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gootarts · 9 months

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as of 8/3, the most recently updated version of this post is here (it's a reblog of this exact post with more info added)

as a lot of you know, limbus company recently fired its CG illustrator for being a feminist, at 11 pm, via phone call, after a bunch of misogynists walked into the office earlier that day and demanded she be fired. on top of this, as per korean fans, her firing went against labor laws---in korea, you must have your dismissal in writing.

the korean fandom on twitter is, understandably, going scorched earth on project moon due to this. there's a lot currently going on to protest the decision, so i'm posting a list here of what's going on for those who want to limit their time on elon musk's $44 billion midlife crisis impulse purchase website (if you are on twitter, domuk is a good person to follow, as they translate important updates to english). a lot of the links are in korean, but generally they play nicely with machine translators. this should be current as of 8/2.

Statements condemning the decision have been issued by The Gyeonggi Youth Union and IT Union.

A press conference at the Gyeonggido Assembly will occur on 8/3, with lawmakers of the Gyeonggi province (where Project Moon is based) in attendance. This appears driven by the leader of the Gyeonggi Youth Union.

The vice chairman of the IT union--who has a good amount of experience with labor negotiations like these--has expressed strong support for the artist and is working to get media coverage due to the ongoing feminist witch hunts in the gaming industry. Project Moon isn't union to my knowledge, but he's noted that he's taken on nonunion companies such as Netmarble (largest mobile game dev in South Korea) by getting the issue in front of the National Assembly (Korea's congress).

Articles on the incident published in The Daily Labor News, Korean Daily, multiple articles on Hankyoreh (one of which made it to the print edition), and other news outlets.

Segments about the termination on the MBN 7 o' clock news and MBC's morning news

Comments by Youth Union leaders about looking into a loan made to Project Moon via Devsisters Ventures, a venture capital firm. Tax money from Gyeonggi province was invested in Devsisters in 2017, and in 2021, Devsisters gave money to Project Moon. The Gyeonggi Youth Union is asking why hard-earned tax money was indirectly given to a company who violates ESG (environmental, social and governance) principles.

Almost nonstop signage truck protests outside Project Moon's physical office during business hours until 8/22 or the company makes a statement. This occurs alongside a coordinated hashtag campaign to get the issue trending on Twitter in Korea. The signage campaign was crowd-funded in about 3 hours.

A full boycott of the Limbus Company app, on both mobile and PC (steam) platforms. Overseas fans are highly encouraged to participate, regardless if whether they're F2P or not. Not opening the app at all is arguably the biggest thing any one person can do to protest the decision, as the app logs the number of accounts that log on daily. For a new gacha such as Limbus, a high number of F2P daily active users, but a small number of paying users is often preferable to having a smaller userbase but more paying users. If the company sees the number of daily users remain stable, they will likely decide to wait out any backlash rather than apologize.

Digging up verified reviews from previous employees regarding the company's poor management practices

Due to the firing, the Leviathan artist has posted about poor working conditions when making the story. As per a bilingual speaker, they were working on a storyboard revision, and thought 'if I ran into the street right now and got hit by a car and died, I wouldn't have to keep working.' They contacted Project Moon because they didn't want their work to be like that, and proposed changes to serialization/reduction in amount of work per picture/to build up a buffer of finished images (they did not have any buffer while working on Leviathan to my knowledge). They were shut out, and had to suck it up and accept the situation.

Hamhampangpang has a 'shrine' section of the restaurant for fans to leave fan-created merch and other items. They also allow the fans to take this merch back if they can prove it's theirs. Fans are now doing just that.

To boost all of the above, a large number of Korean fanartists with thousands of followers have deleted their works and/or converted their accounts from fanart accounts to accounts supporting the protests. Many of them are bilingual, and they're where I got the majority of this information.

[note 1: there's a targeted english-language disinformation campaign by the website that started the hate mob. i have read the artist's tweets with machine translation, and they're talked about in the second hankyoreh article linked above: nowhere does she express any transphobic or similarly awful beliefs. likewise, be wary of any claims that she supported anything whose description makes you raise eyebrows--those claims are likely in reference to megalia, a korean feminist movement. for information on that, i'd recommend the NPR/BBC articles below and this google drive link of english-language scholarly papers on them. for the love of god don't get your information about a feminist movement from guys going on witch hunts for feminists.]

[note 2: i've seen a couple people argue that the firing was for the physical safety of the employees, citing the kyoani incident in japan. as per this korean fan, most fans there strongly do not believe this was the case. we have english-translated transcripts of the meeting between the mob and project moon; the threats the mob was making were to......brand project moon as a feminist company online. yes, really. male korean gamers aren't normal about feminism, and there's been an ongoing witch hunt for feminists in the industry since about 2016, something you see noted in both the labor union statements. both NPR and the BBC this phenomenon to gamergate, and i'd say it's a pretty apt comparison.]

let me know if anything needs correction or if anything should be added.

#project moon #limbus company #obligatory text post tag #that's all i've got for now. highly encourage y'all to not open limbus until they make a statement

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natailiatulls07 · 9 months

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Wholesome moments

Formula one grid & female!driver!reader

Summary - 5 wholesome moments

Warning - none tbh, happy crying?? Being drunk??

Reader drives for RedBull

One - Late to post race press

I was in my drivers room, relaxing after a race. Strolling through tiktok when my manager, Emma, rushs in looking annoyed. "Oh hi Emma" I offer her a small smile which seems to only annoy her more.

"What are you doing?!" Her tone angry, by now I was confused. Pointing down to my phone which had a random tiktok playing on repeat. "You have the post race press, it was meant to start ten minutes ago but their waiting on you!" It was only then when I finally looked at the time, she was right.

Jumping up from the leather sofa, rushing out of my room toward the conference room with Emma close behind. Walking in, I could see everyones eyes on me. "Hey...so sorry for my tardiness" Laughing at myself awkwardly whilst everyone soon joined in with laughter.

Sit down in my seat between Fernando and Carlos. "So tell us Y/n what was so important that time fell away from you?" Turning my head to Daniel who had a smug smile on his face.

"Well if you must know Danny, tiktok has become very addictive recently" I wore a sheepish smile on my face as the room once again erupted in laughter.

"See kids these days, hooked to their phone" Daniel replied, shaking his head knowingly. It wsm't long before the laughter died down and we started press with myself in attendance.

Two - Prankster

If there was one thing on the paddock that I was known for it would be my notorious prank on anyone and everyone. LIke one time, I posted a instagram announcing 'my retirement'. This meant that I had my phone blowing up, texts, comments, missed calls and etc. I remember about two minute after I posted the instagram, I could a call from Christian. "Hey Chris!"

"What the hell Y/n?! What is going on with your instagram post?" I had to surpress my laughter and acted somewhat sad. He sounded upset, this made me feel almost sad for him.

"Oh yeah I know that its the middle of the season but I found some thing better for myself.." It was going great, I loved it. After a few seconds of silence, he came back to his sense.

"What could you have possible found that is better than not only driving for Redbull but for formula one?!" His voice was soon becoming more and more annoyed, and what I was about to say would set him off.

It was really hard to surpress myself from laughing when I told him the 'better thing'. "Have you ever heard of dog food tasters?" One could only imagine what his head was going through.

Yet again there was a few seconds of an awakward silence, a silence to sit through and not laugh. "Y/n... you're kidding me, you're the fussiest person I have ever met! And you're going to from fucking formula one and redbull to a dog food taster... you won't even drink coffee, let alone dog food!"

I could no longer hold in my laughter, doubling over I could hear Chris questioning my laugh. "Oh my god! You actually believed me, Christian I'm not leave redbull or formula one. I just pranked you" Dead silence until I heard Christian chuckle.

“I should of known, you little prankster” Let’s just say for the rest of the day, my phone would not turn off. Nearly every other driver on the grid calling, anxiety coursing through their heads.

Three - the little weight

It was the yearly FIA prize giving ceremony, everyone swapped out of their uniforms for gowns and suits. Hair and makeup done.

Sat in the buzzing venue, the night of celebrations meant I had not kept track of the amount of alcohol I was downing. Until I was announced as rookie of the year.

Raising from my seat, I made my way to stage. The crowd were clapping and cheering, I could see the other drivers sporting proud smiles.

Arriving to the mic which sat in the middle of the stage, I was handed my trophy. “Oh wow, thank you! I would like to say that I love you all and I’m that I want to thank Alex Turner for this because he is hot!” All it was rambling, I continued to ramble until Lando stood up from his seat.

“Quick question! Y/n how many drinks have you had?” His voice contained both concerns and amusement.

Holding up my free hand with two fingers, almost proudly. This small gesture made everyone burst into a light laughter. “Oh god! You are so drunk..” Lando trailed off whilst climbing up the stairs before walking me off stage.

“Come on, I think it’s time we start getting some water down you and maybe getting you home” He continued to walk me over to the grand reception where we waited for a taxi and drank some water.

Waking up the next morning, I was in my bed. Looking over at my phone, I could see a text from Lando along with other notifications probably regarding last night.

‘Hey kiddo, I managed to get you back to your apartment last night. Maybe next time don’t drink as much

Lots of love your big brother’

Checking social media, I immediately got embarrassment as my drunken ramble went viral.

Four - First F1 podium

“Okay Leclerc and Hamilton have a hot 7 seconds gap between you and them, keep pushing” It was the Austrian race and I had somehow settled myself into p2.

My anxiety was on an all time high when I was racing but currently being in p2 made that anxiety worsen. “Copy..” I was focused on getting that podium.

It would be my first podium, and even if I didn’t stand in pole position I would be happy. “How many laps left?” I asked my race engineer through the radio, I wanted to finish the race as soon as possible.

“Only two laps left, you can do it!” Only two that was reassuring to say the least. I could hear crowd cheering but I didn’t let that next my focus from the p2 spot.

“One lap left! Keep pushing!” One lap. One more lap until could stand on that podium for the first time. I accelerated the car, there was no chance I would catch Max but I had to keep that distance from the Ferrari and Mercedes behind me.

“There’s the checkered flag! You can do!” I could see the line and flag waving in the distance, it was only when I crossed the line that I really let my focus go and come to the realisation that I was on the podium.

“I did it! I fucking did it! P2 baby! That’s what I like to hear!” I could my race engineer laugh at my antics of the radio, whilst also tell me that they were incredibly proud.

Standing on the podium, I looked over at the crowd. A large smile was planted on my face. “Kiddo you did it! You’re on the podium!” I heard Max who was of course in p1 exclaim beside me.

I was soon soaked in sweet champagne, I didn’t care if it ruined my hair. All I cared about was the position I finished today’s race with.

Five - P1…oh how I like this view

Once again I was sat in the redbull car, awaiting for my the race to begin. I was very lucky to be granted pole position in Monaco of all places. It was tense as we all waited for the five lights to flash out.

And when the did, I was off leaving the wait line in no time. Tackling every tight curve, accelerating when ever I saw someone even get close to me.

I could feel the blazing sun down on my race suit. I could smell the scent of burning rubber. I could hear crowds who had lined the tracks. I could taste the exhaust filled air. But I felt like I had gone blind, just focusing on the track and maintaining my car from any possible damage.

Whilst in pit stop, my anxiety ran through the heavens. Just wanting to get back on the track and end with my win.

I was up against some of the best of the best. And I had to hold onto the pole position, hold onto that winning position.

“Verstappen is just over 5 seconds behind you so not much of a gap, keep pushing when you can” My race engineer was aware of anxiety when it came to racing, but she was also aware of my hunger for that winning position.

“Copy, how many laps?” Once again I was twisting around the narrow corners.

“Three, if you push the gap bigger you’ll probably win!” That’s was all I needed to give me motivation to push as hard as I can.

Pressing down on the accelerator, I heard the rumbling of my car increase in sound.

After three agonising laps, I could see the checkered flag being waved. Tears were welling up on my waterline. It was only when I cross that finish line when I then let them fall down my cheeks.

“I did… I’m first” I whispered, so only myself and my face engineer could hear. It was barely audible over the loud crowds who were cheering me on for my first win.

Finally standing above the number felt great. I felt tall, empowered, unstoppable and proud. Everyone was cheering as I was handed the trophy. Off to the side were the rest of the drivers who hadn’t won podium stood smiling up at me.

I felt that familiar family love once again. I always did whether I didn’t place top ten or if I had gotten to that first place position. I would be lying if I didn’t feel that love to them in return.

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justalittlesolarpunk · 7 months

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Recently, I attended a conference where people referred to it as the ‘triple planetary crisis’ (climate change, biodiversity loss and plastic/waste pollution) and honestly I think it’s a game changer, shorter to say that ‘climate and ecological crisis’, leaves out a lot of the words that switch people off (warming, extinction, etc) and yet conveys urgency and a sense of universal responsibility. What do you guys think?

#solarpunk #hopepunk #environmentalism #social justice #community #climate justice #bright future #terminology #triple planetary crisis

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theabigailthorn · 5 months

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Hello~ I just wanted to add a late thank you for your AI video! I attended an academic conference recently as I wrap up my PhD, and AI was a huge buzzword for everyone there but it was a lot of very surface-level discussions and boring stats on its technical performance. I felt like I was equipped to have really proper debates about the utility of these systems and talk with other people about them much more holistically and productively from having watched something that is less concerned with the narrow technical benefits of large-scale computing. It was a really valuable perspective to have with me to make sure I wasn't just getting swept away by piles of nominally impressive data, so thank you for your work ^_^

Heyyy, that's awesome!

Yeah the video didn't hit as hard as I thought it would in terms of views but it's been really nice how many people who actually work in the field got in touch to say they found it valuable

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hotchs-big-hands · 10 months

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What did you call me?

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|4.9k words

Aaron Hotchner x plus size fem!reader

NSFW Minors dni please

Warning(s): some angst, yearning, details about graphic crime scenes, strip clubs/sex clubs.

When Dom/sub couples begin to show up murdered mid-coital, the BAU team is brought in to solve the case. But as more couples are found and the unsub remains undetected, it becomes an undercover mission. The posing Dom/sub couple in question? Your intimidating, attractive boss and you.

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Hey everyone, welcome to my first fanfic! I used to write and post stuff back in 2018ish but it was a different fandom. I've not written and posted anything tho since then so I'm a bit nervous! But idk I just got back into cm recently and I saw Hotch and my brain was like oh yeah 👁️👁️ (I used to be a Spencer girlie) and I've mostly written stuff for myself but I decided imma start doing stuff on here too! I hope you enjoy and lemme know if you wanna be tagged in future writings 🥰 side note, I'm a fat gal so I will probably centre most of my stuff around plus size readers cuz there's not enough of it for plus size Hotch girlies 😔 but technically anyone can read and enjoy it! This was getting extremely long so I'm splitting it into three parts so here's the first one! Anyway, enjoy 💅

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The feeling of something blunt lightly bounced against your forehead, making you blink a few times and rub the area with your hand.

"Hey... Who did that?" You grumbled, eyes darting from one face of your coworkers to the next. Three of them all pointed towards the culprit and as your eyes drifted back to him you were met with a cheeky grin on the charming, dark-skinned man's face.

"You were spaced out, sugar." Derek Morgan said. "Got a lot on your mind?"

"Got a lot of him on her mind, more like." A voice cut in smugly, flustering you in an instant, your heart beginning to race. Your eyes flicked to Prentiss, the pristine raven haired woman was smirking at you, her eyes glinting. You squeaked and shifted in your office chair nervously.

"No, Em! Just... couldn't sleep last night."

The weak explanation didn't help, it only widened the smirk on Prentiss' face as she leaned forward.

"Oh? Do tell us more."

"There's nothing to say!" You abruptly turned to the casefile that lay open on your slightly messy desk and tried to ignore the movement at the corner of your eye; Emily was shuffling her chair over to you, no doubt still with that annoying smirk on her face.

"Oh it sure sounds like there is though."

Before you had the chance to defend yourself an all too familiar voice demanded everyone's attention and subsequently caused a shiver to trickle down your spine. Your hands gripped onto your chair.

"My team; in the conference room now. We have a case." Your unit chief spoke. All heads turned to the direction of a slightly elevated walkway where a sharply dressed man stood for a mere moment, locking eyes with yours, before he began walking briskly towards the mentioned conference room.

Fuck. Hotch was wearing your favourite suit and tie today and a few stray wisps of his short, dark hair stubbornly lay over his forehead, no matter how often he must have tried to push them up off his face. Everyday was harder than the previous working with that man. The moment you'd attended your interview months ago, sitting in front of the brooding man, you knew you were fucked. Yes, you had been eager to join the famed BAU unit and were grateful for the opportunity that arose but you'd be lying if another reason you eagerly answered all the questions prompted to you in that interview wasn't because you were instantly attracted to Aaron Hotchner. However, that was almost a year ago now and you were struggling with your growing attraction to the man the more you were around him. Your coworkers and friends certainly were no help, given they'd soon caught onto your crush.

A hand waved in front of your face and you blinked.

"Time to go, lovergirl." Prentiss teased and you sighed, quickly joining the others as they made their way to the case briefing. You needed to focus.

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Landing in Chicago a few hours later, the team were thrust into a gnarly investigation involving couples being murdered in their hotel rooms mid-coital. The crime scene photos were hard to look at, to say the least. Setting up a base of operations in the police department didn't take too long and currently you were in the midst of interviewing family members of the deceased along with Hotch at his insistence. It wasn't often that you took part in these interviews, even less often did Hotch ever team you up with him. Quite frankly, it made you feel a little nervous, but there was no way you'd question his decision. And certainly, you did not miss the subtle smug look Emily gave you as you trailed after the man you thought about way too much.

Sitting beside him in the SUV, just the two of you alone made your head feel a little bit floaty as you tried your best to remain as stoic as possible, reminding yourself of the details of the case so far and of the little bits of information from the families you'd spoken to. Even with the effort there was no preventing the permeating scent of his cologne and a hint of his own natural musk from scrambling your brain. He smelled good, too good, and the way his hands gripped the steering wheel from the quick glances you dared peek developed a heat to coil within the depths of your lower abdomen.

"Are you alright?" His voice brought you out of your thoughts. You felt flushed.

"H-huh?" You felt dumbstruck, all because of him. He exhaled through his nose sharply, clearly dissatisfied with your response.

"You're distracted."

Oh. Of course he could pick up on it. You shifted in your seat, subtly rubbing your plump thighs together.

"I'm okay, I guess I've not had enough to drink today though. I'll get some water when we head back to the station." Not a lie, technically. You'd forgotten your bottle of water you normally had ready to fill up to take on cases. Hotch hummed, the sound deep and making you clench between your thighs.

"I did notice you didn't have your water like you usually do. I should have said something." He said. Wait, he noticed? You didn't think he picked up on things about you, he didn't often appear to pay attention to you besides on a strictly professional level. But as you turned your head to him in surprise his brows were furrowed in frustration, as though annoyed with himself for not saying anything.

"Oh no, it's fine. I've been a bit of a scatterbrain as of late." You admitted sheepishly, a little smile on your lips. Hotch glanced at you, eyes flicking down to your lips, then back to your eyes, making your breath hitch.

"Anything I can do to help?"

You bit your lip, your mind flooded with a whole array of thoughts that you knew you shouldn't be having about your boss. He didn't know he was the reason you were so distracted, desperate to feel his lips on yours, on your body and his hands on your skin, his fingers inside you. Fuck. You needed to get it together, for goodness' sake. You quickly glanced back towards the road.

"Ah, no. I'm okay, sir. I'll sort myself out." You murmured, missing the way his knuckles whitened under the pressure of his grip on the wheel.

"Don't hesitate to come to me if you need anything."

You tried not to think of what you wanted him to do to you, instead humming in response.

"Thank you, sir."

You needed to get out of this damn car as soon as possible.

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Immediately upon returning to the station you rushed off to find a vending machine so you could grab a bottle of water. As soon as you had your hands on the cold, plastic bottle you were gulping down the cool liquid, not realising just how flushed you felt.

"Whoa, slow down there, (L/n)!" You heard JJ's voice from behind you and you turned, pulling the bottle from your mouth wide-eyed. The blonde woman looked slightly alarmed. "Are you okay?"

You nodded.

"Yeah, yeah. I just forgot to bring water so I kinda got a bit dehydrated I think." You explain quickly. JJ frowned a little.

"You'd better be careful next time. And don't drink too quickly, you could accidentally choke."

You smiled sheepishly under her scolding and screwed the lid back on.

"Sorry, I'll drink slower."

JJ led you back to the office where you found the familiar sight of Spencer pouring over a map of the area. Pieces of string had been wrapped around pins indicating the last locations victims were seen and the scenes of their murders, no clear pattern in sight as there sometimes was. On one of the tables lay several empty paper coffee cups, a few rings of spilled coffee staining the surface top. He was speaking quietly to another member of the team, David Rossi, and Hotch; of whom stood beside the young Doctor with his arms folded across his chest, inevitably tightening the suit over his physique. You forced yourself to focus on the map.

Not long after your arrival you heard two sets of footsteps trudge into the room.

"No employees or frequent customers that are of note. We have nothing." Derek huffed as he made his way over to one of the chairs and slumped down into it. Emily joined you and JJ, her face appeared neutral but you could tell there was a hint of annoyance behind it. You heaved a deep sigh and felt eyes on you which made you instinctively seek out who it was, only to be startled when your eyes met deep brown ones, almost black in the artificial lighting. Hotch didn't look away, instead holding your gaze until you quickly turned away, feeling embarrassed.

"There has to be something that connects them all." Rossi said. Your eyes drifted across the map, narrowing a little. There had to be a mutual place that all these couples had been to in the final week leading up to their deaths. Somewhere that couples who enjoy sexual relations more than the average couple would go. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and quickly scrolled through your contacts until you found the one you were looking for. As you pressed dial you put the call on loudspeaker it merely rang once before there was an answer.

"Hello, you've reached the hotline for the simply fantabulous Penelope Garcia; how may I assist you?" A bubbly voice filtered through. All eyes were on the phone as you placed it on the table in front of you.

"Hiya, babe, I have a request for you. We're trying to find a link between the couples but so far nothing has cropped up. But I have a theory," you spoke, feeling a little awkward at what you were about to say. "Uhm, do you think you could try search for any strip clubs or even straight up sex clubs in the area? Easily accessible or possibly a more hidden club?"

You could feel his eyes on you again but you tried hard to stare at the phone. Garcia gasped from the other end of the line, but the sound of nails on a keyboard reassured you she was already on the case. Beside you, you felt Emily poke you and you lightly shoved her with your wide hip.

"Oh wow, I did not think I would be looking at this sort of thing today. But lucky you, I have a whole list of places! I-" there was clicking, followed by another gasp. "Oh my! That is certainly a homepage! You have no idea about the things I'm seeing right now, well, I mean I'll be sending these to you anyway but gosh! I'm going to do a thorough clean of my history once this case-"

"-Garcia, focus." Hotch said firmly and you heard a quick apology from the other end of the line. He moved to lean over the table, propping himself up with his hands as he took charge of the phone call. "We need security footage from these locations. Whatever you can give us, we'll take it."

More clacking of nails, you tried not to stare at your boss as he leered over your phone, forcing yourself to look away from his straining suit, the dangling tie, his large hands. Horrifically, you instead met eyes with the oldest of the group, Rossi, who had clearly caught you ogling Hotch from the glint in his experienced eyes and the twitch at the corner of his mouth. Shit. You could only hope no one else had witnessed your blatancy. Thankfully, Garcia's voice came through again.

"I'm sending over whatever footage I can find as well as the addresses to the establishments now."

You reached across the table, hyper aware of how close you were to Hotch as you took hold of your phone. He studied you carefully when you hurried backwards, swallowing thickly. You cleared your throat.

"Thanks, babe, you're a star." You said.

"Well of course, I'm your star." Garcia responded cheerily and the line went dead. Hotch straightened up and pulled his suit back into place, turning to address everyone.

"We need to review the footage and find out which location all the victims visited at some point within the last few weeks, then we can make a plan of action." He was stern as he spoke, hands in his pockets and his shoulders squared. There was a mutual noise of agreement from everyone and you all split into smaller groups around the monitors in the room. Hotch disappeared off to find the chief of police and you couldn't help but let your eyes follow him as he rushed out of the room, eyes transfixed on the tight fabric of his dress pants.

"Girl, you aren't even hiding it." You heard Derek say and you huffed, walking over to Spencer and sitting down next to him. He offered you an awkward smile and shuffled his chair to the side so you could get closer to the computer he was working on.

"Shut up, Derek." You muttered and he chuckled.

"I'm just saying, you should probably talk to him."

Your eyes widened in horror.

"Excuse me?"

Spencer cleared his throat.

"I agree, It's a bit obvious that he's interested in you too." He said softly and you huffed, shuffling your chair closer to the table and leaning towards the computer screen.

"Stop saying ridiculous things like that, both of you. We have work to do anyway."

Derek stepped back with his hands raised in surrender before retreating back to the computer he was situated at whilst Spencer simply watched you carefully, frowning a little.

It was dangerous for you to even dare think of such things. There were so many reasons why you couldn't let your mind go there. If not for the ethical reason due to his and your job statuses, then maybe because he was much older than you with a son. But also you'd seen photos of his ex-wife and ex-girlfriend and you certainly didn't look like his type. Not slender, not sleek like they were. You didn't think he was a shallow man but you'd also dealt with disappointment after disappointment with how others had treated you based on your appearance. You had to keep yourself safe, so your attraction for your boss would remain nothing more than a secret from him. You sighed softly as the young man beside you clicked on the first video footage from one of the private sex clubs. There was no more time to waste.

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The following few hours were downright miserable, viewing video, after video of footage from various clubs until you felt as though your eyes and your brain would melt out of your head. Finally, however, Emily made a noise of alarm, mouth full of cheap coffee, and alerted everyone to her computer. Swallowing the burning, bitter liquid, she retracted the footage a little and replayed it.

"Look, It's the Smiths! The first couple to be murdered. They came in to this very exclusive private sex club at the end of last month." She said hurriedly. In the slightly fuzzy camera quality indeed the couple waltzed into the lobby of the facility and approached the reception desk.

"Fast forward the feed." You heard Hotch say, causing goosebumps to bristle across your skin. You knew he had returned at some point but didn't expect him to stand right beside you. Someone made a call to Garcia and she confirmed with her database that it was indeed the couple. Further analysis of the footage from days afterwards showed that every single of the other couples had also been to this sex club too shortly before they were murdered. And yet they had no indication still of who was the murderer.

The day was drawing in at this point but as a final task before anyone would return to the hotel, Hotch sent out Morgan and Prentiss to the club to ask some questions, something that you couldn't help but chuckle at. The raven haired woman narrowed her eyes slightly at you.

"Laugh all you want but I'd be careful if I were you." She warned but you simply smirked.

"Don't have too much fun now, you two." You said cheerily, Morgan raised a brow at you and then the two were off begrudgingly. You felt JJ sidle up beside you.

"You know she will get you back." She murmured and you shrugged.

"She doesn't scare me."

"She scares me a little." Spencer said aloud, causing the two of you to turn your heads in his direction. He flushed, ducking his head slightly. "I- uh, well you know how she is."

"I wouldn't think you were intimidated by her, Spence, I mean you're the one who won the prank war with Morgan." JJ said, chuckling. A small smile tugged at his mouth.

"I wouldn't cross Emily, though."

You hummed and pushed up out of your chair.

"Well anyway, either of you want a hot drink?" You offered. JJ smiled.

"Oh no, thank you." As Spencer opened his mouth to respond she lifted a finger up at him. "Ah- you definitely don't need anymore coffee at this time of day."

A quiet giggle passed your lips and you turned to head to the kitchenette of the station.

"I'm not getting involved."

Walking out of the office you crossed the police department, avoiding any officers who still remained within the building, and came to a pause in the entryway of the kitchen, dipping away from the doorway out of sight. The two oldest members of the team were in a deep conversation, Hotch with his back to the door and Rossi facing the direction you were in. They spoke quietly, you knew you shouldn't listen in and yet you couldn't help it.

"Stop being absurd. What makes you think I'd even consider doing that?" Hotch hissed, his voice barely audible from where you were.

"Come on, Aaron, you can't keep this going forever. You know that." Rossi countered. There were more words said but were too quiet for you to decipher. That was until Hotch spoke a little louder again, sounding more frustrated.

"I am not currently wishing to be involved with anyone like that, Dave. I just can't."

In an instant you felt your heart in your throat, your eyes stinging.

Oh.

You felt stupid. Of course he wasn't interested in dating anyone. Even despite closely guarding your feelings for Hotch to be nothing further than a personal crush that he would never find out about it still hurt knowing you never had a chance to begin with.

Walking a few steps away from the kitchen, you made a point of entering the kitchen area, feigning surprise as your eyes landed on the two men in the room. Clearly, your entrance startled them, particularly him, who looked a little guilty before the slight expression glossed over with stern stoicism. Hotch glanced away, turning to Rossi.

"I'll see you at the hotel." He muttered and then he was brushing past you, his hand grazing your arm slightly and his scent consuming your senses. And then he was gone, all that remained was the slight coolness of his absence. You swallowed thickly but tried to mask your emotions from the seasoned agent still remaining.

"Coffee? There's some left still, maybe enough for one last cup." Rossi said softly. You smiled slightly as you approached him but shook your head.

"Ah no, thank you. I'm going to have tea. It's way too late for coffee, don't you think?"

The man hummed, watching you carefully. You suspected he had seen you earlier, that you'd heard the conversation but you didn't feel like talking about it.

"I hope you know that if you ever need someone to lend an ear that I'm always willing to listen."

Your hands faltered slightly during sorting out putting a tea bag in a clean mug. Your eyes flicked to the side at Rossi briefly.

"I know that."

"I know you heard what you think you heard but-"

"-Let's not- We aren't talking about this." You cut him off shakily, stopping yourself before you poured the hot water into the mug. "There's nothing to say about it."

You turned away from the kitchen counter to lean against it, rubbing your tired eyes with your palms. Rossi sighed quietly.

"You didn't catch the whole conversation." He tried after a moment. You scoffed.

"It wasn't for me to hear. I only did so by accident. I'm not going to read into it because the only people who were meant to hear what was discussed was you and-" Your throat felt tighter still, an unseen coil constricting you, just as the man you longed for constricted your heart and soul. You didn't say his name, couldn't. Mercifully, the man before you understood.

"I know."

You nodded. The mug of tea wasn't appealing anymore; the quiet promise of solitude in a hotel room called to you more than all else.

"I.... I think I need to call it a night. I don't feel well."

Rossi placed a hand on your upper arm and squeezed lightly.

"I'll inform the others and grab your stuff then I'll drive you to the hotel we're staying in," he fished out the keys to one of the SUVs and handed them to you, the metal clinking together. "Go, wait in the car for me." He said. The corners of your mouth tilted upwards in appreciation and you hurried out, eager to have even a moment to yourself.

The moment you pushed the doors of the building open and stepped outside you exhaled, grimacing slightly at the still, warm air of the night. You'd hoped it would have cooled down more, now that the sun had long since settled behind the horizon, but you felt stifled, the heat doing nothing to soothe the tightness in your throat and chest. Breathing shakily, you unlocked the car and climbed into the passenger seat, laying your head back against the head rest.

There was no reason for you to feel so upset about this. It wasn't as though you intended on ever approaching your boss about your ever growing feelings for him, you wouldn't dare do that. And yet you felt almost physically sick from heartbreak and the worst part was he didn't even know the pain you were in. Hell, you didn't even know where he was right now after he rushed out of the kitchen.

You knew the moment Rossi obviously had retrieved your belongings judging the way your phone had begun to vibrate from text notifications, no doubt from your coworkers. You'd answer them when you made it to the hotel, you decided. A few minutes later you spotted the older man exit the station and approach the car you were in, your bag and coat in hand. The sight made you smile even the tiniest bit, something that he noticed. You felt the car jolt a little as he opened the trunk so he could put your belongings down and jolt again when he slammed it lightly. A second later he was climbing in on the driver's side where you held out the car keys to him.

"Thanks." He took the keys and inserted them into the ignition, the engine roaring to life and you slipped your seatbelt on. Rossi glanced at you. "Let's get you to the hotel. Best thing about this is if there aren't enough rooms for one each you can have first pick on if you want the single or not." He said as you pulled out the station parking lot. You scoffed.

"Oh you know I'm absolutely taking the single this time." You retorted. In any other scenario you would have risked sharing a room, risk being paired with him. Now the thought made you want to cry. Your little smile faded and you turned your head to the window, resting on the cool glass. Sensing you were finished talking, Rossi didn't say anything else for the remainder of the drive.

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A little groan escaped your lips when you collapsed backwards on the single bed in your hotel room, exhaustion overrunning your very being from the long day. For a moment you simply lay there silently, staring at the dulled white ceiling whilst your mind raced. You knew this wasn't ideal, you couldn't let yourself be distracted from the case.

Huffing, you remembered that you needed to respond to messages to let the others know you would be alright by the morning. After pulling your phone out of your pocket, the screen lit up and your eyes flicked across the notifications on the lock screen. Lots of messages from your worried coworkers. You unlocked the phone and set about answering them one-by-one. JJ and Emily offered to stop by your hotel room to check in on you, not knowing you'd been feeling unwell up until this point, but you reassured them you would be okay.

Just as you finished your nightly routine and pulled the covers back, there was a knock on your door. Your brows furrowed slightly. Who would be knocking at this time? Sighing, you approached the door and leaned close to the peephole, expecting to see one of the ladies or maybe even Rossi.

Standing tensely with his shoulders squared was Aaron Hotchner. A quiet gasp escaped you and you jolted backwards from the door. What the fuck was he doing here?! With shaky hands, you pulled the door open and slightly covered yourself with it, hyper aware of your clothing situation. Hotch perked up and stared down at you.

"Rossi informed me that you weren't feeling well and had to retire early." He murmured gently, his face stern. You swallowed and silently invited him into your room by stepping back, pulling the door with you. He cautiously walked into your hotel room and you closed the door behind him, wrapping your arms around yourself in a feeble attempt to cover your body up. Why, oh why did you have to wear shorts that barely covered your ass and an old tee that wasn't as baggy anymore from being washed one too many times?

You cleared your throat and avoided looking in Hotch's direction.

"He's right. But I'm sure I'll feel better by tomorrow though."

You offered a little smile, eyes flicking to his face and realised he was staring. Except he wasn't staring at your face, no, his eyes were focused lower down at your chest. Christ. You quickly looked away again before he realised you'd caught him out and he hummed, the sound making you clench.

"What's wrong?"

Oh no. You couldn't answer that. Your eyes met his and you opened your mouth, hesitating with no response to give.

"I.... Just felt sick, that's all. I'll be okay though."

You never were good at hiding how you were really feeling, the deepening frown on the man's face before you merely evident of this.

"Are you certain? You can tell me anything, you know that." He said softly as he stepped closer to you. You nodded and tried smiling again at him.

"I know, sir. I promise I'm alright though." You tightened your arms around yourself until your flesh dipped under the pressure of your fingertips. Hotch's eyes trailed over you from head to toe, clearly unsatisfied with your reluctance to tell him the truth, but didn't push the matter further. You inhaled as he stepped closer still, his scent once more overwhelming you. His fingers flexed at his side as though he was conflicted and you wished he would reach out and touch you. Eventually, he sighed quietly and retreated a step.

"Alright. But I will be keeping an eye on you now."

Not good. You nodded though, then yawned and your cheeks flushed with warmth. Despite the tension, a small smile tugged at Hotch's mouth.

"You should get some rest." He said. You chuckled.

"Yeah, you as well though. I know what you're like."

He raised a brow at you.

"Really now?"

Your eyes widened and you stuttered.

"W-well I'm just saying, you do leave the office last, you're up earlier than everyone else too-" you cut yourself off, not wanting to dig your hole any deeper. You dared a quick glance his way and he was still slightly smirking.

"Get some rest, your boss is going to be up early again tomorrow to call everyone in."

A little chuckle escaped you and you followed Hotch to the door, grabbing the door as he opened it and hiding behind it again as you watched him make his way out into the corridor. He turned back to you and gazed down at you again.

"Good night, (L/n)." He murmured. Your eyes met and you gripped onto the door.

"Good night, sir."

He shifted, as though debating something in his head, then he turned and stalked down the corridor. You didn't close your door until he disappeared from sight. When you returned to your bed you collapsed down onto it whilst your mind raced. That night your dreams were filled with forbidden touches and kisses from the man you loved.

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And that's part one for now pls lemme know what you think and if anyone wants to be tagged in future works! Thank you for reading 💖💖

#a writes #a's writing #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x plus size reader #plus size reader #plus size!reader

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sugarandspisces-writes · 2 days

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Coffee + Crosswords

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x reader

Summary: It's Friday at Abbott and you spend a slow morning in the break room with Melissa and Janine.

Word Count: 3.3k

If you were to ask anyone at Abbott what their favorite day of the week was, they were guaranteed to say Friday. Unless you were to ask Barbara Howard. She would not hesitate to tell you that her favorite day was Sunday. Nonetheless, Friday was a day that everyone enjoyed because it meant the weekend was around the corner.

It was a day when things slowed down, and you could step away from the week's stressors and just breathe. Plus, if you were on top of things, you didn’t have to worry about grading papers or making lesson plans for a couple days. But you knew better than anyone that it didn’t always work out that way. Sometimes you still had work left to complete on the weekends no matter how productive you’d been at work.

The students also loved Fridays because learning for the week was done. The biggest task they had to accomplish was showing that they understood the material being taught. Your second graders loved the end of the week because they looked forward to taking their spelling tests. However, today was not about taking tests. The end of the first semester was approaching, and most teachers were counting down the days. It seemed like a lifetime away, and everyone was looking for a way to make the time go by faster. The strategy beloved by the kids, and their teachers if you were being honest, was to have a movie day. For you, there was something nostalgic about watching movies at school. It made you miss the days you were in your kids’ shoes.

It was around 10 o’clock, and you sat in the teacher’s lounge while your kids attended art class. Melissa was in the lounge with you since it was her free period, and you knew Janine was bound to show up at any moment since it was her break as well. You sat at the table near Melissa’s and talked about the events of your day.

You’d been teaching alongside the woman for over a year, yet you struggled to find your footing around her. One moment she seemed to enjoy your company, and the next she didn’t pay you any mind. However, she was up for discussion today, and the content of your conversation surprised you. She was following up on an issue you’d brought to her attention a few weeks back.

“Did you ever get that stuff figured out with your student?” She pulled her eyes away from the TV and focused on you.

“Oh, um, kind of.” Truthfully the answer was no, but you'd been holding onto hope.

Parent-teacher conferences recently took place, and you spoke with the parents of a student who struggled with math. Despite the effort you’d put into gathering the evidence–worksheets, quizzes, and even standardized test scores–they didn’t believe their child was struggling. Since Melissa had gone through a similar situation, you asked for advice.

Her face scrunched in confusion at your uncertainty. “What's that s'posed to mean?”

“Well, they’re still not budging, so…” You shrugged before slumping into your chair.

“So, what?” Melissa’s shoulders copied your actions, though hers were more pronounced. Her jacket rustled with the movement, the silver hardware clanking against each other. “You just gonna give up?”

Immediately, your posture straightened at the insinuation of admitting defeat. “What? No, I never said that!”

She wasn’t fond of quitters, so your reaction rubbed her the wrong way. “You coulda fooled me.”

Everything you tried had seemingly failed, and as a new teacher, that was discouraging. You’d never give up on your students though, so you had to see it through. “I’m in the process of putting a plan together.”

“Did you get in touch with the math interventionist?” That was one of her recommendations, and she wanted to know if you followed through.

“Yes, and they’re gonna work with him during the summer. You know they have an outreach program for the kids, but it depends on his parents' compliance. They're not gonna let anyone work with him if they don't see an issue.” She nodded in understanding, prompting you to continue on. “If not, they told me they'd work with him at the beginning of next year so he wouldn't slip too far behind, but I’ll believe it when I see it.” Since the district was short-staffed, the schools had to share resources. It was extremely inconvenient, but you had to make do with what you had.

She was pleased that you took her advice and that she wasn't just flapping her gums for the hell of it. “At least that’s something. It shows they're trying, you know?”

You sighed, upset at the fact that you were still at odds. “I guess, but I feel so bad. He’s having a really hard time, and he gets so frustrated with it. I’m afraid he’ll just give up. Especially since his parents aren’t on the same page.”

She agreed with the point you were making. “There's potential for that to occur, but it’s not a reflection of your teaching abilities.”

“It is though, isn’t it?” It was your responsibility to educate, so wouldn’t the blame rest on you?

“Not necessarily. We do what we can, but we aren’t always capable of filling in the gaps. Sometimes we have to recruit additional forces. It doesn’t make us failures 'cause we couldn’t do it on our own.”

You worked hard to ensure that your students were motivated to learn. If they ever lost their drive, you wouldn’t hesitate to help them regain it–even if it meant you had to spend time with them before or after school. Melissa’s words helped you realize that your setback didn’t stem from a lack of proficiency. “You’re right. It just sucks.”

“When have you known me to be wrong?” She smirked.

“Oh, whatever.” You rolled your eyes, still finding yourself laughing nonetheless.

“But seriously, it’s nothing you can’t handle. I know it’s tough, but you’re doing a wonderful job.”

You had no idea she noticed your teaching endeavors, though you should have known. She kept tabs on just about everyone and everything in your place of work. “Oh, wow. Uh, thanks.” You weren't sure what to say, not knowing if it was a compliment or simply an astute observation.

“Don’t thank me. Just keep doing what you’re doing. He’s lucky to have someone like you fighting for him.”

You smiled now, basking in the unmistakable praise. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you posted.”

“I’m gonna make another cup of coffee. You want some?” She stood from her seat, eyeing you as she awaited your answer.

“Nah, I'm good.” You shook your head, remembering that it wasn’t even noon and you’d already indulged in a few.

You absentmindedly scrolled through your phone as she busied herself with brewing a fresh pot. There wasn’t much to look at, so you opened the newspaper before you. You flipped through the pages, skimming some of the articles, then landed on the crossword section.

You’d been into word games lately, mostly playing apps on your phone, but you'd take advantage of the physical version today. Until Janine joined you two this would occupy your time. By the time the coffee was done brewing, you’d finished most of the puzzle but found yourself stuck.

“Blank Hurts, quarterback for the Philadelphia Eagles.” You read it more times than you could count before releasing a huff. It was the last answer you needed to complete the puzzle, and it was putting you through the wringer.

Melissa came to retrieve her creamer from the fridge and caught a glimpse of what you were doing. She squinted to get a closer look at the small print before pulling her glasses over her eyes. As soon as she read it, the answer was clear. She could only chuckle while watching you struggle. You were a Philly native, so to her, it was amusing that you didn’t know the players on your home team. When your huffing and puffing continued, she couldn’t bear the sound any longer.

“Jalen.” She uttered from behind you, solving your short-lived distress.

You glanced over your shoulder and met with the sight of her—arms crossed over her chest, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, and a grin tugging at her lips.

“Huh?”

Her heeled boots thumped against the linoleum flooring as she came into your direct line of vision. It wasn’t long before she stood next to you, mere centimeters away.

When she spoke again, her manicured finger was pointed at your phone. “Jalen Hurts. That’s the answer.”

You almost couldn’t process the words she spoke. Your senses were taken over by her amber perfume, the sweet, warm undertones paired well with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. After gaining enough resolve to write, you jot letters into the spaces.

She retreated to the other side of the room before you could say anything else, but quickly returned with a surprise. She slid a steaming cup of coffee across the table, propelled by a gentle hand. “You’ve got to be the only person who doesn’t know who that is.”

You frowned, but it was impossible to argue with her. Football was the least interesting sport in your opinion. Mainly because you didn’t understand a thing that was going on. “We can’t all be connoisseurs like you.”

“It’s common knowledge, hon.”

“Okay, Vince Lombardi,” you teased, referring to the woman as one of the NFL greats. That much you knew. “Thanks for the answer–and the coffee.”

“You owe me, big time,” she joked. “I made it how I like mine. If you think it’s gross feel free to toss it.”

“Are you crazy? I’d never waste a cup of caffeine.” Especially one you made for me, you wanted to add, but didn't thanks to your better judgment.

You sipped the warm beverage as you thought about your little interaction. It took a minute or two for your brain to reset to its previous level of performance. The organ worked double time to get her out of your head, but she managed to make a lasting image.

She was a woman of details, always so well put together. The all-black outfit paired with her array of gold jewelry was a classy, yet powerful choice. Her makeup was done perfectly, and her green eyes were adorned with the sharpest winged liner you'd ever seen. Striking red hair followed suit, strands curled neatly with color-coordinated cat-eye frames resting atop her head, giving the impression of an effortless blowout. She had a certain je ne sais quoi about her that intrigued you to no end.

You glanced over your shoulder once you heard the door swinging open. Janine walked in and smiled as she saw you and Melissa. She waltzed over to the table and her skirt flowed graciously behind her with the movement.

“Hi, guys!” She greeted the two of you. “Guess who caught up on all their grading?”

You exchanged hellos and excitement for the teacher as she made her way to the fridge. When she rounded the table with her snack, she stood firmly beside you and playfully nudged your shoulder.

“Whatcha doing?” she asked as she began to eat.

“Nothing much,” you sighed, “I just finished this crossword.”

“Oh, you did the one on the paper! I always did that as a kid.” She shared, smiling at the memory. She knew you were on a crossword kick recently and that you completed multiple every day.

“There was a clue on there about football, which I know nothing about.”

“That makes both of us.” She laughed before sitting in the seat next to you. “I may know a little more than you, though. At least I know what the players look like.”

“I know what some of them look like!” And by some, you meant none, but Janine already knew that. “Melissa helped me though.” You nod your head toward the woman's direction.

Janine looked at you with a glint taking over her eye that only you could read. You knew she was making a mental note to ask about the interaction later when it was just you and her.

“Oh! Melissa.” Janine smiled as she said her name, elongating the ending. “Are you ready for game night?”

Janine had planned a bonding activity for the teachers, like she did occasionally, in hopes that it would help everyone destress from their busy schedules.

“I’m ready to kick all your butts. Again.” Melissa was undefeated in a few games and took pride in that.

“Someone’s cocky,” Janine glanced at you.

“Nuh uh,” she waved her finger around. “It’s called confidence. Maybe if youse had more of it, you’d be able to beat me.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t play to win,” Janine stated with a satisfied smile. She always claimed that she was only there to have a good time, which in return received an eye roll from everyone.

“Yeah, that’s what all the losers say.” She moved her hand in a circle to emphasize the word ‘all’. She then stood up and pushed her chair underneath the table. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I gotta go find a movie for my kids to watch.”

As soon as she heard the door close, Janine turned to look at it for confirmation that Melissa was out of earshot. “So, Melissa helped you with your crossword, huh?”

“Oh my gosh, Janine.” You chuckled at her insinuation, noting the toothy smile she displayed. She had an inkling that Melissa liked you, but that was an overstatement.

“What?” She looked at you quizzically, though she knew exactly what you were trying to say.

“Yeah, so?” You shrugged nonchalantly, keeping eye contact with her. “She also gave me some more advice regarding the situation with my student.”

A look of "I told you so" crossed the woman's face. “Didn't I say it'd be a good idea to ask her? You should listen to me more often.”

“And she may or may not have made coffee for me.” You casually brought the mug to your lips, eyes closing at the pleasant taste. By some supernatural powers, she had made school coffee enjoyable.

The teacher gasped and her hand clutched your arm, startling you a bit. “Really? Oh my gosh!”

“Janine, please,” you pulled your arm from her grip. “You’re acting like a child.”

“Oh, whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “You know you love it.”

Though you tried to stave off your giddy expression, you cracked. “Must you have to read into everything?”

“Only the things that matter. Like how you're drinking out of her favorite mug.” She pointed at the cup, noting the teal and black ombré design.

“Now you're just making stuff up.”

“Are you kidding me? You cannot be this oblivious!” There was no way she was reading too deep into things.

“It's not oblivion. I'm just being logical.”

“How far has that gotten you?” A hand popped over her hip as she quirked an eyebrow toward you.

“Oh, hush.” You pouted.

During your time at Abbott, you and Janine developed a special relationship. You were a first-year teacher and Janine was in her second year, so you bonded over being new to the field. Teaching was hard for you to navigate in the very beginning. While Janine was still fairly new to teaching, she had learned a lot and grown tremendously in her first year. She was very resourceful and she shared a lot of her tips and tricks with you. Whenever you felt your insecurities getting the best of you, she would always be there to pick you up.

Because the two of you had become so close, she knew how you felt about Melissa. Janine was very attentive, and you couldn’t get anything past her. She could tell that being around Melissa made you nervous. It wasn’t because you were intimidated by her—you had gotten over that feeling within the first few months of working with her. You were drawn to her tough nature and how the energy shifted when she walked into a room. She was intelligent and had a great personality once you broke through her icy exterior.

Since the beginning of the year, all you wanted was to impress her, but every time you tried, you just embarrassed yourself. For a while, you weren’t sure why you cared so much. You didn’t know why what she thought mattered until you came to a conclusion halfway through the school year. It all mattered because you liked her. It was a strange thing to come to terms with, but you decided to let the feelings run their course. There was no harm in that, right?

“She's just in a good mood today. I’m 99% sure she sees me as the kid that teaches the same grade as her.”

“That’s not true,” Janine assured you, but she knew how Melissa could be. The woman had to warm up to you before she showed her true colors.

“It is and you know it.” You said affirmatively.

“She’ll come around.” She spoke as if she knew something you didn't.

You looked at her with doubtful eyes and you could see her facial expression change as she thought of an idea. Uh oh.

“I could put you and her on the same team tonight,” Janine said in a sing-songy voice. “Name a better way to get her to warm up to you.” She waited for you to answer, but you were heavily against this. Janine was the proud organizer of game night, which meant she was in charge of making the teams.

“I could actually think of several, much better ways.” You enlightened her. “She would eat me alive if we lost.” You were not competitive, and you knew winning was important to Melissa.

“Oh, come on, Y/N!” Janine practically whined. “It’ll be fine.”

“No.” You said firmly, standing from your chair as you noticed the time. You had to retrieve your kids from the art teacher in five minutes. Janine followed your lead and walked out of the lounge trailing behind you. You couldn’t even see her and you knew that she was sulking.

“Quit doing that.” You laughed, looking in the direction of the shorter woman. “It’s not gonna make me say 'yes'.”

“But–” She started but was cut off within seconds.

You whipped around to face her. “Remember what happened at the last game night? When you made her draw eight cards during Uno?”

Janine didn't answer though she knew exactly what you were talking about.

“Don't worry, I’ll refresh your memory. She ended up losing and didn’t speak to you for weeks. Weeks! I can't risk that.”

Janine ended up getting the victory and despite that, it was not a good night for her. “It’s fine, now.” Granted, she wasn't sure if it was, but it seemed like it.

“No. I refuse to let her give me the cold shoulder because of you.” It wasn't even about the crush at this point. You worked closely with her and wanted nothing to compromise that. Besides, she could hold a grudge like her life depended on it.

“Fine, I won’t do it.” Janine relented, though it seriously pained her. She believed wholeheartedly that she could shift the dynamic between you and Melissa.

Though she was defeated, something told you she wasn’t letting go. “Thank you,” you said before heading in the opposite direction to pick up your class.

“But let me know if you change your mind!” She added as you walked away.

That statement alone made you less confident in her ability to leave it alone. Though she meant no harm, she was hopeless. You knew she'd be fighting tooth and nail not to go against her word. Of course, she wanted to honor your wishes, but once she was set on a plan there was no going back.

Sure, Fridays were a fan favorite, but something told you this one would be the death of you.

A/N: Hello, Hello! This is just a little something to start your week off right. It's been sitting in my drafts for a while and I wanted to get it out. Also, part two of Kiss It Better is on the way! Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #sugarᥫ᭡writes

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csuitebitches · 1 year

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How To Make Full Use of Networking Events

Networking events and conferences are great because you get to meet and learn from experts but also connect with peers. I recently attended one and I wanted to share things I wish I had done before and what I learned.

1. Define an Objective

You have to determine why exactly you want to go to the event. Are you looking for a career change? A job? Advice on how to be better at your current job? How to tackle some issues in your start up? Networking? Make a list of the reasons.

2. Research

You need to research the speakers extensively. Go over their Wikipedias, LinkedIns and other social medias. Read their company websites from top to bottom. If they’ve released a book, take a look at the summary and read the reviews. Read some of their published articles.

Take this time to prepare at least 3 questions per speaker. Try to make at unique and interesting as possible, don’t ask the usual generic ones.

3. Business Cards

Definitely carry business cards. Make sure that your email, LinkedIn is mentioned clearly. Even if you work at a different company, that doesn’t matter- show your job title on the business card. Better yet, ask your HR if they can give you business cards as you would be promoting their company through your event. If you’re a student, I’d recommend you make a portfolio website of your internships/ project/ past work/ volunteer work/ hobbies/ interests.

4. Actually Talking

During the event, don’t be shy to ask questions. It doesn’t matter whether the rest of the audience thinks they’re stupid. You have spent your money to come there for your gain. Make full use of it. Ask questions. Meet the speaker after the event. Thank them for the insight, introduce yourself, ask them questions related to your objective of coming to the conference. Exchange business cards.

5. Utilising Coffee Breaks

Coffee and lunch breaks are a great way to talk to people. You may feel shy or awkward to talk to new people, but there’s very high chances that they feel the same way. You can start off by asking someone how they heard about the event, what they thought of the speaker, or pass a remark on the question they asked the speaker. Keep in mind that if the event has multiple speakers, there could be a chance that you’re talking to a speaker, even if you don’t recognise them… so be on your best behaviour.

6. Questions

Ask questions that are beneficial to you. During my conference, we had a women-leaders panel. An audience member asked the speakers how they divided their work between family and work. The speakers looked visibly annoyed at the question - because how generic is that?

Ask questions that could help you grow. If you’re in marketing, ask about their tried and tested marketing strategies. If you’re an early stage founder, ask them how they sourced their VC. If you’re struggling with time management, ask the speakers how they manage. Ask the questions for YOUR own benefit.

You can ask difficult questions but make sure you do it respectfully and tactfully. Best to start with a compliment and then ease into the question.

7. Dressing

Business casual, unless mentioned otherwise. What this means: blazer/ jackets/ trousers/ pencil skirts/ shirt/ co-ord sets/ no sneakers.

It doesn’t matter what other people wear. The way you present yourself is your brand. It also shows the respect you have for the other person - you respect them enough to not come shabbily dressed.

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hazelsmirrorball · 6 months

Text

The Bodyguard | Hazel Callahan

summary: Hazel Callahan has a love-hate relationship with her bodyguard, Y/n. pairings: Fem!Bodyguard reader x Rockstar!Hazel Warnings: English isn’t my main language so excuse any errors. a/n: watched bottoms again with my mom! She couldn’t understand a word because she isn’t that good in english. Hope you guys like it!

Y/n stepped out of the venue escorting Hazel Callahan out with her hand resting firmly on her lower back. Both of them headed towards the tour bus so they could finally end their long night. That was Y/n’s job, keeping sensational rockstar Hazel Callahan safe away from harm's way, not being in annoying phone calls about her boss’s attitude. Y/n held onto Hazel’s bag while she pinched her phone between her shoulder and her ear, attending a conference meeting with Hazel’s team.

She stopped in her tracks as she let out a sigh, nodding at the words coming out of the phone. Y/n quickly removed her hand from Hazel back to rub her temples clearly annoyed out of her mind. Hazel followed her actions noticing that her footsteps had stopped. She turned around to face Y/n with an exhausted look on her face. She had been doing shows back to back, getting little to no sleep. All she wanted to do was go to bed and rest. But she was grateful that Y/n decided to take the meeting knowing that she couldn’t hear the bitching voice of her manager telling her what she did wrong the night before. Hazel’s eyes tried searching for Y/n’s but it was useless due to the black sunglasses that rested on her nose.

Y/n could feel the anticipation bottling up in her chest as she and the person in the other line let out an exhausted sigh. It felt like the short conference call had turned into a serious two hour meeting revolving around Hazel's attitude. Things weren’t looking good for Hazel and even though she worked for her she still deeply cared about her.

“Yes. I’m aware of everything that’s happening, sir. I’ve been keeping an eye on her. I promise you guys she will be on her best behavior. As of now, I will need to hang up so she gets safely to her next destination. I’ll keep in touch. She’ll be at the meeting at eight am sharp. Good Night.” Y/n hung up the phone, slipping it into her back pocket while recomposing herself. “Hazel, where do you want to ea… Shit!” Y/n exclaimed a river of curse words following as she took in her surroundings, noticing that Hazel had slipped from her eyesight.

The cold winter breeze hit her body, making her shiver. Y/n regretted only wearing her uniform, her black suit didn’t do anything for her in the cold weather. Why Hazel wanted her to wear a stereotypical body suit uniform was beyond her but right now that should be the least of her worries. It was around one am in the morning and Hazel’s show had just finished an hour and half ago. Both of the girls were standing outside of the venue waiting for the crowd of fans to disappear so she could get her safe and sound to the tour bus not before stopping for some food. Y/n was never distracted but after receiving an urgent call from Hazel's manager she had moved her eyes away from her one second, but that was all Hazel needed to slip out of her hold.

Y/n L/n had known Hazel Callahan ever since she started her music career. Both of them were around the same age but Hazel had insisted she felt more comfortable with a body guard around her age. So night after night she would stand near Hazel to guarantee her safety but quite recently things had changed. Y/n’s job had become harder adding more responsibilities to her job that were never in her contract. She had become not only Hazel’s bodyguard but her assistant. Hazel had entered her “Frat boy” era or at least that’s what the PR management had informed Y/n.

Y/n was tired. Tired of having to drag a drunk or high Hazel out of the bar. Having to wait outside of the hotel room while she hooked up with a random stranger. But most importantly she was tired of having to deal with her management. They wanted Hazel to be perfect and all her little hiccups all lead to Y/n, because she wasn’t “mature” enough to control her. Yet there she was doing her job while attempting to save what was left of Hazel’s reputation doing her management work. She couldn’t even think of the last time she had a vacation. She didn’t mind having Hazel close, she actually enjoyed her presence but the past months she was acting like a brat and she couldn’t stand it anymore.

Y/n moved quickly on her feet going to God’s knows where as she gripped on Hazel’s bag. Pissed off out of her mind she could see the flashing red lights from afar. Her once chill demeanor turned into a rough glare as she stomped towards the bar near the venue. As she pulled the door open she could see Hazel dancing in the middle up the dance floor with someone with a drink tightly gripped on her hand. She left her for about an hour. How was it possible that she was already fucked out of her mind. Y/n pushed up her sunglasses to see better with the flashing lights as she slipped through the drunken bodies.

“Y/n, you finally decided to join the fun! I thought you were going to stay outside doing boring things. I’m really glad you're here. Here try my drink, you’re going to love it” Hazel said quickly losing her attention on the girl next to her leaning towards Y/n to push the drink towards her lips. Y/n moved her hand away, taking the drink out of Hazel’s hand making her pout. Before Hazel could even say another word Y/n took her hand pushing past the people surrounding them.

“Let’s go before someone recognizes you and gets the both of us in trouble.” Y/n said but before she could reach the door, the sea of people split them up. Hazel’s drunk body hit someone else spilling their drink. Hazel’s hands quickly tried to dry the owner's shirt and mutter a river of apologies but before she could do anything else the owner of the drink pulled Hazel by the shirt. Y/n attempted to pushed past the excited people trying to see what was the hold up.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“Nothing! You're the one that’s fucking gripping on my shirt. Do you know how expensive this shirt is? It’s literally worth more than your own life so do me a favor and let go of me. Do you even know how I am? Your dirty little han…” and with those words escaping Hazel’s lips, she quickly found herself on the floor with a bloody nose and a throbbing pain in her left eye. Y/n once again pushed through the people shielding Hazel’s face from the cameras not wanting her to be in the news the next day. She quickly got her on her feet quickly reaching the door.

“Miss Callahan, do you know what time it.. Are you insane? Going to a bar? Getting into a fight? You have your team working hard as it is but now? No, you know what, I'll ask you a better question: are you aware of who you are?” Y/n said seriously when they finally got out of the small bar. Hazel scoffed, rolling her eyes at Y/n.

“Of course I know who I am, Y/n. I’m a fucking star and I deserve to have fucking fun. I’m not a machine and management needs to get that through their thick skulls.” Hazel muttered as she stomped angrily towards the tour bus. Y/n followed her steps closely not wanting to lose her again.

“Let’s just go to the tour bus, you have a long day ahead of you and now you’ll have to deal with a hangover.” Y/n responded softly trying to put her hand once again on her lower back. Hazel quickly moved, pushing her hand away, her steps being quicker and stronger than before.

“You sound just like them. I thought you were on my side, but all I see now is you bitching and moaning. What happened with the Y/n that actually enjoyed spending time with me? The one that actually liked doing her job? You act like being with me is a burden, do you think I’m dumb enough to not notice?” Y/n followed her steps closely not wanting to lose her again.

“With all the respect. I’ve defended you relentlessly with your managers, I’ve protected you with my life, Hazel. I put your needs before me. Have you noticed that I don’t have a social life because I’m twenty four seven with you? I’ve done everything to keep your career intact. Ask your other celebrities friends what fucking body guard stays outside of their fucking hotel room so they could have a quick fuck? Don’t compare me to the management team that doesn’t care about your well being. I’m not going to fight with you, Callahan. I’m just doing my job.” Y/n responded in her calm tone as both of them continued walking towards the bus. Hazel laughed sarcastically as she pushed her hair out of her eyes.

“You are acting as if we aren’t friends, Y/n why are you being like this now? Is it because you're jealous that everyone can have me and you can’t? Ever since I started what the stupid pr calls my “frat boy” era you become a bitch. I’m sorry that you don’t get laid, maybe it’s because of your lack of personality. ” Hazel yelled once again, turning around to face Y/n. Hazel quickly fell when she heard the words that slipped out of her mouth instantly regretting it. Her eyes follow Y/n’s body watching as she opens the tour bus door.

“Get in. You have a meeting at eight am and you’re not going to miss it.” Y/n replied dryly wanting for her to enter the tour bus. Hazel’s feet felt as if they were glued onto the floor not being able to move.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I really didn’t mean it! Please don’t quit” Hazel said quickly knowing that half of her staff had left her already and she couldn’t bear losing Y/n.

“Callahan, whatever we have is professional. We aren’t friends so whatever you say doesn’t affect me whatsoever. I need this job. So get it”

Hazel knew that after tonight things were going to be different and she hated herself for that.

...

Thank you for reading

#hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan bottoms #hazel x reader #hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #imagines #ruby cruz #bottoms movie #kit tanthalos #kit tanthalos x reader #ruby cruz x reader #wlw #lesbian #rockstar! hazel #pj bottoms #hazel bottoms #josie bottoms #bottoms movie 2023 #bottoms hazel

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writefightandflightclub · 3 months

Text

Sugar

Grad student!Nathan Bateman x older!fem!reader

Author’s note: I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS CONCEPT TBH BUT DON’T WANT TO GIVE SPOILERS SO WARNINGS ARE NON-EXHAUSTIVE. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK I GUESS? (As ever, minors DNI, thank you!) And I blame Oscar at MEFCC in the black polo and @nowritingonthewall’s hc of young!Nathan sneaking into tech conferences for this one. (I’m imagining him as getting towards his mid twenties here.)

Word count: just a short one!

Warnings: power / wealth imbalance, and slight warning for dub-con due to this. Sexual touching (slightly public). Infidelity. Alcohol consumption (reader). As mentioned above, warnings are non-exhaustive this time to avoid spoilers. If you do need further info, however, you are welcome to DM or send an ask.

“Not touching the oysters?” Nathan asks in as suave a tone as he can muster. The only oyster he’s personally sampled, so far, is the oyster sauce at his favourite downtown take-out.

Your plate of extravagant buffet food is discarded next to you, however, as you pore over a stack of documents at the hotel bar, a martini in a tall, flared glass languishing in your free hand.

You whip your head towards Nathan and look him up and down; as though deciding whether he’s worth the time of day, or whether you should immediately summon security to remove him from your field of vision. You seem to find him relatively inoffensive, at least, and grant him permission to remain in your orbit; for now. You hum contemplatively. “Decided I’ve had my fill of vile sensations for today,” you announce in a cool, assured tone. “I had to fuck my husband this morning. Twice.”

Nathan emits a low whistle. As much as he tries to take it in his stride - to act like he’s accustomed to affluent, worldly, cut-throat women like you - he isn’t. Honestly, he’s barely accustomed to anyone at all lately, since he’s immersed himself entirely in getting his start-up off the ground.

You’re older. Older than him, at least. Older than any woman he’s been with so far, he can’t help but think. That, along with your candidness, is refreshing. You’re not all giggly and earnest and chaotic like the young women he’s met around campus - which sounds far less exhausting to him, if he’s honest.

He looks you up and down in return. And, yeah. Shit. He definitely wants to fuck you.

“He doesn’t get you off?” Nathan asks, crude and casual, as though he has any business asking. However, he’s found that a complete disregard for social norms can -oddly- sometimes pan out in his favour. Sometimes. Besides, on this occasion he has to risk it, or social norms would dictate that he shouldn’t approach you at all. At least not before he’s in possession of an invitation-only credit card, or, has made a hard-to-come by appointment via your PA at the very least.

You take a sip of your drink and eye him over the brim. He likes that move. Your eyes are full of deliciously dark amusement as you appraise him. He thinks you may even like what you see. Might even find him refreshing too. “Well. It’s not love - or anything else so impractical. It’s strictly a business arrangement,” you explain, as though you have been waiting for an opportunity to vent and no-one has actually bothered to ask you. “He pays for my lifestyle and I put out. And occassionally have to, you know, run his fucking company, attend boring conferences to schmooze his investors, and generally mask his total ineptitude.” You gesture around you vaguely. From the tiredness in your tone, it makes sense that you’re hiding out in this deserted hotel bar, Nathan thinks.

He knows fine well who your husband is too. A guy many, many years your senior. Obscenely rich fucker too. CEO and founder of a huge ass telecoms company, recently diversified into various markets across the tech world. The company is running an agressive acquisition policy, buying out start-ups and hoping to find something that sticks. The “next big thing”. It hasn’t succeeded yet. Projections look mediocre at best.

Nathan, who very much considers his innovation the “next big thing” - the only game in town - had tried to corner your husband at the end of his rather lacklustre panel. After all, he’d done his research. Had identified the highest value targets he could network with in attempts to drum up some investment. He is trying to bolster his sorely under-funded start-up… which, if he is honest, has barely even “started” at all. He knows the tech. The code. He’s a certified genius, for God’s sake. He was just a fool for thinking that that alone would be enough. Frustratingly for him, it’s the schmoozing and understanding of the cold realities of the business world he struggles with. He seems to rub people up the wrong way, for some reason. Probably because they’re all assholes. Or, maybe, because they view him as too young or too rough around the edges to know what he’s talking about. Or, most likely, because they’re uninspired bastards incapable of comprehending his world-changing vision. Maybe all of the above.

So much then, for the supposed merits of the free market and the idea that the best ideas will prosper. His idea is the best, and he’s floundering simply because his daddy can’t buy him his way in. Instead of a reliance on the strength of the product, networks and power and money and nepotism appear to be king in this world. And, Nathan possesses none of these advantages. Even with the buzz around him at his faculty, and his full ride scholarship at 17 for being a fucking genius.

Anyway, after a failed attempt to schmooze your asshole husband, Nathan had quickly put together that the guy didn’t have a goddamn clue. That you were the brains (and beauty, by the way) behind the operation, and he was likely little more than the funds.

Also, the guy definitely didn’t seem like he’d be a pleasant fuck, by any stretch.

He grimaces somewhat at the thought.

“That’s what they say isn’t it?” You take a breezy sip of your drink. “Fake it until you make it? They’re talking about orgasms, sweetheart, and my last performance paid for these shoes.” You kick out your appealing leg, your shins bare and smooth beneath your pencil skirt, and you briefly show off your shiny, black, red-soled heels.

They’re nice. Sexy, on you.

Nathan briefly wonders why you’re being so forthcoming with him, a complete stranger; but you don’t strike him as someone who gives a shit in the slightest what other people think. You also strike him as someone who can make people think whatever you want them to think. One day, he hopes to have as much power over a room as you do - and that’s for starters.

He slips into the bar stool beside you then, uninvited, and you scoff. “Are you even old enough to drink, baby face?”

He bristles at that, thick brows pinching and nods slowly, peeking at you from over the brim of his glasses, his own eyes now dancing with a subtle, dark amusement.

You’ve already turned away though. It frustrates him that he can’t entirely hold your attention.

“Nathan Bateman. Student, MIT.” You gesture to his name tag with a perfectly manicured finger, and without looking back up from your stack of documents.

Now, Nathan glumly reassesses his earlier conclusion. You are being forthcoming because it really doesn’t matter what he, specifically, thinks. Because you’ve already estimated that he’s the guy in the room with least influence. For now, at least. You’ll see. “Better to check. Especially before you start hitting on me.”

He swallows. “Is that what you think’s happening?” Shit. Do you want that to happen?

“Isn’t it?”

He’d make some dig about you flattering yourself. But he knows fine well it’s the most likely reason any hot-blooded guy would be sidling up to you. You’re hot and unobtainable; which makes you even hotter.

Nathan watches as you idly spin your wedding band around and around. He’s surprised you can even lift your arm with that rock attached. When he notices it, he wants to fuck you even more than he did before, but he definitely can’t afford you.

“Actually. I wanted to pick your brains on something. You seem the kinda person who knows a good idea when she sees one.” Unlike the other idiots at this conference who’ve refused to give him the time of day. Maybe he should reconsider his pitch.

You scoff, still not looking up at him. “Honey,” you deliver in a silken, condescending tone, which he is surprised to learn makes him half-hard in his pants. “I charge for that too, and I get the feeling I’m a little beyond your budget.”

“Call it corporate social responsibility then. Supporting the students.”

“Sweetheart. I pay someone else to do that sort of thing for me.”

“Okay.” He takes it in his stride. Wants to show he isn’t fazed by you, even if he is. “Then I guess I am hitting on you. Unless that’s gonna cost me.”

You finally turn back towards him. Look him up and down again as if to remind yourself exactly what you’re dealing with. You study his cheap suit and his mop of curls and his freshly grown-out beard, and he is surprised how exhilarating he finds it to be under your scope.

Your lips curl with subtle amusement, your gaze growing downright wolfish as you survey him.

Fucking unreal.

You look like could eat him up and spit him out. Or… you could swallow, he fantasises briefly, gaze dipping down to your plush mouth.

You do like what you’re seeing, don’t you? Are intrigued by him. Finally. He encounters someone with some good sense.

“What’s it like?” he delivers with a smirk, feeling a resurgence of his familiar confidence as he successfully holds your attention.

You eyeball his fit again. “What? Tailoring?”

He bristles at your dig, but again, aims to present an unbothered exterior. “No. I mean.” His palm waves through the air. “Being a sugar baby.”

You tut at him. “Why, are you interested in a position?”

He arcs a single, thick brow. “I could be.”

“I don’t think my husband’s recruiting. Unless you want a 60-hour a week unpaid internship with zero healthcare and no dental.”

“No. I mean that…” His tie feels awfully constrictive around his neck all of a sudden. This is a bold move but… you have to speculate to accumulate, right? “…I could be yours.”

You clearly weren’t expecting that. And, as much as you try to pass-off that you’re used to jumped-up, cocky little shits like him offering to be your sugar baby, he can plainly see it throws you for a moment. Still, you compose yourself beautifully in no time at all. “I already have one man who saps my time and comes in two minutes flat. What would make you any different, honey?”

Nathan offers you a lopsided smile, opting not to contain the dark, lust-blown gaze smouldering behind his lenses. What does he have to offer, exactly, in this scenario? He purses his lips while he thinks, and then he lands on it: “I’m… hot.”

You look him up and down again, conceding - with a tilt of your head - that his argument is at least halfway compelling. “Hmm. Do you imagine, though, that I struggle for offers from hot, younger men?”

“Not in the slightest. You’re gorgeous.” And rich. “But I think you can do better.”

“Better like you? What makes you so special?” You’re having fun with this. He can tell from the glow in your eyes and the curve of your appealing mouth.

He offers you his best smoulder. It isn’t hard - there’s an easy chemistry between the two of you, he thinks. “There are things I don’t give away for free either.”

“Well,” you ask, leaning in close to him and cupping his chin firmly in your hand as you dip your painted lips towards the shell of his ear. “If I was to take you up on your very generous offer… What pretty things would you want me to buy you with the money, baby boy?”

Fuck. You smell good.

You smell edible, and his suit pants definitely fit far less well than they did when he donned them this morning. In fact, they’re getting increasingly tight around his crotch as his arousal swells for you.

With a tight swallow dipping down his neck and a rare nervous sweat dampening his shirt, he twists to gather some documents out of his backpack. You scrape your nails down his beard as he turns out of reach, and fuck, you’re doing it for him.

Then, gathering his cool, entering the domain he is expert in and is sure of, he flips to the page on costings in his business plan, sliding it across the bar to you.

He gives you a moment to study the text. The list of the equipment, personnel, marketing budgets and so on he needs to realise his rather extensive ambitions. Then, he leans in to you in return as you pore over his plan. He dips his mouth until his beard is tickling the shell of your ear.

“This would be a good start… Mommy.”

As you look back at him with a dark, lust-laden stare, looking as hungry as he feels, he wonders if he might leave this conference with some start-up funds after all.

If this comes off, then… fuck. He hopes you are as ferocious in the bedroom as it strikes him you are in other areas.

Your head is angled towards him, your lips parted in mild surprise. Your gaze briefly dips to the tenting arousal between his legs, and he doesn’t even attempt to hide it.

He has no idea where this will lead; but that’s the fun, isn’t it? Nathan is rather fond of experiments.

A hard swallow dips down your neck and you cross your legs, pressing your thighs together as you take in the substantial swell of him.

You gather a smile, and your composure. “Your business plan looks impressive, Nathan.” His name sounds good in your mouth. He wonders how his cock might feel in there too.

You hand the documents back to him, and you quickly gather up your things, slinging your stack of documents under one arm. With the other, you reach out your hand, offering it to him to shake. He obliges. “I’m certain we could come to some sort of… arrangement.” You free a business card from the holder in your tote and slip it gracefully into his top pocket.

He’s a little disappointed it isn’t your hotel room key, if he’s honest. He’d love to work on his current… problem… right away. “When would you like to… discuss things further?” he asks, as you dangle the promise in front of him.

“You’ll have to make an appointment with my PA,” you dismiss with a smirk. However, you seem keen to guarantee that he does. You’ll be fun to play with, Nathan thinks. “Will you do that for me, Nathan?”

He thinks about it. Decides it’s a no-brainer. “Yes.”

To his surprise, you then reach your hand down towards his crotch, pausing before you touch him and allowing him opportunity to protest. He doesn’t. And so, you settle your palm over the aching bulge between his legs. The warmth of you bleeds through the fabric, and Nathan struggles not to react to the pressure you apply, managing to limit himself to a ragged intake of breath. His eyes flutter shut, lashes fanning against his cheek. When he opens them again, he half expects his glasses to have steamed up.

“Yes, what?” you purr, giving him an abrupt squeeze.

“Y-yes, Mommy,” he stutters, almost choking on his words, and with that, you look very satisfied indeed.

He wagers, from the expression on your face, that you’ll definitely be motivated to seal the deal.

You sweep out and Nathan watches your ass sway in that tight pencil skirt as you go.

Fucking unreal.

#nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman #Oscar Isaac

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bokutizer · 7 months

Note

more of dada's so pwetty pweaseeee 🥺

dada’s pwetty! pt.2

Includes : Kuroo, Bokuto Summary : Just a few daughters being enchanted by their dadas' looks Tags : fem!reader, fluff, domestic bliss A/n : I don't like the way Bokuto's turned out but... anyways. pt. 1

Whether it is a conversation between you and KUROO, the talking pigs on the TV or any other source that can show your two year old daughter the vast ocean of vocabulary: she loves parroting words that catch her attention. A habit that she has only recently picked up and that makes her jump and dance around your house, repeating the newly learned word like a broken record tape. Today's word is sponsored by the elderly lady next door who told the two year old that her polka dotted dress was very "pretty", when you two came back from a walk to the nearby park a few hours ago. Since then, you don't think there is a single thing in the household that she has not baptized as "pwetty!". Actually, there is something. Or rather someone. Someone who has been rotting in his home office all day long, writing and answering emails, and attending one video conference after the other because of an important upcoming sports event.

The creaking door of his office catches Kuroo's attention and he immediately feels a little wave of serotonin flow through him at the sight of his little girl. Her dark pigtails swing back and forth as she skips over to him with a bright smile on her face. "Hey there, sweetheart." Kuroo coos after having silenced his microphone, pulling her up on his lap. "Daddy's almost finished, and then we can have dinner togeth-" "Dada's pwetty!" her cheerful and loud voice interrupts him. Her dada is clearly taken aback, but lets out a breathy chuckle once he lets her words sink in. "Is he now?" he playfully taps her nose with his forefinger before readjusting her on his lap to press a wet smooch against her cheek. "Well, I think you are way, way, wayyy prettier than your dada." Both of them keep giggling and fooling around until they hear someone clear their throat. "I think we should end this call here. I'll email you further details." Kuroo hears one of his colleagues speak, and when he dares to look over to his screen, he notices how somehow all of them are... smiling? Some of them even wave which your daughter happily reciprocates. And upon further inspection, Kuroo notices a little detail that makes him smile bashfully before ending the call. He could swear he turned the microphone off?

Your daughter is a ray of sunshine, obviously taking after BOKUTO. She's a curious child, loves exploring the world especially when she knows that her parents are right behind her, supporting her through every teeny tiny step of hers. Now, when it comes to her looks she's a carbon copy of you, but her personality? The way she interacts with others, how she perceives people's feelings, how she handles her own emotions (she doesn't know how to handle them)- Yep, she's definitely Koutarou's offspring.

It's a quiet Sunday evening, with you enjoying a warm bath and your husband and daughter sitting on the floor and playing in her room. Various glittery hair clips and pink bows adorn the volleyball player’s peppered hair, and while he’s sure that he must look awfully ridiculous right now, the excited and self-sufficient grin that his daughter is offering him right now is definitely more than worth it. “And- it’s done!” she beams, finishing the look with a final butterfly-shaped clip to get her dad’s bangs out of his face. “Daddy, you look like a mermaid!” Bokuto gasps, his excited expression mirroring that of his daughter when he catches a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the window. “You’re so pretty!” “No.” he smiles brightly, his chest feeling so full of love for this little bundle of joy. “You’re pretty.”

A giggle sounds through the room when he leans over to tickle her before hoisting her up in his arms. “No, you’re pretty.” your daughter counters, her voice a tad more serious than before. “No, you.” Her nose scrunches irritatedly when her dad boops it, not minding how seriously she’s taking their discussion. “No, you!” And after countless back and forth, Bokuto’s eyes widen when she starts sniffling and her lower lip trembling. “Okay, okay, daddy’s pretty! I’m pretty, yeah?” he embraces her tighter while panically looking around the room as if seeking your help, knowing very well that you’re probably still in the bathroom. “No crying, pumpkin, ‘kay?” And while cradling her against him, lightly swaying from side to side, and watching his little girl’s drooping eyes, it’s obvious, and he has to admit also a little funny, that her distress was clearly caused by exhaustion. Though, he still believes that she’s the pretty one out of the both of them, even with her puffy eyes and snot running out of her nose, staining his shirt.

#this has been sitting so long in my drafts help #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #hq kuroo #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo testuro #kuroo haikyuu #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo fluff #kuroo drabble #haikyuu bokuto #koutarou bokuto #bokuto #hq bokuto #bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou #bokuto fluff #bokuto kōtarō #bokuto drabble

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makethatelevenrings · 2 years

Text

Kryptonians and French Tarts // J. Todd x gn!reader

Requested? Yes! @afrolatinosuperfam

WARNINGS: mentions of injuries but nothing detailed

Summary: After being injured in a fight, you go to Wayne Manor to get some help watching Jon for the night. Luckily, a certain vigilante is also benched at home.

“Okay, you’re going to behave, right? No destroying priceless art. No antagonizing anyone. Respect Mr. Pennyworth,” your mother dictated as she led the procession of your family towards the towering manor before you.

“Yeah, yeah.” You adjusted your little brother on your hip and flashed your mom an innocent smile. “No letting Jon turn into Jack Jack from the Incredibles.”

Your mom let out a quiet “you’re going to be the death of me” as she climbed the stairs to the front door. It swung open before she could knock, revealing Mr. Pennyworth.

“Miss Lane, Mx. Y/N, young Mister Jon,” he greeted. “I trust the drive from Metropolis went well.”

“Yes, Alfred. Thank you so much for doing this.” By “this”, she meant giving you and Jon a place to stay in Gotham while she attended a journalism conference. Your dad and Uncle Bruce were off at the watchtower saving the world again while your other brother, Kon, was in San Francisco at Titans Tower, working on some case that Tim had found. Which left you and Jon all alone.

While this normally wouldn’t be a problem, you had experienced an unfortunate run in with some kryptonite on what would be a routine patrol of Metropolis. Lex Luthor had other plans, of course, and the kryptonite had knocked you through a building. Your father had appeared seconds later, dripping with righteous anger and rage, and Aunt Diana took care of the kryptonite. Unfortunately, your powers hadn’t fully developed yet so the healing process was taking longer than it would for Kon or your dad. Your parents didn’t want you and Jon to be alone in your apartment when he was still developing his powers and you were benched.

So, here you were at Wayne Manor with a superpowered baby brother who was currently squirming in an attempt to get out of your grasp. You sighed and leaned down to let Jon free, wincing at the ache in your ribs.

“Master Damian is in his room,” Alfred informed Jon. “I believe he mentioned something about introducing you to our new cow.”

“Sweet! Thanks, Alf!” Jon raced out of sight and you huffed out a laugh. That kid had boundless amounts of energy.

“Alright, I’m off. Be good. Behave. Don’t strain yourself,” your mom ordered. She wrapped her arm around your shoulders and dropped a kiss to your forehead. “Thanks again, Alfred.”

“It’s a pleasure, Miss Lane.” The door shut behind your mother and Alfred turned to you. “I have a new recipe I’ve been working on if you would like to assist me in the kitchen.”

You followed after him into the depths of the manor. You had been here plenty of times over the years, but it never failed to surprise you at the sheer size and ostentatious beauty of the place. It felt like something out of Pride and Prejudice when Lizzie toured through Pemberley.

“I was finally able to convince Beverly to share her french tart recipe,” Alfred explained. “It was as if she were hiding the code to Fort Knox. For someone who can barely create a passable mousse, I must begrudgingly admit defeat against her tarts.”

“You’re an honest man, Alfred Pennyworth.” You snagged one of the strawberries from the bowl he had set up on the counter. “How are the ladies?”

He launched into a detailed explanation of his knitting club and their recent exploits as the two of you blended, stirred, and sliced up ingredients for the tart. Once it was in the fridge to chill, Alfred sent you upstairs to check on the boys. You peaked your head into Damian’s room and found your little brother floating cross legged in the air, playing video games and chatting with the youngest Wayne who answered with a few grunts and hums. Like father, like son.

Slipping back out, you headed towards the library. The Wayne library never ceased to amaze you. The large floor to ceiling windows let in the perfect amount of light and looked out onto the gardens below. Books lined the towering shelves that used rolling ladders to get to them.

But as you got closer, you could hear that the library wasn’t empty and it was a familiar heartbeat that resounded in your ears.

“Todd,” you greeted the sprawled out figure on the couch. He lifted his gaze from the book in his hands and smirked.

“Alien,” he shot back. “I didn’t realize you would be here today.”

“Kon’s in San Fran with Tim, Dad’s with Bruce in space, and Mom’s at a conference,” you explained. “Someone had to watch Jon and bruised ribs don’t make it easy.”

He grimaced and shifted his legs to make space on the couch. You sat on the empty space and stretched out so you were lying parallel to him. Jason rested the book open faced on his broad chest and nudged your knee with his elbow.

“How did you bruise your ribs? I thought you were invincible.” A furrow appeared between his brows as he frowned. Jason had been a witness to your invincibility many times. The two of you had fought side by side whenever the Justice League was called in, leaving Gotham and Metropolis down a hero. While Batman hated metas in his city and your father disagreed with Red Hood’s methods, they both relented with the knowledge that their children were safer with the other helping.

The two times that Jason had called your name in an emergency had been heart stopping. You had never flown so fast to get to someone and the fear that clutched your throat when you found him bleeding out in an alley…

You shoved the thought aside and nudged him back with your knee. “Why are you here?”

“Got shot,” he said bluntly. “Alfred doesn’t let you leave the manor until seventy-two hours have passed. You never answered my question.”

“Luthor got his hands on kryptonite again and I didn’t see it coming until I was crashing through the sixteenth floor of a skyscraper.”

His jaw flexed as he clenched it. “And your dad hasn’t killed him yet…why?”

“I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but it would be really bad publicity if Superman killed a millionaire of one of the leading companies in the nation,” you quipped. “And before you get any smart ideas, no, the Red Hood cannot go and kill Lex Luthor.”

“I could make it look like an accident.”

“I’m sure you could.” You shifted on the couch to grab a blanket off of the back and winced at the pull on your sides. Instantly, he sat up and reached for the hem of your shirt. Jason pushed it up to see the bruising on your skin and he ghosted a hand over the injured area.

“We should get you some ice,” he murmured. “Have you taken any painkillers?”

“I’ll be fine,” you protested. “Seriously, Jay.”

“No, it’s not fine, Y/N. It’s one thing for me to be injured because I’m human. You aren’t supposed to have bruises. You’re supposed to be safe.”

The glow of green crept into his irises and you cupped his cheeks between your hands. Jason shut his eyes and breathed in deep and slow in an attempt to calm the Pit.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“I’m okay,” you assured him. You brushed his dark locks out of his face and ran the tips of your fingers along his forehead, temple, and then jaw. “Here.”

Taking his hand that rested over your bruised side, you raised it to rest against the steady beating of your heart. An almost imperceptible shudder ran through him at the feeling of your heartbeat and a smile curved at the corner of your lips.

“I’m fine.” You would have continued in your reassurances if he didn’t capture your lips in a searing kiss. You fisted a hand against his shirt and tangled your fingers in his short hair and deepened the kiss. He groaned into your touch and you could have sighed in relief. Finally, you thought. The two of you had been dancing around each other for months at this point.

Jason slowly lowered your back down against the couch, mindful of both of your injuries, and started to slide his hand up your shirt when your phone started ringing. The two of you broke apart just as the library doors flung open.

“Demon brat, go away,” Jason groaned. He rested his forehead against your shoulder as you snickered and answered your phone.

“Tell Todd that if he doesn’t get his hands off my child in the next five seconds, then he won’t have any hands,” your dad said in lieu of a greeting.

“What the hell were you doing to my sibling, Hood?” Kon’s voice sounded from down the hall.

“Were they making out? Ew, Kon, put me down before I puke,” Tim said. You groaned and raised your hands to cover your face. Sometimes, you hated your family, even if you loved them dearly.

“Next time, we do this at my place,” Jason growled. “After I line all the walls with lead.”

“I heard that!” All three Kents shouted.

#jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood fluff #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #dc imagine

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ratwithhands · 2 months

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1 - Diantha security detail comic

2 + 3 - Emmet's UDF uniform vs Kalosian Guard uniform

4 - Lore/Background comic

Hooo boy ok so this idea has been simmering on the backburner for a while now. So Legends Z-A had its trailer released a few days back and I figured I'd make something around it. I know logically it's going to be a game set in the past but I found myself wanting to work on something more futuristic/sci-fi which is why we have our little Cyber Emmet here.

There's a lot of different things to mention so I'm just gonna break them down by the images.

Diantha is attending a conference/ceremony where she will be discussing the plans for the urbanization of Kalos with the assistance of neighbouring tech giant and long time trade partner Unova. As a sign of goodwill, the Unovan Defense Force sent several people to either work as security or to help organize and prepare the ceremony. Among the list of people is Emmet, who was recently "working with" the UDF, and who is going to serve as Diantha's bodyguard for the event

Emmet's uniform was made by a mix of Unovan and Kalosian designers. It's meant to mimic the shapes while still keeping aspects of his Unovan uniform (mainly the collar, cuffs, and silver trim). He is carrying a handgun from his UDF uniform, however due to the public nature of the event, he is using his charge pistol instead of his wired pistol. He's also using a different face shield, using a silver one as opposed to his black one, since it better matches the uniform he's wearing for the event

Diantha's fur coat still has the angel wing shape. This isn't lore relevant I just couldn't fit the full thing onto the panel but it's definitely there

2 + 3:

Emmet uses a wired pistol (left side holster) and a charge pistol (right side holster). Both are standard issue firearms used by the UDF, however charge pistols are more common thanks to them being easy to hold and carry. A wired pistol connects to a battery pack of some kind to fire at a greater speed, whereas a charge pistol will generate its own power but take longer to fire and load. Emmet's wired pistol connects to the battery network that powers his body, allowing him to take advantage of his fast reflexes by using his faster weapon

Emmet doesn't get anything to wear for his Unovan uniform! Part of the contract he signed for his cybernetics states that he can't cover the prostheses unless it could lead to a breach in confidentiality (such as going to a foreign region or appearing in public outside of work reasons) since he's meant to effectively advertise the quality and construction of the body built for him. Of course he refuses to go outside completely naked to fight so the UDF got him a cropped version of his coat and shoes so he can have some more cover

The face shield is meant more for form than function. Technically the only purpose they serve is to cover his face when he's out on patrol, though it can also act as a screen to show him information about what he's seeing (kind of like an AR headset). He could technically get the screen function though cornea implants but he's not doing that + he wants the anonymity provided by the shield

Sections of the body can split open or be removed. The front abdominal panel can do both due to the different processing mechanisms inside needing easy access for repair/maintenance. Limbs can be swapped for different prostheses provided they have a compatible socket

The sockets in Emmet's back can be used to power other weapons/devices if he has a compatible cable. Emmet was given a bag of different attachments and cables to hook into his back so he can power a range of things from phones to laser rifles

He has removable skin. Any shot of him with the black body is the body without skin. In situations where he could possibly have skin showing or he is required to wear something that shows more skin, he'll have material rolled over the sections of his body that will be visible so they look more normal

Emmet got run over by a train ♥ long story short is that he went to rescue a passenger who had fallen off the platform and miscalculated how much time he had before the train pulled in. Once he got stabilized in the hospital afterwards, he only has around 30% of his original body intact, along with some sections they were able to somewhat repair but required new hardware being installed in order to return their function. Anything under the waist and a large portion of his arms were crushed beyond repair and as such, he's been connected to different machine to mimic the functions of his organs

The UDF (in a rather scummy play) contacted Emmet for business, asking him to sign a contract that would ensure he would live by letting them test their confidential new tech on him. He is the only ethical candidate they have for testing such prostheses so to get him to agree, they offer to cover the cost of everything relating to his health and work, as well as paying him a salary for the trouble. Since the only other options are "die slowly" or "lose all self sufficiency and go bankrupt living in hospital", he agrees, and so begins his second job as a living experiment and tool for the UDF

I think that's the most I've written for one post yikes. This isn't even everything but I'll cut it here because my hands are not pleased with me typing.

I still have a lot to think about for this concept, mostly what kind of work Emmet will do while overseas in Kalos and whether something dangerous enough will happen to warrant him using his body for what it was made for. That might be funny, only two settings and they're "I love macarons :)" and bloodshed.

Anyways hope you guys enjoyed this dump, feel free to ask on anything (it helps me write too ^^). See you later and have a nice day!

#submas #au #submas au #emmet #subway master emmet #emmet pokemon #kudari #fanart #sketch #drawing #digital art #it just occurred to me that the joltiks would basically cover him like a giant yellow fur coat because he gives off electricity #maybe I should draw that #anyways I am infinitely enraged with how much better he looks from the back!! pretty boy but only when he's not looking at you #SHIT I just realized I forgot to mention the tank #uhh fun fact Emmet spends half of his day inside of a tube ♥ the prostheses can only support him for so long and they can't do his organ fu #They have the capability‚ but it's nowhere near as good as the specialized machines he hooks into at home‚ so he still spends much of his #time asleep or resting in the tube at home. The good thing is that he's a third of his original size so the life support tube doesn't take #up too much space.#Hoough ok I think that's enough writing let me know if you guys want more of this creature‚ I'm heading out for the night #See you and have a nice day!

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terribletvman · 2 months

Text

Fool's Gold Chapter 1

Vox x reader

Summary: You're a powerful overlord. Vox is an idiot.

A/N: backstory: the reader is implied to have a similar backstory to Rosalie from Twilight or Cassandra from Promising Young Woman and thats why they're in hell!

Chapter 2, Chapter 3

You always thought you'd go to heaven, but now after decades in hell, you know that you would have never fit in up there. So what? You killed a guy on earth, too bad! Revenge is like that sometimes. Although when you found out there were a lot of pricks down here like him, you couldn't help yourself, looping the poor sinners into contracts, their soul, in exchange for love. Little did they know, you had plans for them, setting them up with each other, ‘convincing’ them that they were in love…

You swayed your hips as you made your way to the bar to get another drink. Usually you wouldn't do this yourself, but you had spotted a red furry head you'd never forget. “Alastor,” you placed your hand gently on his shoulder, batting your eyelashes as he turned around to face you.

“Ah! Y/N dear! What a pleasant surprise!” he exclaimed in his usual distorted voice. “What ever brings you to a place like this?”

“Oh Allie, you know sometimes I gotta have a little fun,” you shot him a flirtatious smile, dragging your finger down his arm slowly. It was all for show. A persona that you became known for, and well, you liked to appease the people.

He chuckled, sticking his staff out towards the man sat opposite of him, “Y/N, I’d like you to meet Vox!”

The demon was dressed nicely, although his form surprised you, taking that of a television. His face wore a smile, although there was a strange buzzing noise coming from him.

“Well aren't you handsome,” you stepped forward holding your hand out.

His screen grew fuzzy, the buzzing intensified. “Strange! He must be out of range! He was fine a minute ago!” Alastor exclaims, adjusting Vox’s antennas with his staff and giving him a smack on the side of his head.

Vox snapped back, clear as day and no buzzing noise. “Uh- I- Hi,” he managed to spit out, grabbing your hand excitedly in his.

You leaned forward, moving your hand to rest on his chest, “You don't happen to be looking for love do you?” you fluttered your eyelashes as you looked up at him. He visibly tensed.

“Now, now, dear Y/N! You know that’s no way to treat your dear old friend's acquaintances! If anyone should get his soul, it should be me,” Alastor grinned wickedly.

You giggled, lightly hitting Vox’s chest, before turning back to Alastor, “I know , but like I said, I was just tryna have some fun,” you pouted up at your comrade.

“Well, you’ll have to go find some other lonely soul to take,” you pout intensifying at his words.

“ Fine , but it was a joy seeing you Allie,” you lean up, pecking him on the cheek before sauntering over to the bartender.

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You never really thought much of Vox after that, never saw him with Alastor again either. Until you show up to an Overlords meeting. You don't often attend, there's usually too much politics for you, but the topic of this one had intrigued you.

“Y/N, nice of you to join us,” Zestial cooed from behind you as you exited the elevator.

“Hm, I figured I should meet the new recruits. You know I can't resist fresh meat,” you grin, slipping through the doorway to the conference room. Though you didn't even look at them, walking straight towards your seat.

“Where have you been hiding dear?” the Radio Demon asked as he felt your presence next to him, turning to look at you.

“Making matches, and living my best afterlife,” you giggle, proud to have done some of your finest work recently.

Alastor chuckles, then turns to glance at the new recruits, asking you a silent question. You glance down the table, there sits the Vees, two of them chatting excitedly while one stares right at you. You hardly recognize him, his head updated to a newer model, his body dressed in a tailored suit. But when you see his lovestruck expression and hear that incessant buzzing again, it all comes back to you. You eye up the other two, before turning your head slowly to face Alastor, raising an eyebrow. Alastor releases a burst of a laughtrack. This oughta be good.

“Overlords. Welcome,” Carmilla greets, hands wide. “As you know there's been some stur lately, new people have gained power.” There are solemn nods around the room, but you and Alastor are still as ever. “Which is why I wanted to have this meeting to formally invite them to be a part of our committee, Vees-” she gestured to the end of the table where they gathered.

The shorter of the demons elbows Vox as he stares emptily at you, snapping him out of his daze, he coughs before standing, “Yes, we, the Vee’s, are honored by your decision to include us in this committee and happily accept the invitation,” he states proudly, puffing his chest out. You almost wanted to laugh, but stuck to just side-eyeing Alastor, who grinned at you widely, to which you did laugh, causing a silence to fall over the room. You brush it off by biting your lip and looking up at Vox through your lashes, and he melts like putty. “I- uh- I,” the buzzing grew louder and his screen grew fuzzy.

The shorter demon stands, “What my associate, so eloquently is trying to say is, thank you, and you may now continue with the meeting.” She grabs Vox by the shoulder, aggressively pushing him down to sit in his chair, cursing him.

🌀💋🌀💋🌀💋🌀💋🌀💋🌀💋🌀💋🌀💋🌀

Your cheeks ached as your smile held strong from all of the socialization so far tonight. You excused yourself from your VIP table, heading to the bar to relax your face muscles a bit. You missed Alastor, it had been a couple years since he left, and while you didn't see each other consistently, you missed his company and comfort of not needing to be you all the time.

As you approach, you spot the updated head of Vox, new flat screen hunched over a glass of whiskey. He looks up at you as you slide into the seat next to him. “Vox, isn’t it?” you ask, a sweet smile on your face, though not forced like your earlier ones. He groans, looking back down at his glass. “What could possibly trouble an attractive guy like yourself?” you flirt, force of habit, leaning closer to him. “Couldn't be a lover, could it?”

“No, it’s just-” he sighs, “-ugh, nevermind,” slumping even further.

“Oh c'mon you can tell me,” you pat his back comfortingly. He looks around anxiously, and you take note, “Here, come with me,” grabbing his hand, you push through the dancing crowd to get to your VIP table, promptly kicking out the sinners who previously occupied it. “Now tell me, what's got you so down, handsome?” you grab his hand in yours, using your other hand to trace the edge of his screen. He leans into your touch, sighing.

“My latest piece of tech is a total failure , and everyone’s gonna make fun of me and then the Vee’s reputation will fall and then Val and Velvette are gonna be pissed with me and I- arrgghh ,” he cries out in frustration, bowing his head.

“Don’t say all that, I’m sure whatever you’ve created is excellent,” you tip his head up to look at you, “trust me.” God, Val could never make Vox feel the way he did in that moment.

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You were correct, of course, VoxTek’s newest phone released days later and had raving reviews. You watched from afar, pleased, but never buying one for yourself. You didn't need a phone, or any technology really, when you’re a powerful overlord you can make your own entertainment .

You were keenly aware of the way security cameras around Pentagram City followed your every move after that night, although you'd always keep them guessing… “UGHHH!” Vox cried out, throwing his arms up in frustration as you dematerialized once again. He was sat in his office, screens surrounding him, watching you from every angle he could get his hands on. He had been doing this for days… no, weeks… no, months, and he still knew so little about you. He didn't know where you lived, where you did your deals, or how you kept slipping out of his line of sight. He had cameras everywhere . He knew the establishments you frequented for food and to meet up with other overlords, but other than that you were a mystery.

He had almost had enough, scanning through every part of the city for your unmistakable likeness, when on the last sector he found you, sitting on a bench, feeding a venus flytrap a handful of bugs. He waited until you were done before making his move, teleporting through the camera he had been watching you through onto the streets of Cannibal Town.

You knew he was near, while he no longer made that awful buzzing noise due to his new screen, you could still feel the static radiating off of him.

“Y/N!” he jumps out from behind a bush. “Funny seeing you here!” You raise an eyebrow at him, as he brushes off his suit jacket nervously. You hadn't even said anything yet to him to get him this flustered. “You know, while I have you, we totally should get dinner sometime!” He puts on his most charming smile.

Your head perked up, “Oh, why? Are you looking for love ?” you lean closer to him.

“Only if it's with you,” he grins cockily.

“Only if you make a deal,” the air grew thicker and darker as you stuck your hand out, eyes going black.

“Hahah,” Vox chuckled nervously, tugging his bowtie away from his neck as he pushed your hand away with his other hand, “No, no, I was thinking the old fashioned way.”

“That sounds good,” you smile sweetly at him. The air around you returning to normal.

“Oh c'mo- wait, you said yes? O-okay! Yeah! I’ll uh set something up!” he backs away nervously, the static in the air beginning to raise the hair from your head. “I’ll uh call you!”

“I don't have a phone,” you fluttered your eyes at him, clasping your hands together innocently.

“Oh! Right! H-here take mine!” He pulls his phone out of his pocket, “I’ll even wipe it for you!” sparks fly as he uses his power to transfer the data.

You raise an eyebrow once again, but take the phone nonetheless. “Thanks,” you grin, dematerializing from Vox’s sight for the second time that day

🌀💋🌀💋🌀💋🌀💋🌀💋🌀💋🌀💋🌀💋🌀

Techno music played as Vox pumped himself up for your date, he moved around his apartment anxiously, adjusting everything so it was just so. After grabbing the vase of flowers off of his coffee table and repositioning them in the entryway he puffed out his chest, looking around, pleased at his work.

You didn't have to knock when you materialized in the hall outside his door, the phone Vox gave you having sent an alert directly to Vox. “Y/N!” He opened the door wide, holding his arm out excitedly. “Come in!” You walked through the doorway, assessing the home of the CEO overlord. It looked unlived in, completely staged, just like every rich person’s house, you suppose. “Let me take this!” he slipped the jacket off of your shoulders smoothly, hanging it beside the door. “Would you like a tour?” he asked, placing a hand in the small of your back.

He made things too easy , “Eager to get me to your bedroom, huh?” you brushed a piece of hair behind your ear as you looked up at him. He chuckled nervously, the electricity in the air growing higher. You giggle, placing a hand on his chest, “How about dinner first?”

He nods, that charming smile returning, guiding you to the left and into a large dining room. The table was set immaculately, and for a second you questioned whether a tv demon could eat… I suppose you were going to find out.

After pulling out your chair for you without a word, Vox took his seat opposite you. You observe him but he avoids your gaze, instead, sitting up straight and clapping his hands. Two souls appear on either side of the table, two holding a decanter with wine and the others holding a plate of food. In unison your’s and Vox’s glass are filled and the plates placed in front of you.

The food resembles something you would get on earth, not in hell, and you instantly know Vox paid a pretty penny for this dinner. Most food in hell was rather unappetizing, at least at first, once you've been down here for long enough you get accustomed to it. But this seemed like a delicacy.

“It looks lovely,” you compliment, looking back up at him. He is looking at you now, waiting for your reaction to his show of status. He seems pleased with your approval.

“Dig in,” he grins.

The meal went surprisingly without a hitch. Vox remained mostly unfazed by your flirtatious remarks, which made it less fun for you, you liked to see him squirm. Instead he opted for boasting about his company and success, no doubt trying to appeal to a side of you that would respect him. And you did, you weren't a fool, you knew the Vees were a powerful conglomerate, but you also aware he was a fool. He had no idea you were immensely powerful, and could destroy him if you pleased.

“Well, how about that tour, then?” he asked when the plates were cleared.

“Sure,” you grinned, standing with him as he escorted you down the hall.

Once again, the new rooms he showed you were undeniably perfect, nothing out of place and not a piece of dust in sight. “...And the grand finale,” he opened the door to find the biggests room yet, it had modern furniture decorated in royal blue with electric blue accents. You stepped into the room, twirling in a circle examining the imperfections of this room. There were bottles of cologne, pressurized air, and screen cleaner gathered on a vanity, the sheets were slightly wrinkled, the drapes unevenly pushed back to reveal the city.

When your eyes find him again, he's leaning against the wall near the door, arms crossed, a grin spread across his face as he eyes you up and down, no doubt enjoying the sight of you standing in his bedroom . “Hm,” you hum, walking back towards the door.

His arm flies out, grabbing your arm to stop you, “Oh no you don't,” he chuckles darkly.

You raise an eyebrow at his attempt at a dominant demeanor “You wanna try that again?” you ask, turning to him, eyes darkening.

His smile drops and he freezes, literally, his screen freezes. “Uh-h,” he tries to reply but then he glitches.

When his face returns his mouth is gaping at you and he's giving you doe eyes. You almost pity him, almost . Instead you step towards him, and in response he stands up straight, attempting to make space between the two of you despite his back being pressed against the wall. You drag your finger around the bottom right corner of his screen, your eye's becoming pitch black. “Do you want me to take care of you baby?”

He audibly glups, eyes searching your face as you grin darkly at him. Finally he nods, hands wandering to your hips, you let them run up and down your sides, as you pull him in by the collar of his shirt for a deep kiss.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #vox x reader

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ynscrazylife · 8 months

Text

His Agent

Summary: When the Avengers save a team of kidnapped S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents, they discover something new about their Captain.

A/N: I’ve been working on this fic for a little while and I’m proud of this idea/plot so I really hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

The first clue that something was off was the change in Natasha and Clint’s behavior. They could usually hide it, being master spies, but it became difficult to constantly put on a mask around the people you live with, people you saved the world with. Steve, Tony, Bruce, and Thor all noticed how the pair retreated into themselves like turtles would into their shells. They had always been reserved - Natasha especially - but it went to a deeper level now. They would talk in hushed whispers to each other, were always hunched over something, their backs to the rest of the team, and were distracted when it came to Avengers business.

The next clue was when Director Fury postponed his meeting with the Avengers. Since establishing the initiative, he had made a point to have monthly meetings with the team to discuss any recent updates, missions and threats. Fury was adamant that these meetings were very crucial to the Avengers’ success, so to hear that he was pushing it back right as they were gathering around the conference table was a surprise. Still, not enough for them to think it might be related to Natasha and Clint’s behavior. Fury said the meeting would be in a few days, that was all.

Then, things went from being off to being wrong. They all sat at the table, ready to see Fury’s face come up on screen, but he never appeared – Deputy Director Maria Hill did.

“What happened?” Natasha asked almost immediately, not even letting Maria get a word in as she leaned forward in her chair. It was clear that she knew more than what she was letting on.

“Director Fury cannot make it today, he’s dealing with a crucial issue, one that we hope we can call on you, Avengers, to help us with,” Hill said, her words flowing calmly, but there was still a spark of urgency, almost desperation, in her eyes.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked, wearing a puzzled look. If S.H.I.E.L.D. was coming to them for help when they had the best agents around the globe, and the Director was attending to it, they must be in some sort of crisis.

“A week ago, we lost contact with a six person team that had gone undercover to investigate an uprising organization who’s been trying to create their own superhumans. We received intel that they had been torturing people and creating illegal serums and devices for their superhuman projects. After being unable to contact any of them, we also found that none of their trackers were online,” Hill explained.

“So you think their cover was blown?” Tony guessed.

“We do, yes. We had a team scout the building the agents had gone undercover in a few days ago and found no sign of them. We think that they’ve moved them somewhere else,” Hill answered.

“Who’s missing?” Bruce asked.

A file flashed onto the screen, a list of names with pictures. Everyone leaned forward in their seats to get a better look, their eyes skimming the document. The sound of wheels rolling back caught their attention as Steve suddenly stood up, spun around on his heels and walked out of the room. The door slammed shut behind him.

“What the hell was that?” Clint asked, utterly confused - like everyone else.

Hill sighed. “It may have something to do with one of the Agents on the list – Y/L/N. She helped Steve a lot after he came out of the ice, they were good friends,” she said.

One, two. One, two. One, two. One, two. One, two. One, two. One–

Steve panted as he stared down at the punching bag which clattered to the ground, sweat coating his raised biceps.

“You know, if you really want to get your frustrations out, you should spar with someone,” a voice floated into his ear and Steve glanced up, only to see you lifting some weights.

He straightened his arched back, dropping his arms. “Oh, yeah? How do you reckon that?” He asked, curious.

You smirked. “You’re not the only one who’s broken the bag,” you said, shrugging. “Though, it took me a lot longer without the super strength.”

Steve raised his eyebrows, wondering what got you so mad, but not commenting on it. Then, he couldn’t help but fix you with a confused gaze.

“What?” You asked, still smiling at him.

“You’re not, uh, gawking at me,” he said.

You chuckled, asking, “Am I supposed to?” Before he could answer, you made a silly, dramatic jaw-dropped, eyes wide face, causing Steve’s laughter to mix with yours.

“Ever since I woke up, everyone’s kinda been . . . gawking at me. Except for Director Fury, that is,” Steve said.

“Well, I’ll admit, I kinda gawked at you at first when I heard about you . . . But I saw you one time, in the medbay . . . I don’t know how to explain it, ‘cause you weren’t just Captain America, you know? When I saw you, with all the blankets and the wires and stuff . . . I just thought about a guy who had been something traumatic. I thought about the Steve that your war buddies always described you as,” you said.

From that day on, you were a light in Steve’s life. You two became fast friends and, at least on Steve’s part, his attraction for you grew exponentially, and you even spent some time with him at the Retreat. After joining the Avengers, he had been so busy that he hadn’t seen you and now . . . Your name was on a list of MIA Agents.

He paced up and down the hallway outside the conference room, hand tangled in his hair. All logical and rational thoughts jumped out the window as panic seized his body, twisting his heart into a knot. His mind was filled with you: your name, your image, your memory. He couldn’t stop his thoughts from giving him horrible scenes of you being tortured or experimented on by these freaks. Hurt. Kidnapped. Scared.

The only way to get you back was to return to the conference room and face it, so that’s what he did. Thankfully, no one called out his abrupt departure, they were all focussed on Hill’s debrief. She was saying something about how she thought they were close to finding another base of the group’s, where they might have the captured agents, but could use Natasha’s hacking and cyber skills to decode their intel. She readily agreed.

“Can you guys suit up and meet us at headquarters?” Maria asked, to which they all nodded. She ended the call and the Avengers all spurred into action, splitting up to change into their suits and arm themselves.

On the way out, Natasha patted Steve’s arm. “We’ll save them,” she assured her friend, but he picked up on what she was really saying: “We’ll find Y/N.”

Steve realized pretty quickly, as he changed into his suit that if he wanted to get through this without falling apart, he’d have to switch to his Captain mode. He had to think strategically - they were saving a team of agents, not just you (even if you were the most important agent to him). He’d put Natasha, Clint, and Tony on fighting the kidnappers, Bruce would standby with the medical team in case they needed the Hulk, and Steve himself and Thor would recover the hostages. He also assumed they’d have S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to secure the base and to back them up. It was a solid plan, Steve told himself, and it was going to work. It had to work.

When they got to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s headquarters, Steve relayed this plan to the team. Everyone was on board and now it was a waiting game as S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to crack the location. Steve was about to wear a hole into the floor with all the pacing he was doing, his heart hammering in his chest. Every second that passed felt like a decade.

After the location was found, it was all a blur. Coordinating with the agents, talking with Hill and Fury, and getting to the base seemed to just all pass by. The moment he woke up was when he was entering the base alongside Thor, the agents and Avengers ahead of them to take care of their enemies.

“I can handle the rescue, Captain. You can focus on your agent,” Thor chimed in as they walked down the hallway, towards the cells they were told the hostages were in.

Steve paused for a second to look at his friend. “Are-are you sure?” He asked – for once the mighty soldier was taken aback. He wanted nothing more than to devote all his attention to you, but he also knew he had a job to do as an Avenger and a leader. He owed it to all the hostages to give them his best self.

“He has me, of course he’s sure,” Tony’s voice came from behind them as he approached. Steve could practically hear the snark in his voice (Tony Snark, he should be named, but he’d have to save that quip for another time). “They’ve got it handled up there so don’t worry, Cap.”

Steve looked from him to Thor, who gave him an encouraging nod. “Okay,” he agreed, emitting an unspoken word of gratitude which both men received. For the first time in a long time, he felt a weight being lifted on his shoulders. For once, he got to abandon Captain America for a second and walk in there as Steve. For you.

The three Avengers walked down the rest of the hallway and turned, finding a row of cells. Thor and Tony took charge, allowing for Steve to glance through all the cells until he found you. Finding you was what he wanted but the sight he was met with when he actually laid his eyes on you shattered him. The urge to vomit and also send every person responsible for this to hell hit him in one fell swoop. You were sitting, slumped back against a dirty metal pole that your wrists and ankles were chained to. You were still wearing your S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform, though it was dirtied, bloodied, and torn in places. So was your skin, Steve realized. He ached at knowing you went through pain. Your eyes were closed and Steve hoped to God that you were simply sleeping.

Steve quickly bent to his knees and used his shield to break the chains, the harsh clang rousing you from your sleep. You mumbled something he couldn’t understand and he hushed you softly. “It’s alright, I’m here. It’s Steve, can you open your eyes?” He asked.

It took you a couple tries, but eventually you got there. “S’ve?” You tried to say, struggling to talk.

“Yep, it’s me,” he affirmed, feeling a pang at the fact that you could barely even speak. When he had thought about when he’d see you again, this was never in the realm of possibilities. “I’m getting you out of here.”

True to his word, he hoisted you up in his arms. He had to put you over his shoulder like a Fireman’s carry in case there were any lingering enemies that escaped the team. Being upside down was surely uncomfortable for you, but he wouldn’t risk not being able to defend you. With long strides and quick glances, Steve got you out of there.

Stepping outside into the world, he slowly lowered you down and maneuvered you into a princess carry, not going fast so as to not dizzy you. In the distance, he could see your other teammates getting loaded onto ambulances, with some of the Avengers assisting.

“Hey, you with me?” Steve checked in, returning his attention to you. You were definitely out of it, eyes glazed over as you looked at him. You didn’t seem to really get what was going on, but you didn’t look panicked, so you must’ve known you were safe. With him.

For a second - Steve was taken back. The tired look in your eyes reminded him of the aftermath of the first time the two of you had sparred together.

“Are you sure you want to spar together, Y/N?”

“What? You don’t think I can take you? Prepare to have your ass beat, Rogers!”

With the super soldier serum running through his veins, it was actually you who had your ass beat by the blond man. You had probably known that would happen when you said it, too. Still, Steve needed to train and you were determined not to let his superior strength intimidate you like it had done with the other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Afterwards, you had insisted you were fine, but Steve knew that the many rounds you guys went through had exhausted you. He tried to apologize, but you refused to hear it. You knew what the terms were and you agreed to it - he won fair and square. You had fallen asleep on his shoulder that night, much like how you looked like you’d fall asleep in his arms now, and Steve swore in that moment that you were the most precious thing ever.

“Steve,” you mumbled, blinking slowly at him like a cat. His heart thumped with such force in his chest - oh how he regretted drifting apart from you after he became an Avenger.

“Hang on a little longer. We’ve gotta get you to S.H.I.E.L.D. medical,” he said, shifting you up a little higher in his arms before heading over to the ambulances.

“S.H.I.E.L.D.?” You echoed grumpily, eyes half-closed.

Steve bit back an amused chuckle at the way you scrunched up your nose. Truly like a cat (or a kitten, but he knew you’d raise hell if he called you that). You never much appreciated the medical agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s. You knew they meant well, but something about the whole thing made you uneasy. Steve was well aware of that and he thought about it as you walked. The Avengers had a pretty good medical facility . . . Not to mention, the thought of leaving you again and walking away like he had done with the Avengers felt like a knife twisting in his gut. He couldn’t do that.

“Would you rather recover at the Avengers’ tower? I’m sure I can make the arrangements and I’ll, um, I’ll be around much more,” he offered, his eyes finding you again. He could never look away from you for too long.

Steve was still a little nervous about this. You had every right to say no, to be mad at him for abandoning you. If you did make the decision to go to S.H.I.E.LD., he’d show up in your room with flowers as much as you’d let him, he decided.

“Mhm,” you hummed, nestling your head against his bicep and closing your eyes.

That was like music to his ears. He knew that things between you weren’t 100% back to normal, but this felt better than what he had ever expected. With a newfound purpose and his feelings for you blossoming, he marched towards the other Avengers to tell them about their new addition to the compound.

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