#he's literally forcing two people to move out of their offices just so the new girl is right next to his own

[apoloniaspiegelgold]

Now that my boss has hired a new PhD student, he literally straight up kicks me out of my office by the end of the month with no warning just so that the new girl can move into my office instead. So now I have to move into an office at the far end of the corridor whose inhabitant was at least asked if he'd be okay to move out of there into an empty office. And I'm just sitting here like ... why? Why not put the new girl into the empty office? What is this insanity?

[mickandmusings]

third times the charm

pairing: tyler owens x f!reader

word count: 3.8k

summary: life has a funny way of putting people in your path, and ultimately making them part of your life. but what happens when the one person you never want to see stumbles in over and over again, a disastrous tornado tearing up your path of moving on?

aka: the two times tyler owens enters and, consequently, leaves, your life at the wrong time, and the one time he comes at the perfect moment and finally stays.

warnings: reader is described in a feminine manner; why are we ignoring his bull rider trope? cause i'm not babes xx; angsty mainly, but fluff too; lovers to enemies back to lovers (sorry); this author knows nothing about tornadoes or weather so sorry

shoutout to megan moroney and her banger new album where this title and idea come from :)

-

i.

"What do you mean you're leaving?!"

Tyler shuts the tailgate of his red pick-up with a loud slam, the cowboy hat on his head nearly flying off with the force. Y/N stood just a few feet away, her arms crossed over her torso as her chest heaved in short, shaking breaths. The sunlight hits her just right, and the gold chain around her neck glimmers in the sunlight. It catches Tyler's attention from the corner of his eye-it had been burned into his mind from the moment he'd bought it with a chunk of his earnings from last year's rodeo. The chain was delicate, simple, but the charm had been the main appeal: it was gold, the same shade as the chain, but in the center of the small heart shaped pendant sat a capital 'T'. She'd worn it since he'd given it to her for a birthday present, and it had been the center piece of even their most intimate moments-her bare beneath him with only the glittering jewelry adorning her as he had her unraveling under his touch. Even the thought of it had heat traveling up Tyler's neck, and he swallowed down the feeling, along with all of the guilt bubbling to the surface.

"I'm leavin', simple as that."

"Ty, I-I don't understand. You get bucked off one time and you're giving up?! You've been riding since we were kids, I-"

He turns to her, emerald eyes blazing with an emotion he couldn't put a label on.

"I didn't just get 'bucked off', I almost got my head trampled in case you forgot!" His voice is laced with anger. He's not angry with her, he's angry with himself. After a series of unfortunate injuries in last month's local rodeo, Tyler knew he couldn't ride again, it would kill him. He'd spent the last few weeks in physical therapy and doctor's offices just to make sure the damn bull hadn't left behind more than scars.

It was better this way, he could leave his town behind, and forget about the deep, gut-twisting feeling of failure that sat like acid in his stomach. But leaving his hometown also meant leaving her.

Tyler had fallen for Y/N their junior year of high school, and they'd rarely been seen without one another ever since then. She was sweet and shy to his brash and confident, his biggest supporter-always sitting in the stands for all of his rides-whether he was the talk of the town or stumbling home, his shotgun rider, and the girl who wore his heart (literally and figuratively) on a chain around her neck. Looking at her now, with tears lining under her gorgeous eyes, he wanted to just forget all of his plans and pull her into his arms. He wanted to reassure her that he'd stay here, that he'd give her the life that he'd promised her-apple pie and babies, the perfect picket-fence life she deserved.

"Tyler, you-you can't be serious! W-What about your parents, your plans, hell, Tyler, what about me?!" Her shoulders now moved as she let out shuddering breaths, eyebrows furrowed as she grew frustrated. "Tyler Owens you promised me, you promised me a farmhouse, and a wrap-around porch, a-and babies! And now you're just gonna take off to God-knows-where to what? Storm chase?"

She stops and lets out a dry chuckle. She'd been 'chasing' with him before, vivid memories of him scaring her shitless chasing tornadoes in his truck, only to 'apologize' to her by making love in the backseat after the storm had passed. Through their time together, she, too, had grown to love the storms. Y/N took her camera into the storms with them, more than ready to capture the freakishly beautiful moments of pure disaster before it struck. She'd stand in the pouring rain next to him, laughing as wind whipped hair around her face. He'd snap a picture of her with her own camera that she'd set aside and she'd roll her eyes. They'd been happy, bonded by a mutual love of mother nature's chaos and one another. Now, she turns her back to face him, shaking her head as her bottom lip trembles.

"Ya know, I should've listened to everyone who told me to stay away from you in high school, that you'd just hurt me. I didn't believe them, not one bit, because I know you. You're running because you're scared. You don't have to run, Ty. You've never run from your fears, for God's sake you ride them! What the hell are you thinking?!"

Tears stream down her face, and Tyler feels his resolve slipping. He hadn't thought it through, not really, and now as she stands in front of him, he realizes he's only hurting her more and more. He needed an out, he needed to skip town, no matter who it hurt.

"I'm thinking that I'm a fuckin' failure at everything, no matter what I try! The only thing I'm good at is storms, chasin' them, getting close enough to see something! I fail at everything, Y/N/N, and if I stay, I'll just fail you, too. Over and over."

"Tyler, you've never failed me," she brings her hands to either side of his face, her thumb brushing a cut that still hadn't scarred over from his fall. Her eyes were blurry and her hands trembled. "Please, stay." Her voice was hardly a whisper, pleading desperately.

"You know I can't."

She nodded solemnly, wiping tears so she could take a final look into his eyes. She gave no warning when she launched her arms around his neck, all but hanging onto him like a child. He hugged her tighter than he ever had, and when she let go, he placed a final heated goodbye kiss on her lips. Y/N looks at him, her brain screaming pleas to make him stay, but she simply kisses his cheek before speaking.

"C-call me when you get there?"

He takes one last glance at her, taking her in completely, as if trying to memorize her. His eyes land on the jewelry adorning the spot just below her collarbone, the gold shining in the sunset, knowing he'd never see it on her again-if he ever even saw her again.

"You'll be the first person I call, baby."

Y/N's call never came.

She spent the summer miserable, but refused to take off the gold chain she hid under shirts. It burned her skin in a metaphorical sense, but she ignored it, just like the heartbreak that had festered into deep resentment for Tyler Owens. She'd decided to take off to the local university for a clean start, somewhere new, somewhere his ghost wouldn't haunt her. Things had begun to look up, and she found herself smiling again. The morning before her first day of classes, she almost took the chain off, but couldn't bring herself to do so.

When she spotted his tall figure sitting a row ahead of her in her Intro to Meteorology class, she pretended not to know who he was. It was only fair, he'd done the same to her. For a reason that neither of them could vocalize, they begin to hate one another. Without knowing it, Tyler had become the storm that had sparked her into chasing after danger forever, the one that had left destruction so fatal she wasn't sure if she'd ever recover.

-

ii.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Y/N rolls her eyes and nearly throws her laptop across her dorm room when she looks down at her field partner pairing. The name in bold stares back at her like some sick joke.

Tyler Owens.

She shuts her laptop with a force that could shatter glass and slams her face into her pillow to let out a scream that could have easily been heard four counties over. The universe had to hate her.

With one glance at her watch, she hops from her bed and packs her duffel, her camera slung around her other shoulder. After silently praying that this storm takes her away in one quick swoop, she opens the door to her room and stumbles down the stairs to the lobby, where he was waiting for her outside the double doors. She can already feel her skin flaming with anger when she catches sight of his towering frame, baseball cap thrown backwards over his head.

"'Bout fuckin' time sweetheart, thought the storm would pass before we even got out there!"

"Oh, kiss my ass, Owens."

She rolls her eyes and climbs into the red truck she had once been a permanent fixture in, feeling almost like nothing had changed since the last time she'd crawled into the passenger side. She had half a mind to let down the driver's side visor to see if her picture still sat inside it, but Tyler climbs in the second she thinks about it. The half hour drive is uncomfortable, silent, and laced with tension so thick both halves of the couple begin to wonder if the air supply is getting thin. But as the storm approaches, both of their eyes are locked on the massive twisting figure just ahead of them. Y/N reaches for her camera, focusing the lens as best as she can through the windshield of the truck. She sighs when the view is less than satisfactory. Without much thought, she begins to move the window crank on the door to let down the window.

"What the hell are you doin'?" Tyler's voice breaks their silence.

"What does it look like, Owens? Getting a better shot." Her body hangs halfway out the window, camera leaning out the window as she moves the lens and clicks.

"Get your ass in the truck, I'm not payin' your hospital bills when you fall out and I run over you."

She rolls her eyes and ignores him, almost her entire body hanging out the window.

"Okay, okay, get in the truck, I'll get you closer, Jesus."

She pulls herself back into the truck and rolls the window back up as Tyler moves forward down the muddy path, closer to the storm now building ahead. The wind and rain grow more intense, shaking even the bulky vehicle that could easily withstand even the most treacherous of conditions. The spiraling tunnel only moves at a more pummeling speed, and Y/N's sharp shout fills the air.

"Stop the truck!"

He hits the brake and before the truck even stops, Y/N's rolling out of the passenger side, camera raised as she captures a monster of a storm. Tyler finds himself silent, momentarily distracted-her hair blowing with the force of the wind, the smile drawn across her face, and the long sleeve button down she'd been wearing was slipping down her shoulders, exposing her tank top and-wait-he raises an eyebrow, his heart stopping. Against her neck sat a gold chain he knew too well. It stops him completely in his tracks, shocked that she still wore his initial around her neck. The sound of a roaring train pulls him from his thoughts and sends him leaning out his own door.

"Y/N," he's shouting over the loud winds. "GET YOUR ASS IN THE TRUCK!"

The barrel of wind only gets closer, the fierceness of wind making Tyler's heart race. The girl outside his truck, however, only smiles wider, raising her camera for another shot of the approaching storm.

"I'M FINE, TYLER. WIND'S NOT EVEN THAT BAD!"

Tyler huffs as his voice, raspy from yelling, shouts again.

"THAT WASN'T A REQUEST, SWEETHEART. GET YOUR ASS IN THIS TRUCK!"

She ignores his shouts, only squinting her eyes at the horizon as the wind picks up another notch, making the shirt now halfway down on her arms blow like a flag in the wind. Tyler gives her a minute to comply, hoping this was just a momentary phase of her being stubborn. After five minutes, Tyler cursed and stomped out of the truck over to her. He says nothing, picking her up over his shoulder.

"TYLER! WHAT THE FUCK?! PUT ME DOWN, ASSHOLE!"

He doesn't give in to her retorts, simply swinging her door open and shoving her into the passenger seat. He gets into his driver's side and slings his arm on her headrest, turning to back the truck around.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you have some sort of sick kink where you get off on ruining my life? I had a perfect shot, it-"

"You had a perfect shot of getting sucked into a tornado is what you had, Y/N. You're gonna get yourself killed gettin' that fuckin' close!"

"Like you would care." Her voice isn't even a mumble, and Tyler hardly hears her over the sounds of the storm.

It sends a jab of pain through his heart he doesn't expect, and instead of saying anything, he lets her stew in anger in his passenger seat. When he drops her off at her dorm, she agrees to email him her half of the project, and a week later he receives it.

He opens the email to find exactly what he imagines, the most spectacular shots of a storm he's ever seen. After the report and photos are submitted, the two never speak to one another again. They both graduate under the same Arkansas sun, but lead different lives in the same area of the country. Y/N swears she sees his truck pass her every time she goes out to shoot, and he sees her in every girl that stands in a field with a camera.

Y/N would never admit that she has a burner account subscribed to his livestreams, or that she laughed and smiled as she watched him hoop and holler with his ragtag group of friends, memories of the chases they once went on filling her mind more fondly than painfully these days. And if she had one of the red and white shirts with his stupid cartoon face plastered against it, well, no one would ever know.

When Boone and the rest of his crew would stop for food and rest breaks, if Tyler saw her name plastered in a newspaper or magazine, he'd put it on the counter next to his plethora of snacks. He'd never admit he'd cut her articles out of them and kept them in a small scrapbook that lived in his glovebox, right next to the picture of her that once lived in his visor-only because a magazine cut-out clip of her lived there now, her smiling with a massive twin barrel storm behind her, the gold chain peeking from the shirt was wearing.

-

iii.

"Ty, man, this one's a beaut! She's unreal!"

Boone's voice filled Tyler's ears from the passenger seat, but as Tyler looked out at the horizon, his attention was far from the brunette that sat next to him. He saw her car before he saw her-the same rink-dink, decked out, black Subaru she'd had in college, meaning she was here on her own, not for business.

His green eyes darted to the field across from where it was parked, spotting her instantly as she stood in the tall grass, hair blowing as she brought her camera to her face, crouching down to get the perfect shot. She shook her head when she pulled back from it, enjoying the sight in front of her.

Tyler puts the truck in park and all but barrels out of the door, his boots taking him towards her, but not nearly fast enough.

"Jesus, who's that? And why's she got Ty all in a tizzy?" Boone leans over to Lilly, who gives him an incredulous look.

"That's Y/N Y/L/N, she's a storm photographer, apparently he's got some fan girl crush on her or somethin', he keeps her work in a binder."

"Holy shit! Tyler knows the Y/N Y/L/N?"

Tyler would've blushed and denied Lilly's statement vehemently, but he was too far away to hear. Instead, the whipping winds and the sound of Y/N's delightful laughter filled his ears.

"She's a beaut, huh?" Tyler's voice carries over the noise, falling on Y/N's ears. She takes a breath and turns to face him for the first time in years. She nods slowly.

"Yeah, she's gorgeous. Got some great shots."

Her throat feels dry as his eyes peer down at her. She finally braves a look up at him.

"Um, I'm not studying it or anything, just bored, really. I'll let you and your crew have her."

She gives him a small smile, but he notes it's genuine as she caps the lens on her camera.

"It was good to see you, Ty. Good luck."

"Y/N, wait. I-I need to ask you somethin'."

She pauses her steps, turning back to face the man in front of her. For a split second, he looks just like the younger version that had left her all those years ago-the hat, the belt buckle, but none of that same all consuming fear.

"Sure, go ahead."

"Why do you still wear it? I saw you, that time in college, and when you did that shoot outside of Kansas City, the picture they published of you, it-you can see it real clear."

Y/N stills, pushing back hair that's blowing in the wind as she looks at him. She could say a multitude of things-how she wore it because she'd gotten so used to always wearing it. That she wore it because she wanted to hold onto him the only way she could. She could lie and say that she used it as a good luck charm. None of them would be the truth, and she was sick of lying to him, so she simply told the truth.

"Well, all the best chasers, they carry their first storm with them, right?"

She pauses, realizing how vague that was.

"What I mean is, without you taking me through my first storm I never would've done this. I was terrified of them, and you and that stupid red truck of yours showed me how beautiful they can be, and now I capture their beauty for a living. I never would've had any of this without you, so-"

She shrugs, giving him a small chuckle. The silence suffocates as he looks at her.

"Tyler listen-"

"If you're gonna apologize, don't. I'm the one that should apologize, I left you all those years ago. That was real shitty of me, and I didn't give you a warnin' or a reason why. So, I'm sorry, for all of it."

She nods, giving him a smile. The quiet floods between them again, and she pushes back her hair again before she speaks.

"I-I watch your videos, y-your livestreams. You're still crazy, but it reminds me of when we used to chase, and you'd scare me to death, and then you'd, uh, 'apologize' for it and, sometimes it's like I'm there with you."

He laughs with her.

"I-I've got every newspaper and magazine clippin' you've ever been in. You're pictures they're-breathtakin', it feels like you're standin' in the field right there next to you. I guess that's just because I used to be and memories, ya know?"

She nodded, giving him a sweet smile, one that sends his heart racing. They both turn their attention to the horizon where the storm seems relatively calm, at least by their standards.

"Uh, Y/N? I'm sorry, I promised you somethin' all those years ago, and I never made good on it. I think about that a lot, and-just-I'm sorry."

"I forgave you a long time ago, Ty, we were kids." She pauses, tilting her head as she looks at the storm brewing. "Besides, I don't think I'm cut out for that life anymore, I like life on the road. I mean, where else do you get moments like this? The storms back home are wonders, but nothing like this."

"I agree with you there," he chuckles. His heart pounds, and the words slip out of his mouth before he can stop them. "I miss you though."

She cuts her eyes to his own, as if waiting for him to explain himself.

"You were my original chasin' partner, ya know? Plus, when things got scary, you never flinched, not really. This reporter I've got now? God help us all, can't stand much more than a strong wind."

Y/N laughs loudly before she shakes her head.

"Well, you might be in luck. I hate working for that magazine, I really, really do." She turns to face him, camera pulled close to her chest. "The Tornado Wranglers hiring? I'm looking for a job. I have a portfolio if you need it, references too."

Her statement is laced with sarcasm.

Tyler finds himself laughing now, a wide smile plastered across his face.

"I'm familiar with your work, have it on good graces that you're just what we're lookin' for. Lucky for you, we've always got room for one more, that is, if you'll have us. I gotta warn you, those over there are a handful."

"If they're anything like you, I'm likely to fall in love with them instantly."

Y/N doesn't register the words stumbling out of her mouth until they'd already filled the air between them. Without a word, Tyler grabs her hand, pulling her in closer than people who have a history like theirs should. His calloused fingers reach out to the gold pendant lying on her neck, moving it back and forth between its fingers. It had withstood their time apart-it was scratched and a little weather-worn, but, then again, so were they.

"The clasp broke about a year ago, the rest is all original. Pure gold, willing to sell it for a good offer. The guy at the pawn tried to undersell me, I know what I've got."

Tyler's chest warms, that sarcastic, witty humor he'd missed back in full force.

"Do you take alternate forms of payment?" He pulls her in by her waist with a cocky grin.

"Depends, Owens, what did you have in mind?"

He cocks his eyebrow, giving her a sort of contemplative look as his hands rest on the small of her back, hers around his neck.

"Well, I still owe you about-," He lifts his hand from around her and pretends to count on his fingers. "A billion apologies, we could chase this stunner of a storm, drop these characters back off at the motel, find us an empty field, and I could apologize like I used to...maybe?"

She shakes her head and pulls him in for a heated kiss. They're both smiling so hard its hardly a kiss, but the feelings are there.

"You've got yourself a deal, but I'm keeping the necklace."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, baby." He kisses her head, pulling her back towards his group of friends, who were now whistling at the pair, obviously catching the interaction. "Fair warning, after he finds out just who you are, Boone's likely to fall in love with you."

She raises her eyebrow, pulling away and heading towards the motley crew ahead of her.

"Guess you'll just have to chase me next."

-

taglist:

@fraaaaankiiiiieee

[spdrvyn]

tearful territory

miguel and a sensitive, tearful reader. you try to overcome the obstacle that is sobbing and crying whenever you're confronted by your ever stern and stoic boss, but your habit gets the best of you. no matter how hard you try to hide it.

hurt/comfort. miguel is bad with feelings. reader is bad with regulating their feelings. bad feeling and bad feeling regulation everywhere! thank you for this ask, anon <3

dividers by @/cafekitsune

You've been labeled as the family crybaby for as long as you could remember, so when you moved out, you'd figured that the habit of tearing up over even the tiniest of inconveniences would evade you. After all, you were now a hardened vigilante, beating up bad guys, saving a bunch of people should have gotten you tough skin. 

Wrong! While you have obviously improved and it hasn't been as bad as when you were still a kid, the tears that found themselves home in your eyes were now just protected by a mask, a symbol of your heroic deeds that hides the weak, meek, and fragile person beneath it. 

As you got recruited into Spider Society though, your mask was on more than half of the time. Even when eating, you only had it half-lifted just in case push came to shove.

Was it a little ridiculous? Yes. More than. But you'd rather bare the strange looks of people passing by you rather than have a full cafeteria of spiders witness you cry. You certainly didn't need to be labeled as Spider Society crybaby too, making work arounds for your habit was working for you now anyway.

Unfortunately, the universe is cruel. Oh-so cruel. 

You were a relatively new addition to the Spider Society which means that the head honcho had been doting on you for a while now, doting was a strong word, but he'd call you into his office to give you feedback on your performance in missions so far.

Completely fine, besides most of the reports had been positive. Though, the thing about Miguel is that he's actually an uplifting boss when he can be. Which means he always gave you advice, tips to help you get better next time, and pointed out your mistakes from each mission. 

Again, completely fine! You were okay with criticism, more than okay with it. But that lump that formed in your throat, the warmth that crept into your face, it functioned like clockwork. So you've just resorted to keeping your mask on whenever you had a meeting with him too, problem solved. 

Another thing you didn't know about Miguel though was despite his lack of a sixth, spider-like sense, he'd a habit of his own. To be an observer, to pick up on the small details of the people he worked with. Even if he only saw them by mere chance, only passing by some in the multiple hallways of headquarters on occasion. 

It wasn't rocket science, even if Miguel did know rocket science, to figure out that you had an... issue with dealing with the slightest forms of rejection. Aside from the obvious hint that you were always masked around him, he also noticed that you were radio silent for most of the meetings, only interjecting with quiet 'mhm's and 'okay's. 

You were so quiet around him that it almost made him seem chatty. Miguel. Chatty. Those two words could not be in the same sentence, yet you made it possible. 

He didn't want to force you to take your mask off, the end goal wasn't to see you cry, but after a few months of having literal one-on-one meetings with him, he hadn't really sparked any form of connection with you. 

This time when you were called in, you two went through the ropes per usual. It didn't seem like you noticed Miguel's (un)conscious efforts to soften his tone, to relax his shoulders, and to not look completely stone-faced when talking to you. 

Miguel wasn't particularly used to this, has he had people cry in front of him? More than too many times, but never had he seen your case before. It made him wonder what was going on in that head of yours, to care so much about his input that you'd hide shedding even a single tear in front of him. 

The approach to the end of the meeting was steadfast, but before he let himself dismiss you. He asked, "Why do you always keep your mask on?" 

He knew fully well the reason why, but to hear it come from your mouth, would make it even more worthy of an answer. 

But the thing is that you don't answer him. It's the awkwardest moment of his life, he thinks. Two of you just standing there, his brows knit together in confusion and he's about to repeat his question or ask if you heard him until the smallest of squeaks ring in his ears and now you're turning your head away and clasping a hand over your mouth to conceal your noises. 

He followed in your direction, but he can't even see your face. Your shoulders shook as your fingers sloppily pulled your mask up so that you could furiously swipe at the tears that streamed down from your eye. You bit at your lip so hard to silence yourself to the point where you could be crying about how you're about to draw blood simply from the force of it. 

Miguel hadn't said anything, you couldn't see him either. How could you? You literally just broke down crying in front of him, there's no way you could ever show your face again here. 

You want to say something, you tried to at least. But all you get out is a choked, "Sorry, I'm-- Sorry." To which you don't even get a response to, but you can feel it. That thousand yard, judgemental stare that you always get for reacting like this. 

Which only caused you to get more shaken up when Miguel places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, which he uses to manuever you closer to him and to let him see your tear-struck face. Your first instinct to cower, you want to bring your hands to your face and peel your skin off like a banana peel, but Miguel doesn't let you.

In his other hand is a tissue to when he tenderly presses just below your eyes to wipe at the wetness, that hand on your shoulder moves to your chin and he lifts your face upward to get a good look at you. He doesn't look angry, rather concentrated. Locked in. 

Your chest heaves with the effort to keep it together, the onslaught of a really bad headache is rising over the horizon like it always does. Once Miguel's done, he discards of the tissue before he takes off your mask completely and sets it aside on his desk. The hand on your chin remains, a thumb on one cheek and the rest of his fingers on the other so your face looks a little smushed right now. A sight he'd like to appreciate if not for the circumstances. 

"So is this a common thing or?" The question almost seems a little unserious in nature, but that is mainly just the product of Miguel's awkwardness. He doesn't particularly do feelings, and he can't ask if you're okay because that might just lead to even more crying. 

Your voice is too dead to properly reply, you move your face in a half nod considering the grip he has on you. "And you've been wearing your mask because you don't want me to see?" He asks again, you nod more bashedly. 

A thin hum of understanding is all you can hear for him and he lets go of your face, but you can't hide anymore. Your mask is somewhere on his desk, it's managed to disappear among the slight mess that there is. It's awkward again, no words coming from either of you until–

"You're dismissed. Come back tomorrow." What? That's it? You put on this embarrassing display, you bawled in front of him, and he's letting you go? No lecture about how you need to be stronger of anything? 

The thought chases you in your dreams later on in the night. You found it hard to fall asleep that you swore you saw the sun peeking through the blinds once you were mentally fatigued enough to succumb to your exhaustion, you groggily swung over to Miguel's lab, your grip on your webs were too loose for your own safety but you managed to get over to him without any incidents. 

However, once his platform comes to a clicking halt, Miguel's back is turned to you. You notice that he wears a long sleeved turtleneck over his spider suit, a combination of articles you haven't seen on him before. 

The screen he was paying attention to turns off as he picks up a coffee cup on his right hand side and he holds it up to you, "It's colder out today." 

Whether that's to answer for the coffee or the drip, you don't mind. Silently taking the beverage, it brings warmth to your hand and you assume that it's freshly brewed considering the steam that comforts your cold cheeks. Miguel's attempt at small talk, despite how awkward, makes you feel a bit better. 

Maybe you needed this. This kind of one-on-one meeting. It's clear that he came to that same conclusion too, but for now, you'll enjoy your coffee, sit in the decreasingly uncomfortable silence, and look forward to the days you won't cry as much anymore.

[mphoenix-7]

Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 1: The Mission

Book Summary: John "Soap" MacTavish has hated you since the very first day you arrived on base and joined their Task Force. You argue all the time, and one day, it pushes Captain Price to his absolute limit. He sends you both away to an isolated cabin in the woods for a week in hopes you can put aside your differences and bond. Will it work? Or will you two just end up hating each other even more?

This is a slow burn enemies to lovers fan fiction featuring Soap and you, the reader.

Word Count: 5,585

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Soap is mean, like really mean, smut later to come, rough smut, lots of swearing, violence, descriptive, blood, angst, fluff, slow burn, (more to come as I write)

A/N: Just a reposting of my story on Wattpad to help generate attention for it! Please go give it some love if you’re liking it so far. My user name is Emily7love or just look up the title.

Master List | Next ->

Bitter Allies • Part 1

"Bravo 7-1, this is Bravo 0-7, give me a sit rep on your position, over."

Soap is currently kneeling in some brush, staring at the small military camp in front of him when the radio call comes through. Despite the fact that he'd most likely need to be adjusting the volume up soon on his ear piece, he still turns it down a little for now.

"This is Bravo 7-1, I've been in position. Waiting on 7-4 to move her ass." He all but growls back to Ghost. His hand tenses on his rifle at even saying those numbers. Bravo 7-4.

You were Bravo 7-4. Also known as (y/n) "States" (l/n). The all too grumpy Sergeant by the callsign Bravo 7-1 was John "Soap" MacTavish. Also known as the biggest pain in your ass since you joined up with Captain Price's Task Force about six months ago.

Now anyone who knew Soap would be shocked to hear you say that you thought he was literally the worst and most insufferable human being to ever stain the Earth. To everyone else, Soap was a funny, charismatic, rather easy-going, and quite friendly guy. Everyone loved Soap. He was the golden boy of the Task Force, of the entire base. People were just naturally drawn to him, and his warm personality.

You can't say you blame people for being shocked when they learn just how much you can't stand him. Cause all those things about Soap were true. He was funny, and friendly, and relaxed, and just a great guy to be around. He was all those things when he wasn't around you. The second you stepped into the picture, his amused grin turned into a stiff scowl. His sparkling eyes turned hard. His relaxed posture turned rigid.

Yeah, John "Soap" MacTavish hated you. And you hated him.

Why did he hate you? You weren't entirely sure. It just seemed like it has always been that way since day one.

You transferred into the Task Force at the request of Captain Price himself. Originally, you had been stationed at a military base in the United States, where you were from. Then one day your commanding officer called you into his office and told you that you'd been given a new assignment. You would be working with a British Task Force across the pond for the next year. A group of four SAS men. If things worked out, then you'd be staying there indefinitely.

You'd been thrilled at the news. You didn't join the military only for the benefits and the opportunity to serve, but for the opportunity to travel and to potentially live somewhere else in the world. Getting to be that while also being SAS was the dream. You worked so hard to get to where you were today. Sleepless nights of studying, hard days of working out and trying to improve and hone your skills, and now it was finally happening. You were being sent off to a new base and a new team. And not just any team, an elite task force. You'd finally been selected.

You met the whole team day one of your arrival. The first person you met was Captain John Price. He was a friendly but very stern man. The no nonsense type of guy. He gave you a tour of the base, and showed you to the female barracks. Once you were semi-settled in (all your belongings piled into your room) you went to meet the other members of your new Task Force.

Price introduced you to each teammate. They'd all been in his office by the time you and Price showed up. Two had been seated, and one was standing despite there being enough chairs. That had been Soap.

"Alright you lot, here she is. This is (y/n) (l/n). Straight from across the pond." Price introduced you. "(Y/n), these are boys of the 141. This is Sergeant Kyle Garrick."

"You can also call me Gaz." Kyle fills in, giving you a nod and a handshake. "It's nice to have someone from the States joining us." He was the one responsible for your callsign being States.

"This is your Lieutenant. Simon Riley. He goes strictly by Ghost." Price continues. Ghost doesn't make a move to shake your hand. He just stayed quiet. Didn't even give you a nod of any kind. Quite intimidating coming from a guy wearing a skull over his face. "And lastly, this is-"

"Soap." The man barks out before Price can say anything. You remember hearing Price sigh before finishing his sentence. "Sergeant John MacTavish."

"You can call me Soap though. Nothing else." His voice was harsh, and carried a tone of warning. If you to call him by anything else other than his callsign, there were going to be harsh consequences.

His arms were folded across his chest, and he'd glared at you during the whole introduction. It made you so nervous, the reactions you got from both Soap and Ghost. Price assured you later though that they would come around. They just needed to warm up to you. He'd been 50% correct.

At the time, Ghost had been the most terrifying of three, and the one you worried you wouldn't be able to connect with (boy had you been foolish). At the time though, Soap had at least said something to you. Ghost never said a word or even acknowledged you. And when Ghost did talk to you, it was always in a gruff voice like you were annoying him. But over time, you came to realize that was just who Ghost was. It wasn't anything personal. He was like that with literally everyone. It was rare to catch him laughing or to hear his gruff voice become lighter.

Soap, on the other hand, also spoke to you the way Ghost did, but he only used that tone with you. He was so cheery and light when speaking with the guys. Even with strangers, his voice may have been slightly more gruff, but never as harsh as when he spoke to you.

His personality was vastly different around the others as well. Whereas he could joke, laugh, and relax around them, he was the opposite around you. You thought for a moment that maybe he was sexiest and just didn't like women, though every woman he spoke to around base, he was the kindest and most respectful guy.

Now six months later, not much had changed. Soap still spoke to you in a gruff voice. He still scowled when you entered a room. He still glared at you any time he needed to look at you. He had gotten more "comfortable" around you. But really that just meat he was far more comfortable with insulting you directly. From the way you shoot to the way you eat, he could find anything to gripe about. And eventually, you decided that if he was going to be difficult, then you'd return the favor.

The first time you insulted him back, he looked shocked, then just flat out angry. Your encounters went from quiet insults being thrown back and forth and dirty looks to all out yelling at each other. Never physical fights, but Soap had punched a hole in the wall during one particularly bad argument.

The others couldn't stand you fighting. Gaz would do everything in his power to keep you separated and distracted from each other so you wouldn't start. Ghost tried to never be involved, but he would sometimes break up the fights by using his scary lieutenant voice and sending you both to different parts of the base to cool off. Price... he got the most upset. He was normally so calm under pressure but hearing you and Soap bicker pushed him to the limit. He'd yell at you both until he turned red and then normally punish you by making you do extra cleaning, harder workouts, or something else just as labor intensive.

You lost count of how many times you'd been in his office with Soap, getting reprimanded on your behavior. One of the worst had been when Soap actively tried to get you kicked off the team while you were sitting right there.

"She is a right pain in the arse, Price! I didn't even start it this time!" He claims, doing everything he could not to look at you.

"Oh blow it out your ass, Soap. You were giving me a look."

"Then don't fucking look at me." Soap growls through his teeth.

Price slams his fist onto the table, making you both jump a little and halt your bickering for a moment. "Can you two shut the hell up? It's just constant with you. I have had a headache for five fucking days cause of you idiots. What is it going to take for you two to get along?"

Soap is quick with his answer. "All this could be solved if you just deported her little ass back to the US. Seriously Price, she's caused nothing but trouble since she got here."

"I am right here, Soap." You huff out a laugh, not too shocked he'd say something like that though.

"I wish you weren't." He throws back, making Price intervene again.

"Enough! She's not going anywhere, Soap. Whether you like it or not, she brings in a skill set we are missing in this team."

"Like hell she doesn't! We can find someone else." He argues, earning a glare from Price.

"She is staying. I signed a contract that she stays for a year. If we break that, we lose our funding, our reputation, and a whole lot more." Price says, making Soap cross his arms and sit back in his chair.

"So after however many months she has left, we can get rid of her?"

"You'll be lucky if I keep you once your contract expires!" He shouts at Soap, which shuts the Scot up. Sighing, Price continues. "I will reassess at the end of year once States' contract has expired." He says more calmly, which makes your heart sink and Soap smirk.

You were dismissed then, but Price had you stay back. Probably to keep you and Soap from walking with each other, but he also has a few words for you. He reassured you that you were doing great. That you truly did bring a lot to their team and that he was happy to have you there.

"Are you going to send me back at the end of the year?" You'd asked him before you left, looking over your shoulder by the door while he stayed seated at his desk.

"Don't worry about that now, States. But know, I like having you here, and remember, it takes both of to sign the renewal contract."

That gave you hope. Price most likely would want to keep you, but he was also going to leave it up to you to decide whether or not you wanted to stay. At the same time, if things continued the way they were, it wasn't going to be good for team morale. If Price had to pick between you and Soap, you were sure he'd pick Soap. He'd been with the team longer and knew them far better than you did. This was your dream though. Being SAS. It could take years before you got another team. You liked Price, Ghost and Gaz. Could you live with Soap?

That meeting was only three weeks ago. You'd been with the Task Force for almost six months. Halfway through.

Your current mission landed you in Naryn, Kyrgyzsta. You were hunting down a military leader, General Azamat, who was accused of doing an illegal arms deal with Russia. Photos and weeks of gathering intel suggested he was guilty and currently at this military base in Naryn.

This was purely a stealth mission first. You and Soap were tasked with infiltrating the small military base while Ghost provided overwatch. There were three security stations. One on the East, what Soap was in position for, the South, the one you were headed towards now, and the West, where you and Soap would meet to take out the last one.

The East and South stations were backup generators and needed to be taken out first before the main one to the South was. That way you kept the element of surprise and didn't need to worry about the backups going online. After that, your troops would push in and secure the base, capture the military leader, and you could all go home.

Soap had given the update on his position, saying he was where he needed to be, about two minutes ago. Two fucking minutes ago. And he was already griping that you weren't to your position yet. His words rang in your ear through your comm earpiece.

"This is Bravo 7-1, I've been in position. Waiting on 7-4 to move her ass."

"Calm down, I'm almost fucking there. Don't be so impatient." You growl back. "Seriously Ghost, how do you even deal with him?"

"Haad yer wheesht." Soap growls at you, some Scottish slang you don't understand. No doubt he was telling you to shut the fuck up or something along those lines.

"Either speaking fucking English or don't speak, MacTavish." You bark, voice getting a little too loud for a stealth mission. Even if you weren't too close to the camp yet, there could be patrols you needed to be mindful of.

"How about you fucking learn about other's cultures and then we wouldn't have this problem. And don't call me MacTavish."

"I do know about other's cultures! I just don't care to know about the one that you came from." You throw back before Ghost gets involved.

"Shut it. Now. Not another word. Fuck's sake." You could practically see Ghost shaking his head. "States, how long till you're in position?" Ghost asks, directing attention back to the mission.

"Give me two minutes."

"Bloody fucking Jesus." You hear Soap mummer through the comms.

You take a deep breath to try and focus your energy back on your current tasks. Soap was not going to get in your head and mess this up for you. For anyone else, he would have stayed quiet. In fact, it probably wouldn't have even bothered him.

"Hold up, 7-4." You hear Ghost say to you after about 30 seconds of creeping your way to your position. "You've got a small patrol further up from your position. Just over the hill. Two men, I don't see anyone else. When you're in range, get a good shot of one, and I'll dump the other for you."

"On it. Thanks Ghost." You whisper back, readying your rifle and trying to be as silent as you can while you approach the men.

"You telling me it's gonna be even longer now." Soap complains, making you roll your eyes.

"I'm sorry your side didn't have rough terrain or anyone to fight off, Soap." You tell him sarcastically. "Some of us didn't get the easy baby route to take."

"I'll have you know I took down two fucking patrols all by myself while I made my way over here. And I didn't have Ghost's help to do it either."

"Fuck you." You growl at him.

"What did I bloody fucking say?" Ghost growls, his lieutenant voice coming out. You curse yourself as you let it happen again. Just ignore the Scot and focus on what's ahead.

"In position, Ghost. I see them. Clear sight on both, your call."

Ghost does the quick calculations in his head as he prepares his shot, trying to determine which of the two men he had a better chance of taking out. "The one with the flashlight is mine. Dump is mate. In three, two..."

You both took the shot, Ghost pulling his trigger just a millisecond before you to account for the distance. He landed a clean headshot while your first bullet landed more in the shoulder of your guy. You took a quick second shot, which finished the job with another headshot.

"He's down. Clean shots. Though try for the head first next time." Ghost quips. There was no malice in his words. Just Ghost joking around to ease tension. Soap clearly needed to take lessons from Ghost on how to tell a joke without being a total ass about it.

"Noted. Thanks for the advice, 0-7." You banter back, earning a scowl and an eye roll from Soap.

"Less talking, more getting to where you're supposed to be." Soap cuts in, ending the fun you'd been having with Ghost.

"Don't get your skirt in a knot. I'm in position." You huff, pulling out your binoculars and scouting the area. Despite this base housing a military leader, and having two back up generators, they really didn't have much security. No walls, no floodlights. Just a few patrols outside. They weren't expecting trouble.

"It's a bloody kilt. Not a skirt." Soap seethes, his jaw clenched. At this rate, he wasn't going to be able to finish this mission. Everything about you was just pure annoyance to him.

"Yeah whatever you want to tell yourse-"

"Are you two going to be able to finish this mission or am I going to have to pull you both from it?" Ghost barks over the comms, clearly fed up now.

You feel your face flush hot in embarrassment. Ghost has never threatened to remove you from a mission before. You've always been good and reliable. You can't fail and have it on your record that you were pulled from a mission due to not being able to get along with others. That was a death sentence for your career with the SAS.

"No, sir. Sorry, 0-7." You apologize, not hearing anything from Soap's end. He was probably pouting and internally cursing you for getting him in trouble, even though this was all his fault. "Going to head out for the South station. Bravo 7-4 going dark." You turn your radio from the public channel between you three to a private one used only for emergencies. At least now you wouldn't be able to hear Soap for a little bit.

Soap hears your radio beep once, signaling to him you'd disconnected for a moment while you advance towards your target goal. Once you had, he huffs and takes a moment to squeeze his eyes shut and collect himself.

"I can't fucking stand her, Ghost." He complains to his friend. "Why the hell did Price ever think it was a good idea to put us together on a mission?" He looked out into the field, making out the little shadow of you making your way slowly to the base.

"She's part of the team, Soap. Price has his reasons. Just focus on the mission and make it work." Ghost replies, not offering too much help aside from stating the obvious and putting Soap's mind back in the field. "Better get going. Your path is clear right now."

Soap sighs heavily and stretches out his neck a bit by tilting his ears toward each shoulder. One side pops a little, only relieving a little tension. "Alright. Bravo 7-1 going dark." He clicks his radio to the private channel and begins to make his way to the East backup generator's building.

By the time Soap reaches his building, you are already working your way inside the South building thanks to the small head start you got. You stick to the shadows as much as you can, thoughts wandering to Soap from time to time. Wondering if he's cleared his building already or if he ran into trouble. Then again, if it was really bad, he could have contacted you or Ghost and there would have been alarms going off. And as much as you hated him, you had to admit he was really good at this kind of stuff. Sweeping through a place and clearing it out. Quick and clean. Of course he'd never ever hear you utter any praises directed at him.

Your building wasn't too heavily guarded. You assumed most of their men were either asleep in the barracks, standing guard of where the military leader was staying, or off patrolling areas they deemed more important than the backup generators. The main building to the West would have most of their patrols since it was the more important building. That was the reason you and Soap needed to work on clearing it together.

You managed to clear your building fairly quickly with only one close call. One guard had seen you shoot someone else, but you managed to take them out before they could radio for backup, and no one seemed to have heard him yell. Once cleared, you plugged in the flash drive and uploaded the virus it contained to make the generator go offline.

You bring a hand to your radio and speak into it. "This is Bravo 7-4, generator down, South building secure. I repeat, generator down. Heading to the West building to the rendezvous now." You begin to head out the way you came in as Ghost speaks to you over the comms.

"This is Bravo 0-7. Confirm. You're all clear." Ghost responds.

"You got a sit rep on our precious Bravo 7-1?" You ask, forgetting to switch over from the private channel. You duck behind some ammo boxes and sneak along them, not expecting to get an answer from Soap. You expected him to be busy still and not on the public channel that you thought you were on. Before Ghost can answer, 7-1 graces you with a response.

"States, shut your fucking mouth and switch your radio over to public. How the hell did you get selected when you can't even use a damn radio." He snarls, making you pause. Soap's words always kinda stung a bit, but some more than others.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Am I not allowed to have a sit rep on you?" You ask, ignoring your slip up of being in the wrong channel.

"No." He answers flatly, making you sigh and roll your eyes. So much for working as a team. "And switch-"

You switched over while he was mid sentence, not wanting to hear his grating voice anymore. You were getting a little worn down at this point. It wasn't like you enjoyed arguing with Soap as much as you did. It was exhausting. Being out in the field where you were already stressed was making it a lot worse.

"He's almost done." Ghost answers you, keeping you updated since Soap clearly wasn't going to. "Just head to the rendezvous, States."

You grumble softly but do as you are told. You mutter a "copy" into your radio before slowly and carefully making your way to the rendezvous. You hear a soft beep shortly after, signaling Soap had reconnected to the public channel. You try to avoid using your radio after that, even skipping check-ins since it seemed that Soap was going to make any use of your radio an unpleasant experience. Though eventually you do need to give an update that you were at the rendezvous, that way Soap wouldn't shoot you.

You move to the side of a building and crouch down. "Bravo 7-4 approaching rendezvous." You sigh to yourself before adding, "Bravo 7-1, please let me know when you are on your way."

"I'm already here. Look to your bloody right 7-4." You look almost directly to your right, which is met with an annoyed sigh. "Not that far. Back to your.. straight.. just- Fucks sake, by the crates!"

"You're not giving me good directions!" You silently yell back, still looking for him.

"By the crates! The only crates in the area! I'm practically in the open."

You see him then. His stupidly handsome face turned into a scowl and his piercing blue eyes glaring at you. He was not in the open, only his head poking up from the crates. You sent the same look right back to him and make your way over, looking around and making sure the way was clear so you wouldn't compromise your position. He was kind enough to at least raise his gun and cover you as you made your way over. Once behind the crates, back pressed to them, he relaxes his position and ducks behind them with you.

"States, look at me," Soap says, his voice deep and gravely. The only tone he ever seemed to use with you. "I want this done clean and easy. No fuck ups. You're going to follow my lead and stay out of my way. And I don't want to hear a single word from you unless it's mission related. You got that?" He lectures you.

You are so, so tempted to roll your eyes at him. He was talking to you like you were a marine fresh off selection. Not a five year veteran who was selected for an elite special forces team. He didn't even outrank you by that much. Not enough to make a real difference. The only thing he had up on you was experience and maybe two years in age.

You're silent for a long moment, glaring at him until he repeats himself a little.

"Do you understand?" He annunciates each word, and you swallow down the choice of words you had for him. This wasn't the time or place for that. You were in the middle of a mission that could go belly up and turn dangerous. You didn't need to be fighting the sergeant on this.

"You got it." You say tightly, mustering up all the strength you possessed not to say more than that to him.

Soap seemed surprised you agreed so easily, but he eyes you suspiciously for a moment before nodding. "Good." He nods before reaching for his radio. "Bravo 0-7, this is 7-1. Going in. Rest of the troops be ready in five minutes and wait for the signal."

"Copy, 7-1." Ghost confirms. "Be warned, I see multiple troops in the vicinity of the West security building. Some men have different uniforms. They look to be General Azamat's men. He could be in there."

You furrow your brows at that. You were expecting a lot of troops in that area, but the military leader you were after wasn't supposed to be in there. There was a bunker in the middle of the camp that he was supposed to be in. It wasn't going to be a significant change the mission though. It just meant your job had become a lot harder. More men to clear out without raising alarm.

"This is Bravo 7-4, 0-7 what's the best way in?" You ask, refusing to look at Soap. You saw his head turn to look at you from the corner of your eye.

"If you wanna come home looking like Swiss cheese I'd go with the front door. Around the back might be your best shot, but I can't get a clear view from my area." Ghost informs you.

"Can you reposition and-"

"No." Soap immediately cuts you off, making you glance to him. "We don't have time for a reposition. We need to move before they realize their backup generators have been breached."

"You just don't like it cause it was my idea." You accuse, watching as Soap visibly becomes agitated.

"I don't like it cause it's a bloody stupid idea!" Soap says through clenched teeth. He was getting right in your face. You were about to tell him off until Ghost's voice filled your left ear.

"Soap's right. There's no time. Head to the back and make due with that entry point. We'll go loud if we need to."

Soap wore a smug look as Ghost sided with him. You despised it. "See? Told you it was a stupid idea." He reiterates, still way too close for comfort.

Your anger flared, and you shoved him back with a forearm to his chest. He reacted instantly, grabbing your arm and flinging it away as if it had burned him. The movement was so quick, it surprised you a bit, and all you can do is stare at him with wide eyes.

"Touch me again, and you're going to regret ever signing up for the military," he growled, his finger jabbing the air between you before standing up and storming off without attracting too much attention.

You're left stunned for a moment, though you're not sure how you thought he was going to react to you pushing him. Within a matter of seconds, you gather yourself, reminding yourself that you were still in enemy territory and needed to focus. With a reluctant sigh, you followed after him.

You managed to make your way to the back of the West Building with Soap without too many complications. The most you needed to really do was duck behind some parked trucks as a military jeep rolled by. It exited the compound, likely heading out to meet a patrol for a shift change.

You and Soap didn't say a single word to each other the whole way. For a stealth mission, that was preferable. However, you could feel the tension between you and Soap. Disdain was radiating off him, and you didn't want to get too close to him in fear he was going to blow up at any second.

There's a line up of vehicles that serve as your cover for the time being as you sneak along one side of them. Suddenly, you nearly collide with Soap when he abruptly raises his hand, signaling you to stop. There's a group of four men all standing in a small circle, talking and smoking together. They're isolated from other groups but taking out a group of four could be very difficult to do.

Soap takes a few steps back, waving for you to back up as well. "We can't take that group out by ourselves, we're going to have to go around." He tells you in a hushed voice as you attempt to peak around him to get a good view of the targets blocking your path.

"It's only four. We can both take out two." You suggest, but, just like all your other ideas, Soap is fast to shut that one down too.

"Not a chance. You suck at hitting multiple headshots." He accuses.

That makes your blood begin to boil. You were not the God awful shot he made you out to be. In fact, back on your base in the US, you were considered to be one of the better shooters.

"I don't suck at making headshots." You glare, making him huff at you.

"Oh really? You missed the one earlier. Ghost managed to hit it from hundreds of meters away, and you bloody miss from a few feet. Your aim is absolute dog shite, States. I'm not going to have you mess up this entire mission cause you think you're better than you are."

His voice was harsh, as always, and his glare was biting. You felt your eyes burn as tears formed, but you refused to let Soap see you cry. He'd only roll his eyes and call you a baby. Crying would only give him more reasons to think you didn't belong here, that you weren't as good as the rest of them.

There were so many things you wanted to say to him in that moment, but you couldn't. The words got caught in your throat, and you feared that if you opened your mouth, a sob would escape. All you could do was look away and clench your jaw, masking your hurt feelings as anger instead.

Soap seems to take your silence as you submitting. "Come on. We'll go around that way."

He was motioning to a camp-like area that seemed mostly deserted, though there were probably men sleeping in the multiple tents that were set up. Along with the tents, there was some campfires and some small boxes of what looked to be filled with MREs.

As Soap quickly moved to the new area to bypass the group of men, you glanced back at them. You knew you could land those headshots. If Ghost had been with you, you would have taken them down already. You were tired of Soap thinking you were inferior and wanted to prove him wrong so badly. You knew you could land those headshots...

Raising your rifle slowly, you lined up the shot for the first target and mentally mapped out the sequence. One on the right, then left, then back right, and then back left. A simple zig-zag pattern. Easy enough.

Right as you're about to pull the trigger, you hear Soap's voice crackle through the comms. His voice was deep and full of warning and venom. 

"Don't you fucking dare, States."

But you dared. You wanted more than anything to prove him wrong. You slowly exhaled and pulled the trigger.

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 8 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: this one is a bit on the shorter side, but I promise next chapter will be juicy! 😉

W/C: 3.086

part seven

"Wait- why am I actually kind of bitter about this?"

I mumble, looking up at Luis. He turns around, moving his camera away to look at me.

"Bitter about what?" He asks, fidgeting with the settings of the device.

"They literally crap out money- but get a free BMW?" I question, folding my arms.

"Oh, please. Will you stop being such a negative person?"

He gives me a nasty look, his hand coming to grab my arm.

"Or go sit in the car..?" He adds, pointing behind me.

"No, it's too hot to sit in the car.." I complain, adjusting my sleeve.

"Why did you even follow me here in the first place?" He asks, raising his brows.

"I was done with my to-do list and didn't want to stay cooped up in the office.."

Not to mention to avoid the insanely annoying looks I had been receiving ever since those stupid rumors and photos had been out.

"Okay, just stay back and watch then.."

I watch him make cinematic shots of each individual model and car. My patience begins to thin when he's still busy with it twenty minutes later.

I pull my phone out of my pocket to keep myself busy. I carefully scroll through my Instagram explore page, ignoring the thousands of follower requests to my account.

The internet was very quick, so within hours of my face being online, people had found both my full name and social media accounts.

"y/n!"

I freeze, holding my phone against my chest, and turn in the direction the noise came from.

I make immediate eye contact with Valeria, her obnoxiously fake smile burning my eyes instantly.

"Yeah? Anything wrong with the shoot?" I ask, shoving my phone into my pocket.

"No, the players have just arrived- and it's a better look if you're off your phone and look interested."

I fight the urge to snort at her ridiculous comment, and just nod before I lose it.

"Sure, any reason you're here today? It's only for some short clips..”

I watch her take a step forward, a hand reaching up to her hip. She moves her neck in a weird way, staring at me for a moment.

"It's always good to see how my juniors work, and how close they are to the players is really something I like keeping an eye on.."

Oh- surprise, she was here for something stupid!

I was already over her snarky remarks, especially those insinuating a romantic relationship between Jude and me.

The thought only makes me want to gag.

I shiver at the cursed idea, noticing a few players already walking over to check out the new car they chose, and look back at Valeria.

"Well, I'm sure some of the guys really need your presence and knowledge. Please, go and join them.."

I instigate, hoping and wishing she goes to bother Toni instead.

For some reason, he could handle her bullshit really well.

"Oh, don't mind if I do.." She chuckles, immediately turning her back to me and walking away.

I sigh in relief, rubbing my nape to try to release some tension from my body.

I begin walking up to the cars myself, reading off every license plate to see which player got what model.

I stop at the car chosen by Aurélien, observing the details of the 'i4 eDrive35'.

« Très belle, non? » I hear him say. I nod, pursing my lips.

« Le couleur- noir est parfait.. » I compliment, stepping back to get a better view.

I open my mouth to say something else- but I'm startled by a loud car horn, it almost makes my eardrums explode. I shut my eyes tightly, not reacting fast enough to cover my ears properly.

"What the fuck.." I mumble, looking to my left. An obviously aggravated expression on my face, because who the hell thought that was a good idea?

“Jude! Get out of your mom’s car, please!” I exclaim, seeing him stand at the driver’s door.

The man couldn’t even drive, but got to choose a car for himself?

Not even that- he also chose the most expensive model worth more than a hundred thousand euros?

Life is so unfair.

“You’re standing in the way!” He exclaims, walking around to sit in the passenger seat. Another staff member comes over to drive him around the parking lot.

I give him a nasty look, stepping aside and looking back at Aurélien.

“Why don’t you join him?” He suggests, an obvious smirk on his face.

“What? Why would I do that?” I ask, raising my brows and folding my arms defensively.

“You know- nice car and fun drive..” He trails off, glancing at the moving car.

“I would feel like I’m in danger without him even being the driver..” I state, shielding my eyes from the sun with my hand.

He chuckles, as if to mock the fear for my safety. I shrug it off, looking behind me to see where Luis is.

“Come on- get in the car and I’ll get Luis to do a little video..” I usher, walking away to get Luis.

The entire shoot takes us about an hour before we’re finally done. I quickly bid farewell and thank fellow staff members for their hard work before jumping into my car.

I go to start my car, looking up to see where Luis is. I roll my windows down, letting some fresh air into the car, hoping he’ll be here quickly.

“No- it’s just annoying because I’m trying to do my job properly and I’m getting the craziest stares. Like, does having a conversation with someone mean we’re married with three kids and a chihuahua?!” I exclaim, looking at Amira on FaceTime.

“And you attended his match, and you wore his name on your shirt and spoke to his family and-"

I cut her off with a loud groan, rubbing my eyes in irritation.

“You’re the one who set me up!”

“I thought you already knew it was his shirt! Should I have worn Jude’s while you wore Trent’s?” She defends herself, a smirk forming on her lips.

I shake my head, dropping my pencil on the table.

I had been studying all day and had stopped the instant Amira called me.

“The way I can’t even get mad at anyone about this- ugh..” I complain, shifting in my chair.

“And those follow requests are so annoying..”

I grumble, totally aware of the fact that I had been complaining about literally every single thing and then some.

“Girl, if you set your account on public again and accept those followers..”

“What? I’m going to clout chase being that douche's fake girlfriend?”

“Obviously?”

“I have to take over my dad’s firm one day, and you want me to be known for dating my coworker?”

“Too late-"

I stop paying attention to what she’s saying when the front door opens, my gaze moving to see my dad walking in.

“I’m going to call you back later.” I mutter to Amira, waving at her until she hangs up.

I close my laptop, standing up to walk over to the door.

“Hey, dad- you’re late.” I say, grabbing his laptop bag off of him.

“I had a lot of work to review. Did you have dinner?” He asks, hanging his coat up on the coat rack.

“I had some of the food auntie Carmen made. You?”

“We all had dinner in the office. Everyone has been going home late these days.” He says, washing his hands in the kitchen sink before loosening his tie.

“With what?” I ask, setting his laptop bag on the table, prying into his business.

“Can’t say, but- don’t you think you need to tell me something?” He suddenly asks, turning to me.

I freeze, looking at him with wide eyes.

What the hell would I be hiding from him?

“Uh- no? I’m not sure what you’re talking about?” I state, scratching my nape in confusion.

“Are you sure?” He presses on, coming to hold onto my shoulders.

“I’m sure. What am I supposed to hide from you?” I ask, getting rather defensive, a frown forming in between my brows as I keep staring at him.

He notices my irritation, letting go of my shoulders and holding his hands up in surrender.

“Okay- I understand. Don’t get all angry at me..” He says, smiling.

“I’m not angry- just confused..”

“Forget I asked- How was work? How about you tell me about that instead?”

I purse my lips, looking down at my laptop.

“Alright, the players got new cars, so we had to do a shoot for BMW..” I mutter, fiddling with my notebook.

“You look so down, y/n. What? Are you jealous? I got you your new Audi less than two years ago..”

“What do you mean, dad? I love that car, would not exchange an Audi for a BMW- I have some car knowledge.” I state, my expression changing as I explain to him.

“That’s right! Come to me when you really want to change your car. I’ll call up some people I know.”

I make my way towards the printer, looking for the documents I had sent over to be copied a couple hours ago. Finding them, I quickly read them through to confirm the pages are complete, until I’m stopped by Hugo.

“Are you ready for El Classico week?” He asks, making a copy of something.

Most people, as in football fans, would say an El Classico is a match you shouldn’t miss. The long-standing rivalry between the two clubs was always interesting to watch, and I would definitely agree a hundred percent-

Only, if it didn’t mean we had to ensure our match posts, interviews, and statements were properly prepared and triple-checked and approved days leading up to the match.

Of course, I loved watching the game- but the way it exhausted literally everyone involved was no fun.

What made it harder was the fact that we had a whole Champions League match to worry about first. To sum it all up, no one was getting sleep for the next two weeks.

“Yeah, just really busy with preparations.” I reply, folding the corner of the documents.

“Good luck, we’ve all been having sleepless nights. It will be worth it in the end- you’ve experienced this before. Just keep on doing what you always do.”

I nod in acknowledgment, smiling at him.

“You’re right, we will put our best foot forward.” I give him a thumbs up, chuckling.

“Good- I’ll see you at lunch. Work hard!” He encourages, patting my shoulder before leaving with his printed papers.

I sigh in relief when he leaves, making my way up to my desk. I place the documents on the table, before running down to the pitch. Having to finish some last-minute recording of the match preparations.

I walk over to the pitch, training is already in full motion, and I notice Luis already there. I look around for any other staff members, only seeing the creepy guy I ran into weeks ago standing across the pitch.

The guy was a walking, real-life jumpscare at this point. I’d only run into him at random moments, and the way he’d look at me had my heart leaping into my throat.

“You’re late.” Luis complains, bringing me out of my thoughts, fiddling with a black cable.

“Did those two minutes kill you?” I ask, sighing, and look at the players who were training.

“Of boredom, yes..” He replies, and I notice the small- very slight compliment in his words. A smile forming on my face as I chuckle.

“We would’ve been absolutely fucked if Kepa didn’t save that one..” I mutter, insanely stressed, as I eye the scoreboard in the Lluís Companys Olympic Stadium. A temporary stadium FC Barcelona had been using for this season.

“Don’t say that- you have no trust in this team whatsoever..” Luis complains, looking up at me.

“Who will score?” I ask, we loved guessing who would score and assist goals during every match.

“Jude.” He immediately says, not hesitating one bit.

“No- I’m guessing Vinicius..” I say, eyes darting back to my laptop screen.

“I will be right- just watch..”

“It’s his second El Classico and his first in season one. What is he going-” I immediately stop talking when I notice a chance to score, my hands tangle into my shirt as I see how much space there is to score.

I gasp, and my jaw slacks open when Jude scores an absolute screamer, which I’d obviously never admit to him.

“I told you!” Luis screams, celebrating like it’s his birthday. I scoff, secretly happy we were put out of our 0-1 misery, and search for the draft I’m supposed to publish.

A couple minutes pass, it’s almost full time, and extra time is finally announced. The away side is full of Madridistas, all sitting on the edge of their seats until Luca kicks the ball towards Jude and GOAL!

The away side celebrates happily, with another El Classico win in our pocket. I quickly manage and do what I have to do, before we both get up to go back inside.

I was both delighted and annoyed at the fact that we won. Of course, it’s always amazing to win a match like this, especially when we were doing so well this season. Also because it’s Luca’s 500th match, and an assist is pretty amazing to pull off on a day like this.

The only thing making me have bitter feelings was the fact that I had to interview Jude today. Normally, Man Of The Match interviews with him were already horrific to experience. An elaborate interview with him, after I’d been avoiding him like the plague, wasn’t necessarily something I would want to do.

“Can you go first? I’ve got to pee really badly..” I say to Luis, placing my bag down and running towards the restroom. Finishing my business up quickly and washing my hands thoroughly.

I look around me for a bit, knowing that sometimes players would use these restrooms as well. I had heard about instances where the players of the opposite team had raged against our team’s staff members. Which definitely had me watching my back in moments like these.

I had interacted with some players of FC Barcelona, and they hadn’t been disrespectful so far.

Thus, I’m not too fazed when the door to the restroom opens. I look up as a sweaty and tired Ferran Tores walks in.

We make immediate eye contact, and I nod in greeting, shooting him a quick ‘hello' before pulling some paper towels from the dispenser to dry my hands.

He seems to be seething in anger, so I break eye contact, looking away.

“This is a staff bathroom, are you aware of that?”

He suddenly says, water splashing from the faucet as he begins washing his face.

“Sorry?” I question, wondering what he’s getting at.

“Not for girlfriends.” He mutters, turning the faucet off.

My face twists into one of confusion, the words throwing me for a loop. Seems like he notices, and he opens his mouth again.

“You’re Bellingham’s girl, aren’t you? This is the staff restroom.” He enunciates every single word as if I’m a kindergartner, it makes me freeze for a second.

I struggle to stop myself from reacting thoughtlessly, not knowing if I should be crying or laughing.

My hand reaches for my staff badge hanging from my neck, waving it in front of his face.

“Do I look like a girlfriend?” I ask, dropping my badge and stepping out before he can apologize.

Asshole, losing doesn’t give you the right to be so damn rude.

How could I even get rid of these stupid fucking rumors?

“Okay, smile!” I exclaim, holding Luis’s camera up to take a photo of the squad. With the happiness of winning an El Classico and the celebration of Luca's milestone came a lot of excitement and enthusiasm.

I hold back a chuckle at the sight of Aurélien laying on the floor, instructing some of them to move a bit for a better shot.

We take multiple photos together, staff members taking photos with the squad while I force them to stand in front of the camera.

“y/n, come here, and we’ll take a picture!” Antonio urges, snatching the camera off of me and pushing me to stand in front of the camera.

I feel myself being pushed, until I find myself almost pressing into Jude’s side.

I curse to myself, forcing an awkward smile as I pose next to everyone.

“What? Surely, you don’t think I bite?” Jude whispers, his arm dropping to his side.

“Please, shut up and pose. We still have that interview, so don’t start now..” I mutter between a clenched smile, pretending I’m not fazed.

I hear a soft chuckle, a mocking and breathy ‘sure’ leaving his mouth.

It gives me shivers down my spine, and I fight the urge to step on his shoe, focusing on posing instead.

This will be a long, long interview..

“You should’ve told me you’re leaving.” I mumble, mouth full of cereal and milk.

“Sorry, been so busy, didn’t even come to mind.” My dad says, walking around the house as he gets ready for work.

“Where is that blue tie I just got?” He shouts from his room.

“I ironed it! It’s in the bottom drawer!” I shout, scrolling through my messages.

“Got it!”

I hum, chugging the leftover milk in my bowl before standing up from the dining table.

“When are you going? Will you be gone for long?” I ask, watching him put the tie on in his bedroom.

“This weekend. It’s a crucial case, so I’ll be back when it’s totally over. Don’t get up to mischief. I know how you get when you’re home alone.” He points, giving me a stern look.

“Yeah, sure, I will plan a house party or two..” I joke, but it doesn’t land as he continues staring me down.

“Okay! I will be a responsible adult and call you or auntie Carmen when something happens..”

“Good, I’m leaving to get to work. Will you be back on time for dinner?” He says, grabbing his paperwork and laptop bag.

“Yeah, can we order in tonight?” I give him a pleading look, walking him out.

“You know I can’t deny my daughter happiness in the form of burgers and fries...”

[fatuismooches]

I've written a few pieces about Dottore with a fragile! reader which you can see here, here, and here. I wanted to expand on this concept a bit because the brainrot is real.

You befriended Dottore at the Akademiya (I think the same reader from this piece too) and life was good. Those 20-page papers were a pain but dorming with your lover made it all better.

Until you begin to feel a bit off. Headaches become more frequent, and you start to feel a bit more dizzy than usual, but you chalk it up to just stress. Being a scholar is no easy task, after all. At first, Dottore seems to believe this as well too. (He has forced you to down the most disgusting medicine to make you feel better after all.)

Only this time, the medicine seems to have no effect. All you can hear during the lectures is the pounding of your head and ringing of your ears. After classes, the only thing you can manage to do is flop down onto your bed while you listen to Dottore fiddle with some parts. He doesn’t let you leave until you feel better. It may be some kind of new bug going around, he hypothesizes.

Even after a while, you don’t feel better. It feels like your whole body aches if you even move a muscle. The food tastes like nothing and you struggle to hold your hand still to even write a sentence. The worst part is that you can’t hide your predicament from your lover. You two literally live together in the Akademiya after all. The only thing that baffles your lover, is that he can’t seem to understand your sudden condition. He makes you stay in the room and forbids you from doing anything extraneous. 

The only problem is, you have missed dozens of classes already. And whenever you go, the professor always ends up calling you out in front of the whole class for your dropping eyelids. The less-than-polite words of your fellow scholars ring in your ears.

So it doesn’t come as a surprise to you when the higher-ups tell you that they’re kicking you out of the school. If only the Akademiya actually cared about their students. You’re very, very, very tired on the way back from the office, holding onto the walls for support. As much as you want to stay with Dot, since you were kicked out, you can’t live in the dorms anymore. You feel far too ill to live by yourself much less get a job, so your only choice is the local hospital.

Perhaps this is where the more… illegal activities begin. Hospital fees are no joke, you know. Someone had to pay to keep you there, and neither you nor Dottore had that kind of money. So really, no one would notice if a few people started disappearing, right? Dottore’s always wanted to dissect a human body. It would be quite educational as well as worth the money. And the classmates who made fun of you? They’d meet a similar fate.

But the doctors there aren’t much help either. So you just spend your days either by yourself, maybe passing the time with a book he lent you, or with Dottore whenever he visits. Runs tests on you without the staff knowing because there’s no way he’s trusting them, but it was to no avail. You let Zandik do what he wants because it was hard for you to care much anymore.

Also - you bawling your eyes out about how miserable you feel because of this stupid sickness. It ruined your life. You can’t do anything by yourself anymore. Your smile is virtually gone. What if he leaves you, you cry. You’re useless to him. It’s at this point, that Dottore swears that he would cure whatever illness you were afflicted with. No matter the process or the atrocities that he would need to commit. No matter who gets hurt. No matter the insults that get hurled at him. He would see to it that you were back on your two feet, cooking, fighting, studying, whatever you wanted.

Also - Dottore bringing you to Snezhnaya after Pierro recruits him. Only thing is that you’re in a coma at this point so you don’t wake up until a few years later. Waking up to the sight of three other Dottores’ in the room almost shocked you back to sleep. At this point with all the fancy technology and funds he has, your health has been better than your school days.

Also - the clones kind of being in awe of you. All they’ve seen of you is your sleeping form. Only Prime actually knew you. So that’s why you always have at least one of them following you around wherever you go. Prime is amused at this. Okay, and remember when the Omega Dot said that he was the most selfish clone of them all?? Him hogging you from the other clones. Nah because I don’t think he likes the other clones very much. Wants to keep you to himself so the clones absolutely dread whenever Prime leaves them alone. He hates when you ask the other clones for things. Smirk drops rather quickly.

[jennay]

I'm Fine

Request: Hello sweet bean! I'm a relatively new fan of yours and have loved everything you've written about Noah thus far. The last one I read had me thinking of a request? I was wondering what Noah would do if he found out his girlfriend was having an overwhelming day and wanted to cheer her up? Like, there was a mountain of small inconveniences that kept piling up and she was shutting down from her own anxiety

An: Thank you for calling me sweet bean. It's literally my new favorite thing to be called. I hope you enjoy! I tried!

Noah Sebastian master List

Warnings: floof anxiety?

You woke up from a nightmare that doomed your day. Fear and panic gripped your heart. Things went downhill when you found out your alarm had failed, forcing you to hurry to work; your coffee maker had malfunctioned, depriving you of your caffeine boost; and Noah had snatched the last of your favorite breakfast bars last night without letting you know.

You hoped things would improve as you finally got your car to start after several attempts. But you were mistaken.

You got to work and nearly died from a heart attack when you saw the pile of documents and the list of appointments that awaited you. You felt overwhelmed by the work your secretary assigned you as if you were a superhuman lawyer who could handle everything simultaneously.

You wished you could walk away from it all but knew that was not an option. Being a lawyer was already stressful and demanding, and dealing with this extra workload was not making it any easier.

You needed to talk with Amanda, your secretary, and see if some of these could be moved around.

You walk into her office and greet her with a smile; you don't want to be mean or upset her. "Hey," You say, sitting at the chair by her desk. "So I need a favor." You lean over and point to the screen. "Can you please call these two clients and ask if they can come in tomorrow? I have the Taylors coming in at 9 a.m., and the meeting always runs over the scheduled time. If you can start booking them out for at least two hours, that would be amazing."

She nods her head, apologizing, "I'm sorry. I know you've said that before. I'll write it down."

"That's alright, don't worry about it. I just need at least an hour between each meeting so that I can be ready and not rush things, but the Taylors are always here for a long time; they're very thorough and want to know everything that's going on.." You sighed and rubbed your temples. "I'll be in my office if you need me. Please let me know if anything comes up."

You sit at your desk, reviewing papers and bracing yourself for the chaos people will bring you today.

Sometimes, it takes a toll on you, especially when your life is not going smoothly. You glance at the clock and see you have a few minutes before your clients arrive. You decide to text Noah, who always knows how to cheer you up.

Can I come home already? I miss you and could use some aggressive snuggles right now. This day has been shit already.

You smile when he texts you back almost immediately. You know he is an early riser, but you are still impressed by how fast he replies. He must have sensed your urgency.

I'll be here when you get home, baby. You can have all the cuddles you want. I love you. You're a badass; you'll kick the shit out of the day. Ok?

You feel thankful for Noah. He is the best thing that's happened to you. He’s supportive, caring, funny, sexy, and makes you feel loved and appreciated.

On days like this, you wish you could shrink him to a smaller size, put him in your pocket, and carry him around. Whenever you needed him, he would pop out and say words of encouragement and sweet things to you. Your life would be so much easier with a pocket-sized Noah.

You put your phone in the drawer as your office door opens, and Amanda's head pokes through the gap. She is your receptionist and assistant, and she helps you manage your schedule and appointments.

"Your 9 o'clock is here," she says.

You nod your head, "Go ahead and send them in."

You take a deep breath and prepare yourself for another session. You hope Noah's words will give you the strength and patience to get through the day.

You storm into the house, slamming the door behind you. You are overwhelmed by emotions. Your hair is soaked from the rain, and your mascara runs down your cheeks. You have had the worst day ever, and all you want is Noah's warm embrace and gentle words. "Noah, are you home?" You call out, your voice cracking.

You hear him reply from the living room. "Yeah, I'm here. Did you take a cab home?"

You can't contain your feelings any longer. You let out a loud sob, toss your bags aside, and hide your face in your hands, crying hysterically.

"Oh, babe," Noah says, getting up and hurrying to you. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close to his chest, where you press your face and cry even harder.

He kisses your hair and strokes your back gently. "Shh, it's ok." He whispers. "I'm here for you."

You shake your head. "I'm over it. Can you just put me out of my misery and put a pillow over my head?"

He chuckles softly, "No, no, no. Come on. I have something for you." He holds your hand and leads you to the dining room, where you see a beautiful bouquet of roses in a vase on the table. He has also ordered Chinese food, your favorite cuisine. You notice your favorite liquor on the counter with other ingredients, indicating that Noah plans to make cocktails for you tonight.

As you gasp, your hands instinctively cover your mouth. Noah's thoughtfulness never ceases to amaze you.

You wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle your face into his chest, feeling his warmth and comfort. "Thank you," you whisper.

Noah kisses the top of your head and rubs your back gently. "Anything for you, princess." He pulls away, and you look up at him, seeing love and kindness in his eyes. "I'm sorry you had such a tough day," he says, kissing your forehead. "Go relax. I'll take care of everything." He pauses briefly, "You're getting a nice back rub tonight, too." He says, holding his hands up and wiggling his fingers.

You smile, walking back to your room and changing into the bathroom, where you wash your face to remove all the smeared makeup.

Sometimes, you wondered how Noah could look at you so lovingly when you look as rough as you did.

After changing, you return to the dining room, where Noah waits patiently. He smiles at you, happy to see you approach. He stands up and scoots out your chair. "Come sit."

You smile at the gesture, excited for the food and fruity mixed drink in front of you. "God, I love you," you say, taking a long sip of your beverage.

Noah laughs, "Me or the drink?"

You lift your eyes to his, "Both, but mostly you."

He chuckles while taking a bite of his food. "So," he says, putting his fork down, "What happened today?"

Your shoulders drop, remembering the annoyance of the day you didn't

want to talk about every little thing, from the coffee pot to your clients not being very understanding and your car breaking down. "Just casual bullshit." You sip your drink, "My car is in the parking lot at work…"

Noah groans, "Again? I thought Folio looked at it?"

"He did, but he's not a miracle worker, and I'm honestly not sure there's any hope for that thing. It's old." You say, forcing a smile. "Let's talk about you."

Noah's eyebrows knit together in frustration as he says, "You always do this." He laughs, but you can hear the edge in his voice. He leans back in his chair and looks at you pleadingly. "I want to hear about your day; in therapy, they say it's good to talk about things. It helps you process and cope with them." He reaches for your hand across the table, his eyes softening.

You shake your head, feeling affection for him. You stand up and gather the empty plates, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, my love, you're not my therapist." You lean down and kiss his cheek, feeling his stubble against your lips. "We can talk about it tomorrow if you want to. But right now I just want you as Noah. Ok?" You giggle as you walk away from him, carrying the dishes to the sink. You drop them in, deciding to deal with them later. You can feel the effects of the alcohol you had with dinner. Your face is warm, and your worries seem distant and trivial. You feel happy and relaxed as you walk back to Noah.

You stand before him, smiling with rosy cheeks and a gentle gaze. "I really do appreciate you." You say sincerely, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He grins and stands up, holding you close. He takes your hand and leads you to the living room, where he sits on the couch and pulls you down to sit before him. He gently lifts your shirt over your head and tosses it aside, handing you the throw blanket to cover your chest with, knowing you'd get cold. He places his hands on your back and starts to massage your tense muscles with gentle pressure. He draws circles on your skin with his fingers, making you sigh in contentment.

You feel a knot of tension in your chest and decide to share what's been bothering you the most today. "The Taylors said I'm a bad lawyer and won't be using me anymore." You say, finally opening up to him. "They accused me of being incompetent and unprofessional just because I refused to lie for them in court."

Noah's hands freeze for a second, and he curses under his breath. "Dicks." He says before resuming his soothing motions. "You don't need them anyway. You did the right thing, babe. You have integrity and ethics, unlike them."

You let out a deep breath, feeling a bit of relief from his words and touch. "I do, though. I've been working with them for so long, and I hate saying this because I'm not just in it for the money, but they were a huge source of my income. They paid me well, and they had a lot of connections in the industry."

Noah wraps his arms around you and pulls at you, signaling he wants you in his lap. "There'll be others, you don't need people who treat you like shit." He says softly in your ear. "You're an amazing lawyer, and you have a great reputation. You'll find better clients who appreciate you and respect you."

You smile weakly and lean your head on his chest. "That's most of my clientele." You say with a laugh. "Most of them are greedy, selfish, and dishonest. That's why I'm always so thankful to come home to you. You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

Noah kisses the top of your head and whispers, "I love you and I'm always here for you. No matter what."

You smile up at him, feeling his warm breath on your face as you nuzzle close to his neck. He wraps the blanket tighter around your bare chest, making you feel safe and loved. "I know. I feel it, and I'm grateful for it." You whisper, letting him know you appreciate his presence in your life.

He leans his head on yours, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. He kisses your hair softly, making you sigh in contentment. "We'll get everything figured out with your car and your job, and I won't eat your breakfast bars anymore." He chuckles, trying to lighten the mood.

You laugh against his neck, feeling his pulse quicken under your lips. "You can eat all the breakfast bars you want if my nights end this perfectly." You say, looking into his eyes and seeing the love and happiness reflected there.

He smiles back at you, pulling you closer for a passionate kiss.

You melt into him, forgetting about all your worries and troubles. All that matters is him and this moment.

You feel his hand caress your cheek, then move down to your waist. He lifts you gently, carrying you to the bedroom. You wrap your legs around him, holding him tight.

He whispers in your ear, "I love you so fucking much."

You smile, feeling the same way. You kiss him again, ready to show him how much you love him.

Tags: @thisbicc @yumikitten @lma1986 @chemicallady

[chronically-ghosted]

the only thing we have to fuck is fear itself

rating: 18+

pairing: max phillips x f!reader

word count: 5309

summary: You get drunk at a happy hour and tell Max to his face you don’t find him scary at all. He takes that personally.

warnings/tags: drinking, like two seconds of scary vibes, smut, (secret) established relationship, work hard, play hard, have secret sex with your coworker even harder

a/n: I’m so sorry to FDR for butchering his quote for the sake of a title, but i like to think that horny bastard would have loved my smut.

🤍AO3 Link 🤍 Masterlist 🤍 Get notified when I post new works!

Despite working at a place that was quite literally soul-sucking, your coworkers could throw one hell of a happy-hour. 

There wasn’t a bartender in a ten mile radius from the office who didn’t know you all by name, didn’t shout a greeting over the tightly-packed house the instant you walked in. Rarely was it just a single crew member at the bars – you often got accused of moving in a pack like a five-headed hydra that could drink double its own weight in liquor, beer, and frosés – and being only two-fifths human, the Monster Squad was an alcoholic force to be reckoned with.

Maybe because you actively promoted unity amongst the species, like poster children for positive and “non-toxic human-demon relationships” HR kept encouraging in their Monday-Funday email blasts, but your little group was something of a legend in the area. You thought any notoriety was more likely due more to your faces plastered all over the bars’ trivia night winner boards, but in the office, people tended to stare. Trish, a siren from Santa Barbara, loved the attention, said it was good for her skin – gave her a “dewy” look. Nita, the only other human in your group besides you, disagreed with Ken (a quarter leprechaun on his mother’s side) when Ken claimed the whispering came from the sheer volume of nonsense that started around 4PM in the office on Fridays and continued until you all left the office. Ken was of the belief that the notoriety was actually infamy – to which he was promptly booed and had to buy the next round. 

And yet, to yourself, to the quiet conversations you had in the bathroom mirror after two long island ice teas and whatever was in what the centaur bartender at Lucky’s called an “Ass Whooping”, you suspected there might be another reason the Monster Squad even had a name at all. Within your own fields, each of you were respectable – Ken and Trish were both heads of marketing and Nita oversaw a considerable team of engineers, with you of course a department leader over in legal – one member of your group was, let’s say, more well-known. 

Well-known because he was the flashiest, the loudest, and certainly the most demonic of you all: Max Phillips, VP of sales, money-maker extraordinaire, and a fan-favorite amongst your Overlords, the rest of the sales team, and anyone with working and interested sex organs in the near vicinity. 

To your complete and utter annoyance.

You don’t quite remember how you all came together, who brought who into the group, and when it was unanimously decided that you’d stop snatching up office workers like limes at $5 margarita night after Trish, but it was Max who kept you together, who set up the group chat (somehow mysteriously gathering all of your phone numbers after a very late night), who bullied anyone who responded to his weekly “winner winner liquid dinner” texts every Friday morning with a tepid maybe into coming out that night. He already seemed to know half of the bartenders in the city, all of whom were happy to send over a free round of tequila shots as a “thank you to Max’s friends”. While you’d never look a gift vampire in the mouth, you were suspicious of his influence. Was that vampire hypnosis real? Did he have a pack of lesser, baby vamps to send out to tenderize the hunting grounds?

One thing’s for sure, he definitely didn’t scare them into it. 

“Has Halloween, like, changed for anyone else?” Nita grouched over her second Sangria Spritzer two hours into another fantabulous happy hour at Heel Clicks. The four of you were huddled into your comically small booth up on the landing near the back bar – of course there were other seats available but this had the best view, the closest access to your favorite bartender, and at some point, the shoulder-to-shoulder proximity served as a way to counteract the tipsy swaying. 

Trish leaned around Ken, her beautiful blue eyes sparkling with curiosity. 

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno,” Nita shrugged hopelessly. “It used to be one of my favorite holidays when I was a kid. I loved the candy, the costumes – all of it. But I really liked being scared the most.”

Ken sorted into his old-fashioned. “Well, if you’re still scared of things you were as a kid, Nit, I think you’ve got a bigger problem than seasonal preference.”

She elbows him and he knocks into Trish.

“Not like that . . . but, like, monster movies aren’t really scary anymore? I mean, I used to watch Ginger Snaps religiously around Halloween, but, uh, now that I know an actual werewolf and he’s the nicest little old man in accounting, I dunno . . . it’s just not the same.” 

“Sorry to burst your bubble on monsters,” Ken shrugged. “But I personally cannot relate. As a member of the Free Folk, my people have always been welcomed, seen as bringers of good will towards man.”

“You know there’s eight movies where a leprechaun murders literally dozens of teenagers, right?” You turned to Ken over Nita, your entire right buttcheek hanging off the edge of the booth. 

“Oh, yeah, baby Jennifer Aniston,” Trish mused, thinking. “If that’s what your uncle looks like, Ken, then I posit Halloween is still fucking creepy.”

“Halloween is definitely creepy and it sucks.” Your ringleader has returned with electric-green jello shots. Max Phillips carried a tray with one hand, his immaculate blue jacket gone to display firm forearms underneath his white, rolled-back sleeves. “Bunch up, kiddies, Daddy’s back with treats.” 

Half the group groaned, the other squealed in delight.

Max hip-bumped you, his ravenous cologne immediately making you think unwise thoughts, as he pushed his way onto the bench absolutely not made for this many people. He looked back at you as he passed out the drinks.

“Now why are we all in agreement that Halloween is a lame holiday?” 

“Nita claims that because she personally knows a werewolf – Ned, right? – she’s not scared of monster movies anymore.”

Max scoffed. “Well, there’s your problem right there. Werewolves were never scary to begin with.”

“What monster movies have you been watching?” Nita gaped at him. “Maybe it’s bad representation, but all the movie werewolves can tear you to shreds!”

Ken nodded solemnly. “This is why affirmative action is so important.” 

Trish smacked him over the back of the head. 

“So, what?” Max continued, crunching up the jello in its plastic cup. “Now that you know me, a vampire, you think all Dracula movies give blood-suckers a bad rap?”

“No, being a human-sized mosquito with too much hair gel is doing that all on its own.” You smirked, dead-eyed, at him. Behind you, Ken and Trish snorted so hard they almost spilled their drinks. 

Max narrowed his eyes at you, in a look he only gave you when you wouldn’t let him ease around legal loopholes “for the good of the business”. Only Nita seemed to be oblivious. 

“That’s a good point, Max.” She thoughtfully stirred her jello with her pinky, unsticking it from the sides of her cup. “I mean, I guess I never watched that many vampire movies to begin with.”

Max broke his heated staring contest with you to look around at Nita, elbow pressing up into your chest as he leaned forward on the table. “I can promise you, doll face, vampires have been and always will be more terrifying and lethal than werewolves.”

“Not the argument I think you want to make, mate,” Ken murmured as you shifted yourself to face Max entirely. 

“Oh, yeah? Enlighten us all –,”

“Nope,” Trish called down the row, “we’re taking this shot before you two get into it again.”

“To Ned!” Ken yelled. 

“To Ned!” 

Plastic crunched, tongues slurped, as jello ungracefully slipped into every open mouth down the bench. You licked your lip, tip of your tongue green. Max watched the movement out of the corner of his eye. 

“So, enlighten us, Max, why should we be so afraid of you?” 

Max grinned out the side of his mouth. “One, I’ve seen more bite out of a pomeranian than one of those Tribbles. And two, whatever-wolves can only get it up once a month. I’m all monster, all the time, baby.”

At this, everyone groaned.

“Dollar to the Dick Jar!” Trish smacked her hand on the table.

“Here, here!”

Max pouted as he took a dollar out of his wallet and slammed it into the center of the table, payment towards tips or the bill or whoever suffered the most due to The Dick. 

“Face it, buzz,” you shrugged as he put his wallet away. “You’re just not scary any more, if you ever were.”

“Is that right?” 

Fuck, you were in a lot of trouble. Beneath the table, his thigh soaked yours in heat. 

“That’s right.”

“You know what is really scary?” Ken muttered, digging around in his crushed up for the last remnants of jello. “Kelpies.”

“Ah – yes! They’ve got sloppy fangs covered in algae!”

“Hey – that’s my cousin you’re talking about!”

Heel Clicks was hands down one of your favorite bars in the area. Devoted to the local music scene in the area, the vibe was a mix of old 70s rock bands, modern steel, and whatever justified lots of mounted horns and hairy cow-skin stools. The drinks were great, seasonal too, and there was always live music on the patio out back. In a twist that you found particularly cool, the old rum-runners tunnels had been converted to comfortably spacious bathrooms in the basement. Behind the solid oak door, the noises from the above bar are nearly entirely muffled, making the slow descent to the bathroom something of an out-of-body experience when you’ve had a few and the sudden silence is almost an echo. 

Plus, these fucking stairs are a death trap. 

You embarrassingly clutched at the railing, the wooden stairs at far too sharp an angle even if you were sober as a judge, much less at a Monster Squad happy hour. 

Stupid Max and his stupid drinks and his –

What was that?

You stand up right on the third to last step, listening. 

In the half darkness in front of you, there are three paths available. To the left, employee storage, the lights above the door flickering, the sign reading “do not enter” pulsating in and out of visibility. To your right, another door, maybe an exit. Always unmarked and always locked every time your drunken curiosity got the better of you. 

And across from the stairs were the bathrooms, left women, right for men.

God, what year is it? Shouldn’t it all just be gender-neutral? You think to yourself, a tad bit more aggressive than you’d usually oppose the gender binary – primarily to wash out the rising concern at the back of your neck.

You are alone down here. It’s obvious. It’s not like there’s that many places for some dastardly villain to hide. Four shut doors and three hallways. Unless some maniac was curled up under the stairs, you are the only person in the basement. 

At least, the only person you can see. 

You don’t realize how sweaty your hands are until you try to continue your way down the stairs. You take a step and nearly slip, the eyes you know are on you somehow laughing. 

One blinking light. No where for anything to hide, so why are you so nervous? You are an adult woman, for god’s sakes. You make it to the floor, the most likely candidate for your demise behind you and –

The stairs creaked. 

The empty stairs that you just walked down creaked and you nearly leap across the hallway to put space between you. Heart in your throat, you make the monumentally stupid decision and call out, “hello? Is anyone there?”

As if the serial killer was just going to announce himself, give up the whole element of surprise.

Blinking through the bleary haze of too many drinks, you take out your phone and flip on the light. A white beam chases back the encroaching darkness, a frantic worried ghost peering through the gloom. And yet, like you consciously know, there’s nothing there. But the darkness feels heavier, the eerie distant noise from the bar above so quiet and removed the sound is more of a memory – the idea of what comfort and community should sound like. But it’s not. It’s too far gone – if anything were to happen, it’d be hours before they found you. If they did at all. 

“Oh my god,” you scold yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. “Get a fucking grip and go pee and then go back up those fucking stairs and –,”

Okay, that was definitely breathing.

Breathing, right behind you. Ragged, hungry, disembodied breathing, in your ear and your heart ricochets into your chest. Your own breath turns short, choppy, panic swelling into your ears, over your fingers. You think you might drop your phone, your fingers are so numb from fear, so you clutch tighter, the trembling throwing white light across the paneled wood in a craze. 

Be rational, this is crazy, there is nothing down here! 

The stairs snarl again and you squeak, all but bolting for the women’s bathroom, desperate to put at least some space between you and those fucking stairs, put some boundaries between –

The door is locked. When the fuck is this door ever locked?

Panic recedes to overwhelming rage because fuck, fuck, fuck, now you’re trapped in here – you can’t go back to the stairs – you rattle the handle, shaking the door against its lock –

“Fucking let me in!”

The light above the exit door goes out. And then the other. You throw all of your weight against the bathroom door. You claw at the handle, begging it to give way. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck – you can hear the darkness breathing –

No, speaking – it’s saying something, chanting, mocking, calling out – calling out your name –

The door suddenly unlocks and you stumble forward – into something solid –

Its hands grab you and like a fucking fool, you played right into its trap. 

It turns you, throws you up against the tile wall, its claws around your shoulders, cold tile against your cheek and you whimper. Whimper when you feel the soft pin-prick of fangs against the back of your neck – fuck, this is how it ends?? – and –

“Got you.” 

That voice.

That condescending, snide, bratty, little –

You elbow the solid body behind you and Max lets out a puff of air, staggering back. You whip around, nearly snarling in his smirking, beautiful face. The bathroom is dark, black tiled walls and floors with a faux-wooden sink and dim lights across the top of the mirror. In the flushed orange light, his eyelashes encourage thick shadows under his eyes and in the collar of his throat. If it wasn’t for that insufferable smile, he’d look painted from thin brush strokes and heavy scarlet paint. 

Caravaggio, eat your heart out. 

“Max, what the fuck was that?” 

He rolls his eyes, rubbing the spot on his chest where you hit him, at the top of his ribcage. “Oh, c’mon, it was just some fun. Saw you sneak off after you got Nita’s drink and thought I’d mess with you just a bit.”

You sigh, willing your heart to slow down, throwing your gaze to the ceiling and dropping your head against the tile.

“God, you asshole, I thought I was gonna die.” You swallow and move your hair out of your face. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I what?”

“You scared –,”

That smile, the crack of fangs across his mouth, widens, the bottom of his lip rolling back over the cut of his teeth, those brown eyes melting into a warm, obscene black, as he meets you hip first against the wall. 

His hands climb over your waist, as though daring you to hit him again, and your thigh muscles tighten. Your hands instinctively trace the exposed skin left by his opened collar at the dip of his throat when he comes closer, chest pressing up against yours, nose against your temple. 

Fuck, it shouldn’t be this easy for him. You sigh through your nose, eyes rolling shut, when he nips at your cheek.

“I think you were supposed to be mad at me.”

“I am,” you groan. “I’m livid. I’m enraged. I’m –,”

His thumb brushes your ribs – not tickling, not entirely touching, but just reminding. Reminding of the force behind his touch, behind his teeth. 

“Baby girl,” he chuckles softly, the sound running down your neck like rain, “you’re melting in my arms.” 

“This doesn’t mean I’m scared of you.” You focus on the softness of his hair between your fingers, the heat of the back of his neck beneath the pads of your fingertips – resolutely ignoring the radiating scent of his cologne coming from up under his collar. More than once had he come across you in his apartment bathroom, sniffing that bottle like some dopey perv looking for a quick fix. Of course, instead of admonishing you, he bent you over his sink and fucked the daylights out of you, his wrists singing with the smell of that cologne. Now he wore it to work wherever he wanted something from you, particularly to overlook some pesky lines of legalise. 

In the hallowed darkness of the bar’s bathroom, he drops a single kiss just below your jaw, inches beneath your ear. He grumbles when your pulse there quickens, and again his fangs find a curve of skin to press against – a reminder. 

Always reminding, always lurking, a threat without a promise.

And he knows exactly what that does to you. 

You release a full body shudder when his hands drop lower, guiding you back against the wall, fingers rounding around your thighs. Like interlocking pieces, your bodies slide together, your arms curling around his neck, the heat of his chest branding yours as it forces you against the wall. You’re breathing all wrong again, but for different reasons this time. You catch a flash of the ink-well darkness of his eyes when he nuzzles out of your neck to admire the mess he has made of your skirt.

“Can I fuck you in this or is this thing too tight?” He asks, like he specifically didn’t get on his hands and knees and beg you to wear that gray pencil skirt only twelve hours earlier. 

You lean up, snagging his bottom lip between your teeth, kissing him roughly and showing him he’s not the only one with a little bite. He groans softly, one hand curling into your hair at the base of your skull, and he licks you, from the front of your lips up to the valley of your mouth. He tastes like the sweetness of his whiskey n’ coke, his tongue rubbing the flexing muscle of yours, the sharpness of your molars. You could spend hours just sucking on his plush mouth. 

Maybe he did scare you. Maybe he should have scared you more, the threat of anyone discovering your relationship a real danger to both of your careers. Maybe it should have scared you, how little you cared about any of that when he palmed your breast over your shirt. 

You inhaled over his mouth, popping off his lips with a moan, his hand cupping you roughly as he dove in to suck marks on your neck. Every moment that passes, you feel your skin ratcheting up with heat, blood almost hot. He thumbs your perk nipple through your shirt and you arch your chest, his massive palm nearly cupping your ribs to your spine.

“Max, either you figure out how to fuck me in this skirt or you owe me a new one.”

“You want me to rip it off you?” He slurs, eyelids heavy, his thigh slides in between your knees, the fabric preventing him from going higher, to the place where you both need him. You groan in frustration and his hands squeeze your hips at the sound. “Tell me fast, baby, because I can’t–,”

“For the love of – just fucking lift it up–,” His hands fumble over yours as your fingers curl under the hem, his own want making that brilliant mind for numbers almost stupid. His warm fingers overwhelm your own as they push your skirt up your waist, and then dig around the line of your pantyhose. 

“Jesus Christ, are you trying to Fort Knox me out of your pussy? Why are there so many layers?” 

You hiss at him as you slide out of your heels and shove your nylons to the ground, hopping on one leg to take them off your feet. “It’s like you’ve never undressed me before.” 

Freed of the chaos of your underthings, Max’s hands rush to his belt, the clinking of the metal sending shivers down your back and straight up your cunt. He doesn’t notice because he’s obsessively watching your thighs. “I’ve never undressed you with our coworkers a floor above us and probably becoming increasingly suspicious about where the fuck we are–,” 

You take him by the back of the neck, hand clenching around the starch white of his shoulder. He comes to you, zipper digging into your hip bone as he pulls you up off your feet. For once that chatty mouth is quiet, open and wet with desire as he takes in your flushed face, the blood pumping under your tits. Max is nothing if not almost supernaturally consumed by the look, feel, texture, and taste of your tits. 

The look on his face is one of those reasons you tend to throw caution to the wind, why your heart almost feels too big for your chest, whenever he’s around. 

He hooks an arm around your low back, tilting your hips forward. You feel the heat of his cock somewhere below you and it takes all of your strength not to grind down. 

“Max –,” he’s not even inside of you and you’re already begging. You bite down on his ear to stifle whatever was rising up your throat. 

“Hang on, baby, I gotta make sure you . . .”

Using your shoulders as counterbalance, he holds himself up against the wet warmth of your cunt, breath stuttering as he rubs the head of his cock against your slick folds. That bratty aloofness is gone; he wants to sink so, so deep into you.

“Fuck, baby, I didn’t even get you ready – but you’re already so wet –,”

You don’t resist grinding down now and he knocks his shoulders forward, needing movement, but fighting against the urge to buck up into you, gasping from the feeling of your cunt. 

“Please, Max, just –,”

“Yeah, I know, baby, okay, just, I gotta . . .” 

He angles himself and you arch your back, unable to watch with the mess of your skirt around your waist, but he finds it, finds your opening, the place he loves to mark, and without any warning, thrusts his length up into you. 

The stretch, the surprise, the ear-ringing split between being empty and then stuffed so full – you can’t help but moan so loudly, you sing to the ceiling. For a moment, your bodies hum with the stillness, the blood in your cunt pulsating around him, you claw at his broad shoulders, need him closer, needing that smell of him that haunts your empty bed as far inside of you as his cock is. His hips stutter and he presses one hand against the tile by your ribs, teeth clenched against the sensation. 

“When I fuck you, every time feels like the first time. Every goddamn time.” 

It’s not particularly the confession it could be, but you shake your head, clearing it of anything stupid like feelings for Max Phillips, your chin brushing his jaw, his nose against your ear. 

“Then do it,” you whine. “Just fuck me, Max.”

With a groan that could be mistaken for a snarl, he lifts you both up right, pushing your hips down and spreading yourself over him. You lock your ankles around his back a second before he pulls out halfway, then to jerk back in with such force and precision your eyes roll to the back of your head. He sets a pace that has pleasure weaving a tight drum just under your stomach. Each sweaty thrust fires sparks up your spine. He really is so fucking good at this. 

This is the release you need, you both need. Sure, it’s an after-effect of having a high-powered job, but it’s also more than that. Max fucking you is unfortunately very often the highlight of your day. He knows what you need, how you need it – how hard to drive his cock into you, it makes you tongue-tied and dizzy. The fast pump of his cock, how it feels to split you apart over and over again, the back zipper of your skirt digging into your back – it’s too fucking good.

“Don’t know where you get off giving me orders,” he grunts, the pounding of his hips into yours rapidly shoving you up your ascension. The slapping, wet noise in the empty room is obscene. “I’m a fucking VP, little girl, and I–,”

You tense your muscles around his cock and he fumbles, his knees buckling momentarily. 

“Do not fucking bring up the org chart right now,” you hiss, your own edge yanked away when he stills. “I’m almost there–,” 

Quicker than he’s been all night, Max lunges forward, mouth open and teeth bare. He bites your neck and then he bites you. 

Fangs puncture your skin, not deep, but enough that your body is thrown into a messy coil of nerves and adrenaline. It knows you could die like this, even if you’ve only ever called the vampire a mosquito to his face, and triggering a self-preservation instinct, your body trembles from the sudden blast of sensation.

Your pupils dilate further than they were, your skin becomes overly aware of every drop of sweat, every flutter of hair, every rub of flesh – and your fucking nerve-endings feel like static, as if brushed by lightning. 

Pleasure so-white hot it almost burns roars up your spine, slick coating his cock inside you, and you cry out. Wail in his ear. Begging him to make it better. To give you your release. The feel of his cock pounding up inside your now-overly ripe cunt brings tears to your eyes.

“Oh, fuck – fuck, fuck, fuck – Max, p-please –,”

“Can you handle it if I touch you?”

You shake your head. “Yes, yes, please, touch me.” 

“You can’t keep screaming like that,” he scolds you breathlessly, the punch of his hips bouncing you against his cheek. For all his vampire stamina, the flush of exertion across his cheeks is truly staggering and a triumph for your ego. Flecks of blood dot his mouth. “Someone’s going to come looking.” 

“I don’t care,” you groan, angling your hips to take more of him. His hand not on your back cups under your knee, tugging it higher up his torso. His pace is relentless, overwhelming – with his weight on top of you, and his cock up under you, inside you, you’re consumed by Max Phillips. “Whatever you do, d-don’t stop. Don’t stop.” 

“You scared I’m gonna?”

“Yes,” you whine. You can feel your heart pounding out its shape into your ribs. 

“Good girl. And good girls get to fucking come.”

Balancing your increasingly limp body, he holds you up right, his hand snaking beneath your skirt, between the sweat of your thighs and his torso, and –

He thumbs that buzzing bundle of nerves, “come for me, baby”, and you do. You come screaming, the tension snapping, vision sparkling with stars, and you are shoved over the edge. You don’t know you’re wailing his name until he comes too, all concern for getting caught seemingly gone as he begs you to continue as he fills you up with his pearly, gooey cum:

“That’s right, say my name. Say my fucking name, sweetheart.” 

His hips thrust weakly, some instinct choking him until he makes sure every drop of him stays in you. You’re going to be dripping for hours. 

His skin is fire-hot beneath his starched white shirt. You’ll be thinking about that for days afterward when you see him in the hallways of the office. 

This is what scares you the most. When you realize it's over and neither one of you want it to be. 

Shaking from exertion, Max slowly sets you down, unwinding your legs from his waist, your ankles trembling against the cold tile. You couldn’t imagine putting your nylons back on, the thought of that pressure against the curve of your lower stomach while you are so full of his cum practically unbearable. 

He lifts his head from your neck, eyes intentionally avoiding you as he inspects where he bit you, breath coming in ragged, long gasps. Sweat darkens the hair at his temple and that post-fuck blush is staggeringly gorgeous on him. He pricks his thumb on the sharp edge of his fangs and with a scarlet bead balanced on his thumb, he smears his blood against the puncture wounds, like someone would wipe dirt away from a loved one’s skin. 

It doesn’t really hurt, but the effects leave your neck tingling. You’d never say this out loud, but you fucking loved when he did that. 

He steps away without looking at you, giving you time to adjust your skirt, your hair in the mirror. You help him straighten his collar because it’s not like he can use the mirror to check himself.

He grins, the flush fading far too rapidly from his cheeks. 

“What are you going to tell them?” You nod to the stairs on the other side of the wall. “This can’t look good for us.” 

“You got attacked by a werewolf on the way to the bathroom. I saved you.” 

“Thought you said werewolves weren’t scary.”

He shakes his head, smirking, then presses a kiss to your temple. “Just said I was the bigger monster between the two of us.” 

“My hero.” You turn your head until his lips drink in yours. 

It is dangerous, your feelings for him. 

He taps you on the butt, pulling away. The lines around his eyes do an excellent job of masking the hurt in the brownness of his eyes. 

“Gimme five, then you come up. Can’t have you looking so completely debauched.”

He kisses you again, betraying whatever amounted to “cool and collected” he attempted for, and without another word, he slides out the door. 

His smell lingers in the air long after he does. The throbbing of your cunt also serves as a fantastically bitter reminder.

You go back to the mirror because yes, you could not have been more obvious if you were wearing a sign that said, “hi, yes, I did just get my back blown out.” You try to fold your hair around your ears at least a dozen times before pulling it back in what you hope to be a casual pony-tail. You toss your nylons into the trash can, pleading that the “oh, I tore them in the bathroom” excuse might hold an ounce of water. 

You think about what’s waiting for you a floor up and your stomach clenches. 

Fucking Max could upset the dynamics of your little group, your little Monster Squad. Whatever the stupid office bylines were, your happy-hour social group is one of the bright spots in your life, especially while working at a place run by those bastard Overlords. 

And Max knew that. He didn’t want to risk your long-term happiness for his short-term. 

Max didn’t scare you because he was a monster.

He scared you precisely because he wasn’t.

You open the bathroom door and return to the world. 

[twisted-gremlin]

Platonic Yandere second years!

Riddle(friend):

- you have become quite dear to him after the little... 'incident'

- he has worked hard for your forgiveness and helped you clean up Ramshake as apart of his apology

- he makes sure none would try to hurt you- what? He is just being a good friend

- hugs, headpats, and cuddles mean the world to him- so it just reinforces that what he has been doing is good-

- you're not allowed a boyfriend- he won't have it "everyone here is too barbaric and could hurt you again-"

- he overeacts every time he hears about another overblot- he makes you're you're not injured and goes and berates whoever overblotted for doing so- hwo dare they put their issues on you???

Ruggie(sibling):

- you both going up in poverty made you both quite resourceful. It also made Ruggie VERY protective of you. You could get hurt, kidnapped and forced into unspeakable things!

- ruggie has made it to no 2 in savanaclaw- so- you now have two burly scary savanaclaw men following your every move

- Jack will also sometimes be assigned to you because ruggie is glad you have a trustworthy and loyal friend, do take advantage of him♡

- you're not to ever be alone with anyone- not even Grim- he dosent like the way that cat acts so he may stay the night with ya or have someone do so- jts not tooooo hard-

Azul(sibling):

- he would 100% control your diet- you must eat as healthy as possible, we wouldn't want anyone bullying you or anything- but if people started crushing on you, he'll be more lineant and let you eat more fatty foods

- you work in the kitchen at the Monstro lounge- of course you get good pay, and wont have to be seen by anyone with degrading eyes- and if they try- well they can be torn out by the tweels-

- speaking of- if your bother isn't 'protecting' you- it's one of them- All. The. Time.

- you'll be made to dress in business attire often

- you dont often get time off of work, and if you somehow do, Azul gilts you into staying in his office with him- for sibling bonding 😀

Jade(bestie):

- being friends with Jade- was quite the experience leading up to it-

- he never took note of you until you asked to join his club-

- when he asked why you said you allways loved to hike and be outdoors and that you wanted to experience this new world and it's nature

- he found that adorable

- so you two often hike for long periods of time, it can take up to weeks-

- it's ok tough- he made sure to tell Vargas what the plan was

- if you ever fight with him, he just gave you a little snack, and then you two stopped fighting!

- he really values you and his time with you, don't try to leave him for some stupid boyfriend- they can be disposed of- of course he'll be there to comfort you- and hey! Let's take another hike to forget your pain!

Floyd(sibling):

- aweeee you think you can be apart from him?- he is literally carrying you around like a doll-

- he will call you by your name of course- he also has some fun nicknames too- when he uses them jt means he is upset at you tough-

- depending on his mood he'll show you off to the whole doorm or hide away jn his room for cuddle time

- big brother has you! Don't go asking Jade or Azul to help- because the last time you left Floyd nearly killed 10 people- Azul dosent want that- and Jade thinks you twos relationship is so adorable-

- Jade isn't as obsessed as Floyd is- but he makes sure the tought of leaveing them makes you feel so guilty it makes you sick-

- does he posion you? Does he manipulate you? Who cares- Floyd is cuddleing you and bitting you-

Kalim(sibling):

- you're just a babyyyyyy his baby siblingggggg

- he makes sure you have everything you could ever want! I mean- you both are from a rich family- bur Kailm goes the extra mile to be sure-

- want a pony? He knows exactly what you want and buys the exact one you want-

- he makes sure that at parties you're the center of it all!

- kalim does everything to be sure you're happy- he dosent like when you're sad- if you tear up he'll do everything in his power for a smile back on your lips!

Jamil(childhood friend):

- you allways treated him better than Kalim did- you saw him as an equal instead of being oblivious to the world's problems

- he saw you wanting to improve the world and he liked thar about you, he is allways going to be more loyal to you than to Kalim in a heartbeat

- but there is one thing he and Kalim do have in common witch is the need to keep you safe and happy- no matter what-

- you're safety is more important than your happiness-

- if he needed to break your legs so that you would stay in Scarabia- that'll be fine- hey- he and Kalim will be there for you- its too dangerous out there with all those overblots anyways- and those idiots-

- if you ask him he'll sing you a song to sleep- but when you do fall asleep, he won't leave- he'll stay- for your safety of course

Silver(long lost siblings):

- meeting him during the VDC was quite a surprise, you were a student of RSA and by chance literally ran into Silver-

- you both were half asleep when it happend and quickly apologized to one another

- once you got a closer look at him, you realized that "you're my older brother! Woah! I-" and just smiled and hugged him- all the Diasomnia boiyos were confused until you explained that thr royal rose family tought they lost their eldist son a long time ago- and he looked just like him-

- you quickly apologized for makeing assumptions tough- and they all accepted your apology-

- but something was clear, for being human you were surrounded by fairy magic- but unlike silver- you had light fae magic surrounding you-

- so while the VDC happend you two talked and got to know one another, you both just finding the other intriguing and wanting to be filled in on what you missed, feeling that your assumption was true after all-

- you admitted that you only have your uncles for family outside of silver but- something allways felt off about them until you developed your magic. Then you learned that your uncles were fae that took you in and blessed you with the voice of a song bird, a sweet soul, and everlasting protection from blot

- when silver asked about the last one you explained that when you were young aparantly you were very sick from blot you nearly overblotted and died- so now you rest as a rose grows on you to drain any bit of blot developed

- silver could empathize with falling asleep willy nilly- and just- wanted to protect you from any being who wanted to use you for their own gain... I mean- if someone made you use enough magic you could sleep for 100 years! And then he couldn't be with you any more... and you two would miss out on eachother more...

- after the VDC ended Silver managed to convince you to stay with him in Diasomnia, I mean- you were allready about to pass out, may aswell stay somewhere nearby-

- Silver takes very good care of you and makes sure you develop just enough blot while the two of you spend time together that you can't leave the doorm at all-

- he dosent neglect his duties to Malleus of course- you're often sleeping while he has to do other things around the school and the doorm-

- he treasures you like a younger sibling, because you are siblings, right?- you said so yourself!

[hacked-by-jake]

𝗡𝗼 𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁 𝗦𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁𝘀

Summary: Not everyone is interested in getting married, but in a dangerous life, a lot of bad things can happen. Especially in Jake and MC’s life, the couple cares a lot about safety. So they just wanted to be prepared for the worst. But if you have a Kaden, you don’t need enemies anymore.

Pairing: Jake x Fem!MC (She/Her)

Other characters: Kaden. (Jake's extroverted Brother. (If you don't know him yet, Kaden is an OC made by a couple of people from our Fandom. It began as little joke but some of us really enjoy the idea of him.) + The Group

Words: 2718

Warnings: Strong language / Marriage / Fast progress (?) / Implied accidents, death and severe injury (?) Not really but just in case. Quickly written

A/N: Okay, so, I wrote it this morning. If you’ve been following me for a while, you might know that I’m not a fan of getting married. Nevertheless, I had this idea in my head for a long time and somehow it came out today. I think it kinda suits MC and Jake. At least, how I imagine them so maybe you will like it as well. Please forgive me for any mistakes. Have fun. 💚 Oh, and very important, don't be like Kaden. Let people live. Do not force anyone into thinking that things like marriage is important to be fully happy. :)

"Yo yo yo, my two favourite chaotics." Kaden did not bother to wait until MC went out of the way and just pushed past her into the apartment as soon as the door was wide enough open.

"Ready for party?" he added and turned to the young woman, who closed the door while rolling her eyes.

"Sure, party, at the Rainbow, I can already see the hangover due to too much cake," mocked his brother’s girlfriend.

"MC, my sweet little MC," Kaden spoke as if he wanted to explain important life-rules to a 5 year old child. He came up to her, cupping her face and bringing his so close to her that his nose almost touched hers, "Anything can be a party if you act accordingly." He nudged her nose with a finger befor distancing himself again.

"So, where’s my dear brother? Not ready as usual, huh?"

He almost jumped straight through the room to the spiral staircase, took the first three steps up and singsong, "Jake, move your ugly ass down, we’re too late!"

MC couldn’t help but grin, "Wait here, I’ll get him, I have to change my shirt anyway."

As she went upstairs, Kaden sighed bored. As always, he was unfamiliar with privacy, and as long as he had to wait, he could also look around a bit. After all, it was the couple’s own fault.

If they weren’t late, he wouldn’t have time for this.

First he examined the framed picture of himself, his mother and his brother, which was palced on a dresser. This picture was taken almost 15 years ago and the two boys had been quite young and happy at the time. Every time he was here, he looked slightly melancholically at this picture, sighed and put it away with a grin. Just as now.

He already knew the rest of the living room by heart, at least the obvious decoration. He also knew most of the drawers, but decided to take a look at the top drawer. Maybe it has some new, interesting things to discover.

The drawer opened and the man froze as he saw the indeed new paper.

'Registry office - Certificate of marriage'

The words literally screamed into his face. If he had something to drink in his hand now, he would probably have spit the liquid against the next wall and choked terribly. Instead, his heart skipped a couple of important beats while he kept reading the couple’s, sorry, spouse's, two signatures at the end of the note over and over.

The words raced through his head, he understood what was there, but it took him a good minute to realize it.

But then, then it hit him right.

"What the fucking hell!" he yelled, grabbed the sealed paper and jumped up the stairs, ignoring two steps at a time.

At the same time, the door of Jake’s office opened and MC came out of the bedroom.

"What the hell is that?" Kaden waged furiously with the certificate in front of their faces, staring at them with wide eyes and shook his head in disbelief. He repeated his question, making a tiny pause between every word to emphasize the seriousness.

MC’s eyes grew even bigger than before while Jake could do nothing but looking tormented at his... wife.

When neither of the two attempted to answer, Kaden frantically hissed, "You are married! I thought you didn’t want to get married? And then you do it? Secretly?"

The woman wanted to approach him, calling his name calmingly.

He interrupted her, "Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?"

Jake sighed while passing her to enter the bedroom. But not without placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"Kaden, come down, you’re exhausting." His brother stopped in front of the closet, opened it and grabbed a hoodie which he pulled over his black shirt.

"I am exhausting? You got married! Without telling anyone!" the younger brother followed the hacker into the room.

MC stood behind him and gave Jake a tired look.

"Kaden, stop" she pleaded, "Yes, we got married. And we didn’t say anything because we didn’t want to make a big deal of it."

"No big deal?" Kaden snapped, "The most antisocial man in the world," pointing straight at Jake, "My brother. Got married! To a real, living woman, and you’re telling me that’s not a big deal?"

"Right." Jake growled, offended by the previously spoken words, "Because it’s no big deal."

"Why didn’t you say anything? And why the hell are you suddenly getting married and keeping it secret? You don’t even wear rings!"

"We didn’t say anything because we didn’t get married to capture our love on a piece of paper." MC joined her husband’s side. She grabbed his hand and looked into his eyes. His blue was filled with warmth and pure affection for her. "You know," she continued, "What happened with Richy back then, and after Jake disappeared and the arrest - we’ve just seen too many times what can go wrong without being able to expect it. Too often we have had to watch disasters, so call us ridiculous, but the reason we decided to take this step..," she paused. For the hacker, it was the sign to continue her sentence. He cleared his throat, the air suddenly seemed to be suffocating, "If anything happens. To me or MC, then we want to be able to decide about the other. No, rather for the other. Should the case occur that we ourselves can no longer do it."

For a few moments it was very quiet in the room. Not even Kaden, for once, knew what to say. Instead, he looked at his counterparts with a mixture of disbelief and concern.

This time it was MC who had to clear her throat, her voice sounded still a bit hoarse, "When it came to what happens with Richy in the hospital, the drama of who has the authority and all that. The argument between Jessy and Richy’s father - we just want to be able to do what’s best for the other. And only as a couple this is not possible, so we decided to get married without ceremony or anything else. Only legal and fast, and only for this one specific reason. You know that we both didn’t really want to get married, so we didn’t want to celebrate either. On the other hand, the reason why we did it, is not a reason worth to celebrate. We discussed it normally and decided to do it to be on the safe side if the worst case ever comes true. And we didn’t tell you anything because we really didn’t want you to make this thing bigger than it is. We love you, Kaden, but you know that keeping secrets and discretion are not your strengths." His new sister-in-law grinned slightly at the end.

Kaden looked slightly hurt, but could not stop the small grin that slowly crept on his lips. Everything he could get out was a soft, "Okay."

"O-okay?" Jake’s face grimaced in amazement, "No more? You accept it as it is?"

No, of course he did not.

"Yes, I do. I guess I have no choice. I admit, I feel hurt, but I have to live with it. I’m happy for both of you, tho." He dropped the paper onto their bed, bridged the gap and pulled the couple into a firm embrace.

"You are pathetic unromantic," Kaden muttered and ended the tender moment.

"We do know."

"I think we should really get going now." Jake recalled the meeting.

"Righty-right." his brother clapped his hands, "Let’s go!" He did not hesitate another second, leaving the two speechless behind.

Neither Jake nor MC trusted this situation, it did not suit Kaden to simply swallow such a thing and then continue. He makes a big deal out of everything. This reaction was more than suspect.

~

15 minutes later the three got out of Kaden’s car. They could already see the group sitting outside the Rainbow at a big table, laughing.

"Kaden," Jake’s voice was warning, "No word to the others, understand?"

"Ay ay, sir." He saluted exaggeratedly and nodded, "Go ahead, I’ll be right back, I’ll have to buy something for my computer." Jake tried to reach for his brother's arm but Kaden escaped him, "Don't worry, I will hurry up."

The young woman rolled her eyes once again, taking Jake’s hand into her own and together they joined their other friends.

~

Just as the friendly waitress had placed the last ordered drink on the table and left, Kaden suddenly appeared at the table.

Right behind Jake and MC.

"Hello, dearest brother." Lilly’s eyes began to glow with joy, but her second half-brother ignored her. He was way too busy praising himself for his very next move.

Without shame, he placed a small square box in front of the couple. It was clearly a ring box, covered in wonderful black velvet.

'Fuck you, Kaden!' MC hissed in her mind and closed her eyes, trying to control her breath. Or rather, her rapidly rising anger level.

"Kaden-" The hacker growled and wanted to turn around, but Kaden pressed his hand against Jake's mouth. "For the newly married couple!" he purred.

At the table it became dead-silent, just like Kaden earlier, everyone froze in the middle of the movement, staring at the standing man, then switching to Jake and MC.

"What do you mean, excuse me?" Jessy choked on her coffee. Dan who was sitting next to her immediately started patting her back a little too hard. The redhead coughed while trying to grab Dan’s hand, "Ouch, stop!"

"Yeah, right. Joker and Harley. V and Evey. Romio and Julia, the last one is the best fitting one, married quietly and secretly, sneakily and cocky, and they didn’t tell anyone."

Lilly almost jumped up from her chair, "You seriously got married?"

Hannah began to smile slowly. "Is that true? You got married?" The older sister looks at them like real unicorns are sitting in front of her. Her eyes were a real competition for the ones of the little girl in the movie 'Despicable Me'.

The first shock had dissolved and everyone started to talk wildly.

"Goddamnit Kaden, you fucking asshole!" Jake turned to his brother and wanted to get up to be at his eye level, but MC put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Let’s just do it, we have no other choice anyway."

To put an end to the discussion, she took Jake’s hand and then spoke out loud to get through the jumble of voices, "Yes, we got married. Two weeks ago. No, we didn’t do it out of infinite love, even if we do, we just want to be able to take care of each other, even in an emergency. We don’t wanted a situation like the one we had with Richy back then. No, we do not want to celebrate now and we do not want to make a big issue of it. We’re a couple like before, we just signed a note, that’s all."

Kaden’s grin grew wider and wider, if that was still possible, while he finally took the last free chair.

Seconds passed again, filled with nothing but silence, then the voice-chaos repeated.

MC whined and dropped her head against Jake’s shoulder, needed his near and searching for support. To her surprise, even he was grinning lightly. She had rather expected that the hacker would take the fork in front of him and ram it into Kaden’s shoulder.

Mentioned one just leaned back contentedly in his chair and watched the whole thing with devilish pleasure.

"You're officially banned from our home!"

He gratefully pretended to put the middle finger he had just been shown by his beloved sister-in-law into his pocket.

"Excuse me," the waitress stepped back into the action, "There seems to be a big reason for you discussion, but I ask you to be a little quieter, the other guests also want to talk."

"Sorry, Liza, we’ll be quiet." Cleo knew the woman for a long time, they both had attended several cooking classes together.

"Oh, and congratulations," she turned to Jake and MC before moving to another table.

"Listen," Jake’s brother supported his elbows on the table and leaned forward, "I know you both hate me now-"

Jake snorted, "Not only since now."

A unanimous laugh, an eye-rolling of Kaden, a punch against Jake's chest by MC.

"Okay, correction: I know you hate me even more now," he winked, "But I had a good reason to be an asshole."

"Pah," Dan chuckled, "Funny. You say that every time."

"Let him finish, Dan" Although Thomas said what everyone thought, he just pulled his head in and looked consistently away from the bearded one.

"Thank you, Thomas." The younger brother blew a kiss towards Thomas.

"Well, you hate me, okay, we hate you for not saying a word to us, but I still want to make one thing clear. Warning, cheesy shit ahead - For you, this may be a small and insignificant thing, but not for us. If you don’t want to celebrate, okay, but we want to celebrate."

Lilly cut him off, "Exactly!"

"Shit," Hannah sobbed, her boyfriend immediately wrapped an arm around her, she continued, "Kaden is right, I understand why you didn’t say anything. And yes, this is appropriative, I admit it. But I don’t know of any couple who deserves the pure happiness more than you two, no couple has had it as hard as the two of you. And if it’s not a big happening for you-"

"For us it is." Cleo solemnly raised her glass.

"Truly!" Jessy did the same.

"Blah blah blah."

"Dan!" The whole group snapped at him at the same time which leads him to raise his hands in defence.

"Check out the rings," Kaden nodded at the box. Jake did as instructed. To be honest, he liked the whole thing here. Although he did not think much of marriage as proof of love, the term 'my wife' made him proud. And he also liked the idea of wearing matching rings with her more and more.

In the beautiful box there were two matt black rings, a slightly larger and wider one, and the second slightly smaller and narrower.

The hacker pulled out the smaller, MC still leaned against his shoulder.

"See the inside." Kaden smiled lovingly.

'Till Death' was neatly engraved inside.

"The second looks the same," the ring buyer informed them with another wink.

The new bride looked at him stunned, "They're beautiful!"

"And absolute destiny. These were the only not boring rings the jeweler had, see if they fit you."

Hannah had already pulled out her phone and filmed the couple.

MC giggled and pulled out the second ring, "Alright, let's do this." She exhaled loudly and turned to Jake, he followed her example.

"And three, two, one." Lilly joked. Thomas tapped the table with his palms, imitating a drum roll.

And then, more ceremonial than they ever imagined, the two of them put the ring on each other’s fingers. Of course, they fitted perfectly.

Kaden laughed happily, "You may kiss the bride now! But remember, we are in public, 18 plus is not -"

Before the he could finish his sentence, the spouses already kissed each other.

The group cheered and clapped loudly. But not only them. Of course, by now, all the other people around the group had long understood what was happening there and joined the small celebration.

Jake and MC, both slightly flushed, smiled into the kiss. Even if it was not as they had imagined, they were more than happy. The reason for this was not the meaning of a marriage or something similar, but the love of her friends and family.

"Till Death," Jake whispered, leaning his forehead against his wife’s. "Till Death." MC agreed just as quietly.

Till death, and beyond.

[bestworstcase]

This is probably outside of your purview, but do you think the fights in RWBY have gotten worse, or just different from what came before?

i think there has been a shift away from tightly-choreographed showcase fights toward a more naturalistic approach prioritizing setting and character over rhythm and composition. whether or not this is aesthetically preferable is a matter of taste, but it is absolutely to the benefit of the narrative as a whole.

there’s this beat during the group fight vs tyrian in volume four where tyrian kicks ruby and her aura ripples out from the point of impact in such a way to create the illusion of deeper motion: it looks like her ribs buckling as that force moves through her body, it feels like we’re seeing this formidable new adversary break her fucking ribs after throwing JNR around like ragdolls. it isn’t shot with any particular artistry or stylistic finesse; the shot is instead lined up to emphasize the violence.

that serves a more important narrative purpose than aesthetics: it makes it believable that ruby just cowers in dread after taking this hit, it viscerally drives home how dangerous tyrian is, building tension, setting the stakes for the upcoming fight with qrow, and thus it also underscores the contrast between tyrian’s wild brutality and qrow’s discipline when they fight and qrow tips the scales not because he’s stronger but because he doesn’t let tyrian rattle him… it’s doing quite a lot of work for a mere handful of frames.

compare, say, the nevermore fight, which is beautifully shot and choreographed but doesn’t have a lot to say: ruby can plan elaborate tactics on the fly and communicate them to her team well enough to execute the whole thing flawlessly, and… that’s kind of it. RLR2 does all the narrative heavy lifting. and that’s fine, to be clear, because this is a point where the story is still setting up the board and introducing us to these characters.

but the nature of rwby as a story is that the fight scenes cannot stay that way. and this isn’t even a “monty/not monty” thing, you can see the experimentation with using fights as a medium to develop character and theme starting early in volume two: ruby calling out team attacks and narrating yang’s semblance during the mech fight, splitting up the team on the train so wby can each duel an opponent who represents their personal struggle*, doing the battle in breach as a sequence of character moments, etc.

(*weiss feels disgusted by what the SDC has become and wants to reclaim the schnee name -> she faces a white fang officer who loathes her for being a schnee; blake is torn up about not knowing how to solve all these big social problems and reeling with the emotional fallout of leaving adam’s white fang -> torchwick tries to push those buttons; yang feels rootless and hollow and worried her current outlook is unsustainable -> she has to fight somebody she literally cannot touch and her increasingly frustrated attempts to punch through get turned against her the instant she overextends.)

in early volume two it all feels a bit clunky and uncoordinated in part because the mech fight is still so stylized. the fights on the train and the battle in vale are less so; you still get those tightly-choreographed sequences, but balanced out with moments that are more raw and real—the fake-out “slow-motion killshot” that turns out to be just weiss’s time dilation catching up, followed by the lieutenant grabbing her face and yanking her out of the air, is a particularly effective example with the grapple being shot with the same intention as tyrian kicking ruby in the chest—and also just more grounded in who the characters are (weiss gets in trouble trying to be fancy, yang’s frustrated determination is both a strength and a weakness, blake takes torchwick down with brutal efficiency because she’s used to fighting people but she also lets him say his piece before knocking him out because that matters to her).

so like—waves hands—volume two sets the course that is followed in the latter volumes where the fights become increasingly less about style and more about substance. the style is very much still there, it’s just not The Main Event anymore. it’s garnish on fight scenes you can write robust character analysis about.

[softstraykidshours]

~skz as book tropes~

pairing: stray kids ot8 x gn!reader

genre: fluff, headcanon

length: 761

warnings: slight mentions of cheating (not from skz member), bullying (lovingly)

chan: best friends to lovers

you’ve been besties since elementary school and do practically everything together

in college you enter into your first long-term relationship and the two of you grow further apart until you stop talking entirely

your partner cheats on you and you call chan even though you haven’t spoken in months

he picks you up and you both start talking 

one thing leads to another and suddenly he’s confessing that he’s been in love with you for years (he grew distant because he couldn’t stand seeing you in a relationship with someone else)

minho: forced proximity

your dad is a rich problematic politician under threat so you’re assigned a bodyguard 

you hate your dad and the whole situation so you’re constantly trying to sneak away, but he’s always one step ahead

since you're stuck together all the time, you end up talking a lot and he starts to grow on you

a few weeks into the arrangement, a riot breaks out during a conference and he has to take you to a secure location for the night (which just so happens to have only one bed)

while stuck in the small room together, the tension ends up being too much and you end up confessing your feelings only to find out he feels the same way

changbin: new boss

you just got a major promotion at work and on your first day you are rushing through the lobby and dump your coffee down the front of someone (who is definitely not happy about it)

when you make it upstairs to the office you’ll be working in you find the angry stranger from the lobby changing shirts (major shocker, he’s your new boss)

cue a classic grumpy sunshine arc

hyunjin: fake dating

you’re out at a bar one night when your crazy ex shows up so you grab a random stranger and pretend he’s your boyfriend

he plays along for hours until your ex finally leaves

as payback, he asks you to be his fake date for a dinner with his parents (they're always on him about settling down, but he is too busy to date)

you accidentally get dragged into more events by his parents, but you go anyways, because it turns out you’re really starting to like this guy

looots of denial on his part for a long time because he “doesn’t do relationships” before he finally admits he has feelings for you to

jisung: rivals to lovers

you genuinely cannot stand each other and have spent every year competing in school and bullying each other (he has literally shoved you into a locker before)

you both go to the same college (without knowing) and when you walk into your first class of the year, of course he’s there

the teacher grows sick of you two constantly antagonizing each other and disrupting class so he pairs you together for a group project

cue lots of arguing and tension until you realize maybe you don’t actually hate each other like you’ve thought all these years 

felix: brother's best friend

you grew up together and you always had a crush on him, but he always treated you like a little sister

after studying abroad for two years you finally come home, but he is acting super weird around you now

you finally confront him and he confesses he realized what you truly meant to him while you were gone and that he has feelings for you

cue you two sneaking around to keep it a secret from your brother until he inevitably finds out

seungmin: soulmates

you lock eyes across a coffee shop and it’s love at first sight (but you can’t do anything because you’re both on dates with other people)

you don’t see each other again for months, but you can’t stop thinking of each other

out of the blue one day, you bump into each other again and then after that you start running into each other everywhere

lots of drama and complications, but in the end it’s always him

jeongin: second chance

you dated in high school and it ended very messy before you both leave for college in different states 

you move back home years later to take care of your sick mother only to find out he also is back

looots of tension between the two of you over your unresolved issues

you end up bonding over the death of your mother and over time slowly work throw things while you also remembering why you fell in love with him all those years ago

[k7l4d4]

K Reviews and Rants: Miraculous Ladybug Season 5! Episode 23

Hello all, time to see the episode where the writers give up on making their writing believable in favor of cheap, uninspired emotional appeals!

Now, with this episode, I could take my time ripping into the show fixating on this fantasy in its head that Chloe is a genuine threat... but I'm not going to because that topic has been talked to death a hundred and one times. Instead, I'm gonna focus on the moral of this episode... and how it utterly falls apart.

Namely, the episode seems to be pushing the narrative that you can't wait around and rely on people to solve your problems for you, you have to do it yourself... or at the very least just reach out and let others KNOW you need help. Why does this fall apart? Because in addition to the fact that Chloe being a problem at all is forced by the writers blatantly ignoring how she has no real power and the police could just drag her out of office whenever they like... Adrien does literally nothing this entire episode to solve HIS personal problem about his dad forcing him to move.

He never mentions it to any of his friends OR his girlfriend (who he can hold down a long-distance relationship with if it DOES come down to him moving, as his and her video-chatting in the prior episode demonstrates), and the one time he bothers to acknowledge that there's nothing that can be said to his dad to make him change his mind, it comes off more as a lazy excuse on his part not to share how he's feeling. Throughout this entire episode, and all the episodes in which this plot has been leading up to now, Adrien takes the worst decision every time towards opening up and sharing his problems while also doing nothing on a personal level to help himself. He just... stands around, feeling sorry for himself.

How can you push the idea that people need to stand up to injustice themselves when you can't even have one of the two main leads stand up for HIMSELF?

I could add more details... but I think this gets my point across nicely. Thank you, and now, onto the review! As always, warning for any profanity on my part.

Episode 23: Revolution

Okay, and we get the opening scene of "Mayor Chloe" talking to Nadja that she has "Outlawed Chat Noir, Ladybug, and Monarch." Because outlawing someone who is already a terrorist that nobody can find and the only people capable of stopping him is SUCH A GOOD IDEA FOLKS!!! God fucking dammit. I'm not too pissed off yet, but the fact that nobody in law enforcement is dragging her out of that office and calling her out on her BS of being Mayor because her dad was Mayor is utterly stupid. If this is meant to be some kind of jab about "the rich are the new nobility/royalty" or something like that, it fails. Miserably.

Nadja asks if "this will last long" without actually specifying what "this" is, with Chloe having to be fed lines by Lila over an earbud so as to not blow it already. She also fumbles "democratic" TWICE. News flash Astruc, Dumb Blonde jokes have been in bad taste for a few decades by now!! Chloe then ends things while declaring that her new robots will be upholding "her law in Paris," never mind that not only is her position totally illegitimate, Mayors DO NOT HAVE THE POWER TO ARBITRARILY DECIDE WHAT IS OR ISN'T A LAW.

Now, we get to the heroes, with Chat pointing out that they have a moral obligation to stop Chloe, and Ladybug saying that they can't because she's not Akumatized... which is bullshit, as both the specials and incidents like the fight against the flying dinosaurs proved. Yes, they can't attack her... but why the hell would they NEED TO ATTACK HER? Literally just going in, marching her out to the ACTUAL police and having them detain her would accomplish literally the exact same thing. Saying "they'll look like the bad guys" is a completely bullshit non-answer.

Aaannnd... they passed the buck onto "adults, an authority figure" to handle the problem. Because clearly that's a good lesson to teach kids, don't stand up to what you see as a systemic problem in the world or an abuse of power, even if you have the means to oppose it, just leave it to someone else. THAT'S what you should be teaching kids, not that doing what is right, even if it's hard, is important.

Now they head back home, and Marinette is watching videos on the news reporting what's going on and citizen reactions. First up, a pair of ladies who I'm thinking that Astruc had designed to give off the same vibes of "smug, elitist, rich white person" vibes as Chloe is meant to give off, saying it's a good thing that Chloe is in power because she's a "young person, like us, representing us!" Next we get the racist cop who denounces superheroes as pointless due to not stopping Monarch yet, and then publicly airing a conspiracy theory that they are all in on it together. Then we get another adult, who points out how utterly stupid having a teenager declaring herself Mayor is.

Now it's on to Adrien, I wonder how he's doing? Staring at a picture of Marinette on his phone it looks like. And once again all that's going on is that he's angsting over telling his girlfriend that he's moving. After all, it's not as if he can HAVE A LONG DISTANCE RELATIONSHIP, or, I dunno, PRACTICE TELLING HER BY TELLING HIS OTHER FRIENDS!!! Seriously, do Nino, Alya, and the rest of his classmates mean NOTHING to him in terms of telling this info? Does he honestly believe they'd have no advice to share!? What is wrong with this guy!?

His answer on why he's not saying anything? He's hoping he'll be able to convince his dad not to send him... fuck that. Dude, FUCK. THAT!! For absolute FUCK'S SAKE THIS IS THE GUY WHO HAS DONE NOTHING BUT BE AN UTTER BASTARD TO YOU FOR YEARS, YOU AREN'T GONNA CONVINCE HIM!! HECK, HE MADE IT CLEAR HE'S DOING THIS TO SEPARATE YOU FROM MARINETTE!!! JUST RUN AWAY ALREADY!!!!

Okay, now we got Plagg, the guy the show has made repeatedly clear LOATHES and is annoyed by romance, shilling Marinette as "the most amazing girl in the whole universe." Please give me a moment while I hurl; it's not even over how utterly fucking CHEESY this is, it's how unironic they are at shilling the girl who has dropped the ball REPEATEDLY, and has routinely violated Adrien's boundaries without his knowledge. This is disturbing to me. At least he's stating the simple solution of asking someone for help... still fucking pissed that it's all centered around MARINETTE rather then exploring his OTHER FRIENDSHIPS that are a lot closer than whatever tangled mess he has going on with Marinette. You know, like his best friend that the narrative conveniently forgot about as soon as they could?

And upon a call from Marinette, NOW he decides that this is the right time. It's really fucking ironic that all of Adrien's scenes and relevance to the plot this season is all about Marinette, whereas Marinette's scenes actually DO SOMETHING towards expanding upon what's going on around them all. And it is immediately derailed by Marinette asking him to watch the news. So much for her call being "a sign." Now we get more reactions to Chloe's dictatorship, Hooray! First off is a guy saying she can't be worse than her father... yeah, she absolutely can, seeing as her dad was corrupt, but she's corrupt AND a literal teenager with no qualifications. And another guy brushing off any issues since they'll have an election soon. It's really, REALLY fucking stupid how these people are both taking her at her words, and ignoring how A TEENAGER DOES NOT HAVE THE ABILITY TO ASSUME POWER AT HER OWN SAY-SO!! SHE IS NOT EVEN AN ELECTED OFFICIAL!!!

"Someone's bound to do something." Nope, no one will, never mind the fact that CHLOE NEVER SHOULD'VE EVEN GOTTEN THIS FAR! Oh and Marinette interrupts Adrien's attempt to explain his situation by calling everyone to do something. Clearly this can't possibly go wrong and will have an actual meaningful impact! Surely it will. /s

Now we get a scene of Chloe playing with her toys testing the incredibly advanced "police robots" Gabe and Tomoe are bribing her with supplied to City Hall, once again having the narrative IGNORE HOW NONE OF THIS IS EVEN REMOTELY LEGAL!!! Oh, and Audrey is present too for some reason. She also fires that one butler that is more prominent than the rest of the staff because she's got robots now... whatever happened to her words at the Diamond Dance, what was it again, something about how the robots aren't as fun because she can't boss them around or something?

Gabe proceeding to layer the flattery on thick with Chloe... wonder how that'll go. Probably terribly. "All the superoffenders have disappeared." BITCH IT HASN'T EVEN BEEN A FUCKING WEEK YOU ASSHOLE!!! But that's also the perfect thing to say to Chloe in this scenario, she's too much of a self-centered idiot to spot the obvious fault in her decision. Oh, and it looks like Lila had Chloe recording the meeting.

So far, I'm mostly just banging my head against a wall over how stupid this entire plot is. THERE IS NO SITUATION IN WHICH A TEENAGER IS GOING TO HOLD THE POSITION OF MAYOR. EVER. Tomoe and Gabe proceed to plot about how they are going to use Chloe's incompetence as a Mayor (STILL IGNORING HOW SHE CAN'T LEGALLY HOLD THE POSITION!!!), and at least acknowledge that there isn't a chance in hell Chat and Ladybug are gonna ignore this for good, before Monarch personally visits Chloe... instead of, you know, sending the Butterfly and communicating with her directly, something he is FULLY CAPABLE OF DOING!!! Meaning the guy is deliberately waltzing into the lair of someone who has declared him an outlaw. Not as if she couldn't just have her robots capture him, take his Miraculous for herself, and establish herself as Queen of Paris in truth, but that would require the writers to think these things through and for Chloe to be allowed to have a brain.

Oh look, they actually had Chloe be smart enough to have her robots target Monarch! Now if only he wasn't LITERALLY STUPID ENOUGH TO SHOW UP IN PERSON. And we learn that as the creator of them, Tomoe has an override of the system... how in the world did she even see the screen targeting Monarch? She's supposed to be blind, right?? Can she hear them targeting through the screen or something!? And just as Chloe is about to do the smart thing and refuse Monarch's offer for an alliance (YOU DO NOT NEED TO BE THERE IN PERSON, IDIOT!!!), Lila tells her to accept... ugh...

This, this is just stupid. IT IS IDIOTIC!! IT IS BULLSHIT!!! NOTHING ABOUT THIS MAKES SENSE!! IS CHLOE MENTALLY DISABLED!? IS THAT WHAT THIS IS!? BECAUSE NO ONE CAN POSSIBLY BE THIS STUPID!! SHE IS NOT A THREAT, SHE IS JUST A DUMB KID DANCING TO SOMEONE ELSE'S STRINGS!! HOW THE FUCK ARE WE SUPPOSED TO TAKE HER SERIOUSLY AS THE "WORST OF THE WORST"!? WE CAN'T!!! FUCK THIS FUCKING BULLSHIT!!!!

And we learn the specifics of the deal is that Monarch will Akumatize her, yadda yadda yadda, make it look like she's not an Akuma, yadda yadda yadda... NONE OF THIS EXPLAINS WHY HE IS IN THE FUCKING ROOM WHEN HE CAN COMMUNICATE WITH PEOPLE!!! HECK, HE COULD HAVE GIVEN HIMSELF THE POWER TO COMMUNICATE AT A DISTANCE!!! The obvious answer is that they wanted an excuse to keep Monarch from learning about Lila feeding Chloe lines, but that if anything just shows how weak their efforts in making Lila a threat are. If she's only a threat when they actively keep the antagonist from knowing she's in the know, then she's not a real threat.

Oh, we also get the stupidity of Chloe's robots having multiple powers. Not even gonna get into that bullshit.

Now we are back to the school, and Adrien announcing his determination to tell Marinette everything... because obviously it's only Marinette that deserves to know that his father is forcing him to move to London, and not any of his other friends. (Rolls eyes)

Apparently Marinette, Alya, and Mylene came up with some kind of protest...? Watch and be amazed as it amounts to nothing when Chloe shows up in her "covert Akuma form," with once again NO ONE OBJECTING TO THE FACT THAT A TEENAGE GIRL IS NOT ALLOWED TO BE THE FUCKING MAYOR UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES!!! Oh, and Chloe also lying to the news about giving limitless freedom to the citizens of Paris... I'll be honest, I could actually see her doing something like that, not out of any kind of goodness of her heart but more due to just being too ignorant to understand the consequences of basically letting everyone do whatever they want, no questions asked, and doing so would make her own life easier as well.

And it turns out the protest is over Miss Bustier... because their fired teacher, who the Mayor NEVER HAD THE AUTHORITY TO AUTHORIZE THE FIRING OF, is the real issue over the fact that one of their classmates is illegally holding a position of power. Also, them calling her "Miss Bustier the Great" is pretty cringe. It's blatantly forced just to make the rhyme work.

And their big protest is... to refuse to go to class. Okay? That... is utterly fucking pointless. Seriously, "REFUSING TO GO BACK TO CLASS" IS THE BEST THESE IDIOTS COULD COME UP WITH!? WHO FUCKING CARES!!! IT'S NOT A COMPELLING THREAT BECAUSE IT'S NOT HURTING ANYONE BUT THEMSELVES AND ISN'T DISRUPTING ANY OTHER PROCESSES OR EVENTS GOING ON!! IT IS ENTIRELY PERFORMATIVE BS THAT AMOUNTS TO JACK AND SHIT!!!

WHY should Chloe CARE that none of you want to go to Class!? SHE DOESN'T!!! Oh, right, Lila is talking in her ear. Also, I don't know why Chloe singled out Zoe for "pretending to be her sister" since I'm pretty sure that isn't exactly public knowledge!? She didn't even CALL YOU her sister, so why are you bringing it up!? Also, them shoe-horning "libertarian" in there; that... amounts to nothing.

...She's seriously calling them willfully sabotaging their own education "holding the school hostage"? This is... this is moronic. That is the only thing I can call it, this is utterly MORONIC. Aside from her blatantly slandering Miss Bustier, her throwing shade at Damocles' obsession with acting like he's a Superhero is spot on as he's shown that he hasn't learned his lesson, and how it negatively impacts his work; her refusing to reinstate him (not that she even COULD) is one of her few smart decisions.

The protesters do point out how she's twisting the situation stupidly, but it falls apart since this ENTIRE FUCKING PLOT is held up by tissues and prayers by writers high off their own farts. Seriously, why is Lila even BOTHERING to try and manipulate Chloe? Chloe can't even keep up an act good enough to last TWO SECONDS when around anyone who doesn't enable her BS, this entire thing is stupid as fuck. What is the point? What is supposed to be going on!?

Okay, the one interesting thing going on is that Chloe tried to burst Marinette's bubble about what Adrien is being made to do... seriously, DO NONE OF THESE IDIOTS REMEMBER THAT A LONG DISTANCE RELATIONSHIP IS POSSIBLE!?

Mylene and Ivan disappear after having publicly stood up to Chloe, Hmm, I wonder if there's a connection!? We also see that Chloe SOMEHOW managed to get a gold statue of herself made. HOW!? WHEN!? WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT!? Oh, and Chloe literally having Ms. Mendeleiev prove to be a fucking disaster of a teacher by spoon-feeding her her own propaganda.

Chat and Ladybug doing nothing about the stupid as fuck statue because "Monarch had nothing to do with it," DID THESE IDIOTS LOSE THEIR FUCKING MINDS!? SERIOUSLY, CHLOE'S POSITION IS ILLEGAL!! IT HAS NO BASIS!! NO LEGITIMACY!! YOU COULD LITERALLY DRAG HER OUT "OFFICE" BY HER EAR AND IT WOULD BE JUSTIFIED SINCE THE POSITION OF MAYOR DOESN'T PASS TO THE MAYOR'S CHILD!!!! GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!!!

Yet another case of Adrien trying to tell Marinette only to clam up when she asks him to talk to his dad to get him to stop Chloe... it's funny how this episode is ignoring that Gabe is a fucking terrible person, ESPECIALLY MARINETTE!! Girl, HE THREATENED YOUR FUTURE IN DESIGNING AND IS A TOXIC CONTROL FREAK!! YOU KNOW THIS!!! WHY THE HELL WOULD HE EVEN CARE ABOUT STOPPING CHLOE EVEN IF HE WASN'T MONARCH!!!

"Talking to my father won't solve anything." That's the most reasonable thing anyone has ever said this episode. And just as he's about to elaborate, Chloe shows up in a helicopter and yells at the Ice Cream Idiot if he got his permit, which he said he doesn't need. THIS is one of the very few good things she did this episode; over dramatic or not, you shouldn't EVER have someone without a permit selling food, especially not out of a fucking pushcart!!!

"No one can ever prevent you from bringing so much happiness!" What happiness? He's an annoying idiot who is hyper-fixated on relationships and throws a temper tantrum bad enough to get AKUMATIZED whenever he's "wrong."

And now Alya's missing!! What could ever be going on- oh for fuck's sake, it's obviously Chloe!! Seriously, how in the world is it that hard to wrap their heads around the idea that Chloe is snatching up and arresting anyone and everyone who she dislikes!? Even without Akuma powers, she could probably get it done by just hiring some shady goons!!!

And apparently Chloe sent the Dupain-Chengs to Detention... whatever the fuck that's supposed to be, for the crime of expecting her to pay like everyone else. Why the fuck is that even a dealbreaker for her!? HER WHOLE DEAL NOW IS THAT SHE'S RICH SO SHE DOESN'T NEED TO WORK OR DO ANYTHING, SO FLAUNTING HER WEALTH SHOULDN'T BE A PROBLEM FOR HER!! Seriously, I'm pretty sure they only did this to ensure Marinette "got on the right track."

Honestly, I'm genuinely confused on what Chloe's end goal is even supposed to be. She's just getting rid of anyone that annoys her. What is she gonna do when there's no one left to make go away?

Now FINALLY Adrien catches on that something is weird, and it looks like everyone is missing by this point, and when he finally goes to confront Chloe... her big "threat" is just to tell Marinette that Adrien is leaving to go to London at his father's insistence, which, again, even ignoring how she has no way of knowing that Chloe couldn't possibly know that he's been trying to tell Marinette ever since this nonsense started, LONG DISTANCE RELATIONSHIPS ARE A THING!! I GUESS that the fact he's been lying to her would put a strain on things, but not THAT big of a fucking strain!!

Also, while it's meant to be mean-spirited mockery, Chloe is basically spot-on that Adrien's been acting like a spineless puppet for who knows how long by this point. Even ignoring the whole "He's a sentimonster" thing, he has been completely spineless and a wet blanket regarding Gabe and refuses to actually stand up to himself for real.

We get a look at what "Detention" looks like, and apparently she even sent Andre there. I can't tell if Chloe deliberately designed the place without an exit, or if she just forgot. She's been made so stupid I wouldn't put either one past her.

"How can Chloe pull this off?" SHE IS AN AKUMA!! SHE LITERALLY TELEPORTED YOU INTO A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT AREA!! HOW FUCKING THICK CAN YOU POSSIBLY BE!? IT SHOULD BE ABUNDANTLY OBVIOUS TO ANYONE WHO SHE HAS BROUGHT TO "DETENTION" THAT SHE IS AN AKUMA BY THIS FUCKING POINT!!!!

Honestly, it's a bit weird that Chloe would have her screens say "I'll protect you, you can always count on me." Like, it honestly sounds GENUINE when the screens say it. If I didn't know that it's meant to just be a sign of how EEEEVVVIIILLL she is, I'd say that it's a reflection of her own deluded belief that she's the good guy and is in the right for her actions.

Okay, ignoring how Chloe somehow has this weird facility just... IN PARIS for some reason. Not even gonna acknowledge how much of a blatantly stupid cop-out it is. I'm just baffled how no one collapsed from hunger if she's had them literally doing nothing but walking in a huge-ass loop for hours?

I'm sincerely baffled how anyone would buy that Chloe has made "Paris utterly better then how it was before." She's basically done NOTHING, and why the FUCK would Chloe think anyone besides her mom and her mom's cronies would actually BUY THIS!? FOR GOD FUCKS SAKE!!! THIS ENTIRE BULLSHIT IS RUNNING OFF OF EVERYONE IGNORING THAT HER ENTIRE POSITION IS BULLSHIT!! WHY THE FUCK HAS THIS EVEN LASTED THIS LONG!? GET THIS THE FUCK OVER WITH!!!

At this point, I think there won't be anything more of depth to be said, so to spare my blood pressure, I'm just gonna wait for when she's defeated and I can unleash my rage on the ending.

Never mind, already reached my breaking point, WHAT THE HELL IS THIS BULLSHIT!? CHLOE LITERALLY JUST ADMITTED TO BEING AKUMATIZED IN PUBLIC!! HOW THE FUCK HAS NO ONE COMPLAINED ABOUT THIS!? WHY THE FUCK DID IT TAKE SEEING THE INVULNERABILITY-ENHANCED SHELTERS BE WHAT TIPPED THEM OFF THAT MONARCH IS INVOLVED, SHE LITERALLY PARALYZED AND TELEPORTED THEM WITH ROBOTS!!! THIS IS UTTER FUCKING BULLSHIT!!!!! FUCK THIS ROTTEN NOISE!!! BURN IT ALL DOWN TO THE GROUND AND DANCE ON THE ASHES!!!!

Oh, and the entire plot of "we can't wait for someone else to solve this problem, WE should've been solving it from the start" doesn't work even remotely because CHLOE NEVER EVEN SHOULD'VE BEEN A FUCKING PROBLEM THIS EPISODE!!!!

OH AND NOW IT APPEARS THEY CAN JUST TELL THEIR DETRANSFORMATION NOT TO HAPPEN BECAUSE FUCK WHATEVER INTERNAL CONSISTENCY EXISTS IN THIS BULLSHIT I GUESS!!!

WHY THE FUCK ARE THEY EVEN DOING THIS STUPID SPEECH ABOUT "KEEP FIGHTING WITHOUT US" SUPPOSED TO BE!? WHAT FIGHTING!? THIS ENTIRE PLOT IS UTTER STUPIDITY BASED ON THEM ALWAYS DOING THE STUPIDEST POSSIBLE OPTION!!! FUCK ALL OF THIS!!! FUCK THIS PLOT!! FUCK THIS AKUMATIZATION!!! FUCK ALL THIS STUPID FUCKING NOISE!!!! THIS IS NOT SOME INSPIRATIONAL SCENE!!! IT IS STUPID!!! IT IS NOTHING BUT A WASTE OF FUCKING AIR!!!!

AND NOW GET THE POINT WHERE THEY LITERALLY FORCE THE DETRANSFORMATION TO REVERSE BECAUSE WHY THE FUCK NOT!? WHY THE ABSOLUTE FUCK NOT!? WHAT BETTER WAY TO TOP OFF THIS BULLSHIT SUNDAY OF A FIASCO BY GIVING THEM THE ULTIMATE WRITERS COPOUT TO HAVING BEEN SET UP TO FUCKING FAIL IN THE MOST RIDICULOUS WAY IMAGINABLE!!!! GET THE FUCK OVER IT ALREADY!!!

"I guess they must've grown up, Master." GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE WITH THAT STUPIDITY!! THAT IS NOT WHAT BEING A GROWN UP MEANS!!! THIS IS JUST STUPIDITY!!!!

AND IT LOOKS LIKE THAT WHAT LILA WAS AFTER WAS THE STUPID FUCKING LAPTOP TOMOE HAD, NOT LIKE SHE COULDN'T HAVE JUST HAD CHLOE ARREST THEM WHEN THEY WENT TO MEET HER!!!

"I'm sure the people of Paris would love to have a Mayor like you!" SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT THE ABSOLUTE FUCK UP!!!!

AND NOW WE GET TO THE UTTER STUPIDITY OF CHLOE GETTING VERBALLY ABUSED BY AUDREY WHILE ON THE WAY TO NEW YORK!!! THAT IS CLEARLY A FITTING PUNISHMENT FOR AN ABUSED CHILD!!!

"I'm going to take control of your life again, starting with your education." WORD TO THE FUCKING WISE, ASSTRUC, IF YOU WANT TO CLAIM CHLOE ISN'T ABUSED, DO NOT HAVE THE WOMAN YOU REPEATEDLY MAKE VERBALLY ABUSE HER IMPLY THAT SHE HAS ABUSED CHLOE IN THE PAST!!!!

Huh, they actually had Chloe show an extremely brief moment of regret and vulnerability when looking at Sabrina's photo in her phone, too bad that won't amount to anything, especially when she immediately starts flicking over to Marinette's contact! Speaking of which, why the hell does she even HAVE Marinette in her contacts?

And Adrien never actually manages to tell Marinette he's leaving, what a WONDERFUL resolution to this stupidity thus far! And once again Nathalie proves to be a spineless worm in her refusal to actually stand up to Gabe's abusive control of Adrien and enabling his crimes.

And we get to see Adrien having an argument with Gabe about him living his own life. Wow, it's almost as if he's both forgotten that he can have a long-distance relationship AND can just, you know, run away?

If this scene of him calling Marinette with tears in his eyes is meant to be sad, it's ruined by the fact this show has utterly squandered Adrien's character by reducing EVERY FUCKING THING IN HIS LIFE UP UNTIL NOW TO BE ABOUT MARINETTE!!! WHAT HAPPENED TO THE GUY WHO BROKE OUT OF HIS OWN HOUSE TO GO TO SCHOOL!? WHY IS HE STRUGGLING NOW OF ALL TIMES TO STICK UP FOR HIMSELF!? WHAT IS EVEN THE POINT OF IT ALL!?

I'm seriously baffled why Gabe's current plan requires Adrien to be away in a different country "to be safe," because it's not as if Adrien being safe has ever fucking factored into any of his plans prior to now!!!

And.... they kiss. Now. On the entryway to a plane, after WHO KNOWS HOW FUCKING LONG of teasing this bullshit. Also, HOW THE FUCK IS THE GORILLA AND A GROWN MAN STRUGGLING TO SEPARATE TWO FUCKING TEENAGERS!?!?

Now we are at the moment Chloe tries to tell Marinette the truth to hurt her, and it ends in Chloe crying alone on the plane when Marinette shuts her down by revealing she already knows (too late) and that she's fed up with Chloe's bullshit, despite having already said that in Season 1, and the entire thing ends on Lila trying to pry open the laptop she stole from Tomoe.

[shioritsumi]

I'm on a roll so how about more on Shang Qingshui (and maybe some concepts on Mobei-jun, or someone who looks suspiciously like him ;D)

-Shang Qingshui being related to Airplane is the most hilarious thing bc once he arrives in the modern world and finds PIDW he absolutely HATES it. The realization that the COUSIN of his new life wrote it, wrote how HE got killed by demons after being forced into the life of a double agent-he'd kill Airplane if he hadn't already randomly died from a freak computer accident.

-Qingshui was that asshole cousin to Airplane, but it had nothing to do with PIDW when they were kids. At that point the story hadn't been written, except in Qingshui's previous life, and he figured if it was good enough to get him Tianyu's friendship he didn't need to change his approach. Airplane wasn't his biggest fan growing up, but when his parents divorced he leaned on Qingshui more often not. If you need someone to bitch and complain to, even contribute to it over your situation, he's there. PLUS, sometimes Tianyu might be there too and he could count on him to be more traditionally supportive. (Tianyu might also roast him sometimes, but he was always good at aftercare, so to speak.)

-Shang Qingshui did his solid best to avoid reading PIDW, even as Shen Tianyu referred to his younger brother as being obsessed with it. ("I bought him some weird-ass uhhhh expensive figure of some busty demon guy for his birthday. Don't tell me I'm being weird, Miaoyu bought him a goddamn body pillow and he was overjoyed." "Your brother is a grown-ass man, A-yu....and what do you mean busty GUY? Don't shrug at me, what do you MEAN?") He narrowed that down to two people from his previous life, but it had to be a coincidence, right? He almost threw his tablet out the window of their office building once he found the series and realized it's LITERALLY THE STORY OF HIS PAST LIFE. HIS DEATH IS EVEN IN HERE. WHO WROTE THIS SHIT, WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR HIS SUFFERING AND THEN MAKING BANK OFF MERCHANDISING IT?!

....oh it's his cousin. His aunt wouldn't...terribly maim him for injuring her son, would she?

-Mo Tuxuan is the CEO of a rival company, bearing a striking resemblance to Mobei-jun, and causing Shang Qingshui to automatically avoid him. This has, unfortunately, caused him to stand out in Tuxuan's head and now he's becoming very preoccupied with the business accounts manager. He's even asked Qingshui's bosses what would be necessary to transfer him to his own company. Shen Tianyu isn't sure if he's seeing a rival CEO attempt to poach a successful employee, or a dumbass attempt to court another dumbass.

-if Mo Tuxuan isn't literally Mobei-jun, he's the closest thing in real life to him. And if he is Mobei-jun....he's adjusted very well to modern life. He's drawn to Shang Qinghua all over again, but he isn't sure why. He doesn't even know it's Shang Qinghua, it's Shang Qingshui-a man who's good at his job, and has a suitably sharp tongue and a firm spine to stand up to even people several ranks above him and an ambitious mind. He could use a man like that. How he'd use him is uncertain, but Tuxuan could definitely....use him.

-Mo Tuxuan asking Bingge for advice on catching a businessman and Bingge being confused bc he didn't "catch" or "seduce" Tianyu. Unless you count the way he literally had to catch a drunk Tianyu that first night they met bc he was sloshed. And most of the overt romantic moves were made by Tianyu afterwards. (Bingge may have had a hundred wives, but he's not sure on how to seduce men and Tianyu is.) Tuxuan is a little disappointed. "I was hoping you could help; you and Manager Shen seem so close." "....we live together, that's logical."

And Shen Tianyu is STILL uncertain if Tuxuan is trying to poach or seduce Qingshui. He's not going to help either of them out, he's just enjoying the show.

[llamasofchaos]

Mysterious Benedict Society book headcannons

-reynie-

Likes to collect random knick knacks and decorations, he put them in his room and then when he gets his office he starts putting them in there. His office reminds Constance of Mr. Benedict's office because he doesn't have a ton of personal stuff but what he does have has a deep meaning to him.

Literally Constance's favorite person to cuddle with. He sleeps on his side and barely moves during his sleep so he is the perfect person to cuddle up with after a nightmare. Constance decides this are being launched out of bed by a still comatose Kate weatherall and woken up by a very twitchy Sticky who wouldn't stop fidgeting even in his sleep. Constance loves to cuddle up with Reynie whenever he lets her.

One of Reynie's closes confident is Miss Perminal aka Amma. They were close when she was his tutor and after being adopted they become even closer. He spends a lot of time chatting with her in Tamil. He also loves his grandmother who thinks he is the smartest person ever and she is his favorite person to have a cup of tea and gossip sesh with.

-constance-

Reads every single book on poetry Mr. Benedict had and then getting upset when he buys her more. (she is actually very flattered she just doesn't know how to express that.

Has only gone to see Curtain in prison twice. The first time was when he was first locked up. The second time was for Mr. Benedict's birthday and she ended up writing two pieces of poetry. One to celebrate Mr. B and the other to insult Curtain, his intelligence, his plans, and his taste in fashion. Mr. Benedict laughed for hours and it was reported that Curtain passed out from rage until early the next morning.

She misses sharing a room with Kate, sometimes she will force the kids to have a meeting in her room simply because she knows Kate will clean up her room and it reminds her of when they were roommates.

-sticky-

Reads everything in Mr. Benedicts house about three months after the third book. He loved finding new things to read and so to surprise him Reynie will request new books from town and will shelve then random places for sticky to find. Sticky figures this out after Kate starts helping hide the books and is painfully obvious about it but he doesn't admit it.

Rhonda and Sticky become quite close and he often confides in her with things he doesn't want to tell the other members of the society. In return she tells him stories of her childhood and meeting Mr. Benedict and Number one.

He likes to sneak tools into Kate's bucket to surprise her. He gave her a magnifying glass combined with a compass. She loves these gifts and crushes him with her hugs everytime she gets something new.

Kate & Milligan

They have the same smile. Milligan often wonders if he would have remembered sooner if he had seen her preform in the circus or something else because he doesn't know how he forgot her smile.

Kate worries a lot of her friends. She won't admit it but she sometimes feels like she could burst with the panic she feels at the thought of losing them. after their adventures her worries decreases but she can't help but hover sometimes.

Kate sets traps for Milligan, his only rule about her traps is that they cannot ruin clothing or hurt anyone. She responds in full by setting tripwires connected to cameras with bright flashes, (getting some amusing pictures of shocked people) and by hanging loose nets to drape over anyone who steps on the wrong stair.(she changes what stair is the wrong one daily even if the trap isn't tripped.)

She still practices some of her old tricks with Moocho's help. She has him throw her in the air so she can do flips.

[fromthedeskoftheraven]

Please tell me what you can about Break my Baby. I love a good Max.

Adira, my dear(a) 💖

This idea has had me in a chokehold for literal years but I've just never gotten serious about writing it. The gist is that Max sweet-talks his assistant into going to a corporate retreat with him, where forced-proximity shenanigans and budding attraction ensue. BUT on the way home they're in a car accident and the assistant is mortally wounded, so Max has to make the quick decision to turn her instead of letting her die. They navigate her new vamp life together and (of course) end up in fluffy eternal love.

A little piece of a scene under the cut (tbh I don't know why it's in first person. the muse wants what it wants):

***

Max looks up from his desk with a dazzling smile when I walk into his office juggling his coffee and mine along with my purse and laptop bag.

"There's my favorite little juice box."

"Stop calling me that, it was one time. When you were allegedly at... undeath's door."

He gives an exaggerated frown, swallowing a swig of the black coffee I’ve unloaded onto his desk. "Allegedly? Sunshine, you wound me."

"Don't tempt me. Home Depot has stakes, you know."

"Speaking of steaks, have dinner with me tonight."

"No, thank you."

"You work too hard. You deserve a nice meal, a glass of wine. Creme brulee for dessert."

The thought trickles through my mind, syrupy and comforting and a little fuzzy around the edges, like a drop of warm honey.

It has been a long day, and I am hungry, and that place two blocks over does an amazing creme brulee.

And Max isn't that bad, after all, and he'll be on his best behav—

Wait a minute.

I feel like I’m moving in slow motion as I dig my fingers into the tender flesh of my tricep and pinch, like my sister used to do when we’d fight as kids. The sudden clarity makes me shake my head.

"Really, Max?"

He only shrugs. "What am I supposed to do? You're no fun."

"You don't pay me enough to be fun."

"Well, let me get the paperwork to HR and I’ll call for a reservation."

"If there's nothing else, I have emails to answer," I say, turning toward the door.

"Oh, yeah." Max starts flicking through papers on his desk. "There's that thing this weekend, I need you to go with me."

I blink. "The thing? What thing?"

"You know..." He waves one hand in a distracted circle. "The thing for the company."

"No, I don’t know. Mind-reading is supposed to be your thing."

"I've told you, I can't read minds. This," he says, fishing a brochure out of the pile. "The sales managers' annual retreat."

"In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not a sales manager. And I have plans this weekend."

Binge-watching the Great British Bake Off over takeout absolutely counts as plans.

"Cancel 'em. I need my trusty assistant, gotta impress corporate with how organized and efficient I am."

"You mean, how organized and efficient I am," I counter. "Again, plans."

“Just look at the brochure.” Max shifts tactics to turn the puppy-dog eyes up to eleven. “An all-expense-paid weekend at an exclusive resort upstate, how can you say no to that? You do work too hard, you know.” 

Begrudgingly, I open the glossy brochure he’s shoved into my hands. Rolling green hills surround a hotel that looks like a French chateau. Smiling people are playing golf, swimming in a massive indoor pool, relaxing in a sauna, clinking champagne glasses in a gold-trimmed dining room. A bed as big as my studio apartment is dressed in crisp white linens, with mints on the pillows.

Binging the Great British Bake-Off in a free fancy hotel room wouldn’t be too bad, as plans go.

I look back to Max, watching me expectantly. “You drive and pay for gas,” I start.

Victory sparks in his dark eyes. “Fair enough.”

“During free time, I get to do whatever I want. No meetings, no spreadsheets, no fetching extra ice for your drink.”

“You won’t even know I’m there.” He lays a hand over his lifeless heart like he’s taking an oath of office or something.

This is going better than I expected. Might as well shoot for the moon.

“And I get a clothing allowance. I don’t have any resortwear.”

“You need any help shopping? I drove past the mall the other day, and Victoria’s Secret had this little red number in the window—”

“What do you think?” I ask dryly.

A grin dimples his cheek. “You drive a hard bargain, Sunshine. Deal.”

“Seriously?”

“Eh, why not? I’ll expense everything, anyway. Just have to get creative with the codes.”

This is probably a mistake. 

Best-case scenario, I’ll have stories to tell at cocktail parties. If I’m ever invited to one, that is. Worst case, I end up in prison for staking my boss.

“Fine,” I sigh. “What time are we leaving?”

“I’ll pick you up at 7:30 sharp on Friday morning. Can’t miss the welcome breakfast,” Max says cheerfully.

“Your turn to bring my coffee, then. I want a—”

“Decaf caramel latte with almond milk, extra whip. I know.”

I frown. “Yeah. That.” 

“Well, don’t let me keep you. Those emails won’t answer themselves, am I right?” Max dismisses me with a wink and a flourish of finger guns.

Finger guns.

After two years of working for Max, my eye roll is a reflex. He’s so corny, it distracts me from the weirdness of the most self-focused person I know paying attention to my coffee order.

***

Thank you for asking!