i got people to handle things for us."

you wrap your arms around his waist. your heels must hurt you if you're tired, aemond thinks, but you look gorgeous in this dark blue dress. people get affected by you, he knows, the way you carry yourself in a room and your gentle yet clever eyes. they will try to talk to you tonight, maybe ask you about aemond and his family, or maybe about what you plan on doing with your degree.

he wants to stay at home with you, alone.

"it's good if they see you in person." you say, his heart beating under your ear. "can i get a cup of coffee, please?"

he makes an eye contact with one of his assistants who checks some stuff on his laptop. you stay pressed against aemond until your coffee arrives, his hand is a comfort on your back.

"i actually have something for you." aemond says, you take a step back to see him. "um- it was ready a few days ago actually but i thought you'd like to see it now, after you told me you'll wear a low neck dress tonight."

nothing about this is surprising, aemond always does that. he finds new excuses to buy you gifts, anything he thinks you'll like. the velvet box he gets from the table reveals a diamond necklace, it looks like it's made for the dress you're wearing right now. it'll make your collarbones show more then they already do, you love the idea.

"this is perfect." you tell him honestly, amazed by how well he knows you. "thank you, my love."

"can i help you wear it?"

it looks just like aemond imagined on you before, you're suddenly free of sleep and drowsiness. your coffee arrives silently. you hold aemond's hand, his elegant fingers make it easier to stay on your feet.

he leans down a bit to kiss your collarbone. you fix his hair with soft fingers. "you need to drink your coffee before it gets cold." he says before kissing below your ear. "we can leave when you finish."

[alphajocklover]

Genie Glory the Game

(A [Very Late] Trade with @bigwishes. I hope you like it!) 43 followers. Rich Donaldson, also known as TF2Twink on Twitch, had 43 followers.Rich had been streaming for over 3 years now and only had 43 followers. 43 measly followers. It made him feel pathetic. It made him feel like he was useless. Yet at the same time, Rich was incredibly grateful for every one of those followers. 

Rich Donaldson had wanted to become a gaming streamer since he was a kid. It hadn’t really been a real thing until he was a teen, and most people thought he was crazy for thinking he could make money that way. Some people doubted it was a real job, some thought it was too competitive, some thought it was just a dumb idea in general. No matter what the reason, everyone in Rich’s life agreed that Rich wasn’t going to make it as a streamer. Especially his hyper religious, video game hating parents. Still Rich refused to give up. He knew it would be hard, maybe impossible, but he was passionate and felt like he had to follow his dream. That was what everyone in the movies did after all. Rich moved out, cut contact with his parents, went into debt buying the best streaming gear he could… and immediately regretted it. Rich didn’t mind losing contact with his parents. They had never been the most loving people, so he hadn’t really lost much. Except things weren’t working out like they did in the movies. Rich wasn’t making it, and worse than that he wasn’t getting any better at streaming. He was good at the games, so he knew that wasn’t the issue. The issue was… he was incredibly, painfully, horribly shy. Rich didn’t have the confidence that a streamer needed. He could barely get a word out during the stream without starting to awkwardly ramble, and even when he did he came off as awkward and weird. He wasn’t just unconfident, he was a downright nervous wreck. Still he didn’t give up. He couldn’t after everything he had thrown away to get this chance… all the sleepless nights working part time jobs to stay above water… he was in too deep. So he kept going “Hey chat! S-so t-today…” Rich took a deep breath, trying his best not to ramble “T-today I’m going to be playing a new game. I-it’s not very well known, but i-it looked cool and I’ve heard a lot of people are playing it… S-so let's get into ‘Genie Glory the Game!” Rich said, trying to be excited. Barely anyone was watching, and it was getting hard to pretend he wasn’t incredibly depressed, but he kept smiling. Genie Glory was a pretty simple game with a simple premise that had been baffling gamers for months. It was a pretty simple idea based on a classic scenario. You play a random guy who has discovered a genie’s lamp and now has 3 wishes. You make a wish by typing it into the computer, and the genie grants the wish, but usually in some twisted way that is accompanied by a pixelated animation of the player's fate. The goal is to get through all 3 wishes alive. What made the game so popular was that no one had beat it yet. Whatever AI the game used was incredibly clever and strangely creative, and to make it even more difficult, the game only allowed you to play it once. Popular streamers, actually geniuses, and even philosophers hadn’t been able to beat the game, so Rich knew beating it would make him famous.

“Ok chat. I-it’s time for our first wish… And I’m taking suggestions…” Rich said. Rich wanted to beat the game, but… he wasn’t sure how to beat this game, so he’d take all the help he could get. A few suggestions actually came across the screen ‘BasedBro69: Wish for your muscles to grow!’

‘GenieGay33: No way, that's the way to open ended! The Genie will make him grow until he pops or something’

‘MissTaken27: That's such a basic idea. Might as well ask him to wish to be a frat boy or something.’

Rich laughed at this. He knew most of his followers' usernames by heart, but BasedBro69 was new. Still the conversation he had started was kind of funny, and he figured… why not? “Ok then, why not! Lets make me a frat boy!” He said, snickering as he typed in his computer. He tried to be as specific as possible to avoid the spell being twisted “‘I wish I was an attractive, stereotypical frat boy.”

Rich laughed as he watched the pixelated version of himself grow muscular, his clothing changing to a tank top and backwards cap. He watched as the other version of him rushed a frat. Rich was certain something would go wrong, afterall he knew from first hand experience that hazing could get fucking intense, but surprisingly his character survived and got through the first wish without any incident. Rich grinned widely. Most people never even made it through the first wish, but he, a relative nobody, had managed! He stood up straighter as he watched people start to flood into the stream. He checked the chat happily. ‘GenieMan33: He actually made it with that wish? I’ll never understand this game, but good for you!’ ‘MisterRichD27: Kind of an ironic wish considering you are a frat boy. No offense.’ ‘BasedBro69: I fucking knew that would work bro! You can do this!’

Rich blushed slightly at MisterRichD27’s comment, and his flirty name. While he didn’t tend to think of himself that way, he was technically a frat boy. He had joined one after heading to college in the hopes of finding some friends. His frat brothers could be… kind of obnoxious, and very stereotypical, but they had helped him come out of his shell somewhat and even get in shape. He was still fairly shy, but he never would have gotten this far in college or with his streaming if it wasn’t for them. He chuckled at the chat, slightly embarrassed “I’ll admit, that was a weird wish, but hey, it worked so who cares!” Rich said cheerily “Ok, so what's the next wish going to be? I’m trusting you on this chat!” Rich said with what he hoped was a charming wink. ‘GenieMan33: Maybe something basic like money? That doesn’t usually work but you seem to be on a hot streak.’

‘BasedBro69: No way bro. He only gets to play once. Wish for something like fucking confidence or something. Something fun!’

‘MisterRichD27: IDK, Basedbro69 was right last time. Maybe you should wish for confidence?’ Rich shrugged. He could think up even more ways that this could go wrong, but this game had never seemed to work on logic in any of the videos he watched to prepare for this. So with a grin, he typed in his second wish “I wish I had the kind of cocky confidence that ladies love.” he said with a chuckle. He hoped it would be obvious that it was a joke, since his Twitch username, FortnightOtter44, made it obvious he was gay. He watched as the little version of him grew a big head, quite literally. Rich was worried this was leading to some type of game over, but his head deflated, his muscles grew, and a bunch of pixelated girls in bikinis ran up to the pixelated him. Rich grinned wide and tried not to cuss in celebration, not wanting to get demonetized (again). He had fucking done it! He fucking got past wish 2! He smirked as he watched the chat explode as more people tuned in ‘GenieStud33: Fuck yeah! RDH fucking did it! Knew you had it in you bro!’

‘MissRichD27: RDH is the best gamer ever! And the hottest! DM me!’

BasedBro69: HELL YEAH! You can do this bro!’ Rich, known as RDH to his fans, or RichDaHunk on Twitch, smirked, as he saw the comments roll in. He fucking knew he could get this game. He may not have been the most popular streamer on twitch, but he was a fucking good gamer and a total stud. He flexed his biceps, getting the chat riled up again in a frenzy of lust and admiration. Rich didn’t bother to look at the chat this time. He gave a smarmy, cocky smirk at the camera “I know what to put in next bros. I’m gonna wish for something fucking inevitable.” he said cockily.

He quickly typed in “I wish I was the most popular gaming streamer on Twitch”, and watched with a practiced cool confidence as the pixelated version of him gained millions of followers. The chat exploded with awe and wonder as what Rich had always known was going to happen, happened. He had won the game. He flexed his muscles for the stream, celebrating with his 43 million followers. He didn’t understand why they were all shocked. He was the coolest, hottest, douchiest gamer on twitch. Of course he fucking won!

[nyashykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Valentines Day Special Fic ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

‼️[ My friend silly giving me this idea i had no other V-day special then they reminded me I'm actually a writer so O7 to u bestie ]‼️

・┆✦ Entry : 021 ✦ ┆・

╰┈➤ ❝ [ And In Those Eyes I see Heaven; My Heaven] ¡! ❞

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" Jinwoo muses as he watches your face light up with a soft giggle.

Here he was, in front of you. Sporting a tuxedo that oh-so fits him perfectly that he looks straight of a dream with a bouquet of delicately arranged pink roses he plans to give to you.

Jinwoo had even went so far as to brush his hair neatly and maybe even wax it, making you laugh all the more uncontrollably as he tries to process what is going on exactly.

Silly.

It's so silly, really.

Back then, he was a shy boy who would stutter when he gives you your annual valentines day gift.

Jinwoo really couldn't spend too much money since he needed to save some for later expenses and academic stuff.

So instead he would resort into horribly handmade gifts

He started with the sloppiest and most crudely made paper boquets.

Jinwoo is ashamed of himself, but he couldn't take the gifts back since you would horde them to yourself for safekeeping.

His gifts would range to horribly made papercrafts, to seashells he found by the shore, to necklaces he put together by trinkets.

He would take you out to innocent dates, walking you on quiet parks of seoul. If the parks are too noisy, Jinwoo would go out of his way to search for possible date places.

Maybe it would be you two passing by supposed haunted buildings, maybe you two would be in the bookstore skimming around on the book covers and debating which book would look more fanciful to read than the other, other times he would take you to isolated cafes where only the two of you and the barista would be making noise in the soundless place.

No matter how funny and cute your valentines were, you knew, for sure— That whatever Jinwoo does is from the bottom of his heart.

He would think his efforts are stupid, but secretly that was why you loved him.

It's not because it was expected of a boyfriend, it was because he did something even if he knows he wouldn't do the best.

Jinwoo would always be trying for you, he would always be thoughtful of you, so much so that it makes your heart just cry from his sincerity.

How could someone just be so full of love? How could someone just give their hearts out like that? How is he so sincere?

Even if he were struggling with his odd jobs, even if he was silently crying behind closed doors from the stress living is causing him— Jinwoo always thought of you, he thought of how he could make you happy the next time you meet.

He thought of how he would hide his wounds and gashes from hunts just for you.

He always, always, thought of you.

But little did you knew, he had done some stuff for your attention.

He made those crude gifts because he wanted to see you make fun of him, he wanted to see you burst out laughing and gush about the little thing he made.

He took you to different places because he wanted you to see the more beautiful things of this world, he wanted to show you just how worth it living here is even if the world seems so dark and horrible.

He took you to those quiet little corners so he could hear your voice better without the background noise of anything else.

He often hides his injuries, yes, but sometimes he would purposely let those bandages get lose because he knew you would wrap it up for him. Whether you do it silently or you do it while scolding him, all he cared about, was how beautiful you are right at that moment.

Jinwoo loves you, more than you will ever know, more than any words could ever describe.

The swelling of his heart that never ends, the butterflies in his stomach that keeps fluttering around, and the galaxy he sees in your eyes— Oh how he loved you.

Even if he didn't say 'I love you' 3000' times a day, even if he couldn't give you everything back then— He loved you with all of him just as he does right if not more.

He loves subtly touching your fingers, he loves grazing his fingers on your lovely face, he loves staring at you in a complete daze, he loves running his hands through your soft hair.

Overall, he ust loved touching you and admiring you up close or from afar.

Because so long as you are in front of him, he doesn't really need to think about anything but just....

'Ah,... I love you so much'

Just how can he not spoil you no matter how much he embarasses himself?

And that same flimsy, wimpy and shy little boy, is now a man.

Dressed so handsomely in his suit, upright posture, a proud smile on his face.

This Man...

No

Your Man.

Your Sung Jinwoo

Your Jinwoo.

Not the Shadow Monarch, not the Tenth S-ranker of South Korea, not the World's Strongest hunter.

Just Jinwoo.

Your lovely, lovely, Jinwoo.

Even if he had grown so much, even if he had become so drastically different.

He is still Jinwoo.

The Jinwoo who made you crude paper flowers

The Jinwoo who dragged you into silly places

The Jinwoo who never stops at loving you.

...

"You know..." Jinwoo sighs, chuckling as he ruffles his hair to mess it up a little. "I think this version of me is better than a super formal gentleman, right?"

Yeah.

That's right.

A gentleman Jinwoo is always welcome.

But the Jinwoo who is just him is much... Much more lovable.

"Happy Valentines Day, Love."

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[inkskinned]

im having a particularly terrible night with urges and imagery that i dont know how to handle. i gave in to some things. held back on some others. but im barely holding on, dear internet stranger.

you do not owe me your time or your words.. but if you could write some hope into existence for me.. i would be unendingly grateful to you.

please. tell me how you do it. tell me how you survive. because im not so sure i can get through the fifteen days it'll take to get to my seventeenth birthday.

could you please give me something to place my faith in? i dont think the universe is watching out for me anymore.

i don't usually answer these, because i am not a professional, and you deserve professional help. when i was 17 i was terrified of the idea of professional help, because my household was extremely unsafe, and made it clear that if i ever chose to get help, i would be punished for it.

i hope this is not your case. i hope that you can call someone, and they can take you where you should go.

but i will give you the advice that i wish i got, when i couldn't get help at 17, when i was so bad that years later, i literally don't-know-how-i-survived it: what you want is peace, not death. your brain is sick. it has romanticized an ending where there are no consequences. where effort isn't necessary. where you can just... forget.

you want peace. that is a normal, human thing to want. maybe it feels more like you want quiet. or just... to take a break for a second.

here is what i will say: to end yourself means you never get to experience what it's like to actually be happy. i thought i knew what it was like, and i was bitter about it. i'd say - i've been happy, it's not worth it, because i didn't know what i was missing. i thought that happiness meant having a partner or having a job or money or a college degree. it sounded like effort. it sounded like something that had to happen to me.

for the first time in my life, just this week, i was able to go to a concert and just-enjoy-it. no liquor, no drugs. just stomping my feet and getting caught up in it. i didn't feel nervous or self-conscious or overwhelmed. i just had a good time. these days have a lot of these firsts for me - it is the first time i can eat cake without crying. it is the first time i can be around an exacto blade without supervision. it is the first time i have too many people to call when i am crying.

i can't tell you where you'll run into happiness, only that, for me, it started once i was out of that fucking house. it started once i figured out where the pain was coming from. once i figured out that i was not possessed, something medical was wrong with me. that i am not stupid or lazy, i have depression and adhd. the first few years were difficult. at 19, during my efforts to recover, i actually got worse by a considerable margin. and then, with time and patience - i got better.

happiness doesn't feel like what you think it will. in movies it's so golden and all-encompassing. but it doesn't fly into your hands when you buy your first car nor does it arrive in the arms of a partner nor does it require passing your classes. happiness came to me on a tuesday in the form of a red-winged blackbird, and i looked at her, and she looked at me, and i said - oh. the whole world suddenly filled itself in with color. like i had been forever-asleep. like every corner of every room was suddenly glistening.

it ended quickly, back then. it just stopped in to check in on me. but it was enough - this thing i had never experienced, but that i knew (logically) could happen. before that, i was only staying because it would make my mom sad if i died. that was my only reason. and then the happiness came, so strange and brilliant and lovely that for years i couldn't even look at it directly.

these days, things are so different. life is so much easier. i don't wish for death because so much of what i have is already at peace. my boss understands when i need a mental health day. people in general are less prone to high school drama. entire communities hold my hand and have my number. i have a car and a dog and a little apartment garden and candles on all available surfaces and today i bought myself a little cake just-to-celebrate-nothing. my body is my own and we are both dancing.

there are so many things i've gotten to taste in the last 10 years. i know, for you, that is an eon, because it's more than half of your life. but if it helps? in the 5 years between 17-21: i filled myself with laughter and love. i got to be a lead in a ballet and got my first tattoo and then my second and pierced my ears the way i'd wanted to (one of them professionally the other over a hot stove with a potato) and i discovered hozier is my favorite singer (i know. he was new back then) and i got my first real job and my first real paycheck and i hadn't ever been seen as smart but then i started to actually treat my adhd as a condition rather than a burden and people started saying you're like the smartest person in the room and my best friend met her husband who i will one day stand next to as maid of honor when he is her groom and i got to help people and make a stupid blog called "inkskinned" and find out that writing is actually my passion and that maybe i'm actually kind of good at it if i just practice and i got to meet my parents' dog (his name is kaiju) and i slept on couches and kissed people and tried new things and learned how to breathe without feeling my chest tighten and that peace is here, on this planet, that peace echoes everywhere, it is in my hair and my homework and my houseplants, it is quiet and divine and mine because i fought for it and i built it and yes i lost hair over it but holy shit the whole world feels like it is shifted through a sunbeam

recently someone asked me if i could go back in time to 6th grade, with all the knowledge i have now, would i? and without thinking, i barked absolutely not. i know i should say it's because i wouldn't want to risk losing any of this stuff - but really it's because i would never survive being a teenager again. it sounds incredibly lame and impossible, fake - but being a teenager was the hardest thing i ever did. i had no voice, no control, only fear and hatred.

but i did survive it. nothing about me is special. nothing about me is stronger than you or better prepared or more efficient. i didn't survive it perfectly. i made a lot of mistakes and lost a lot of friends and harmed myself in ways that i'm still recovering from. but i did survive it. and there is a part of me looking at you in the past and saying - i'm you in the future.

and holy shit. every day. every goddamn day i'm glad we survived to see the rest of it. because you hit 18 and everything changes. like, everything. and holy shit, it is infinitely worth it.

[kittykattropicanna]

it's 2 am and i should sleep but i just read your prison penpal!ghost now it's rotting my brain!!!! ><

reader would so try to send him gifts if they're allowed. special holidays aren't miserable for him anymore as he would be accompanied by reader's sweet little presents!!!

Sleeps for the weak baby, sleep when you’re dead ;)

Of course you're going to look after your man, he does so much for you, the least you can do is send him some money to treat himself!!! maybe a gift or two you dirty girl :3

I know I promised to upload this last night after work but I was sleepy. IM SORRY PLEASE FORGIVE ME

TW: edging, Si fucks himself with your dirty panties, smut, masterbation (Reader and Simon) its just fucking disgusting and dirty, but also kinda sweet <3

PrisonPenPal!Simon masterlist

Regular masterlist

Absolutely, holy shit. After your first phone call, you’re his, he makes that so unbelievably clear through his next letters. :)))

Telling you how much he craves you, how you’re the only thing on his mind, describing in intimate detail how his gonna touch you, kiss you, fuck you :((((

His so fucking desperate for you, to the point he actually gets enraged knowing he can’t touch you. Just the thought of you being on the other side of the wall makes his skin crawl, you’re right there, only thick cement dividing him from you :(( 

Its even worse knowing that he can’t do anything about it >:(

Si’s a problem solver, he prides himself on being able to weasel his way out of practically any situation without a problem, if that’s  reducing his sentence down to basically nothing or getting away with his little late night phone calls with you. He always finds a way to make it work, but for the first time ever, he can’t fix this, his stuck here. No exceptions, no sweet talking to get what he wants, no amount of calculated manipulation could get him out of this situation, and it makes him go absolutely mad. 

At this point he has a year left of his sentence, his so fucking close to being let back into society, so close to finally being with you :(((

Letting his emotions (and dick) cloud his judgment, driving him to think about making stupid decisions such as an attempted jail break would be absolutely the worst idea of his entire life.

Ohhhhh, but its so tempting :(

But it would just put more time between you and him, as much as he wanted you now, he knew it was only going to rip him away from you again in the long run :/

And that’s if his even successful, one night with you would mean the world to him, but it wasn't worth being thrown back in jail, only separating the two of you for longer :(

He just needed to sit tight, let the days roll on and try not to think about your soft moans through the shitty speaker of the prison phone. :(((

He absolutely asked you to be official after speaking to you for the first time. It drives him crazy knowing when guys try and hit on you at the bar, you smile brightly and tell them that you're his, his to keep. 

One of the guards asked him what’s the first thing his going to do when he gets out, with a dopey smile he chuckles a little

“See ma’ missus mate” his so fucking cute, his actually so obsessed with you, so proud that you’re his ;))))

Of course the other inmates wouldn’t know, and technically he most definitely shouldn’t of told a guard, news spreads, but he couldn’t help it, it slipped out, and you know what, he was fucking proud of it :)))

You 100% would send him money and gifts, Si makes a little money, about £35 a week either cleaning, laundry duties, basic maintenance, basically anything the job program can offer him. 

The only issue being when he first signed up, he made sure that all his money was payed into Price’s bank account. He didn’t want to risk using it, the whole reason he started the work program was because he wanted to try and set himself up once he got out, at least have some type of savings waiting for him on the other side. Every now and then he regrets it, but he knows its for the best :/

Learning that Si was so strict with his money that he didn’t treat himself to anything didn’t sit well with you….and its not like you’re struggling financially, you work a good job and your daddy is always willing to send money if you ever needed it!!!!

A hundred odd pounds a month isn’t going to leave any sort of dint in your bank account, so of course your going to send Si some money to treat himself!!! You’re such a sweet, sweet girl :(((, his sweet, sweet girl. 

You start sending the maximum amount each month which comes out to about £150, its the least you can do!! His your boyfriend! he might be a felon, a little perverted and rough around the edges, but to you, his perfect :)))

His so grateful as well :(( treating himself to snacks :((( chocolate bars, skittles and gummy’s, buying himself a book or two, replacing his flat, stained pillow and ratted blankets, getting himself some actually nice soap and a new toothbrush, buying clothes that actually fit him!! 

His muscles have grown so much since being locked up :3 there’s nothing else to do besides lift weights, work and sit around :((((

“Sweetheart, I want ya’ to know, the second I get out of here, imma treat you real nice, give ya’ everything I can, look after ya’, protect ya’”

and

“The minute I get ya’ home, its all about you, yeah? Imma lay ya’ down and eat ya’ like a starved man, overstimulate that little cunt till ya’ beggin’ me to stop, fuck ya’ so deep and hard that you’ll forget ya’ fuckin’ name, whatever ya’ want darlin’ its all yours, been lookin’ after me so well….. imma show ya’ how much I appreciate it, as ya’ can probably tell, i’m more a man of action, poetry an’t ma style baby ;)”

Definitely learns origami from other inmates, makes little paper swans and hearts for you, the paper always being a little stained from his dirty fingers, obvious crease marks showing his folded it the wrong way and had to reattempt :))))

God he knows how to treat a women :33333

But what I really want to get into are the gifts you send him…..;)

As I established in my last fics about you sending things to Si, you absolutely send him innocent gifts. 

Photos, one of your favourite gold necklaces, an oversized tee that smells like your perfume…. Cute little personal things so he can have a piece of you, nothing crazy :3

I feel like you were reading a spicy romance book. It mentioned the main character stealing his lovers used panties out of her dirty laundry basket, very quickly and idea clicked in your brain :((((

You wanted it to be a surprise for him :(((( you didn’t mention it to him in your letters, only telling him your working on a little something that’s crafted just for him ;))

Waking up in the morning you make sure to fuck yourself with your fingers :(( 

Covering your panties with your juices, making sure their absolutely soaked in your cum :((

Rubbing your thighs together while you’re at work, soaking through your panties with your arousal :((( thinking about Si eating your pussy just like he promised while in important meetings, loosing focus…. your boss pulling you aside and asking if you’re okay :(( 

Scrambling to find an answer to explain your distracted behaviour and flushed cheeks >:(

He ends up sending you home because you’re distracting everyone with your aloofness :(( putting the rest of your team behind because you're a selfish girl with a dirty mind >:( can’t even focus in your workplace because Si’s dirty words have taken over every aspect of your thoughts >:(

At the end of the day your panties are ruined with your slick, soaked  all the way through and smelling of your orgasm just like you planned ;))

And when Si received your thong obviously used??? :000000 he let out a low grunt....

Just the idea that you did this for him, fully confirming in his mind that you wanted him, craved him just as much as he craved you made something animalistic set off in his mind….

Because he received your package in the middle of the day, he couldn’t hide and tend to himself like normal >:((((((

He needed you now, he needed to fuck his cock NOW, not wait till his cell mates were asleep, his heavy balls ached and he knew if he didn’t relieve himself soon, his blue balls would become unbearable >:(((( aching and hurting with each step, uncomfortable and frustrated :(

Purposely being a dick and coursing havoc with his inmates so he can be locked up for his disruptive and disrespectful behaviour ;)))))

A shit eating grin when his in handcuffs being walked to his cell, knowing your panties are tucked into his boxers ;))))) his won yet again ;)

Like I’ve said before, and I’ll say it again, he ALWAYS gets what he wants :)))

The second his cell locks his ripping his hard, leaky cock out and wrapping your used panties around himself :((((

Pumping his fat dick, the friction of the fabric making it that much more satisfying :((((

Closing his eyes and imagining you walking around all day, turned on and flustered for him >:((((( the idea of you restricting yourself from fucking other men because you're his, knowing all you want is to be filled with dick, have the feeling of a real cock fucking you, not your cold, rubber dildo >:(

His precum mixing with your juices only turns him on more, knowing that this is the closest he’ll get to fucking your cunt for now :(( 

As his big hands slowly pump his dick, wanting to savour the moment, he lets out animalistic grunts, slowly speeding up and then slowing his pace, he edges himself almost whimpering when he refrains from his release yet again :(((

Something about holding back satisfies him, his training himself for you, getting ready for when he fucks you for the first time, wanting to hold out long enough that he can rip orgasm after orgasm out of you, forming a white rim of your cum around the base of his cock :(((

Grunted whispers of your name falling from his lips as he tries to hold back yet again, legs twitching and face getting hot as uncontrollable ropes of cum finally release from his vainy cock :(((

His never cum that much in his life, your panties damp with his semen, dick so sensitive that even the feeling of the fabric from his boxes makes him flinch >:(((

You’re such a good girl, always knowing how to please him, feels like you know him inside and out already ;)

You just wait until he gets his hands on you sweet girl ;))) 

Y'all are so fucking obsessed with each other I CAN'T

PrisonPenPal!Simon is open for requests so feel free to send them throughhhhh, add to the AU, ask me expand on certain topics, whatever floats your boat >:)

!Disclaimer! - Above is NSFW content - MDNI - If you follow my blog without your age in your bio, you will be blocked - If you are under the age of 18, you are not welcome here, otherwise, enjoy :)

Cat divider sourced by @positively-mine from Pinterest - Pink line divider by @eloquentreverie - MDNI divider by @cafekitsune

Basic blog housekeeping -  fic requests guidelines, boundaries and my rules for minors

[cutielando]

FIC IDEA WITH LANDO: So reader recently moved to Monaco bc of her job (any remote job u want and content creater) anyways she is working at a café just to get some money and lando is a customer. He flirts with her and stuff and she writes her number on the cup without him noticing at the moment. The reader then like a week later mentions it to her friend and talks about how he did not respond yet and like what exactly happened not knowing her friend was on live and her fans get invested and call this mystery boy “café boy” (kind of like Alix Earle with nfl man) Then McLaren invites the reader to the paddock and lando sees her and then have like a talk together in his drivers room and he mentions how he was nervous to text or something. After she makes a soft launch post captioned “my café boy 🤎”. IF U DO IT PLEASE TAG ME!

my coffee boy | l.n.

a/n: thank you so much @idkyet101sblog for the amazing idea 🤎

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📍Monte-Carlo, Monaco

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user1 mother is finally living her dream 😭

francisca.cgomes yayy!!!!!❤️❤️

yourusername ❤️❤️

yourbestfriend can’t believe you left me behind 🥲 JK I’M SO HAPPY FOR YOU ❤️❤️

yourusername i miss you already 😭😭❤️

user2 who is she?

user3 she’s a content creator and up-and-coming model🫶🏻 she makes a lot of F1 content since she is very good friends with Kika

user2 how come i’ve never heard of her until now?

user4 she’s only starting to become famous and accustomed to the public eye, maybe that’s why

yourmother so proud of you!!❤️❤️

yourusername love you mom!!!!

user5 if i don't grow up to be just like Y/N, i'm giving up

Real life

Moving to Monaco had always been your dream. Living in the beautiful country right on the water, starting a new life in such a peaceful place and being able to follow your dreams.

It had been your dream ever since you were a little girl.

However, moving to Monaco was in itself very pricey. It hadn’t been easy, gathering the money you needed to lead a relatively comfortable lifestyle in the exclusivist country, but you had managed to do so.

And now, you now had to step up a bit until things got going for you.

And you figured that working at the local coffee shop was the best solution. At least just until you got settled in your new home country and your career kicked in.

You knew that Monaco was the home to a lot of athletes, especially Formula 1 drivers, but you didn't really expect to meet any of them. Monaco was not really as small of a place as people thought, you wouldn't just run into an F1 driver in the street that casually.

No, you run into them at coffee shops.

You had been minding your own business one day, thankful that it was still early and people were not yet coming for coffee. But then the entrance bell rang, and your eyes met the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on.

The one and only, Lando Norris.

You didn't want to seem like an obsessed fan, so you tried to keep your excitement at bay the best you could.

"Hello" he greeted when he approached the counter, that famous smirk adorning his features.

"Hi. What can I get you?" you asked sweetly, praying to God that he wouldn't notice the furious blush on your cheeks.

"I'll just have a cappuccino, love" he asked, giving you a dazzling smile.

You blushed even more and nodded, getting to work on his drink.

He didn't say anything else for a second, he just watched and admired your movements as you effortlessly prepared his coffee.

"I haven't seen you around here before, and trust me. I would have remembered a face as beautiful as yours" Lando suddenly asked, leaning forward against the counter.

You almost did a double take, not wanting to get your hopes up. Was he actually flirting with you? Were you just dreaming?

You cleared your throat before you answered, which made Lando smile even more cockily.

"I just moved here a couple of days ago, got a job with a modelling agency and figured I would work for some extra money until the modelling gigs kick in" you explained, looking at his from the corner of your eye to see his wide eyes when you mentioned being a model.

"With a face as beautiful as yours, figured you were a model of some sort. Nobody would pass on someone as pretty as you"

You blushed again, thankful that the shop was almost empty and people couldn't see you falling apart just from talking to the man.

"Do you flirt with every barista you meet, Mr. Norris?" you teased, pouring the drink into a to-go cup.

"Just the insanely pretty ones"

You chuckled and shook your head, taking the sharpie in your hand to write his name on the cup. As soon as you wrote his name, your hand moved on its own, scribbling your phone number underneath and the message 'call me <3' next to it.

Biting your lip, you gave him the drink with a smile, biding your goodbyes.

"I'll see you around, Y/N" he said, looking at your name tag.

"Okay" was all you could say, your mind too fuzzy to come up with a better response.

He turned around just before he exited the cafe, winking at you before departing.

What the hell had just happened?

♡♡♡♡♡

Much to your disappointment, a couple of days had gone by without a single text from the driver.

You hadn't thought much of it, way too busy with unpacking and such to even think about your encounter. It was our friend who kept asking you about it, going out of her mind when you mentioned you had given your number to an F1 driver.

"Y/N, come here, you left me all alone" Samantha, your friend, called out for you from the living room.

You sighed, unwillingly getting out of your very comfortable position on your bed and walked into the living room.

Not even paying attention to what Samantha was doing, you fell on the couch face first, your sore limbs tired from the short walk from the bedroom to the living room.

"I was very comfortable in bed, thank you very much" you mumbled, but Samantha paid you no mind.

She knew how grumpy you got in the evenings, so she had learned to ignore your comments in such instances.

"Has he texted you yet?" she asked, making you glare at her.

"I don't know how many times you've already asked me that and how many times I've given you the exact same answer. No, he hasn't" you grumbled, hiding your face in your pillow.

Samantha hummed, casting a sneaky glance to her phone.

"But like what exactly happened?" she pressed, making you sigh.

"It's not that interesting of a story. He came in the coffee shop, ordered a drink, we flirted a little and then I wrote my number on his cup" you explained once again, and unbeknownst to you, your fans were going wild over the information they had just heard.

Samantha almost wanted to laugh when she saw the dozens of comments flooding in, calling Lando the "mysterious café boy" that hadn't texted you.

"If I were him, I would have texted you the minute I walked out" she defended, making you sigh.

"But you're not him. There are numerous reasons that could explain why he hasn't texted me, he's a busy guy, Samantha" you defended, getting up from the couch to head back to your bedroom, so done with the conversation.

Samantha waited until the door was closed before switching her attention back to her phone.

"And there you go, ladies and gentlemen. Our girl is finally finding love" she giggled, clapping her hands.

If only Lando would have the courage to make the first step.

♡♡♡♡♡

You had always been a fan of Formula 1, you got that from your father. He would always bring you with him to races when you were younger, and his love and admiration was passed onto you from a very young age.

However, you hadn't attended a race in a while, you hadn't had the opportunity or the time to go to one.

Until now.

McLaren had contacted you a couple of days before the Silverstone Grand Prix, inviting you as their VIP guest for the weekend. And who were you to refuse a weekend with the team of the guy you were crushing on?

That's how you found yourself walking towards the McLaren hospitality, bag clutched tightly in your hand as you approached the brightly papaya colored building.

Sighing with a smile on your face, you had just put your hand on the handle when the door opened from the inside and Lando stepped out, stopping in his tracks when he saw you in front of him.

The both of you froze, not knowing how to react. The first one to break the tension was Lando, who smiled at you widely.

"Hey, Y/N. Long time no see" he said, making you chuckle and nod.

"Yeah"

He nodded, and silence settled for a split second between the two of you before he spoke up.

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't text you. I saw your number, even saved it in my phone and was meaning to say something. I was just too nervous to screw things up, cause I really like you" he confessed, making your heartbeat quicken significantly.

Your eyes widened, and relief finally settled into your troubled mind. There had been so many thoughts and theories in your head about why he hadn't contacted you. Maybe you had misread the situation, maybe he wasn't interested, maybe he didn't see your number written next to his name, countless possibilities had been swirling around in your head.

But now, you were finally content. He was just nervous, bless his heart. If you were being fair, you would have been way too nervous to contact him if the roles had been reversed.

"Don't worry, it's okay" you reassured him, which made Lando feel better.

"I want to make it up to you. How about dinner tonight? My treat, I'll show you around the city" he suggested, his eyes full of hope.

You couldn't possibly deny him, so you found yourself nodding.

"Great" he smiled and leaned in to plant a kiss on your cheek before departing towards the garage.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a smile.

He hadn't forgotten you after all.

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yourusername my café boy 🤎

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francisca.cgomes i’m so happy for you guys!!!❤️❤️

yourusername thank you babe!!!✨❤️

user1 who is that????

user2 i’m so jealous 🙂‍↕️🥲

pietrapilao ❤️

yourusername 🫶🏻

user3IS THAT LANDO?????

user4 why would you think it’s lando?

user5 some people saw him with someone at the race and think this is his girlfriend

maxfewtrell smooth

yourusername thanks 🙂‍↕️

user6 this is basically confirmation that’s Lando 😭

maxfewtrell don’t take my word for it, people

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REQUEST HERE

[luci4theminorannoyance]

Hi! may I request something? the residential masked fellas (Ghost, Konig, Keegan, & Roach), x therapist!reader, who's a billionaire? (shocking part, the billionaire part was not mentioned by our reader) I imagine reader spoiling their s/o with gifts & affectionate stuff they deserve, while helping them get a sense of theirselves or something like that 😭 (most of the cod characters need therapy, to be honest) BUT- they start to suspect how on earth did reader get all of the stuff? cause i'm sure reader gifted them the expensive kind- but anyways, reader just casually just says their a billionaire, like it's normal- how would they react to this?

Please take care of yourself & stay safe !! 💖

a/n: you take care too!!! Sorry to all my followers for not posting in forever 😔 I had family stuff going on, and I’m a bit burnt out so I couldn’t come up with story plots for some of the characters

konig:

-konig is a well off man to begin with, but doesn’t use much of the money he earns with his impressive title as he has little idea what to actually buy when it comes to things being worthwhile, and hence since you give him so many gifts, his house is mostly filled with gifts then actual things he bought

-always took the gifts at face value and adored the thought put into them and never really thought to think of how much money you must spend

-eventually though, one of his few off duty friends asked why he had such high class things in his house as they pointed out gifts you had simply given him and he started to get quite curious himself

-called you up one night to ask, waking you up as he asked a simple “uh- maus? You know the mixer you got me last week when I said I wanted to make cookies is 800 dollars, why??”

-you had to stop laughing out loud from his confusion since you thought you had been open with it due to the amount of things you simply gave him

Roach:

-stayed in his cramped barracks a lot of the time and very rarely replaced any of his tearing gear because he was too tired to do so, he just generally didn’t care how the public saw him and had little care on himself

-of course that changed when you practically threw him new clothes, new gear, new facial care for his tiny apartment he used when off duty. He started to actually enjoy getting to indulge in a massage or a face mask while he simply felt all clean

-of course, he thought it was all temporary, that you were just spending a particular amount on a well paying month, but as it went on and on continued, he started to get more and more confused

-one day when you took him on a shopping trip, he saw you check your checking account and THATS when he realized that you planned to pay for his every whim personally and could without damage… a very flustering experience

Ghost:

-never truly is off guard even when off duty or around people, it’s built into him from trauma and past and his job doesn’t help to much with that

-however, he does have a particularly interesting hobby that calms him down more then most things can, even you (although he adores you with all his heart). And that hobbies is photography. Of things he enjoys, that is. He never put money into a very good camera, never seeing the need in doing so until you bought him one…

-he cherishes that camera more then he cherishes his mask, which is saying quite a bit. He didn’t know how much he actually needed the upgrade till he saw the difference in his photos

-he of course, shows it off to his team. And soap points out exactly how pricey it must be for a lil old therapist to buy. he starts to get worried, did you spend money you didn’t have on him? Did he take away from your own funds? Did he just take it and not think about the damage you might have created yourself without even thinking twice???

-calls you on his burner phone in a tiny bit of a panic, but it doesn’t show too much under his gruff tone. He lets out a sigh he didn’t notice he was holding in once you told him that you in fact had the money to buy that camera 100 times over

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

He's My Man (Part 2)

Summary: The reader isn't quite so sure if she can trust Russell with her secrets but he's decided she's going to get his help, whether she wants it or not. Reluctantly she accepts but in the process realizes she might actually be starting to care about him...

Masterlist

Pairing: Russell Shaw x reader

Word Count: 4,500ish

Warnings: language, gun shot injury mention, mentions of death, angst, fluff

A/N: Ooooh things are heating up! Please enjoy!

__________

Russell stared at you with what one could only describe as a look of wonder. You didn’t exactly blame him. Eating four large cheese danishes and chugging back a week’s worth of coffee in the span of fifteen minutes was enough to make anyone’s eyes widen.

You tossed your trash in his motel waste bin when you finished and returned to your seat at the tiny corner table. With an obnoxiously loud slurp of even more coffee, Russell titled his head, shaking it slightly.

“Good god. You have never been more attractive to me, which is saying something.” You slurped again, Russell letting his curiosity in your eating habits fade away in favor of the elephant in the room. He straightened in his seat, pausing a beat. “So. What’s this long story?”

Your fingertips rattled against the side of the large styrofoam cup, a small amount of heat radiating through. Now that you’d had some time to think, or rather stress eat, you knew this was a mistake. A big one. You needed to kick Russell out of your life and the sooner the better.

“I think you have the wrong idea about what’s going on and I thought it better we talk in private,” you said. Russell wore a weary expression, his eyes dissecting your every micro-movement. “I’m not interested in a relationship or a date or conversation. I don’t do that considering my line of work and I imagine you keep things casual with yours. So you take your money and consider this a warning. Contact me again and I will have you dealt with, understand?”

Russell leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a clenched jaw. You narrowed your eyes in response, Russell picking at his bandage without realizing. 

“Stop that,” you mumbled when he kept doing it, his lip twitching up in a not so friendly way.

“You threaten me and in the next breath are worried about my damn stitches? I don’t think you realize just how good I am at my job,” he said, placing both hands on the table, folding them together. You swallowed, Russell staring so intently you had to glance away. “Alright. Back at the coffee shop, that was a moment of bravery and now it’s passed? Tough shit. We’re in the weeds now and we ain’t leaving until I know you do your job of your own free will. Understand?”

“Forget I said anything.” You stood up, Russell matching the movement and catching your bicep before you could take a step. Yes, he was injured but even one armed, he had enough raw strength in him to keep you from leaving.

“Tell me or I dig on my own and make things a lot riskier for both of us.” He dropped his hand, nodding to the seat. Russell sighed. “I trusted you. You can do the same.”

“You’re one guy.” You shook your head. “Drop this or you’ll wind up dead or worse.”

“I made my living doing jobs where if I fucked up I’d wish I were dead over the alternative. I know how to keep a secret. Maybe I can help, maybe I can’t. But you opened the box. You can’t just close it again.”

“Yes, I can. Goodbye, Russell.” You grabbed your coffee and headed for the door, pausing when you had a hand on the handle.

But what if he could help…he was ex-special ops…

Russell’s hand slid over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. You frowned, a reassuring smile greeting you.

“Do you like your job?” he asked. 

“S’complicated,” you whispered.

“How complicated?”

“Jobs like yours…that’s up to me to do that stuff but I…I work for someone else.” You found Russell’s unreadable green eyes and sighed. “I’m a fixer for the local mafia. It’s not a job you get to quit and stay alive very long.”

Russell contemplated your words, lips forming a thin line before he nodded. “I can take care of that assuming your story checks out.”

“My story?” you asked, Russell humming. “Why would I lie-”

“You could be playing me for any number of reasons. Like I said, I’m going to check your story out and if it’s all kosher, we’ll figure out where to go from there. Capiche?”

“Fine,” you grit out, shaking his hand away. “But do it quietly. You got three days.”

Late Evening

Your eye actually twitched when you answered your front door that night to find not your pizza delivery man before you but Russell fucking Shaw. He wore a deep navy utility jacket that hung loosely around his trim waist and a pair of black jeans. You weren’t sure why but his shift from lighter colored clothing this morning to this dark, edgy look made him look as dangerous as you expected he was.

“Russell,” you said. He didn’t bother hiding his smirk, eyes roaming over your body. You glanced down at your soft pale yellow pajama shirt and matching shorts set, huffing when he slipped past you inside.

“You totally are the kind of woman to having matching jammies,” he chuckled. You gripped the door tight, ready to kick him out just as your delivery driver pulled up.

“Just…take off your boots.” Two minutes later you had your pizza and garlic knots on your kitchen counter while Russell leaned back against it, his jacket since removed and tossed on the back of your couch. He wore a black zip up that was undone over a black t-shirt, Russell shifting at your growing unease.

“Listen,” he said, holding up his hands. “You got questions but first off, I’m not here to hurt you. This is just what I wear when I need to go…looking around places I ain’t exactly invited into.”

“Like my home?” He stared blankly, eyes drifting down to your chest. “The flirting was cute. Eye-fucking me in my kitchen, not so much.”

“You have sauce all over your shirt.” You glanced down, spotting marinara drops all over your short sleeve button up top from where you’d had the edge of the pizza box pressed against your torso as you’d carried it in. “Thanks for thinking so highly of me, though. Makes a guy feel special.”

“I’m on edge, alright?” you snapped, grabbing a towel and trying to get most of the sauce out. “Plus I just ruined a two hundred dollar shirt.”

“Figured you for a oversized men’s t-shirts kind of gal but little sets from french boutiques suites you.” You froze, Russell dropping his hands. “I know all about your shopping habits. You have high quality taste, much richer than the average suburbanite.”

“And?” you said, tossing the towel down, hands going to your hips. “Are you about to kidnap me and turn me over to the mafia or what?”

Russell approached you slowly, gently picking up the towel from the floor and dabbing it with some dish soap. 

“If I had wanted to hurt you or take you or whatever else is going through your head, you wouldn’t have seen me coming.” He rubbed the towel against the damp spot on your shirt, letting the fabric get soapy. “Let that soak for a few minutes and then after you have some dinner, toss it in the wash. It’ll come out good as new.”

“How do you know that?” you asked, Russell hanging your towel on the oven handle. 

“Because knowing how to get stains out of all types of fabrics is kind of necessary in my line of work,” he said, opening a few cabinets before finding the one with the plates. “Now. Can you put the knife you thought you grabbed without me seeing back and we have a civilized conversation over pizza?”

You weren’t sure how he’d seen you swipe the knife from the butchers block but figured he had a point. If he’d wanted to screw you over, he would have done it already. After excusing yourself, you returned in a pair of skinny black joggers and a slightly cropped gray AC/DC shirt to find Russell had already plated two sizeable portions for yourselves. 

“See? Now that’s a look more fitting for the princess of darkness,” he chuckled.

“That’s queen of darkness to you,” you said, taking a seat at the island in front of one of the plates. “Do me a favor, lover boy. Grab me a guinness from the fridge.”

“Dark stout. Always a good choice.” He got out two, removing the cap for you before retreating to the other side of the island.

“As much as I love uninvited house guests who welcome themselves to my food and beer, why are you here, Russell?” You took a large bite of pizza, Russell long necking his beer for a moment. 

“Yet I don’t see you kicking me out. It’s okay to admit you’ve fallen for me, Y/N,” he teased. You growled, Russell’s eyebrows raising in amusement. “Hot damn, woman. I love when you get all grr. Tells me you are a force to be reckoned with.”

You rolled your eyes, Russell taking an extra large bite. “Stop flirting and talk.”

“Why can’t I do both?” he asked, not waiting for an answer. “But to answer your original question, I’m here because your story checked out and that’s kind of a problem.”

“Excuse me? Why is that an issue?”

He set his plate down and gripped the island, leaning over it slightly. “Y/N. I can call up a few friends and wipe out a local mafia family no problem.”

“Awesome. Then what’s the fucking problem?” Russell tilted his head, like you’d just walked into some kind of trap he’d set.

“Y/N. Despite all the obvious sexual tension brewing between us, you failed to mention that you have a boyfriend. You know, the head of this fucking mafia family. The boyfriend that buys you those fancy french pajama sets? The one that bought that espresso machine over there? Girl, you better explain yourself because I am not a hired gun.”

You chewed quietly for a few moments under the heated scrutiny of Russell’s gaze before you pushed the plate away.

“My dad was an accomplished doctor. He was very well respected. I grew up very comfortably until I was about eight.” Russell loosened his stance and began to eat while you decided what he needed to absolutely know. “My dad unknowingly saved a mobster’s life one night in the ER. Mr. Lauter.”

“The former head of the mafia and this guy, Owen, your supposed boyfriend’s dad?” You nodded before taking a big swig from your bottle.

“Well, that pissed off Mr. Elpine who had almost had a successful hit on Mr. Lauter. Elpine tried to get my dad to kill Lauter. Dad refused and the next morning on the way to school, the brake lines in our car didn’t work. Dad and I walked away. Mom and my brother didn’t. Dad was scared Elpine would come after me again.”

“Your father went to Lauter for protection,” said Russell. You picked up your pizza as he put together the rest of the pieces. “Lauter offers him protection for saving his life but something happens and your dad ends up working for Lauter as his fixer.”

“The paranoia got to dad. He would take me on these weekend hunting trips all the time and teach me survival skills and medical stuff and I was a fucking kid, Russell. I didn’t want to do that shit but dad was…twitchy. PTSD for sure, a mental break too. I always guessed there was some brain trauma after the accident that never healed. He got real bad when I went to college. Bad enough that Lauter stepped in when my dad attacked me when I came home for the holidays. Lauter killed him and the fucked up part was I wasn’t even upset. My real dad had died when I was a kid. But…when a mob boss kills for you whether you wanted them to or not-”

“They think they own you for life.” You nodded. “So you became the fixer.”

“They let me finish college under the condition I come back and work for the family. They leave me be except for when I need to patch someone in the crew up. It’s honestly not that bad. They gave me a lot of money over the years. I hate to say this but Mr. Lauter was pretty good to me.”

Russell cleared his throat. “You do know how fucked up what he did to you is, right?”

“Of course I do,” you said, closing your eyes. “But compared to my dad and Owen, he was the lesser evil.”

“I came across the fact Mr. Lauter died about three weeks ago from heart disease.” You hummed. “Tell me about this fuckface, Owen.”

“Dude has had a crush on me since he was fucking twelve. He has it in his head that the family owns me, literally. Lauter always reined him in but since he’s been gone, Owen’s been…pushy. Telling the crew I’m his girlfriend, asking them to follow me. Thankfully, and this is why this is so weird, I grew up around a lot of the guys. Making me work and fix people, fine. But some kind of forced romance? They aren’t cool with it, at least they’re kind of ignoring Owen. I’ve kept Owen off my back because he’s grieving and busy trying to take over but he’s going to back on my ass soon. This time, those guys will have to listen to their new boss.”

“So…I take out Owen and you think you’re in the clear. You could have just said that.” He finished off his beer and washed his hands at the sink. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going grab essentials, and I mean essentials, while I pack up your dinner in what I expect is some color coordinated tupperware. Then you’re going to take my car and drive to Elmhurst Camping Grounds. It’s about four hours north of here and no, you will stop for anything so use the bathroom before you go and I’ll pack you a snack. You’re going to park in the visitors lot and go to the airstream in lot 4. It’ll be isolated. You knock on the door and there’ll be a guy inside. Colter. You stay with him, go wherever he goes and do whatever he tells you to without question. You don’t leave his side until I come and get you, understand?”

“I feel like if I ask questions you’ll just tell me I don’t want to know.” Russell smirked.

“I love that big brain of yours.” You rolled your eyes but felt a tiny smile on your face. “Warming up to me are we?”

“Fuck no. But uh, who the hell are you sending me to?”

“My baby brother. Don’t worry. His ugly mug will keep you safe.”

Four Hours Later

“Uh, hi,” you said, practically bouncing up and down at midnight in front of a strange tall man at a very nice airstream RV. 

“Y/N,” he said as you forced a smile. “Bathroom is right there-”

You darted past him and into the small cubby bathroom, grateful after the long drive. The man was waiting leaned against a small counter space when you exited, a temporary bed made up behind him in what looked like a breakfast nook.

“Sorry to barge in. Russell said not to stop for anything.” 

“S’alright,” he said. “Bed’s made up if you want to crash. I’m going to stay up a bit longer by the fire. You’re welcome to join if you like.”

“Thanks, uh…” you said, a very brief smile on his face as you tried to remember what Russell had called him.

“Colter. It’s not a problem.” He skirted by you and outside, taking a seat in a foldable camping chair. You had questions but for the moment, all you wanted was to get some rest. 

You woke up around six thirty, jolting up in your bed to find a very wet and nearly naked Colter trying to pick up a mug he’d dropped. 

“Well good morning,” you said, his hand in a death grip on the towel just barely concealing him away.

“Morning,” he said, slowly backing up to the bedroom. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Not a problem,” you said, catching a whiff of coffee. 

“Mug are in the first cabinet if you want a cup. I’ll be out in a minute,” he said. He excused himself to his room and slid the divider shut, leaving you to the rest of the airstreamer. 

A moment later you were outside in front of a small fire, sitting in a chair with warm coffee in your hands. It was cool and you wished you’d thought to pack a jacket in your haste last night.

You were rubbing your arms when something was draped over your shoulders, a thick heavy hoodie. 

“Russell got you out of there pretty quick, huh?” asked Colter, taking the mug while you shrugged into the warm fleece.

“Yeah. All I grabbed was my wallet, some cash and my computer. He told me I could buy clothes here,” you said. Colter handed you back the mug and took a seat beside you.

“I checked his car. He had a duffel full of his clothes in there I brought inside. You can use his stuff, or mine, until we can hit a store.”

“Thanks,” you said, smelling Russell’s deodorant on the fabric. Colter saw you tug the hood up, a question on the tip of his tongue but he decided against it. The air was still and quiet apart from the crackle of fire and morning birds. 

“So,” said Colter, not looking at you as he drank. “You and Russell…you like, his girlfriend-”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I just met the guy yesterday. All I did was patch him up.”

“Right.” You sunk lower in your chair, slurping loudly.

“Were you special ops like him?” you asked. Colter shook his head.

“Civilian. Never had any formal training, just what we grew up with.” Well, that was an interesting statement. What the hell did it mean though? “Our father was a survivalist, taught us things.”

“Oh. My dad was a little out there too.” Was that why Russell was so adamant about helping you out of your situation? No. Maybe it played a part, but no. He’d wanted to help before you told him that. “Does Russell do this sort of thing often?”

“No clue. First time I talked to him in years was two days ago. I helped him find a friend of his. I was there when he got that bullet hole in him you fixed.”

Alrighty then. Russell was becoming more and more intriguing by the second. 

“So you don’t know a lot about him then,” you said. Colter shrugged.

“I guess I’m figuring him out too but he’s a good guy. He’s somebody you want as a friend.” You hummed, finishing your coffee off. Colter excused himself to get you more and returned with a fresh cup, steam billowing from within. 

“You trail run?” you asked, Colter’s eyes showing a flash of surprise. “Muddy sneakers by the door. I did cross country in school.”

“I try to get out most mornings. The hot water should be good to go in about five minutes if you want a shower.” 

“Thanks.” You licked your lips as you remembered the sight of him exiting the bathroom not long ago. Sure, Colter was hot but Russell…well the image of that man in nothing but a towel as water dripped down his body…You shifted in your seat, squeezing your legs together to try and get a hold of yourself. Colter smirked slightly in his seat. “What?”

“I’m good at reading people is all.”

“And? What am I saying?” you asked, staring him down. Colter only smiled as he looked away to the fire.

“You’re wondering if Russell works out and picturing him naked.” You glared at him but it did nothing to hide the heat radiating off your cheeks. “Hey, you’re a grown woman. You can do as you please.”

“I think I will take that shower now.” You stood and set the mug down on the ground, shooting Colter one last look. There’d been no malice or teasing in his voice. He was simply being straight with you. “Listen. I just…I haven’t exactly been around good guys much, or ever. I’m not saying there’s anything there beyond physical attraction, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, looking at you like you were the worst liar in the world. “Whatever you say.”

You grumbled and went inside to take a very cold shower.

Three Days Later - Spokane, Washington

“Hey, Colt,” you said, pushing up the long sleeves of Russell’s gray henley you wore. Colter hummed around the piece of grilled chicken in his mouth as you spun your laptop around from the other side of the airstream’s dining table. “Could she have gone here? Looks like a decommissioned game trail.”

“Yeah, yeah that fits,” he said with his mouth full, chewing and swallowing quickly so he could take a closer look. You returned to your own dinner, Colter mentioning he was going to take a look after dark. 

Things had fallen into an easy pattern with the two of you. Colter was very different than his brother but it wasn’t a bad thing. He didn’t talk much and worked as a rewardist. He’d planned on sticking around the east coast for when Russell met up with you again but an urgent case in Washington popped up. You’d spent most of the past three days driving cross-country behind Colter’s truck and the airstreamer, learning what the hell a rewardist was.

Colter had told you about the case at first to keep your mind off of Russell but you’d reluctantly taken an interest and now were deep in the weeds of helping him locate a missing young woman.

“You want to come look with me?” asked Colter, breaking you out of your train of thought. You blinked, a small smile on his face. “Come on. It’ll get you some experience with rewardest work and stop you from doom scrolling.”

“Alright,” you sighed. While you appreciated Colter’s attempts to make you feel better, you were starting to get very concerned. You hadn’t heard from Russell since you left your house a few days ago and there was nothing in the news about the local mafia members being killed. Or him.

Colter rubbed your back when you helped him unhook it from the airstream. He tended to do that when you started to get stressed out. He hadn’t been lying before. He really was good at reading people. 

“Colter,” you said in the dark truck, the hum of the vehicle quiet in the cab as he drove. “What if something happened to him and he needs our help?”

“He knows what he’s doing. A job like this, he’s got to do a lot of prep work and he’s got to put a crew together. Trusted friends. Try not to worry.” You bit your bottom lip as you stared out the window, trees passing by. 

If only it were that simple.

It was two in the morning by the time you and Colter made it back to the camping grounds. You’d found Martha in not too great of shape but she was alive and the doctors said she’d make a full recovery with time. Colter has tried to give you some of the reward money for helping but you hadn’t done all that much in your opinion. 

“Stay here,” he said when he turned the truck into your lot and you spotted a dark figure sitting by the fire. He took his gun from the back of jeans and got out, pausing halfway out the door. He smiled over at you and you caught the dark figure give an awkward little wave. “Should I tell him how much you’ve been worried?”

“Not. A. Word. Colter,” you said before hopping out and happily rushing over to where Russell rose to his feet. You didn’t realize you were giving him a hug until he was laughing, returning it and lifting you off the ground. 

“I missed my queen of darkness too,” he chuckled, setting you down with a smirk. You scoffed, Russell’s eyebrows raising at your attire. “Is that my jacket? And shirt?”

“Why waste the money on new stuff,” you shrugged, Russell grinning like an idiot. “Stop that.”

“I’m sure that was the reason.” Colter came over, the boys sharing a nod. “You keep my little delinquent out of trouble?”

“She’s a breeze,” said Colter, taking a seat. “Even helped with my latest case. She should try the rewardist thing. She’s good at it.”

“Maybe. All I want to know is am I good?” you asked. Russell took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. He nodded, the tension running of out your body. “Thank you, Russell. Thank your friends too. I’ll pay you guys-”

“No payment. This was because you’re my friend, plain and simple. Just knowing you’re safe is more than enough.” You smiled, letting yourself rest your head against his shoulder. “You should rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“How-”

“In the morning. I need to catch up with my little brother.” You nodded, enjoying the feel of his heavy hand as it ran over your head. “Go sleep, Y/N. You’re exhausted.”

You reluctantly peeled yourself away and went inside to find your makeshift bed had been done up for you already. You didn’t even try to fight the flutters in your stomach when you spotted a yellow pajama shirt and shorts set neatly folded on top. There was a note beside it, a stupid ass smile finding it’s way onto your face.

Brand new. Imported from France. Don’t get used to fancy ass presents like these. I ain’t made of money. Even if these are soft as fuck and I totally wish they made these for men. I still think you’d look better wearing a band tee to bed.

Russ

P.S. They had a sale so I got you something else too. Check your backpack.

You shook your head and grabbed your bag from the floor, taking out a very elegant black bag. You undid the tissue paper and went wide eyed. 

Inside was a very, very, fancy black lace bra and multiple pairs of gorgeous bikini style undies in soft muted colors. There was another note waiting for you inside, your heart stilling.

No strings attached. Hopefully these will cover you for a little while until you can get settled again.

“Oh, Russell,” you said quietly, thumbing over the bag, smiling to yourself as your insides did very happy backflips.

He wasn’t just a pretty and protective face. He was thoughtful too.

And you were starting to fall for a guy that’d most likely be gone by this time tomorrow.

Fuck.

__________

A/N: Read Part 3 here!