#I’m projecting on him and I’ve decided hes an ass but I love him

[liaislying]

Awwww my little scrumblo!!! My little stink man, my little baby girl princess!!!.!.!

(A little doodle of beej in my sketchbook. I’m determined to draw him more I’m obsessed with him)

#musical beetlejuice #beetlejuice #beetlebabes dni #sketchbook #art #illustration #sketch #musical #my little guy #my scrunkly #my scrumblo #I can woobify him as much as I want #I’m projecting on him and I’ve decided hes an ass but I love him #uhhhh ignore how bad this is I just wanna find other fans of him #please beej musical fans come find me 🥺 #tell me what you would do if you found him in a cardboard box behind a Walmart

[alyakthedorklord]

Omg literally it would be SO cool if you wrote the rest of the playboy bruce trying to kiss the justice league without them realizing it (I know you said figure it out but the way you wrote it was so good and funn I would love it if you gave maybe a couple of scenarios)

Lmao honestly executive dysfunction is kicking my ASS rn and it was intended as a prompt. I will try tho, definitely taking inspiration from the others who responded to the post because I love them.

If you haven’t, go check out the notes on the OG Post above! @britcision, @ivywing, and @help-i-need-a-cool-username all had amazing additions and @foursixtwonineoh-pieces-of-lego wrote a fic:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48325771

As did @scrapcheck, still in progress

And Devilhorn!

Anyways LONG post under the cut

Hal Jordan

Hal is first to prove a POINT, as @britcision decided. Also because the bastard made it waaaay too easy. Remember- Hal was Joking. He genuinely thinks Batman isn’t going to try, because he’s way too straight-laced boring.

So when he’s at a bar in Coast City, and he sees this absolutely ravishing man lounging casually against the wall, bar lighting making him practically glow (he CALCULATED that) subtle makeup making his bright blue eyes pop as he looks Hal up and down… Well. Hal makes the first move.

Hal: “All on your own, handsome?”

Bruce, with “Mastermind” by Taylor Swift playing in his head, smiling sweetly at Hal: “Care to change that?”

They start talking. Hal doesn’t recognize Bruce Wayne at ALL (canonically he does not know who Bruce Wayne is, a point brought up by @help-i-need-a-cool-username) so all he knows is Bruce is a single father who works at a company he inherited from his parents, which is just (brucie voice) “so much less interesting than a test pilot!”

Bruce, grimacing internally but wrapped around Hal’s arm with the awed and interested eyes in full effect: “you have such a nice voice, tell me more about planes…”

He KNOWS what a fuselage is, thank you, Jordan. Whatever. He gets to gush about his kids, when its his turn to talk, good enough tradeoff. He can survive Hal Jordan’s bad pick up lines and pretend he’s into them. At a certain point Bruce breaks and kisses him just to shut him up. One down.

Diana Prince

I looked it up- kissing in Ancient Greece wasn’t always considered romantic, but also a greeting between two similarly-ranked people. Therefore, I think Diana would be pretty chill with kissing and honestly an easy target at a gala if Bruce plays respectful/clumsy/earnest himbo starstruck with the tall pretty woman, just a peck would make him the happiest man alive. But I wanna go a little more in depth.

Now, I’ve seen Flash and Martian Manhunter save Bruce and/or his kids and Bruce lays one on them, but honestly I think it would work well with Diana too, because she loves kids. Dick and/or Jason (whichever you want to imagine, I want them to team up screw canon) are WAY to excited for this, they’ve got a little script and everything.

WonderWoman, a kid in each arm, delivering them back to their tearful guardian: “Here we are, Mr. Wayne. Whole and healthy.”

Dick, playing into his role eagerly: “Oh my gosh, Bruce! Bruce we got saved by a princess! It’s like a fairytale! Except, you know, the princess is the hero this time, which is so freaking cool!”

Bruce, tears of gratitude rolling down his face (and he knows how to still look perfect while crying, its a skill): “I’m just glad the two of you are safe, Chum.”

Jason, big baby blues in full effect, absolutely asked Wonder Woman to be his mom earlier (to set groundwork, no other reason): “You know, usually the princess and the hero gets a kiss at the end of a fairytale, Bruce. But this princess is both. So how will she get a reward?”

Still choked up with relieved tears and now laughter, Bruce looks up at Diana and smiles: “Well, if the Princess wants a reward… then I would be a fool to refuse.”

Bruce kisses her on the lips, Dick and Jason both kiss her cheeks, Diana leaves charmed and amused by the sweet family. Such a good father, humoring his children and thier little fascination with her, so very respectful…

Two down.

J’ohn Jones

Okay, martians are telepathic. So this goes one of two ways, at some sort of charity or something-

Option 1, Batman is a realist: the charity event is a masquerade, and he wanders over to where MM is while thinking “it would be so funny, give me this.” As loudly as he can. And Martian Manhunter, who appreciates the audacity, gives him a kiss. (I don’t like this one because it technically breaks the rules of the bet, bc MM knows it’s Batman, but eh)

Option 2, Batman is a different breed: he manages to up the ante with his Himbo Persona. Creating a “slippery void” mental facade that blocks of his real thoughts and makes him read as really just that stupid. This would require functioning with two trains of thought at once, and making sure that the Martian can only read the surface level, “oh, this one is pretty” “I really wouldn’t mind kissing him” and other such decoy thoughts, instead of “target is approaching, signs of interest present despite this not being his natural form-“

Bruce also researches and copies Martian courting styles and copies them “by chance,” catching MM’s attention. (He offers him Oreos)

Martian Manhunter: “this man… he is so empty headed and yet clearly kind and willing. I would not take him for a life partner, but for some simple fun as he seems to desire…”

(Edit: Maybe, if B is confident enough, he lets through his loneliness. Missing his parents, wanting affection, an ache so strong it’s like a physical wound. J’onn feels the same ache for his lost family, and decides to try this human’s strategy to fill that void. Either way…)

Batman 3, League 0

Barry Allen

I’m strangely blank when it comes to the Flash let me just spitball and let it snowball

As I said above, people have had him save Bruce, had Bruce seduce him at his workplace while taking a tour, I even saw @help-i-need-a-cool-username have Dick set up a petition for Bruce to kiss the Flash. (An idea that I personally think would also go really well with Superman lmao.)

Anyways, I think it would be funny for Bruce to take it slow with Barry. For the irony of it all. Because Batman is doing this to prove a POINT. So he’s in central city, spots Barry coming his way, and “accidentally” slips right into his arms. Ooh, or covered in coffee, like a wealth disparity drama base script, and Barry’s like “omg i am so sorry let me pay you back.” And bruce is all “this shirt costs (stupid amount of money)”

Barry: (fear)

Bruce, rolling with it rn: “yes, it is horrendous, isn’t it? Hows this- I’m in central city for a day. You can pay me back by showing me around?”

He then proceeds to string barry along on an honest to god DATE for shits and giggles. They go clothes shopping, they go to restaurants, Bruce pays for a big meal bc this is after a fight or something and Barry got hurt, his speedster comrade needs to EAT, damnit.

After all this, he gives a cheeky smile and lightly smooches Barry. “Thanks for the fun day, Mr. Allen.”

Barry, bright red and goo brained: “hah- mmhmm. Yeah…”

Batman 4, League 0

Oliver Queen

This one… Oliver is on guard. He’s twitchy and suspicious, turning down men flirting with him, people are starting to notice. But Bruce? Bruce just walks up at a party while “tipsy” and lays one on him. Straight up. He wants to show just how EASY it is. Because Oliver doesn't even register it. He just laughs and goes: “Hey Brucie! Miss me?”

Batman 5, League 0

Dinah Lance

Of course, immediately after above, he turns and pouts at canary.

Bruce: “Dinah darling, you are a saint, I don’t know how you put up with the mess he’s got on his face. He was so much nicer to kiss when we were in (fancy private school name drop) together and didn’t have all this nonsense.”

Dinah, laughing at Ollie’s offended noises: “Oh, I don’t mind it. He’s a good kisser.”

Bruce: “Of course he is, I taught him. Care to compare?”

Dinah: “Don’t mind if I do.”

Batman 6, league 0

Clark Kent

For Clark, Bruce is originally talking to Lois before he turns his eyes on a quiet Clark and croons: “So, Miss Lane, does this lovely specimen have his own questions, or is he arm candy? And if he’s the latter, can I either tempt him off you, or secure an invitation?”

Lois, an excellent friend who will absolutely set Clark up with the hottest bachelor in Gotham: “Well, Mister Wayne, I’ve got all I need. Clark, take a page from my book and honeytrap a good quote out of him, hm?”

With an obnoxious wink, she pats a spluttering Clark on the shoulder, and leaves him with a very smug Batman.

(Bonus Superbat- Clark and Bruce’s conversation is going REALLY WELL and to the point where both of them seem on board with more than a heavy makeout when Bruce puts a hand on Clarks chest.

Bruce: “Stop.”

Clark, freezing immediately: “I’m sorry, did I go too far-?”

Bruce: “No, no. I think I might be though. See, I have all of you now, and I’ve won the bet.”

Clark: “What are you- oh. Oh- HUH?”

Cue sudden and shocked revelation, Clark’s mind going a hundred miles an hour, and then skidding to a stop on- he only did this for the bet. He’s not really interested. He stopped because I went too far-

Bruce: “You only consented to a kiss without knowing my identity. Right now, I’d like to do more, if you’d let me.”

Clark has the dial-up tone ringing in his ears, he has no idea whats going on anymore, the hot billionaire and his reclusive teammate aren’t quite slotting into place, because he wants both but rhey’re so different but they’re the same but-

“Yes.”

Lois doesn’t get Clark back that night and she is delighted.)

Anyways, final results:

Batman: 7

League: 0

Reveal:

Batman talking shit about their secret identities again, Green Lantern is scoffing about it again, says something along the lines of: “You still think you’re sooooo great, huh? Hows the bet going, spooky?” Fully expecting Batman to get huffy with him.

Instead, Batman smirks.

He leans in

And purrs: “So you didn’t notice?”

The League freezes. The implications are dangling over their head. Did he… did he really?

Green Lantern, absolutely terrified: “No. no, there’s no way…”

Batman: “Oh, there absolutely was a way. I’d say you were a good kisser, but honestly? I think it might have been the euphoria of getting you to shut up.”

He turns on the rest of the league, still smirking. “I have kissed every single person who consented at least once in the time since the bet was made. Two of you with tongue. And no one has called me out on it. Now that you know it’s happened, you should be able to figure me out, so whoever can tell me my real name first, wont get thier story used as an example in the brand new “how to avoid honeypots” seminar.”

(If bonus superbat, B shoots Superman a Look and goes “except for you, superman, because I told you my name.” Which just ends up distracting everyone else until they get THAT story)

Diana wins bc she matched up the boys to the robins. Everyone else gets their stories told in excruciating detail. Batman rates them by kissing ability and how obvious he was on his approach. Oliver gets docked points for “texture.” Dinah gets docked points because “i griped about the exact same thing in and out of costume, how did you not notice-“

(Different reveal below)

@chaos-n-kindness @she-went-that-way @geekonaleash @redh00dsbf @howabouticallyou

#batman the playboy #autistic batman #justice leauge shennanigans #bruce wayne #long post #batman

[scoutswritingcorner]

hi! i’m so sorry if i’ve sent this request before but my tumblr has been pretty glitching lately so i just wanted to make sure you got it >:)

could i request some fluffy angel dust x trans male reader headcanons? how angel would help reader with dysphoria and stuff like that?

thank you in advance if you decide to write this!

Perfect In Everyway!

AngelDust x FTM!Reader

TW: Body Dysmorphia! Nothing else but if you guys need me to tag anything don’t be afraid to DM or shoot me a message!

A/N: God I love this! There aren’t enough FTM Readers with Angel Dust out there! Hope you enjoy! I WENT OFF ON THIS ANON (not me projecting) IM SORRY!!

-🕷️ When Angel died, he didn’t know a lot about what we know today. So when you first started dating, you were really scared to tell him. 

-🩷 You both take the whole relationship slow, he doesn’t truly understand why but he’s happy and willing to do so for you! He might think this is your first time dating in a long time or you just never dated anyone before!

-🕷️ It takes some help from Charlie and Vaggie, who you told first cause surely they didn’t care! They support and love you! Now, like I’m talking, depending on how terrified you are or just how your body reacts to telling him, they’ll go off based on that cause they understand how serious this is!

-🩷So either way, it takes a couple days for Charlie and Vaggie to help build up that confidence! But as soon as you are, they bring Angel into the equation. As soon as he walks in that confidence is immediately crumbling and he’s worried seeing that terrified look in your eyes.

-🕷️ He sits down infront of you and takes your hands with one pair as the other cradle your face to wipe any tears away, “What’s wrong, baby?” 

-🩷 As soon as you tell him? He’s confused but then he gets why you wanted everything to be at a slow pace. He just cradles your face and presses gentle kisses to your tear stained cheeks.

-🕷️ Oh boy, he’s praising you all day if you get dysmorphic! Hugging you from behind and smirking, “Look at my hunky man, he’d beat your ass~” or a simple kiss with, “How ya’ doin, Handsome?~”

-🩷 Want to stay in bed and hide from the world? He’s bringing snacks, water and Fat Nuggets! He makes sure you aren’t wearing your binder either so your chest can properly breathe!

-🕷️ Sweet baby boy right here- he looks up and asks Charlie about more modern slang and what he can do to help! He’s still a little clueless but he’s trying!

-🩷 Even at work, if he sees something that’ll look good on you? He’s texting you a picture and asking if you’d like something more like that. All in all, sweet precious baby boy. Would smooch 30/10.

a/n: To all my trans brother, sisters and siblings! I love you guys and hope you had a great Trans Visibility Day yesterday! 🏳️‍⚧️<3 <3

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #angel dust imagine #angel dust x male reader #hazbin angel dust #angel dust x reader #trans reader #trans ftm

[reidsdaisies]

Heyyy!!!! Could you please write a blurb, drabble or headcanon about Spencer wanting to be a househusband or how would he be as such??!? I’ve been watching The way of the househusband anime lately and it sparked the idea. I love your writing and have a great day 💕💕💕

𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝!𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬!

༉‧´ˎ˗ pairing; househusband spencer reid x gn bau!reader

༉‧´ˎ˗ a/n; you literally read my mind!! I’ve been wanting to do something about househusband spencer ever since i did spencer x housewife reader! and i had way too much fun on pinterest looking for inspo pics 😭💞 here’s a board i lowk love, I think it’s just adorable if anyone wants to know what I’m picturing — ׂׂૢ

haha i deleted some things cause this was cringey 😭 it still is but uhm anyway

𝐂𝐌 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 || 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

— i know i said he’s a terrible cook before, but in this universe i think he would have spent a lot of time learning how to cook and bake so he could cook you homemade meals and delicious sweet treats to show his appreciation for how hard you work to put a roof over the two of your heads

— he wears cute ass girly or flowery aprons when cooking and adorable oven mitts, fight me

— he has an unhealthy attachment to his kitchen aid mixer, will talk about how much he loves that thing. you’re concerned.

— excellent and very precise with cleaning 👌 scrubs at the bathroom sink till you can practically see your reflection in it and dusts every damn crevice of your house

— very passionate about the projects he gets into. like if he decides he wants a garden, omg he will commit. he’d probably want a house with a big backyard with enough space to build one of those cute vegetable gardens in the back yard and grow you two’s own food. and he would plant big apple and pear trees, would take pride in how great the fruit is and when everything is finally ready to be picked, he’ll make you bring it to work for the team

— AND omg a greenhouse would be his dream to have. everyone knows about his big ass brain and he definitely has extensive knowledge on all different types of plants, exactly what conditions they need to thrive

— along with that, i know he’d be really into lawn-scaping, you two have the best lawn EVER, and im not exaggerating. the back and the front of the house— absolutely beautiful. he picks out the prettiest flowers and makes sure the soil is rich, and ofc trims the bushes to perfection. he’d look so cute with gardening gloves, these or these specifically, and his massive ass, muddy ass gardening boots that are a size too big but he’s oddly attached to them.

— other hobbies he’s picked up include scrapbooking, piano, and of course knitting & crocheting.

— in one episode, he told Penelope he spent weeks knitting a scarf for his cosplay, and so now I’ve been constantly thinking about the other things he’d knit & crochet for him and his partner. scarfs, mittens, winter hats, sweaters, pot holders, anything he can make, he will make even just to try it out once.

— the pot holders would have cute animals on them or flowers. floral everything. he loves all plants, specifically flowers.

— now that you two own a house together, there’s so much opportunity for him. he’s got his own office AND most importantly, it’s massive and doubles as his own personal library. it’s walls are lined with multiple of the tallest, most spacious bookcases you could find for him, still just barely being able to fit his ever growing book collection on their shelves.

— you and spencer have your ‘family’ over on weekends and off days to chit chat. you’ll invite JJ, Emily, and Derek over but Emily and Derek would drag you away to the kitchen to get wine-drunk and gossip while JJ would be decorating the frames of her kids pictures and copying silly designs she found on Pinterest for Will.

— whenever you’re not on a case, and you’re friends aren’t available or you two aren’t feeling ver social, that’s when you finally get to be the sweet, lovey-dovey married couple you two are at heart

— for fun, you guys always bake brownies, cookies, cupcakes, and what not together, that ofc, he insists you take into work to show off his beautiful decorating skills. they’re not that beautiful but you still like to tell him they are to boost his ego and make jokes about how he should work at a bakery. a bakery would never hire him.

— you’ve given him the nickname of ‘cuddle bug’. why? because he’s such a gosh darn cuddle bug. will curl up to your side for hours while you finish any necessary paperwork and you two talk about the most recent case you worked while he’s mindlessly drawing little butterflies and hearts on your back

— after particularly rough cases, he runs you two a bubble bath to just soak in and spend some much needed and well deserved alone time together

༉‧´ˎ˗ bonus; you two have movie nights every friday where you lounge in the living room eating nachos and watching tv. surprise, he always weasels his way into getting to pick what you watch. even bigger ‘surprise’, it’s always Star Trek or some scientific documentary.

#reidsdaisies #reidsdaisies spencer <3 #spencer reid #house husband spencer reid #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x male reader #househusband spencer reid x gn!reader #criminal minds #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fandom

[padawansuggest]

Took a shower (thank the lord right) and accidentally created a new AU in my noggin be warned this one is super wild. Includes: Baby-Wan and ouchies and time travel

Obi-Wan goes back in time (whatever maybe he did it himself maybe someone did it to him maybe he did it on accident but it’s post ANH okay) and suddenly finds himself in his toddler body.

You know what his first thought is? Cody. And absolute grief because his soulmate HAD been there in the force with him but now he’s gone. So what does Cody make him think of? Jango. Which means he’s all ughhhhhhhhh I have to go save him, and manages to mindcontrol some guy into getting him off planet. So here he is four whole years old with all the adult emotions trapped in a baby body what can go wrong??? Pirates. Obviously.

Frankly the only reason he doesn’t feel bad about the guy he mind controlled cause he was already gonna end up here so. Whoops.

So who manages to find them of all the damn people? Jaster’s entire ship headed to Korda Six (yes I’m going there the force said ‘I’m gonna give the gays everything they want’ and started with a happy baby’) but having been waylaid by a sudden four year old WITH A KNIFE AND FERAL STUPIDITY on the bridge. He says his name is Cody, he cut Montrose on his calve and it IS gonna require surgery and he bites everyone. Especially Jango. Who is only ten and crying because an ik’aad bit him and Jaster is very torn between giving Jango kisses for his ouchie and helping catch the toddler that knows how to escape through vents and is staging a one toddler zero men mutiny and is loudly telling everyone he’s going to the Jedi.

Maybe he’s possessed. Maybe they can just take him to the Jetii for a quick exorcism and play blaster-armor-saber for who gets the honor of adopting his feral ass.

Till they come across a pirate ship beating up a stranded ship and that’s just not nice so well shit they gotta save them.

Which is how they end up with a traumatized Captain and a stowaway toddler who’s demanding to see Jango once he realizes what ship he’s on. Jango is grumpily dragged in to see him, gets baby attached to his chest (listen he is so over babies now you can let go anytime he’s not interested in getting bit again) and then the vent to the medical room and a feral toddler with a knife comes flying out and demands to get his love back right this fucking instant.

Jaster finally gets a hold of him, disarms him, and puts him in time out before asking who taught him that word that’s not an ad’ika word!

Cody, repentant because adult emotions in a baby body fills you up so much, cries and asks for cuddles. Jaster gives him cuddles before putting in on a cot with Obi-Wan who promptly forgets Jango exists and gives Cody shy baby kisses and holds his hand. Jango is relieved to not be the center of attention for a moment. Till Jaster promptly realizes no one told Obi-Wan who Jango is, why did Obi ask for him?? Obi says he’s a Jetii master trapped in a baby’s body.

Yeah so possession it is. They call up the Jetii and ask if they can come over for exorcisms n chill, the Jetii say they can give them one better can you plz pick up some stranded Jetii along the way? Don’t worry they can assess the situation and see if they need to come in for it. It’s Master Windu and Padawan Billaba! What a surprise! Obi had no idea this could be so easy!

Anyways. So he’s having trouble talking because let’s just say I’ve decided so, so he sorta throws his mental shields down and starts projecting at people, which along with giving EVERYONE a headache, instead of just Mace for once, gives the force the chance to snap a BUNCH of bonds in place. Like a master-apprentice bond with Mace. And vod’e bonds with Depa and Jango. And a Buir bond with Jaster. And a full fledged soulmate bond with Cody.

Anyways. Mace thinks he’s decided three things: he’s gotta (not wants to, but has to) get the senate to let them make an outpost in Mandalorian space so him and Obi can be with Obi’s new dad and family, he does NOT want to be a council member anymore because this is a fucking mess that’s gonna turn into a 6 day meeting for them, and yes, they need to go to the temple.

Anyways. Make Cody a small child and give him a knife is my solution to a lot of things actually.

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #clone wars #commander cody #jaster mereel #jango fett #mace windu #codywan #time travel #baby wan #tiny cody

[joelsgreys]

Talk Tonight l Part 1 (Joel Miller x OC Female Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary: After their flight home is canceled, two complete strangers decide to spend the entire night getting lost together in one of the most beautiful cities in the world—what could go wrong?

Pairing: Pre Outbreak Joel Miller x OFC Camila Mendoza

Warnings/Tags: 18+ Only Minors DNI. NO big age gap, Joel is 35 and Reader is 29. Reader is a mixed woman of color, she is multilingual, although it is written in second person POV (I am terrible at doing third person, sorry) she does come with a name. I also do give her a physical description EXCEPT for her body type (she is shorter than Joel though). Ultimately, if you choose to read this story, you’re more than welcome to read it how you want! If you want to picture her as I write her or as your own—whatever tickles your fancy!

Chapter Warnings/Tags: preface angst (I sorry), we have our girl Sarah, Tommy is a pain in the ass but we love him, airport meet cute, Camila has a physical description, talk of her career and profession, I think that’s about it.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Well, here she is. My lil passion project. It has been kind of nice to write something with zero expectations, not going to lie. No pressure, just straight vibing with this one. This chapter is quite tame, not a whole lot of action yet, but it obviously sets the story up for the good stuff. Tbh, the next chapter is my FAVORITE of the whole series and I almost wish I could skip this part and post that one because when I tell you it is cute, it is so fucking cute lmao. But anyway. I know this series might not gain a ton of traction, but I hope that the few people who DO read this enjoy my OC and grow to love her as much as I have and that you love this story as well. Also I just want to shoutout Doni @morning-star-joy for being so lovely to me and supporting my idea and letting me scream about Camila to her. 🩷

Charles De Gaulle Airport

Paris, France 

September 26th, 2002

07:00 Hours

“I beg your pardon?”

Startled by the sound of that rich, deep voice, that heavy Southern drawl that had become so familiar to you over the last nine hours, you lifted your face from your hands and whipped around in your seat; you’d turned so fast that you almost gave yourself whiplash. Your lips parted slightly in surprise when you saw Joel Miller standing there in the aisle with his plane ticket clutched in his hand.

He looked at you, then his dark eyes flickered over to the man sitting next to you. “Sorry I don’t mean to be a bother, but would you mind swappin’ seats with me?” He asked, politely. “I’ve got a good seat up in business class. It’s all yours if you’re willin’ to switch with me.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “What’s the catch?”

Joel shook his head. “There ain’t no catch, sir.”

“There has to be a catch,” he said, suspiciously.

“Ain’t no catch at all. It’s all yours, no extra charge, sir,” he told him, earnestly. “It’s more comfortable; there’s plenty of legroom. There’s also free food, a better selection of movies to watch. Oh and all the complimentary drinks that you can toss back from here to Austin,” Joel added, practically shoving his ticket right under the man’s nose. He hoped it had been enough to tempt him into agreeing to switch with him. “So? What do you say? Can we swap?”

“Well, I say you had me at complimentary drinks,” he remarked with a grin. He stood up, grabbed his carry on bag from the overhead compartment and took the ticket from Joel’s hand. Eagerly, he made his way up the aisle towards the front of the plane.

Dumbfounded, you couldn’t help but stare at Joel, your eyes widening as he slid himself into the seat beside you. “Hi baby,” he greeted you, his lips, soft and warm, brushing against your temple.

“Joel?” You sniffed, quickly dabbing at your damp, swollen eyes with the sleeve of your cardigan. “I’m confused. What in the world are you doing here? Is this even allowed?”

“It’s fine, Mila. I asked one of the flight attendants, she said it was okay so long as he agreed to it.” He put on his seatbelt and glanced over, noticing that your own seatbelt remained unfastened. Reaching over, Joel grabbed the two straps and pulled them around your hips, buckling it for you. He then gave it a firm tug to make sure it was secure. He felt the way you were looking at him and murmured, “Just wanna make sure you’re safe, baby. That’s all.”

“Joel,” You whispered his name thickly. “Seriously, what are you doing back here?”

Joel’s eyes met yours. “If I can get just a few more hours with you, I’m gonna take them. Camila, I will take every last second I can get with you, alright?”

“But—”

You stopped, clamping your mouth shut as a fresh batch of hot tears threatened to spill over.

“C’mere.” He cupped your cheek with his opposite hand and delicately tucked your face into the spot between his neck and his collarbone, soothing you softly, “I’m here, baby. It’s okay, I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

You clutched fistfuls of his denim jacket and clung to him desperately—it was almost as if you’d been clinging onto dear life itself.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Joel promised. “We’re gonna be okay, sweetheart. We’re gonna be okay.”

But that couldn’t have been father from the truth.

You and Joel weren’t going to be okay.

You knew that.

And he did too.

Charles De Gaulle Airport

Paris, France 

September 25th, 2002

21:00 Hours

“You’re still in Paris?” Sarah shrieked loudly.

Wincing, Joel pulled his Nokia away from his ear.

She had nearly blown his goddamn eardrum out.

“Please tell me this is some kind of sick joke?”

He sighed heavily, tiredly rubbing at the side of his face with his opposite hand.

He should have known, expected even, that Sarah wouldn’t take the news of his current predicament all too well—she wouldn’t take it well at all.

Joel brought his phone back to his ear. “Sorry, but unfortunately this ain’t a joke, babygirl,” he replied to her after a minute, letting out another sigh. Joel glanced across the crowded airport lounge and he squinted over at the big digital sign hanging above the airline’s counter displaying all the details of his flight home to Austin, Texas. Even after about four hours, it still flashed red, signaling to everyone the flight was still very much delayed due to the harsh weather conditions on the route. Like Joel, several other passengers were growing restless. “We were supposed to take off a few hours ago, but there’s a pretty bad storm on the East Coast—”

Sarah cut him off with a dramatic groan.

“Oh, come on man! Are you fucking serious?”

“Hey now, you had best watch your language!” He chastised his teenaged daughter. “Don’t you think for one second that I ain’t gonna ground your little behind from halfway across the world, missy. I will ground you right from this airport.” He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Christ, I leave you alone with Uncle Tommy for one weekend—”

“Tell me you’ll be home by tomorrow night, dad.”

He could hear the disappointment in her tone.

As if she already knew she would be let down.

Joel couldn’t blame her.

“I’m not sure when I’ll be home,” he admitted. “It’s lookin’ like the flight might get even canceled.”

“But tomorrow’s your birthday!” Sarah cried. “You have to be home for your birthday.” There’s a long, silent pause on her end of the line, but just as Joel was about to ask her if she was still there, she said in a sad, devastated voice, “It was supposed to be a surprise, but Nana and Grandpa are coming into town tomorrow. We planned a big birthday dinner, even ordered a special cake and everything. You’re always working on your birthday, we haven’t had a chance to properly celebrate it together in years.”

Joel’s heart sank, the guilt creeping in. “Sarah, I’m sorry, babygirl—”

“You just can’t be stuck in Paris, dad. You can’t—”

Suddenly, he heard Tommy in the background.

“Wait a damn minute, what did you just say? He’s stuck where, now? You’ve gotta be—here, give me the phone, kiddo.” There’s another long pause and then his younger brother’s voice came on the line. “What the hell do you mean you’re stuck in Paris?”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” Joel replied, flatly.

“You better be fuckin’ talkin’ about Paris, Texas.”

“Christ, Tommy! Watch your fuckin’ mouth around my daughter,” he hissed, knowing damn good and well that Sarah was standing beside him, listening to him. “I’m stranded at the goddamn airport here in France. I’ve been sittin’ on my ass for hours now just waitin’ around. My flight’s delayed due to that big storm over on the East Coast,” he explained. “I don’t know how long I’m gonna be here since they grounded all air traffic to the States. Nothin’s flyin’ out in that direction right now.”

“Oh c’mon, that can’t be true! Somethin’s gotta be flyin’ out of that airport to the United States. Have you tried switchin’ airlines?”

Annoyed, Joel snorted and rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Tommy, that ain’t how it fuckin’ works, you moron. Nothin’ is flyin’ out in that direction right now,” his voice was firm as he repeated himself. “That really so goddamn fuckin’ hard to understand?”

“Those Europeans put somethin’ in your water?”

“The hell you fuckin’ talkin’ about?”

“‘Cause your ass is crankier than usual, brother.”

Joel pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his composure.

Even in his late twenties, Tommy refused to grow the fuck up and it often drove him to his wits end.

“Look, this long distance call is costin’ me a damn fortune, so listen and listen good, ‘cause I ain’t got a whole lot of time left,” Joel snapped. “I need you to do me a real big favor, alright?” Without waiting for a response from his brother, he continued, “It’s Sunday, so I need you to make sure that Sarah got all of her homework done this weekend. But check it for yourself—and don’t let her lie to you, Tommy. She’ll swear to you she did it, even if she didn’t. I’ll also need you to take her to school tomorrow. She can’t be late again. Her homeroom teacher already chewed me out for droppin’ her off after first bell. I need you to get her there before eight o’ clock. Do you think you can handle that for me?”

Tommy clicked his tongue. “Sorry I wasn’t listenin’ to you, what did you just say?”

Joel’s jaw clenched. “Tommy, I swear to Christ—”

He laughed. “I’m just fuckin’ with you, Joel. I got it all handled, okay? Uncle Tommy to the rescue.”

“Uncle Tommy’s a fuckin’ idiot,” Joel mumbled. “It ain’t a joke. Can I trust you to do this for me or do I need to call Mrs Adler and ask her for her help?”

“I’m a little offended,” Tommy scoffed out. “I think I’ve been takin’ real good care of Sarah on my own over these last few days since you’ve been gone. I mean, she’s alive and she’s breathin’ ain’t she?”

“Tommy—”

“Relax, Joel. I’ll check out her homework tonight, I promise. And I’ll get her to school tomorrow, make sure she ain’t late. You can trust me. Alright?”

“Not like I’ve got much of a choice,” he muttered.

“That’s the spirit.”

Joel rolled his eyes. “I’ve gotta go. Tell Sarah I love her and I’ll do my best to make it home on time for that not so surprise special birthday dinner Mama and Pop are comin’ into town for tomorrow night.”

“You got it, big brother.”

Joel ended the call and then shoved his Nokia into the pocket of his faded, black denim jacket.

He had to get back home by tomorrow night.

If he didn’t, Sarah would be absolutely crushed.

He’d spent his last three birthdays working double shifts just to help make ends meet—but ever since he finally got his construction business going with Tommy, the hours had been even more brutal now that it was just the two of them doing big jobs. He swore both to himself and to Sarah he would try to take more time off—for birthdays, holidays, soccer tournaments, dance recitals. To spend more of his time with her.

So far, he hadn’t been able to keep his word.

He felt like a jackass for it, but what could he do?

It wasn’t just about paying the bills anymore.

Sarah would be turning fourteen next year.

In a few years, he’d be putting her through college.

He needed to work to secure her future for her.

Joel sank back into his chair, taking a look around; his dark eyes scanned the lounge with disinterest.

That’s when you caught his attention.

Caught it and held onto it with a vice like grip.

Joel’s throat went dry.

Christ, you were so fucking beautiful.

Dark brown curls, soft skin the color of deep sand.

Your white sundress only accentuated the warmth of your smooth complexion, giving you a glow that was so radiant it knocked the wind from his lungs, making it hard for him to catch an even breath.

You were sitting in the row of chairs opposite his, a couple chairs down. He couldn’t be too sure, but it seemed like you were traveling alone—the chair on your left was empty and the one on your right held your tan leather satchel bag. Your nose was buried deep into a worn out, paperback book and he took notice of the way you would take the ballpoint pen that you had tucked behind your ear, using it to jot down notes on the crinkled, yellowing pages every so often. Then you would put the pen back behind your ear with a the tiniest, satisfied little grin.

Joel swallowed, his throat bobbing harshly.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

You must have felt his stare because you suddenly looked up from your book, meeting his gaze. You’d seemed a bit startled at first, but then flashed him a pleasant, friendly smile.

Embarrassed, Joel quickly turned away from you.

Way to go you fuckin’ idiot, he thought to himself, silently. She probably thinks you’re a damn creep.

He feigned a sudden interest in the airplane that is parked right outside the gate, the very same plane he was supposed to have boarded four hours ago.

“Êtes-vous coincé ici aussi?”

The sweet, feminine voice came from beside him.

Startled, Joel looked to see you’d moved, and now occupied the once empty seat next to him.

“Uh, sorry. I don’t speak French,” he sputtered out nervously.

“Oh, I’m so sorry about that,” You said, making the effortless transition from French to English. “I just assumed, but I shouldn’t have.” Tossing him a soft and apologetic smile, you asked, “So then, you are an American too?” Of course, there was no reason to ask such a question when the answer was quite obvious, but you were trying to get a conversation with him going.

“Yeah.” Joel winced, mentally kicking himself over how curt he’d sounded. “I’m from Texas.”

Your hazel green eyes glimmered with amusement and you flashed him a brilliant smile that made his heart skip a beat or two inside his chest.

“I thought I detected a hint of a Southern drawl.”

“Oh trust me, it ain’t just a hint, darlin’.”

You threw your head back slightly, laughing. “Well, hello there cowboy,” You teased him, playfully. You were even more stunning up close and all he could do was hope that you couldn’t tell how nervous he was underneath the surface—eager to be chatting up a stunning woman like you, but still nervous.

“So what did you ask me just a minute ago?”

“I asked if you’ve been stuck here like me.”

Joel grinned, feeling a little more courageous.

“Ain’t it obvious what flight I’m waitin’ on, angel?”

“Oh very much so, cowboy.” Grinning back at him, you leaned back into your chair and made yourself comfortable. “I’m waiting on that same flight too.”

Joel chuckled. “At this rate we’d get to Austin a lot faster by swimmin’ across the Atlantic.”

“It’s too bad I don’t know how to swim. Otherwise, I’d say let’s get paddling,” You kidded, causing him to laugh again. “How long were you here in Paris?”

“Few days,” he answered. “Buddy of mine married his longtime girlfriend here. I was his best man.”

You wrinkled your nose at him. “Really?”

Amused, he asked, “Somethin’ wrong with that?”

“I mean, getting married in the most romantic city in the entire world? Don’t you think that’s just a bit cliché?”

Joel shrugged. “I suppose it is,” he agreed. “Come to think of it, can’t get more cliché than that. But I couldn’t say no to Wyatt. He’s been my best friend since we were in diapers,” he explained. “He asked me to be his best man. I couldn’t say no to him, no matter how fuckin’ cliché the whole thing was—”

He suddenly stopped, face burning.

“Sorry darlin’,” he apologized, sheepishly. “I should mind my manners. It ain’t polite to curse when I’m in the presence of a lovely lady.”

Your laugh sent a pleasant shiver down his spine.

Waving a hand, you assured him, “It’s totally fine. I don’t it mind at all.”

Joel smiled, angling his body towards you.

His nerves hadn’t disappeared, not completely.

But as the seconds ticked by, he felt more at ease.

Talking to you felt as natural as breathing.

Joel decided to turn the tables. “What about you? How long were you here for?”

“Oh, I wasn’t. I’m actually just here on a layover.”

“From where?”

“Somalia.”

Joel frowned. “I damn near failed geography when I was in high school. You’re gonna have to help me out a little here, darlin’. Where’s Somalia?”

“East Africa.”

“Africa?” His eyebrows shot up in surprise. He had never been into traveling—he preferred to stay put in his bubble in Texas. Flying out to Paris for Wyatt and the wedding had been Joel’s first time leaving the United States. He never had a desire to go and see the world, nor the interest. But he would have been lying if he said you hadn’t piqued his interest with such an unexpected answer. “What were you doin’ down there?”

“Working. I’m a traveling physician.”

Joel’s mouth fell open slightly. “You’re a doctor?”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Is that such a surprise?”

“How old are you?”

“It’s not polite to ask a lady her age,” You smacked his arm playfully. “Don’t you know that?”

He flushed. “Sorry, it’s just—you seem a bit young to be a doctor, that’s all. I wouldn’t have thought.”

Tilting your head to the side, you asked, “Well how old do you think I am, cowboy? And don’t lie to me just to stay in my good graces. I won’t be offended by your guess, I promise.”

“Twenty five?” Joel guessed, honestly. “Or twenty six?”

“You flatter me, but no. I’ll be thirty in December.”

“So tell me, doc. How long were you in Africa?”

“About a month,” You replied. “I was there with my team to visit some of the villages in Somalia to see families in need of basic healthcare. We offer them medicine and supplies, we offer vaccines. I tend to the children, mostly. I specialize in pediatrics.”

Joel couldn’t help but stare at you in awe.

“What?”

“That’s just really impressive,” he admitted. After a minute, he found himself asking, “Now that you’re done workin’ down there, are you goin’ back home to Austin for a while? That where you’re from?”

You shook your head, and he hoped he didn’t look as disappointed as he felt.

“I’m from Laredo,” You said. “But then I moved for college. I did pre-med at The University of Texas in Austin.”

“You visitin’ your old stompin’ grounds?” he joked.

“Something like that.” You giggled. “One of my old professors, he invited me to give a lecture to some of his students who are interested in medicine and might want to pursue careers in the field—I’ll only be in Austin for a day, then it’s off to my next work assignment.”

Joel shot you another incredulous look.

“What? Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

“I just figured you’d have to be some old geezer to give a lecture to college students.”

“Nope. You just have to be really good at what you do,” You winked at him. “That’s all.”

Before Joel could say another word, an attendant at the airline counter picked up their radio to make an announcement over the intercom—the flight to Austin had been canceled and all passengers were required to book a new one for the following day.

There was a collective groan in the lounge.

“Well, that’s a bummer,” You let out a tiny sigh and stood up, slinging the long, thick strap of your bag over your shoulder. Turning towards him, you gave him a warm smile. “Thank you for talking to me. It was nice having some company.” Lightly touching his shoulder, you said, “Good luck in getting home tomorrow, cowboy.”

Retracting your hand, you whirled around.

Joel jumped to his feet, ready to stop you.

But it was too late.

With the hustle and bustle of everyone scrambling towards the airline ticket counter, he’d quickly lost you in the massive crowd of people.

Joel craned his neck, searching around for you.

“C’mon,” he muttered. “Where’d you go?”

Finally, after a couple of minutes, Joel spotted you walking away from one of the counters with a new plane ticket in hand.

He didn’t even have to think twice about it.

Making his way through the crowd, Joel rushed to the counter and up to the same blond woman who had assisted you. “That girl who was just here, the one with the dark curly hair,” he said. “Can you tell me which flight she booked?”

The attendant gave him a strange look. “Yes she is on the first flight available to Austin,” she stated in a thick, French accent. “Seven in the morning.”

“I need to be on that flight,” Joel told her. Noticing the hint of annoyance on her face, he added in the most polite tone he could muster, “Please. And I’d like the seat next to hers, if it’s possible.”

She shot him another odd look, but typed away at her keyboard and checked the computer screen.

“My apologies, Monsieur. But the seat next to her has already been booked by another passenger.”

“What ‘bout one close to her, then?” He tried.

“I am afraid the only seats left available are at the very back of the plane or business class.”

Joel sighed. He pulled his wallet out from the back pocket of his jeans and handed her his credit card.

“Fine. I’ll just upgrade to a business class seat.”

The attendant nodded. “Of course, Monsieur.”

Once he was all set, he thanked her and started to make his way through the lounge and towards the exit. He walked outside and took a look around the terminal, his eyebrows pulling together.

He knew the chances of finding you were slim, but he took comfort in knowing that he would see you in the morning on the flight back to Austin.

Until then, he had about nine hours to kill.

“Suppose there’s worse cities to be stuck in,” Joel muttered to himself. Most places had translations, and he figured he could get by on his own alright. The hotel he’d stayed at with the wedding party, it wasn’t too far from the airport—after a drink and a bite to eat, he could book a room for the night and crash until the morning.

He started down the sidewalk, but then stopped—out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of your curls and his stomach fluttered eagerly.

You were standing in line waiting for a cab holding what appeared to be a map in your hands.

Before his mind and body could even try making a connection, he found himself walking over to you.

“Hey there,” Joel greeted as he approached you.

You looked up from your map and beamed at him.

“Hey! Did you manage to get a new flight home?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I did. I’m on the first one out to Austin at seven o’ clock in the mornin’.”

Your smile widened. “I’m on that one too!”

“You don’t say,” Joel said in a nonchalant tone. He didn’t want to admit he already knew that. “Well, if that just ain’t a funny coincidence.” His eyes fell to the map in your hands. “What’cha got there?”

“A map to the city.”

He laughed. “Gonna go sightseein’ or what?”

“I am indeed going sightseeing, actually.”

Joel’s smile faltered. “You serious? At this time?”

“I’ve been to Paris a couple of times before. I have always wanted to see it at night, but never had the guts to do it,” You confessed. “But here I am stuck for the next nine hours, so I suppose tonight is the night I finally do it.”

“You’re crazy.”

“I prefer the term adventurous.” Folding your map, you looked at him. “What about you, cowboy? You have anything planned for your night?”

Joel shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Was gonna go grab a bite to eat and then get a hotel room to crash in.”

He was tempted, oh so tempted, to ask you to join him for a late dinner and drinks—just when he had worked up the courage to go for it, you spoke.

“Did you get to see the city while you were here?”

“I didn’t see much of anythin’,” he admitted. “With the weddin’ and all, I didn’t have the time. It ain’t a big deal, though. I ain’t a big sightseein’ kinda guy to begin with, you know?”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Wait a minute, I just want to make sure I have this straight—you’ve got an entire commitment free night in Paris, and you’re going to spend it cooped up in some hotel room?”

Joel shrugged. “I reckon I am.”

“No way.” You grabbed his arm and started to pull him over towards an available cab. “You’re coming with me tonight.”

“Wait just a minute, darlin’—”

Ignoring him, you continued to drag him along. “It would a crime if you didn’t see this city before you go back home,” You stated, opening the back door to the car. You tried shoving him into the backseat but he caught himself on the roof of the vehicle.

“Whoa, whoa. Hold on there a second, angel,” he said with a chortle. “You’re really just gonna spend a whole night in a foreign city with a complete and total stranger you just met half an hour ago? What if I’m some kinda serial killer?”

You blinked. “Are you a serial killer?”

“Well no I ain’t a serial killer, but my point is—”

“Then we’re fine,” You chirped. “Come on, let’s go. There’s no time to waste.”

Pushing past him, you climbed into the backseat.

“You coming?” You asked over your shoulder.

Joel chuckled, sliding in next to you.

“Guess I am.”

He shut the door behind him—this was happening and yet somehow it didn’t even feel real.

A chance to spend the entire night with you?

It just didn’t feel real to him.

“I’m Camila,” You introduced yourself, extending a hand towards him.

He took your hand, holding it in his.

“Camila,” Joel repeated with a smile. “That’s a real pretty name for a real pretty girl.”

You grinned.

“How about you, cowboy? You got a name?”

“Joel. Joel Miller.”

You gave his hand a squeeze.

“Well Joel Miller, it seems like we aren’t complete and total strangers anymore, are we now?”

His own grin widened. “No, darlin’ I suppose we ain’t.”

#queued to post #fic: talk tonight #joel miller x ofc #joel miller x original character #Joel miller x original female character #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller story #joel miller series #pedro pascal characters

[writefightandflightclub]

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

[mountingpulisic]

IT ISN'T THE SAME

“mason, what the hell are you doing here? shouldn’t you be on a plane right now?” you asked, dumbfounded by the chelsea midfielder on your doorstep.

when you heard the aggressive knocking at your door at one am you thought it was going to an intruder, not your idiot of an ex-boyfriend, mason mount.

not caring enough to answer your question, mason brushes past you. entering your home as if it was his own, stopping in the foyer.

“tell me it’s not true.” mason demanded, “tell me that declan is lying.”

you wouldn’t have any issue debunking whatever mason was asking about however you just needed to know first what the claim actually was.

“mason what are you talking about?”

“tell me you didn’t take the job, y/n.” you two had spoken at the same time, simultaneously interupting each other.

silence then fell between the two of you, and your lack of a response confirmed mason’s worries.

“why?”

“why? i don’t know maybe because it’s my dream job mason? the job i’ve busted my ass off for the past year? the promotion i rightfully earned?” you scoffed.

you had taken a job offering a few days ago. however, the corporate office was based in sydney, australia, exactly ten thousand five hundreds and fifty-three miles away for london, away from your family, away from your friends, away from him.

if the two of you were still together, you wouldn’t have jumped at the opportunity the moment your boss called and told you about the position. you would’ve called mason first and spoke about how much the change was going to affect your relationship. listed the pro's and cons of the move, biggest one being mason. you would’ve decided then and there if your career was more important than your relationship with the footballer.

however, you two weren’t together. having broken up two weeks prior due to mason wanting to focus on the world cup. you strangely understood when he confined into you about it, knowing that a distraction wasn’t something he needed during a crucial moment in his career.

“please just don’t go, y/n. there are other jobs? jobs that are here london?” mason pleaded.

you looked at him quizzically to see if he was actually being serious right now.

“okay, mason. since your asking that of me, why don’t i ask you aren’t there any more chances at a world cup? it comes every four years, you being “distracted” for this one wouldn’t hurt, right?”

mason shook his head, “that isn’t the same, y/n.” he defended.

“why isn’t it the same, mase? because i’m asking you to give up something you love? is it only okay when you do it? not me?” you didn’t mean to raise your voice, but with the anger brewing inside you, it started to project higher naturally.

shaking his head frustrated, mason’s hands dragged down his face causing him to let out an angry exhale.

“you don’t even need to bloody work, y/n! isn’t it like every girls dream to be taken care of by their boyfriend?”

“no, mason it’s not and last time i checked, you weren’t my boyfriend.”

you couldn’t believe the nerve on this guy right now, asking you to give up your career when you were so willingly okay with the fact of him breaking up with you to focus more on his.

“we are on a break until the world cup ends, you agreed to that.”

“a break or a break up? what does it even matter mason?! you’re still asking me to put by career on the back burner while you're off living your childhood dream.”

“yes, but the thing about the world cup and my job darling, is that i’ll be back home, you are deciding to permanently change your postal code!” this time, it was mason who shouted.

you were positive steam was coming from his ears as he turned red from all the anger.

“if you are asking me to choose between my career and you mason, i’m choosing my career.”

if it was as if the words you just spoke, broke something inside of mason. eyes softening drastically, words he was beginning to speak had stopped in the middle of his throat.

mouth gaping open and closed, he stared at you in disbelief.

“don’t you dare look at me like that, because you know damn well you would’ve done chosen the same thing.”

with that, you opened your front door, that not even thirty minutes ago mason came knocking on.

“i think you should go now mason; you wouldn’t want to miss your flight."

part two

#mason mount #mason mount fanfic #mason mount x y/n #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine

[littlemessyjessi]

“Couple of Chaos” : A Kim Namjoon/RM Commissioned Request: Plus Size Reader, Messy Reader

Kim Namjoon x Reader, Plus Size Reader, Messy Reader, Established Relationship

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Prompt: Namjoonie and his partner who is just as much of a mess as him. A darling. A lovely person. Love of his life. But just as much of a chaotic mess as he is, lol.

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“Life is the messy bits.” - Lisa Friedman

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Headcanons:  How Namjoon and Reader deal with the both of them being messy as hell. 

First and freaking foremost, you’re both disasters

just full on

You’re both equally chaotic

one as bad as the other

and yet ya’ll will get on each other’s nerves so bad with messes

like…. ya’ll both do it and yet when it’s the other person it’s somehow terrible

hypocrites, the both of yuns

that being said, in a way, ya’ll kinda complete each other

Namjoon is a perpetual passport loser right? 

And I’ve lost count of how many times he’s lost his air pods

Well, cue…. you

His personal storage locker… or purse.  Whichever you want to refer to it

If you carry a purse, just snatch his shit from him and keep up with it so this man can actually board a plane

If you don’t carry a purse but wear a bra, stick it in the boulder holder

If you don’t do either, put it in your pocket for him

If you don’t have pockets then you have bigger problems to worry about that Namjoon-ah and his lack of ability to keep up with his shit

Now, assuming that you do have these things, you do this so often that Namjoon just knows you have them. 

Needs chapstick? If you’re in a relatively private company, he just goes into your pocketeses for it

Passport? Ok, so Namjoon is smart as fuck. We get it.  However, he do be having some primo himbo energy at times.  

Picture this: Airport.  Namjoonie lost passport.  “Oh, wait a second.  I know where it is!”  Just turns and sticks his hand in your bra and deep sea dives in the titties until he has found what he’s looking for. Assuming that you have titties. If you don't, well again- homeboy is just deep sea diving in whatever area you're currently keeping his belongings.

meanwhile, the eyes of everyone around him have been scarred and you’ve just been violated in front of the entire airport 

he realizes this in about 3 seconds and all he can do is give you that cute dimpled smile

of course he’s forgiven.  It’s Joonie.  If you don’t forgive him then I’ll be along directly to deliver an ass whoopin'. Let's not play with sweet Namu's precious feelings. He's an angel and a perfectly wonderful person. Fuck with him and you fuck with me. And I have raged stored from the age of three. I am now in my 30s. I have it and I will use it.

so yeah

and going back to ya’ll getting on each other’s nerves

doom piles

There.  I said it.   

Ya’ll both got doom piles and junk drawers and whole ass closets just full of random crap

and you nearly kill each other over it on a regular basis

“Jagiyaaaaaaaaaaa! Come on! There is a full on mountain of stuff here and you can’t even close this drawer.”  

“Namjoon, would you like to discuss the entire guest bedroom full of figurines? Or perhaps, the closet full of books?  Or maybe, just maybe, you would like to explain to me why there is an drawer in our bedroom full of baby things when neither one of us has any plans of having children anytime soon?” 

“....” *Joon bites lip and narrows eyes

“....” *you lift a brow*

“Alright, jagi. My mistake. You hungry?” 

“Yes, I’m starving.” 

“Wonderful.” he smirks.  “Where would you like to eat?” 

Your head slowly turns around. 

You narrow your eyes at his smug ass face. 

“How fucking dare you, Kim Namjoon?” 

And he has the audacity to smirk at you because he knows he bested you cause you can’t decided where to eat to save your life.

Jokes on him though because you just needed a project.  It was sorting through your doom piles but now that he’s pissed you off it quickly changed to annoying the ever living hell out of him. 

Lowkey though, jokes actually on you because Joon loves it when your fiesty and sometimes purposefully does this shit just to rile you up. 

You also know this about him though.  Which is why you left the junk drawer open and also why you got sassy.   

He likes that you’re a mess and you love that about him too.

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"This is the stuff that drives me crazy This is the stuff that's getting to me lately In the middle of my little mess I forget how big I'm blessed"

- This is the Stuff, Francesca Battistelli

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Members Reaction to the Deities of Destruction and Disaster: 

Seokjin:  (A/N: omfg Seokjin you did not have to be so aggressively attractive. And that goes for you too, Namjoon)

Long suffering sigh.  The hyung energy is strong here.   It’s part frustration and part pure bewilderment as to why, how and what even is he going to do with the both of you.  That being said, Seokjinnie thinks the two of you are super cute together.  You definitely get scolded but also, he cracks easily because come on.  Look at ya’ll.  Thanks God every day that Namjoon uses you as his purse though.  He is so tired of standing around in an airport, lol. 

Yoongi:  (A/N: Cue the dreamy sigh. Just look at them. Look at the smiles. Look at the damn ARMS!)

I’m gonna be so for real with you right now.  He does not give a shit about the mess. I mean, don’t get his things in a mess but if you roll up in a 2003 lifted Tacoma, open the door and a bunch of shit falls out… I mean, maybe he might give you a little bit of a lecture but honestly?  That’s ya’ll’s problem, lol.   But also stop losing ya’ll fucking airpods, the both of you.   If a bra works then do that because he will not be loaning you another pair ever again.  And he refuses to talk about why. 

Hoseok: (A/N: Mother of God. I have the fattest crush on Hoseok. Also peep that cute little Kookie. And how DARE you attack me like this, Namjoon?!)

Never in the history of ever was anyone annoyed more by this than Hoseok, lol.  However, he doesn’t bitch.  Oddly enough, he never complains about it.  He never bitches.  He never lectures.  He does, however, come over to hang out and help the both of you clean your mess.  Hoseok is great for body doubling if you have ADHD.  However, if you have an issue with him doing the cleaning it might be an issue.  It makes him itch and he needs to scratch it.   

Jimin:  (A/N: It's unspeakable how much handsomeness is in this gif.)

An actual ANGEL for body doubling if you have ADHD and you’re trying to handle the depression hoarder situation in your bedroom.  Super respectful and understanding.  He just enjoys spending time with his loved ones so he would gladly come help if you want it or just keep the both of you company.  Because clearly body doubling does not with you and Joon together. You just make it a bigger mess.  Acknowledging this: Jimin finds this chaos hilarious and doesn’t do anything to stop.  Ya’ll are wild and unkempt and honestly? Jiminie is here for it. 

Side note: I am particularly attached to Jimin in this gif. Look how beautiful. Look how handsome. I swear, that man is dangerous. We are all very, very, very lucky that he's such a sweetheart because don't act like if he asked you for a kidney that you wouldn't immediately start looking for something to carve with . And if that happened to be a spoon, we'd all just accept our fate. Don't lie.

Extra Sidenote: Namjoon be looking extra delectable. *chef's kiss*

Taehyung:  (A/N: First of all, damn Namjoon. Those arms. Sweet lord. I'm looking, Joonie. Respectfully, of course..... but I do be lookin. Second, does Taehyung not look like the most precious creature in all the land?)

A precious darling. He does not give a shit about the mess.  He just loves his hyung.  He loves his hyung’s love.  Ya’ll are special to him and that’s how you are.  He thinks it is part of ya’ll’s charm and your charm as a couple.  Ya’ll are a messy couple but not in the having your dirty laundry out for everyone to see way. In a “aw, Jiminie, look at them.  They are such tragic disasters but they’re disasters together.” kind of way.  He will find a way to make it romantic no matter what. 

Jungkook:  (A/N: Just Jungkook out here living his best y/n life, honestly, lol. )

Ok, so here’s the thing, lol.  Jungkookie has had his own issues with messes here and there. Also, let's be honest.... he's got the fattest crush on Namjoon, lol. His crush on Namjoon may even rival the crush I have on Hoseok. Like, I kinda doubt it because there ain't much I wouldn't do for that man but still. Jungkook loves him's Namjoonie. He loves all that Namjoon-ah is associated with. He's his biggest fan, lol. With you, it is honestly the same. Like... his hyung is in love? Who is this person that has captured the heart of the most magnificent Namjoonie? If you managed to do that and Namjoon is happy.... honestly Jungkook adores you. Regardless of the hopeless fucking messes that the both of you clearly are. He and Taehyung share this but in addition to this, Jungkookie will literally help you with anything you need. He just wants to hang out with you both so he'll do like his Jimin hyung and either just chill while you sort or he'll help you. Or just hang out in the chaos and not solve anything, lol. He just loves his hyung and he loves his hyung's love as well. It's as simple as that.

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading my content and thank you so much to @alisoncdariel for commissioning this piece! I hope you enjoy it!

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#kim namjoon #namjoon #kim namjoon imagine #kim namjoon headcanons #bts #kpop #bangtan sonyeondan #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x ps reader #ps reader #plus size reader #kim namjoon x plus size reader #bts rm #rm imagine #rm headcanons #rm x reader #rm x ps reader #rm x plus size reader #messy reader #bts headcanons #bts reactions

[3d-wifey]

And They'd Find Us In A Week - Chapter 2

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 4.2k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! A/N: Don't be scared to click the embedded links, you might get an auditory surprise (Ai voice cloning works wonders)

Past (ii) - You

[16 & 17] - THE CAPITOL

The man before you has a ten-year streak of picking which tribute will win. Or, at least, that’s what he’s been claiming for the past twenty minutes or so. He said it has something to do with a lot of strategic planning and background research, but at this point, he could say it had something to do with the phases of the moon and you’d still nod along. You had tried to listen closely when he first started talking, but—well, okay, that’s a lie. Everything these Capitols say goes in one ear and out the other. Actually, it doesn’t even make it as far as the first ear.

“I know how it sounds, but it’s definitely more than luck, I can assure you.” His hand catches your shoulder in his attempt to hold your very fleeting attention, trailing down your back more and more in his excitement. “Well, I won’t bore you with the details, they might be a touch too complicated for you to understand.” He laughs and you smile coyly, sidestepping his touch. You’re no stranger to the heavy-handed petting of men and women with ulterior motives, no matter how innocent they try to play it off as being at first.

It’s nighttime in the arena, and most of the tributes are getting a spare few hours of sleep before the nightmare continues. Meaning this watch party has turned into an actual party. Honestly, you don’t even know how you got trapped in a conversation with this guy.

You sip delicately from your straw, eyes roaming over the room of mingling bodies and wall-length screens depicting the games live—eager to look at literally anything but him. And that’s when you spot him: your saving grace walking by himself with his hands in his pockets.

You make eye contact with Finnick and smile, waving him over. He only hesitates for a split second, but it’s long enough that you worry he’ll leave you to fend for yourself. A fear that’s only abated when he calls out your name and approaches with a mystified grin.

“Finn!” Thank god. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” You exclaim in the most sickeningly saccharine Capitol voice you can muster. He stares with wide blue-green eyes, bemusedly mouthing ‘Finn?’ at you but you ignore him in favor of turning back to the man who somehow looks more starstruck than before.

“I’m sorry, but Finnick here promised me a dance.” You explain, pulling an excuse out of your ass. You loop your arm with Finnick’s, practically hanging off of him, and you hope beyond hope that Finnick is good at reading social cues. It should be obvious, right? You’re a big neon sign flashing ‘HELP ME’ in no uncertain terms. 

“I did?” He asks, clearly confused at such a friendly greeting, but you stare up at him pleadingly and you must be projecting enough distress that he gets the memo. His back straightens in understanding and he smiles at the other man. “I did. But you know us victors, as slippery as an eel.” The other man lets out a flustered laugh. Finnick tilts his head as the band starts up. “Oh, I love this song. You don’t mind, do you? Thanks.”

You only have a few seconds to wonder what the hell an eel is before Finnick takes your glass out of your hand and hands it over to the sputtering man.

Your arms are still looped together as he leads you to the area where the other couples have decided to dance. 

“May I have this dance?” He teases and you get a strong sense of déjà vu.

“Well, we’re already here, aren’t we?” You laugh. You loop your arms behind his neck, and big hands grab either side of your waist. 

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this.” He sighs, any chance of him being serious is shattered by his smirk.

“What do you mean?” Your brows furrow before raising to touch your hairline when he spins you.

“You know; you being a damsel in distress, and me saving you by being dashingly handsome and charming.” He clears his throat obnoxiously and puffs up his chest playfully. You’re sure if his hands were free he’d stretch to flex his muscles.

“Mhm,” You hum doubtfully. “Those are…certainly words that could be said with your name in the same sentence.” 

“...I think that’s the most roundabout way anyone has ever insulted me before.” His jaw drops before he grins down at you in amused surprise. You laugh at his face, sobering up a little.

“But thank you, Finnick. Seriously. I’m sorry I keep relying on you to pull me out. It’s just…” You don’t know what else to do.

“No, it’s alright. It’s fun, honestly. We rarely get to exercise the little authority we have over them.” His mouth shrugs instead of his shoulders, an endearing motion. “Better enjoy it while you can, right?’’ 

You nod.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He straightens up subtly as your probing stare looks him up and down. “Don’t take this the wrong way. You look great, but you don’t really seem like a suit kind of guy.” There’s nothing about his outward appearance that gives away how uncomfortable he is, but you only need to talk to him for a few minutes to know this isn’t the sort of thing he’d choose to wear. Not that he looks bad in it; far from it. The coat is tailored to sinch at his waist and a few buttons of his undershirt are undone. The color of the jacket complements his skin tone quite well and the little pocket square makes his eyes pop. 

“Thank you. Try telling that to my prep team.” He rolls his eyes. “Apparently, telling them I feel like a circus monkey playing dress up isn’t enough to dissuade them, so I might need a second opinion.”

Circus? "Wait, you’ve seen a monkey before?” You ask in awed disbelief. His mouth moves wordlessly at your enthusiasm.

“Well…not in person, per se.”

Past (ii) - Finnick

[16 & 17] - THE NEXT DAY

Finnick pours the rest of his drink into one of the potted plants he walks past, unbuttoning his suit coat once he's out of sight. This really is the last time he's letting his stylist dress him up in this getup. He rubs his temple in an attempt to soothe his growing migraine. As far as he's concerned, his job here is done. He has no reason to keep watching the games. His tributes already died. He pushes the doors open to the wide balcony and stops in his tracks. Of the many things Finnick expects to find out here, your crying isn't one of them. His first thought is that you're mourning your tributes. His second thought is that Snow got to you. It's an odd time for Snow to drop that kind of proposition on you. There are too many people here, too open for that kind of conversation. He scratches that out and circles back to his first thought. When he wasn't busy rubbing elbows with sponsors, he was keeping an eye out for your tributes. Switching periodically from his kids to yours and he can't, for the life of him, explain why. They got pretty far, considering they were malnourished and had no combat training. The boy got crushed under a tree after an earthquake and the girl stayed with him until he died. Though, it wasn't long before a Career shot an arrow through her head. The balcony door shuts behind him, and you whip around. Neither of you says anything as you rush to wipe your face. There’s an awkward lull as you both silently assess each other. "If you tell me it gets easier, I will push you off this balcony." He doesn't answer immediately, instead taking a moment to look at you. God, you're beautiful. Even now, wiping away your tears and your hurt, you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He doesn’t say any of that. "I wasn't going to." He raises his hands placatingly. He waits for you to tell him to leave, but the demand never comes. He almost offers to but decides against it for no other reason than not wanting to leave you out here alone. Instead, he moves closer and leans against the railing. It's quiet between you both as you try to hide your tears. He looks at you from the corner of his eye a few times and scratches an eyebrow with his thumb. It’s odd to think the two of you were laughing and enjoying each other’s company only yesterday. "I cried in a supply closet the first time my kids died." He glances at your surprised face before looking back down at the view. He clears his throat around the words trapped in his throat. He’s never told anyone this before, he’s never wanted to. "A fourteen-year-old girl named Dahlia, and a sixteen-year-old boy named Nyle. They didn't even make it out of the Cornucopia." Nyle was decapitated by a tribute from One and Dahlia's throat was slit by a tribute from Seven. Finnick remembers crying so hard that he threw up in a mop bucket. "Why are you telling me this?" That is a good question. One with an answer Finnick doesn’t want to look too closely at, though it might—scratch that, it definitely has something to do with your big watery eyes staring up at him ingenuously. 

"Your first game as a mentor is always the hardest, and it doesn't get easier. But,” he shrugs and pulls the artfully folded, blue handkerchief out of his breast pocket, and hands it to you. Turns out this suit is good for something, "you do learn what to expect. You get used to that hurt, build up a tolerance to it." At least, he hopes so. This is his third year as a mentor and the burn is still there. How much longer until he tries to extinguish it by using substances? The Morphlings lasted two and four years, respectively. Haymitch lasted two months. You look between him and the handkerchief for a second before using it to wipe at your eyes. "It's completely different than being in the games. It's different watching." You whisper, barely loud enough to be heard over the wind. "Yeah. It is.” That's another thing they don't mention when you become a victor. The after is often worse than the during. It’s a thought he had when he saw you at your Victor Tour celebration. He doesn’t know what exactly made him ask you to dance, it could have been the tenseness you carried in your shoulders like a wounded animal being surrounded, or maybe it was the way your pretty face cracked and shattered like glass the longer the Capitols talked to you.

You were a commendable actor, sure, you’d certainly have fooled anyone else. But you just, you had looked so alone—completely overwhelmed with the piranhas circling you. So he threw you a line.

Your words swim through his head. 

And you want to save me? He didn’t say your assessment was right, in fact, he had ignored what you said entirely. But he never said you were wrong either. He doesn’t suddenly have a savior complex or anything, he’s got no delusions of being some kind of hero. It’s just. He knows how much he would have appreciated it if someone had stepped in on his behalf when he was fourteen, even for just a moment. It would have made all the difference. But there hadn’t been anyone. So, if he has the chance to change that for you—stop the crippling despondency before it sweeps you away—why wouldn’t he?

Finnick won’t overestimate his influence. If Snow gets to you, there’s very little he can do about it. But.

It doesn’t seem like he’s made you the offer yet. Doesn’t that mean something? Snow is nothing if not punctual, very cut-throat in that regard. If he wanted something from you, he would have asked already, right? So maybe, he lets himself think, maybe you’re safe.

He looks up to the sky. One of the many things he hates about the Capitol is the smog. They're in the mountains, but the sky is so polluted it's hard to even see the moon sometimes. "Can you see the stars well in Eleven?" He asks, waving off your attempt to hand him back the handkerchief. You can burn it for all he cares. "Yeah,” you nod. "We focus on agriculture, so there are no mills or factories to pollute the air." You move closer to where he's leaning and look up. It feels almost instinctual to copy you, to get closer and fall into your orbit. "Hmm," he hums, "same for Four. Ships come in and out of the harbor, but I don't think they do much damage." The calmest he's felt in his entire life is when he's staring up at the sky at night, sand under his feet, and waves crashing in the background. "A friend of mine loved looking at the stars. She never knew any of the constellations, so she'd make up her own with stories to go with them." Mags loved telling him all the stories she made up when she was his age. Even after the stroke took her ability to speak, she'd point up at a constellation and have Finnick retell them to her. "My dad knew the real constellations." There's a small, prideful grin on your face that he doubts you even know is there. But he does. He is very aware of it. "He'd tell them to me whenever we came back from harvesting." "The real constellations, huh?” He glances over his shoulder at the glass door leading inside. The game is down to its last few tributes. No one should come looking for either of you. "How about for every real story you tell me, I tell you a made-up one?" He grins at you, the bar of the balcony digging into his back as he turns around. Odd. He can’t remember the last time he’s been alone with someone—someone other than Mags and Annie—and has kept all of his clothes on. "Won't they miss you in there? I mean you’re definitely the main attraction in every room you're in." You nudge him gently with your elbow, looking up at him through wispy eyelashes. Your eyes are still a little red from your earlier crying, but they’re heavy and focused entirely on him. He's used to people flirting with him. Hell, he does it almost as readily as he breathes. But he isn't used to you flirting with him. That tentative way of yours makes him nervous. It’s nothing he’s used to. It feels too real. "I don't care what they think," he shrugs a shoulder, biting his lip to stop from smiling too broadly, "The real party's out here, anyway." You tilt your head, smiling up at him and his ears go warm. This is probably the fifth time he's talked to you and you've never smiled at him like that before.

“Deal.” You hold up your pinky to him, something so openly childish that he can’t help but laugh. 

“Deal.” He locks his pinky with yours and you nod at each other before dropping your hands.

"You see that up there? Those tiny clusters of stars," he watches your finger draw a W between five stars, "are called Cassiopeia. And those five stars above it are called Cepheus. They were husband and wife, queen and king. Cassiopeia offended Poseidon by saying her daughter, Andromeda, was more beautiful than the sea nymphs—close friends of his. So he punished her by sending a flood and a sea monster that would destroy their country unless they sacrificed Andromeda." Finnick looks from the sky to the side of your face as you continue talking. He follows the line of your jaw up to your mouth and watches as your full lips form the words of your story. The moon is full, the sky is bright, and he's entranced by more than just the stars. “After they died, Zeus put them in the sky together because Cepheus was a descendant of one of Zeus's lovers. A little weird, honestly.” Your face scrunches up in a decidedly cute way at the thought. “Cepheus sits with his scepter, and Cassiopeia sits chained to her throne as a punishment by Poseidon. As if having to sacrifice her daughter wasn’t enough. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?" 

“Yeah.” The yellow lights from inside blanket you from behind, while the moon’s white glare reflects in your eyes. “They are.” You catch him staring and look at him expectantly. You're starting to fidget and he realizes he’s been quiet for a concerning amount of time. “My friend…” he pauses and makes a quick decision, "my friend Mags, she calls that one the Turtle and the Fish. Eros was mischievous and vain, as most gods are. He wanted to show off to a sea nymph, so he made a turtle and a fish fall in love to prove his power transcended species. But fish don't live as long as turtles, and once its lover died, the turtle mourned for one hundred years at the bottom of the sea. Poseidon, who felt his subject's grief, put them together amongst the stars for all eternity." He turns to you and finds you staring at him. "What?" He asks with a laugh, embarrassed for whatever reason. "I know it’s pretty simple compared to yours, but—" He cuts himself off when you smile at him again. "No, I liked it." You nod at your own words like you're agreeing with yourself. "It was sweet. Your Poseidon is way nicer than mine. Maybe you can tell your friend one of my stories. To show her how different they are." You shrug like it's a dumb, throwaway idea, before turning away from him in a haste to look back up at the sky. 

He doesn’t understand. How can you just offer something like that like it’s nothing? You clearly loved your father very much and he picked up on the past tense when you talked about him. These stories are quite personal to you and he had assumed you hadn’t wanted them to be shared, but…Maybe he will tell her. 

“Oh. Good. I just—I’m not much of a storyteller, so…I might’ve completely butchered that.” He swears it sounds much better when he retells it to Mags.

“It was great, Finnick. You were great.” You pout up at him and it’s the most unfair shit Finnick’s ever seen. Made even worse by the fact that you’re defending him. To himself. “Can you tell me another one?” You ask guilelessly, and who is Finnick to say no?

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

Present (ii) - Finnick

[ 23 & 24] - District Four 

"Mags: milk and cinnamon," Finnick places two tea cups before the two women, "And, Annie: a spoonful of honey." Mags smiles up at him in thanks as Annie takes a sip. He walks back to the kitchen to pour his own cup. It’s odd. He hadn’t always been a tea drinker. But now he practically puts on a new cup for every occasion, entirely your influence. He rests against the counter, letting it dig into his hip. It wouldn't be long before Snow announced the stipulations for the third Quarter Quell and Finnick can admit in the safety of his own mind that he's nervous. There were whispers among the Capitols and none of it painted a pretty picture. One of his clients informed him about a new Gamemaker, supposedly some kind of creative genius. He rolls his eyes at the thought. Yeah, he bets the guy is absolutely brilliant at torturing children. He drops five sugar cubes into the tea before grabbing a licorice root to stir it with. He joins them on the couch, staring at the sliced berries floating in his cup. There's something in the air. Word travels fast in close circles and it's no secret that there are more and more riots breaking out in the districts. Katniss and Peeta's win is still fresh on everyone's tongue. Snow has stayed quiet and with the Quarter Quell on the horizon, Finnick knows it—he can feel it in the atoms of his very being that it's going to end poorly. Or at the very least, worse than normal. What fresh hell will Snow come up with this time? Snow appears before a cheering crowd, foreboding even through the TV. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is the seventy-fifth year of The Hunger Games. And it was written in the charter of The Games that every twenty-five years, there would be a Quarter Quell to keep fresh for each new generation the memory of those who died in the uprising against The Capitol." He places his cup on the table and leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by Games of a special significance. And now on this, the seventy-fifth anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the third Quarter Quell," Mags grabs onto his arm, frail fingers gripping his wrist. He wonders if she can feel the pulsing of his rapid heartbeat, "as a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of The Capitol. On this, the third Quarter Quell Games the male and female Tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of Victors in each district." Annie lets out a blood-curdling scream and it echoes past Finnick's ears. Her glass shatters on the ground and scalding tea splashes on his feet. He doesn't flinch. Normally, whenever Annie got like this, he would comfort her—talk her through it, but he can't move. The tributes will be reaped from the existing pool of victors and all of the victors of District Four are in this room. Mags’s physical state and Annie’s mental state guarantee one thing: regardless of who gets picked, they won't survive it. He'll be losing someone either way, and that's if he survives. If he survives, because Finnick is the only male victor for Four. There's no doubt, no one volunteering for him. He will be reaped and that, that was just— He rubs at his eyes with the base of his palms, fighting back a migraine. He makes a mental list: he'll be picked, Johanna and Blight will be picked, Chaff will be picked and— His hands move to pull at his roots. There are only two female victors in Eleven. There are only two, but Seeder loves you like she raised you herself. There's still hope, still a chance that you won't be picked, that she'll take your place if you're reaped. You'll be safe. And then, he remembers: Seeder is a mother, she's a wife. There are people that need her. He won't put it past Snow to rig the outcome for Eleven. He'll put Seeder's name in twice and pat himself on the back for seemingly ensuring your freedom. When, in reality, he's only ensured that you'll be in the arena. 

Finnick knows this because he knows you. Better than he knows anyone, better than he knows himself. He knows that you're brave, that you're stubborn enough to put a cabezon to shame, that you're stupidly compassionate. He knows that you'll never be able to live with yourself if you don't volunteer in her place. 

His head falls to the back of the couch. That's one thing he and Snow have in common, the only thing. Their love has damned you. Annie is mumbling to herself, having screamed herself hoarse at this point. But she keeps making jerking movements as if she wants to run. He steals a few breaths, taking a moment to gather himself—his fears, his hopes, his anger—he gathers it all and stores it away. "C'mon, Annie. Let's go outside for a walk." A stroll along the shoreline usually calms her down and he gets the allure. At least with the cooling breeze and the ocean mist from crashing waves, Finnick can close his eyes and pretend to be someone else. Someone unburdened with the fact that Snow was right, they are more similar than he'd like to admit. Because Seeder may have a family that relies on her, but Finnick can't find it in himself to care. He'd put her in the arena himself if it meant your safety. He stands, stepping around shards of glass and pools of cooling tea, pulling Annie up with him. He doesn't get far before Mags grabs his hand. She's worried, he can see it in her frown. She has every right to be. “I'm,” not fine, far from it, “right here, Mags. Don't worry about me.” He leaves behind Mags's concern and the sound of Caesar Flickerman's excited voice recounting Snow's speech. He pinches the skin between his thumb and index finger, pressing down until it hurts. Then he presses down until the muscle throbs. The sea breeze hits him in the face when he opens the door and he thinks. The boat is sinking and he can only swim for so long.

-

A/N: Side note, that was "stubborn enough to put a bull to shame" but I figured Finnick wouldn't know enough about bulls to know they're stubborn. So I picked the fish equivalent of a bull.

#the hunger games #hunger games catching fire #hunger games fanfiction #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick x reader #finnick odair #and they'd find us in a week

[shima-draws]

Concept: Vanessa gets assigned to do one of those “research your parent(s) job” kind of projects and instead of doing the logical thing by. You know. Picking her mom. She decides to do her project on her dad instead. Cue Vanessa showing up to class with video footage of her “evil” scientist dad showing off one of his cool inventions only to get his ass handed to him two minutes later by a VERY good looking teal-haired man in a crisp vest and tie. And everyone in class is like okay wait hold on forget your dad Vanessa who is THAT 👀 and she panics and says “Oh Perry? Heeee’s. My dad’s boyfriend?” and everyone is like wait WHAT??? So we have half the class questioning why her dad’s boyfriend is beating him up (with love!! With love.) and the other half being like that’s sus actually I’ve met your dad and he’s kinda,, anyway what I’m saying is that I don’t think he could be dating someone that attractive. And obviously that makes Vanessa angry so instead of telling the truth she’s like. No no fr they’re dating they have been for years they’re just like this. Perry cares about my dad a lot (which is not a lie at all actually).

So basically this all snowballs into Vanessa trying to prove that her dad is dating the hot secret agent who is also his nemesis (?) which turns out to be not so difficult at all because Doof and Perry are just. Well you know how they are. You really don’t have to dig deep to find the weird romantic tension between them. Which leads to her classmates being like YEAH VANESSA your dad can get it!! And she’s like um gross but also yes you are correct. He deserves this. And by this I mean Perry

#It’s late and I’m having stupid PnF thoughts. Sorry (not actually) #PnF #Phineas and Ferb #Vanessa Doofenshmirtz #Heinz Doofenshmirtz #Doofenshmirtz #Human Perry #Perry the platypus #Shima speaks #Perryshmirtz #Waughh. WAGHHFHH #I need to go to bed lmao #Anyway they….them…and just. Yeah…

[alexa-fika]

Rise of the Usurper (Doflamingo x gn!pigeon!reader)

A/N This is Doflamingo’s version of the messenger pigeon!reader that I wrote for Crocodile, I think crocodile’s makes me more fuzzy inside,maybe cause Doflamingo has 0 redemption and is a complete utter ass, but idk what do y’all think? We likey? We getting the fuzzy feels?

Dividers by @/saradika

” Fufufu~ Just the person I was waiting for,” Doflamingo cackles in his usual lax pose, leaning back on the throne, legs crossed and head leaning on his hand.

His smile widens as they struggle against his subordinates as he gestures them to leave the Reader and him alone

“What the hell do you want” They growl rubbing their arms as his crew-mates finally release them

“Oh the little birdy has claws~” He tilts his head.

“All I want to know is, Where were you going, fufu? I send you to do some deliveries, and next, I know you’re trying to leave Dressrosa?”

“I don’t work for you; I work for the King of Dressrosa, and that definitely is not you.”

“Oh, is that right? And where is this king now?”

“I don’t know what you did to him, but I know you were behind it; there is no way the king would do those things. He loves this kingdom and its people, and there is no way someone like you would just ‘pass by’ and happen to save the day.”

The smile on Doflamingo’s face starts to turn a little twisted

“So, the pigeon has some brains to back them up. Too bad; you’re in my land now, my territory now. You should watch that little tongue. I won’t have it insulting me like that”.

“I’ll admit you’re an interesting little creature. But you should be careful, little pigeon. What you are saying about me is a real offense. I’ve killed for much less.”

“Like you killed King Riku?”

“Fuffuffuffu”

In the blink of an eye, they are quickly enveloped by Doflamingo’s strings, their struggles against them seemingly futile.

“Fuffuffuffu ~ You’re quite the little pest; I knew I liked you. But What you know could damage the image I’m projecting. Why don’t you be a nice bird and just do as you’re told, deliver what I tell you, and keep your mouth shut?”

“Like hell, I will!”

Doflamingo lets out a dry laugh

“Ah~ You are a feisty little one, aren’t you, Fufufu~”

The strings are slowly tightening up around them. Doflamingo smiles once more.

“If you’re the smart little birdy you’ve been trying to present yourself as you’ll see the merit in my suggestion.”

“I work for the Riku family. Not you.”

“The Riku family is nothing more than dirt on my shoe right now. Their King is dethroned and gone by my hand.”

“So, as I said, you can either keep your mouth shut and deliver what I want you to or…you wouldn’t want to become a flightless bird, would you? Fufufufufu~…” He laughs

Their eyes widen as they feel the unmistakable feeling of something wrapping around the base of their wings, and immediately move to shake it off

“Fufufufu…What do you choose? Keep your mouth shut and continue your service to me, the King, or lose them?“ he says as the strings slowly tighten

“Better decide quick; my strings are more than capable of slicing through those wings of yours.”

“Stop!”

Doflamingo raises a brow as the strings retract.

“Hm? You decided to shut up and listen to your king?”He giggles mockingly

They glare at him

“You are not a kind, much less my king,” they growl

His smirk just grows at the comment as he motions the strings to return and slowly, once more, coil around the base of their wings

“I am a king because I took it by force; I am kind to those who swear their allegiance to me. So, one more time. Will you listen to your king and stop talking back?”

“I’ll continue working as the Royal Mail, but you can go to hell if you think I'll acknowledge you as a king; you are simply a usurper.”

There is a beat of silence before Doflamingo laughs

“Oh, you really are something,” he says.

“You think I care about your little petty words? I rule this country; people here acknowledge me as king, and I am the rightful ruler; you can tell yourself whatever lies you want in your little bird head of yours, but at the end of the day, you’re just going to be a mail pigeon, and I’m the one sitting on the throne. Fufufufu,” he laughs, releasing the strings enveloping all around their body

“Now come here,” he said, calling them closer to the throne

They stand their ground, glaring at the man sitting on the throne

He raises a brow, and his smirk returns.

“You know how this will end; how about you save yourself the trouble and come up

here”

They grit their teeth, knowing that if they continue to stand their ground, he would

Simply puppeteer them towards him, so they decided to at the least make their advance with them controlling their own limbs, climbing up the stairs, and standing in front of him

He smiles.

“Ah~ There you go, fufu. I knew my birdy had some brains. Now kneel down.”

“Like hell, I will.”

“I’ll ask one more time nicely; if you don’t, then I’ll force you.”

“Do it then.”

His smile widens once more as he raises a hand, summoning his strings again. The strings once more wrap around their body.

“Kneel….”

They grunt as the strings pull them down, effectively putting them into a kneeling position in front of the man, a whine escaping them as they feel him clasp something at the base of both wings, furiously beating their wings to try to get rid of the intrusive pain

“ What are you doing?!”

Doflamingo laughs at the pain he is inflicting on Reader as they desperately try to break free

“I’m taking some precautions. You are a key factor for helping me take this country to supremacy, But that doesn’t mean you get to try and run away.”

“What did you do?”

“I put bomb collars at the base of your wings; this way, you’ll stay nice and obedient for me; keep that mouth shut about what you know, or lose the wings you so treasure,” he said, releasing the strings and allowing them to get up

“You miserable piec-

His smirk widens as he places his hand on their mouth

“Hm? Fufu…you’re getting noisy again,” he laughed.

“I hate to say it, but it looks like your life as you knew it is over; now you’ll work for me. For the rest of your time, you are my little delivery bird, both personal and royal.”

“You won’t get away with this.”

Doflamingo laughs

“It looks like I already did. You’re nothing more than a little messenger, a servant for me now.” he laughs

“A servant who knows too much and will keep their mouth. But don’t worry, little bird, your life isn’t over. I still have a lot of use for you. You’re pretty popular with the people, and I have a little plan that will put you in the limelight even more. So let’s see, I have some mail that I want to be delivered; why don’t you do that first, my servant.”

“Yes, they know me, so they will believe me when I tell them what you did,” they say, slapping away his hand.

“You underestimate the hold I have on my subjects; they just saw me save them from a tyrannical and raging king. You’ll be known as a messenger who is loyal to the crown, and in due time, they will love you for just that. Your words are as meaningless as a bird chirp. You’re a smart little birdy, but you forgot one crucial thing: I’m the king, and I run this country. No one will believe you.” He taunts them

“And after they ignore your pleas as you try to tell them what you saw, I'll just drag you back, and I'll blow those little wings off you, and you'll find out how kind I truly am being right now, so be smart and keep your mouth shut.”

They grit their teeth, knowing that as much as they hated him, as big as an usurper as he was, he wasn’t wrong; the citizens all believed him to be a hero, a bystander who had saved them for no reason other than to help the people.

He smiled; the pigeon was finally getting the picture that they had no chance; they were no match for the new king of Dressrosa.

“Good little birdy, now get out my sight; you have some mail to deliver.”

“You will one day regret this; pay for this; I will make sure of it.” They said, spreading their wings and turning around

Doflamingo bursts out laughing.

“I’m sure you will, little birdy, I’m sure you will. But for now, your role is to do what I say and nothing more, and like I said, I have lots of plans for you.”

So? Thoughts? Opinions? How did out resident asshole made you feel? Should I make a part two for this one as well? Should I do this series with someone else too? Im also working or part three for Crocodile’s right now, right after I finish and post a wholesome piece I will get to editing that one 👀, gotta level the feels.

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

#one piece x reader #one piece #one piece imagine #donquixote doflamingo #op doflamingo #doflamingo one piece #doflamingo x reader #doflamingo x you #doflamingo x y/n #one piece doflamingo #one piece donquixote doflamingo

[oomisluvr]

YOURS, MINE, OURS (I COULD DO THIS FOR HOURS)

SYNOPSIS: kiyoomi sucks at housework and you are absolutely no help.

WARNINGS: none! probably some swearing, but that’s all :’) useless!sakusa, never-learned-now-to-hang-a-photo!sakusa, also the beginning of domestic!sakusa, sfw!

“It’s a little crooked. Tilt the left side up a bit–No! My left, not yours.”

“We’re facing the same direction, love. It’s the same left.”

“Don’t sass me.” You suck your teeth, “You’re the one that asked for my help.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kiyoomi dismisses you, arms still outstretched to successfully level the small frame, “Does this look any better?”

It doesn’t. It's actually worse now.

“Looks fantastic.” You quip helpfully.

With a final huff, Kiyoomi steps back to look at his handiwork, hands braced on his hips like a proud father. Silence weighs heavy between you two. He sighs.

“I’m gonna burn down this entire building.”

“It’s not that bad, babe.”

“This looks awful. I mean, did I put this up during an earthquake? What even happened?”

“It’s an easy fix. 30 minutes max.”

“Tiktok made it look so easy.” He groans, heading for the kitchen, “‘Quick-and-easy home project’, my ass. This whole ordeal has been lengthy and difficult.”

“You’re not gonna fix it?” You ask, a bit shocked. Kiyoomi’s never been the type to abandon a project of any kind.

“I know my limits. It’s tomorrow's problem.” He decides, grabbing a bowl from the cabinet and hunting for some cereal. Brown eyes peer into your own, “Do I have you for the weekend or are you going home?”

“I think I’ll stay.“ You hum, watching him pour milk into the small ceramic bowl, “Only if we get breakfast in the morning.”

You’ve been told Kiyoomi’s been less uptight since dating you. More friendly. Open-minded. Willing to try new things. You’ve watched him grow significantly since when you first started seeing him, and you’re secure enough in this relationship to say you’ve loved every version of him. You were friends before you were anything more, and dating him has made your relationship even stronger.

“Done.” He nods, capping the milk, “I’ve been meaning to give you something, by the way.” You watch him rummage through the kitchen drawer, a slight tremor in his movements. Whatever he was searching for lands in your hand with a light toss, the object softly clinking when you catch it. “I want you to have this.”

Unequivocal access to his private space. The key to his house. You blink. 

“A key? You want me to start picking up your mail?”

He rolls his eyes, “What I would like is for you to move in with me, but I figured this is the first step.”

“This is…” You swallow, staring down at the metal as if it were alien, “A very big step.”

“I know. I trust you, though.���

To say you’re shocked in an understatement. Your relationship has been nothing short of amazing, but Kiyoomi’s always valued personal space. You expected this stage to come much further down the road.

“My lease ends in a few months.”

“I know.” You see it now, the nervousness radiating off of him. “Believe it or not, I like having you around.”

Shaking your head, “You’ll get sick of me.”

“Impossible. I adore you.”

“I’m messier than you. I’ll leave my clothes everywhere.”

“Then we’ll just have to do laundry together. You wash and I’ll fold?”

“I can’t cook.”

“Me neither.” He suppresses a grin, “But I trust that we’ll figure it out.”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m not going to win this, am I?”

He shakes his head, black curls bouncing effortlessly with the movement, “Nope.”

Your expression softens, “I’ll drive you crazy.”

He hums, dipping down to press his lips to yours, “You already do.”

Jumpcut to all the pictures falling off the wall and shattering because Kiyoomi has no life skills :D

THANKS FOR READING!!

#domestic sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #kiyoomi sakusa #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!! #haikyu #haikyuu fic #msby sakusa #sakusa #sakusa x reader #kiyoomi #msby

[12boogaloo]

Okay, I cant take it anymore. The brain rot is REAL

Been on a writing hiatus since 2019 or 2020 (I honestly don’t remember so don’t @ me)

And what gets me to finally start writing again?

You guessed it ladies, gents, and serpents!

Fucking TROLLS 3

Let’s get this bread or die trying y’all 😈

~•~

So first things first: I didn’t come up with the AU’s I’m using here! They were created by TheMiraculousMat and Keebsification on here and AO3

The AU’s in question are The Eldest and The Youngest and Out The Train Wreck

I just love it when people see John Dory and think “hmmm yes this grown man can fit so much eldest daughter energy in him” cuz SAME

So I thought: what if I just… put em together? OTT! JD and E&Y! JD have a grip on my soul and I’m filling a formal complaint in the form of fanfiction for not just 1, but 2 other pieces of fanfiction!!! Cuz why not

I’m gonna post the notes I’ve had about this idea for the past 2 week, at least the first part.

Well… it’s half notes, half chapter really…

Maybe. MAYBE. I’ll clean it up and post it on AO3. Maybe… probably lets be real

Anyway. Y’all can call me Boog and this is Project: Hyperfixation Won

Actual story name pending…

~•~

Part 1: Author’s Actual Notes because they are a nerd

Got an idea

Gonna scratch the itch

Half brain rot dump and half story here

Combination of the Eldest and Youngest JD and the Train Wreck JD

I also head canon that trolls have tails and claws and fangs

They’re lil creatures

Basically the same stuff happens in TW with the manager and John being Branch’s father.

Branch grows up knowing JD is his dad while everyone else thinks they’re brothers.

He and Luka are dating. He’s basically Branch’s other dad.

Luka gets taken and John thinks he died. He keeps his glove to remember him.

The fight still happens. John still leaves but promises Branch that he’ll come back.

He goes to the Neverglades for the next four years.

When he gets a letter about Rosiepuff and Branch he immediately heads back to the tree to take care of him.

Pretty much all of E&Y happens but with the change of Branch knowing JD is his dad.

Makes the trauma of him leaving worse in a way which adds to the angst of the first parts delicious, but it also makes their bond really solid later on.

John forgot that everyone in the village knew them as brothers until Poppy asks him if John is Branch’s daddy out of the blue. He panics and says “no” on instinct and they both decide to just go with it. Easier than explaining it to everyone.

She still doesn’t know. Nobody does.

John still loses his arm trying to save Creek(nasty ass).

One morbid silver lining John felt was that at least it wasn’t the hand he wore Luka’s glove on. Small miracles. Lol I’m sorry

Branch doesn’t remember Luka anymore, at least not really. He sorta remembers a burgundy haired troll that he thought was important but couldn’t remember anything else about them so he didn’t think too much about it.

John doesn’t really like talking about him and Branch hasn’t ever asked so he doesn’t bring it up.

He starts dating Hickory and he does tell him about Luka. He admits that while he definitely is falling for Hickory, a part of him will always belong to Luka and their relationship will always be really important to him.

Hickory is more than okay with that and even tells him that he would’ve loved to have met the man that made his sweetheart so happy and kept him safe before it was his turn. (John just about cried when he said that same buddy and agreed that they’d probably get along pretty well.)(He shows Hickory pictures of him and Luka one day and they laugh over the fact that John clearly has a type.)(And, based on Hickory’s own light blush, same.)(He immediately said Luka was ‘real cute’ and John still laughs at him for it.)

He also tells him about Bold and how Branch came to be. (Hickory spent solid hours comforting him afterwards and spent an equal amount of time thinking of ways he could get Dickory to help him torture the bastard if he ever saw him.)(He decides in that moment that he’d do anything to protect his boyfriend and his son. Anything.) (He’s also even more grateful to Luka when he hears about how he protected his love the day they met. He really wishes he could thank him…)

Branch makes jokes about not calling Hickory his stepdad till they get married, which makes John flush bright blue. (Hickory just laughs and winks, the traitor.)(Hickory secretly really wants Branch to call him ‘Pops’ and he’s so obvious about it.)(Branch finds it hilarious and doesn’t on purpose. He’d actually love to call him that, he’s just being an ass.)(You’d think he wouldn’t ever want to but no. For some reason, it’s only thinking of Hickory as ‘Papa’ specifically that makes him feel wrong. Like that’s not available to him. I wonder why.)

After saving Floyd, the boys all start spending more time together as a family. Floyd and Clay move into the bunker with John and Branch. Bruce still lives on Vacay Island but he tries to visit at least once a week, even bringing his wife and kids with him if he can.

They still love doing shows together and will do a big one every two weeks at least.

A few months later, they’re getting ready to hangout together after a performance in PopVillage. Hickory isn’t with them, he was actually watching with Tiny in the crowd, so he can’t see them.(Lil dude is really attached to his “Uncle Cowboy” and “Uncle Johnny” it’s adorable.)(And yes Guy is close by, Tiny is still very very grounded.)

Poppy wants to introduce them to a former stage manager that she’s worked with before that had come to see the show from TrollCity. Branch has met him once before and thought the guy was weird and a little creepy but nothing else made him feel suspicious so he kinda just ignored it. He figured if Poppy trusted him, it was fine. (Obviously he still kept an eye on the old bastard, cause your boy isn’t paranoid for nothing. And you never know.)

They all agree to meet and when they get backstage… it’s him.

Bold.

The bros old manager. The man who hurt their eldest unimaginably.

JD basically shuts down as his younger brothers immediately shield him from view.

They need to get out of here without causing a scene. Fast.

“Poppy, I think we need to go…” Floyd mumbles, his usually soft features twisting in both anger and slight fear as he stared the old troll down.

Poppy looks at them in confusion, “Wha- but you guys said you wanted to see everything we set up!!” She looks between the brothers and the older manager, Branch joining her as his eyebrows furrowed.

“Sorry, kids, I don’t think we can do that…” Bruce doesn’t take his eyes off of the old man as he steps back, closer to Clay and Floyd who were holding John Dory’s arms and hands to keep him steady in their safety bubble, their tails wrapped around his waist. “Not when he’s here.”

Poppy blinks in confusion. “What do you mean? Have you met Mr. Bold before?” She asks.

The old bastard chuckles. “Don’t worry, Miss Poppy.” Poppy huffs a bit at being called ‘miss’. (She’s Queen, dammit. Only Hickory calls her ‘miss’ and it’s always as a joke.) “I was the boys’ manager back in the day! It’s just been a while since we’ve seen each other.” He looks over each brother, clearly trying to get a look at John Dory and noticeably souring when he’s blocked. Then he smirks, taking a few steps closer, his wooden cane thunking against the floor. John flinches with each tap, tap, tap. “You’ve all grown up so much.”

Bruce holds his ground, crossing his arms and rolling his shoulders, his bigger body blocking most of JD from view. Clay was growling behind him, both him and Floyd curling closer to John and their ears pressed back in irritation. Bruce gives a humorless chuckle. “Heh. Yeah, we’ve grown up, Bold. We grew up and you’re fucking old now.”

Poppy gasps. “B-Bruce, that’s not nice!” She turns to Bold and smiles nervously. “I’m so sorry-“

The man waves her off. “Don’t fret. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it. He’s right after all.” He looks at them again all smugly, leaning on his cane. “Like I said, it’s been a long time.”

Floyd scoffs. “Not long enough.” He growls, baring his teeth. His claws start coming out and he’s thankful he’s holding John’s prosthetic arm as he feels them scratch the metal.

“Woah, okay, what the hell is up with you guys?” Branch finally steps in. That was so unlike Floyd to say something like that. He’s never seen the older troll that angry before, he’s never seen any of his uncles that angry before.

Bruce huffs. “What’s up is that we’re leaving. Now.” He goes to turn around to start steering his brothers out of the room when he hears Bold chuckle, making them all freeze.

“You all really have changed so much,” He says, his tail swaying side-to-side behind him. John looks up and they manage to lock eyes, Bold smiling sickly as John stares in horror. “Especially you, Johnny Baby.”

John feels sick. He feels like he’s gonna pass out. He feels his legs start giving out as Clay and Floyd rush to hold him up. He feels his body going completely limp and his vision blurs and his chest hurts and he can’t breATHE-

Bruce tackles the old troll, immediately landing brutal hits to the bastards face. He screams between punches, “DON’T TALK TO MY BROTHER!” Bold tries to hit him back, only managing to smack Bruce in the side once with his cane before continuing to get pummeled.

Branch and Poppy jump in frantically to pull him off of the man and the three of them stumble back. Bruce shoves them off and glares at Bold again. He was lying on the ground, groaning and clutching his nose, there were scratches and bruises on his face and he was covered in his own glittery copper blood. “Stay. The FUCK. Away. From John.” Bruce pants and shakes out his hands, flexing his exposed claws. He spits on the ground. “Bastard.” He turns back to his brothers. “Cmon, let’s get out of here.” He lifts JD up bridal style and Clay and Floyd follow him as he starts rushing to the door.

“Wait, hold on!” Branch runs after them, leaving Poppy standing in confused horror at what just happened.

~•~

That’s what I’ll give for now lol

I have like wayyy more written out but I’m mean so 😈

Anyway

Thank you for coming to my ted talk

Lmk what y’all think ig

Check out the folks that created these AU’s plz @matmiraculous and Keebsification (idk their tumblr so plz don’t yell at me) both on AO3 where I found them

Later yall

#trolls band together #hickdory #eldest and youngest au #out the train wreck #trolls john dory #holy shit what has happened to me #hyperfixation ftw #trolls clay #trolls floyd #trolls branch #trolls bruce #my fav besides John Dory

[wrenreid]

Off Limits

Part Twenty-Seven

My freshman year of high school, I was put into a junior level government class. I was only in there because it was the only class that fit into my schedule other than ag classes I couldn’t have been less interested in. I didn’t talk much in the class because everyone was older than me, and they thought I was a kiss up because i always made good grades. I didn’t particularly love the class, but of course, I still did my work and did it well.

Toward the end of the year, we did a mock trial. We drew for positions within the trial, mr flynn the judge. I drew attorney.

The case was a business lawsuit, I was the lawyer who was going against the business for their supposed cruel acts.

Mr. Flynn told us that we would receive extra credit if we dressed up, so me, a fourteen year old with a desperate need for academic validation, borrowed one of my mother’s pencil skirts and a suit jacket from my dad. I looked like a mini Aaron Hotchner, even my mom said so.

I remember preparing for the trial for at least a week, being a little excited about the project. I wanted to win the case, especially since I was, as I believed, on the right side of the law.

My opposing attorney was Noah Kincaid. He was a smart but cocky kid who also cared about winning the trial.

I remember standing up from my desk when is was my turn to ask questions to the kid under oath. I felt as though I had stepped into myself for the first time. It was just a mock trial that lasted half an hour, but I felt proud and confident. I was good at it.

Mr. Flynn pulled me aside after class and told me I should consider law school in the future. He said, and I quote, “The way you handled yourself was the most confident and concise I’ve ever seen in a student. You surprised me, Hotchner.”

I didn’t take it to offense that he said my skills surprised him. In his defense, he’d only heard me talk when I turned in a paper or answered a question, which the latter was usually rare since I didn’t particularly like to “show off” in front of juniors who already thought I was a kiss ass.

I did, however, take his first sentence as a compliment. I was confident and my statements and questions were concise.

I smiled, nodded, thanked him, then left. A lawyer was not on my top five career choices at the time. I didn’t want people to think I was doing it because of my father. I was definitely not. But after some research and a few binge watches of crime shows, I knew I actually did want to be an attorney. Not because of my father but almost in spite of him.

My dad quit his job as a lawyer and took the job Agent Gideon offered him at the BAU. I resented him for it, still do, but that’s besides the point. He wasn’t around much in my most influential years, and at fourteen, I decided I would be a lawyer, and if I happened to have a family, I wouldn’t take a new job that prevented me from being there for them.

So now, I’m currently four weeks away from grad school and three years away from the BAR. And I’m going to rock the shit out of them both. Because I can and because I’m determined. It’s also way less about my unresolved daddy issues now than it was in high school and even some of college, it’s a dream of mine.

Spencer has made it his mission to make sure I enjoy the last month of summer as much as I can. He’s taken me out on a million dates like picnics, movies, late night drives around the city and out into the country, and more every chance he gets between cases.

At least now we don’t have to sneak around and lie about our relationship. Though I was prepared to keep this from my dad for however long necessary, I’m pretty glad we accidentally outed ourselves at my graduation dinner.

My dad cooked a big meal for me, some family, friends, and we invited the team too. Spencer and I didn’t even sit near each other. We barely talked the whole dinner just to be safe.

But as love-sick, horny couples do, when we saw an opportunity to take a minute alone, we did just that.

Having your father catch you making out with a guy will never not be awkward, but when the guy happens to be his employee, it’s fucking weird.

Though, I will say, the look on his face was priceless. I’ve hardly seen him have that much emotion on his face.

After a very awkward, flushed-face, and stuttered explanation from Spencer and me, we were able to calm my father down. He was a lot more excepting than I expected; I think he finally realized he can’t dictate my life, and he saw how happy we are together.

The rest of that dinner consisted of a lot of teasing from Derek Morgan, my brother being grossed out by me having a boyfriend, and everyone asking about law school.

I’m excited and anxious to start the rest of my life as a law student. I’ve prepared for this for nearly 8 years now, and I’m getting closer and closer to my dream career. It’s terrifyingly exciting. I’m grateful to have my family and Spencer by my side through all of this.

hey, so this is it for this story! this is also most likely it for my fanfiction in general.

and for a little life update: i started college a month ago, and i’m adjusting to my new life which has been interesting and scary and fun. im also in a healthy relationship and have been for a while which has been pretty amazing. i hope all my mutuals/ readers are doing well. thank you guys for sticking around :)

tags: @pauline5525mgg @theintimatewriter @lilibet261 @greysviolets @jazzymariexoxoc @one-sweet-gubler @thatsonezesty13 @necromaniackat @awhoreforspencerreid @sebs-oxygen @scarredelirium @bts-sugaplum @awesomeness1679 @preciousbabypeter @yazzyu @cynbx @r3idsp3ncer @1010lizz @tiredbut-here @skulzombiw @lena-1895 @eevee0722 @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @daydreamingqueen1 @regulus-black-223048 @virginmusicloverr36 @jazzerbelle14 @kylakins88 @f-me-reid @lovejules888 @marimorena06 @daph-421 @idkusername8787

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid #mgg x you #spencer reid smut #mgg angst #mgg fic #spencer reid and reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid series #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #mgg #dilf spencerreid #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid x original female character #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid hair #dr spencer reid

[nothingunrealistic]

1, kleinsen

1. “I love you, please don’t go.”

“And as soon as the new car gets delivered, the minivan is mine for good.” Jared flops onto his back so that he’s lying across the entire foot of Evan’s bed, legs dangling over the side. “The Jaredmobile is gonna hit these streets harder than —”

“Are you really calling it that?” Evan has ridden in Jared’s mom’s minivan, soon to be Jared’s minivan, and it is mobile, but that’s kind of a low bar. It probably shouldn’t be hitting anything hard.

“Haven’t decided. But I know what bumper sticker is going on there first.” Jared sticks his phone in Evan’s face. “Check it.”

“‘Caution: This vehicle makes frequent stops at your mom’s house.’”

“It’s gonna be true. Especially at your mom’s house.”

“You mean my house?”

“Is your name on the property deed? I don’t think so.” Jared grimaces, wriggles around, and nearly whacks Evan in the face with his phone as he pulls out a mechanical pencil he was lying on. “And when, after I’ve spent another week chauffeuring your sorry ass around, she invites me to stay the night —”

“Mom works nights.”

“— is it gonna be you saying ‘please, I love you, please don’t go’ in the morning?” He rhythmically raps Evan’s knee with the pencil. “I. Don’t. Think. So.”

“You’re gross. And that’s my pencil.”

“Finders keepers, bro.”

“Boys?” Mom knocks on the door and opens it half a second later; in that half second, Jared shoves himself upright and slaps the pencil into Evan’s hand, and something that sounds a lot like Jared’s phone hits the floor. “Everything okay? Is that project coming along?”

“Going great, Mrs. H.,” Jared says, over top of Evan’s “Fine, Mom.”

“Good. That’s good. Well, I’m heading out to work.” She already looks as frazzled as if she just came back from a shift. “There’s money on the table so you two can order dinner. I think Domino’s is doing their half off deal again, but make sure you check. Jared, will your mom be able to pick you up? I’ll be back too late to give you a ride home.” And suddenly Evan is terrified that Jared will say some stupid thing about Mom giving him a ride, and she’ll get mad and tell him to go home now, and Evan will have to finish this English project on his own, and he’ll probably get a terrible grade, and Jared will be mad at him even though it’ll be Jared’s fault in the first place, and —

“Won’t be a problem,” Jared says, perfectly polite.

“Great. Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, Evan, I love you.”

Mom walks back out, but she doesn’t shut the door, so Evan counts to five before he says, “Thank you for not saying anything weird.”

“To your mom? What, do you think I’m some kind of male chauvinist pig? Thanks for nothing, Billie Jean.”

“Is that what that song’s about?”

“What — no. Never mind.” Jared bends over and retrieves his phone from the floor. “I’m hungry. Let’s get some shitty half-price pizza. Which is a ridiculous deal, by the way.”

“I think it’s a March Madness thing.”

“In April?”

“Maybe it’s an extra-long deal.”

“Madness is right. How much money are we working with here?”

“Probably twenty dollars.” An engine starts outside; Evan shifts over on the bed to look out the window, watching to confirm that it’s Mom’s car, until it turns left and vanishes from sight. “But, uh, when the pizza gets here —”

“Yes, I’ll get the door so you don’t have to have a breakdown about it. Never fear.”

(angst/fluff prompt list)

#inbox #cockbiteproductions #dear evan hansen #jared kleinman #evan hansen #heidi hansen #kleinsen #sometimes i write #first time posting any new writing since august! what the last season of billions (and 7x03 in particular) does to a mf #also this ask is coming up on four years old lmao. i do not work quickly #brought to you by seeing a windshield sticker with that same text on my walk home from work one day