#Resume Analyzer

[resume-analyzer]

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[lialox]

Just finished a really exhausting read on "what if the US declared war on Canada"

[sega-saturn-arcade]

also istg i do not just complain on this account idek why it's been so negative. i must post something positive soon but all that's on my mind is Poob Street Survival arc that i'm in the process of remembering LAWLZIES

[theneighborhoodwatch]

Something interesting is that another pic from Clown's site that is canon now is the one with Wally on the tall chair with the moon behind him, also at the staff-only exhibition. That one has Wally with the crosses on his lapels, along with the pic on the website proper of Wally painting Barnaby's paw. Clown had already said that the crosses were no longer canon, so why are they showing up now?

To Be Fair, that sketch of wally painting barnaby's paws was there from the very first iteration of the website (feb 14th 2022) and there's a bunch of concept art on the website of other characters from before their designs were finalized that doesn't really seem to indicate anything except "this is what we have on hand, so this is what we're going to use." although if they reuse old assets this often, i do have to wonder if they're ever going to get around to editing the rest of them at some point for consistency's sake, since that's what they did for the first batch of valentine's day art.

[wickedhawtwexler]

one day. the excessive amount of music-related data analysis projects in my portfolio will get spotify's attention. and they will call me up like "hey ms. wickedhawtwexler, you're a genius data scientist, we'd love to hire you and pay you $200k a year to science our music data full time". manifesting

[novelistwriter]

The Phantom and his Bird

DP x DC Prompt for Pride Month

Danny's first encounter with Robin was when he was leading the Titans on a mission that led them to Wisconsin. They were tasked with investigating Vlad, as Batman was suspicious of why the man became so rich so quickly.

Ever eager to help, Danny, as Phantom, had told them why Vlad got his riches so quickly (This takes place before Danny and Vlad made the deal to keep each other's identities a secret). He even gave Robin a Specter Deflector for Batman to use and possibly replicate. He even told them to steer clear of the GIW and to not believe anything they say about Ghosts.

He refused to join the Titans because the GIW still having established the Anti Ecto Acts and didn't want to put a bigger strain on the hold they have over Amity, though he has agreed that he can discreetly help the Justice League with Ghost related problems as Danny.

It's not an easy process getting the Anti Ecto Acts removed. The Justice League needs to get the masses on their side to get the Anti Ecto Acts removed, and the GIW will do anything to keep the Anti Ecto Acts in power for them to do whatever they want with Ghosts.

Slowly, Danny and Dick, as their other personas, grow together and make a pretty good duo. Danny is there when Robin becomes Nightwing. He's there to comfort Nightwing when his brother is killed by the Joker. Danny is also there to lend an ear to Nightwing after the incidents of a new Robin, his younger brother coming back to life and is a crime lord, getting another younger brother, his father figure being dead.

What happens instead of the Canon of Red Robin not being believed of Batman being in the timestream, Danny had asked his mentor, Clockwork, about the whereabouts of Batman. And as a gift to his bird, he got Batman out of the timestream.

Danny knows about Nightwing being Dick Grayson, turns out Jazz and Wes have rubbed off on him of both analyzing people and being more obervant on the lives of others, so that led him to the conclusion that the Wayne's are the Vigilantes of Gotham, and he thinks that they know who he is as well. Danny has even slowly developed a crush on Dick but hasn't told the man about his feelings.

And now Danny is on his way to Gotham, a baby Dani in his arms, leaving in the middle of peace talks between him, the Ghost King, and the world leaders, because his parents and the GIW had harmed his princess severely, he had told the world leaders that his daughter was in danger and he had to save her. He just hopes that Dick can look after Dani for a bit so he can resume the peace talks.

[goorgeousz]

luther | aaron hotchner

after hours au

luther | aaron hotchner 

after hous au

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!female!reader

summary: during a case you realize hotch knows you more than you imagined.

content/tw: sexism (from a captain), mentions of killing and torture, reader not liking to be vulnerable,  reader flirting with hotch, hotch being protective (<3), deep subjects, fluff!!

word count: 2.8k

a/n: my requests are open! Not only for this au, and not only for hotch! i really liked how this one turned out, hope you enjoy it too <3

this is a part of a little series! you can read it as standalones but if you want some background, this is part 1 and part 2.

after hours masterlist

main masterlist

“JJ and Morgan, go to Ashley’s parent’s house. Reid and Rossi, check with the coroner. The rest come with me to the PD” Hotch announced, still on the plane after debriefing the case. The team agreed and went back to individually analyzing the case files.

A few months passed since you joined the BAU, and you already felt like you had always been there. The team was great and you bonded almost immediately.

At first, Hotch didn’t trust you fully. Not that he thought you were unqualified — he would never accept anyone but the best on his team —, but after what happened between you, he felt like he had to be even more careful. Not just because of you, but because of him too. All of his decisions — always made after a lot of pondering — had to be rethought at least twice. He feared somehow mistreating you, or even the opposite. He was scared of letting himself treat you differently because of what happened. To end up ruining your career, and obviously his too.

It only took him one case. Less than that, actually. At the very first time you worked together, on a kidnapping case in a small town in Nevada, he realized just how professional you truly were. He obviously read your resume — very obsessively so — but seeing you in action in person was a whole other story. Despite your playful and flirtatious demeanor, you didn’t let your emotions and personal beliefs influence your job — at least for the most part. On the contrary, you used them as a mechanism to improve yourself and your skills

You were tougher than you appeared to be — never being underdressed, always with at least one red item on display. You fought tooth and nail for the team, believing truly that everything worked out in the end. You were kind, respectful, thoughtful and appreciative with everyone who crossed paths with you, what made you the perfect partner to help him deal with the public.

“Agent Hotchner?” one of the officers approached him as soon as the team arrived at the station.

“Exactly.” he shook the man’s hand, introducing you and Emily right after.

“Let me take you to the conference room, your team can stay there” he said kindly, guiding you through the bullpen.

…

Later that morning, while Emily was discussing strategies with the rest of the team, you and Hotch went to the captain’s office, who had just returned from a press conference with the public to discuss the case.

“Sir” Hotch said as soon as he stepped into the office, introducing himself and you shortly after. The captain glanced at you up and down, and winked knowingly at Hotch.

“Atta boy.” he smiled, nodding approvingly and smiling like they knew something you didn’t.

Aaron's reaction to this was the same reaction he had for everything: stoically ignoring the teasing.

“She’s extremely qualified, indeed.” he said, trying to end the subject. But before he could managed to explain his thoughts on the case, the captain interrupted him.

“And quite a view, if you know what I mean.” he winked. You were about to snap at him, but Hotch was faster.

“Graduated in forensic psychology, major in communication and experienced in sex crimes. Given the case we’re currently working on, I really don’t see anyone more qualified.” he took the lead, slightly puffing his chest and holding his chin high, proudly standing up for his team members — especially for you.

The captain just laughed, raising both hands in mock surrender “You guys can’t take a little compliment. I wonder why most agents in the sex crimes division are women.” at that you finally break.

“Take a wild guess, smarty as—” you snapped, not even bothering to mask the poison in your voice.

“Agent.” Hotch interrupted. If you didn’t know him, you would’ve missed the way the corner of his lips twitching just slightly. “Anyways, the case.” He said, finally beginning the explanation about what the team had figured out until then, questioning him about the conduct of the investigation of previous murders.

…

Moments later, the meeting with the captain going smoothly from that — without any other uncomfortable situations, for the most part —, you stopped by at the break room to grab a coffee before meeting the rest of the team. 

“What a gentleman” you murmured, ironically.

“I’m sorry about him” Hotch stated, his voice gentle and apologetic, staring deeply at your eyes, so intensely it made your legs wobbly.

“Don’t be” you waved him off “But if you really want me to feel better, you should get on your knees and beg nicely. I like my man a little submissive.” You teased, winking.

He sighed, his posture not even flinching besides the very tip of his ears, that blushed adorably.

“You can’t flirt with me every time I say something that makes you uncomfortable just to make me drop it” he said, giving you a pointed look.

“I’m looking forward to see how you plan on stopping me, sir” you blinked innocently, walking past him to the conference room to gather with the rest of the team.

…

The entire team sits at the conference room, scattered across the table are notepads, case files, pictures of the victims and delivery. Hotch, JJ and Rossi were discussing suspects and family interviews. Emily and Morgan are trying to replay the unsub’s steps. You and Spencer are silently sitting across each other, rereading some files between bites.

The profile you gave to the officers repeater inside your head: ‘our unsub is a male in his middle to late twenties. He’s acting guided by his hatred towards women. He chooses his victims based on their similarities to the person object of his hate. Which means they are all a representation of who this person is to him. He’s escalating and getting more confident, which probably means it’s a matter of time until he decides to go for the main victim, the one he truly hates…’

But something didn’t sit right with you.

“There’s something wrong.” you stated, deep in thought, interrupting the team’s conversation.

“Yeah, definitely” Spencer agreed with you, raising his eyes off of the file and looking at you quizzically.

“What do you have in mind?” Emily asked, her elbows resting on the table to pay full attention to the two of you.

“Alright, look.” you started, finishing the last bite of your sandwich and throwing out the empty wrapping. Hotch silently offered you some napkins, which you accepted and used without even acknowledging it, way too focused on your train of thought “The bodies were disposed without much of a thought, not one signature or M.O, which could mean the killing wasn’t part of the plan. The bruises in their bodies show overkill, which indicates that he knew the victims and had a personal problem with them. But we haven’t found any connection between the victims.”

“The only thing in common between the four women was their personality.” Spencer continued “All of them, Ashley, Laura, Riley, and Kendall were considered angelic. Their friends and families, to describe them, used terms amongst “saint-like” “too good to be true” “kind soul”. They all engaged in charity events, were outstanding academically and considered role models inside to family and neighborhood settings.

“But just under the curtain they weren’t so perfect. Ashley was into shoplifting for fun, Laura was on drugs, Riley cheated on her boyfriend and Kendall paid other students to do her school projects. That’s probably how he chose his victims.” Morgan realized.

“Exactly. We profiled the unsub acted guided for his hatred towards women in general. But what if we got it wrong?” you suggested.

“So you don’t think they hated the victims?” Hotch asked, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “Yes and no.” you started “I don’t think that he hated them at first. The opposite actually, I think he loved them. He saw them not as the personification of his hatred, but as his loved one. He saw them and thought they were perfect, kind, educated, reserved, probably the same way he felt towards someone in particular, the true object of his fantasies. He thought he found substitutes on the victims, but it turned out they weren’t as perfect as he thought. That’s when it turned to hate.” you explained.

“Wait a second.” Spencer dialed a number on his phone, turning the call on speaker and placing it on the center of the desk.

“Yes, my beautiful genius and friend, how can I help you?”

“Garcia, I need you to find men in their mid twenties that live somewhere in the comfort zone I sent you earlier.” he asked.

“I need more than that, handsome. I got 107.” 

“Eliminate the ones who work full time jobs.” Rossi suggested.

“Now we’re getting somewhere. But still, 80.”

“Eliminate the ones in relationships, or that have been in relationships in the last two years.” Hotch said, leaning closer to the phone.

“Yes, sir! Down to 43.”

“Garcia, how many of them lost a female figure in the last 3 years? Maybe a mother, a grandmother, a sister…” JJ asked.

“Only 6!”

“Send their information, please.”

“Coming, give me a moment.” she said, turning off the call without waiting for an answer.

…

“Ok, we can rule out the first one. He lost his grandmother last year, but lost contact with her 10 years ago” Rossi commented, analysing the files Garcia sent you.

“And the second one too. He lost his mother but she had drinking problems, so it doesn’t fit our profile.” Hotch said, his eyes entirely focused on the papers before him.

“Hey, guys” Emily started “Look at this one. Daniel Scott, 26, had a twin sister, Linda Scott. At school she was the prom queen, graduated with honor in Havard, straight A’s student, was very active member of the city church and engaged frequently on charity events. Died in a car crash in november, 2 years ago.

“Right when the killing started” Spencer agreed, his eyes wide open.

“We got him.” you said, the whole team standing up and getting ready to follow the address Garcia sent to your phones.

…

Hours had passed since the arrest. With the case wrapped up, the night grew late and the team gathered in silence in the jet on their way home, all of them deep in sleep.

All of them, except for you and Hotch.

You wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. After cases like that, you hardly could, with the adrenaline still high on your blood from the pressure you were under just a few hours ago. The quiet humming of the jet blended with Rossi’s snores and the music coming from Derek’s headphones – you swear to god that man’s going to end up deaf –, you stood up from your seat in front of Spencer, who laid splayed out on the empty seats, and went to the little kitchenette at the very front of the jet.

Trying to make as little noise as possible, you made some brewed coffee, the strong scent and the heat warming up your hands immediately. You insisted that the coffee you stored – at the jet, at least – was a little bit better than the one you kept at the bureau – which was straight garbage, in your opinion – and you and Rossi compromised to always keep the cabinets filled with good branded coffee. And a few candy bars and crackers. The good one, obviously.

Hotch thought it was unnecessary, but you changed his mind – by that you mean ‘made him lose his patience and give up fighting, letting you do whatever you wanted as long as he didn’t get bothered by it’ – explaining how changing to a better coffee, something you consumed multiple times a day, would improve your health and performance on the field. Also how having candy bars and good chocolate stored on the jet would help your bodies relax to not associating the jet rides only with the disturbing cases you worked on, but also with good and delicious snacks to warm your heart and soul – with those exact words. Spencer even hopped in, adding some scientific facts and research about how to improve work morale and how improving productivity was directly connected with the quality of the work environment, which honestly sealed the deal for you. 

You got two cups filled to the brim with freshly brewed coffee and a few mini chocolate bars and walked quietly between your teammates, settling on the seat across from Hotch, who stared daggers to the paperwork in front of him.

“What did the poor paper do to you? Glaring at it like it’s our unsub.” you teased, placing one of the cups and three flavoured chocolates in front of him. Just then he raised his head up at you, blinking his eyes as if to adjust his eyes, which were already hurting because of the tiny little letters he head to read and reread.

“Thank you” he said, quietly. He leaned back on the seat, watching fondly you sitting in front of him, curling up against the window and covering yourself with a cheetah printed furry blanket, that you also insisted on leaving on the jet to make the place more comfortable and cozy. “This coffee is actually really good.” “You’re welcome” you winked, smirking smugly from above your own cup. He rolled his eyes, his barely-there smile making an appearance.

“Good job today.” he recognized, and before you could make a joke about how much he was praising you in the spare of 2 minutes, he asked “How did you notice?” genuinely interested, like he always did. And it made your heartbeat quicken, every. single. time.

“I can’t explain it. I just felt something was off. It didn’t add up, you know? We didn’t have any connections between the victims, so it could only be him. From that point it wasn’t hard to come to the conclusion about how he really felt. This kind of behaviour is really common in men.” you shrugged and he frowned, silently asking for you to elaborate. So you did. “It’s the same old patriarchy. The woman is raised to be the perfect housewife, her whole life just waiting for her husband to come. If she’s not chast, virgin, submissive, she’s not marriage material. Therefore, useless. And when the woman doesn’t attend to that… requirements, if you will, she turns from the object of his desires to the victim of hatred, disgust. I just applied that thesis to the profile we already had and changed what it didn’t fit. 

“Very impressive.” he praised. “There’s a really good article about that. Spencer and I were discussing it a few weeks ago. If you want to, I can send it to you.” you offered, starting to actually feel shy under his attentive gaze and admiration. And to the annoyingly but persistent desire you felt under your skin every time you had any deeper interaction with him, like a little personal reminder about what you couldn’t have.

“I would love to.” “Sure.” you agreed, giving him a small smile. You sip on your coffee, grabbing the mug tightly with both hands to keep them warm.

For a few minutes you stayed like this, in a comfortable silence. You gazed at the stars shining on the dark night and him writing on the reports, stopping just to sip at his own coffee and eat the chocolates.

You felt his gaze shifter to you again, almost like your body had a motion sensor that alarmed you every time he looked at you. You stared at each other, and before you could blush or make a little joke to ease up the tension, he started to speak.

“I’m sorry for that capitan.” you grimaced with the topic. It happened three days ago, you were over it. Just as you were going to flirt with him – by saying something incredibly unhinged and inappropriate until he got so uncomfortable he had to change subject, exactly like he accused you of doing – he raised a hand, stopping you. “You don’t have to say anything. Just… I’m sorry.”

You relaxed back on your seat, shifting slightly and turning your gaze back to the widow. Hotch knew you too well. Well enough to understand that situations like this made you feel uncomfortable. You were one of the most emotionally intelligent people he’d ever met. You were strong, kind, giving, and never afraid to show your true emotions. You just didn’t like to feel weak. You dealt with victims every day, all different kinds. And although you know deep in your heart that there was nothing wrong with it, you hated feeling like one.

But as much as Hotch knew you, you knew him too. Well enough to know that he didn’t feel like that was a weakness whatsoever. He felt sorry for you, yes, but he didn’t pity you. He knows you. He sees you. And you were so beyond grateful for it.

“Yeah. Me too.”

[ai-resume-builder]

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[resume-analyzer]

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[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

Sugar, Baby

Chapter One- Shaken, Not Stirred.

| Part 2 |

Bruce Wayne x Sugar Baby! Reader

Not really sure if I'll make another part to this or not, buttt...

WC: 1000~

Summary: Paying for College in a city like Gotham is difficult, to say the least. Between classes and extracurriculars, you found the time to work partime as a bartender at none other than a Wayne Gala.

You never thought you’d find yourself behind the bar at Wayne Manor, pouring overpriced cocktails for Gotham’s elite. But college tuition didn’t pay itself, and neither did the rent on your tiny apartment in the Narrows. So, here you were, dressed in a sleek black vest and white button-up, trying to look composed while serving billionaires and socialites who probably spent more on their outfits than you made in a year.

Your hands shook slightly as you polished a glass, not because you were nervous—okay, maybe a little—but because of the sheer gravity of your surroundings. The Wayne Gala was Gotham’s biggest event of the season, a dazzling display of wealth and power. The chandelier overhead sparkled like a sky full of diamonds, the live orchestra played something elegant and expensive-sounding, and everywhere you looked, people in designer gowns and tailored suits laughed over champagne flutes.

You had worked fancy events before, but this? This was another level.

And then, as if your night couldn’t get any more surreal, he walked up to the bar.

Bruce Wayne.

You knew it was him before you even fully looked up. The room seemed to shift in response to his presence, like the very air recognized his importance. The low hum of conversation faltered just slightly before resuming, as if everyone had taken a collective breath.

You swallowed hard, straightening your posture as you reached for a cocktail shaker. Play it cool.

“What can I get you, Mr. Wayne?” Your voice was steady, professional. Good.

Bruce Wayne leaned against the bar, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. Up close, he was even more devastatingly handsome than the tabloids suggested—tall, broad-shouldered, effortlessly charismatic. His tailored black suit fit him too well, like it was made just for him. It probably was.

“Just Bruce,” he corrected smoothly, a hint of amusement in his voice. “And what do you recommend?”

You blinked. The world’s most eligible billionaire was asking you for a drink recommendation?

“That depends,” you said, reaching for a bottle of bourbon. “Do you like it strong, or do you want something that’ll sneak up on you?”

His lips quirked into a smirk. “I think I’ll trust your judgment.”

You nodded, slipping into the familiar rhythm of bartending as you poured the liquor into the shaker. You added a splash of vermouth, a dash of bitters, then stirred it carefully before straining the amber liquid into a crystal tumbler.

Sliding the drink across the bar, you met his gaze again. “Old Fashioned. Classic, smooth, and strong.”

Bruce lifted the glass, inspecting the drink before taking a slow sip. His expression didn’t change, but you noticed the slight raise of his brow, the subtle nod of approval.

“Impressive,” he murmured.

“Glad you think so,” you said lightly, though your pulse was doing something ridiculous in your throat.

His eyes flickered to your name tag. “You’re not just a bartender, are you, sweetheart?”

Your breath caught. “Excuse me?”

Bruce tilted his head slightly, studying you in that way that made you feel entirely too seen. “You carry yourself differently. More aware. And you keep looking around, analyzing the crowd.”

You hadn’t realized he’d noticed that. You were always watching, always observing—years of growing up in Gotham’s rougher neighborhoods had made sure of that.

“I’m a student,” you admitted, trying not to sound defensive. “This is just to help pay for school.”

He nodded, seemingly pleased with your answer. “What are you studying?”

“Journalism.”

His smirk deepened. “A bartender and an aspiring journalist? You must hear some interesting things.”

You shrugged. “People talk more when they think no one’s listening.”

Bruce chuckled, a deep, warm sound that sent a surprising thrill through you. “I’ll have to be careful, then.”

Before you could respond, a man in a navy suit approached, clearing his throat. “Mr. Wayne, sorry to interrupt, but we need you for a photo with the mayor.”

Bruce sighed, setting his glass down. He glanced at you one last time, something unreadable in his expression. Then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill, sliding it across the bar.

“For the drink,” he said. “And for the conversation.”

You hesitated before picking up the bill, your fingers brushing against his for the briefest second. “That’s a ridiculous tip.”

He smirked. “Then consider it an investment.”

And just like that, he was gone, swept up into the sea of Gotham’s elite, leaving you standing there, heart pounding, wondering what exactly you’d just gotten yourself into.

Masterlist

[dcxdpdabbles]

#Holiday requests If you're not too busy I would love another part to cinnamon rolls son. Love your writing, it really is a great inspiration, you got me out of my own writing slump.

The Justice League was at their wits ends with Dan. Disaster struck no matter what they attempted to ensure he developed some softer traits.

First, Barry had the bright idea to show him the wonders of volunteer work to help the community. If he could value the life of humans, surely he wouldn't destroy it in the far future. As a teenager, Barry had punched hours of volunteering in the local hospital to play and read to the sick children in bed.

He had done it because he enjoyed making children smile and built up his resume for college. Barry was many things, but being wealthy enough to afford college wasn't one of them. He wanted to apply for as many scholarships as possible, so he started his community service campaign from an early age.

On the first day of their community service, Barry had taken him to clean up the local beach. An hour into the work, a shark had been spotted near the swimmers, and Dan had dived in to rescue a little girl from its jaws.

Dan had been hailed a hero until he picked up the girl's father and threw him into the water towards said shark. The father had ignored his seven-year-old daughter for his mistress. Apparently, once Dan overheard the man panicking more about his wife finding out the beach father-daughter beach day was just an excuse to cheat on her than his crying daughter in the ambulance, Dan had figured he needed to be taught a lesson.

Dan stood over him while the man screamed and splashed, pointing and laughing. Were it not for the Flash's sudden appearance, well....Dan may have actually fed that cheating cum bag to the sharks.

Bruce added it to the shared drive, asking Barry to include a complete detailed report, by the hour, of what happened. They figured they could analyze Dan and find what could make him snap.

Next, Clark took Dan to his family farm. He claimed nothing brought up good children like his mother and father's gentle but firm parenting,g plus the wonders of the hard farmer life. Clark was sure Dan would enjoy all the open space, the animals, and working in the fields.

Within the hour of the pair arriving at the farm, Dan happily weeded around the field. Clark was somewhat surprised by how quick he took to the job. He went inside to help Ma ready some pie and Clark's legendary lemonade as a reward.

It only took a few minutes since Ma had already put the pie to cook before they arrived. The two were gone long enough that Clark could make a nice pitcher and take a few seconds to smell the mouthwatering pie.

He went back into the field carrying a tray of a plated two-slice pie and a cold glass cup, only to stop dead in his tracks. Dan was kneeling, laughing manically towards the sky, within the circle of burning weeds.

The flames were a green and black color. Its dark smoke shifted into what appeared to be screaming humans. The worst part, however, was the lines of what appeared to be renamed scarecrows wearing shackles as they harvest Pa's cornfield.

Clark was horrified.

Batman had added to the drive, "Gave life to inanimate things just to enslave them."

Hal was the next one to try, but no one knew what happened on their Become A Better Person trip. Hal refused to place a report, only stating that he could never look at Hawaiian pizza again. He threw up when Barry brought one in for a long meeting.

At least Phantom seemed happy they were still attempting to save his son. His daughter was also more well-behaved, spending most of her days traveling. It was strange to associate her with Phantom because if there was one thing Dani liked to do, it was pick fights.

She had fought through Darkside's defenses to challenge him to a pie-eating contest. She freed half of his planet on her way out, but not before beating them up to get them to listen.

Her father would have spent time trying to do things peacefully. Not Dani. She did stuff through her fists.

Batman had added classifications to the three ghosts in the file. Phantom was Lawfully good, Dani Chaotic good, and Dan was marked as Chaotic neutral. The rest of the league suspects that his children added those, but no one was brave enough to point it out.

[hoshifighting]

seventeen reaction to you calling them unemployed when they ask you to talk dirty to them

WARNINGS: pure crack, i luv this brazilian joke btw

seungcheol: “call me something dirty babe” he growls, “okay, unemployed.” bro stops mid-thrust “what the—i work so hard!” and he’s genuinely sulking about it the rest of the night, muttering, “unemployed? seriously?”

jeonghan: “say something nasty to me,” he purrs, smirking because he thinks he’s got this in the bag. you deadpan: “unemployed.” “unemployed? you did not just go there—i’m on the grind!” and suddenly he’s in a full TED Talk defending his work ethic.

joshua: he blinks, utterly scandalized. “but—i have a job!” he squeaks, sitting up making it all look like a sit com, like he needs to show you his resume or something.

junhui: bursts out laughing so hard he falls off the bed, wiping tears from his eyes, wheezing, “unemployed? oh my god—i wasn’t ready. never had my career insulted before,”

hoshi: “hey! i work very hard, you know!” and spends the next ten minutes rambling about how busy he is, totally breaking the mood.

woozi: he just stares, deadpan, for a solid five seconds. “…did you just call me unemployed?” he’s too stunned to even be offended, wondering if he heard you right. when he realizes you did, he laughs, shaking his head, saying, “you’re lucky i like you enough to let that slide.”

wonwoo: bro gets soft so fast that nothing will make him hard again this night. stares at you, like, excuse me? he was expecting something a little dirtier, not a career counseling session. then he starts laughing, trying to act mad but totally failing.

minghao: he squints, looks at you like he’s analyzing this insult on a philosophical level, then goes, “... hey! did you know that the capitalism—”

mingyu: “what?! i work out every day!” he insists, as if that’s somehow related, suddenly very invested in proving himself to you.

seokmin: his jaw drops, and he looks insulted, like you just ruined his day. “unemployed?! i’m in a band! i sing! i work so hard!” he’s practically listing out his schedule to defend himself as he pouts.

seungkwan: gives you a scandalized look. “UNEMPLOYED?! do you know how much i work, huh? the hours i put in taking care of those idiots??” laughing too hard to keep it up.

vernon: he side eyes you even though you're in front of him. processing it, like—ih his ear blocked or sum?, then just starts laughing, like, “ya! just because i don't know how to use powerpoint?.” shakes his head like he can’t believe you’d pull that on him, but he probably falls in love harder.

chan: bro is so confused you can her his brain frying, looking at you like, “but i work, though? i’m in a group??” ends up cracking as your mouth twitches up.

[divadepreshawn]

Eustace

Harvey Specter × fem!reader

Summary: It's you they ask for help when Harvey gets really grumpy.

You were recently hired, with the high demand for cases involving psychological causes, Jessica saw the need for a legal psychologist on the team.

Jessica only wanted the best at Pearson Specter and that's why she hired you.

You graduated in Psychology from Harvard, maintaining the highest grades until the end of the course, later obtaining a master's degree in cognitive behavioral therapy and deciding to pursue a career in the legal field. You worked for many important judges so you have great recommendations on your resume, in addition to being friends with Donna for many years.

You adapted well, the associates liked you, you connected quickly with Rachel, Louis didn't talk to you much but he didn't bother with your presence - which Donna declared as a historic event - and then there's Harvey.

Who you affectionately nicknamed the Tony Stark of lawyers, he was a good person, you could see through the egocentric facade that he cared more than he let on, but that didn't free him from being an idiot sometimes.

You were in your office finishing analyzing a psychological test when Mike entered your office.

“Y/N, do you have some time?” he asked as he shifted the stack of papers from one arm to the other.

You look up from the papers to look at him “Sure, what do you need?”

“Can you pass the cases next time? I know it’s not your job but… Um, Harvey scared them” He entered your office placing the papers on your desk to sit in front of you.

“Okay I understand why you’re asking this, but isn’t Louis the one who deals with the associates?” you asked slightly confused.

“He does” he nodded, “But in this particular case some associates are working directly on a case with Harvey and he’s not the most… calm”

You let out a small amused snort, “He’s only thirty, how can he be so grumpy? Okay, I'll try to see with Donna why he's so stressed and I'll be at the next meeting.”

He smiles gratefully “Oh, you'll get a lot of coffee for this, thanks.” He takes the papers back and quickly leaves the room.

You sigh, getting up to go to Donna's desk.

“My beautiful ray of sunshine,” you say, smiling as you place your arms on Donna's desk, surreptitiously peeking at Harvey at his desk.

Donna looks away from the computer to look at you with a slight smile.

“Hey, sweetie.”

“What's up with Eustace? Did someone steal his candy or something?”

Donna starts to laugh, turning completely to you now. “Did Mike send you here?”

You nod “I think I have a chamomile face because every time Eustace freaks out someone always appears at my door screaming for help”

“Actually they see what Harvey refuses to-” before Donna can finish what she’s saying Harvey appears at the door

“Wait, Eustace… Are you insinuating that I’m that grumpy old man who has a cowardly dog?” He raised an eyebrow with the sides of his mouth slightly curved upwards.

“Honey, didn’t anyone teach you that it’s rude to listen to other people’s conversations?” you replied ironically.

“No, but they taught me not to give other people nicknames” he retorts with a smile

You open your mouth but quickly close it “Oh, touché”.

Harvey laughs as he leans against the side of Donna’s desk “And you’re going to admit defeat? That's a new one.”

You smile “You know, Christmas is coming… So it's better not to provoke the Grinch.”

Donna tries to hide her laughter by putting her hand over her mouth while Harvey looks at you with false indignation.

“Who validated your diploma knows you do that?” he asks amusedly.

“What is that?” you ask, blinking your eyelashes slowly with false innocence.

He gives a snort mixed with a laugh “You're impossible,” he mutters, returning to his office.

You turn to Donna with a smile “Squidward saying I'm impossible, can you believe it?

Donna leans back in her chair, quickly looking at Harvey's office before looking back at you. She smiles as she shakes her head “And you still don't know why they're going to ask for your help.”

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Sorry for any mistake, english is not my first language

[jessamine-rose]

⊱⋅ Between Chapters ⋅⊰

Read my Yandere! Capitano fics first (*･ω･)ﾉ

Huhuhu I am back with more fluffy drabbles of Capitano x Damsel! Darling + an excuse to thirst over him in a different outfit. Now if you all excuse me, I will go back to crying over his recent Hoyofair appearance (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

Note:: Fem reader who is smaller and weaker than Capitano, this is not a dark fic but it is connected to a yandere series

♡ 0.5k words under the cut ♡

By now, the Captain and his wife are a common sight in Zapolyarny Palace.

It makes sense, given the separation they must endure throughout Capitano’s missions. Usually, Damsel just stays in his office. But on one occasion, she is allowed to enter the training area reserved for him and his subordinates.

To the Fatui, it is a glorious occasion!! To be in the presence of the Captain’s wife, to glance at her while sparring. The rumors about her frail countenance and enigmatic gaze are true, as is her hobby for reading. Even now, seated in close proximity to the First Harbinger, she devotes her attention to the book on her lap.

The nearest soldier can’t help but examine the book. A dark twist on Heart of Clear Springs, roughly two hundred pages.

At the start of their training, Damsel had opened the book to the first page. She flips through the pages at a quick pace, unbothered by the noise in the room nor the guard standing next to her. Once in a while, Capitano pauses his lessons to speak to her.

A few hours later, Damsel closes the book, keeps it in her bag, and spends the next few minutes watching her husband. Either she is analyzing his swordsmanship or she is merely lost in her thoughts of the story’s ending. She did finish a novel in one sitting so—

Then she pulls an even thicker book out of her bag.

The soldier can only stare, dumbfounded, as Damsel opens the second book—a dark fairytale from the looks of it—and begins reading. But their thoughts are quickly interrupted by the ominous shadow looming over them.

✿ ⚘ 

“Would you like to return to my office?”

“Huh?” You look up, halfway through the introduction of the story’s supposed Prince Charming.

Capitano places his hand on your shoulder. His gauntlets are off, and his ebony hair is pulled into a high ponytail. He is still wearing his simple training uniform.

“You have been reading at a slower pace. Is it difficult for you to focus on your books?”

Oh, that.

“Not at all,” you tell him. You let go of your book to intertwine your fingers with his. “Besides, I was the one who insisted on coming here. It’s nice to see you in your element.”

A short pause. Beneath his mask, your husband’s gaze must be one of concern.

“Very well,” he concedes. “But if you feel even a fraction of discomfort, inform me at once.”

“All right.”

With that, you let go of his hand and stare down at your book. But you don’t focus on the printed text; rather, you look up once your husband has resumed his demonstration.

Picking up his sword, he spars with another batch of subordinates. The black fabric of the training uniform clings to his body, making it easier for his men to follow his movements—and for you to appreciate every inch of his muscles. It has been quite enjoyable to watch him between chapters.

You cover your face with the book, hiding your smile.

Prince Charming’s introduction can wait. Especially when you have such a lovely view in front of you.

♡

Two drabbles down, an unknown number left to go. Aaahh it's always so nice to think about Capitano and Damsel! Darling ପ꒰⑅°͈꒳°͈꒱੭ु⁾⁾

Tag a Capitano enjoyer!! @diodellet @brynn-lear @leftdestiny-posts @euniveve @naraven @zhongrin @harmonysanreads @mochinon-yah @stickyspeckledlight @ainescribe @teabutmakeitazure @bye-bye-sunbird @jymwahuwu @nicebonescomrades

[hwallazia]

ANGELS IN TIBET – 송민기

synopsis . in which mingi clearly can’t keep it inside his pants. not even at the cinema.

pairing . song mingi & fem! reader

genre . smut (mdni!), established relationship, non idol!au.

taglist . @bro-atz @purplenimsicle @vampzity @iykyunho @yyaurii | apply to join my taglist ♡

word count . 1,7k

DISCLAIMER! dom! mingi , sub! reader , exhibitionism , cockwarming in a public space , clit play , reverse cowgirl position , mocking , dirty talk , praise , pet names (dove, good girl, babe & more) , wet kisses ooh , mingi is desperate for yn’s touch and attention.

NIC’S NOTES this was a request that i’ve had pending since april i think? and i’m so sorry for not working on it until now (like fr i’m beyond embarrassed, anon pls forgive me) but she’s finally here! as well as me hehe, i’m trying to get back on track with writing, it’ll take some time tho. for now, enjoy this, loves <3

mingi’s behavior could be defined as needy.

he swung his arm swiftly across your shoulders, keeping you safe and close next to him — close enough to smell his faint natural, manly and rich scent. he kept throwing his head on the crook on your neck and then lifting it, then letting it fall down your shoulder’s blade. why was he so impatient?

you tried to remain calm and pay attention to the damn movie playing in front of your eyes until mingi’s nth sigh struck your peaceful state of mind. “mingi, what’s wrong?”

your soft, low question made him tilt his head up, once again. “nothing.” his short reply caused your eyes to narrow almost shut — which he probably didn’t get to observe since the darkness of the theatre blurred some of each other’s features. an even quieter “then quit squirming” came from your lips and mingi jutted his bottom lip. “but i’m cooold.” he whined in response.

thankfully he didn’t see your eyeroll because he prolly would’ve scattered in tears on the spot. “how can you be cold when you have a big ass jacket on?” you paused, turning your body to analyze his perfectly covered figure. “and a sweater underneath it?” you deadpanned.

“do i look like i know?” he huffed, placing his head back into the juncture of your neck — might as well be a single organ now. “i just feel cold and i’m looking for my beloved girlfriend’s comfortable warmth. is that too much to ask?”

“but how do you want me to—” your complaint was cut out by the loud, clearly annoyed shush of the old lady sitting below the two of you. she angled her body so her bothered gaze met yours, her wrinkles were palpable thanks to the dim, yet shiny lighting provided by the projector. you mouthed an apology and gave her your most sweet, sheepish smile. her soft huff reached your ears and embarrassment spread all over your cheekbones.

“see? now the old lady is pissed at us because of you.” mingi dared to open his mouth and your head gyrated slowly, almost in a comedic motion, and he nearly let out his squeaky laugh at the sight of your unbelievable facet, jaw hang open comically.

“how dare you.” you quipped; eyelids almost closing your eyes as if you were ready to object, yet you remained quiet. you repositioned your figure towards the projected screen, causing mingi to abandon the occupied place. vague and nearly lifeless brain cells tried to recollect and understand what had happened during the time you drifted away from the movie.

mingi’s soft, low chuckle summoned the chilliest of goosebumps creeping down your spine, a slight arch going unseen. “don’t be like that, babe.” he reached for the side of your shoulder to squeeze it and to resume your last position; nose nestling on the lateral part of your neck again. he let a trail of wet, romantic kisses all along the valley of your neck, your ticklish skin made your body squirm and giggle quietly. 

“mingi—stop.” you muttered between little and nearly inaudible squeaks, a childish and wholesome smile drawn across your lips. something that mingi could see up close.

he’s just so in love with you. so madly in love.

mingi stopped for a moment, letting your hyperventilated self calm down; sweet strokes, provided by fingers full of affection, were present on the side of your shoulder. 

“hey babe?” he hushed in a certain tone. a chilly, gravelly voice scraping through you.

“hm?”

“i think i know a way you can warm me up.”

his mouth paced throughout the length of your neck to land a kiss on its soft flesh before flying to the shell of your ear; an enchanting shudder of anticipation exciting you already. “care to share with the class?”

your words, enveloped in a velvety hue of seduction, caused the little hairs placed on his nape to stand on end. he hummed in satisfaction before responding. “you fancy trying something new, dove?”

one moment, you were cuddling with your boyfriend in the cinema’s seats, watching the movie you had paid for. the next, you were cockwarming his girthy length — don’t worry! the folds of your loose, white skirt hid it perfectly. how sinful it was for a pearl-like fabric to cover such a lewd scene.

your walls clenched and relaxed against the sides of his cock every now and then from the excitement and adrenaline. plus, mingi moved incessantly, excusing himself by implying “he had a cramp” or he was “getting comfy”. if only the old lady could see that you and mingi could ruin a movie screening in more ways than just talking.

mingi’s low grunts tensed your limbs, your mind floating around already. his cock tip kissed your cervix deliciously; white spots filling your dark irises. “fuck, babe. so tight and wet f’me.” his grip on your trembling hip growing stronger as you greedily sucked him whole. “didn’t think you’d be up for this. y’ know, since you’re so shy” he mocked pathetically, whining like you would now if it weren’t for the place where this was taking action.

his big hands abandoned your shuddering hips, swiftly moving under your plush thighs; slim fingers curling up your flesh. you knew he wanted you to move, his uneven breathing and a slight tug on your skin gave him away so easily. but fuck, you couldn’t bring yourself to quench his desire — you already felt too exposed by just cockwarming him. your breath hitched as you clamped onto him involuntarily, your squishy insides making mingi melt in satisfaction. the lowest of grunts fanned against your earlobe. 

you couldn’t help the tiny mewl that slipped off your tongue. fuck, everything was starting to be too much.

and mingi’s fingers crawling their way to your swollen clit didn’t make it any better.

your shameless, pathetic moan startled the elderly woman seated a few rows down. again, she gyrated her core to stare in your direction, unamused of the interruption, but before she could meet your eyes, you hid your flushed face in the crook of mingi’s defined neck; teeth digging into the plump flesh of your lips to mute your whimpers and tiny cries from the old woman’s seemly acute hearing. 

mingi’s index and middle fingers didn’t stop working on your sensitive bud, but they did slow down their pace, setting now a very tortuous tempo; exasperated exhales fanned against his neck. mingi’s dark, lust-filled irises met the aged woman’s eyes, which were pouring annoyance.

his unbusy hand pointed at the screen, showing fake interest. “this movie’s real good.” he expressed, approvingly. at this rate, an oscar should be given to mingi because of his ability to remain with a calm demeanor given the circumstances. don’t get him wrong though, it took everything from him not to tell the lady to fuck off and let you and him be. 

 the elderly lady squinted her small eyes with disapproval — not that mingi gave a damn — and finally turned to face the projected screen once again. a quiet, soft exhale was released through mingi’s nostrils, his attention now fully focused back on you.

his deep, masculine tone rumbled through his core, and shivers were sent directly down your spine. “c’mon, angel. pay attention, i didn’t spend money on these tickets for nothing” he hummed, the intention of teasing was painted in his tone as clear as water. “or is it that you’re gonna cum?”

“ming—ngh! i—i’m s’ close. so fuckin’ close” you exhaled. “faster, fuck—please, faster” you settled your head, so it rested on his shoulder. he didn’t miss the chance to shower your exposed neck with wet, lascivious kisses while whispering the dirtiest things right on your ear.

“well aren’t you a greedy little thing?” mingi cooed at you mockingly one more time and with your bothered and high pitched, yet quiet whimper, he chuckled. “’s okay, babe, gonna give you just what you deserve for being such a good girl.”

your gummy walls clenched around his hardened shaft multiple times as his fingers played with your plush clit like a guitar in a relentless pace. 

“let me see you fall apart.” he muttered with the huskiest voice known to men, and with his cock filling you to the brim and his skillful phalanges driving you straight to the abyss perfectly, you reached a satisfying peak, crying out mingi’s name. he didn’t stop his sloppy movements though, completely committed to drawing out the sensation for as long as possible and when you finally felt completely sated, you let your trembling core collapse against mingi’s strong chest. 

his hands didn’t hesitate to wrap around your body, a trail of the sweetest praises showering you entirely. a giddy smile was drawn on your lips — your red, swollen and probably broken lip.

when the movie ended, you and your boyfriend made your way to the exit door, coincidentally meeting the hunchbacked old woman face to face. of course, you earned yet another displeased glance.

as you walked toward your apartment, mingi couldn’t help but remember the event that had happened not long ago and decided to express exasperatedly “oh my god, i was ’boutta throw hands with that nosy ass woman.”

you snorted at his comment. “mingi, she’s a poor old lady that just wanted to enjoy the movie in peace and not having to deal with a horny couple of teenagers.”

“babe, we ain’t teenagers. we’re wayyy past our twenties.” he stated the obvious.

you rolled your eyes playfully. “yeah, well, you sure don’t act like it sometimes. who picks a fight with an old lady during a rom-com?”

mingi chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “she started it! i was just trying to give you a little—”

“—a little what?” you interrupted, raising an eyebrow. “a little public embarrassment? because mission accomplished.”

he smirked, leaning closer. “can’t deny you didn’t like it.”

you huffed, trying to suppress a smile. “you and your little horny and helpless self… always getting us into trouble.”

mingi shrugged, unbothered. “i don’t regret a thing.”

“just... try not to traumatize any more old ladies, okay?” you teased, lightly tapping his arm.

“deal,” he said with a grin, wrapping his arm around you. “but no promises if they keep interrupting my movie time with you.”

“what do you mean? we didn’t even watch the movie!”

| masterlist

[the-oblivious-writer]

With Her I Die |20|

Past J.T to Eventual S.S x Female Reader

Chapter Twenty: The Poison's Far From Gone

warnings: violence, death, starvation, injury descriptions, trauma, discussion of murder, psychological distress, and threats of harm.

note(s): final destination AND superman??? this summer's already lookin' up.

taglist: @morganismspam23 @slutforabbyanderson @serendippindots @mikuley

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

It started with gentle fingers.

Lottie's hair slipped through your hands like dark water as you carefully separated it into sections. The attic was quiet except for the occasional creak of the wooden structure settling against the winter cold and the soft sound of your breathing. Light filtered weakly through the small window, catching dust motes in its path.

"You're good at this," Lottie murmured, her voice still raspy from disuse. A week had passed since Shauna's attack, and Lottie had spent most of that time drifting in and out of consciousness, her body fighting to heal from injuries more extensive than they'd initially appeared.

"I used to braid my little sister's hair," you replied, focusing on the rhythm of weaving strands over and under. "Before school every morning."

Lottie hummed softly in acknowledgment, the sound vibrating through her back against your knees where she sat on the floor between your legs. You'd positioned yourself on the edge of a wooden crate, giving you the perfect angle to work with her hair.

"You never mentioned having a sister before," she observed, head tilting slightly before you gently corrected its position.

"Stay still," you chided.

Lottie accepts your avoidant response. The silence stretched between you, comfortable in a way that still surprised you. After everything—after Jackie, after Shauna, after your breakdown—there was something unnervingly easy about being with Lottie. No expectations, no history weighing every word and gesture. Just presence.

"She's still not talking to you," Lottie said finally, not a question but a statement of fact.

You didn't need to ask who. "No."

"She will."

You focused on the braid, fingers working methodically. "You sound pretty confident for someone she beat unconscious a week ago."

"Shauna's anger isn't really about me," Lottie replied, that eerie calm in her voice that simultaneously fascinated and unnerved you. "Or you. Or even us. It's about loss."

Your hands stilled momentarily. "Jackie."

"Jackie. The baby. Control." Lottie's head tilted back slightly, her eyes finding yours upside down. "Everything the wilderness has taken."

You gently nudged her head forward again, resuming your work. "Keep still or this'll look like shit."

Lottie complied, but you could feel the knowing smile in her posture. "You're deflecting."

"And you're analyzing. How are your ribs?"

"Painful," she admitted. "But necessary."

You frowned at the phrasing. "Necessary?"

"Pain clarifies. Reveals truth."

"Jesus, Lottie," you muttered, securing the end of the braid with a strip of fabric torn from an old t-shirt. "Do you ever just say 'ouch' like a normal person?"

Her laugh was soft but genuine, ending in a slight wince that reminded you of her injuries. You moved around to face her, kneeling to examine your handiwork. The braid was neat and tight, keeping her hair back from her face where bruises had bloomed in spectacular shades of purple and yellow-green. Her split lip was healing, but the right side of her face remained swollen, her eye only able to open partially.

"You should see the other guy," she joked weakly, catching your concerned expression.

"I have. She's stomping around the woods scaring away any animal within a ten-mile radius."

Lottie's good eye crinkled with amusement. She reached up, fingers brushing your cheek with unexpected tenderness. "You're worried about her."

You didn't pull away from the touch, though perhaps you should have. "I'm worried about all of us."

"No," Lottie said softly, her thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. "You're worried about her. Specifically."

The observation hung between you, undeniable in its accuracy. You were worried about Shauna—her rage, her grief, the wall she'd built between herself and everyone else since the confrontation. She'd been spending more time alone in the woods, returning silent and empty-handed from hunts, avoiding meals and conversation alike.

"She's splitting apart," you admitted quietly. "And I don't know how to help her."

Lottie's hand dropped from your face, leaving a lingering warmth. "Some things have to break completely before they can be remade."

You stood abruptly, unsettled by the calm certainty in her voice. "That's some fortune cookie bullshit, Lottie."

"Is it?" She looked up at you, unperturbed by your sudden movement. "Or is it just a truth you don't want to hear?"

Before you could respond, footsteps on the ladder announced someone's approach. Misty's head appeared through the opening, her cracked glasses catching the weak light.

"Oh! There you are," she chirped, climbing the rest of the way into the attic. Her eyes darted between you and Lottie, a flash of something—assessment, calculation—crossing her features before settling into her usual eager-to-please expression. "I brought water and some pine needle tea. For hydration and vitamin C!"

"Thank you, Misty," Lottie said warmly, accepting the cup with careful hands. "You've been very attentive."

Misty preened visibly at the praise. "Well, someone has to look after you properly. Those bruised ribs need consistent monitoring. Did you know that with enough trauma, bone fragments can actually pierce internal organs? Fascinating medical complication, really."

You caught Lottie's eye over the rim of her cup, exchanging a look of bemused tolerance for Misty's macabre enthusiasm.

"I'll leave you to your nursely duties," you said, moving toward the ladder. "Thanks for letting me practice my braiding skills, Lottie."

"Anytime," she replied, her gaze following you as you descended. Just before your head disappeared below the floor, she added, "And Y/N? Remember what I said about breaking and remaking."

You didn't acknowledge the parting comment, continuing down the ladder with a sense of relief at escaping the intensity of Lottie's presence. As you reached the bottom, you nearly collided with Van, who stepped back with a wariness that had become her default around you since the incident.

"Sorry," you muttered, moving past her toward the cabin door. You needed air, space, a moment to clear your head.

Outside, winter had tightened its grip on the wilderness, the cold so intense it burned your lungs with each inhale. You wrapped your arms around yourself, moving toward the tree line where a fallen log had become your unofficial thinking spot.

Jackie's necklace hung heavy around your neck, hidden beneath your layers. You'd taken to wearing it since your confrontation with Shauna, a physical reminder of all the secrets and sacrifices binding you to this place, to these people. Your fingers found it through your clothing, tracing its outline absently as you gazed out at the frozen landscape.

You weren't sure how long you sat there, lost in thought, before the sound of approaching footsteps pulled you back to awareness. Travis emerged from between the trees, rifle slung over one shoulder. His expression brightened slightly when he spotted you.

"Any luck?" you asked, nodding toward the weapon.

He shook his head, settling beside you on the log with a weary sigh. "Nothing. Not even tracks. It's like everything with a pulse just fucking vanished."

"Maybe they have the right idea," you mused. "Get the hell out of here while they still can."

Travis snorted, the sound containing more exhaustion than humor. "Yeah, well, we don't have that luxury." He glanced sideways at you. "Thought you'd be with Shauna."

"Shauna's not exactly in a talking mood these days," you replied, trying to keep the hurt from your voice. "Especially not with me."

Travis nodded as if this confirmed something he'd suspected. "The Lottie thing."

You stiffened. "There is no 'Lottie thing.'"

"No judgment here," he said, raising his hands in surrender. "Just observation. You've been spending a lot of time in the attic lately."

"I've just been checking on her. Being decent."

Travis's expression softened. "Like I said, no judgment." He paused, seeming to weigh his next words. "But Shauna..."

"I know," you said quietly. "Shauna has feelings about it."

"That's putting it mildly." Travis chuckled without humor. "When Nat told me she had to physically restrain Shauna after she found out about you two... I haven't seen that kind of rage since my mom found my dad's second cell phone."

You winced at the comparison. "It's not the same."

"Isn't it?" Travis raised an eyebrow. "Look, I'm the last person to give relationship advice. God knows I've got my own shit to figure out..." He trailed off, his gaze drifting toward the cabin where Nat was visible through the window, helping Javi with something. "But I know enough to see that whatever's between you and Shauna, it's not just friendship. Never has been."

The observation hit uncomfortably close to home. Before you could respond, the cabin door opened, and Misty emerged. Something in her posture immediately set off warning bells in your mind—her shoulders hunched, her movements jerky and uncertain as she made her way toward your little group.

"Everything okay, Misty?" Travis called, apparently noticing the same tension.

Misty startled as if she'd been deep in thought, her head snapping up. "Oh! Yes. Well, no. Actually, no." She twisted her hands together nervously. "I need to talk to everyone. It's... it's about Lottie."

Your stomach dropped. "Is she okay? Did something happen?"

"She's fine. Physically, I mean. Well, as fine as someone with multiple contusions and possibly fractured ribs can be." Misty's nervous energy seemed to intensify as she approached. "But she asked me to tell you all something. Something... difficult."

Travis stood, concern etched on his features. "What is it?"

Misty glanced back toward the cabin. "I think everyone should hear this at once. Can you get Nat and Javi? I'll round up the others."

You exchanged an uneasy look with Travis before rising to follow Misty back toward the cabin. Whatever this was, the tremor in Misty's voice suggested nothing good.

------

Twenty minutes later, the entire group had assembled in the main room of the cabin. Lottie was conspicuously absent, still too weak to navigate the ladder safely according to Misty. Tension hung thick in the air as everyone found places to sit or stand, casting curious and concerned glances at each other.

Shauna stood by the window, deliberately positioned as far from you as the small space allowed. She hadn't acknowledged your presence when you entered, her gaze fixed somewhere outside. The distance between you felt physical, a tangible thing stretching across the room.

Misty stood in the center of the loose circle, uncharacteristically hesitant. Her usual frenetic energy had been replaced by something more sober, more uncertain. She cleared her throat.

"So, um, Lottie asked me to tell you all something," she began, voice wavering slightly. "And I want to be clear that these are her words, not mine."

"Just spit it out, Misty," Nat said impatiently from her position near Travis.

Misty nodded, taking a deep breath. "Lottie wants us to eat her."

The words landed like a physical blow in the silent cabin. For a moment, no one moved, no one spoke—the statement too absurd, too horrific to process immediately.

"What the actual fuck?" Nat finally broke the silence, pushing off the wall she'd been leaning against.

"That's—that's sick," Van stammered, disgust twisting her features.

Misty held up her hands, tears gathering behind her glasses. "I'm just delivering the message. She's convinced that she's dying anyway—that without proper nutrition and medical care, she won't survive her injuries."

"So her solution is for us to cannibalize her?" Tai asked incredulously. "That's insane."

"She says she wants to give herself to us," Misty continued, a single tear tracking down her cheek. "To help us regain our strength. She says the wilderness chose her as a sacrifice."

Your eyes instinctively sought Shauna's across the room. For the first time in days, she met your gaze, her expression a complex mixture of horror, disbelief, and something else—something that looked disturbingly like consideration.

"No," you said firmly, drawing everyone's attention. "No fucking way. We are not having this conversation."

"Y/N's right," Travis agreed immediately. "This is fucked up. Even for Lottie."

Misty's shoulders slumped. "I told her you'd say that. But she was... insistent. Said to tell you that we're all starving, that we're all going to die out here without protein, and that she's offering herself freely."

A heavy silence fell over the group. The horror of the suggestion was undeniable, but so was the truth beneath it—you were all starving. The hunting had yielded nothing for weeks. The traps remained empty. Even Tai's carefully rationed food stores were dangerously low.

"I can't imagine life out here without Lottie," Mari said softly, breaking the silence. Her eyes were distant, unfocused. "Even when she's being all cryptic and weird... she's part of us now."

"Me neither," Shauna said, her voice startling you after so many days of silence. She looked around the room, something resolute hardening in her expression. "Which is why we need to figure out what to do."

"What to do?" you repeated incredulously. "There's nothing to 'figure out,' Shauna. We're not eating Lottie."

"That's not what I meant," Shauna snapped, a flash of the old Shauna breaking through her detached exterior. "I meant we need to figure out how to survive. All of us. Including Lottie."

Tai stepped forward, naturally assuming the leadership role as tensions threatened to escalate. "Shauna's right. We need a plan. We have maybe three days of food left, if we stretch it. After that..."

She didn't need to finish the thought. Everyone knew what came after that—weakness, then organ failure, then death. It had nearly happened once before, when Jackie died. When you had all made an unthinkable choice.

"So what do we do?" Gen asked, her voice small. "There's nothing left to hunt."

"Actually," Tai said slowly, her expression grave, "there is one solution."

Your blood ran cold as understanding dawned. "Tai, no."

But Tai continued as if she hadn't heard you. "In survival situations at sea, when sailors were stranded without food or hope of rescue, they sometimes drew lots."

"Drew lots?" Javi echoed, confusion evident in his young face.

Travis stepped protectively closer to his brother. "It means they chose someone by random chance," he explained grimly. "To... to sacrifice. For the others to survive."

Horror dawned on Javi's face as he grasped the implication. "That's fucked!"

"It's survival," Tai countered, her voice steady despite the gravity of what she was proposing. "One dies so the rest can live long enough for rescue."

"This is fucking insane," you said flatly, looking around at the group. "We're not sailors on a lifeboat. We're not—we're not animals."

But your protest died in your throat as you saw the expressions on the faces around you—consideration, desperation, the dangerous light of hope. They were actually thinking about it. All of them.

"There has to be another way," you insisted, desperation creeping into your voice.

"Like what?" Akilah challenged. "We've tried everything. The snares are empty. The lake is frozen too thick to fish. There's nothing left to forage."

"So we just draw cards and kill whoever gets the short straw?" you demanded. "How are we any different from monsters then?"

"We're already monsters," Shauna said quietly, drawing everyone's attention. Her eyes were hollow, empty in a way that chilled you more than her words. "We crossed that line when we ate Jackie."

The brutal honesty silenced the room. No one had spoken so directly about what you'd done, not even after your breakdown had forced the truth into the open.

"This is different," Travis argued. "Jackie was already dead. This would be murder."

"Listen," Tai said firmly. "If we do this—if—we do it fairly. Everyone has an equal chance."

"Equal chance to be butchered," you spat.

"Equal chance to save everyone else," Tai corrected, her gaze steady and unwavering.

The conversation deteriorated into raised voices and desperate arguments. You watched in growing horror as what had started as an unthinkable suggestion gained momentum, solidifying into a plan. Within an hour, the decision had been made—not unanimously, but with enough support that resistance seemed futile.

You caught Shauna's eye across the room as the details were being finalized. She looked as trapped as you felt, her expression one of weary resignation rather than conviction. When she finally approached you, it was the first time she'd deliberately sought you out in days.

"This is wrong," you said before she could speak, your voice low and urgent. "You know it is."

"Everything about this place is wrong," she replied, fatigue evident in every line of her body. "But we're dying, Y/N. All of us."

"Is this what you call survival?"

Shauna's eyes flashed with a hint of her old fire. "Don't judge me for wanting to live. For wanting all of us to live." She'd suffer a slow and agonizing death if it meant you'd see another day... but she decides to keep that nagging thought to herself.

"Even at the cost of one of us?"

"Yes," she admitted, the single syllable heavy with the weight of everything the wilderness had taken from her—her innocence, her child, pieces of her humanity. "Even at that cost."

You wanted to argue further, to find the words that would break through her resignation, but Tai's voice cut through the tension.

"We do this now," she announced, holding up a deck of cards. "Before anyone changes their mind."

The group gathered in a tight circle, faces grim. Even those who had argued against the plan participated—the alternative, to be left out of the decision that would determine all your fates, somehow worse than the risk of drawing the wrong card.

"One card each," Tai explained, shuffling the deck with mechanical precision. "Whoever draws the queen of hearts is chosen."

"And if someone refuses?" you asked, still searching for a way out of this nightmare.

Tai's expression hardened. "Then we choose again from those who remain."

Your eyes found Travis across the circle. His jaw was set in a tight line, one arm wrapped protectively around Javi's shoulders. He met your gaze, a silent communication passing between you—this was insanity. This couldn't be happening.

Yet it was.

"Youngest to oldest," Tai decided, holding out the deck to Javi first.

Travis tightened his grip on his brother's shoulder. "Javi doesn't have to—"

"Everyone participates," Tai cut him off. "Or the whole thing falls apart."

With trembling hands, Javi reached for the deck, drawing a card and turning it over immediately—the three of spades. The relief that washed over Travis' face was palpable as Javi stepped back, clutching the card like a talisman.

The deck moved around the circle. Mari drew next, then Akilah, then Gen. Each revealed their card with varying degrees of fear and relief. None drew the queen.

When the deck reached you, your fingers felt numb, disconnected from your body as you slid a card free. The weight of Jackie's necklace against your chest seemed suddenly heavier as you turned the card over—the jack of clubs stared back at you. Not the queen. Not today.

Travis drew next, then Van, then Melissa. Each card revealed was met with the same mixture of guilt and relief. The deck continued its journey—Misty, then Tai, then Shauna.

By the time the cards reached Nat, the inevitable truth had settled over the group. One by one, they'd eliminated possibilities until only Nat remained. Before she even drew, you knew what card awaited her.

Nat's face remained impassive as she flipped over the queen of hearts. She stared at it for a long moment, then looked up at the circle of faces surrounding her.

"Well," she said finally, her voice steady despite everything, "isn't that just fucking perfect."

"No," Travis said immediately, stepping forward. "We have to draw again."

"Those were the rules, Travis," Tai said quietly. "We all agreed."

"Fuck the rules!" Travis shouted, desperation cracking his voice. "This is Nat! We're not—I'm not letting you do this."

You moved to stand beside him, your body positioning itself between Nat and the others without conscious thought. "He's right. Not Nat."

The group shifted uneasily, the fragile consensus threatening to crumble. Shauna stepped forward, her expression unreadable as she approached Nat.

"I don't... I'm sorry, Nat," she said softly, and you realized with horror that she was accepting this, that she was preparing to do what needed to be done. "I'll make it quick."

Nat's laugh was harsh and brittle. "Always the practical one, huh, Shauna? You going to gut me like you did Jackie?"

Shauna flinched as if struck, but didn't back down. "I'm trying to make this easier."

"There's nothing easy about this," Nat replied, her voice tight with emotion she was clearly fighting to control. "But if it has to be someone..." She straightened her shoulders. "Better me."

"Nat, stop," you pleaded, moving closer. "This isn't happening. We're not doing this."

But Nat just shook her head, a sad smile playing at her lips.

Lottie appeared suddenly, leaning heavily on the ladder. Her face was pale with the effort of motioning downstairs from her mattress, but her eyes were clear and focused.

"What's happening?" she asked, gaze sweeping the circle before landing on the queen of hearts in Nat's hand. Understanding dawned immediately. "No. This isn't how it's supposed to be."

"Go back upstairs, Lottie," Misty fussed, moving to support her. "You shouldn't be up."

But Lottie shook her head, eyes never leaving Nat. "The wilderness didn't choose her. It chose me."

"Enough bullshit," Travis snapped. "Nobody's choosing anybody."

Tai stepped forward, authority radiating from her rigid posture. "We drew the cards. The decision is made."

"Then make it quick," Nat said, turning to face Shauna. "Just do it clean. One strike."

Shauna's face was a mask of controlled anguish as she nodded once, retrieving the hunting knife you'd all come to associate with butchering. The sight of it in her hand—the same hand that had cared for you, touched you with tenderness—sent a wave of nausea through you.

"Shauna," you said, her name a plea on your lips. 

She didn't look at you, her focus entirely on Nat now. "T-turn around," she instructed, voice hollow.

To your horror, Nat complied, presenting her back to Shauna, to the knife. To death.

"Wait," you said desperately, moving forward. An idea struck you suddenly—not a solution, but a delay, a moment to think. "H-here." You fumbled with the clasp of Jackie's necklace, hands shaking so badly you could barely manage it. "Take this."

Nat turned slightly, confusion evident in her features as you approached. "What?"

"Jackie's necklace," you explained, finally freeing it from around your neck. You reached out, placing it carefully around Nat's neck instead, fingers brushing against her skin. "For... for protection."

The gesture was meaningless, superstitious, but it bought precious seconds. Nat's hand came up to touch the heart pendant, something like understanding passing between you as your eyes met.

Shauna watched the exchange, her grip on the knife tightening until her knuckles whitened. When Nat turned back to face her, something shifted in Shauna's expression—recognition, hesitation, doubt.

"Look me in the eye," Nat said quietly. "If you're going to do this, Shauna, you look me in the fucking eye."

Shauna's lip quivered, tears streaming freely down her face now. 

"Either you look at me," Nat said firmly, "or it doesn't happen."

A moment of suspended time—Shauna and Nat staring at each other, the knife between them, the rest of you frozen in horrified anticipation. Then Shauna's hand moved, the knife rising, and you knew with sick certainty that she was actually going to do it.

Travis moved before you could, lunging forward to shove Shauna back with enough force to send her stumbling. The knife clattered to the floor as he positioned himself between her and Nat.

"Enough," he growled, a dangerous edge to his voice you'd never heard before. "This stops now."

The cabin erupted into chaos. Van and Tai moved to restrain Travis while Misty rushed to Shauna's side. You stepped forward, putting yourself between those who surged toward Nat and Nat herself.

"Stop!" you shouted, loud enough that the commotion temporarily halted. "Just fucking stop!"

In the momentary silence that followed, Nat made her decision. She bolted for the door, shoving past a startled Gen and disappearing into the winter landscape before anyone could react.

"Nat!" Travis called, struggling against Van's grip. "NAT!"

"After her!" Misty cried, pointing toward the open door. "We can't let her get away!"

The implication of her words—the shift from sacrifice to hunt—sent ice through your veins. This wasn't the plan. This was something worse, something primal and terrifying.

"Get her," Tai ordered, and several of the girls moved toward the door without hesitation, caught up in the frenzy of the moment.

Travis redoubled his efforts to break free, desperation giving him strength. "Let me go!"

Van and Tai struggled to maintain their hold, pressing him against the wall. In the chaos, you noticed Javi slipping toward the door, his young face set with determination.

"Javi, Y/N," Travis pleaded, his eyes finding yours across the chaotic room. 

The decision took no thought at all. With a quick nod to Travis, you turned and followed Javi outside, mind racing with one singular purpose—find Nat before the others did. Before this descent into madness became something you could never take back.

Behind you, Travis's voice rose in one final, desperate appeal to whatever humanity remained in the cabin: "How can you DO this?"

The door swung shut on his words, leaving you and Javi alone in the winter wilderness, the hunt already begun.

------

Snow crunched beneath your boots as you ran, following Javi's smaller form through the trees. The boy moved with surprising speed and confidence, tracking Nat's footprints with an instinct honed by months in the wilderness.

"This way," he called over his shoulder, veering toward a dense thicket of pines. "She's trying to double back."

You followed without question, lungs burning in the frigid air. Behind you, shouts echoed through the forest—the others weren't far behind. The hunt had begun in earnest, turning girls you'd lived with, laughed with, survived with into something primal and terrifying.

"Nat!" Javi called in a harsh whisper as you entered the relative shelter of the pines. "Nat, it's us!"

For a moment, only silence answered. Then a rustle from above made you both look up. Nat peered down from a low branch, her expression wary until she recognized you.

"They're coming," she said simply, already moving to climb higher.

"We know," you replied, glancing anxiously over your shoulder. "We need to hide you."

Javi tugged at your sleeve. "The old hunting cabin," he suggested urgently. "The one Travis and I found last month. It's not far, and no one else knows about it."

Nat hesitated, clearly weighing her options as the distant voices grew louder. Finally, she nodded, descending quickly from her perch.

"Lead the way," she instructed Javi, her voice steady despite everything.

You moved as quickly and quietly as possible through the dense underbrush, each cracked twig and disturbed patch of snow feeling like a beacon to those pursuing you. Javi navigated with surprising confidence, guiding you deeper into unfamiliar territory until the shouting faded behind you.

The "cabin" turned out to be little more than a dilapidated lean-to, probably built by hunters decades earlier and long abandoned. But its roof was mostly intact, and the single room offered shelter from the elements and searching eyes.

"It's not much," Javi apologized as you ducked inside. "But Travis and I have been fixing it up a little. There's even some dry wood for a fire."

Nat sank onto a rough wooden crate, the adrenaline that had carried her this far visibly draining away. Jackie's necklace gleamed dully in the dim light filtering through cracks in the walls.

"They were really going to do it," she said quietly, disbelief coloring her tone. "Shauna was actually going to..."

"No," you interrupted firmly, though the image of Shauna with the knife raised haunted you. "She wouldn't have gone through with it. Not to you."

"You didn't see her face," Nat countered, a bitter edge to her laugh.

You had no response to that. The terrifying truth was that you had seen Shauna's face—had seen the moment when determination overcame her horror, when survival instinct overwhelmed humanity. It scared you more than anything in this wilderness so far.

"What happens now?" Javi asked, his young voice a reminder of everything still at stake. "We can't stay out here forever."

"And we can't go back," Nat added grimly. "Not while they're in this... this state."

You paced the small space, mind racing for solutions where none seemed to exist. "They'll calm down," you said, trying to convince yourself as much as them. "Once the initial frenzy passes, they'll come to their senses."

"And if they don't?" Nat challenged.

The question hung in the air, unanswerable and terrifying. You thought of Travis, left behind to face their collective madness alone. Of Shauna, her face streaked with tears even as she prepared to do the unthinkable. Of Lottie, with her eerie certainty that the wilderness demanded sacrifice.

"Then we figure something else out," you said finally. "We'll make it through the winter together."

Nat's hand came up to touch Jackie's necklace, fingers curling around the heart pendant. "Did you give me this for a reason?" she asked, gaze piercing through you. "Or was it just to stall?"

You hesitated, the truth complex and layered. "Both," you admitted. "I needed time to think, to find a way out. But also... it felt right. Like maybe it could protect you somehow."

"From them?" Nat asked, one eyebrow raised skeptically.

"From all of it. From this place." You gestured vaguely at the wilderness beyond the walls. "It's like... a piece of who we were before. A reminder."

Nat studied you for a long moment, something softening in her expression. "You're a strange one, Y/N. Always have been."

"Look who's talking," you replied, a ghost of a smile finding its way to your lips despite everything.

Javi cleared his throat, drawing both your attentions. "I should go back," he said, his young face set with determination far beyond his years. "To help Travis. To let him know you're okay."

"No way," Nat responded immediately. "It's too dangerous."

"Travis needs me," Javi insisted. "And I can move through the woods without being seen."

You exchanged a glance with Nat, seeing your own reluctance mirrored in her eyes. But the boy had a point—Travis was alone back there, potentially facing the group's displaced rage.

"If you go," you said slowly, "you go straight to Travis. No one else. You tell him where we are, and you two come back together. No heroes."

Javi nodded solemnly. "I promise."

"And if anything feels wrong—anything at all—you hide. You don't come back here right away in case someone follows you. You wait until it's absolutely safe. Got it?"

"Got it." Javi squared his small shoulders with a determination that broke your heart.

You pulled him into a quick hug, hoping it wouldn't be the last.