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bizbat · 2 months

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Those Jason crush hcs were so funny (obvi they were cute too) butJason getting so embarrassed he tried to crawl outside with 4 bullet holes and half his blood outside his body was such a mood. Me too dude. Can we have some more of him being delulu about his crush? It was so deliciously embarrassing and funny. What would happen if his wifey/husbando was just boldly was like- “Jason we're not dating, why would you think we were? We're not even having sex?”

EVEN MORE! When They're In Love Headcanons - Jason Todd

🕸️Spiderverse Masterlist🕸️

🐼JJK Masterlist🐼

~ Fem terms used for reader.

~ Mild smut alluded to but nothing explicit.

~ You can find parts One, Two, and Three here!

~ You can find more of my works here.

~ This is gonna be mostly fic bc I am running out of ideas lol. This took an inappropriate amount of time to write omg

~ Jay is kinda toxic so Tw: Unhealthy Relationships Dynamics, mentions of having children, slight violence, Jason is a freak and reader is tired.

By now, I've made it clear that this man is deep in the delusion.

But I haven't really gone into detail in what I mean by that.

I mean he'll say something teasing in jest, and if you reciprocate that energy even the tiniest bit, he will take that and run with it.

Though that's not even solid, bc if you take everything he says literally, he'd still think you're playing along.

Jason could make a joke with someone and not gaf about their response, but you could say the exact same thing as the person he joked with and he'd get heart eyes.

So far, I've kinda been writing with an oblivious reader in mind but a reader who knows all of Jason's delusions would pretty interesting lol.

You'd probably overhear him talking to Roy or Dick about your "date" last night.

Read: He broke into your apartment while you were at work and surprised you with chinese takeout when you got home.

I think if you confronted him about his delusions, he'd be willfully ignorant, and act like he doesn't know what you mean.

~ Drabble Starts Here. ~

Lian seems so happy, you can't bring yourself to be the bearer of bad news.

You're sat beside the little girl at her even littler table, the handle of a plastic teacup loosely gripped between your thumb and forefinger, your pinky high up in the air. The smile on your face is sincere as she mindlessly babbles, pouring sugar water into your cup.

You can't help but grimace when she encourages you and her stuffed animals to drink up, and you can't help but feel like the girl is being somewhat malicious when she seemingly starts interrogating you, only to push the cup of surgery water back to your lips whenever you to to answer her litany of, frankly, over-personal questions.

Some of the questions you don't mind, they're about as pure and unassuming as the pink princess tiara laying crookedly atop her head. It's when she asks if you and Jason are gonna get married and have babies with the most deadpan face you've ever seen on a child, that finally makes you choke on the (syrup) water.

"Excuse me?!" You ask, wiping away the mess on your face with a embroidered napkin and desperately trying not to hack up the rest of the beverage, undissolved grains of sugar still residing in the back of your throat. "Why would we do that?" You manage between coughs.

Lian glances towards Jason, who is sat at the table across from the two of you, his knees tucked up to his chest, as he hides his face behind his miniature teacup, though it's mostly ineffective, as the cup looks like a shot glass in his massive hand. Lian innocently looks back to you, as if you were the one who'd asked the more confusing question.

"Uncle Jay said you were dating. Isn't that what happens when people date?"

You crane your neck as you slowly turn your head towards Jason, who is avoiding your ice cold gaze like his life depended on it. "Oh, really?" You ask Lian through gritted teeth, though your gaze is solidly planted on Jason. "Did he now?"

"Mm-hmm," The small girl cheerfully nods her head, the dark braids framing either side of her face swinging from the force of her enthusiasm. "He told me you guys were gonna have a bunch of kids so I could have more people to play with!"

You can't help but stare incredulously at the child as she explains. By now, Jason's put down the cup, giving up at his attempt to hide behind it and simply covering his mouth with his hand, sitting silently like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs as he waits for you to start chewing him out. But it never comes.

"You are, right? I really want more friends." Lian's pleading is almost enough to make you change your mind and agree right there. Almost. As if sensing that she hasn't fully convinced you, Lian continues, going on and on about how she would be a really really good big sister or cousin if you had babies, or how much she's always wanted to go to a wedding, and how pretty you'd be as a bride, and-

She knows better than to continue when you gently raise your hand, as if you're silently saying "That's enough, Lian, please stop talking." You do feel a little remorseful as the girl's once happy demeanor changes to a shyer, more somber at the apparent rejection. You sigh and roll your eyes, finishing of the tiny cup of, what is now, pure sugar. "Maybe someday, Lian."

You put your hand up again, bracing her for the next part of your sentence when you see her start to get riled up again. "But absolutely no promises. Uncle Jay and I need to have a very important conversation later about it, though." That's enough to please Lian, as she goes right back to asking you other invasive questions that have nothing to do with your love life.

Jason, though happily surprised by your answer, stays silent over the next few hours. He honestly forgets you were ever even mad at him to begin with. It's not until you leave and the sky turns that familiar dark red, that you punch Jason in the arm as hard as possible, which, in all honesty, he can't really feel.

Though he does wince and hold his arm in the place where you hit him, to keep your ego intact if nothing else.

"What was that for?!" He dramatically gasps, pouting as he rubs the "sore" spot on his upper arm. Somewhere in the back of your mind you recognize it's kinda cute that he plays into your delusions. Just a little.

"Why would you tell Lian of all people we're dating?!" Your hand subtly clenches by your side, though you try to hide the slight pain punching him gave you, at the end of the day, Jason was raised by a detective. "Why would you even say that when you know it's not true?!"

"First of all," He starts, grabbing your hand. "I tell everyone we're dating." He starts soothing your sore knuckles as he tugs you towards your apartment building. He's so confident as he speaks it's genuinely bewildering. "And second, we are dating."

When he sees the utterly gobsmacked look on your face he continues. "We go on dates," (he just shows up at your home once a week. "We get gifts for each other," (he got you a stray kitten he rescued off the street and he steals your underwear). "We have sex-"

"Okay, number one: No we don't," You say, holding your hand out in front of you just like you did with Lian. "Number two: No we don't," You can almost see his eyes glaze over. He listens to every other thing you say, but when you're telling him your not together? That's when he tunes out.

"And number three: that only happened once!" It comes out a harsh whisper. Your face and ears feel hot with embarrassment, but Jason just shrugs. "Three times, actually, but who's counting?" Jason has a sweet, intentionally dopey looking smile.

You're left speechless by his demeanor. "Just kiddin' . . . I'm counting." He thinks the awkward, bewildered silence is hilarious. So he just keeps talking. "I mark it down in my calendar . . . Celebrate it once a month . . . Might get the dates tattooed."

"Jason." You interrupt.

"Hmm?"

"Go home." He looks over and realizes you're both in front of your apartment door, having talked the whole way. Again, he shrugs, pulling a spare key out of his pocket and moving to unlock your door. "Oh my fucking g-"

"What?" He stops, holding up the key midair. "What's wrong?" "Jason," You groan, rubbing your temples. "Why do you have a key to my apartment?" By now you shouldn't be so surprised, but you are. "Oh, this?" He hold up the key, equally confused that you would even ask. "I had one made when we started dating. How did you think I get in for our dates?"

He can almost smell the exhaustion wafting off you at this point. "Plus I live here."

"Jason you don't-"

"I'm just busy! I know, I know, I should be home more, but when I'm blah blah blah." No longer unused to his inane ramblings, you unlock the door and push past him. You don't even stop him when he follows you inside, still going on about his delusions. You just roll your eyes when he takes of his shoes and jacket and tosses them aside like they he really does live there.

"You shouldn't make dinner, you've had a long day, we can order-"

He's interrupted by yet another sigh. "Jason," you begin, plopping down on the couch. He shuts up and listens intently to every sound coming from your mouth. "I just . . ." You sit up straight. "You don't live here, you're a stalker, and we are not dating." Jason nods as you talk, slowly, as if he's taking in what you said.

"I . . . I understand. I really am sorry I've upset you, but," He kneels on the ground in front of you, gently placing his hand on your thigh. "I am not a stalker." He's incredulous, and you're tired. At this point, what more can you do beside oblige him and his delusions. You sigh again, a deep, deep sigh that instantly drains you of the rest of your energy and makes you deflate into the couch. "Okay, Jay," You say, undressing as you stand and begin walking back to your room. "You win, you're my boyfriend. Goodnight."

Jason just happily nods as he watches you walk to bed. "Yeah, yeah, I win." He's just happy you finally came to your senses. "Night!" He happily calls after you.

#bizbat #dc #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd fluff #jason todd headcanons #dc x reader

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yandere-daydreams · 7 months

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Title: Well Directed.

Written for a very lovely, very patient anonymous commisioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Arlecchino x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 2.0k.

TW: Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Intimidation, Biting/Blood, Unhealthy Relationships, and Slight Dehumanization.

Arlecchino greeted you the way she always did – through touch.

Despite everything, you had to admit Arlecchino’s ability to dampen her footsteps, to muffle her breathing, to somehow disguise the weight of her state and heat of her unnaturally warm body and the very fact of her own existence was undeniably impressive – even more so when she managed to hide herself from someone like you, someone so preoccupied with knowing the exact position of every actor as soon as they stepped onto your stage. Your first hint that she was coming to see you was the feeling of her talons on the dip of your shoulder, drifting upward to the curve of your neck, then the sight of her reflection in the mirror of your vanity, appearing as if she’d always been there, as if your eyes hadn’t been fixed to the door of your dressing room since locked yourself behind it, content to spend your intermission in peaceful seclusion. You’d planned to use what little free time you had to clear your head and prepare yourself properly for the rest of the night, but as always, she was there to make sure your mind would be filled with only thoughts of her. If Arlecchino had it her way, there was a good chance you’d never be able to think about anything else.

When you tried to stand, crumbling under the reflex to put any amount of distance between you and her, Arlecchino’s hand rose to your throat, catching you just under the chin and burying her claws in each corner of your jaw. Immediately, you went still, and she rewarded you with an airy chuckle, a tilted head. “Good puppet,” she praised, loosening her hold on you with the assurance that you’d learned your lesson quickly. “You were brilliant out there. Truly, the rest of the production is paler for having to stand in comparison to you.”

You wished you could’ve preened, could’ve basked her praise the same way you did when one of your performances caught the eye of a particularly flattering columnist, when you overheard one of your costars gushing about how proud they were to be working with someone of your renowned. Instead, all her words – no matter how kind, no matter how adoring – ever seemed to do was send a chill down your spine, to make you regret ever auditioning in the first place. Could her praise be considered sincere, if you knew she wouldn’t remember a single line you delivered a few minutes after the curtains closed? Could you take her compliments as anything but blatant condescension, if you knew the only reason she’d sat through your performance at all was to admire her newest toy?

But, you couldn’t say that out loud, so you only bowed your head, settling onto the stool of your vanity as you attempted to find your voice. “It was only the first act,” you mumbled, eventually. “And my scenes were hardly anything noteworthy. My character doesn’t really find their footing until the climax.”

“I disagree. Try as I might, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.” She didn’t have to tell you that. You’d felt stare prying into you every time you were on stage, and if it hadn’t been for the blinding lights, you were sure you would’ve been able to see her in the dead-center of the first row, grinning wildly as she watched you put on a show she’d already attended half a dozen times since opening night. If she actually bothered to pay attention, you were sure she would have the script memorized, by now. “Although, I couldn’t help but notice you weren’t wearing my last gift. What if I lost track of you up there, dear?”

Her last ‘gift’. Your heart skipped a beat at the reminder. It’d been a gaudy thing – a rose-shaped breastpin, crafted with tens of hundreds of pinprick rubies and lined with a frame of pure obsidian. She’d let one of her masked soldiers make the delivery, but her note had been clear enough. You were supposed to wear the awful thing during your next performance, in front of a crowd of hundreds. You’d crushed it under your heel before your anger could turn into mortification. The dread had only taken root as you cleaned up the broken pieces and began to imagine how Arlecchino might react to your ungratefulness. She could weather most things, but such blatant disobedient had never gotten you more than a bruised cheek, rope-burnt wrists, and a few days spent in the guestroom of her manor.

“I’m sorry, my lord. I tried, but the costuming department overruled me.” You let your eyes fall to the ground, playing sheepish. As if you were genuinely apologetic. As if any part of you regretted not being able to wear her claim on you in front of half the population of Fontaine. “You know how it is. Everything has to be approved by the director, lest a misplaced prop lead the audience to the wrong conclusion.”

She hummed, letting her hand fall to the low collar of your top. It was far from the most risqué costume you’d ever worn, but the plunging neckline suddenly left you feeling more exposed than you would’ve liked. “Give me a name.”

You stiffened. “…excuse me?”

“Who made the call? Give me a name and I’ll take care of the rest.” Her pitch-black claws ran over your collarbone, playing with the idea of breaking the skin. You already knew that the ghost of her drifting affection would linger for seconds, minutes, hours after she was gone, when you were left alone with her voice still ringing in your ears. It was more than likely that you’d spend the second act performing under the careful supervision of her phantom touch. “If it’s the director, don’t bite your tongue. The show can go on without that bumbling idiot.”

“No, I—” The threat was clear, direct. She’d made similar promises before – when the man behind the counter of her preferred bakery called you by your name as you hung from her arm, when one of her subordinates seemed just a little too excited to attend one of your shows. In her ideal world, you’d be little more than a ballerina twirling in one of her music boxes; there to smile and dance when she desired to see you and locked away from prying eyes when she did not. You’d do nothing but giggle and laugh and bend to her whims, too happy in her gilded cage to ever throw yourself at the bars. “I’m sorry,” you said, again, and this time you tried to mean it. “I… I lied to you, earlier. I damaged it this morning while trying to put it on, and—” A pause, a laugh. “Archons, I’m so embarrassed. I just couldn’t stand the idea of letting you know I was so thoughtless with one of your presents.”

It was far from your best work. Your speech was too stilted, your tone too dire for the occasion, your body language too stiff to convey much of anything beyond the simple hope that she would believe you. You would’ve been mortified to let anything so visibly improvised make it in front of a real audience, but Arlecchino was far from a critic. Her grin – as unwavering as it was monstrous – softened, her sadism partially sated by your complete, unabashed submission. Her hand fell away from you completely, and you beamed, letting your heart soar at the thought that she’d finally found some scrap of empathy for you.

Of course, your elation was quickly punished. It always caught you off guard – just how fast she was, just how strong she was, just how much she enjoyed reminding you of exactly why she could afford to be so self-indulgent when it came to her ever-growing collection of pretty little things. One moment, you were smiling at her reflection, and the next, the mirror had been shattered into more pieces than you could ever be able to count, anything it might’ve once shown distorted beyond all recognition. An intricate web of hairline fractures stretched outward from the point where her fist connected with the glass, but she regarded the devastation with little more than a slight hum, a sleeve dragged over her bleeding knuckles. “I think it’s my turn to apologize.” The sound of her heels against tile, the feeling of her arms wrapping around your waist. “You know how I get when I’m upset.”

Upset. You could’ve laughed, if you hadn’t forgotten how to use your lungs. You could’ve cried, if you weren’t too scared to move. If your unresponsiveness bothered her, if she noticed you hadn’t blinked since she lashed out, your paralysis wasn’t deemed worthy of her concern. Instead, she only pulled you against her chest, letting her chin rest on the dip of your shoulder. “You’re special, you know. I don’t lose my temper for every little actor who thinks they can get away with being so…” Her claws skirted over your side, threatening to tear through the delicate fabric of your costume. “Unappreciative. That’s a good word for it, isn’t it? You’ve always been the more eloquent one, between the two of us.”

Multiple temptations surfaced in you all at once. Part of you wanted to cry, to beg for her forgiveness, to promise you’d never be so selfish and so stupid again if she’d only let you go unharmed tonight. Another more rebellious faction screamed at you to run, to try in vain to hide yourself away from such an obvious predator, unwilling to acknowledge how many times you’d tried that before and how many times it hadn’t worked. And yet, neither impulse overwhelmed you, in the end. Arlecchino’s training took control and you left you speaking hollowly, the words finding your way to your tongue before your conscious mind could so much as realize that you’d opened your mouth. “Unappreciative, my lord. I’ve been unappreciative.” Then, leaning against her, “What can I do to earn your forgiveness?”

“Good little thing,” she said, by way of an answer. Her grin was the widest it’d ever been. “My perfect little puppet.”

This time, you were able to find a note of joy in her praise, to seek comfort in the fact that her faux-affection meant you wouldn’t be the next thing crushed under her rage. That happiness was only partially dampened by the weight of her lips against your shoulder, then drifting upward, latching onto the tender patch of flesh just below your jugular. Her teeth, like her fingertips, were sharpened to fine points, each able to pierce your skin with all the thought it would’ve taken her to swat a fly out of the air, to pluck a wildflower from its patch. You felt warm blood trickle past her lips and down your collarbone, let a low whimper slip past your grit teeth as she dug that much deeper, as she carelessly tore through everything she touched. When you shifted, attempting to relieve a fraction of the pressure on your throat, of the burning ache just underneath your skin, her hands clamped down around your hips, her hold on you tightening and dragging you that much closer to her chest, that much deeper into her embrace.

By the time she pulled away, there was a dark ring of bruising carved into the side of your neck, emphasized by the bright red stain of her lipstick against your skin, the trail of crimson dripping down your chest and pooling above your collarbone. You weren’t able to stop yourself, cursing as you scrambled for something on your vanity table that you could use to limit the damage, but Arlecchino stopped you, taking up either of your wrists and forcing your arms to your sides. “Trying to hurt my feelings again?” She ran her tongue up the side of your throat, adding a vulgar smear to the mess she’d made of you. “Leave it as it is – I want you wearing my mark for the rest of your performance. And, if someone tries to stop you, tell them I’m the only one you’ll be taking direction from, from now on.”

You were too stunned to respond, too mortified to blink. Somewhere in the distance, a stagehand called five minutes to curtain, and Arlecchino let out a breathy laugh. With no small amount of hesitancy, she detangled herself from you, making her way to the door of the dressing room, the space now too contaminated to be called your own.

As her fingertips grazed the knob, her glanced back to you, her eyes meeting yours in the shattered remains of your mirror. You could’ve sworn you could still see the faint tint of your blood on her teeth as the corner of her lips tugged upward and something buried deep, deep inside of you withered and died.

“I’ll be watching, dearest.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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mynameiswhateveryoudecide11 · 5 days

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Hello everyone,

long time anonymous Kaylor here (lurker is the word probably), and long post incoming 💚

I’ve just recently started using this space more openly and sharing opinions, which I’ve honestly always been quite scared to do for various reasons, so I just wanted to share a bit of how I became a part of this little piece of heaven here on Kaylor tumblr and how important this community has been to me 🌈

When I first found out about Kaylor, it was years ago through a mutual connection on instagram. At the time, I too was going through a phase of slowly understanding myself and my queerness, which I’d obviously suppressed for so long (it took me just as many years, if not more, to actually accept it after realising it had always been there). So when I found this rabbit hole (or should i say these rabbit holes, as it all started with TTB, kaylor evidence, the masterposts, and all of the newer tumblr pages that have kept the memories from the archives alive all these years) - I finally realised what had always been quite confusing before: why did I always relate to Taylor’s music so deeply ? why did I feel like I could actually feel was she was feeling, even though I’d definitely never felt so strongly about any man in my life, while she was allegedly the straightest human on the planet ? Well that’s because she wasn’t. She was, although on a much bigger and more complicated and public scale, one of us 🎉🌈 As someone who struggled for years to accept my non-straightness, finding out that the biggest artist on Earth, whose music I’d loved for so long, was a tiny bit similar to me and my experience, made me feel a warmth and a tenderness and a happiness so strong that my heart could have exploded for it. I genuinely cried myself to sleep every night for 2 / 3 weeks after finding out. A happy, sad, angry kind of cry - happy to be in on the most beautiful secret of our generation, sad for all the freedom and the life that T & K have had to miss out on, and angry, SO fucking angry that some small-minded, arrogant idiots felt entitled enough to do this to them, to her. To take a life that wasn’t theirs, and make it what they wanted it to be, and take what they wanted from it. Fuck you. Fuck all of you who did this. “So unfair” I mumbled while trying to sleep. “So beautiful” I couldn’t breathe.

Fast-forward to today, I’ve spent an unreasonable and unhealthy amount of time lurking on every corner of the tumblrverse as well as analysing songs (my fave past time) and converting all my besties to Kaylorism (they are now so invested it’s ruining our lives 😂💖).

I’ve been trying to learn as much as possible and I’m so thankful to all the fabulous blogs on here:

@spade-riddles

@chosetherose

@9w1ft

@asteracaea

@rainbowdaisy13

@daisyswift3

@kwyw

@iwanthermidnightz

@tales-of-kaylor

@bettyshoweduptotheparty

and I’m sure there’s so many more I’m forgetting please drop your @ if you’d like !!

All this to say, I’ve spent years anonymously supporting and reading theories and enjoying the amazing safe space you have created for our community - you all have changed my life and I’m sure you’ve changed T’s life too, so I just wanted to share my little bit of personal Kaylor lore because it still makes me so happy and emotional to think about all the difficult times we’ve all been through and knowing that now the future’s bright, dazzling 💖🌈

Sending love out to you all, thanks for everything. Onwards and upwards from here xx

#kaylor #lgbt

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hungermakesmonsters · 4 months

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Catch Me If You Can

Chapter Thirteen

Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done, Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Chapter Rating : PG

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] This chapter contains very vague mentions of an unhealthy relationship (Billy/Krista) and a sibling death. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : ~4.7k

A/N : This is set a week or so after the last chapter after the last chapter. Thanks to everyone still reading this, I'm honestly overwhelmed by how many of you are following this week after week. I've hit 83 subscribers now and I'm at such a loss for words. Thanks for being awesome.

Chapter Thirteen

To his credit, Billy left you alone, giving you the time that you had asked for. But the longer you went without hearing from him, the more you found yourself staring at your phone, longing for it to ring or light up with a message from him. Selfishly, you wanted him to fight for you, even though you’d asked him not to. You’d told him you needed time and he was giving it to you, so it wasn’t fair for you to feel disappointed. But you did and, the more time that passed, the more it felt like things were over.

And it hurt - it hurt more than you could describe. It was exactly what you’d been afraid of, the sort of pain that only Billy could cause. He hadn’t just become a part of your life, he’d taken over it, he’d become everything in such a short amount of time. You’d let yourself get too attached, too fast, and now you felt ridiculous. It had only been a few weeks. It shouldn’t hurt so much, but the longer you left it, the more certain you were that Billy had given up on you. And that thought hurt more than anything else.

It hurt because you didn’t know if he was hurting.

It hurt because some part of you wanted him to hurt, for him to feel what you were feeling.

(It hurt because you were worried that he was hurting and that he felt like you’d abandoned him.)

And, the worst part? You still hadn’t come to terms with anything that had happened, why you’d walked out in the first place. You didn’t want to come to terms with it, you didn’t even want to think about it. There was a reason you wanted to keep the past buried. You’d fought so hard against being with Billy because you’d known that there would be moments where you couldn’t keep your past separate without letting something slip. And, now, Billy had some idea of what you’d been through - and how were you supposed to even start to explain it to him?

After a week, you’d all but given up. It was done, over. Billy was out of your life and you were sure you’d both be better for it.

“So - you and Billy, that’s over now?” Karen asked with all the tact of a sledgehammer as she sat across from you, placing your drink in front of you.

She’d asked you out, told you it was to do with work, but you should have guessed that the topic of you and Billy was going to come up. At least she didn’t sound upset or surprised that you’d broken things off with her friend.

“I guess? I don’t know,” you shrugged awkwardly, gaze dropping to the drink in front of you. “Did he tell you that it was?”

“No, Frank put it together when Billy started turning up at Anvil hungover.”

You first thought was worry, but that quickly became something else the more you thought about it. Hangovers meant that he’d been spending his nights drinking, and Billy never struck you as the type to drink alone. And, if he wasn’t drinking alone, he probably wasn’t going home alone either.

You’d spent a week worrying and pining over him, and he’d probably had someone new in his bed only a few hours after you’d left him.

“What happened?” She asked, breaking the silence that you’d allowed to fall.

“It wasn’t going to work out,” you forced yourself to look at her and the look she shot you told you that she wasn’t satisfied with that answer.

“What did he do?”

“Nothing, it’s not -” a heavy sigh slipped out and you reached for your beer, “- there was something I didn’t want to tell him and it kinda came out in an argument, and we both overreacted. And, now everything’s a mess and I just - I think he’ll be better off without me.”

“I don’t think Frank’d agree; he’s babysitting Billy tonight, says he’s never seen him like this before.” It wasn’t her intention to hurt you, but it did hurt.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of other women out there that’ll make him feel better,” you muttered, not even trying to cover the bitterness in your tone.

“I don’t think that’s what Billy wants anymore...” she answered back before taking a drink.

As much as you wanted to ask what she meant, as much as you wanted to indulge the little spark of hope that had lit itself in your chest, you knew that dragging things out would only lead to more pain.

“Look, I - I’m sorry, but I really don’t want to talk about it,” you finally told her as firmly, but politely as possible. “You said you wanted to talk about work?”

Karen took a moment, and you could tell there was more she wanted to say, but the discomfort on your face was enough to convince her not to.

“One of our photographers was supposed to be taking some maternity leave in a couple of months, but she decided that she doesn’t want to come back after. I just thought that, if you wanted, I could put your name forward for the job?”

“You mean I’d be working for The Bulletin full-time?”

“Yeah, it’d be a full salaried position.”

“I, uh -” despite everything else you were feeling, you felt your lips pull into an awkward sort of smile, though you tried not to get too excited about the idea, “- that would be amazing, thank you.”

Karen reiterated the fact that it wasn’t an actual offer of a job just yet, that she still needed to get her boss onboard with it, but she seemed hopeful that she’d be able to convince him - after all, you’d always done good work for them in the past.

The mood shifted after that; you had more drinks and played some pool with Karen and a couple of guys that she used to work with; Matt and Foggy, who’d turned up at the bar an hour or so after you and Karen. And it was fun, it was nice - and, after the week of misery that you’d been through, it felt good to stop thinking about Billy.

But every time you saw Karen looking at her phone, you couldn’t stop yourself from imagining that she was talking to Frank, and Frank was telling her about Billy. And, eventually, it became too much to bear. You didn’t want to keep pretending that he didn’t exist. So, you pulled your phone out and found yourself staring at one of the last messages he’d sent you.

I never knew I could miss someone so much.

Your heart ached and you knew that you couldn’t keep dragging things out, that your silence wasn’t fair to either of you.

I know it’s probably not worth anything now, but I just want you to know that I’m sorry how things turned out. I never meant to hurt you.

Less than a minute after you hit send, he started to type, as if he’d been staring at his phone just waiting for you to text. It started and then stopped over and over again, you held your breath, not sure you were going to like whatever it was that he had to say.

Don’t be sorry. You did nothing wrong.

He finally answered and you kept staring at your phone, hoping, wanting more for him. But, after five minutes, there was still nothing besides that one little message. You waited another minute before replying;

Are you okay?

You weren’t sure whether or not you expected an answer - he was probably busy, probably having fun without you.

Fine.

It took less than twenty seconds for him to answer. Okay, so not too busy having fun, but his short responses made it seem like he wasn’t all that interested. It felt like you finally had your answer; it was over.

Okay.

Was all you sent in response because you still couldn’t bring yourself to say goodbye. And, then, there was nothing. He read the message but he didn’t even try to reply. After fifteen minutes you couldn’t bear to look at your phone, you just wanted to go home and sleep but Karen and her friends wanted you to stay. It was sweet, really, the way they seemed to want to cheer you up, you just weren’t sure that it was going to help at all. But, still, you stayed and played a few more rounds of pool before Karen’s face dropped.

Following her gaze, you looked towards the door and found Frank and Billy standing there. Frank came closer, but Billy stayed where he was.

“What the hell, Frank?” Karen demanded.

“He wasn’t gonna take no for an answer,” Frank told her, sparing you a glance, “if he can talk to her maybe they can sort their shit out and I won’t have to carry him home again.”

Your stomach knotted, eyes finding Billy again - had he been that bad? He didn’t look great; he looked tired, dishevelled, and like he’d already had a little too much to drink. Not exactly the best conditions for having a serious conversation, but if it was all you were going to get then you were going to have to take it.

“You don’t have to,” Frank started again, this time addressing you, “just say the word and I’ll drag his ass outta here, but I really think you oughta put him out of his misery if you’re done with him.”

You looked at Billy for a second more, his dark eyes fixed on you until you gave a slight nod of your head, motioning towards an empty booth where you could talk. Billy gave the slightest nod in return before starting to move. You heard Karen mutter something but your attention was stuck on Billy who looked like a man walking to his own execution.

Grabbing your drink off the edge of the pool table you headed for the booth, sliding in opposite him.

“Hey,” you offered softly, managing the slightest of smiles. Up close he looked worse than you'd originally thought.

“Hey,”

Then came silence and you quickly realised that he could barely bring himself to even look at you. About thirty seconds passed before he said anything.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” his voice was soft, so quiet that it was almost lost in the noise around you. “When I said I had issues with impulse control, it’s not just sex, it’s - sometimes things just make me feel crazy...”

He trailed off into silence and it quickly became clear that he didn’t even know where to start. So much had happened all at once and you didn’t blame him for not knowing how to talk about it. You weren’t sure either, but you decided to try to help.

“It wasn’t that you scared me - I didn’t think that you’d -” you took an awkward breath, but you didn’t stop, “I know you’d never hurt me like that. But when you said it, I panicked. You were so upset and I couldn’t think, and I just needed some space. I didn’t tell you about the scar because - because I can’t talk about it. I feel like I can’t even breathe when I think about it...”

You weren’t even sure if he understood, or if you were even making sense. Without even realising it, you’d started to tug at the sleeve of your top. Your heart was pounding in your chest and all you wanted to do was run and hide from all the feelings that stirred inside you when you thought about that scar.

Silence fell again, and Billy continued to struggle to find the words he wanted to say. It made your stomach knot to see him that way when, usually, he had an answer for everything. But you didn’t push, didn’t look at him impatiently. You wanted to give him time to explain himself. If this was the last time you saw him, you wanted to make sure he got to say everything he felt he needed to say.

“I feel out of control when I’m with you,” he confessed, “and it scares me.”

“Why? How? I don’t -” you weren’t sure you wanted an answer. Billy always seemed so in control to you, so completely unflappable and ready to take over any situation, so you just couldn’t fathom him feeling any other way.

“You make me want things I can’t have,” he struggled to hold your gaze and you weren’t sure you’d ever seen him look so vulnerable, “I know how I am isn’t ever gonna be enough for you and there’s nothing I can do to fix it; I can’t buy you with nice things, you don’t want my money, and I dunno how long I’m gonna be enough for you...”

As much as you’d wanted honesty from him, you hated every awkward word that left his lips. Your chest ached and your stomach knotted, and it made you angry that he thought so little of himself - that other people had let him think so little of himself.

“You’re wrong,” you told him, barely managing to bite back your anger. “You are enough - for me or for anyone else.”

“If I was, you wouldn’t have left me.”

It kept coming back to that, like he couldn’t understand that your leaving that day was because of the argument, not because of him. It wasn’t because you stopped wanting him, and it certainly wasn’t because he wasn’t enough.

“I left because you wouldn’t listen to me, Billy,” you tried to explain, “I didn’t want to leave, I just can’t do this if you won’t listen to me, if you won’t trust me. I can’t do that again. I didn’t leave you, I left the situation.”

“You said you needed time,” he answered back, still sounding so defeated. “I gave you time and you didn’t call.”

He had you there. Sure, you could lie to him, tell him that it had always been your intention to text him tonight, but that just felt wrong. You didn’t want to lie.

“I was scared,” you admitted and the look he gave you almost broke your heart, so much that you had to quickly correct; “not of you - of this, of us. Being with you is amazing, it’s just... it’s a lot, Billy, you know?”

He managed a nod. “When I looked through your phone, all I could think was that you’d found someone else and I’d be on my own again. ‘cause it’s just us, I -”

“You don’t want to be exclusive in case I leave you? You want to fuck other women so you have something to fall back on if we break up?” His eyes found yours as your voice broke but, soon enough they dropped to your hand, watching as continued to tug at your sleeve. “You keep saying that but I don’t know what you mean.”

“I don’t want that. I don’t want anyone else,” he tried to explain, stumbling over his words in a desperate attempt to make you understand. “That’s what fucks me up; it’s just us and that means, if I fuck up, I’ll be on my own again. But that doesn’t mean I want anyone else - I want whatever this is. I want us. I like being with you...”

“I -” you started then stopped, trying to wrap your head around everything that had been said, trying to decide what you really wanted, “- I like being with you, too.”

“I don’t know how to not fuck this up,” he sighed. “How can I fix this?”

Suddenly it didn’t feel like an ending, it felt like you could save whatever this was and, even though you were still scared that it’d go horribly wrong, you couldn’t deny that you still wanted him. Somewhere along the way, you’d started to care about him, and having gone through a week without him, you knew that you weren’t ready to let him go.

“I need you to talk to me - when things make you feel out of control, I need you to tell me, and I need you to try and listen to my side of things. And - and I’ll try not to hide so much.” Because being with him was worth that discomfort, it was worth letting him know some of the things that no one else knew.

“Does that mean we’re still -”

There still wasn’t a word for what you were, but you nodded regardless.

“If you promise you’ll talk to me and not -”

“I will,” he answered suddenly, like he was desperate for things to go back to how they had been. He reached across the table before you could respond, taking your hand in his, pulling your fingers away from your sleeve and holding tight. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” the slightest smile appearing on your lips for a few short seconds. “I was worried about you.”

Billy gave you a confused look but didn’t want to ask why. Instead his gaze dropped to your hands and his thumb started to rub gentle circles on the back of your hand. He seemed to have relaxed a little since he first showed up at the bar and, once some of the discomfort had dropped from his features, you could see just how exhausted he was.

“When was the last time you had a full night’s sleep?”

“The last time you stayed over.” Almost two weeks ago. No wonder he looked terrible. Still, he forced a smile and a shrug. “I’m fine.”

“Billy, you need sleep,” you told him softly.

“I -” he started and stopped awkwardly, “- I don’t sleep very well when I’m on my own.”

With any other man at any other time, you would have seen it as a ploy to get you into bed, but there was something about the way he said it, the way he looked in that moment.

“Do you want to -” you started before almost reconsidering, “- do you want to stay over tonight? Just to sleep, I - I don’t know when I’ll be ready for anything more than that.”

“I’d like that. I - we - can take things slow, whatever you need.” And, suddenly, there was hope on his face again.

“Okay, just - just stay here a minute while I tell Karen we're leaving.”

Karen, for obvious reasons, had her reservations about you taking Billy home. She tried to talk you out of it while Frank did his best to stay quiet on the matter, but the look on his face seemed to suggest he was glad that you'd sorted things out. You didn't dare ask how much Billy had told him, you didn't even want to think about it.

You ordered an Uber and headed back to the table to wait, this time sitting next to Billy, letting him take your hand in his again. He didn't say much, presumably because he was tired, and once the Uber was there he followed you outside, still clinging to your hand. You barely spoke the whole ride back to your apartment, save to tell him that Tammy wouldn’t be there because she’d been staying with her new boyfriend a lot.

He held your hand as you led him up the stairs and into the apartment, still so quiet. Once the door was shut behind you and you were finally alone, you found yourself holding your breath, expecting Billy to do - something, anything. Instead he did nothing; there were no awkward attempts to kiss you or hold you and, once you let go of his hand, he kept a respectable distance.

And you hated it.

Not because you hadn’t wanted it and not because you hadn’t agreed that you needed to take things slow, but because Billy seemed almost afraid of touching you or getting too close, and you knew exactly why. This was why you hadn’t wanted to tell him about your past or your scars, because you didn’t want him to see you as someone who’d been hurt in the past.

No, no - as much as you needed to take things slowly, you couldn’t stand this muted version of him.

Reaching for his hand, you pulled him through the apartment and into the bathroom. He gave you a confused look as you reached into the shower and started the water.

“You smell of whiskey,” was the only explanation you offered before slowly helping him out of his clothes. Unlike every other time you’d undressed him, there was nothing sexual about the act and Billy understood that.

Ushering him into the shower, you quickly shed your own clothes and followed after, earning a tired laugh from him when he saw your blue shower cap with rubber ducks printed on it. You helped him wash, lathering him in your vanilla scented body wash before letting him do the same for you. All the while, neither of you really spoke, but he seemed to relax a little and realise that, even if you were taking things slow, he didn’t have to keep his distance.

Done in the shower and both somewhat dressed again (you in your PJs and Billy in his boxers) you led him to your bedroom and told him to get into bed before disappearing to the kitchen. You weren’t sure what possessed you to do it, but a few minutes later you returned to the room with two mugs of hot chocolate, topped with whipped cream and marshmallows.

But you almost froze when you found him in your bed holding the framed photo that usually sat on your bedside table. He put it back the moment he realised you were there.

“Sorry, I was just -”

“It’s okay,” you shook your head as you handed him his drink and climbed into bed beside him. You put your mug down on the bedside table and reached for the frame, looking at the three children in the photograph, standing happily on a golden, sandy beach.

“Is that your brother?” He dared to ask.

“Yeah,” you smiled softly, looking at the gangly boy in the picture, “that’s Sam.”

“And the other girl?”

The smile faded almost entirely. “Lily, my little sister.”

“You have a sister?”

“Had. She - she died a year or two after this photo was taken.”

You heard the exhale but you didn't look at him, you didn't want to see the look on his face.

“I'm sorry,” he offered softly.

You didn't respond, you just put the photo back and grabbed for the TV remote. Soon enough you were sipping hot chocolate and watching Bob's Burgers. Billy, for the most part, stayed quiet, drinking his hot drink without comment and letting out little huffs of laughter any time he found something in the show amusing.

Billy looked half asleep by the time he’d finished his hot chocolate, his eyes closing for seconds at a time but he didn’t seem to want to give in to sleep.

“How was your hot chocolate?” You asked taking his empty mug and placing it beside yours on the nightstand, a little amused that he’d drunk the whole thing without commenting on it once

“It was nice. This is nice, it’s -” he started before stopping, an awkward sort of smile on his lips, “- no one’s ever done anything like this for me before.”

In a way, it felt special to be able to give Billy any sort of first, but you couldn’t help the feeling of sadness that swelled inside you. How had he never had this before? How had no one else in his life ever offered him this simple sort of comfort?

“Hey,” he muttered softly, his hand finding your cheek, “don’t be sad.”

“I’m not, I just - how has no one ever taken care of you before?”

“I guess I never really let anyone. I never really wanted to.” His shoulder ticked in an awkward sort of half-shrug. “A lot of my relationships haven’t exactly been deep.”

You hesitated before asking; “what about Krista?”

A flicker of tension ran across his face, and you regretted asking, so much so that you almost wanted to take it back. Billy settled back a little, using getting himself comfortable as an excuse not to answer for a few seconds.

“Krista happened at a bad time in my life,” he finally sighed, “I'd been hurt, she was my therapist, I - I told her things I’ve never told anyone. She made me feel broken but told me I could be fixed, and that was all I wanted.”

You tried your best to school your expression, to not let him see the emotions that were warring inside of you; sadness for him, and a hatred of her that had you hoping you saw her again just so you could tell her what you thought of her.

“I stopped going to our sessions after a while - therapy just wasn’t for me,” he shrugged and it was no surprise why. “But when I ran into her again, it felt like there was a connection, it felt easy because she already knew me better than almost anyone. It started slow, she’d make little comments about things, then when I’d argue she’d tell me that I was upset because I don’t feel things the right way - that my trauma messed up the way I process emotions - and, sometimes, when I wanted to -” you were glad he decided not to go into any detail at all about sleeping with her, “- she’d act like I was being unreasonable for wanting it, like it was too much or I wanted too much...”

“She told you that you have poor impulse control.” You’d already assumed as much, but he confirmed it with a nod of his head.

“At the time, it felt like she was being completely reasonable and that, if I did what she wanted, I’d get better...”

“Billy...” you offered tenderly, finding his hand on top of the blankets and taking hold of it, “there’s nothing wrong with you and - and that bitch should never have told you there was. You know that, right? She shouldn’t’ve even been in a relationship with you; it’s so disgusting and unprofessional.”

He just shrugged at your anger, sinking down the bed a little more obviously too tired to carry on the conversation (or maybe he just didn’t want to because he didn’t want to argue). You followed suit until you were both laid beside each other, the tips of your noses almost touching.

“Why weren’t you answering your brother’s calls?” He asked after a minute or so of silence, and it was your turn to sigh.

“It’s complicated,” and you didn’t really want to say more than that, but given everything Billy had told you about Krista, it didn’t seem fair not to give him a real answer. “He can be... protective. He doesn’t think I can take care of myself and it feels suffocating. After we started seeing each other, I felt like I was in a good place and I didn’t want him making me feel bad about it.”

“Why would he make you feel bad?”

“Because haven’t always had the best taste in men and because he doesn’t realise that I’ve grown up.” You sighed again. If Billy could tell you were holding things back, he didn’t let on.

“You think he wouldn’t approve of me?”

“I think it doesn’t matter what he thinks,” you shrugged, “but, if he got to know you, I know he’d like you, he’d just - he’d find a way to make me feel like I shouldn’t be with you, like I can’t handle it.”

He nodded and decided not to say anything else on matter; it felt like a good middle ground; you’d both shared what needed to be shared, everything else could come later. His eyes closed again and you tried your best to stifle a yawn before awkwardly twisting to turn off the lamp, plunging you into darkness.

Without thinking, you reached for him, your fingers stroking his hair, trying to soothe him to sleep.

“I should be taking care of you,” he muttered softly, “I’m the one that fucked up.”

You shushed him, before whispering; “I’m proving a point.”

“What point?”

“That you are enough, Billy.”

He didn’t say another word before falling asleep.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

END NOTES : So this one got a bit talk-y and I hope people don't mind that. I just need Billy and reader to really get to know each other before I can get them to where they're going. Don't worry, they're not going to be able to keep their hands off each other for long.

As always, thank you so much for reading, I'm still completely blown away how many of you come back week after week to read this!!

If you want adding/removing from the tag list let me know (I know some people are having issues with the tags? think you might need to enable tagging on your end of things? IDK tumblr is weird)

TAG LIST

@lincerad @sweetserendipity65 @rafaelakelley @slayerofthevampire @rensolodriver @lovelydoveval @doloreschanal @damagelove @danzer8705 @unlikelystarlightcowboy @schlotzshewrote @bisexualbith @uncontainedsmiles @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @lilliesofmay @billyrussoslut

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #billy russo fanfic #the punisher #cmiyc ff #billy russo imagine

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kneelingshadowsalome · 10 months

Note

ok tbh…fellow readers don’t kill me but i feel like konig is still using readr for sex…or like actually doesnt love her yk…like anyone can fill that role and she is cause there’s no other woman around 😭 IDK i can’t put my finger on it

Ok, this is a tricky one and I'm glad you asked! Because... (and I also hope my readers won't kill me for this) like I said in my answer to this ask, I profiled König as a sociopath. And I can and I will put my finger on it 🫠

The following are my thoughts on the subject & antisocial pd (otherwise known as sociopathy). I hope you read about this m. disorder if it interests you, pls do not take my words as gospel! I also wish to remind that this is fiction and I'm practically ready to bend the laws of physics if I have to, to force even the most disputable, unstable and corrupt of characters give and receive love because that's just my cup of tea. 🩷

First of all, sociopaths are typically viewed to be incapable of love and empathy. They use manipulation to get what they want. Being in a relationship with a sociopath is described to feel incredible and passionate one moment, and confusing and scary the next. If you know what's good for you, you wouldn't even want to be special to a sociopath.

Sociopaths themselves often claim they do love those selected few they respect, just not in ways "normal" people regard as love. And this, I think, is where it gets interesting.

The definition of love as unconditional, sacrificial and selfless care for another person is not a sociopath's definition of love. They might care about a tiny amount of handpicked people, to some extent. For a sp, love is when they refrain from harming those few they care for. That's pretty cold, right?

Still, sociopaths are not devoid of emotion even if the most common emotion they feel is rage. They are not narcissists even if they are manipulative, emotionally cold, and act entitled at times. There seems to be dispute over whether sociopaths feel empathy or not (psychos don't, they simply can't because of an impaired mirror neuron system). Their defense mechanisms consist of manipulation, extreme detachment and extreme impulsivity; it's been their only way to survive in a disorganized, unloving and unstable environment.

König is someone who has been neglected and abused, who has never been shown what love even means. Everything has been conditional. He's lived in constant fear and anxiety; he has never had a loving or a stable father, his mother practically denied the abuse he had to suffer by not intervening, he has never had any friends (like he says himself in ch. 1), has only ever received attention through fear and disgust. The only dream he had in this life, the only possible redemption arc, so to say, went to shit.

It's not anyone's job to fix this kid, sure. But when, from where, or from who would he have learned to love?

When reader comes along, she shows kindness to him, forgives his trespassings over and over again, and chooses to trust in him even when afraid. If we only talk in terms of sociopaths/manipulators and their victims, then yes, this is a horrible setting, because it is the perfect setting for abuse.

And it's true: there is no one else around. All the yearning and thirst and starvation is immediately projected onto the first and only person who finally shows him some kindness, even after all his drastic shortcomings. So she isn't "special". But in a way, she's more than special: she's world shiftingly, groundbreakingly special 😐

What we know is this: König asks if he is harassing her and if she wants him to stop. He vows multiple times he would never hurt her. He assaults someone who, in his mind, mistreats her (and who reminds him of a person who mistreated him and his mother when he was a kid), leaves reader eventually alone when she shows signs of not forgiving him/wanting him in her life anymore.

These are all toxic breadcrumbs, and this whole setting is unhealthy and problematic. A sane and cynical person would say that this is manipulative and abusive. A sensitive, overly compassionate person might say this is a sociopath's only way to love.

Reader may not have been special when she first came into König's life. He saw her as a plaything first, but can you blame a touch-starved man for trying to get some intimacy? König doesn't trust anyone, doesn't know how to give or get comfort other than through sex, so of course he would opt for sex first. (Also, let's be real: who would suffer this kind of man if he wasn't so hot? No one, for goodness sakes)

The connection that blooms afterwards, I imagined and wrote as real, no matter what or who he is (because I'm a naive romantic at heart 🥰). He's not a green flag man by any means, but he's trying his best (which will never be enough). Had I wrote him a psychopath, the story would have been way more darker, and even the minimum amount of empathy and true love that is, at times, present in this fic, would not have been there at all.

König also sacrifices himself for reader at the end of the last chapter. A through-and-through sociopath would not perhaps deem it in their best interest to go that far, even if the "gains" were abundant (reader's deepening attachment and eternal gratitude). This is why this particular scene is important, because it poses the question: is he really a sociopath? Why would he do this? Because at this point, reader is indeed very goddamn special :D

I'd also like to entertain the question: how special is König to reader? I mean, don't we all just want to take these broken men like Ghost and König home and "cure" their sadness by giving them some— ahem, *gunshots*, this was a little off topic, but you get the idea. Savior complex is real, too!

If König is ever diagnosed with APD, reader would probably educate herself and find that sociopaths cannot love, and they cannot change because there is no cure: the damage is already done. These people will only use and abuse those who don't get out of the relationship. She would also find that there are sociopaths who are still in touch with their families, who have kids and partners and who have learned to "behave" for the sake of their loved ones. Either because they actually care or because it serves their interests (of being loved? Don't we all want to be loved?).

Again, this is fiction. I don't wish to justify this character's actions nor condone this kind of abusive behavior (should go without saying but perhaps it's best to state it at least sometimes to be clear ❤️). Nor do I want to condemn the reader for having feelings and empathy for this big, abused wreck. And the reason why I can't give you a clear answer on this is because there is none :')

If you people have thoughts on this, something you wish to share, I would love to hear and chat and just…*pls* this is such an interesting topic! Don't be shy 🩷🤗

(Also pls don't kill me)

#answered #yandere könig #könig headcanons #ramblings #i need to be gagged

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a-tiny-teez · 5 months

Text

Behind the scenes

Yandere Director OC X Fem reader

Part 1

Warning : 18+ content,MDNI, age gap, yandere themes, kidnapping,power imbalance, implied non-con, slight slow burn, reader is in her mid twenties and yandere Director is in his late thirties.

1:34 AM

The sound of the clock ticking away could be heard as you continue to type away on the keyboard.The last few scenes of the work you've been working on are going to be completed and with new inspiration you continue . Pulling all nighters , dumping strong coffee in your system and an unhealthy amount of rest has been your life for the last six months.

The purrs of your beloved cat taking your attention for a slight bit was actually quite good for your eyes as looking at a screen for a long time strained your eyes heavily. You looked at your cat with a smile. “ Just a bit left baby ”.It wasn't that you had a deadline. It's just that you loved your work. Your friends often made jokes about your intense workaholic routine but you just laughed them off.

“ At this point you're gonna have to marry your own character” , your friend Becky said laughing.

“ Wouldn't be bad you know” ,you smirked at her and she shook her head with a smile.

Being a playwright was your dream that you accomplished just a few years ago. Doing part time jobs and studying were most of the things you did during your college days. So although you were completely new to this field of work , you have gained quite a good amount of fame. Some of your work has been appreciated by the audience and the rookie playwright of the year award was a great feat of accomplishment of your whole life.

Now back to present, with the last word typed away you save your work and then send it to your beta to recheck everything. Stretching your arms out you yawned and finally stood up. Going over to your kitchen and opening a cabinet you pulled out a microwave ramen and decided to settle for it tonight. You decided tomorrow you'd go grocery shopping as you shivered watching the sorry state of fridge. After a few minutes you had your ramen while watching the tv . There was nothing much going on the tv at this time so you settled for a documentary show that was being re-broadcasted.

Oh , it's him. You thought as you slurped on the noodles. Spicey just as you liked it. The documentary was about a famous film director. You had seen him a few times during award shows. He was one of the most successful directors of the time and all of his films were successful as he got the best director awards quite a few times. It must be fate now that you came across this because you were just thinking about sending him your work. You doubted it'd be accepted but still it's worth a shot. You gotta keep trying in this field of job.

Hoping you'd at least have your work checked by him you turned off the TV and dumped the trash in the garbage can. Then after cleaning up you went to bed to get the sleep you very much needed.

____________________

“ I've finished rechecking. It's all good to send. Be assured”, said your beta, Alan .

“Alright. Done” you said clicking the send button. Now if it's accepted you'd get to meet the director and it'll be made into a film. Your genre this time matched with the kind of works he worked on so you hoped your work will get at least the recognition.

“ Man I hope I'll get accepted”

“ Don't worry. I have a good feeling about this and you worked really hard on this so don't lose hope” , reassured Alan. You smiled at him and hoped for the best.

“You wanna get lunch ? My treat.” You asked.

“Why not? Can't say no to free food”, he sheepishly smiled.

Alan was like your little brother. He's been with you ever since your first work and over the time you two bonded as if he was family. He was still a student from your alma mater and he looked up to you a lot. You were happy to have him appreciate you cause there were times when you felt despair but he was the one who always helped you get through tough times.

After eating and bidding Alan goodbye you went to the grocery store. Walking towards the aisle you remembered what you needed and put them in the cart. A carton of milk, eggs, vegetables, sausages ,Nutella oh and you were about to run out of coffee so a jar of coffee. Okay , that's all from here . Then you bought some cooking spices and other necessities. Checking everything you went to the cashier. Paying for everything you went out the store and a cold breeze passed by making you shiver. October was ending and it was getting colder. You pulled your coat closer and loaded your car then drove away to home as you planned on making dinner and having hot chocolate later.

_____________________

2 days later

The sound of luminary playing in the background could be heard as you were cleaning out your closet and filling it with warm clothes. It was one of your favourite soundtracks. It was just so beautiful and gave you lots of ideas.

You remember the earlier phone call. You still couldn't believe it. Dominic Albero read your script and he wanted to have a meeting with you. His assistant called and made you aware about the appointment which is tomorrow night. You're so happy right now. You can't believe your work got recognized by THE director everyone wants to work with. You informed Alan about this and boy was he so enthralled with the situation. He wished you best of luck for tomorrow and you decided you'd celebrate with him if your work gets adapted tomorrow.

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ilovescaredysquirrel2 · 2 months

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Was Qubo actually coming back?

So I heard a rumor that's been going around that The Qubo Channel, an American children's tv channel that ran from 2007-2021, was coming back in 2023 and this idiot fan did everything they could to make it seem real, videos and everything but it all turned out to be fake. They said that the company E Scripps announced it but they never did and this random person made an entire wiki page of it too. Qubo is officially never coming back, although I hope someone will have a solution or come up with a replacement kids channel. It's sad that kids have nothing that genuinely teaches them good lessons, besides Bluey. Don't get me wrong, I love Bluey, Bluey's awesome but it's like the only thing that kids can watch nowadays that's good for them. In my opinion, you need MORE THAN ONE SHOW! You don't have to have as many shows as I did growing up, but you can't only just have one show either.

I'll admit I was more of a tv kid, but I grew up in a small, dumpy town in Pennsylvania and I had no siblings or kids in the neighborhood to play with. I also never really had close friends at school who I got to hang out with outside of school, because school days lasted long and we were private people. When I got home, I'd most likely draw, watch tv, or take a nap. I did spend time outside but not in the autumn and winter as much because I hated cold, especially when I got older. I did watch a lot more tv than most kids did but it wasn't an unhealthy amount. I also wasn't really a Disney movie kid as much either. Disney channel? Yes, but I didn't really watch much of their animated movies growing up, especially not the older ones that everyone else grew up with. I had older parents and also was raised by my grandma, and no siblings so it's not like we had family movies nights like some families. Being an only child, I was basically the boss of the tv and my mom grew up playing outside and not much of a tv kid, so she just let me watch the kids shows that were playing on tv. Just to clear things up, I was born in November of 2002 and my mom gave birth to me when she was 42 years old, so a lot of stuff from her time wasn't really meant for kids. So yeah, I mostly just grew up watching tv channels. I was lucky enough to have Qubo, Sprout and the Nickelodeon and Disney channels. Lucky for me, I didn't watch much Cartoon Network, which in my opinion was kind of a good thing because a lot of stuff back then was inappropriate. Thank God I had more relaxing and... less unhinged shows to watch on channels like Sprout and Qubo. I know Qubo had its fair share of weird shows like Grossology and Being Ian, but most of the Qubo shows were good. In fact, some of my favorite shows ever came from Qubo!

Let's have a little talk about a well known Canadian show that was based off a book series, called "Scaredy Squirrel". If you were in Canada, you probably watched Scaredy Squirrel on YTV or Treehouse, but us Americans watched it on Cartoon Network, Disney X.D or Qubo. I was the kid who watched it on Qubo because I ignored the Cartoon Network channel growing up and I think around 2013 was when I started to hate Disney so... yeah. I became a fan of Scaredy Squirrel through Qubo and that show means so much to me. Another show that means a lot to me is called "Marvin the tap-dancing Horse" which originally aired on PBS kids for like 2 years, as part of a block called the "Bookworm bunch" which only lasted a short time and plus, I wasn't even born yet. I got introduced to Marvin the Tap-Dancing Horse through the Qubo Channel and I absolutely fell in love with it. Honestly, those are both very underrated shows and deserve an actual FANDOM rather than 3 fans. A few people I know have at least heard of Scaredy Squirrel barely anyone has heard of Marvin the dancing horse (and yes, Marvin is based off a book too). I highly recommend those shows, as well as many others!

Cable tv is kind of shutting down now anyway, and it's sad. All we have now is streaming services and a lot of them just don't have those nice kids shows that Qubo had. A lot of those shows were cute and not too overstimulating for the younger kids, and almost everything they have now is for older kids. Sprout became Universal Kids, which is more for older kids and they didn't need to do that. We need more things for little kids too. Also, as a 21 year old with trauma, I don't like rough adult shows like South park and Hazbin hotel, I want more calming shows like Scaredy Squirrel and Toddworld. (Also, I'll put a list of my favorite shows from Qubo in my last paragraph).

I hope one day I can make my own tv channel or streaming service to replace Qubo or Sprout, but nothing can really "replace" my favorite channels growing up. Also, if you want some relaxing kids shows from Qubo to watch, I'll give you some;

Scaredy Squirrel, Toddworld, Stella & Sam, Timothy goes to school, Marvin the Tap-Dancing Horse, Maggie & the Ferocious Beast, Harry & his Bucket of Dinosaurs, Miss Spider Sunny Patch, Babar, Veggietales, Gofrette, I Spy, My Friend Rabbit, Sandra the Fairytale Detective, Willa's Wild Life, Pecola, Turbo Dogs, Sidekick, and Stickin' Around (although there's a trigger warning).

Tell me what you think and if you agree! Are you too a Qubo or Sprout fan?

#qubo channel #qubo shows #qubo #sprout goodnight show #sprout channel #sprout #scaredy squirrel #toddworld #marvin the tap dancing horse #qubochannel #qubo fandom

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froggywritesstuff · 1 year

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red is so your colour | yandere!amber freeman

Pairing: yandere!Amber Freeman x g/n!reader

Warnings: character death, mentions of murdering, blood, knives, stabbing, degradation, non consensual kissing, mentions of sex, implied future kidnapping, unhealthy relationships, swearing, mentions of cheating (please do not read if you are uncomfortable with any of these)

Fandom: Scream

Request: no

A/N: i do not in any way support yandere behaviour, please know that this writing is purely fictional, and should not ever be reenacted in real life

Amber could be very confusing. Now, you loved her more than anything in the world, but you genuinely had no idea how to act when she would randomly accuse you of being unfaithful. Every time she did it (and there were a lot of times) you told her over and over again how much you love her and how you'd never cheat on her, but this time, she went too far.

Recently there had been hundreds of news reports about another 'Ghostface' in the town who was going on a murdering spree. Everyone was on edge. Your friend group made a plan to always tell at least one person whenever one of you would leave to go out on your own, then if you didn't tell someone when you were back home in over half an hour, they'd all go looking for you. It gave everyone some false sense of calmness while more dead bodies were reported. That sense was immediately shattered when Chad's girlfriend Liv was reported dead.

If that didn't make you feel shitty enough, you were now dealing with Amber on your case for some reason.

"Y/N, why won't you just answer the fucking question?!"

You stared at her in disbelief, "I have Amber. And I'll give you the same answer I gave you the last four fucking times; I did not want to sleep with Liv."

"I want you to tell me the truth this time." she pressed, looking at you like she had watched you commit the worst of crimes in front of her, "You always acted different whenever she was around, you've barely been talking to me these last couple of weeks."

You clenched your jaw at her accusations, pulling your phone out of your pocket and pulling up your messages, "I've barely been talking to you? Well what the fuck are all these then?" you gestured to the endless amounts of texts you two had been sending each other. You could scroll for hours and you'd probably only make it to last week's conversations. The thought of that made your heart pang. You loved Amber with all your heart, but the way she was looking at you made you question that statement.

She just rolled her eyes at the messages, "Ok, well can you explain why Liv always looked at you like she wanted to fuck you?"

You stared blankly, not having the energy to show your anger, "No. Because she never did that. But can you explain why our friend is dead and all you're thinking about is whether I was cheating on you?"

Her eyes widened, "Oh, I just thought you had the hots for her but now you were cheating on her? Wow-"

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut tight, "Amber I'm done."

Her face fell, "What?"

"I said I'm fucking done. I'm not going to stand here and listen to you accuse me of this shit."

"You're not breaking up with me." you would've thought she meant that to be a question but her tone sounded certain.

"Yeah, I am." you sighed, turning around and walking for the door. Your heart felt heavy as you reached for the door handle, before a loud scream ripped from your throat. A knife was stabbed all the way through your hand going into the door.

"No. You're not."

Your heart rate sped as you felt Amber's chest against your back, her arm snaking around your waist to hold you tighter to her. Not like she needed to.

Millions of thoughts ran through your mind. You wanted to say everything that came to your mind, but all those thoughts just muddled into one as you slowly breathed out, "Amber?"

"Wow, I was more convincing than I thought. I thought for sure you would've figured out I was Ghostface by now. Guess you're dumber than I thought."

Your breath came out heavy, still trying to process everything, "Why... why did you..." you winced as you heard Amber's sharp voice in your ear.

"What was that?" Ignoring your screams of pain, she ripped the knife out of your hand, grabbed your shoulder to turn you to face her, and stabbed your hand again through the palm of your hand. Her hand gripped your jaw tightly, pulling you against the knife that held your hand in place, "Cat got your tongue? Oh but you were so mouthy before, weren't you?"

"Why did you kill them?" you breathed out, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

Amber smiled, looking at you like you were a pathetic, lost puppy, "Speak up babe. What's the point of your pretty voice if I can't hear it?"

”Wh-why did you kill them?”

Her smile fell, before she laughed, “Wow you really are dumb,” she brushed the pad of her thumb over your quivering lip, “don’t worry, with me you won’t have to worry about being smart.” you felt like your heart would beat right out of your chest. What did she mean ‘with me’? You had no idea what she was capable of, “And I thought this was obvious but apparently not, but I killed everyone for you.”

Your eyes widened, “Wha-what?”

”Well for us, technically. Baby there are so many people who wanna get in the way of us, I couldn’t let that happen. Like that bitch from your English class who wouldn’t get her hands off you,” you remembered her. Specifically Amber asking you about her. By ‘she wouldn’t get her hands off you’ she meant ‘handed you a book once’. “That slut had it coming.”

A tear fell from your eye which she wiped away with her thumb, “Aw, Y/N, why didn’t you tell me how pretty you look when you cry?” she cooed. The tone of her voice was sweet, though her words had the opposite effect on you. With no warning, she ripped the knife from your hand, before slashing it across your stomach, smiling as crimson blood splashed onto her face. A laugh escaped her lips, “I would’ve made you cry way earlier.”

You however, were in no laughing mood. You clutched your stomach in pain, legs so shaky you feared they would buckle down and let you fall to the ground, ”Just- just kill me already.” you cried.

Amber rolled her eyes, “God you’re pathetic. I’m not gonna kill you, dumby. I love you too much for that.” she stared at you, before grabbing your chin and lifting your head slightly, “And you look way too fuckable in this position right now.” she brought her knee up to your crotch area and laughed as you quickly pulled yourself away from her, cupping your cheek with her hand, “Calm down baby, I won’t do that now.”

She moved her hand, before noticing the blood red stain it made on your cheek. She brought the knife up to your face -heart fluttering when you flinched- and smeared the red liquid against your cheek with a wide smile. Pulling you toward her, she smashed her lips against yours, deepening the kiss at the sound of your muffled cries.

“Red is so your colour baby.”

buy me a coffee <3

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mew-ya · 1 year

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katakuri headcanons 🍩 - update (1/9)

- assessing his mother and brothers, where do his teeth come from? my thought is that his father is half fishman, as it's previously been stated that quarter fishmen do not have the ability to breathe underwater or really get much special strength--but I think an unusual mouth could be feasible. perhaps he's quarter pelican eel fishman?! that could explain why his brothers look (relatively) normal, it's just a recessive gene that falls out with the stronger human/whatever Big Mom genes are.

- his massive "house" granted to him by his mother is immaculate, spotless, spartan. this is because he doesn't live in it. he has a true living quarters hidden somewhere on komugi island that holds his some of his less grave secrets (such as his silly little hobbies and his preference of milk alternative). he's a private person so no one really goes there. only brulee knows about it, and maybe a few of his other closest siblings.

- he is 48, so he'd be pretty out of touch with the things his young siblings like. he's a humble guy so I think he'd take their "omg youre OLD" bullying in stride, and they'd love him for it. very popular with the kids AND their parents, future sight is the ultimate babysitter ability. he can stop a toddler with a safe alternative before they even think about climbing up a curtain.

- torn on wanting kids himself. he loves them, maybe he wanted them when he was younger. but his family has a lot already and he's a busy man. will he be able to care for them like he wants? how can he shield them from his mother and what she put him through? what if they are born with his face? will his child be able to live their own life without living in his shadow? it's complicated for him, and he thinks very deeply about it.

- it's pretty hard for him to keep secrets from brulee in general. they have a bit of an unhealthy relationship in that regard...they're both very protective of each other, which can make it difficult to get close to them. kata scares off anyone who looks at brulee the wrong way, shooting them a glare or worse if they dont catch the hint. brulee secretly watches anyone from her mirrors who appears to be paying too much attention to katakuri and confronts them if she suspects they're up to no good. she's a sweet woman deep down, but has learned to be a convincing witch.

- katakuri is a sucker for foods that have sweetness, and it's warped his taste buds a bit. whenever people try his occasional cooking, they're a bit taken back by the presence of sugar on everything. he watches for reactions patiently and most are too afraid to offend him, so they pretend it's good. he's a humble guy, so the typically universal praise doesn't go to his head. his brothers might have a stupid nickname for him like "sweetsteak" but he thinks they're joking.

- as for the types of foods he likes to eat besides donuts: I think he'd like bagels of the sweet variety, such as blueberry or cinnamon raisin. though not everything needs to be donut shaped. I think he'd enjoy pineapple on pizza a lot, monte cristo sandwiches, and fruity, tropical cocktails on the rare occasion he drinks. he'd also like curries that balance sweet and spicy well. doesnt really eat all that much meat but he does enjoy it baked into pastries. also see him as someone who puts an embarrassing amount of sugar cubes in his tea. like my dude. you want tea with those sugar cubes? he just keeps going. he literally does not care what you think of his food preference so no one really comments on it anymore.

- Mr power nap himself. he probably sleeps like shit cus he has to keep up appearances as Mr. Perfection, never lying on his back. but I like to think he gets a rare occasion to sleep a full night on his back and he makes a little ritual out of it. covering the windows, making sure no one can disturb or find him, pulls out his favorite book and reads it in its entirety before hes able to fall asleep the normal way...maybe putting brulee on guard duty. but don't ask me if he wears the matching jammies and hat set. I can't clown on him that hard today

- wears gloves cus he's a serial nail picker. originally thought he would be a nail biter but like...his teeth seem a bit extreme for that? i can't imagine him really putting his fingertips at risk like that, so I think he'd be the type to pick at his nails when nervous. the gloves help with that quite a bit, and have an added bonus of protecting his palms from his heavy work schedule. his hands are pretty soft.

- smells kinda like mochi residue, which is to say he smells like rice flour. he also smells like leather and steel, and perhaps a waft of vanilla or strawberry depending on the pastry crumbs he accidentally dropped in his scarf that day. it's a very floofy scarf and he doesn't really take it off so sometimes he gets a bit of food in it. has to wash it daily, probably has a bunch of backup scarves.

thanks for reading 🫡💓 and double thanks to all of the people who've rambled on and on with me and helped contribute to my headcanons about him, or have posted some of their own that I came across and agreed with! I love this character very very much so i always have a lot of fun thinking about little things like this.

- he has acquired a lot of stupid donut decor over the years, thanks to his closer siblings that know his love of donuts. his secret little house is absolutely littered in it. he doesnt really buy this stuff himself, his taste is a bit more punk rock. one year he did get a pretty cool donut-patterened Tiffany lamp that he has by his couch. but most of the time, an easy Christmas gift for kata: donut socks. Peros gets him a different color every year. he's not really that into it, but he appreciates the thought...

new below added 1-9 (about his height, about traveling)

- he is a very tall person, though not giant sized. thankfully, the one piece world is rather kind to folk big and small. it's not any trouble to find the correct size of most items, especially in tottoland. you'll find a variety of specialty stores catering to folks of small and large sizes, and some areas even have districts concentrated around small and big folk with appropriately portioned cuisines. clothes come in a wide variety of sizes even at the smallest of boutiques. although the clothes of many of the charlotte siblings have a certain flair that scream custom made, kata being no exception...

- his size becomes more difficult when he's traveling abroad, and tends to stick to the ships quarters as a place to rest when outside of his home. he's not one to rent out a place, as it is troubling to find accommodations that suit his many needs (including absolute privacy). he would probably rely on his own mochi abilities to generate shelter before ever agreeing to stay in a stranger's abode. he feels moderately comfortable in his personal ships quarters but his typical form of comfort is most often found on the deck, leaning against the mast with a watchful eye on the horizon.

- his duties as minister and commander, as well as his travels as a child with the Rocks Pirates, have brought him to many places. given that his mochi merienda shrine has wano-style architecture, it is not utterly out of left field to think that he has even visited a secluded place such as Wano in the past. while his job and family is rather isolating, he has still experienced a good number of unfamiliar cultures and cuisines. I think that he has traveled less in the latter half of his life but still holds onto some of those memories and would like to go back to the places he went when he was younger.

I'll probably continually update this with new HCs when I get bored 💕

naturally, please take these all with a grain of salt! it's fine to disagree, these are just how I personally see him.

#charlotte katakuri #one piece #one piece headcanons #mew writes #SFW

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mikasa-imadebiscults · 2 months

Note

Girl I just love your fics and I wanted to see I could ask for one myself

Could you pls write a Mirko x Fem!reader where reader is insecure about her body and turns to sh but Mirko finds out and she comforts S/o and they make out while Mirko praises her and sings a lullaby to her for aftercare

Sorry if it's a lot

Ive been though a rough patch with sh myself and I just wanted to find a way to feel better

I know you might not find this though your inbox

But I figured it's worth a shot

Thanks

(Hello Anon, thank you for your kind words and I really hope this makes you feel better. Just remember, you are not alone in this, me and other people are always here for you. Also don’t worry, this wasn’t too much for me to handle)

More than Perfect

Rumi Usagiyama x FEM! Reader

(Warning: Self harm, swearing, and making out but nothing too spicy)

Insecure. If there’s one word in the world that can describe you, insecure couldn’t be more fitting. Your body being the main victim of your insecurity. Everything about it made you feel bad and often times you looked in the mirror wishing you were in a different body.

Rumi is everything anybody would want in a woman; strong, confident, independent, brave, beautiful, just utterly perfect. Too perfect for you, she deserves so much better, you believe. Those thoughts run constantly through your head, causing your emotions to dampen and dull.

Eventually those thoughts became darker and irrational, making you resort to a more unhealthy, dangerous course of action. Self harm. You do your best to try and cover up the evidence. You can’t run the risk of Rumi finding out, she already has enough to deal with plus you don’t want to burden her or worst, hurt her.

Though life doesn’t always go your way, it never does. Rumi ended up finding out, she was returning from a long day of fighting petty criminals and when she opened the door and called out to you that she’s home she got no response. She assumed that you were in the bedroom taking a nap or something, so she walked to the shared bedroom and opened the door. She didn’t knock because if you were sleeping she didn’t want to wake you.

But what she saw was unexpected. You were sitting on the edge of the bed harming yourself. You froze immediately when you saw your girlfriend standing in the doorway just as shocked as you are.

You opened your mouth to speak but couldn’t find the right words to articulate together. Your vision became blurred as tears formed over your eyes. Suddenly you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around you tightly but cautious not to accidentally hurt you.

Rumi knows that you must’ve suffered mentally for a while for you to go to this as a coping mechanism. She didn’t blame you one bit, the only person she blames right now is herself for not noticing or figuring it out sooner. But that doesn’t matter, what matters most right now is treating your wounds and comforting you.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain anything to me. Sit down while a treat your wounds okay?” Rumi says assuringly, pulling away to go get the supplies needed. Fortunately she wasn’t gone for long and started carefully treating you, making sure it hurts as little as possible.

The amount of guilt you feel is unbearable, you feel like a bother. Though your thoughts are easily interrupted by two hands cupping your cheeks and a pair of red eyes staring softly into yours. It’s almost like she knew exactly what you were thinking.

“I’m all done, now if you want to talk about it I’m all ears, but if you don’t then that’s alright too.” Rumi said, sitting next to you on the bed.

You hesitate for a moment before letting the words spill from your lips, “I’ve been..insecure about how I look and stuff..and I..just couldn’t take it anymore.” You confessed as you feel Rumi’s hands rub up and down your back for a moment before motioning you to sit on her lap. Usually she would just lift you up herself but right now she doesn’t wanna overwhelm you.

Straddling her lap, she wraps her arms around your waist protectively, you kiss her lips in which Rumi gladly reciprocates. But you wanted a bit more, trying to deepen the kiss you were left feeling disappointed when you lost contact with her lips.

“Are you sure about this?” Rumi asks, searching for any signs of discomfort.

“Yes I am..but I don’t wanna do too much, y’know.” You say and Rumi nods in acknowledgment. She is sure to not overstep a boundary and you trust her on that.

She gently puts one hand on the back of your head to pull you closer and kiss you. She lets you be the one to deepen the kiss, which is unlike her but she doesn’t mind at the moment. A minute goes by and you pull away for some air.

And Rumi took this opportunity to say something she thinks she should say more often.

“Your body is so damn beautiful, hell, even more than that. I am the luckiest woman in the universe to have a girlfriend like you. And don’t you forget that.” Rumi says in a matter of fact tone, accepting no denial to that statement.

You look into her eyes and see no sign of deception or untruthfulness instead you see nothing but confidence and sincerity. You embrace her tightly, grateful for her existence. She smiles softly at this and hugs you even tighter.

The both of you sit in blissful silence until you hear your girlfriend’s voice, but it wasn’t her talking, it was singing. She had a peaceful singing voice, like music to your ears. You’ve never heard her sing before so it surprised you but the shock didn’t last for long before sleep consumed you.

Masterlist

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leggerefiore · 6 months

Note

Hey Fi, do you remember that one ficlet you wrote forever ago where reader nearly got kidnapped by Yan! Submas from an alternate universe, then saved by OG Submas?

Would you consider doing one for Cyrus, or if Yandere is too OOC for Cyrus, maybe OG vs. Rainbow Rocket? A third option, if you have some ideas for who Cyrus could've been without, or at least with less, abuse would be Cyrus vs. a healthier Cyrus.

High Five Anon

cw: yandere, unhealthy relationships, happy ending(?), cyrus being a bit ooc since one is yandere but too much

pairing: Cyrus/Reader (x2)

Spirit Of Corruption

The breath in your lungs was knocked out by the way the Renegade pokemon seemingly slashed through reality itself. A tear within space and time, to which Cyrus could only stare in pure, silent terror as it consumed you before his eyes. He had been working with the legendary to investigate possible other options for his perfect world. Unfortunately, his research seemed to take a bad turn. You tried to reach out for his hand as he rushed towards you, desperate to bring you back to reality.

The pure fear of losing someone he loved again burned harshly in his eyes. He misses you by only a few millimetres, and you hear him shout your name. His monotone is broken with worry and desperation. Your heart aches at the pain that simply pours from him.

It is the last thing you see as your vision is obscured by a sudden brightness that bleeds into an endless darkness.

Around you, there is simply nothing.

A void.

Then, there is everything.

You fall from the sky and land on a stone ground. Dull pain sprouts out from your bottom as it took a majority of the fall. Desperate breaths are sucked in as you gaze around the area. Instantly, you recognise it.

Spear Pillar.

The peak of Mt. Coronet.

Shakily, you stand. Had you just been kicked out of the Distortion World? Your terror faded as you took in the sights from the peak of the mountain. You were safe, well, and in a familiar location. It was peculiar, everything that had come before, but you supposed it was just like that crossing in the portal that broke space and time. You lean against a pillar in your relief.

However, a voice calls out your name from behind. Turning around, you see Mars. She shakes oddly, eyes wide and mouth agape. Hurried steps are rushed towards you as she grabs your arms. Her grip is tight as she looks you over in bewilderment. You tilted your head. Cyrus's “team” was not something you were deeply familiar with, but you had come to know his commanders somewhat after he had refused to leave the Distortion World.

“Where… Where have you been?” she asked with wide eyes, “He's been looking all over for you! He was convinced you had died!” Her words felt confusing and nonsensical. Who was looking for you? The context of assuming death made you think of Cyrus, but she seemed far too frantic.

“… I was just in the Distortion World,” you cocked a brow up, “Cyrus was there doing experiments, and I joined him.” Her face twisted in a strange way. For a long moment, she was silent as she seemed to try to observe you much too closely for comfort. Whatever had spurred her suspicion was apparently pushed to the side, however.

“Mhm…” she nodded, “Something happened, then, right? He's back at HQ, worried about you. C'mon!” The redhead pulled at your arm with an alarming amount of strength. Was something wrong? Perhaps you had travelled slightly forward in time… That seemed like the only reasonable explanation for everything. You sighed and let her pull you down the winding mountain's caves and towards the quickest transport to Veilstone. The trip into the Galactic building was met with a few stares from members and even an expression of shock.

She knocked on the door to Cyrus's office as she nervously gazed around the dead-end hallway before straightening her posture. The doors clicked open to reveal Cyrus sitting at his desk, eyes not moving away from his computer. He seemed his usual self, despite the obvious upset he had been in when you were dragged into the portal. Relief flooded your system.

“What is it?” his voice was harsh, and it was clear he did not want to be bothered. Mars stepped into the room and glanced back at you. She wanted you to follow her in. You did as she wanted.

“Um, Master Cyrus,” the commander greeted him politely, “I found your... er, partner.” She looked to you for confirmation. You just blinked a few times. Cyrus visibly tensed before breaking his gaze to look at her. His eyes landed on you first, however. Something in his eyes felt strange as his expression nearly broke his usual stone-face.

“… I see,” the Galactic Boss nodded, hiding whatever it was he wished to say to you away, “I will provide an adequate reward for this. You are dismissed.” He stood up and fell into his usual pose with his arms behind his back. She gave a slight nod and awkward grin before heading back out of the office. The doors closed behind her.

Was everyone normally this awkward? You swore she seemed to be all over him normally. Mars seemed afraid to even meet his eyes. Before you could question anything, Cyrus had made his way over to you. His eyes peered at you in a scrutinising manner, almost as if he were trying to verify it was actually you. The strange behaviour was somewhat reasonable, you supposed. What just happened would naturally bring out worries.

His hand came to cup your cheek. He swallowed and closed his eyes. “Beloved…” The familiar term of endearment warmed your heart. You leaned into his touch and brought a hand to rest on his. “I thought I had lost you forever,” Cyrus whispered. You could only smile. Yeah, you thought you were, too. Here you were, though. Safe and unharmed and back where you belonged.

“It was a bit scary,” you admitted, “I thought I was going to die, but I ended up back with you in the end.” His eyes met yours. Something odd spiralled in them. He removed his hand to instead pull you close to him. When was the last time Cyrus had been this clingy? You leaned into him once again.

“Let us go home,” the blue-haired man spoke, “I… I wish to go to a more comforting environment.”

You could only agree, feeling disgruntled by the feelings the headquarters brought you.

You watched as he slid the key card to your apartment in the slider. A beep followed, and the sound of the lock pulled back. Cyrus opened the door for you. Strange, you thought. Normally, he would just walk in. Maybe he was feeling an urge to be extra careful after everything that had happened. You stepped inside, greeted by your apartment. Looking around, you felt it was strangely off. Not in a way that was easily described in words, but something that you simply perceived and understood.

You gazed out the veranda doors after pulling back the blinds to see the evening sun enveloping Veilstone beautifully. Slipping your hand in the door's groove, you found it unmovable. Cyrus's hand came to grasp your shoulder. It was tight and heavy. Turning your head, you met his gaze. Something was still so wrong. Your stomach churned as you considered the situation.

“… How did you escape?” his voice is empty and demanding. You froze. What? What could he possibly mean? Escape? From the portal? Your silence upset him as he spun you around. His hand moved to instead hold your chin and make you meet his eyes. You swallowed.

“From… the portal?” you answered with a question, “Cyrus, it just spit me out at Spear Pillar.” His eyelids narrowed, and his grip became tighter. Pulling you closer, he frowned truly.

“From this apartment,” Cyrus clarified, “Do you know how many locks I have had installed? I had to change them all.” You froze. Despite obviously seeing your distress, he continued, “I am happy that you realised the foolishness in your actions and opted to return, but I must know how you escaped in the first place.” You felt as if the gravity in the room became ten times as strong. An uneven breath escaped you.

“… I… don't know what you are talking about,” you shook your head, “Are you feeling well? This isn't like you at all, Cy!” Escaping his hold, you grab onto his shoulders and frantically look at him. He cocks a brow up at you. Silence overtakes the room. His eyes then close.

“… I could ask the same of you,” the Galactic Boss mumbles out. He removes your hands from his shoulders. Holding them, his grip is strong. It seemed he understood there was something that neither of you had understood about each other. Before more could be said, his phone went off. A sigh came from him as he checked the message. Whatever it said made him stiffen. “I will return,” Cyrus shot a stern look at you, “We will continue this conversation when I get back.”

He then marched right out the door, locking it behind him. You felt ill staring at the weird code system on the inside of the door alongside another card reader. The locks clicked shut, and you realised that you were trapped within the apartment. Trying the door knob was fruitless as panic overtook your mind. Cyrus would never do this. Not your Cyrus. He was too caring and gentle. Nothing like whatever this was.

Everything felt hopeless as you rushed around the apartment, trying every last possible way to escape. The veranda door was truly unable to open, while most windows had a lock or were simply not the kind that opened. Terror blossomed in your chest as you sat on the couch with your head buried in your hands. What was this? You felt as if the only answer that made sense was this being an alternate world. Cyrus had spoken about the possibility but seemed uninterested unless it was one that lacked spirit. You felt this one had too much if this Cyrus's behaviour was anything to go by.

The alternative you of this world had seemingly escaped this apartment and fled from him. Lucky them. You had unwittingly replaced them. Would he keep you when he realised you were not truly the same you that had escaped? The thought was terrifying. Somehow, you felt that he would find you a worthy replacement. Your Cyrus would probably never find you and assume you were dead.

The dread nearly consumed your heart as you sat there in the eerily silent apartment.

Then, your phone went off.

It startled you as it broke the lack of sound and filled it with your loud ringtone.

You pulled it out in shock and stared at it in bewilderment. A call was coming through. The caller's ID left you floored.

Answering it, you pressed it to your ear.

“Where are you?” the voice of your boyfriend came through, “I used Giratina to enter the portal.”

Your heart fluttered in pitiful relief.

“Our apartment,” then you rethought your words, “Er – our apartment in this world.”

“… Interesting,” his tone changed subtly, “Then, I presume you have met a version of me in this world.” You could tell he was wondering how you understood his words so easily then.

“Please. Hurry, I don't think there is really a good time to explain this,” you worked to placate him instead, “He's strange. Stranger than you. I was locked in our apartment by him.”

“I see,” he sounded like he was attempting to hide his thoughts, “I will then. Please do not do anything to provoke him, then.” With that, the call was ended, and you were left in silence again.

Hopefully, Cyrus would get you out, and you both could return to your world in peace.

A hand firmly shaking your shoulder broke you from the small slumber you had fallen into at some point, having curled up on the couch while unsure of what to do while waiting. Rubbing your eyes, you saw Cyrus looking down at you. He pulled you to your feet and looked you over. Your tired mind lagged for a moment before he let out a sigh of relief.

“The door had countless electronic locks on it,” Cyrus looked exhausted, “I found a way to disable most, but the few I had to brute force raised my concern about it attracting the version of myself in this world.” You stiffened. He sighed and shook his head. “How odd. I never felt a need for such things,” he commented, “What are his intentions… I feel as if I should understand it, but I do not.” You really did not, either. When you tried to consider Cyrus's actions, none of them involved locking you in your apartment.

“… I don't know either,” you agreed with him, “I want to leave, though. Let's go back to our home, please.” You grabbed tightly onto his arm. His eyes shifted to something oddly soft. A nod was his only reply before he shrugged off your grip. The two of you soon departed from the odd parallel of your shared apartment and out onto Veilstone's streets. With a recalled knowledge, Cyrus easily navigated through them to head to the nearest station to get out of the city. Opening a portal would draw too much attention and onlookers there, after all.

But, as you both approached the location, familiar uniformed people stood out among the people going in and out of it. The Galactic Leader let out a breath. A few confused Galactic grunts wandered over to Cyrus and stared at him. Their eyes moved from between you and the man as they seemingly tried to understand something you both did not know. It was easy enough to find out, however.

“Master Cyrus… Didn't you order us to look for your partner…?” a female grunt finally offered up what was bothering them. Cyrus shot a harsh look at them and nearly made them recoil. You wondered if he felt the urge to actually express his upset towards whatever his alternate self was doing.

“Perhaps I did,” he agreed, “However, is it not obvious that the situation has changed if I, myself, are with them? Tell your other members to end their search at once and return to HQ.” Her eyes went big at the order given to her by her believed boss. A 'yes sir!' came from her as she quickly began to spread it between her and the many other grunts. It would unfortunately feed more information to the other Cyrus, but for now, you two simply focused on getting on the train.

He held his head in obvious frustration as you both took your seats. You had sat near the window, trying to hide yourself as best you could. Neither of you wanted to deal with another situation, after all. Leaning your head on Cyrus's shoulder, you let out a shaky breath. Thankfully, the grunts were too blinded by their dedication to him to truly question his sudden changes.

“… He's using Team Galactic to search for you,” Cyrus mumbled to himself, “How odd.”

Odd, indeed. Your Cyrus barely told you much about Team Galactic outside of treating it as a normal company. He had not wanted to know of his plans, as he was fully aware that you would attempt to stop him. You never really even met any members outside when you tried to surprise him at work. Of course, the receptionist refused to let you up to his office.

“I bet you used Team Galactic to find me earlier,” you joked and tried to lighten the heavy mood. It would all be over soon. You would go back home to your normal apartment with your boyfriend and probably demand he actually cuddle with you after everything. Maybe food would be ordered.

“… I used our technology, certainly” he sighed, “I do not trust my grunts to cross dimensions.”

You held back a laugh.

Night had now settled in the world as the twinkling stars above lit the void of space that hung in the sky. The moon glimmered ominously, reflecting the light from the ever shining sun. The dewy grass was cold against any exposed skin. The Galactic Boss readied himself to send out the Renegade pokemon. Your heart pounded. The area was completely absent of other people. It was time to return home.

Before he could release Giratina, however, a loud cawing broke the silence of the night. Above you both, a Honchkrow flew around, belting its lungs out. His head flung up as his eyes went wide. You screamed as your body crashed to the ground. Sharp claws threatened your skin as the red eyes of a Weavile stared at you. It was more than apparent what was going on. Cyrus sent out his Houndoom without any hesitation and ordered a flamethrower. The Weavile acted quick, however, and jumped off from you.

Cyrus's eyes were fixed upon a location as you got yourself back onto your feet. You followed to where his harsh look was directed and felt your blood run cold. It was more than apparent from everything else who it was. The other Cyrus stood there with the Weavile and Honchkrow at his sides. His gaze felt constricting as he took a step forward. You rushed back to your Cyrus.

“… Quite intriguing,” the other Cyrus replied, stopping as you hid behind your own, “I would ask where you found such a dedicated impersonator, but I can grasp it all now.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “A portal…” he mumbled out, “Of course, you were from another world. You acted nothing like they had.” His Weavile suddenly attempted an Ice Punch on Houndoom. It was dodged narrowly by the dark-type. Cyrus instantly called for another Flamethrower. It was a distraction as the other Cyrus moved closer, gaze solely upon you. “I will accept you, nonetheless,” he spoke to you alone, “I will not allow anyone else to take you, not even another version of myself.”

You flinched as he suddenly rushed towards you to grasp you. Your reaction time was slow as he caught your wrist. He pulled you to his body. His hold was tight and suffocating. You struggled against him. Whatever attempt at pokemon battle was going on was forgotten as your Cyrus instead rushed over. The rage on his face was something almost foreign to you as he forced the other man's hold off from you.

As you fell back from the surprising force Cyrus had used, you grabbed a certain pokeball from his waist. The two seemingly identical men stared intensely at each other, with no words said. However, from the slight grimace on the other Cyrus's face, you could tell that your Cyrus's grip on his worst was something painful. His eyes looked nearly blank as he knocked the other man to the ground.

Turning away from whatever they were beginning to do, you sent out the pokemon from its ball. Giratina's shrill cry echoed in the bight as its glowing eyes shined. An order to open a portal back to your world was shouted, and it instantly obeyed. A tear in space and time was clear as day as he finally moved to look back at the two men. Your Cyrus remained on top of the other one. His Houndoom tried to pull him back as he pressed the alternate version of himself into the grass and dirt below.

“How disgusting,” he hissed at him as he still tried to turn his gaze to you, “An obvious effect of the incompleteness of spirit.” Before whatever conversation of the century could unfold between the two men, you aided Houndoom in pulling him back. His head turned around to the portal as he was relieved. You ran towards it while he called back Houndoom to join you. Jumping in, you could hear an angry yell follow.

Whatever happened was unknown as you landed on a rocky floor. Behind you, the portal swirled for a few moments before Cyrus stepped out, with Giratina following him. You handed him the legendary's pokeball as the portal slowly came to a close, leaving you both in the silence of the cave. Turnback cave again… You let out a shaky breath and collapsed to your knees.

What was all that? You felt insane for a moment.

Cyrus laid a firm hand on the middle of your shoulders. You looked up at him. He had not seemed himself in those final moments, either. Blathering his usual nonsense about spirit, sure, but… You let out a shaky breath. He had never been violent before. It just seemed foreign to his nature.

Standing up, you embraced him tightly, burying your face into his nape. His arms came around you slowly, understanding you needed comfort over anything else for now.

“Cy,” you finally spoke after a few moments, “Take off tomorrow.”

“… I will,” Cyrus agreed, “I am deeply sorry you had to experience all that.”

“Just… don't install any new locks, please.”

“I will not,” he shook his head, “I would never allow spirit to corrupt me in such ways.”

Corrupt… spirit…

You could only silence whatever ramble may overcome him with a kiss.

#pokemon x reader #yandere pokemon x reader #cyrus x reader #yandere cyrus x reader #cyrus/reader #yandere x reader #pokemon cyrus x reader

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guess-my-next-obsession · 2 years

Text

love in the time of covid: chapter one

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

chapter rating: M (alternating POV, mentions of past relationships, age gap <10 years, mentions of past substance abuse, frankie being sickeningly cute w reader)

word count: 3.1k

series masterlist

“Any luck with that delivery girl?” Santi asked while on Facetime with Frankie.

“It’s only been a week,” Frankie reminded, embarrassed by the amount of take-out boxes littering his coffee table.

“Be honest—how much have you spent so far?” Santi asked with a chuckle, Frankie giving him a guilty look before switching the camera around to show him the impressive collection of trash. “Jesus!”

“I know,” he sighed and flipped the camera back around, wiping over his face with his palm. “I feel like this isn’t normal. This is like…incredibly unhealthy, right?”

“Well,” Santi shrugged and let out a chuckle. “In terms of what we’re used to dealing with from you, this is relatively normal.”

“Fair,” he chuckled and let out a congested cough, the one huff of air turning into a series of wheezing.

“You alright there, pal?”

“Yeah, just slowly accepting death.” Frankie reached for his sports drink, taking a sip to ease his throat before speaking again. “Hey, how’d everything go with the move? Is your hyna settled in?”

“Aye pues,” he chuckled and Frankie grinned at his friends blush.

“What? She’s not your girlfriend?” He asked while taking another sip.

“Taking it slow. Whatever that means.”

“I think it means she wants to take it slow.”

“Yes, let me listen to Frankie Morales about relationship advice.” He chided sarcastically, earning a wheezed laugh from his friend.

“Yeah, I do have a winning track record, don’t you know?” Frankie smiled at his own sarcasm, knowing just how unlucky in love he was. The only good thing to come from it was his little girl—who he wouldn’t be able to see again for seven more days at least.

“You talk to Viviana?” Frankie scoffed at the mention of his ex, the two of them having only spoken for Alondra’s sake since the split.

“Told her I had Covid and that I’d have to skip weekends with Alondra the next week. She wasn’t happy about that because her and her new man were supposed to be going to Miami this weekend.” Santi scoffed.

“Have you met this guy?”

“No.” Frankie was trying to hide his irritation at his ex’s sudden romance—the one that overlapped with their own.

“You think she brings him around Alondra?”

He didn’t want to think about that. Another man replacing him in the relationship? Fine. Another man acting like Alondra’s father? Hell no.

“His kid goes to the same daycare as Alondra, but I really hope she’s not bringing him around the house. That was one of the only things I asked her for. I’m all for her going off and finding her happiness and shit, but I don’t want her roping Alondra into it, you know?” Santi nodded and opened his mouth to speak but Frankie’s doorbell ringing cut him off. “Oh, wait. That’s my delivery.”

“Unbelievable,” he chuckled from his spot on Frankie’s couch, the phone left face down on the cushion while Frankie slipped on his mask and walked over to the door.

His heart fell to his feet at the sight of her waiting patiently on the other side of the door with a white plastic bag reading, “Thank You🙂” in hand. He practically whipped the door open, his eyes crinkling from the wideness of his grin as he greeted her.

•••

“Hey,” he smiled at you, shocking you with his good memory when he spoke your name.

“Frankie Morales, apartment 507. How’s Covid been treating you?” You greeted him with a smile hidden beneath your mask, excited to see him again after a week of fantasizing.

You weren’t sure what it was. He was just a guy in an apartment—you interacted with at least fifteen of them a day with this job. He shouldn’t have been anything special, anything that would make you fantasize like this. Except…he was.

Maybe it was his messy head of brown curls that lay over his forehead, begging to be pushed back and combed through with your fingers. It could’ve been those equally brown eyes that pulled you in, your heart sinking into them like a vat of warm molasses. Or perhaps it had nothing to do with his dreamy features at all, and maybe it had everything to do with the way he spoke to you like an actual human rather than a servant—the kindness he showed you all too rare in this industry.

Whatever it was, you were hooked. And seeing him now only proved that it wasn’t going away anytime soon. Maybe this time you’d find enough courage to ask for his phone number.

“Covid is as miserable as they say it is. Hopefully this takes a little bit off my karma,” he joked, a soft chuckle finding its way from your chest to your lips.

Oh, how you wanted to see his smile, the crinkles around his eyes the only tell that he was enjoying this as much as you were.

“At least you seem to have a healthy appetite,” you gestured behind him at the coffee table, a sigh of embarrassment leaving his lips as he turned back to look at it.

“Sorry, if I would’ve known it would be you delivering my food rather than Jeremy H., I would’ve cleaned up.” You laughed again—right until his eyes met yours again. Then, you were too flustered to do anything but blush. “Have you been doing okay?”

“Yeah, thank you for asking. No one really asks me that.” You chuckled, shocked by this strangers kindness. “Uh, yeah. Been trying to find a real job, but grad school’s taking up most of my time these days.”

“Grad school, huh?” He crossed his arms, seemingly getting comfortable for the conversation.

“Yeah, aerospace engineering.” You shrugged nonchalantly, his eyebrows raising in response. “I know, I know. A nerd.”

“No, I think it’s funny. I’m a pilot, actually. Well, was—working on getting my license back.” You wanted to ask more about that, but judging by the way the crinkles in his eyes went away, you could tell the topic was enough to rid him of his smile.

“So…Frankie Morales, apartment 507, has an impressive hankering for el pastor, knows how to fly planes. Super uninteresting.” You teased sarcastically, bringing his smile back.

“And you,” he repeated your first name. “Deliverer of el pastor and aspiring aerospace engineer. Also super uninteresting.” He shot you a wink, your eyes lowering to the ground as you fought away your blush. “This might…might ruin this fun thing we’ve got going on where I order too many tacos and you bring me them—which I love, by the way—but, uh…c-could I possibly get your phone number?”

“Yes!” You eagerly replied, his head tilting in amused surprise. “Sorry, that was way too eager.”

“Eager doesn’t bother me.” Your eyes locked for a moment, a chuckle leaving both of your lips at the tension you felt between you.

“Anyways,” you handed him his food before pulling out your phone, asking for his number and then texting it so that he could save it later on. “Well, enjoy those tacos for me. I should go grab some myself.”

“Oh, do you just want to take these? I—if I’m being completely honest, I’m sort of sick of them.” He chuckled nervously as he handed you the bag, your lips parted in shock at his gesture.

“W-why order them, then?” You hesitantly accepted the bag after he insisted.

“Well, I—I guess I was hoping to see you again. But haven’t had much luck, as you can see from the amount of trash littering my house.” He chuckled and tucked his hands in the pockets of his jeans, shrugging. “But your fellow Dasher Jeremy H. and I have become great friends.”

“Can’t believe I’ve got food delivery competition. Have you been giving him five stars, too?” You asked playfully, Frankie’s head shaking and his hand resting over his heart.

“Nope, I swear those are only for you.”

Jesus, this guy.

“Well, good. Jeremy H. isn’t nearly as cute or good at conversations as me.” He laughed and nodded.

“No, he isn’t.” There he went again, making your stomach flutter. “Well, I don’t want to keep you from stealing any orders from Jeremy H.. But, uh, maybe we can Facetime later? And you can give me your opinions on the food?”

“Yeah, I’d really like that, Frankie.” He looked away shyly and nodded before sucking in a breath.

“Alright, well…I should get back to my Facetime call with my friend. He’s probably going to thoroughly embarrass me in front of you if I don’t hurry up—“

“He sleeps with socks on!” You chuckled at the sound of his friend’s voice coming from his phone, Frankie sighing and pointing backwards.

“Yep. Just like that.”

“Well, you don’t mind eagerness and I don’t mind sock-sleeping. Perfect match.” He smiled at you again, or at least that’s what it looked like. “Have fun getting better. And don’t let him pick on you too much for your sleeping habits.”

“I’ll try not to,” he chuckled as you walked down the staircase to the ground floor of his complex, taking your mask off and shooting him an uncovered smile over your shoulder, shocked to see him doing the same. With a bitten lip, you hopped in your car and tried not to daydream about him too much. Though, you knew yourself well enough to ever think that would be possible.

•••

Frankie was in the middle of watching Once Upon A Time In Hollywood, wrapped up in a blanket to try and soothe the chills and muscle aches that had just set in when she Facetimed him. Blowing his nose, he tried to make himself look half-presentable before answering the call, grinning when he saw her smiling face.

“Am I interrupting anything?” She asked with a sweet voice, a voice that he could imagine stirring him awake in the mornings and soothing him to sleep at night.

“Just watching a movie and trying not to think about being sick,” he joked, earning a light chuckle. “How are you? Was the rest of your day pretty easy?”

“Well, after leaving your place, I ate the tacos—great, by the way.” He nodded and gave her a look of pride. “But then I had a customer throw her smoothie on me because it was runnier than usual.”

“Plot twist, she was only ordering in hopes of seeing Jeremy H.,” she giggled at that, his chest swelling with pride at the sound he was able to draw from her. “I’m sorry that people suck.”

“It’s okay,” she shrugged but he shook his head.

“No, it isn’t.” He watched her give him a tender look, his palm itching to splay out on her cheek.

“You’re right. It isn’t.” She breathed out something along the lines of a laugh, her eyes looking away from the screen for a moment. “So…I’m trying to figure out why someone like you is still single. Coming up short.”

Frankie let out a small laugh as he tried to think of a way to word his past without scaring her off immediately. He had plenty of skeletons in his closet, and if they all fell out at once, no one in their right mind would be able to handle it.

“Well,” he chuckled, eyes flickering to his lap. “Guess I don’t really have a good knack for finding things that are good for me. Or if they’re good, they never seem to stay that way.”

“I get that,” she spoke softly, as though she was trying to earn the trust of a skiddish animal. Perhaps she was.

“I, uh, was engaged a month and a half-ish ago. But, truthfully it hadn’t been a real relationship for almost two years.” He watched her reactions carefully, ready to stop sharing at any point if she appeared to get uncomfortable with the subject, but he was only met with an understanding nod and a softened look. “I have a kid—a baby. She’s nine months old. Anyways, she was a surprise, but we stayed together for her sake. But that ended for the best. Haven’t really thought about getting back out there until…”

“Until you met the world’s most competent DoorDash driver.” He chuckled and nodded, delightfully surprised at how well she was handling his past. “Well, I’m very proud of you for not settling. For choosing yourself. I’m sure your baby girl will be very thankful it happened early on rather than later down the road.”

“Yeah,” he smiled softly, feeling cozy and not at all from the blanket wrapped around him. It was her. Her voice, her humor, the way she strung a sentence together. “What about you? Why hasn’t the world’s most competent DoorDash driver been taken off the market yet?”

“The market is horseshit,” she chided with a dry tone, earning a laugh from him. “I don’t know. Men are so…not it.”

Another laugh. She was good at that.

“Yeah, we’re not great.”

“Nope,” she giggled and he felt his heart race. “Besides, I find it really hard to click with guys. Like, I’m not an idiot, you know? I’m not gonna pretend to be ditzy and cute to make them feel superior, and that usually is the nail in the coffin for my dates.”

“I like how smart you are. I feel like I can have a conversation with you—a mutually interested conversation, you know?” She faked a yawn and he let out a gasped laugh of shock, her giggles filling the room. “You know what? I take it back.”

“Ya know, I really like talking to you, Frankie.” Her confession quieted his laughter, his eyes softening as he looked into hers through the screen. “It feels easy.”

“It does,” he agreed with a smile. “I like how much you make me laugh.”

“I like making you laugh.”

God, his heart was already pounding on the inside of his chest, demanding to be set free so that it could go to its rightful home—the palm of her hands.

“Hey, when I’m Covid free next week, would you maybe want to go on a socially distanced date? We can go to the park, wear our masks. Try to have a normal-ish time in this very not normal world?” She bit her lip, her grin bringing the slightest of dimples in her cheeks as she nodded.

“I’d really like that.” He let out an exhale of relief, for the first time in a long time feeling excited about the future. “But until then, promise me we’ll keep having these Facetimes. I…really like talking to you. I feel like there’s so much I could pick your brain about.”

“Same here.” The pair found themselves staring at each other for a few seconds in comfortable silence, this new and budding friendship making them both feel giddy in a way they hadn’t been used to. “Starting with…what on earth made you want to be an aerospace engineer?”

“Well,” she chuckled and looked mildly embarrassed. “It’s gonna sound silly, but I watched Iron Man when it came out—I think I was like…14? Anyways, I just thought engineering was so cool, but I didn’t want to do the normal shit. And I’ve always had an affinity for space, so…it all just clicked.”

“You’re so cool.” He couldn’t help but to tell her that. He really did find her so interesting and…cool. Whatever that word meant, she was it. “So you’re wanting to go into NASA or something like that?”

“Hopefully! I interned at a Boeing factory last summer and decided that it was too…I don’t know. Too corporate for me. But the year before that, I volunteered at a STEM Camp for high schoolers and one of the guest speakers was from NASA, and it felt like a better fit. But I’ve got to finish my grad degree first before I can even think of applying to one of their programs.” He could listen to her talk about this all day long, her passion for her career matching his own. “What about you? Have you always wanted to be a pilot?”

“Pretty much,” he smiled at her ability to bring him back into the conversation. “I grew up in a Latino household and we never really had a ton of money to go on planes and all that, but I remember my first plane ride was when I was ten. I just got such a high being in the air. Sat by the window and pretended that it was me flying the thing, and ever since then I’ve been hooked.”

“You mentioned getting your license back?” She asked, and he could sense her hesitation in bringing it up.

“Yeah, I, uh…got into a little bit of trouble about a year ago.” He scratched the scruffy beard on his chin, debating on whether or not to tell her the whole story.

“Frankie, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but I just want to tell you that I’m a very understanding person. I’m not easily scared off by skeletons and ghosts from the past. I care more about the you that’s in front of me presently—and he seems pretty great.” He bit his lip to try and hide the smitten grin trying to grow on his face—one that would give away just how into her he really was.

“Well,” he took a deep breath, putting all of his pride aside in the name of honesty. “I’ve struggled with addiction, and I got drug tested…so, bye-bye license. But, uh, I’ve been sober since then. Since the baby arrived, I just…I don’t see it being an issue anymore. When it was just me, it was easy to be destructive like that, but…not anymore. I don’t want her to grow up without a dad, or worse, with a dad who’s a deadbeat.”

“Thank you for trusting me with that,” she gave him a gentle smile, one that assured him his admission hadn’t shaken her. “And I’m very proud of you for choosing sobriety. I come from a long line of addicts, so…I know exactly how difficult it is to beat.”

“You’re sickeningly likable, do you know that? Like…nauseating, really.” She laughed and flipped her hair over her shoulder, making him chuckle. “I’m glad we met.”

“I’m glad we met too.”

He needed to sleep, he could feel it in his aching bones and dry eyes, but god, did he wish he could force himself to stay awake just to hear her go on about anything. But, the sleep was beating his heart’s desire, a yawn slipping from his lips.

“You should get some rest, Mr. Covid.” He smiled and nodded, his eyes studying her pretty face for a little bit longer. “Feel free to call me or text me in the morning, okay?”

“I will,” he nodded and took a deep breath. “Thank you for…being you.”

“What a sap,” she teased. “Thank you for being so open with me. You’re a breath of fresh air, Frankie Morales, apartment 507.”

“Goodnight, querida.”

“Goodnight, handsome.”

•••

taglist: @joelmillerscoffee @ajeff855 @wildemaven @axshadows @sherala007 @browneyes-issac @tooflef @mariasabana @tae27 @kimm4710 @stxrrylunatic @sara-alonso @paulalikestuff @jbh-castaway @oceandolores @mandomover @chxpsi @auberosier @mashomasho @vanemando15 @wickedmunson @marvel-sw-lover @jediknight122 @harriedandharassed @star-wars-fan-2005 @alwaysdjarin @jalobro @trickstersp8 @mccn-bcys @manuymesut @trinkets01 @tanzthompson @jlmaddinson @hopeamarsu @fanofverymanythings @lovesbiggerthanpride @pinkything @fireproofmarta @spettrocoli (please let me know if you’d like to be removed/added to future frankie content!)

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #frankie morales smut #littoc

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