#i wanted to try something new but. it’s not going well so far

[digi-diareis]

Teen MC snapping at Caleb

Context: Yk how when you're teenagers, guys think the only way to flirt with the person they like is by teasing them? Well, imagine if Caleb had an era like this until it went too far and mc finally snapped at him.

Beware: this is gonna be SO BAD. im not a writer at all and english isn't my first language either. its just that i've had this scenario in my head for a few days now and i needed it out of my system. Also, I decided to use they/them pronouns for mc. So its more inclusive that way and also bcs even I personally don't always refer to my mc as she/her. So yeah, for the bitches, bros and non binary hoes.

Imagine this, Caleb and you bantering like usual on your way home but you're having an off day which makes it easier for you to get pissed off and fed up with all the teasing. Unfortunately, Caleb doesn't notice this and keeps teasing you until you just snap.

So mc, exasperated, scoffs at him and turns around to leave with their arms folded across their chest and eyebrows scrunched so hard they almost look like a unibrow.

"I'm done talking you. Go find someone else to pick on, Caleb. I'm not in the mood."

Sensing the sudden shift of mood, Caleb is speechless for a bit and left floundering, looking for the right words to say. He thought this was just your usual banter so why were you suddenly taking the jokes seriously? Hell, he can't let you stay in a bad mood for the entire day because that means he's getting the silent treatment and he'd rather die (well not really but he almost feels like it) than have you completely ignore his entire existence. Again.

He approaches you slowly, using a gentle voice to not alarm you the same way one would with a hissing kitten.

"Pipsqueak? Did I say something wrong? I'm sorry... Tell me what it was and I promise I won't say it again. Don't be mad anymore, we don't want you to develop any more wrinkles, do we?"

And oh, the way you stiffened up, very much reminiscent of a stray cat on full alarm against anybody trying to steal its food. Caleb gulps, knowing somewhere along the lines, he triggered a tripwire and a bomb's about to blow.

"Uhm! You know what, nevermind me! How about we go buy your favorite snack? Oh, what a coincidence your favorite stall is right around the corner-"

You turn around with a glare that makes him immediately shut up, looking like you're about to rip him a new one.

"WRINKLES?! First, you make fun of my height. Calling me pipsqueak around everyone and never shutting your damn mouth about how not a day has passed where I was taller than you. Then you start being weirdly aggressive towards my other guy friends, which by the way, what the fuck? Now most of them won't even talk to me anymore! What is your problem?! And now, you're calling me OLD and UGLY?!"

"I-I never said -"

"Shut your damn mouth and listen to me, Caleb! You have been getting on my nerves lately! I've been trying to convince myself that this is all just friendly banter but sometimes, you go too far that I don't even know if I can still laugh it off! We used to be best friends but now, its so easy for you to make fun of me. I don't know what I ever did to deserve this but oh my god, if you hate me this much then just stop hanging around me!"

Mc is heaving by the end of their entire speech, extremely worked up and upset that they're red in the face. They had been bottling this up for the past few weeks so letting it out almost felt cathartic.

Caleb is stuck in place, throat dry and mouth open but words won't come out. Was that how it's been like for you? Had he taken the jokes too far recently? Maybe it was wrong to listen to the other guys in his class who said that teens tend to fall for guys who act terrible, the bad boy stereotype is popular nowadays.

He looks down, feeling guilty and pathetic that he ended up making you feel like you hated him when you were the person who embodied everything he loved. You made him feel like flying and falling, all at the same time. So how could he hurt you like this? He had to make things right before it was too late.

"I'm sorry. Its all my fault. I shouldn't have said all those hurtful things to you, even if it was a joke or not. At the end of the day, they hurt you and that's not right. Please believe me when I say that I could never hate being around you. That couldn't be more wrong, not when all I ever want to do is be by your side. So please don't tell me to stop hanging around you, just thinking about it feels like my chest is being squeezed that it hurts. I promise I won't make the same mistakes again, so please forgive me?"

He's nervous, fiddling with his hands while he looks you in the eye. He reminds you of a wet puppy under the rain, begging you to bring him home with you. You knew the moment he pulled those puppy dog eyes that you would eventually lose, you could never say no to him. Not when you were kids and not now.

You sigh, shoulders slumping and the frown gone from your face. Now you just look tired, which only makes him more worried, maybe you're tired of him? No, that can't be. What would happen to him if you decide he's not worth keeping around anymore? He just might stop functioning all together.

You turn your back and start walking home, he feels his heart drop thinking this is it. You're leaving him behind– that is until you turn your head to the side, side eyeing him with a blush on your face.

"What're you standing there for, I thought you were going to buy me my favorite snack? Don't get the wrong idea, I'm not forgiving you just yet. Not until I've had my fill."

After that day, Caleb completely changes. Or maybe its more accurate to say he reverted back to how he used to be when you guys were kids. Doting, attentive and extremely supportive. He still banters with you from time to time but he never goes out of his way to start one. Although, there is one thing that doesn't change and that's how over protective he still is, he's still acting like a guard dog and being threatening towards all the guys in your class but at this point, you're just happy to have your best friend back again.

And just like that, Caleb's popularity spikes in your class because suddenly, every girl wants a guy who comes at their beck and call and attends to their needs. No more bad boy persona for them, they just want someone who worships the ground they walk on the same way Caleb does for you.

[lethalchiralium]

Simon is a liar.

Well, it’s not that he lies often, but he does do it and you have no idea unless it’s with the girls. Getting them to sleep by telling them that they’ll get candy in the morning instead of eggs, telling them the tooth fairy has the day off on Fridays, and even telling his toddler that he goes and saves puppies some days instead of the world. He lies, but not without reason.

But as he follows you around as you shop, he feels the need to lie. Tell you that you look good in an ugly color dress just to get you to laugh. Deny that your grip on his hand hurts. Say that he doesn’t want another leather jacket, even though he does. He wants the one you keep showing him - nice detailing, shiny silver zipper, and thick lining to keep him warm. One that wasn’t ripping at the seams, has cigarette burns, or holes that dotted its worn flank.

“Simon, please, I just want to buy something nice for you.” You say, looking at him with those sweet eyes and genuine care.

He hates himself at that moment when he lies.

“I’m alright with what I got.”

The nod of understanding, knowing that pushing will not get you far, distressed him. He knows he shouldn’t be this way, that he should bend at the knees every time you even begin a sentence. But the leather jacket is something he can’t do that for, and he can’t stomach telling you the reason.

You pull out pretty dresses and tops to show him, he always agrees with the ones that make your eyes pop. Your hand squeezes his every time you walk back and forth in this little boutique and he knows quite well that you’re purposefully passing this perfect leather jacket multiple times. Exposure therapy.

He doesn’t like upsetting you. He knows you want him to have nice things instead of the worn down clothes he has, but he cannot allow himself to have better things when the money should be going towards his children and their needs. He can go without a new leather jacket, even if you had saved over the course of a year for it. He’d rather buy Winnie the dollhouse she really wants, buy Mellie the beanbag she always has him look up online, maybe even something for the baby like a new high chair. He could buy you a nice ring with that leather jacket money, even though you’d say no.

In a way, you two are the same.

You finally stop the games and stand next to the jacket, hand squeezing his impossibly tight before loosening. “Do you not like it?”

“It’s nice.”

“Then try it on.”

He shakes his head. “No, ‘m okay with this. We can use the money on you.”

Your shoulders droop, his heart hurts, and you softly murmur, “Why aren’t you letting me do this for you?”

He feels the need to lie, the itch that takes hold of his throat and shakes it. His head dips down, his eyes level with yours. “Because this jacket means a lot to me. Don’t want to start over with a new one.” Another lie, it doesn’t mean a lot, it means everything.

You stare at him for a while, digging in his eye with such a disappointed glare. Stiff, aggravated, but still docile. “What’s so special about holes and torn seams?”

“I first met you with this on.” He confesses. “First met Winnie with this on. Mellie fits in a wrap in it like a glove, and it was Tommy’s.” His hand comes to rest on your bump where the baby kicks lazily, your forehead rests against his.

In the back corner of a shop, he tells the truth. Says a prayer as he kisses you, thanks God when you finally see the ratty jacket for what it truly is - a symbol of loyalty.

Another kiss pressed against his lips before you move away, your hand brushes his hair away from his forehead before cradling his jaw. “That’s all you had to say. No more lies.”

Simon is a liar, it’s sometimes all he knows. A second skin, a way to protect the keloids made from wounds he suffered forever ago. But when he looks in your eyes, cradles your belly that grows his baby with a ring on his hand that matches your own, and lets you in his marred head, he can’t bring himself to lie to you.

“No more lies.”

[redbluepurple123]

Sylus & The Claw Machine

Be so for real…

You’re telling me the overlord of the N109 Zone is playing claw machine with you? He set aside overlord duties to get you that plushy you want?

Well, this is my take on how that would go the first time..

Note: I’m still so new to this fanfiction thing! This is my second one ever - I hope you enjoy it! 1K words.

Tags: His POV, pure fluff, a little humor, claw machine moment, Sylus being just a little grumpy, use of “kitten”, that damn crow plushie

Sylus had enough blood on his hands that if he washed them in the Linkon River, the water would run red.

He terrorized entire factions—entire planets—to achieve the things he wanted. He’d buried cities and people and stood steadfast as a harbinger of death to those that stood in between him and his goal.

And he would have it no other way.

That was the fundamental understanding in the N109 zone. Cross Sylus and your timer started. When it ended, well…that was for him to decide, really.

It didn’t bring him joy. It also didn’t bring him discomfort. One could not criticize the lion for having sharp teeth. It was natural. There was order in it. Hierarchy. Only when order was disturbed did the lion kill.

The promise of death was a currency and it paved his path thus far.

So, how could he make an unliving thing pay with its life? This question, he did not have an answer to.

“A little to the left,” you pressed your forehead to the glass, breath fogging it as you spoke

After your three failed claw machine attempts, you turned to him with those pleading eyes and begged for the crow. Of course you could have it. You could have whatever you wanted—the whole inventory of plushies. He’d have them mailed to your house and bury you alive in these critters.

But that suggestion fell on deaf ears.

“No!” You gripped his wrist, just as his dark evol began to envelop the crow. “You have to win it fair and square.”

Sylus blinked at the crow, taunting eyes and stupid neck tutu staring back at him. Then he blinked at you and the pleading on your face destroyed any resolve he had left.

“Alright,” he would make quick work of this, then. Sylus assumed position and aligned the claw just so, perfectly placed to get you the one thing you wanted most which, subsequently, was exactly what he wanted most.

A crow plushie.

Who had he become?

He pressed the button, standing back and crossing his arms in victory as the claw snatched up the crow and carried it over to the drop point—

Only for the crow to fall, just beyond the threshold of the drop.

Eyes flared, lips parted, he was back at the controls in disbelief before he even registered you giggled.

You giggled.

“Is something funny?” He growled, deadly focus on the controls.

You kept your forehead pressed to the glass, staring at the bird. “It’s taunting us.”

Without taking his eyes from the unfortunate target before him, Sylus sipped that fruity nonsense you ordered from the vending machine and nudged the handle bar until the claw hovered over that elusive fucking bird.

One try left. 23 seconds. He took another fruity sip for good measure.

Sylus pressed the button. The claw descended, snatched around plushy and dropped it unceremoniously in the same exact spot.

“Shoot,” you hissed, flattening a palm to the glass. “Oh well. There’s always next—“

Sylus was gone, the rest of your sentence dying in the air.

He returned with a bucket of coins and without so much as a word, slid one into the machine.

“Sylus,” you breathed, grunting as you lifted the bucket—BUCKET—of coins from the ground. “This is, like, a year’s worth of coins, what were you thinking!?”

But your exasperation was cut off by the lights and buzzers of the claw machine sounding. Eyes wide, you dropped the coin bucket with a CLANK and turned to see his smirk on full display.

He pointed to the machine’s door. “Open it.”

And there it was…your crow plushy.

The look on your face was enough to convince him not to light the bird on fire.

“I’m all out of juice and I saw snacks in the vending machine beside it.” Sylus flicked a finger and four coins carried on the dark tendrils of his power flew from the bucket into your hand. “Grab us some? We may be here for a while.”

A small pile of bottles and food wrappers had formed by the time you were asked to leave.

He sent you home with another crow. And the tomato thing that anatomically made no sense. And the dolphin. And duplicates of all of them before he found an attendant to restock the vending machine just so he could clear it out once more for you. A third time to be sure. The manager had to intervene before a fourth time and, had it not been daylight and very public, Sylus would have made an example of him.

But you were glowing with joy, nuzzled into his side, and that, the sensation of your smile blooming on his arm as he won each plushy, was enough to quell the storm rolling inside his chest.

37. You went home with 37 plushies that day, so many, they filled two shipping boxes of them and mailed them to your house—all except for the crow plushy you kept at your side. That, and a half a bucket of coins.

“For next time,” Sylus said, flicking one in the air, pulling you close to him as you walked down the city sidewalk.

“You take this one,” you handed him the crow plushy. “I have the second being shipped to the house. We can each have one.”

Sylus feigned a smile for you and scooped the black bird into his hand. He narrowed his eyes at it, and, if he looked close enough, it was certainly taunting him.

“We could come back tomorrow and try to get more crows,” you said, wrapping both hands around his arm. “I’m sure we could get a whole flock of them.”

“Did you know a flock of crows is called a murder?” Which is what he was nearly about to commit earlier in the day if this crow hadn’t come home with you.

“It’s decided then. I want a murder of crows.”

“For you, kitten? Anything.”

[anneapocalypse]

Anne as good as a point you make about dropbox it doesn't solve the hurdles of 1) need to own new site/app that I'm not already constantly using 2) I'll need to go in and delete it for more space eventually 3) I can also use my solo discord for links and lists and whatever else between devices without involving other other programs.

That is fair, but this raises another question for me.

Do you not have some kind of application that already automatically saves your photos where you can access them on other devices? Doesn't that come standard already installed on most phones? Like for me the default would be Google Photos because I have an Android phone, I just hate the interface of Google photos even before all their recent AI shit so I don't use it and I have Dropbox set up to back up my photos instead. (I do have a premium account because I also use Dropbox for other things.) If I want it to back up other folders, like images I download, I can do that too, or upload an image manually.

This is why the idea of needing to use discord to send an image to another device was baffling to me, like... that functionality is pretty much built into every smartphone already? I'm really curious now if this is a feature fewer people are using.

As far as lists and links go, I've used Google Keep for a long time though I am trying to move away from Google products generally so I am looking for an alternative, but Discord wouldn't have the kind of functionality I want there anyway. I also use Firefox on mobile as well as desktop so any bookmarks I make are synced (though I get that browser bookmarks aren't the fastest way to save a link you want to send to someone else).

[happypopcornprincess]

Chapter 1 || I Can See You

Pairings - Joaquin Torres X fem!Reader

Premise - At a glamorous gala, Y/N's life intertwines with Joaquin's. A pact ensues, while a dangerous mission looms.

Word Count - 2.8K

Warnings: SMUT, Angst, Mentions of blood, domestic violence

a/n - This story is based between the events of Endgame and Brave New World. In this AU, Tony Stark survived and the New characters of the MCU are on the way to be the new recruits of the Avengers. Hope you guys like this <3

Series Masterlist

Avengers Compound, Post Endgame

If it wasn’t for Pepper to quite literally threaten you to attend her Annual Charity Gala, you wouldn’t even be here. The atmosphere around you was straight out of some high society drama. The grey walls of the newly reconstructed avengers compound were covered in silver tones, a huge silver chandelier hanging in the middle of the hall, there was laughter in the air, and everyone was dressed to the nines. 

Just how a party was supposed to be… when the host was the one and only Pepper Potts. Tony was there too, even though his hand was still recovering from the snap, but he was cheery and loud as always.

You sipped your champagne in silence, standing far away from the dance floor. 

You were chosen by Sam from MIT to help the Avengers. You had trained with the new recruits, Kate, Peter… They were good kids. Training with them was… well, it was something. Sam was great, and helped you all adjust. Honestly, the Avengers? They were intimidating. superhuman intimidating. But you had your strengths. Sharpshooting was always your thing. And you threw yourself into the training, every single bit of it. They told you it was for intel missions, to keep you out of direct harm's way. But that wasn't enough. You wanted more. Because you were not aiming for 'safe.' 

You were aiming to be an Avenger.

Your job was to figure out how Kingpin just vanished into thin air after Christmas. The task has taken over your daily routine after you met Kate Bishop. It’s been months of interviewing eyewitnesses, going on the streets undercover, nights of no sleep with a shit ton of coffee, and just when you think you’re about to solve it… you meet a dead end.

“Trying to hide behind the curtains again are we y/n?” Bucky’s voice made you look to your right, and there he was. Standing next to you wearing a sharp three-piece black suit, his hair slicked back.

You finally understood what Steve meant when he would say girls back then would throw themselves at Bucky.

He turned to you in disgust, “Are you checking me out?”

“You wish, asshole.” You mutter in your glass.

You and Bucky had developed an unlikely friendship after the blip bought him back. He was pardoned, and moved into a quaint apartment complex deep in the city, unknown to the fact that you lived right next to his place.

On a stormy night after the nightmares won’t let you both sleep, sharing one bottle of whiskey between you was all it took for you to spill your life to him. You have turned into each other’s best friends and occasional love life advisor, although it was kind of a package deal.

Which is why you knew the reason he was so dressed up for the first time since you met.

“You see Sam anywhere?” he asks you nonchalantly.

You give him a sly smirk, “Why? Can’t wait to shove your tongue down his throat?”

Bucky gives you a sideward glance, and goes back to looking at the crowd.

He was still figuring out his feelings towards both men and women, especially towards one man.

Returning from the Flag Smashers situation, he would not shut up how ‘annoying’ and ‘frustratingly righteous’ Sam Wilson is, how his smirk makes him want to ‘strangle’ him.

You asked him one evening if he was having a ‘full-on-bi-panic’ and he threw a pillow at your face.

“y/n! there you are!” Sam bellows as he walks towards the two of you, wearing a crisp grey suit over a white button up, looking as dapper as always.

“Sam!” you laugh, giving him a tight hug. He was your mentor, someone you looked up to. And hopefully your bestie’s future boyfriend.

“You look absolutely gorgeous!” he threw you one of his classic smiles as he retreated.

You look down to the pastel pink knee length dress you were wearing.

Hustling the life of an avenger straight out of MIT, it was the only dress you owned. And after paying for it out of your own pocket you realize fancy dresses cost a hand and a leg, and you refuse to part from it.

“Thank you Sam I-” you were about to thank him but stopped once you noticed him absolutely gawking at Bucky.

“Hey Bucky.” He smiled.

“Hey Sam.” Bucky gave him a nod.

You almost roll your eyes at the exchange, wondering when they will move on from the weird talking phase.

“Hello.”

An angelic voice interrupted your train of thoughts. Looking away your eyes meet a pair of the warmest brown eyes. He was standing behind Sam. A tall, tan-skinned man, wearing a crisp black suit stood in front of you. His curls fell on his forehead, and his smile was intoxicating.

He looked like a high surf tide; calling out for you to test the waters.

You extend your right hand, smiling at him. “Hey, I’m y/n”

He held it with his right, it made your heart race when he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed your knuckles, his hands warm and his lips soft, sending a jolt through your body.

Oh, he’s mischief alright!

You were left speechless when he straightened, a smirk thrown out your way as Sam spoke up, “This is the guy I told y’all about! Lt. Joaquin Torres.” He slapped a hand on Joaquin’s back, smiling with pride.

“And this is y/n y/l/n, fresh transfer from MIT. She’s our tech genius, and a walking journal on film recommendations.”

Laughter followed as your eyes couldn’t help but stay trained on Joaquin. Thinking back on the time when Sam told the team about the new Falcon joining them after a while, you somehow manage to speak up at that moment, “Welcome to the circus.” You take a deliberately long sip of your float, never breaking eye contact.

He gulped nervously, eyes wide, clearly startled by you flirting. 

“You haven’t had a drink yet Lieutenant? Let’s get you something.” you smile involuntarily.

He stands back for you to lead the way, “Sure. And it’s just Joaquin, please.” he laughs just after, his honey laced voice paired with your tad bit hazy mind doing wonders to your imagination.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/--/-

They keep watchful eyes on us So it's best that we move fast and keep quiet You won't believe half the things I see inside my head Wait 'til you see half the things that haven’t happened yet

“Wait a minute…” you smiled, “you cannot possibly think Love Actually is better than The Holiday?”

“It’s the perfect rom com!” Joaquin laughs, “it covered basically every rom com trope under the sun.”

“But, listen to me, but…” you say, your slightly tipsy self leaning on the wall behind you, as Joaquin stood in front of you, holding his own glass of whiskey, “Quantity never matters in front of quality. All characters in The Holiday are well written with meaningful backgrounds and great character redemption arcs. And it’s got Jude Law.”

Joaquin raises his hands, “Jude Law.”

“Jude Law.” you laugh, at how he was mocking a defeated pose.

“When Sam told me I can’t lose a movie debate with you, I couldn’t believe him.”

You try to curtsey, “thank you.”

“Wanna get out of here?” Joaquin blurted out abruptly.

It took you a while to gain your consciousness, and a laugh left your lips at what he just said. You saw his eyes traveling to your lips, and how his breath fastened as you took a deliberately long sip of your drink.

You smirked, “sure.”

—/—/—

You find yourself sneaking through the backdoor and upstairs towards the living quarters of the Avengers compound as you drag Joaquin by his coat as you slip into an unassigned room. The furniture was still uncovered, but there was a couch in a corner right next to the opened windows where moonlight pooled in.

Perfect.

The alcohol surging through your system gives you newfound courage, and seconds later Joaquin was being thrown on the couch by you. His pupils dilated, his gaze trained on you and his scent lingering in the air, you straddled him without hesitation.

 “Are you good?” His breathy voice went straight to your core, and without a word you crashed your lips on his.

He’s gonna be the death of me.

The taste of expensive champagne hit your mouth, Joaquin’s tongue slipping in your mouth sliding in with fervor. Your gasp is swallowed by his lips, his hands travelling south towards the zipper of your dress.

Your hands fumble with his coat, taking it off of him and raising his shirt just enough to slide your hands underneath. Warm, toned muscles met your hands, and the way he sucked your lips made you forget everything. You couldn’t breathe, but couldn’t move away from him either, entirely lost in taking him in.

Joaquin jerked back all of a sudden, making you whine.

“Wait, wait…” He breathed out, his breath cooling your skin.

“Just kiss me.” You exhaled, grabbing his tie to pull him in, but he leaned back.

Joaquin gently held your wrists, “y/n… hey, look at me,” he breathlessly said, “look at me for a second.”

You do, at his messy hair, puffy lips, and blown out pupils.

He holds out his hand, “how many fingers am I holding up.”

You scrunch your brows in confusion, eyes drifting to his fingers in front of your face. You get the tunnel vision every time you’ve had a bit too much whiskey, you see double.

Concentrating hard on your answer, you slur out, “four?”

Joaquin closes his eyes, looking up and huffing out a breath, “you’re very drunk.” You feel his hands on your waist, and he carefully sits you down on the couch next to him.

You whine at the loss of his touch as he gets up from the couch. He returns a minute later with a bottle of water, sitting next to you and making you drink the entire thing.

“Can we go back to the part where you kiss me until I forget my name?” you breathe out.

Joaquin laughs out, settling down next to you and leaning back on the couch. You straighten your dress, and sit with your shoulders touching. You steal a glance his way.

His coat was gone, his tie hung loose on his neck, his white button shirt straining on his arms…

Someone works out…

The faint moonlight hitting from behind him made the outline of the veins on his neck visible.

I want to lick it...

You scrunch your eyes as soon as you hear that inside your head.

Wow, he’s right, I am drunk.

“As much as I’d like to do that,” he looks your way, “I can’t. You’re very drunk.”

A smile itches on your face, and you ask, “so what should we do then?”

“Talk?” he suggests, turning to you, resting his head on the backrest and looking you right in your eyes. “I know nothing about you. You know nothing about me. Let’s talk.”

You laugh out loud, “okay,” the smile refusing to leave your face, “what do you want to know?”

“Anything.” he says with a warm smile on his face.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

You wake up in an unfamiliar room and a blinding headache, on a mattress too soft for your liking, the sunlight hitting your face with full force.

Grunting, you sit up, rubbing your forehead.

Something slips off your body, and you look down and find someone has covered you with a black suit coat while you slept.

The man with the warm eyes and gentle touch.

You laugh, rubbing your head at the absurdity of the situation.

You wear it over your dress and walk out of the room, after last night’s party everybody would be sleeping in. You can sneak out unnoticed.

You swiftly call an uber, and shove your hands inside the pockets of Joaquin’s coat.

The feel of rough paper makes you stop in your tracks, you take it out of the pocket to see a torn piece of labeling paper inside, a note greeting you.

9546-555-6783 See you soon, I guess? (Take care of my coat till then? It’s my favorite suit.) -         Joaquin

-/-/-/-/-/-

You brush past me in the hallway And you don't think I, I, I can see ya, do ya? I’ve been watchin' you for ages And I spend my time tryin' not to feel it

Joaquin joined the team a week later. He chose to stay on the compound, and soon blended in with the new avengers. Peter and Kate grew especially fond of him. When Shang-Chi joined the ranks, he, too, was welcomed into your close-knit circle.

You spared during training, made breakfast together, had constant debates on cinema and stories. He loved the classics, and you had a nick for science fiction. You should have cancelled out each other, but your differences only made your bond stronger. The differences weren't a barrier; they were a bridge. You shared tech skills learned during your time at  MIT, revealing the details of coding and circuits. In return, he shared practical knowledge from his air force background; survival techniques and tactical strategies.

Your apartment, though smaller than the compound's common areas, became the gathering spot for your group. Lazy weekends of your teams were spent at your place, you'd watch old movies, host game nights, and then collapse on any available surface.

Peter had a habit of entering your apartment through your window, and Kate never got used to it. Takeout was a foreign concept with your friends. Instead, Shang-Chi and Joaquin would take over the kitchen, making a mouth watering combination of asian food and mexican food, that could best possibly win them masterchef if they ever could.

These people, this band of young individuals navigating life… they became your chosen family. They were your support system, your confidantes, your partners in crime.

No one seemed to notice the stolen glances, the lingering touches, the quiet conversations that stretched late into the night. Or perhaps they did notice, and simply didn't care. 

-/-/-/-/-/-

But what would you do if I went to touch you now? What would you do if they never found us out? What would you do if we never made a sound?

Clouds grumbled above, as angry raindrops splattered on your apartment window. You were sitting on your couch with three devices settled in front of you: a laptop and two tablets running algorithms and analytics for locating kingpin. Kate had gathered intel that he still had someone in the states giving him updates and keeping him safe. But where?

That was a question you were determined to get answers to. Which is why you had made it your mission to get to the base of this.

Amidst the thunderous rain outside, you hear a knock on the door, and from the corner of your eye you witness Joaquin enter, carrying takeout containers.

“You’ll have to use the fork for the noodles, I just ran out of chopsticks!” you shout, without even looking at his direction.

“Y/n” Joaquin huffed out in frustration, “please tell me you didn’t ‘sense’ Thai food from me.”

“I did.” you laugh, looking at the bewildered Joaquin standing in your kitchen. He had jeans and a sleeveless gym shirt on. Involuntarily your eyes went to his toned arms, and you did a quick diversion of your thoughts to the TV.

”I come bearing sustenance. Chow Mein and Thai green curry, extra spicy, just how you like it.” he says, followed by the scrunching of the takeout container.

You sit up straighter with a smile itching on your lips, your favorite food just when you were low on inspiration. “You're a lifesaver, these logistics are killing me.”

Joaquin sets the containers on the coffee table. He sits next to you, close enough that your thighs brush. He huffs out, “Tell me about it. Sam's been drilling us on contingency plans all day. I swear, he's got a backup plan for the backup plan.”

You laugh, “That's Sam for you. Always prepared.”

You open the containers, the aroma of the curry filling the room, and digging into the food in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

“You got something on your…” Joaquin speaks, and you look at him with a particularly big bite in your mouth. 

“Hmm?” you mutter.”

He reaches out and gently wipes a bit of sauce from the corner of your mouth. The gesture is intimate, lingering a moment too long. If you don’t count your sparring training, this was the closest you had been since ‘that’ night at the charity gala. Your hands grab his arm on their own.

It feels… good. Too good. It's been so long since anyone touched you like this. Desired you. Like you mattered. Like you weren't just… a disappointment. You… you want this. You want him. 

But what if you mess it up? What if you push him away, like you did with… 

Your heart almost leapt out of your chest as he gently cupped your face in his hands, your gaze locked on his warm brown eyes. He leaned in towards your lips, a silent question in his expression. You paused, a flicker of hesitation crossing your face, and gently pulled back.

He too leaned back, respecting your space. The tension remained, but now it carried a hint of gentle inquiry.

Looking down, you fidgeted with your hands, "It's not that I don't… I just… we need to be sure about this." You huffed out in frustration, trying to articulate your tangled thoughts.

"I want you," he stated, his voice low and sincere. You looked up at him instantly, his pupils dilated, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths. "I want you in ways you can't imagine, y/n. And I will walk out of here right now if you don't want this. We can forget this ever happened."

Thunder roared in the skies above, and lightning illuminated his face through the window as he paused, his expression open and honest. "But," he gulped, his eyes searching yours, "if you do want this… then…"

He left the rest unsaid, giving you the space to make your own choice.

Your internal conflict finally tipped towards action.

Oh, fuck this… 

His words were lost as soon as you crashed your lips on his.

—/—/—

You stumbled into your room, Joaquin’s lips didn’t leave yours as he threw the two of you on the bed. Pulling you under him, his hands were everywhere. Your mind could only catch up with a few, as it was too busy taking in all of him.

Joaquin made you feel like your entire body was on fire. Your hands flew straight to his hair, a moan leaving his lips. You did quick work on his clothes, leaving him in his boxers as he got busy removing yours.

No words were exchanged as he moved low, kissing and sucking your skin in all the places that made your vision hazy. You could only whine and gasp as he grabbed your legs and rested them on his shoulders.

And then he stopped.

You look down to see a mischievous grin plastered on his face, his pupils blown wide.

“Joaquin…” you breathe out, “stop teasing me.”

His eyes darken as he let out a low murmur against your skin and without warning dived in, a loud moan leaving your lips as pleasure rushed through your body.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

And I could see you being my addiction You can see me as a secret mission

“So… what is this?” you ask, lying next to him covered in sweat, panting. You rolled away next to him, completely exhausted from your acts that lasted three blissful hours.

“You’re asking this now?” he mutters, eyes fixed at the ceiling. “I’m pretty sure fraternizing between teammates is not allowed here.” He groans.

You close your eyes, trying to think about if that rule existed among the Avengers. As far as you knew nobody was involved with each other here. “We can be friends.” You suggest.

“What!” you feel the mattress shift and open your eyes to him leaning over you.

 “No, just… think about it.” You shift to lean on the headboard, gathering the sheets to cover your chest, “you’re new to the team.”

Joaquin takes a pillow to cover himself and sits cross-legged in front of you, “okay.”

You stop for a second, staring at his abs.

Y/n stop it! Focus!

“We can’t just go ahead and announce that we’re sleeping together, or dating. They will never let us live this down. Especially Bucky. And Kate. Maybe Sam…” You state, matter of factly.

“Wait, wait! Stop!” he gestures, eyebrows scrunched, “You want to date me?”

“No! I don’t like you like that!” almost scream out, “do you wanna date me?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Then I don’t see a problem with… this!” You throw out your hands.

“What is this exactly?” Joaquin pointed between you two.

You groan, “ugh, you’re as thick as it gets!” You adjust the sheets around your body to free your hands, “what did you think of me the first time you saw me?”

“At the gala? Huh…” he thinks, “That you have the prettiest smile.” he shocks you with the last part, but then he adds on, “also you looked hot in that pink dress.”

There we go.

“Well, I thought you had a great voice, and your eyes were really pretty.” You truthfully admit, “also you looked like trouble… and I have a thing for bad boys.”

“I’m twenty-five.”

“Whatever.”

“You swear you don’t want anything other than sex with me?” he asks you.

You nod, “Yeah. You?”

“I don’t.”

“Okay.”

“Okay!”

Joaquin gets up from his place, picking up his boxers and putting them on, “So just to be clear… we’re friends.”

“Yep!” you catch your sweatshirt that he throws your way.

He puts on his shirt next, “With benefits.”

“Absolutely.” You say, debating whether you should get up the bed or not, exhaustion rolling over your senses.

“And you promise you won’t fall in love with me.” He points to you.

“Oh please, if anything you’ll be falling first.” You say through a yawn.

Joaquin laughs putting on his pants, “well, I’m gonna go get something to eat. You want something?”

“Do you mind if I take a nap? I’m tired.” You grimace.

He smiles at you, “Go ahead.”

You fall back on the bed, as you hear his footsteps going away… the sweet embrace of sleep following you next.

—/—/—

Few weeks later

Your place or mine?

Your screen lit up with the message from Joaquin. You smirked

Yours? In an hour? You press send, and let out a laugh as you see the blue tick instantly.

Done.

Before you could ask him the reason he got so worked up, you hear F.R.I.D.A.Y’s automated voice - Scan. Complete.

A low hum filled the operations center as you meticulously analyzed the fragmented data streams scanned by F.R.I.D.A.Y. Dozens of photographs presented infront of you but your eyes instantly locked in on one in particular. Your focus narrowed on a grainy image emerging from the static. 

Broad shoulders, crisply pressed suit, gold rings on the fingers… could it be…

“Y/n!” Kate and Peter shout in unison as you slapped a stack of files on the kitchen table. Sam, Bucky, Shang Chi, Joaquin, all who were just about to eat, whipped their heads towards the commotion.

“I think I've found him,” you announced, pointing to the figure.

Sam and Bucky shared a look, and rushed towards you as you opened up a holographic display on your tab. Joaquin and you share a look, he was amused, a small smile on his face letting you know he was excited for what you found out, you smirked and quickly look away trying to focus on the scene infront of you.

“All this time I was searching for him here… but…” Cross-referencing facial recognition, thermal readings, and satellite data, you enlarged a section of the display, revealing a stark desert landscape. “The terrain, the temperature… it all points to one place... Mexico.”

A collective sense of surprise filled the room. 

'Mexico?' Peter questioned, 'What's he doing down there?' 

You zoomed in on a satellite image, enhanced thermal readings revealing a network of hidden structures. 'I don’t know, but he's planning something,' you stated, a sense of urgency creeping into your voice. 'Something big.' The implications hung heavy in the air. 

“This changes everything.” You nodded, your gaze fixed on the display. 'We need to move fast.”

To Be Continued...

A/N - Thank you everyone for sticking with me till the end of this fic! if you liked it please let me know through the asks and the comments. Next Chapter will be up soon... Love y'all, Take Care!

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[jsooly]

death in the family (5) / sully family x human!daughter/sister!reader

synopsis, you're plagued with an uneasy feeling that persists day in and day out.

tw. you throw up once, depictions of anxiety

(1) / . . . / (10) / (11* - ur here! ☆)

+ chapters with an * beside it means that it’s following atwow plot line as opposed to disconnected scenarios

a week and a half passed and you were still drawing up empty on ideas to snatch spider from the RDA's clutches. as far as you were concerned, he was constantly with the recom team, sometimes in areas you couldn't access.

"they're going to try and bond with ikran," spider whispered over the comm you slipped on his wrist.

you scoffed, pressing onto your new comm choker. "already?"

"they really want to go 'full na'vi.'"

"you think they'll be able to do it? complete the ritual?"

"honestly..." you heard him sigh softly, his tone begrudging. "as much as i hate to admit it, yeah. they could probably manage it."

you dropped your head into your hands. with each passing day, the situation spiraled just a little further out of your control. sometimes you laid awake in bed staring at the ceiling, a war raging in your mind on what you could handle. this was quaritch you were talking about—the man who hunted and almost succeeded in killing your father once before.

the only thing that pushed you to get up in the morning was the fire burning in your heart. his entire team was dead set on killing your family and regardless of how anxious you were, under no circumstances were you going to let them catch the faintest whiff of the sully's new refuge—even if you didn't know how you'd do so.

"okay, i'll..." i don't know what i'll do, you wanted to scream. "i'll be in touch. stay safe, okay?"

"yeah, i will." spider said hurriedly before the line dropped.

as if your doubts weren't enough to paralyze you, a sinking sensation constantly weighed you down. like a lead ball rooted in your stomach, your gut was trying to tell you that something bad was going to happen. but every situation around you had the potential to crash and burn, you couldn't pinpoint what your premonition was trying to warn you about.

"y/n!" norm exclaimed when you wandered into the break room for a glass of water. he launched from his seat and studied your face carefully. "are you getting enough sleep?" he flattened the back of his hand against your forehead. "you look sick!"

you smiled, trying to reassure his nervous assessment of your state. "i haven't been sleeping well, lately. that's all."

he frowned. "lately? how long has this been going on?"

"uh..." you pursed your lips, pouring some water into your glass. "since they left, actually. it's only gotten worse now."

"i think we should take a medical assessment, just to be safe." he pulled out his tablet and tapped away on the transparent blue screen. "you've been avoiding all the poisonous flora while you're out, right?"

you rolled your eyes, shaking your head. "yes, i have. and i don't need an assessment, norm, i'm just adjusting."

his hands stilled and he slowly pocketed his tablet. he eyed you suspiciously but settled for trusting your word. "...if you say so."

/

afterwards, you retreated to your room. your thoughts trailed back to spider once again. could you switch out his exo-pack somehow? if the tracker was the problem, a simple switch of the mask could give him the freedom to slip away the minute he sees an opportunity.

you weren't naive, however. a trained solider like quaritch would definitely be able to identify the switch if he were to look hard enough. the exo-packs the research department had were old and weathered, nothing near as spanking new as the RDA's updated model.

you pursed your lips as you ruminated in your thoughts. your eyes caught on the faint silvery glow outside your window, even in the bright daylight.

eywa.

respectfully, she was annoying you. she was teasing you with wonder, with a message that you were clearly oblivious to. even worse, you had no way to communicate with her except stare at her spirits dumbly.

this was probably the fifteenth time her sprites popped up, hung around your person, and then disappeared into the forest. it was clockwork. you couldn't go a day without seeing those majestic tendrils floating in your vicinity. you were confused the first time she showed herself up in high camp, and you remained just as confused now.

you appreciated her presence as much as you could before it fluttered off. you sighed and shook your head slightly.

your comm buzzed to life. your fingers automatically raised to accept the call, a habit fostered over the years. "yeah?" you answered.

"they're gonna scale the hallelujah mountains around midday tomorrow. the mountains above that watering hole we used to go to."

you pursed your lips. "if you guys are going to be in close quarters with each other and the ikran, it's too much of a risk for me to try and follow behind you."

"no, you're totally right. i'm just letting you know so you know you have free reign on the ground if needed. their temporary base is near the watering hole, too."

oh? "that's great, spidey. thanks for letting me know." you hummed, the gears in your head turning. "they got backup masks for you? do you know?"

"they got a whole trunk of stuff, m'not sure what's in it, though. i would assume yes?"

"i'll snoop around tomorrow. how long can you hold your breath?"

"huh?"

you smiled to yourself as the pieces fell into place. "just be prepared to break your mask."

/

for the next few hours, you worked to modify one of the exo-packs to match the newer RDA versions. truthfully, they were just darker and thinner, ultimately covering less of the face.

you groaned as you gave up on your endeavor. there was no way the recoms would fall for some half-assed switcheroo like the one you were planning. you needed their model, one that was untouched by the military without any trackers of any sort.

am i really doing this? you asked yourself as you slung your bow and arrow over your chest and slipped out your bedroom window. yes, i am. you sighed in defeat as you rushed towards the RDA base again.

/

night was falling fast over awa'atlu and jake sully was counting heads for the night.

"four," he mumbled to himself as he ruffled lo'ak's head and gently pushed him inside the marui. "good job today, everyone. didn't hear about any trouble."

lo'ak grumbled under his breath as he crouched next to his mother, who caressed his cheek lovingly.

"why are you so upset, lo'ak?" she probed gently. "you had fun today. i saw you."

"he had fun with tsireya!" tuk teased, a wide grin on her face. "oooo, you liiike her!"

lo'ak's head snapped up, his golden eyes glaring. "shut up, tuk."

"hey." jake scolded him, a disapproving look on his face. "that's no way to talk to your sister."

lo'ak rolled his eyes and stormed off to his corner. neytiri sighed and threw more ingredients into the fire, the aromas spilling over into the air.

"why is your brother so upset, neteyam?" neytiri asked tiredly. it was always something with these children.

neteyam pursed his lips. "i think he's just missing y/n."

"we all are," kiri cut in, her tone clipped. "doesn't mean he can be an ass about it."

neteyam shrugged. lo'ak wasn't likely to hear anyone out. he'd probably sort through it himself, if anything. he was probably also at his limit of hearing him lecture his ear off.

"it's been weeks. the longest we've been without her." neteyam, ever the diplomat, reasoned. "we all process differently. you haven't been perfect either."

kiri sat up straighter, indignation written all over her face. "what is that supposed to—"

"okay, okay." jake cut in swiftly. "it's been a good day. let's not end on a bad note, yeah?"

the kids grumbled as they reluctantly bit their tongues.

"dad." lo'ak spoke up, drawing everyone's attention to the boundary of the marui. "your computer's buzzing."

/

for all the pride the RDA possessed, their base was sure easy to infiltrate. it helped that you were one person, already familiar with the layout and camera blind spots, and had a few sedatives at your disposal. gaining an access card was a piece of cake.

you buzzed into the research department, the halls empty and dark. surprisingly, all the scientists were sleeping. you assumed they had dorms, though you did stumbled upon the odd person slumped over their desk.

along the wall there were rows upon rows of exo-packs. you smiled to yourself, swiping one kit with ease and attaching it to your person. getting out was as easy as getting in, and you held onto that access card.

for this to work, you'd need to eliminate all suspicion that the new mask would be tampered with. if the recoms did have spare masks for spider, undoubtedly with trackers in them, you'd have to deactivate them and hide them away somewhere, and give spider a handheld tracker so that the recoms would still be able to see his movement, but could be discarded when he decided to make a run for it.

what if this was all for nothing? you suddenly asked yourself. your stomach sunk, twisted, and flipped all at once. what if you were just as helpless as they thought you were, and you couldn't protect those who mattered most to you?

you felt sick.

you slinked into your room, promptly dropping the new exo-pack on the bed along with your weapons. you stumbled out the door to grab some water.

shut up, you told yourself, aiming to console your raging sense of impending doom. nothing bad is going to happen, i'll make sure of it.

you didn't even believe yourself. your hands shook as you poured your glass. something bad is going to happen. something bad is going to happen.

you were convinced. despite your family safely tucked away in the refuge of the island clans and spider cooperating with quaritch himself, you were on the verge of snapping. you didn't feel something bad was going to happen, you knew it. something was about to go terribly wrong and you knew no matter what you did, it was going to occur anyways.

is this all for nothing?

you set your glass down and tripped over yourself racing to the bathroom. you didn't bother to put the lights on before you keeled over the toilet and threw up.

"y/n?" the light flickered on with a click! and norm stood in the doorway. his brows furrowed in concern. "are you okay?"

you gave him a deadpan look. do i look okay? you wanted to retort.

he smoothed the hair away from your face and really studied you. "okay, i'm not taking any chances." he gives you a stern look. "i need to give you a medical checkup."

you shook your head, drawing yourself to your feet and rinsing your mouth. "m'fine. just... tired." you mumbled before grabbing your toothbrush and cleansing the panic from your mouth.

"you're not fine. this is unorthodox, especially for you. just an hour of your time, if so much. what's your medical history?"

you blinked. growing up on hometree, nothing of the sort was recorded. you were treated as symptoms were presented, going about your day as normal once you were treated. "i don't think i have one?" you spit out the minty foam and packed away your toothbrush again.

norm slaps his forehead in realization. "oh, yes. okay, i'll call your dad to see—"

"no!" you whipped around and latched onto his wrist, your eyes wide. you gave norm an incredulous look. "you can't contact them in any way. what if the RDA picks up on the signal?"

norm paused, his mouth shutting as he pondered your words. his eyes narrowed, and you could see his mind searching for answers. then, "don't worry, bug, i'll encrypt and mask our frequency."

you shook your head, "they'll find them."

"you're being paranoid, y/n."

"they could."

norm's firm hand squeezed your shoulder. "they won't pick up on our conversation. i swear on my life, y/n, okay?"

you stared at him for a moment before relenting, momentarily shocked by your own outburst.

"besides, won't it be nice to see your dad, mom, and the kids again?" norm attempted to lighten the mood.

he left the small room without another word, typing and clicking away at his computer.

you shook your head, struggling to regain your bearings. you're fine, you tried to soothe yourself. you're fine, and so is everyone else.

"your family's on the line," norm was beside you again, grinning as he grabbed your wrists and strung you towards the computer.

"wait—" already? what were you going to say to them?

distance was the strangest thing. put a bit of it between you and the nineteen years you've been by their side seemed foreign all of a sudden.

he sat you down in front of the monitor and you're still reeling, head tripping over itself to catch up to the fact that this was happening, your heart beating obnoxiously loud (could norm hear it?), and the uneasy feeling of something crawling over your skin.

you held your breath as the call connected, the picture of your family coming to life.

you pressed your lips together in a tight-lipped smile. "hey."

jake adjusted the camera, his forearm blocking most of the view for a moment before he drew back, squinting at the screen. then recognition washed over his face and he smiled. "y/n."

neytiri crouched beside him, a bright grin on her face. "how lovely to see you, ma'ite."

"sa'nok, nga 'ur tse." (mother, you look well.) you found yourself smiling, the nerves festering in your body a minute ago vanishing as if they were never there.

jake squinted harder at the screen, peering closely. "are you sleeping enough?"

you rolled your eyes as norm hovered over your shoulder. "no, she is not. which is why i called, actually..."

you sat back as norm and your parents discussed your medical history, but there was nothing out of the ordinary that would explain your insomnia or your severe anxiety.

"this seems sudden," neytiri mused, her brows knitted. her eyes darted to you. "y/n, you must visit your grandmother more often. she will be able to help you rest."

jake shook his head, the motion barely detectable. "norm, what medicine does she need?"

"let's not jump to medicine just yet. neytiri, you said this was sudden. has she never shown these symptoms before?"

"what symptoms?"

"paranoia, an impending sense of doom, uh..." norm glanced at you as he listed them off. "trouble sleeping, you know, stuff like that."

neytiri pursed her lips, taking a peek at her husband. "no, she's never..."

"never seen this before." jake finished, his face full of concern and sympathy. his poor baby suffering oceans away from him, and he couldn't do anything but stare at your forlorn state with guilt.

"no, we have." lo'ak piped up, scooting into frame. your face lifted at the sight of him. as if following his lead, the other kids slowly trickled into frame.

"remember when the RDA first touched down?" lo'ak continued. neteyam's eyes brightened with understanding. "she didn't let me wander around cuz she had a 'bad feeling.'"

"yeah, she was insistent. and didn't sleep after, either. for days." neteyam added. "there've been moments since then where she gets these fits of restlessness and unease."

you shifted in your seat awkwardly. it was odd for everyone to be talking about you as if you weren't there.

"so about two years ago it became noticeable." norm hummed, noting the new information down. "seems like her insomnia is a byproduct of her anxiety. they occur together."

"so, medicine?" jake cut in.

norm pursed his lips. "we have some, but they're strong. i don't wanna put her on those yet." he dragged a chair beside yours. "you know, this call doubles as a reassurance, y/n. they're safe. you can call them as many times as you like to remind you of that when you begin to spiral."

sure, they're safe now. what about when the recoms get their ikran? what about the day a call glitches and the channel is no longer encrypted? you had to find solutions for all these problems or you swore you were going to lose it.

"actually," you leaned forward, finally speaking up. "i'll be fine. i don't want to risk the RDA catching onto the call signals."

norm frowned. "y/n."

"what?"

"i told you i would never let something like that happen."

"you don't know that for sure." you muttered. before norm could protest, you put on a smile and focused on your family. "i hope you guys are having fun. are you swimming a lot?"

tuk grinned, immediately prattling off. "yeah! and we're learning this cool new hand language—"

"sign language." neteyam corrected.

"—because we're underwater for a looong time! i can hold my breath for two minutes!"

your eyes widened. "wooow, tuk. you're only gonna get better from there, huh?"

"yeah, we practice everyday."

after a few more minutes of catching up with each of your siblings, you finally signed off for the night. norm gave you a look.

"what?" you asked defensively.

he shook his head. "you want some sleeping pills?"

you pursed your lips. might as well. "sure."

norm gave you some melatonin gummies before sending you off to bed. he said he'd check on you in an hour or so to make sure you were asleep.

you sighed as you laid your head to rest on your bunk. and for the first time in what seemed like forever, your eyes drooped down, and down, and down, and...

. . .

thanks for reading! <3

taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @dae-dreamer @delirious-dolce @strawbaerriesvt @avatar-lover @ryiana @lxon-kxnnedy @zukki33 @chalahyung01 @ssc7514 @shmaptainbonky @aureolinb @whosbibi2000 @childishname @nen-nyy @moonchildxoxx

© jsooly ‘25

[honeypiehotchner]

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part twelve

I need y'all to know that I'm writing part 18 rn and it's getting GOOD I can't wait this fic is so fun to write and I'm so happy you guys are loving it as much as I'm loving writing it!!! 🤭💞

Warnings: once again they're...getting along? never fear they still argue though, things are...about to get crazy, (i hope we are picking up on the subtle moments of attraction bc they're only going to get worse xoxo)

After three days of straight paperwork — and one annoying HR meeting because someone from a different department must’ve heard you and Hotch arguing and decided to tattle — you’re going insane. You need something else to do besides sit in a chair staring at files all day, listening to Morgan and Reid bicker, and glaring at Hotch every time you catch him looking at you through his office window.

You’ve heard nothing new from the case in Alabama. Radio silence from the unsub. Radio silence from the police. Nothing new from the sketch Lila helped with, too. Nothing at all, with anything.

You’re going stir crazy. 

You need a new case to come in. Given what Strauss told you in that meeting, you expect a new case to come in any minute.

What you do not expect is to come back from lunch on the fourth day to find Strauss in Hotch’s office, or for them to be arguing. With the door open, for god’s sake, so everyone in departments three floors down can hear.

You don’t think before you haul ass up the stairs, especially not after you hear your own name in the midst of their poor attempts to not shout, turning everyone’s heads. Your mind immediately conjures up the worst case scenario: that they’re arguing about your father, about how Strauss let you seal that part of your file, and somehow Hotch found out that she let you, and now it’s all getting blown out of proportion.

You can’t make out the source of their arguing, though, because they’re just shouting nonsense at one another, bordering on insults. 

Jesus, is this what it sounds like to everyone else when you and Hotch argue?

Strauss and Hotch both stop bickering as soon as they spot you hovering in the doorway. You raise your eyebrows at them like a parent catching two siblings in the middle of an unnecessary fight — which isn’t that far off the mark.

“Ma’am,” you nod to Strauss. “Hotch,” you look over at him. “I heard my name. What’s going on?”

Strauss answers, turning toward you, “Richard Monroe has stopped cooperating with the authorities. He’s said he’ll cooperate again, but he wants to speak with you first.”

“No,” Hotch says firmly, one hand planted on his hip, his other hand pointing an accusatory finger in Strauss’s direction, then at you. “There is no reason for Richard to speak with her.”

“Why not?” you ask, trying to keep your tone on the calmer side, at least while Strauss is present. “If it’ll make him cooperate, I’ll talk with him.”

“Thank you,” Strauss says, relieved, before turning to give Hotch a lethal glare. “See? I told you you’re getting worked up over nothing, Aaron.”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, whether to assure yourself or Hotch, you have no idea. “It’s one conversation. It’s not like I haven’t spoken to him bef—”

“It’s not just one conversation,” Hotch fumes.

“Stop acting like I can’t handle this job,” you argue.

Hotch almost looks offended. “That’s not what I’m—” 

“I don’t care what it is,” Strauss shouts over the both of you. “Agent, you’ll speak with Richard tomorrow. I’ve already scheduled it, and I’ll forward you the details. Hotch, I’ll let them know you’ll be attending as well.”

“Excuse me?” Hotch says.

“What?” you blurt at the same time. “I don’t need him to come with me.”

“Well, you’re not allowed to go alone, and frankly, Aaron, if it bothers you so badly, you should go with her, as Unit Chief,” Strauss says, her phone ringing in her pocket halfway through her sentence. “I’m late for a meeting. This is settled. Understood?”

Hotch looks like he’d rather put his own foot up his ass until he tastes the sole of his shoe. “Understood.”

“Yes ma’am,” you nod, stepping aside to let Strauss leave. “Thank you.”

You don’t bother waiting for Hotch to speak before inviting yourself into his office all the way. It takes everything in you not to slam the door behind Strauss. He yanks the blinds closed with just as much anger, chest practically heaving. You’re surprised he didn’t rip them off the wall with the force.

“What the hell was that?” you hiss. These walls, no matter how much you wish they were, aren’t soundproof, and by now you’ve probably attracted the attention of the entire goddamn floor, let alone your nosy teammates who are returning from lunch.

“I might ask you the same thing,” Hotch fires back, rounding his desk. You know what he’s doing, trying to tower over you and intimidate you. It won’t work, not with you. He should know that by now. “Did you know about this?”

“About Richard Monroe being a manipulative piece of shit? Of course I’ve known— I’m not a fucking idiot, Hotch.”

“I never said you were! Stop putting words in my—” he curses, pinching the bridge of his nose before resting his hand on his hip. “I don’t want you speaking to him.”

“Why?”

“Do I need to remind you what happened in that interrogation room?” Hotch says, voice surprisingly calm for how angry you remember him being that day. “He recognized you and you won’t tell me why—”

“Because I don’t know why,” you shoot back. It’s the honest truth, even if there’s pieces of information you could share. But you don’t want to; you’re not ready. “And I don’t know why you don’t trust me, but it’s grating on my nerves, Hotch. You say I’m a valuable asset to this team, yet you’re acting like I’m not capable of speaking to an unsub that I've spoken to before — for an hour.”

His chest is heaving, but he doesn’t say a damn thing. He just keeps standing there, looking down at you, clenching his jaw.

“I’m going to speak with Richard Monroe tomorrow,” you say, standing nearly toe-to-toe with Hotch. “Whether or not you join me is entirely up to you. But if you’re just going to act like this, then,” you gesture between the two of you, shaking your head. “Don’t bother coming. I’ll get someone else to go with me. You can call out sick for all I fucking care.”

You storm out of his office then, slamming the door behind you so hard you’d be surprised if the window didn’t rattle.

You jump when you realize Rossi is standing in his office doorway, watching you.

“What?” you snap. You don’t mean to take the frustration out on him too, but it’s hard not to when he’s lurking like that. 

Rossi raises his eyebrows, backing into his office without another word. 

You can’t deal with this right now.

Hotch’s door opens behind you and you spin around, freezing when you’re face to face with him. His expression is as unreadable as it always is, but you know he’s pissed at you.

“I’m going home to rest up before tomorrow,” you say, making sure your tone conveys it not as a request but a statement of fact. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Hotch nods once and that’s good enough for you, so you turn and head for your desk, gathering your things.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” you say, flashing a tight smile to the rest of the team. “Bye.”

“Um…bye…?” Reid looks around to be sure everyone is as confused as he is. They are, but they all shrug, letting you leave.

Up the stairs, Hotch watches you go, knuckles white from where he’s gripping the railing. He shouldn’t have let you go so easily, but you both need to cool down, and if you’re really going to do this tomorrow, you need your rest. 

From beside him, Rossi pointedly clears his throat.

Hotch turns his head, following Rossi’s silent request to follow him into his office. He pushes the door closed behind him.

Hotch starts to pace, then stops in the middle of the room, lifting his arm and dropping it in a what the hell gesture. “She’s going to speak with Richard Monroe tomorrow.”

“I heard,” Dave smirks. “And you’re going with her?”

“I have no choice, do I?” Aaron replies, rubbing his forehead. “I’ll have to tell her tomorrow. If he says anything else about recognizing her—”

“Are you sure he wasn’t saying that just to get a rise out of her? She’s a new agent, she’s attractive—” Rossi cuts himself off when he sees Hotch’s glare. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes,” Hotch says. “I know.”

“She doesn’t know him, Aaron,” Dave says. “How would she? He’s a serial killer who’s been on the run—”

“He knows things about her childhood, Dave,” Hotch cries. “If he knows about the kidnapping, and her father, then who knows what else he’s heard— who knows what he’ll do—”

“Aaron,” Rossi shakes his head. “I know you want to help her, but you can’t protect her, and she can take care of herself.”

“I know she can,” Hotch says, dropping his hand in defeat. “I know.” You’ve been taking care of everything ever since he first met you. He knows you’re more than capable.

He just doesn’t want to find out what happens when you face something you can’t handle alone — and if he’s the one who lets you go at this alone, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

He can’t shake the gut feeling that you’re in way over your head and you don’t realize it. Because you don’t even know what you’re dealing with.

+++

You hardly sleep at all, so you’re in a piss poor mood the next morning, and you blame Hotch for it. Naturally.

So, of course, it also irritates the fuck out of you when you arrive at the office and there’s a coffee waiting on your desk. And an apologetic looking Unit Chief standing next to it, identical coffee cup in hand.

You toss your purse down in your chair, glaring at Hotch. “Are you in a better mood today?”

“Peace offering?” he says instead, gesturing to the coffee on your desk.

“Did you poison it?”

He stares at you tiredly.

You pick it up, keeping your eyes on him as you inhale the steam still rising from the hole in the lid. “What is it?”

“Your favorite,” he replies. “Thought it might make the drive easier.”

“Oh?” You smirk. “Am I driving?”

“No,” he scoffs — which oddly almost sounds like a laugh.

You snicker, bringing the cup to your lips. You don’t miss the way Hotch’s eyes follow the motion, or the way they get stuck on your lips before he averts them, like he senses he’s been caught.

It takes everything in you not to call him out on it. You settle for tasting your coffee and letting out a noise of surprise.

“What?” Hotch asks. “Is it wrong?”

“No, it’s good,” you reply quickly. “It’s right. Thanks.”

He nods once. “Good. Um, I’ll be in my office. We’ll leave in about an hour.”

“Sounds good to me,” you nod, raising your cup in cheers. “See you in a bit.”

Hotch heads up to his office without another word, leaving you with a whole world of confusion. 

He’s buying you coffee now? Seriously?

Thank god no one else was here to witness that. You’d never live that one down if Morgan heard all of it.

You shove your purse aside and sit down, putting your head in your hands. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself, continuing the long process of mentally preparing for speaking with Richard Monroe today.

“Long night?” 

You raise your head to glare at Morgan, but it holds no real heat. You’re too tired and you’re not even mad at him. “Don’t even get me started.”

His mouth forms an ‘o’ as inhales sharply. “That bad, huh?” He drops his bag next to his desk, instead coming over to prop himself on the edge of yours. “Talk to me.”

“Morgan,” you sigh, dropping your head back into your hands. “Not today, seriously.”

“What’s happening today?” he asks. “You never did say why you left so suddenly yesterday.”

You lift your head and glance toward Hotch’s office, slightly relieved to find his door closed and his head turned down toward paperwork on his desk. When you look back at Derek, he does the most not-subtle look over his shoulder at Hotch before looking back at you.

“No.”

You lean back, eyebrows furrowed. “No what?”

Morgan starts to grin. ���You two finally get your shit together?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I see how it is,” Morgan chuckles, lightly tapping your shoulder. “Come on, tell me. Who made the first move?”

“Get off of my desk,” you say through gritted teeth, shoving his leg. “Nothing happened. I have to go speak to Richard Monroe today and Hotch is coming with—”

“What?” Morgan asks, incredulous. “Richard Monroe? Why him?”

“Because he’s not cooperating with the investigation anymore but says he will if he speaks to me first,” you explain like it’s nothing — because it is. “Strauss told me about it a couple weeks ago.”

“No,” Morgan shakes his head. “I don’t like the idea of this.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing your coffee. “Now you sound just like Hotch.”

“Good,” Morgan slides off your desk, shrugging. “‘Cause this doesn’t sound like a good idea. You had a panic attack after talking to him.”

You shake your head. “That’s not—”

“I know what those look like,” Morgan argues. “Whether or not that’s what you call them, that’s what they are.”

“Leave it alone,” you warn.

He holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright. Just— You know the drill. Call me if you need me. And try not to kill him,” he adds with a quick glance up to Hotch’s office.

“No promises,” you reply, tipping your coffee back.

+++

When Hotch comes down to the bullpen an hour later, you notice everyone’s eyes zeroing in on his coffee, then yours, taking note of the matching cups. Prentiss is first to raise her eyebrows at you. You give her a look that just says don’t. She says nothing, but her smirk tells you she’ll be messaging the group chat about it later.

“Ready?” Hotch asks.

“Yep,” you nod, grabbing your purse and standing. You offer a mock salute to the rest of your team. “See you on the other side.”

Morgan laughs, shaking his head at you. “Try not to kill each other. Please.”

You and Hotch roll your eyes at the same time, freezing when you catch the other doing it.

It takes a surprising amount of effort on your part to not smile.

You swipe your coffee off your desk, downing the last remaining drops as the two of you walk toward the exit. “Thanks for this again, by the way,” you say quietly, tossing your empty cup in the trash can in the hall. “You didn’t have to.”

“It’s not a problem,” he replies, tossing his as well while you hit the down arrow on the elevator.

The silence blankets you both inside the elevator as you stand as far apart as possible. Like you both know you need to cherish your personal space before you’re stuck in a car together for three straight hours — one way.

Since Hotch is driving, you head toward where you know his car will be in the parking deck. The spaces aren’t even assigned; he’s just a creature of habit. You, on the other hand, hardly ever park in the same spot. Hotch has always wondered why.

“If this radio turns on and starts playing some classical music bullshit, I’m going to be so disappointed in you, Hotchner,” you tease as you buckle yourself in.

Hotch says nothing as he turns the key in the ignition. A second later, The Beatles’s white album fills the car. Namely, the song “I Will”.

“Seriously?” you grin. “The white album?”

“What’s wrong with it?” he asks, immediately on the defensive.

“Nothing,” you hum, looking out the window. “I’m partial to Abbey Road.”

“Of course you would be.”

Your head whips toward him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs. “Nothing.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s smiling. 

You narrow your eyes before turning your head, biting back your own smile for the second time this morning.

Maybe you are warming up to each other — slightly — or maybe it means nothing. 

Whatever it is, you don’t have time to think about it today. You have a serial killer who wants to speak with you, who somehow knows who you are despite you having never met him before, and the only explanation must have something to do with your father — who Hotch still knows nothing about.

[valentine-cafe]

˖⁺. “ you're coming with me ” : 

﹙ yandere demon x gn reader ﹚.𖹭 ݁

. . . valerius ariti x gn reader !! 🍓 : ﹙ demon lord ˖ rhytaari character ﹚

you catch the eye of a demon. it's more than that. it's obsession. so much so that he intends to drag you down to hell itself with him.

﹙ cws ﹚: dark content ˖ yandere tendencies ˖ forced kissing | wc : 0.8k 

﹙ receipts ﹚: some sides tp valerius that you should see <3

꒰  other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore  ꒱

When light knows dark for long enough, it may see it long enough for itself to become the abyss it has stared at for centuries

It feasts away at anything that comes into contact with it. The shine of stars, the shimmer of light that lives way below the surface and inside of the soul.

The prince of failure knows such concept better than anyone. One as himself, who faced rebirth in the darkness and feasts away at it like the rest of the devils and gargantuans that haunt the grounds of the abhorration.

Pure light like you. . . Oh yes, a taste of the ages that he loves to savour and corrupt slowly, and ever as sweetly at times. He's drunk on the taste of your skin, the feel of your body against his. Demonic urges be the winner of him. You are someone who he has to have.

A pretty new gem to his collection of broken lovers and pretty past time worshippers that have come far and wide to see themselves with the prince who has discarded them long ago and left them nothing but devotees and advocates of his causes. Spreading his cult across different lands like the plague.

You weren't aware of his obsession towards you.

All but a mere inhuman artist in the vast world of 781. A 3rd year attendee of the ECU, with the art class major. His infatuation had grown to grave lengths after conversing with you.

There was something about you. Touch, voice and laugh. Why, they were each and on their own enough to make the flowers of the earth sigh in refreshment. And whenever you walked away from him in the hallways to get to your other classes, he felt this need to reach out and grab you. Preventing you from making another move.

That would not be enough, and he would not wish to damage the foundation of friendship the two of you had built. He craved for something more, however, and his urges got him before sense did.

Such is the life of a rhytaari, who dwells the grounds of the abhorration as not only a demon but a man who strives to have back something pure in his life each time the old breaks.

"Valerius—"

Delicious. . . The panic in your voice was absolutely delectable.

Gently, his knuckles made long strokes down your cheek, to soothe and reassure you that you were going to be alright. You'd looked so beautiful in your sleep, and he was able to be quiet for the most part as he drew the circle around your bed to open a portal straight to his temple in the realm of the abhorred.

He could have taken you simply, sure. With the possibility of dizzying you at the sheer amount of power he uses normally to teleport himself from place to place.

A portal would be easier. Less straining and worrisome on your soul.

"Shhh,"

Shivers shoot up your spine. Nausea cranked up to a max in your gut. Every part of your intuition is screaming at you. About how none of this is normal, about how you need to get up and run.

But run where?

Gods of the realms might as well come laugh you into your face at the notion of trying. You're not getting out of this regardless.

"It shall be alright, I will take care of you."

You thought you knew the man in front of you. Yet from now to when you last saw him. His entire appearance has changed. Gold litters every part of him, be it jewellery or makeup. His hair floats in the most enamouring manner possible. Yet you find yourself too disturbed to care much at the very moment.

"I don't want to do what you want." You let out. Regretting it instantly, as his eyes go from having hopeful glee in them, to darkness that pitted the deep vapour of the abyss.

"You will do what I am doing for you. This is for you." He calmly responds, as his hand shoots up to take hold of your jaw in a firm grasp. It brings you forward into a kiss. Golden lips drunkenly feeding off of the small cries and sobs you let out. The fear makes him feel high.

"You're hurting me—"

"I would never put you to any harm, stop crying." He sneers against your lips, teeth grazing against your bottom lip to bite at it. Your body stiff and for his taking the second his left arm swoops you into it's hold and he tilts back into the portal.

As the both of you fall through skies of red, skies of the damned, he grins at you like a madman. Hearts in his eyes as though you are his most beloved.

You are, to him. Why can't you accept that? He just wants to love you.

"Mine." He cries out in glee, clawing golden wounds into your skin. "All mine at last,"

"None will hurt you here."

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[sciencebecameouraddiction]

title: black jack can mend a heart

author: sciencebecameouraddiction

fandom: hazbin hotel

rating: PG

genre: angst / romance / fluff

pairing: husk x reader

summary: request:

Maybe Husk has been feeling insecure lately and feels that reader could do better than him. So she gifts him the cute "52 Reasons Why I Love You" personalized card pack? (I love those DYI gifts) 

“Well, hello there sugar.” A smooth voice came from your left side as you sipped on the drink Husk had kindly made you. 

“Hello! You must be new?” You ask, turning to look at the stranger fully. He was very attractive, and very tall, looking down at you due to his height. A smile that was more a smirk adorned his face. 

“I am.” He says, holding out his hand. “Names Marcel. What’s a pretty lady like you doing here?”

“Other than being redeemed, not sure much else.” You laugh.

“No, no, you got ya drink, why aren't ya mingling? Why’d I have to come over here to find a pretty thing like you?” He chuckles at the blush that appears on your cheeks and boldly tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. For a moment you are glad that Husk had to step away from the bar. 

“I like to sit at the bar to keep my boyfriend company.” You mention, stepping back just a bit from the other demon.

“Oh, ya got a boyfriend? I’m so sorry then! I’ll be seeing ya around.” The other demon quickly steps back and walks away, the sigh leaving you is one of relief. You don’t see though, Husk standing in the doorway with a direct view of the bar, seeing the whole interaction. 

He always felt like you deserved someone better, someone more than him. He could see that this demon wasn’t owned by some overlord, and he came to the hotel for the same reason you did. He knew you had promised not to even attempt redemption until both you and Husk could do that together, but that seemed to be something that was in the far future. He sighed as he approached the bar, setting down the restocks that were needed and putting them away.

You could sense something was wrong. Husk was normally quiet but this was earrily off. Watching him closely as he paid not a bit of attention to you and was very focused on the glasses in front of him, you knew something was bothering him.

“Husk?” Voice gentle but loud enough to be heard by the bartender. His grunt of acknowledgement made your brow furrow and confirmed your suspisions that something was wrong. “What’s up, baby?” You said, coming around the bar and standing next to him, seeing his body freeze at the term of endearment. 

“Nothin’.” His grumble back was defensive yet, flippant, trying to get you off his back.

“Not going to happen this time, darling. You’re not shaking me so easy. What’s got you down?” You ask, wrapping an arm around him and looking at him, his eyes refusing to look at yours. 

“I-It’s nothin’.” His repeated answer gets a sigh from you and kiss on the cheek. “C’mon… tell me.” Your voice partially taunting.

“You’re ridiculous.” He pans, finally looking at you. 

“Yeah, but you’ve finally looked at me. So, I consider that progress. What’s going on?” Your hand reaching up to his face, gently smoothing his cheek, brushing up and smoothing the forehead crease he got when he was annoyed.

“That demon looked awfully comfortable with you.” 

“The one that was talking to me earlier?” His nod answers your question. “He wanted to know why I was over here and I told him I was keeping my lovely, handsome, sexy boyfriend company who just so ahppens to also be the bartender.” You smile at him as this gets the smallest smile on his face. It drops suddenly and you look behind you to see Alastor. A dark look passing over Husk’s face as he turns from you. 

“You deserve someone better than me. Like the demon talking you up.” He moves further away, his shoulders squaring as if he was preparing for an attack. “You should go find him, I wouldn’t blame ya.” You hum and quickly put two and two together. You slip away and don’t catch Husk’s eyes widen as you do, a quick mask pulled back over as his thoughts now went into overdrive.

_________________

Finally, the gathering was done. The bar was closed. Husk was free. At least for the next ten hours or so. He sighed, ascending the stairs and stopped when he heard Alastor’s voice, “Have a good night Husker! Tell your lady friend I said hello!” 

Husk growled under his breath and ignored the other Overlord, hearing his laughs as he got to his room.  He sighed, resigned to a night alone. That was until he opened his door and found you sitting there on his bed. His room tidied up, and a pack of cards in your hands. 

“You’re here.” His voice sounded rougher than usual. 

“Of course I am.” Your smile and tone making it seem like this outcome was obvious. “I missed you though. I wanted to get you something special, so I grabbed a pack of playing cards and figured we could play Blackjack. I’ll deal?” You say and his eyes gleam. 

“I’d love that.” His head nodding as he walked into his room and shut his door, taking off his shoes and suspenders. He sits across from you as you take out the cards and shuffle. 

“How was the rest of your shift?” You ask.

“It was fine. Alastor’s a prick.” Husk grumbled. “Where did you go?” He asks, almost hesitant, like he doesn’t truly want to know the answer. You look up with knowing eyes and smile. 

“You’ll see in a minute.” As you finish shuffling and nod down to the bed, starting to deal. He sees writing on the back of the cards and squints, looking up at you for any sign of you seeing the same. You continue to deal and he picks up his card reading it. “I love your laugh, and how I’ve been the only on who’s gotten to hear it.”

His cheeks go red as he sees writing on your card and as if he was in a trance, he picks it up too. “I love watching you Bartend, you make drinks so effortlessly, its like magic.” 

He picks up cards as you keep placing them down, reading them, realizing that each card had something written on it that you loved about him. 

“I love the way that you look out for people.” 

“I love how you hold me after I’ve had a bad day.” “I love that you are so knowledgeable and smart.” 

“I love that you continuously try to be a good person.” 

“I love your wings.”

“I love how I can just look at you and we can communicate.” 

With the last card saying, “I love you.”

He looks up, tears in his eyes. 

“Oh no, Husk, was this too much? I’m so-“ You don’t get to finish your sentence as Husk launches himself at you, his mouth on yours immediately. Desperate and clutching at you like you were more important than air at that moment. His tears mingling with the kiss and even falling on your cheeks as you tried to sooth him by dragging your hands down his back and back up.

“No one…” His voice rough as he parts from you finally. “No one has ever done anything like this for me. No one has ever loved me like this.” His hands cradle your face. “Thank you.”

You smile back at him, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Of course. You love me just as fiercely.” Your hand brushes at his face, clearing the rogue tears. “I’ll be here to do so for forever.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” 

[icedout-pacemaker]

He was the uncle that everyone had written off after he'd gone to jail. I hadn't even been speaking full sentences the last time I saw him, but had decided to reconnect with him after he sent me a card on my 19th birthday.

We started writing each other more often, updating each other on our lives when I realized that the prison he was being held at wasn't even that far and he was due to be released within the next year. So I picked up one day and made the drive to visit him. He was tall and seemed like a big teddy bear, a little nervous to see me. But by my third visit, we were getting along and talking and laughing.

Despite warnings from family, I told him that he would have a place at my small apartment where he could pick himself back up and I would help him however I could. He held my hand in the visiting room and thanked me with the most earnest gaze I had ever seen.

After a year of letters and monthly visits, he is finally released. I go to pick him up and drive him to my apartment, showing him the modest space as well as the couch that I had pulled out for him, a bag of sundries and a new outfit for him to wear. I could tell he was looking at me more and he seemed quieter, but I figured he was just overwhelmed.

He says he wants to cook dinner for me to thank me and suggests we watch a movie together. I agree and dress down for the night, wearing my shorts, tank, and a loose, open robe. He still had his prison sweats on and one of the tank shirts from the bag I had gotten him. He makes spaghetti and he sprinkles a little parmesan on my plate and then his. The parmesan seems a little finer on mine and I ask for more. He happily packs it on until I have to laugh and pull the plate away from him, taking a seat on the couch as we sit and eat while watching some three star movie n Netflix about a secret agent or something.

I know they say that pasta has a way of making you feel sleepy but was that what I was feeling? I mostly felt hot, and a little slower in movement. He tells me I should take my robe off and I do with his help, his big hands on my shoulders as he moved it to the side. He was still leaned into me, whispering something in my ear. I don't know what he's saying and ask him to repeat himself, but I still can't hear him properly, rubbing a hand on my clavicle as I try to cool off. He leans over a bit until his hands on are on either side of me, holding my upper arms to keep me upright.

I can feel his chin on my shoulder, his eyes pointed down at the break between my breasts. He asks me something about how big they are? Or, no, wait. Maybe he was asking me about something else? His hands rub up and down on my arms down, which only makes me feel hotter. I think I need to lie down, and he agrees, accidentally brushing the straps of my tank top off my shoulders as he lays my head in his lap, stroking my hair.

I try to get up but he keeps my head against his lap and tells me to relax, still stroking my hair. It's too hard to fight it, so I stay put, trying to keep my eyes from closing, but eventually let them close too. I can feel him shifting under my head. Probably trying to get comfortable. Something warm presses against my face and I try to blink before something is in my mouth, pulsing and warm. Was he...?

He starts to thrust up, his cock sliding down my throat. He starts slow, like he's trying to gauge how much I can take before he starts to move fast. I turn from my side, trying to brace against his thigh. But I only make it easier to thrust into my mouth and he carefully holds my head down from the back, thrusting up into my throat. I can hear him groan, the wet sound of his cock filling my throat suddenly the only sound in the room I can hear. He pushes my head down more, his thrusts becoming harder and faster. I can feel him twitching against my tongue. I can tell that he's close.

The moment he feels it, he buries his cock down my throat, his hips bucking as he rode out cumming, the warmth sliding down my throat without ever touching my tongue. When he pulls me off, I cough, forced to look up at him as he holds my chin, looking at my pathetic expression. He doesn't look like the man I had been contacting all this time. He looks more sinister, no softness to his eyes. And when he lays me on my back and starts to pull off my shorts, I know it is going to be a long night of hindsight.

[1byhwng]

“You’re so ambitious for a juvenile.” — bangchan

The soft hum of the city outside is a stark contrast to the silence that fills your mind. The café is quiet for a Tuesday afternoon, the clinking of cups and low murmurs of conversation all that remains of a world you once felt part of. You sit at a small table, your coffee going cold, staring out at the bustling street as if it holds the answers you’ve been yearning and searching for.

"Slow down, you’re doing fine. You can’t be everything you want to be before your time," the song drifts softly from the cafe’s speakers. You let it wash over you, the simple words echoing inside your chest, reminding you of how far you've come—how much you’ve pushed yourself to be something, anything, other than just… you.

"You’re so ambitious for a juvenile," the words hang in the air, and you feel a tug at your heart. All this ambition, all these dreams. But for what? You feel the weight of your constant striving, as if you’re chasing something that’s always just out of reach.

You’re not sure when it happened, but the lightness you once carried in your chest has slowly morphed into a weight. Somewhere along the way, you stopped living for yourself and started living for the next task, the next project, the next expectation. Each day feels like it’s defined by the things you need to do, the things you should do. And the dream of Vienna, something you’d always pushed to the back of your mind, has somehow become a distant hope—a place to breathe, to be free, to just… stop.

But just as you're lost in the silence, the door to the café opens, and a new presence walks in.

A man, about your age, with dark hair, wearing a worn leather jacket and an easy, effortless style that makes him stand out immediately in the crowd. There’s something magnetic about him. He moves with a kind of quiet confidence, the opposite of the frantic energy you’ve become accustomed to. You glance up for just a moment, your eyes meeting his, and you quickly look away, your heartbeat suddenly a little too fast. He doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he does, but if he does, he doesn’t make it obvious.

He orders a drink, and you try to go back to your coffee, but your gaze keeps drifting back to him, as if something pulls you in without you even meaning it. He sits at the table next to yours, his attention on the book in front of him, his eyes moving across the pages with that same quiet intensity that makes him so intriguing.

You’re not sure why, but after a few moments, you feel the sudden urge to speak, to bridge the gap between the silence.

"Do you always drink your coffee this slowly?" His voice is calm, soft, with a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

You blink, caught off guard by his question. "I—uh—just needed a moment," you reply, unsure why you’ve opened up so easily. There’s something about him, something in the way he listens without judgment, that makes you feel at ease. You can almost feel the tension leaving your shoulders just by speaking to him.

He laughs softly, and the sound is warm, genuine. It’s the kind of laugh that makes you feel like you’ve known him longer than just a few seconds. "I get that," he says. "Sometimes, it feels like the world’s moving a bit too fast, doesn’t it?"

You nod, surprised at how easily the words spill from your lips. "Yeah, exactly. Like you’re always running and never actually getting anywhere. Then you feel the stress and you..” The honesty surprises you, but with him, it feels natural. Safe. “Shut down?” He finishes, letting out a low chuckle.

He studies you for a moment, as if seeing something deeper than just your words. "I’m Christopher," he says, his voice steady but with a slight hint of curiosity. "But you can call me Chan."

"Chan," you repeat, testing the name on your tongue. It feels right. "I’m… well, I’m just… me." You offer a half-smile, realizing how vague and cryptic that sounds. "I guess that’s all I’ve got."

"Just you," he echoes, a knowing look in his eyes. "That’s the most important thing to be, don’t you think?"

His words hang in the air, settling over you. There’s a kind of simplicity in them, a truth you’ve been too busy to see. It’s almost laughable how long it’s been since you allowed yourself to just be—without expectations, without chasing, without trying to be someone you thought you had to be.

The conversation continues, light at first, a back-and-forth exchange about the usual—work, life in the city, and the oddities of living in a world that feels like it’s always in motion. But as you talk to Chan, you begin to notice how he listens—not just with his ears, but with his whole being. His eyes never stray, and there’s a focus in his gaze that makes you feel like you’re the only thing in the room. It’s rare, almost disarming.

As the days pass, the interactions become more frequent. You both find yourselves at the café at similar times, almost like clockwork. At first, it’s the occasional exchange of pleasantries—a smile, a hello, the occasional comment about the weather or the coffee. But soon, the conversations deepen. You talk about everything—your hopes, your fears, your frustrations about feeling stuck, the pressure you put on yourself. And as the moments stretch, you start to see something in him, something beyond the easy smile and the casual conversation.

There’s a warmth there, something genuine, but also a quiet sadness, a weight in his eyes that mirrors your own. You wonder if he, too, has been running—chasing something, anything.

One afternoon, it’s just the two of you at the café, the rain pouring heavily outside. It’s colder than usual, and the lights inside are dim, casting soft shadows across the room. The conversation meanders through a variety of topics before settling into a comfortable silence. The only sound is the soft patter of the rain against the windows, a backdrop to the quiet understanding between the two of you.

"I don’t know what it is about this place," you finally say, breaking the silence. "But every time I come here, I feel like I can think. Like I can finally stop pretending to be something I’m not."

Chan looks at you, his gaze soft, understanding. "Maybe that's because this place doesn't expect anything from you. You don’t have to prove anything here."

You nod slowly, letting his words settle over you. It’s true. For the first time in so long, you don’t feel the pressure to be anything but who you are. The ambition, the drive—it all feels a little less important in this moment, when you’re simply being.

"I’ve been thinking about something," you admit, your voice quiet. "I’ve been running so hard, trying to build something, trying to be something, but I don’t even know why anymore."

Chan’s eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the world feels like it’s standing still. He’s not rushing, not pushing, just waiting for you to figure it out on your own.

"Maybe," he says gently, "it’s time to stop running."

And in that moment, you realize—you don’t have to run anymore. You don’t have to be anyone but who you are. The idea of just being, just existing, feels like a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

You’re not sure when it happened, but you realize you’ve been falling. Falling in small, quiet moments—over shared laughter, in the way he listens to your thoughts without judgment, in the way he makes you feel like it’s okay to just be.

And when Chan catches your gaze, his eyes soft but searching, you wonder if he feels it too. The moment stretches, fragile and delicate, and you know deep down, this is just the beginning of something new. something good?

[kikyoupdates]

Girlfriend-For-Hire ⭑˚🦋⭑ 𝟶𝟽

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

Hoping to try something new and earn a bit of money on the side, you join an app that lets people hire you for your dating services. The idea is pretty straightforward — you pose as the client's girlfriend for a brief period of time, and in turn, you receive payment. But you didn't foresee everyone getting so attached to you, and suddenly, they're no longer satisfied with a fabricated relationship.

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“Come here, little ducks. I’ve got a bunch of yummy seeds for you guys to eat.” 

You crouch down, leaning closer to the edge of the lake as you scatter seeds across the water’s surface. They all come flocking around, trying to gather the food up as quickly as they can.

“They like it,” you beam towards Liam. “Good idea bringing all these seeds along. It’s been a while since I got to do something like this.” 

Liam smiles back. “Don’t mention it. You look like you’re having fun.” 

“Mhm! I love animals. They’re so cute and interesting. And even if we don’t completely understand them, it’s cool how they find different ways of communicating with us.” 

“Yeah, there’s all kinds of crazy stuff going on in the animal kingdom. Animals are a lot smarter than some people give them credit for.” Liam pauses for a moment, then sheepishly scratches his head. “When I was younger I actually wanted to become a veterinarian. But obviously there’s a lot of work that goes into that sort of thing. Even if I went to university, I’m not sure I would’ve had what it takes.” 

Axel leans over his boyfriend’s shoulder and pouts. “Don’t say that, babe. You’re super smart. You always learn things way faster than I do. I bet you could have easily done it. And it’s never too late to start, right?” 

“It’s fine,” Liam chuckles, tousling Axel’s hair. “It’s not like I’m not happy with my current career. I was just imagining another outcome, that’s all.” 

“Well, if you ever find something else you want to try, I’ll be right behind you. You should be able to do whatever makes you happy.” 

Axel wraps his arms around Liam and gives him a big hug, and even though this date is technically supposed to be between all three of you, you can’t help but feel like you’re slightly out of place. They’ve just got such a sweet and lovey-dovey relationship. It’s enough to make you blush. 

“Thanks for saying you’d support me,” Liam smiles. He squeezes Axel’s hand, then crouches down beside you. “Anyways, I didn’t mean to go off on a tangent. I just wanted to say I really like animals too. Oh!” 

His eyes widen, and at first you’re not sure why, but then you follow his gaze and realize that one of the smaller ducks has decided to climb out of the water. It stands up on its cute webbed feet, spends a few moments shaking its tail feathers off, then proceeds to tilt its head at you and stare. 

“I think it might want to say hi,” Liam whispers, being careful not to scare the duck off. 

“That or it wants more birdseed,” you whisper back. 

“Ah. Yeah, that’s probably it.” 

“I’ve heard ducks can be pretty aggressive, you know,” Axel remarks to no one in particular. You notice that he’s not getting close to the duck like you and Liam. He’s probably not that big on animals.

“You’re probably thinking of geese,” Liam dismisses. 

“Nah, ducks too. I’ve definitely heard that they can get really territorial and stuff.” 

“Is that why you’re standing so far back? Because you’re scared of this one little duck?” 

“...no.” 

Axel crosses his arms and frowns, but he still doesn’t step up, so honestly, it’s not too convincing. 

You and Liam exchange knowing looks, even chuckling a few times under your breaths, but before you can consider teasing Axel any more, the duck walks right up to you and lets out a proud, resounding quack. 

“Aww,” you gush. “Look at this cutie.” 

“He’s adorable,” Liam nods in agreement. “Here, little guy. We’ve still got lots of seeds left for you.” 

Both of you hold out hands filled with birdseed. The duck takes a moment to ponder its options, then starts pecking at the seeds directly from your palm. You giggle at the sensation of its beak nuzzling your skin. 

“Damn, lucky!” Liam whines. “I want to feed him too.” 

“We can take turns. Here, I’ll pull my hand away so he can go over to you next.” 

You do just that, and unsurprisingly, the duck heads directly towards the nearest source of food. Liam’s eyes are practically glowing with excitement as he watches the duck happily eat straight from his hand. 

Axel shakes his head. “Man. Aren’t you guys scared he’ll bite your fingers off?” 

“Ducks don’t have teeth, Axel,” Liam sighs. He gives you a look that seems to say, ‘Sorry about him. He’s hardly a duck connoisseur.’ 

“But they can still bite, I’m pretty sure.” 

“Are you seriously scared of ducks? How am I just now finding out about this?” 

“Pfft.” You giggle and tentatively reach a hand out while Liam feeds the duck, and as chance as would have it, the duck sits still and lets you pet its back (much to Axel’s horror). 

Honestly, if it was up to just you and Liam, you probably would have played with the ducks for an absurd amount of time, but you feel bad that Axel isn’t being included in this activity, so you suggest doing something else. 

“That was fun, but you mentioned wanting to get something to eat, right?” 

“Yes,” Axel says, exhaling loudly. “Yes, finally. No more ducks. I don’t want to see any more ducks ever again.” 

Liam shakes his head. “I still can’t believe my boyfriend is scared of ducks.” 

“I already said I’m not scared of them! Anyways, whatever! Let’s just go!” 

He storms off comically, and once again, you and Liam proceed to look at each other and burst out laughing.

You walk back the way you came from and eventually leave the park. Axel already seems to have a few places in mind for where you can go to grab food, and he looks excited to voice his suggestions. 

“This place has really good reviews,” Axel beams as he swings the front door open. 

“I’m sure it’ll be great. You always know how to pick them,” Liam encourages. Axel nods happily and steps inside the restaurant, and while his back is turned, Liam leans in to whisper in your ear. “Please just humor him. Even if the food’s bad, try not to let it show. He gets really bummed out about these kinds of things.” 

So, he’s scared of ducks and also gets all pouty when things don’t go his way. That’s kind of cute.

You sit down at one of the booths and start skimming through the menu. Thankfully, it looks pretty promising. Odds are that everything will taste great and Axel’s feelings will be spared.

You end up being seated right in between Axel and Liam, which feels a bit strange, since it’s sort of like you’re acting as a barrier between the couple. They seem fine with it though, and you suppose this is supposed to be a date involving you as well. So far it’s felt more like hanging out with your friends, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, especially since you’re getting paid on top of everything else. 

“What are you gonna get, [Name]?” 

Axel leans over, bumping shoulders with you in the process. The booth is big enough for the three of you to sit comfortably, but he isn’t shy about getting close. The lack of distance makes your face heat up a little bit. These guys really are way too attractive for their own good. 

“I’m not sure yet,” you admit, hoping it’s not too obvious that you’re blushing. “What about you? Have you already decided?” 

“Sure have,” he grins. “I’m getting the steak. And the ribs. And the spicy hot wings.”

That’s a lot of protein…

“Axel has a big appetite,” Liam says, flipping through the menu. “I keep telling him he eats way too much meat and needs more variety in his diet, but he doesn’t listen.” 

“How is my fault that meat tastes so good?” 

“Your body’s going to hate you one day when you’re not young and fit. I also don’t understand how your skin always looks so nice, even with all the junk you eat.” Liam sighs and lightly pats his cheeks. “Meanwhile, I break out constantly if I’m not careful.”

“Being a model full-time sure sounds difficult,” you frown. “I obviously don’t know all the details, but I’ve heard it’s really hard always staying in perfect shape.” 

“It depends. Some people you work with are more lenient than others, but yeah. I’ve definitely met my fair share of assholes that made me adhere to ridiculous standards. That’s just the industry, though. It’s super competitive, so you need to be willing to go above and beyond. Which is why I’m getting a salad today.” 

“He works so hard,” Axel sniffles. “I would literally kill myself if I ever had to eat a salad.” 

You chuckle, but in all honesty, you doubt he was kidding.

Eventually, you figure out what you want to eat, and soon enough, the server comes back with all your orders. Axel’s dishes alone cover the majority of the table. Setting aside the fact that it’s literally just meat, the sheer quantity that he’s about to consume is enough to make you feel ill.

You decide to avoid looking at his side of the table and just focus on yourself.

“It’s good,” you remark, and you’re not just saying that to make Axel happy. The food is good. Going to this restaurant was the right decision after all. 

“My salad’s really good too,” Liam nods. 

“How good can it possibly be? It’s a salad,” Axel shudders, as if merely uttering the word causes him immense pain. 

Liam shoots him a pointed glare out of the corner of his eye, and Axel proceeds to take a big bite out of his ribs, unbothered. Meanwhile, you struggle to hide the smile spreading across your lips. Being with these two is a lot of fun. 

“Oh. [Name], you’ve got a little something on your face,” Axel suddenly remarks. 

“I do?” 

Your face reddens. How embarrassing. You’re not usually a messy eater, which is why you’re surprised to see Axel reaching towards you with a napkin. You squeeze your eyes shut so he can gently pat the napkin across the corners of your mouth.

“Th-Thanks,” you say. “I appreciate it.” 

Axel grins. “It’s no big deal. There were only a few crumbs. I just wanted to try doing that. So, now it’s your turn, right?” 

He gestures towards the little patches of sauce on his face, which you were debating telling him about, but he clearly seems aware. It’s no surprise he’s made a mess, considering the loaded meal he’s been chowing down on.

You chuckle softly. “Alright, then. Hold still so I can clean this up for you.” 

Axel beams at you, clearly happy as can be. He didn’t initially strike you as the type who enjoys being spoiled, but then again, he’s scared of ducks and refuses to eat vegetables, so perhaps it’s not all that surprising. 

Your back is turned towards Liam the whole while, so it goes without saying that you don’t notice the pained look in his eyes.

“All done,” you say, and Axel sighs disappointedly. 

“That felt so nice,” he whines. “Will you play with my hair later? I love it when Liam plays with my hair.” 

“I can just do that for you at home,” Liam suggests, a slight desperation in his voice. 

“But I want [Name] to do it for me,” Axel insists. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you close while grinning. “[Name]’s so cute and nice. I can’t believe you’re not actually dating someone for real. People are seriously missing out.” 

You blush again. The flattery is practically nonstop with this guy. Well, you suppose you aren’t complaining, and it's nice to know that he’s having a good day. 

“...yeah. She’s really cute and nice,” Liam mumbles in agreement. He smiles at you, briefly, then turns away and starts poking at his salad. 

For just a second, his expression looked a bit off. Were you imagining it? 

“Man, I don’t want today to end,” Axel sighs, still hugging you. “I can’t wait for us to do this again. You’re fine with that, right, [Name]? You’d be open to seeing us again?” 

“Of course,” you nod. “I’ve been having a great day. You two are a lot of fun to be around. What about you, Liam? Would you want to do this again sometime?” 

Liam freezes up. Once again, he’s surprised that you’re bothering to check with him. He’s so used to Axel leading the conversation. He’s got a big personality and has a tendency to sweep everyone up in his own pace. 

But you were right to ask him. Initially, Axel said this would only be a one time thing, and he agreed to it just to make him happy. However, it’s clear now that he isn’t comfortable doing this. You’re a great person, and he genuinely enjoys being around you, but he’s not sure he can ever imagine sharing his boyfriend with someone else. It’s nothing personal. It’s just… not something he feels okay doing. 

So, he needs to be vocal about this and tell Axel how he feels. Surely then, he’ll understand. The fact that he was willing to even try should already count for something. It has to. 

Liam offers you an appreciative look, then turns towards Axel.

“I’m—” 

“Liam wants to do this again too. Of course he does,” Axel says, waving his hand and practically dismissing him before he can get a word in. “We talked about it before. And he would’ve told me if he wasn’t having a good time.” 

Liam desperately tries to hide the shock on his face. 

What? He… never promised anything. All he said was that he would try this out and make his decision afterwards. Why is Axel acting like it’s already a sure thing that he’ll want to keep going?

“Today’s been great,” Axel hums. He leans up against you, shoving your body closer to Liam’s and effectively pushing you into his arms. “Going on a date is way more fun with all three of us. Right, Liam?” 

Axel finally meets Liam’s gaze, and the look in his eyes is so painfully expectant that Liam can’t think of a way to refuse. He knows he should. He’s an adult, with his own voice and his own opinions. But for some reason… it feels wrong. It feels like he’s not allowed to do what he wants and risk upsetting Axel in the process. 

Liam hasn’t had a relationship worth protecting until now. He’s only dated losers, assholes, or shitty girls who went behind his back and cheated on him. That’s why he’s so afraid. He’s afraid that saying the wrong words will ruin the best thing that ever happened to him.

And so, he buckles.

“Yeah,” Liam smiles. He’s used to forcing a smile. He does it for work all the time. “It’s been a lot of fun. We should definitely do this again.” 

You stare at him long and hard. Part of you still gets this strange feeling, this feeling that he isn’t being completely transparent. But you’re not the one who can make this choice for him, and he’s had every opportunity to come forward with the truth. 

“Great,” you smile back. “I’m happy to hear it.”

Axel lets out a happy cheer, and even leans across the booth so that he can pull Liam into his arms as well. Between the three of you, it’s hot, stuffy, and there’s not much wiggle room, but Axel seems to be loving every moment of it.

Liam’s eyes lower to the ground.  

It’s okay. Just one more time. He’ll go on just one more date, and then he’ll tell Axel how he really feels. 

Definitely.

It’s late. Normally, at this time of the night, you would be curled up inside your apartment, either doing homework, watching TV, or scrolling mindlessly through your phone. It’s nearly time for you to be going to bed, but instead of sitting comfortably at home, you’re standing out in the chilly night air, dressed in a skirt that you grossly underestimated how short it is. 

And what’s the reason for all of this? 

Your job, of course. 

“[Name]! Hell yeah, you actually made it,” Callum grins. 

He walks over to greet you in a hug, but you’re too preoccupied with shivering from your poor choice of dress, so you give him a half-hearted fist bump instead. 

There’s a party on campus tonight. Well, there’s probably several parties on campus, but this is the one that Callum invited you to, because he heard that Nadia would be going as well. And since he fully intends to make her jealous and eventually win her back—a plan that you still aren’t totally convinced by—he hired you to come out and be here with him. 

“You look really nice,” Callum says. He offers you a lazy, but well-meaning smile. You appreciate the compliment, and you were hoping you looked nice, but right now you’re honestly freezing your ass off. The sooner you get inside, the better. 

“Thanks,” you nod. “You look nice too. I, um. I like your t-shirt.” 

Callum stares at you for a few moments, then throws his head back and explodes into laughter. “Haha! Ha, that’s good. You know, you really don’t have to force yourself to say something nice. Most guys don’t exactly put as much effort into their outfits as girls do.” 

“It’s a nice t-shirt,” you shrug. 

“Well, I appreciate you saying that. Come on,” he gestures, beckoning you along. “Let’s get going. This is around the time people were saying Nadia would be showing up. If we’re lucky, maybe we’ll run into her right from the beginning.” 

You nod and follow him. Even though you still have your doubts about whether or not Nadia will actually want to get back together with him, you’re done worrying about it. He’s the client, and you’re here to do a job. All you can do is play your part, and play it well. You’re being paid whether or not his plan succeeds, and honestly? Part of you is hoping it won’t, only because they’re so clearly not good for each other. You want Callum to be able to move on with his life and find someone who treats him well. Someone who genuinely makes him happy. 

But until that happens, you’re in for one hell of a ride. 

“I mentioned before that some buddies of mine are gonna be at this party too, right? I think you’ll like them,” Callum says. He scratches his cheek, then laughs. “And they’ll probably like you too. None of my friends can really stand Nadia. They always tell me she’s a massive bitch and I need to drop her already.” 

Yikes. Even his friends are advising him to find someone else, but he still has no intention of doing it. His relationship with Nadia truly is a horror show. 

“Honestly, they’ll probably suggest I start dating you instead,” Callum adds in a casual, nonchalant tone.

“But we’re still telling them we’re just friends, because that’s what we agreed on. Right…?” 

You blink warily. You hope this whole thing isn’t one big setup, because you’ll be really pissed off. If he deceives you again, then you have no intention of keeping him as a client. 

“Don’t worry,” Callum reassures. “I’m only going to tell people that you’re my friend. I’m just assuming how they’ll react, because I know they’re desperate for me to date other girls apart from Nadia. They just really want her out of my life. Which I get, because again, she’s kind of fucking crazy.” 

I am very much aware. 

You let out a sigh. It’s weird to think that you’re being paid to essentially butt into someone else’s relationship. If someone had asked you how you would be earning money, you could never have predicted it would be like this. 

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. There’s no shame in what you’re doing. If other people can hold their heads up high while working this job, then so can you. 

“Looks like we’re here,” Callum says. He points towards a big house further up ahead, where there’s a line of people waiting outside to be let in. It’s even busier than you were expecting. You’re not much of a partygoer to begin with, but damn. You can already tell people are going to get wasted out of their minds. 

Callum pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Hold up. I’m gonna text my friends and see where they’re at. One of them is pretty close with some of the frat guys, so I think we’ll be able to get in for free. We might be able to skip the line too.” 

You nod and step back while you wait for him to do his thing. He’s trying to call his friends, but it looks like he might be having a hard time getting through to them, because no one’s picking up. They might already be in the house and can’t hear their phones ringing. The music is blasting even way out here, so you can only imagine how loud it is on the inside. 

Pretty much all you can do is twiddle your thumbs while you wait for Callum to tell you what the plan is, so you absently walk around in place, hoping that it won’t be much longer—you’re seriously freezing. 

All of a sudden, someone bumps into you from behind. 

But it’s not a little bump. It’s not the kind of bump that just startles you and might make you look around in surprise. 

No, it’s the kind of bump that knocks you flat onto the ground and lands you right on your palms and knees. 

The kind of bump that was done on purpose. 

“O-Ouch…” 

You grit your teeth and wince. The fall was far from pleasant, and you know that your tights definitely ripped from the impact. It hurts like a bitch, and when you slowly peel one of your hands away from the concrete, the skin of your palm is covered in angry red scrapes. Part of it has even begun to bleed. 

“Aw, I’m so sorry,” a nasally, disgustingly-fake voice cuts in. It’s a voice you recognize, unfortunately. You don’t even have to turn your head to know who it is. 

But you do it anyway, and you’re met with a hateful grin. 

“So sorry about that,” Nadia says, looking anything but. She twirls a lock of hair around one of her fingers and chuckles. “But it was really your fault for not looking where you were going. Maybe don’t walk around like an airhead next time, okay, love?” 

You don’t say anything. You refuse to debase yourself and sink to her level. But either way, one thing is certain. 

She’s not going to make this easy for you. 

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[thatbitchery]

Pick me behavior sickens me more than actual sickness could sicken me I can not think of one thing more unladylike than auditioning for something as stupid as acceptance. Yes when you don't have status markers when you are ugly or poor or nameless sometimes you do have to lick the floor will your pride pay your bills? Help you survive? Even then I can not watch it. Go be ew far from eyes of mine.

Had a conversation with a pick me this morning and if flying and exams didn't already ruin my mood this 🚮did. It's hard enough to meet a fully black person let alone girl in these roads I walk so when I met an African even mixed it's like Jesus praise the Lord. I actually get excited so I see this girl and it passes we share the motherland and ugh. Finally. I've swam in snow for so long I thirst for chocolate so we go on and on about it and obviously at some point it hits the political marker? How? We've both been to the same countries mostly and we bond over it and I say well I'm not confined by 'rich' or 'poor' I just like what I like. I like private jets and I also like Starbucks I don't have a poverty mindset so I don't rank things by price Im self centered I rank them by me. I am my unit of measure so yes I like Starbucks even if it's poor people drinks. She goes yes but you know I no longer take it. I'm waiting for an actual reason like it's unhealthy or an actual tangible reason and this thing hits me with *Free Palestine*. I laugh say mama I can not give a single fuck about Palestine if you paid me to. She gives me the Oh so you're an Israeli supporter you- I say naw I don't give a single faaaaaaak about Israel or Ukraine or Russia or Afghanistan I genuinely do not care who is killing who for what I want Starbucks I'm getting Starbucks idk what "cancelled it" if it's my money I get what I want. This thing gives me a humanitarian speech and I just walk out mid because

Extremely unobservant of you to try guilt trip me do I looooooook like I have ANY morality in me lmao

If the cards were reversed? If they said in Kenya the women can not speak or study or- do you think Afghan women would care? The Democratic Republic of Congo has been on fire since God knows when how many #FreeCongo posts have you seen? Somalia had a clash the same time Russia and Ukraine were measuring nuclear prowess how many of them changed their Profile Picture to include a Somali flag? Sorry do you know what they do to black women there? African women? When I tell my mom Im travelling to ANY part of Asia I can feel her heart break because she watches the news and knows not only am I African with a very African second name I'm also dark skinned and that's anti negro land. They make their idols bleach to ghost level and get their daughters and sons nose jobs do you know what they see you like? IF THE CARDS WERE REVERSED do you think they'd do this for you. The pickmeism of the black community needs to be studied but it is so funny to me when I see it in dark skinned black women like you do know you're at the bottom of the food chain do you not?

So girl goes around saying whatever and one of my friends call me after whatever tf one hour of flying is & I'm trying to deal with all the biological issues of being high altitude in this weather mentally preparing for my exam and I get as SOS and it's *Oh you're pro Israel?* And now I'm pissed because is Israel pro me? I'm pro Russia because Russia erased all my people's debt and I am self centered everyone else bomb each other idk. What does that have to do with me? Girl says YESSS I KNOW RIGHT. We schedule an anti 🚮 session because whew girls are weird out here and now I'm reeling on main because I can't gossip yet so y'all have to catch this stray.

It is a form of stupidity that even a sea cucumber can NOT fathom to be a pick me when you don't need to. And in my books you never need to. Sometimes I get it sometimes I see it I respect it but every single times it disgusts me. Have hundreds of years of femicide and misogyny taught you nothing? And the problem is you know you're not supposed to be a pick me for men (& STILL MOST OF YOU 🚮 ARE. DO NOT TEXT OR ASK ME ABOUT YOUR DEEEK CARRIER I DESPISE YOU BOTH) but when it comes to social settings COWARDS. ALL OF YOU.

Ladies I tell you this because I went through it I speak purely from experience listen to me. Listen to me carefully. Alexa play Mother by Meghan Trainor.

Do. Not. EVER. Turn against yourself in public, not even as a joke. ESPECIALLY not as a joke. It's acceptable if it's serious in a certain way but as a joke? When people make fun or you or yours you- YOU LAUGH??? YOU LET THEM LAUGH? 🤮🚮

IN PUBLIC, PROTECT YOU AND YOURS. 🔊🎤.

I don't like my people I don't I like that I'm African because it's Integral to me and it's not like everyone else is better actually wtf even is that ? But if don't like my people. I hate my culture I hate the mindset I hate the mentality etc when most people are talking shit about us mentally it's like BRUH I KNOW but uhm. Shut your mouth. As far as publicly I'm concerned AFRICA and it's people have never done anything wrong. You exist because we exist. We are the blueprint? Go wear sunscreen and shut the fuck up try to dance with rhythm and cut down on the BBL it looks embarrassing on you. Fillers too. You wanna be me so bad lmao. I HATEEEEE my family so much but you say ONE semi negative thing about them I dare you. No no. Go on. Run your mouth I run mine let's see. PUBLICLY I'm for mine and mines. I do not play pick me games we can NOT bond over hating something that's integral with me. I get along better with men and in a lot of ways I prefer male company ( and I'm a misandrist, so you see it) but Publicly all men are trash women are godesses queen mwah could never be wrong. I will defend a girl I want to unalive to men because I am a woman first THEN I'm a hater . Womanhood is INTEGRAL to me hating is a choice. If I make men feel they can run their mouth about women past me they will start disrespecting me because am I or am I not a woman? Exactly. I am black first then a hater second. Even a mixed person run your mouth go ownnn go on try me. When my people are talking trash about each other too I'll be all over that. I am my father's daughter first before I am the family disappointment so I will say whatever I want about him, you on the other hand. Who are you? Literally why even did you think you could?

If something is INTEGRAL to you, you protect it. In public. You DO not, NAUT. NAWT. Let people talk down on you or yours. Ever. And you do NOT, even as a joke, talk down on any part of yourself that's inseparable from you. I'll make fun of my career all day because it's a choice it's outside me idc about it. It's not a part of me I'm not loyal to it. If that thing is a part of you that's inborn you protect it with your blood .

I digress as one does, let's redirect my anger where it belongs.

It is pick me behavior to do for others what you know for a fact they would not do for you, especially when you know they would hurt you if they had the chance. It is this pickmeism that drives and keeps misogyny and the patriarchy going but we all know that. When in doubt, ask yourself- if this situation was reversed, what would they do? If it's not exactly what you are about to do for them, go home wash your hair and repent to your higher self for whatever that self sabotage was, and learn to mind your own business.

BMAC

[elixirfromthestars]

This is my first time reading for Billy, and Janie I think you may have awakened a new little crush for me 🤭💗 The banter and the tension had me hooked the entire time!! 👀✨ He’s so charming in his own like brooding and mysterious way, and I am so here for it!! 🥰

More under the cut ᯓᡣ𐭩

Instead of being seated in his second floor office overlooking the main part of the warehouse, you're standing in the basement dressed in your crisp white blouse, hastily pressed pencil skirt, and low heels.

^ In the basement?? 😳 Should I be nervous? Worried? 👀

"Russo?"

"Hm?" He hums distractedly. "Are those knives?"

^ A basement and knives…okay now I am a little nervous 😅

He leans his hands on the table, shamelessly giving you a slow and careful once over before he frowns a little. "You're gonna have to change."

^ why…? 🤨 sir….what are you up to??? 😳😅

"Then what am I doing here, Lieutenant?" Whoops. His head snaps up again, his already sunless eyes getting darker by the second. Without breaking the intense eye contact, he just gestures around the room as though it's oh so obvious. "Self-defence training."

^ Oh, I see now 👀 Well, color me intrigued, sir 🤭 (and we should definitely go change for this 💀)

"Aw, don't be scared," Billy chuckles and pats you on the shoulder, watching with those hawkish eyes of his as you consider your options. "This is a safe space." Is it though?

^ I have the same question my lovely protagonist, because while this man is devilishly handsome….I am still a bit cautious of him 👀

"I am training you. And you're not ready for guns yet," Billy grins when you unsheathe the dagger, eyes widening just a fraction at the way the blade glints in the light. "Sides, picturin' you with a knife is way hotter. You gonna wear a thigh holster?"

^ Not the shameless flirting 🤭💗 Stoooop it 🤭💕

You flick the tip of the blade in his direction, "Watch it, Russo. I'm armed." But he just laughs, a sound that comes with a dangerous surge of pride in your chest, "That's not how you hold a dagger."

"Oh, shut up," you bristle, cheeks warming and trying not to watch, enraptured, as he stands up to his full height, his boots thumping heavily on the concrete. "Careful," he warns, but he sounds more amused than offended as he closes the distance between you in just a few small strides. "You'd better play nice if you still want that interview."

^ I love these two 😂🩷 Their banter is so good, and it gives us such a nice look into the chemistry that’s building between them 🥰 I can tell he cares about her in his own way, even if he has difficulty fully showing it. 🥺

Even without looking back, you feel his dark obsidian gaze on the still healing bruise that's formed on the side of your face. His fingers tighten around yours, there's a slight hitch in his breath you can feel with his chest pressed to your back, and the hand on your hip slides forward and around to your other side in an almost embrace. Protective, possessive, and maybe even a little petrified.

^ I picked out this paragraph, but the whole section where the tension just builds from his proximity to her had me on the edge of my seat!! 💗💗 I kept wondering how far he’d take it since he was so close to her 👀💕 It’s one thing to keep his feelings at bay or controlled from a distance, but having her right there in his arms?? 👀💖

"I need to see where you're at first before I can teach you, darlin, he's still smirking, half condescending and half amused, and your hands twitch to fling the knife at his stupid head. "I'm at nowhere! I've got nothing! And you don't even have a weapon, I could slice your damn face off!" Or worse, scar it. Billy laughs again, his eyes crinkling warmly at the corners. "Oh, sweetheart, you can certainly try."

^ Did I already mention I love these two? 😂🩷 I just adore their banter so much, there’s something about their dynamic that hooks me in and makes me want to see how far they’ll take it until one of them cracks and goes all in 👀💖💖

Janie, thank you so much for participating in my writing challenge with this wonderful submission!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼 You’ve brought this man to my attention, and I fear I may need to read more of him 😂🩷🩷 (as if I already don’t have a long list of fics in my to be read to read 💀) This was such a fun read, and I loved seeing how you took the prompt and made it all your own!! 🩷🩷

SOME TYPE OF SKIN.

PAIRING — billy russo x reporter f!reader

CONTENTS — ficlet; fluff; tiny bit of angst if you squint really, really hard; a dash of pining; references to some canon-typical violence; some very mild innuendo.

SUMMARY — after a harrowing experience, billy surprisingly takes the matter of your personal safety into his very own hands.

WORD COUNT — 1.6k

NOTES — so I decided to write something short and fun for @elixirfromthestars’s cinema writing challenge and honestly, i’m not 100% satisfied with this (when am i ever tho?) but also trying not to overthink this too much. please excuse me while I continue to scream into the void about this stupidly beautiful man. I apologize in advance for the person I have been and am going to be for the next few weeks; ben barnes has such a firm grip on my fucking throat lmao 🤭

✩ masterlist ✩ library blog

When he asked you to meet him here at Anvil headquarters so you could finally interview him for that story in the Bulletin, this isn’t exactly what you were expecting. 

Instead of being seated in his second floor office overlooking the main part of the warehouse, you’re standing in the basement dressed in your crisp white blouse, hastily pressed pencil skirt, and low heels. You toy with the press pass hanging around your neck, unsure what to do with your hands. 

Your interview subject, however, seems quite relaxed save for the slight wrinkle between his dark brows as he very deliberately lays out several objects on a table in the middle of the room. He’s switched out his usual sharp business attire for a green pullover that looks soft to the touch, dark cargo pants, and a pair of combat boots. 

It takes you a few seconds to find your voice, because does he have to recline against the damn thing like that? He looks tall and lean, but damn it when he’s like this, showing off the corded muscles in his arms and shoulders, you cannot doubt that he’s an ex-Marine. 

“Russo?” 

“Hm?” He hums distractedly. 

“Are those knives?” 

Well, that gets his attention. He lifts his head and finally makes direct eye contact, and a shiver shoots down your spine. 

“Yeah, they are,” he confirms casually, as if you’ve just asked him if the sky is blue. He leans his hands on the table, shamelessly giving you a slow and careful once over before he frowns a little. “You’re gonna have to change.” 

“I feel compelled to tell you Karen knows I’m here,” you say quickly, raising an inquisitive eyebrow when he just chuckles like you’ve said something adorably funny. “Also, I thought we were doing an interview?” 

Billy Russo stares expectantly at you for a few seconds, lips slowly turning upward into a mysterious smile that you know has captured hearts all over the city. 

But you won’t fall for that, will you? 

Nope. Not in the slightest. 

“Nah, not yet anyway. Sorry, darlin’.” 

Ignore that! You scream mentally, but your brain does not cooperate. “Then what am I doing here, Lieutenant?” 

Whoops. His head snaps up again, his already sunless eyes getting darker by the second. Without breaking the intense eye contact, he just gestures around the room as though it’s oh so obvious. 

“Self-defence training.” 

“And why would I need—ugh, I don’t have time for this, Billy.” You heave a sigh, dropping all pretenses now, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. 

You’ve always known that Billy marches to the beat of his own drum, ever since the two of you met when Karen introduced you a few months ago while you were researching for a story about army veterans—a friend of a friend’s, she’d said, but never elaborated—but this seems excessive. 

“You wouldn’t have come if I were honest,” he says, his smile falling away in an instant, the glint of amusement in his eyes disappearing like smoke in the wind. “I don’t need to remind you of the… unpleasantness that happened last week.” 

“And yet here we are,” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m fine.” 

“You were attacked,” Billy corrects, walking around the table to perch himself on the edge closest to you. You roll your eyes; as if you’ve forgotten. Getting ambushed in front of your apartment by two masked assailants isn’t exactly an easy thing to forget. 

“Everything worked out, didn’t it?” You uncross your arms and saunter over to the table, ignoring the heavy weight of his gaze on you. And it really had! 

Just as one of your would-be kidnappers, whatever it was they wanted, hit you in the face in retaliation for you kicking him in the shins and biting the other on the arm, your neighbour had come out of the apartment building just in time and began screaming bloody murder. They had no choice but to drop you and run, leaving you dishevelled and bruised, but otherwise fine, on the sidewalk. 

“They could come back,” Billy points out, since they obviously didn’t get what they’d come for, the same thing the police had said when they arrived just minutes later. You didn’t think much of it, though. Karen had had her fair share of run-ins with such undesirables, and she assured that this just meant you were pushing precisely the right buttons as a reporter. 

Even so, she still urged you to call Billy for protection.

You wonder if he gets all of his clients to undergo this self-defence training, or if he always personally offers to instruct them.

“Can’t guarantee it won’t happen again,” Billy doesn’t seem to want to take no for an answer. The two of you stare for a moment, engaging in a silent battle of wits that you, of course, end up losing when you’re the first to look away. He nods at the various knives and daggers strewn across the table. “C’mon, pick one and we’ll start small.” 

“Small?” You squeak as you eye the particularly ornate handle on one of the knives that honestly looks more like a short sword. 

“Aw, don’t be scared,” Billy chuckles and pats you on the shoulder, watching with those hawkish eyes of his as you consider your options. “This is a safe space.” 

Is it though? You wonder as you pick up a small dagger closest to you. “Wouldn’t guns make more sense since I’m not exactly trained in hand to hand combat?” 

“I am training you. And you’re not ready for guns yet,” Billy grins when you unsheathe the dagger, eyes widening just a fraction at the way the blade glints in the light. “‘Sides, picturin’ you with a knife is way hotter. You gonna wear a thigh holster?” 

You flick the tip of the blade in his direction, “Watch it, Russo. I’m armed.” 

But he just laughs, a sound that comes with a dangerous surge of pride in your chest, “That’s not how you hold a dagger.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you bristle, cheeks warming and trying not to watch, enraptured, as he stands up to his full height, his boots thumping heavily on the concrete. 

“Careful,” he warns, but he sounds more amused than offended as he closes the distance between you in just a few small strides. “You’d better play nice if you still want that interview.” 

But there’s nothing professional about the way he steps behind you, the way his arms pull you back against his chest, or the way his hand lands on yours to adjust your grip on the dagger’s handle. 

“Not all of us can be badass ex-Marines, can we?” It takes everything you have not to stammer, not to gulp nervously when you feel the calloused ridge of his trigger finger caressing the same spot on your own hand. 

“Yeah, well, I believe in you,” you can hear the smirk in his voice as his free hand comes down to rest on your hip, warm and heavy as it guides you slowly into a proper stance. “Bend your knees a little.” 

“Pretty sure I hired you so I wouldn’t have to take matters into my own hands like this,” you huff in annoyance, grumbling but following his instructions anyway, feeling a bit silly doing this in your work clothes. He never did give you a chance to change. 

“Please, you couldn’t afford me,” Billy murmurs so low against your ear that it sends a shiver down the side of your neck, all the way to a certain part of your anatomy you refuse to acknowledge at the moment, his beard slightly rough against your cheek. Is he doing this on purpose? “Also, did you technically hire me if I’m doing this pro bono?”

“Yeah, and on that note,” you grow bold when he squeezes your hip in encouragement, leaning back against him with your arm extended, your hands joined together, the tip of the dagger’s blade angled upward at an imaginary assailant. “Why are you? The Billy Russo I know never works for free.” 

You see, you know precisely the kind of man Billy is. He would never invest this kind of time and energy into something like this, not unless he had something to gain from it—

Even without looking back, you feel his dark obsidian gaze on the still healing bruise that’s formed on the side of your face. His fingers tighten around yours, there’s a slight hitch in his breath you can feel with his chest pressed to your back, and the hand on your hip slides forward and around to your other side in an almost embrace. Protective, possessive, and maybe even a little petrified.

—or unless he had some type of skin in the game. 

And suddenly, despite the way you’re dressed and your hilarious lack of experience, you start to feel pretty invincible. You allow yourself a proud grin, squaring your shoulders so you stand a little taller in his arms.

They fall instantly, however, when Billy steps away and moves to stand directly in front of you. You feel immensely colder at the loss of proximity. 

“Alright, let’s see what you got,” he’s smirking again, all that vulnerability and whatever warmth you sensed in his body language once again hidden away behind a layer of arrogance and swagger. He beckons you with a come here gesture of his hand. 

“What?” You blink. 

“I’ve just broken into your apartment,” he states matter-of factly, “what do you do?” He coaxes you again with another wave.

“But wait!” You almost shriek, your bout of confidence once again faltering. “You didn’t even teach me anything yet!” 

“I need to see where you’re at first before I can teach you, darlin’,” he’s still smirking, half condescending and half amused, and your hands twitch to fling the knife at his stupid head.

“I’m at nowhere! I’ve got nothing! And you don’t even have a weapon, I could slice your damn face off!” Or worse, scar it. 

Billy laughs again, his eyes crinkling warmly at the corners. “Oh, sweetheart, you can certainly try.” 

fin.

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[fizzyboy]

I highly doubt my thoughts on the Boxten shenanigans will follow your canon any closer than others have, BUT felt like I'd share a potential thought anyways.

So, Boxten is a mechanic who likely wouldn't be as heavily involved in magic even if he did have some semblance of it? This makes my brain default to "well, with his arc of becoming more confident and in-control, what if his ability to tap into it is incredibly fleeting?"

Yes, that probably has already been mentioned. But with the point you keep making; what emotion would even make sense to tie to his magic?

The few thoughts that my brain could toss onto the table was "Inspiration", "Motivation", "Grief", "Acceptance".

Out of the four, I've probably got more ideas for acceptance (or "belief")? Though, it doesn't exactly keep his magic minimal.

Since Boxten is facing the long-run character arc of building his confidence and believing in himself, the thought that his magic is based around acceptance would likely give a chance for him to tap into it at the beginning and end, but not in the middle stages.

For the beginning; An acceptance that he's not enough. That he won't be able to fill expectations or save his friends if they were in danger. This mindset probably doesn't last long, and would be fleeting as he starts to want to be better. Whatever semblance of a magical form he had wouldn't have lasted long even if he did try to put it to use.

For a while, he'd then be left without the ability to power-up (magic-wise) like the others do. He'd have the time to lean into his "raw strength" kind of gameplay. It would take a while for him to have a chance of getting his magic back. But when he does, it's an acceptance of his ability to hold his own without the need to rely on others. That even if he had the choice to use magic, he wouldn't need to. He'd know he has the skill to contribute and help others without it. And if he does have it? Cool, it'll be something new to test out and grow from.

(Sorry this is such a long ramble, I get too excited when I have ideas.)

There we go, that's all I asked for. Give a reason and have it make a bit of sense. Now, I'm still not planning to give him any major magic qualities, but this is the best suggestion so far.

[cetoddle-archive]

the more i try to force myself to be positive and try and find things i like abt this job the more i miss my old job