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unreliablesnake · 4 months

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Tough choice (Simon Riley x reader)

Summary: After a successful mission, you get a lot of job offers. But there's one that gets your attention.

Note: We lost a hero, it's hard to fill his shoes. / This will probably get another part where Simon confesses his feelings. And tells the reader about what he thought of them during the first meeting.

Warnings: character death mentioned

Ever since that mission last year, people have been extremely interested in getting you on their side. You were swimming in options, going from briefing to briefing to find that one job which managed to pique your interest. The CIA wanted you higher up the ladder, giving you more responsibilities, while some PMC’s sniffed out what happened and were now trying to sweep you off your feet. Shadow Company offered a fortune for your services, but even Phillip Graves’s charm wasn’t enough to convince you.

And now Laswell brought you an opportunity that made you think. Task force 141. “Ask Alex for reference,” was all she said before handing you the number of Captain John Price.

It took days to get a hold of your friend, but once you did, he spoke highly of the team he helped out every now and then. “I think they need you to fill some big shoes. A sergeant was KIA and now Ghost needs a partner on the field,” he explained.

“Ghost?”

“Mhm. Man’s a mystery, but he’s damn good at what he does. If I were you, I would go for it.”

So you called Price and organized a meeting with him. This was the first round of the interview process, the opportunity to learn more about your possible future boss, the team, and, of course, how they operate. The captain works with a sergeant called Gaz, while Ghost had worked with Soap, another sergeant who had been KIA. That latter you already knew from Alex.

Price told you to visit the base the next time they're all there, and you gladly accepted the invitation. The team’s mystery man, the one you would have to work with, grabbed your attention. His superior spoke highly of him, and the fact Alex also emphasized that he was excellent at what he did made you curious. He certainly lived up to his call sign by keeping his identity so hidden. You didn’t know his name, you didn’t know his age, you didn’t know what he looked like. All you knew is that he was a Brit, just like Price and Gaz.

It took your schedules to align almost four weeks, but eventually you made it to their location and were greeted by the captain as if you were already a member of their team. His warm smile brought one to your lips too, and you soon found yourselves deep in a conversation about Kate and Alex. He liked working with them, and despite Alex being labeled a deserter, the team often crossed paths with him. That was good. Meeting him every once in a while would be nice.

“Ghost is waiting for us in my office,” Price began to say, only to pause for a brief moment when he stopped in front of a door. “But I think I’ll give you two the chance to talk alone. I already told him about you, even mentioned that I want you to work with us, but he has to be the one to finalize our decision.”

Nodding, you waited for him to open the door, then stepped inside the dimly lit room. The window shades were pulled down and the only source of light came from the small lamp on the desk. Ghost was sitting in the swivel chair behind it, his eyes scanning a file that you assumed was yours.

You opened your mouth to say something, but Ghost interrupted you right away. “I want you on my team,” he stated sternly as if it was an order, then threw the file on the top of several other documents.

Despite your best efforts to keep things professional, a snort coming from you filled the room upon hearing his words. “So does everybody else,” you informed him, slowly folding your arms over your chest. “I already turned down several offers. Convince me; why should I pick this team?”

The lieutenant stood up and walked over to you, finally letting you realize just how much bigger he was. He was intimidating, yes, but that didn’t stop you from keeping eye contact with him. “You know Laswell. If you trust her, you can trust us,” he said.

“It’s not a matter of trust.”

“Then what do you want to hear?”

A sigh left your lips. It wasn’t about the money. If it was, you would be working for Shadow Company now. To be honest, you didn’t even know what you wanted from the job. But there was one question that bugged you since you first heard about this guy. “Are you a good person?” you asked him seriously.

Since you could only see a small part of his face, you almost missed that surprised glint in his eyes. “No,” came his answer.

For a few moments you just watched him, thinking about his response. He was honest, that you truly appreciated, but you could hear something in his voice that you couldn’t quite place yet. Regret? Pain? Doubt? Self-hate? Whatever it was, it made him sound and look human. Without realizing what you were doing, you took a step closer to him, making this giant man lean his hips against the desk to build back some distance.

“When can I start?”

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed the way his large fingers tightly gripped the edge of the desk at your words, as if he was trying to ground himself. Was he thinking about the sergeant he had lost? If it was you, your mind would always return to the person who died under your command. What if this one dies too? You would be asking yourself this over and over again. So you didn’t want to rush him, you just stood there and waited for him to pull himself together.

And then, after several minutes of deafening silence, he finally spoke up. “Good decision. Price will tell you the details,” Ghost informed you before moving past you to rush out the door.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #modern warfare #call of duty #mw3 #mw2

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angel-of-the-moons · 7 months

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When you get the chance do you think you could write a Miguel x chubbyF!reader ?

(It's my first time requesting and I wanted to try and give like an idea of it)

Miguel saw the reader in the library and she caught his eye and he went on about what he was doing until he grabbed the same book as her and it just happened to be both of their favorite books and they ended up talking about it and maybe going to a coffee shop after?

The Very Grumpy Spider

Miguel x Chubby/Curvy!Fem!Reader

TW/CW: None

Taglist: @tojishugetiddies

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

Miguel was hiding away from the world in the most unlikely of places. It wasn't his home, or his darkened office at HQ, or the labs at Alchemax.

No, it was the library. It hardly had any foot traffic, and the libraries of the world were quickly becoming obsolete with their actual paper books in favor of all the digital files you could simply download online these days.

Which is why it was perfect for him to hide in.

It was quiet, almost no people, and his favorite reading nook had the comfiest chairs. Hell, sometimes he'd sit in the bean bag chairs and nod off a bit.

Today he was browsing the shelves labeled "Classics -- Science Fiction".

His large fingers drummed on the spines of each book as he weighed the decision of which one to read, his glasses perched low on his nose. It seemed silly, that someone who has superpowers would like something as simple as science fiction, but these books were a big escape from the abuse he and his little brother were witness (and in many cases victim) to.

It was also the library he'd run off to back then, too.

It was a sanctuary, a sweet, private Sanctuary.

Miguel was so warped in his thoughts that he didn't notice somebody was now standing right next to him.

Not until a small hand reached out and they both touched the spine of the same book.

An omnibus of sorts containing all the stories of a series called "Dinotopia" by an author named James Gurney, a little over a hundred or so years ago. Miguel as a child had silly fantasies of finding such a place and now the stories were a source of great comfort when the stress of his life became a bit too hard.

"Oh! Sorry!" You say, awkwardly snatching your hand back. "I... Er. Didn't know that anybody else liked... uh, nevermind."

You were... cute. Not obnoxiously made-up like many of the women he's met; you were very minimal makeup and he could even see a few blemishes here and there.

Your body was not rail thin--again, like most women he's known--you were soft, your clothes hugged your body in a way that showed that you had little rolls that spilled over the top of your jeans, your legs and arms a bit on the thicker side, and your round little face definitely set you apart.

And Miguel found himself quickly liking the sight.

He lowered his hand and shook his head with a soft chuckle, "Ah, no, it's alright. I'm surprised anybody even knows these books exist."

You smiled sheepishly up at him, dimples in your soft cheeks as you did. "Yeah... My grandpa used to read these to me when I was little. It's hard to find them nowadays and the copies I had got ruined when my apartment flooded..."

"I used to read them as a kid, myself." Miguel smiled at you as he plucked the book off the shelf, looking at the illustrated cover; protected by a dust jacket but the cover was faded with time, the pages slightly yellowed.

"They were a nice escape."

"Oh! Yeah... They--they are." You say as you watched him turn the book over in his massive hands. Hell, they were so goddamn big that the thick volume looked like a tiny booklet. And oh, did you try to ignore how strong they looked.

Miguel sighed and held the book out to you, "Here. Far be it from me to keep someone from reading a favorite, huh?"

You held your hands up, waving then a bit. "Oh! No, no, um... It's okay. You can read it."

You both stood there, blinking at each other in an awkward silence.

Until you both broke out into soft laughter and Miguel lowered his hand that still clutched the book.

"...We're just going to go back and forth about this, aren't we?" He asked.

"... Probably." You giggled, rubbing the back of your neck.

There was another pause, until you decided to break it.

"Um... well. We can... Talk about it?"

When he tilted his head at you with raised eyes you felt yourself flush. "I--! Well, I just mean that, um... Er. It's unusual to find anybody that knows about that series because it's so old, so, I mean..."

He laughed again, and god, did it sound wonderful as it tumbled out of his lips. He fixed his dark eyes on you and smiled. "Sure. I don't have anywhere to be for the rest of the day."

You swore you could see that his eyes glimmered a different color as he spoke, and your heart slipped a beat.

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

You and Miguel chatted for what must have been close to three hours. You'd even gotten so close as to read the book together; or, well, a few of the stories in it here and there.

You guys had sat so close you could smell his cologne and aftershave.

Meanwhile Miguel could smell your sweet, cherry-like perfume. Hell, he could even smell your lip balm (it had notes of honey) thanks to his super senses.

He loved watching you move, he would often take his eyes from the pages to scan your form, looking at how soft and plush you were. He had the most intrusive thoughts about laying his head in your lap and just letting you run your fingers through his hair as you read the book aloud to him.

Oh, your thighs looked like perfect napping pillows...

He was gorgeous, and he found you absolutely beautiful. You were cute, funny, and quirky, whereas you found him intelligent, witty and kind when he spoke to you.

Something beeped on Miguel's watch and when he looked at it, he grunted. Lyla was asking him when he was going to just ask you out, because apparently she'd been eavesdropping covertly through his watch.

Yeah, it had been hours.

"Is that, um... A call you need to take?" You ask hesitantly.

"No, it's just my assistant checking on me." He turned it off and lowered his wrist, smiling again at you, and he felt something gnaw in his stomach when he saw your hopeful expression.

Fuck it.

"Hey... Would you like to get a coffee?" He finally asked you directly.

And oh, the little error-code face you made was just precious.

"Oh!" You shake your head softly, and smile up at him again. "Sure! I--I mean that is I'm okay with with that, and... uh."

Miguel stood, the book once again in his palm and he extended his hand to you politely to help you out of your seat.

Witty and chivalrous. It made you positively weak in the knees!

"But, um... are you sure?" You ask, following him to the check out counter.

He smiled at you over his shoulder, waving the book.

"Of course. After all, how else are we supposed to finish reading this together?"

#🌙 answered #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #miguel x you #miguel ohara #across the spiderverse

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echoeternally · 4 months

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I think this is the missing fan art from Chapter 25 of my Mario fanfic? Kinda browsed my files quickly and this was under a gift folder.

The artist was previously known as "solublix" on Twitter, but they left, so now I'm not sure if this is the right one or not.

If anyone happens to know about them or if I've got the wrong artist, would you mind updating me? I'd like to put this in the fanfic if it was art for the story, but if it's not (or if I have the artist wrong), then I'll need to re-credit this and try again.

This won't appear in the story unless I can confirm it as art for the fanfic, but I'll keep this post for the time being, in case that artist returns or this is discovered elsewhere.

Oh, I'll also take this down entirely if the artist would prefer that as well! It's a nice piece, but if they'd rather not be online anymore and want all of their work removed, I can do that too.

(Obviously, not my art, since I can't draw, lmao)

UPDATE: The first pic is a gift art from @batidoflan that they gifted to me! And I'm pretty much a dumb one lol

Not the missing art/artist, but, that's ok! It's a lovely piece that I can look at again.

UPDATE 2: I have no idea what art I've found now, and it's in a folder labeled for ENY, so now I'm more confused with where it goes...or if it's even meant for the fanfic? (I did try reverse image search, and that doesn't even show Mario in the results, lol)

#bowser #mario #bowsario #art by #batidoflan #super mario bros #source unknown

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

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Drawn Together 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, obsession, intimidation, and other dark elements.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You wring your hands as you watch Steve drift along the other wall. The white tee shirt makes the ink on his arms seem starker as he has a thumb hook in his jean pocket, the other reaching to take an oval frame from the console table.

You squeeze your fingers tight, until they might crack, then release the tension along with your breath. He sets the picture back down and stands straight, looking around emphatically.

“Nice place,” he remarks as he faces you, “lots of space for you… and your… boyfriend?”

You watch him dully, “it’s nice.”

He is unfazed by your blunt deflection, “these old century townhouses, there’s not many of those left. I remember my mother lived in one. A few streets away.” He nears you and you brace yourself. He angles his arm towards you and shows you a banner that reads, ‘Brooklyn strong’.

“Oh, that’s very nice,” you lean back on your heel and pivot. “We should probably get started, we’re already behind.”

“You’re from Brooklyn too?” He asks as he goes to the bench.

“Grandparents lived here. They left me the place.” You take out a folder, the typical package you have ready for beginners, “we’ll start by tracing your hands.”

“Alright,” he stands close as you open the folder on the back of the piano. You turn and pluck a pencil from the jar on the shelf.

“It’s just… an exercise,” you explain as you hand him the pencil, “trace left then right and label them left and right.”

“Oh, wow,” he accepts the pencil, “this feels like grade school.”

“Hmm, well, yeah, my students are typically younger… my older students have a little more experience.”

“No, no, I’m excited,” he says as he spreads out his hand on the paper. His hand is huge.

You spin again and slip out another looseleaf and hand it over, “for your other hand.”

You set it down on the polished wood and he thanks you quietly as he focuses on following the outline of his long fingers. Looking at his hand makes you feel tiny. Your eyes scan the small stars on each knuckle, red, white, and blue. The ring finger is untouched.

He finishes the exercise and you go over the five-finger system with him. It feels so ridiculous. He’s not a child but you find it simple and easy. When you have that all done, you fold up the file and put it aside.

“Sit,” you gesture to the upholstery.

He obeys, looking down at the keys as he rests his hands on his jeans. You think about grabbing a stool as you consider the limited expanse left beside him. You can fit. You lower yourself and hit a key.

“We’ll go over the musical alphabet now, low to high.”

You sense his gaze, intent on you as you go through the usual introduction. You pause and have him repeat what you just did on the keys. He does it slowly as his arm presses to yours.

“Now from middle C,” you instruct and demonstrate. “You want your hands at middle C.” You raise your hands, “left: F-G-A-B-C, right: C-D-E-F-G. Thumbs together.”

“Right,” he does exactly as you say. He has good form as he keeps his hands on the keys but not heavy.

“Good,” you get up and take the metal TV tray from the small rack tucked beside the shelf. You unfold one and bring it around to his elbow. Your grandfather always had one open beside his leather chair. The paint shows the wear. “Now, we will go through a warm up and have you write it out.”

“Okay,” he watches you. His blue eyes are so brilliant and intense. You realise, he’s been looking at you for longer than you knew. You take the folder and open it up again. “I appreciate the patience.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry,” you spread out a blank sheet, “you’re much less fidgety than a six-year old.”

“I hope so,” he chuckles.

“So, our goal by the end is for you to play one song. Does that sound good?”

“A whole song?” He echoes, “uh, yeah, I can do that.”

“Nothing too complicated,” you turn the folder to him and put the pencil across it, “so as we learn, we’ll write down what we play and this will help you learn to read music.”

“Right, let’s do the spider song as our warm-up,” you stand beside the piano. You can’t bear to sit next to him, not as you feel the sweat still speckling on your neck and beading under your hairline.

“Spider song?” He grins, “that’d be a good tat, huh? A spider?”

“Um, I guess, I…”

“You’re not spider girl, though,” he says, “flowers.” He glances over at the window sill then back to you. His eyes descend slowly and you struggle not to wilt. You feel like he’s looking right through you, “poppies.”

You nod and shift your feet closer together, “I appreciate the simplicity.”

“Ha, I can never keep a plant alive,” he snorts, “you must just have that gentle touch that helps them thrive.”

“Well, um, I think we should get started,” you cross your arms and stride behind him, going to the other side of the piano. “Middle C.”

🎹

The lesson is as successful as any other. You stand at the corner of the piano as Steve keys out Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. He hits the last note with the same pride shown by the bouncing seven-year olds that perch in that very spot daily.

“Great. You got your first song,” you say, “there’s a print-out in the folder,” you point beyond him, “it shows the keys, I know it’s not the same but it’s a good way to practice position. You can use that if you want to practice between lessons.”

“Between lessons,” he pulls his hands into his lap, “does that mean I passed? I get to come back?”

“That’s up to you. If you really want to learn, you’re going to need to keep at it. Older students tend to take a little longer. Um, sorry, not to… I hope that isn’t insulting.”

“Nope,” he claps his legs and turns, standing from the bench. He pushes his head side to side and cracks his neck, “I’ve always needed a little extra love, you know? I can be a bit bullheaded. Sam says I got a thick skull.”

You know he’s trying to be friendly. There’s just something off. You still can’t believe he’s really there or that you let him in. To that point, you’ve been going through a routine, letting the steps guide you through. Now, you’re at a loss. There is no parent coming to usher him out of your home.

“I got the fee,” he reaches in his back pocket and pulls out his wallet, “I guess I should’ve paid at the start.”

“No, uh, that’s fine,” you eke out.

“So uh, same time next week? Do you think maybe I could come back sooner?”

“Um, I’d have to look at my schedule. I’ll call–”

He holds out several bills and you accept them quietly. You always find the payment is awkward, even if it’s the whole point. You are offering a service, you deserve everything you earn.

“Great, I’ll keep my phone close.”

The silence rises to strangle you. You peer around, grasping the bills tightly. What do you say to make him go? It’ll be easier to tell him you’re at capacity over the phone but you can’t then. Not to his face.

“You know, I still didn’t get a good look at your piece. Do you mind?”

“What?” You look at him.

“Your ink,” he nods at your feet, “do you mind if–”

He doesn't finish his question as he bends to look at your legs. You sway uncertainly and turn, pointing your toe to present your ankle to him. You don’t know what else to do. He examines it and you wince as he reaches to touch the skin beside it.

“Sam’s a talented guy,” he drags his fingertips away and stands, “helps when you have a great canvas. It suits you, sweetheart.”

Your brows rise as you gape at him. You quickly snap your mouth shut and fold your hands together. Your heart is pulsing behind your ears. You need him gone. This is your space and he’s intruded for long enough. The lesson is over.

“Don’t forget your folder,” you flit away from him and fold up the file, “here.” You face him again and push it against his chest, “I have to clean up for my next lesson.”

“Clean– this place is immaculate,” he looks around as he clutches the folder by the edges, “I don’t think–”

“Please, I have a lesson to prepare. Don’t forget to practice.”

You take a step back as he gazes at you. Unmoving. You might be telling him to go but it’s entirely his decision. Your nerves ping at the thought that you could not make him go. That if he stays long enough, he’ll realise your lie. Your excuse. He is your only lesson that day.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he relents at last as he tucks the folder under his arm, “see ya next week.”

You’re paralysed as you watch him cross the room. He disappears down the stairs and you listen to the creak of each step. At the bottom, you hear him shuffling around and when you find the courage to go look down, the door closes behind him.

You hurry down the stairs and quickly twist the lock. You let out your breath and lean into the wind as you let out a shuddery breath. His scent lingers. You’ll have to open some windows and light some incense. Hopefully, you can forget all about him.

#drawn together #tattoo au #steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #series #au #mcu #marvel #captain america #falcon #sam wilson

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rockingrobin69 · 8 months

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Trouble

“Malfoy.”

With that smile and that hair and that smile. Coming in hot with two plastic cups, one held out like a shield. Draco was in trouble. “For you. Should still be hot, I hope.”

“What…” warily crossing his arms.

“It’s coffee. Pumpkin spice, two sugars. You seem like you’re ready to scream, and I know you can’t survive without your daily dosage.”

Potter’s eyes were so wide. So Potter, so green. Distracting and terrible. Did Draco mention that smile? The hesitant line, thin and curved deep. “My daily dosage?”

“You normally drink at least four. Only saw you with three today, so I thought…”

Was he blushing? Honestly. Trying to destroy Draco good and proper. “You… I’m sorry. I must be mistaken, but it sounds as though you count the number of coffees I have a day. Which, I know is mad. Seeing as you work in an entirely different department, and—and that it’d be mad.”

“It’s not like that,” Potter said, eyes wide with terror, so green, so fuck, “we do share a kitchenette, so… it’s not that mad. I don’t go out of my way to… c’mon, Malfoy. We notice each other. You know that.”

Notice each other. What a nice, neat, insufficient label. How very Potter of him to under-verbalise years of animosity, then of resignation, then a budding working relationship, then—apparently, this. Bringing each other coffee in the middle of the day. Oh, fuck, was it really five? He was so behind on those files.

“I—” looked up and gulped a little miserably. Potter was very close and very, well, himself. “Thank you. For the coffee. But I really must get on with all this.” Gesturing flatly at the desk laden with paperwork. “Bloody Robards and his,” swallowed the rest. Really unprofessional and also, also, just, maybe shut up? Thank you.

“Yeah, fuck him,” Potter grinned. The whole thing was entirely nonsensical. Draco’s mouth didn’t get the memo and was stretching into a strange kind of grimace, pointy-upwards. “D’you need a hand?”

“A hand?” eyebrow rising helplessly. “You want to help me with paperwork?”

“Why not?”

Eyebrow rising higher. “You. Want to help me. With paperwork.”

“If it’d get you out of here faster—”

“We don’t even work in the same department,” so wildly out of his element he was shouting. Swallowed, swallowed, tried to ignore how handsome Potter was even when his face turned into this, imploring thing. “What? I don’t—what is even. Is this some sort of a joke?”

His mouth opened into a horrified ‘O’. “No! Not a joke. I really just wanted to help.”

Draco closed his eyes, prayed for some guidance. Had his little crush been so obvious that even Potter had to take pity? “I don’t need your help,” he said, as crisply as he possibly could.

“I know that. I just, er, suppose I wanted an excuse to come talk to you?”

“An excuse to come—” stopped, the mocking tone turning into something softer and a hell of a lot more confused. “An excuse to come talk to me?”

“Plus, you really needed your coffee fix.” With that devastating grin. “Come on, drink it up, and we can talk about all the rest later.”

“The rest?” his heart fluttered quite madly in his chest, insistent and inexplicable, like Potter’s gentle nod.

“Yeah. Get everything you need sorted, and maybe I could walk you to the train station when you’re done? So we could. Erm. Talk.” His lips were even more kissable when he pouted.

Draco agreed before he realised, before the words fully sunk in. “All right. We could… yes. Thank you.” Nothing made sense, aside perhaps for the look on Potter’s face, the amusement that became familiar, and a little spark Draco wasn’t brave enough to name. His eyes, gorgeous, his smile, worse, slightly more confident now and just as destructive.

“I’ll give you half an hour,” graciously. “There’s a café not too far from here. On the way to the station. Maybe we could…”

“Yes, yes, just, go, Potter,” running a hand over his eyes, trying for stable, coming up short.

“Malfoy,” he winked.

Draco was in trouble.

Oh, well.

(Flufftober day 20. Find the soft AO3 collection here).

#drarry fic #soft!#office au?#very obvious pining. very obviously #anon - this is all for you #flufftober2023 #prompt: pumpkin #700 words #rockingrobin69

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vmpiires · 3 months

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﹆₊ 画家‧₊˚ THE BLOOD PAINTER, KAMO CHOSO

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ﹆₊ 概要 ‧₊˚ art; it comes in many forms. even clothing. wc, 4.39K. dark mode recommended.

␥ note. i’m backkk. i got so caught up in writing one-shots that i almost forgot to do the series. so i’m here. hope ya enjoyyy. reblog to support meeee.

␥ tags. artist!choso, college AU, possible nsfw, female anatomy, smoking, reader has a motorcycle, etc. lmk if i missed anything

␥ misc. masterlist AO3 PART FIVE

finally, the much-anticipated friday had arrived, as the clock struck 12:15, choso let out a heavy sigh and pushed away from his cluttered desk. the familiar sound of the bell signaling the end of class echoed through the room, soon followed by the lively chatter of students as they filed out into the hallway. as he stepped out, the distinct smell of freshly cleaned carpets mixed with the mouth-watering aroma of takoyaki and ramen wafted towards him. his stomach grumbled in response, and he rolled his eyes at his hunger pangs.

as the male strolled gracefully down the hall, his footsteps echoing against the tiled floor, kashimo slung his arm over choso's broad shoulders. his face was lit up with a beaming grin that seemed to radiate energy. choso couldn't help but suppress a groan at the touch.

"what's with the frown?" kashimo asked, his voice laced with playful curiosity. "aren't you excited for tonight?" he continued; excitement evident in his tone as they made their way towards the bustling cafeteria.

"what day is it again?" choso rubbed his bleary eyes, his tiredness evident in the way he slumped in his chair. he had spent all night tending to his digital artwork and finishing up homework. kashimo nearly choked on his drink when he heard choso's question. the bags under his friend's eyes were deep and dark, a clear sign of exhaustion.

kashimo leaned in close, speaking in hushed tones. "you know it's friday, right?" he reminded choso with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. "your date with you-know-who is tonight." he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing choso's eyes to widen with shock and surprise. suddenly, all traces of exhaustion seemed to vanish from choso's expression.

choso let out a frustrated sigh, his hand pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "damn it, i almost forgot," he muttered to himself. "i need to find something nice to wear and freshen myself up. i probably look like death right now." his thoughts drifted to his upcoming date and he suddenly felt self-conscious about his appearance. kashimo waved a dismissive hand, trying to calm choso’s nerves.

"relax, you have plenty of time. your date isn't until seven and its only noon now. take a nap, get dressed, and do whatever else you gotta to do. maybe even pick up some flowers for the lovely lady." choso only rolled his eyes at kashimo's teasing words but was grateful for his reassurance.

after a satisfying lunch, the two boys retreated to choso's dorm room, where they spent their time sifting through an impressive collection of clothing. like pages in a newspaper, choso pulled each hanger from the rack and tossed the garments onto his bed.

"wow, you must come from money," remarked kashimo, studying the designer labels and high-end fabrics of the clothing strewn across the bed. the beige sweater with a brown collar and sleeves underneath that caught his eye looked like it belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine. it was clear that choso had an eye for style and a wallet to match.

"i wouldn't say i'm wealthy in the traditional sense," choso replied with a hint of modesty, as he effortlessly pulled out a few pairs of designer boots. kashimo's expression shifted to one of disbelief as his eyes took in the luxurious footwear. he couldn't tell if choso was being humble or simply showcasing his affluent lifestyle.

"what’re you talking about? you have the largest room on campus, your wardrobe is filled with high-end fashion that could pay for my textbooks ten times over, you're top of the class, and you have an incredible talent for painting," kashimo exclaimed.

"you have everything. you don’t have to want for anything." the words tumbled out with a mix of admiration and envy, as kashimo couldn't help but feel a tinge of jealousy towards the male beside him.

choso chuckled humbly as he moved the pairs of boots closer to the bed, each one a work of art in its own right. they were made by the most prestigious fashion house in the world, a symbol of his wealth and status.

"the biggest room in the school? that's just because i got lucky with housing arrangements," choso replied nonchalantly, brushing off kashimo's words. "and these clothes and shoes? it's all just material possessions. it’s not like they define who i am." but even as he said this, a part of him couldn't help but feel proud of what he had achieved and acquired through hard work and determination.

a thoughtful look crossed kashimo's face as he sized up his friend. "you've got it all, man, i’m telling you. looks, brains, talent…what don't you have?" he couldn't help but feel envious of choso's seemingly perfect life. little did he know, beneath the surface, there were struggles and insecurities that even wealth and success couldn't erase.

choso simply shrugged, a slight smile playing on his lips. "my wealth is of no concern to me, and it shouldn't be to you either. you are just as worthy as i am, if not more so. i refuse to be lumped in with those spoiled assholes who strut around this place as if they own it." he gestured towards the crowd of students milling about the school grounds outside his window.

“i’d rather not be labeled as an entitled individual that kicks another down because of their casual way of life." choso's eyes glinted with determination and a hint of defiance. he refused to let his family's fortune define him or dictate how he treated others.

kashimo let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat. but then, as if on cue, a smile lit up his face. "let's forget all that," he chirped. "we have more important things to focus on, like finding the perfect outfit for you." his gaze fell upon a rack of clothes. he strode towards it with purpose.

"i think i already have an idea," he added, gesturing towards a sleek and stylish collared shirt on display. it caught the light just right, highlighting its delicate details and flattering cut. kashimo's keen sense of fashion was always reliable, and he knew this would be the ideal choice for his new friend.

choso inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling with each breath. "you have an idea?" he repeated dryly, his dark eyes following kashimo's outstretched finger as it pointed towards the shirt.

with a flick of his wrist and a wide, toothy grin that always made choso roll his eyes and groan, kashimo declared confidently, "yeah, yeah, we'll have you looking like a vogue model by the time we're done." his hands moved deftly, as if conducting an orchestra, as he waved them around in front of choso's face.

the sunlight glinted off the sharp planes of his cheekbones and highlighted the smattering of his blood mark across his nose. choso couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance mixed with fondness for his friend's over-the-top antics. but he knew deep down that kashimo was just trying to help him look his best for his upcoming date.

after a few moments, choso found himself meticulously adjusting the crisp collar and sleeves of his tailored top, the fabric hugging his figure perfectly. he paired it with formal pants in a deep coffee shade, complementing the beige sweater he wore underneath. the overall effect created a polished and put-together appearance.

kashimo's lips curled into a mischievous smirk as he lightly nudged choso. "well, you could pass for a model," he teased, his eyes flickering over choso's outfit. the male blushed, not expecting to be dressed in such a fashion so soon. "you're quite the handsome devil, choso." his words were laced with admiration and playfulness. choso's cheeks flushed deeply at the compliment.

"please don't say things like that," he murmured, trying to hide his bashful smile. "but thank you…i think." the soft breeze flowing through the window tousled his hair, adding an extra touch of dishevelment to his already dashing appearance.

placing his hands behind his head, kashimo's snicker broke through the quiet of the bedroom. choso shifted his weight, crossing his arms over his chest as he felt the tips of his ears grow warm with embarrassment. fidgeting with his fingers, he tried to push away the teasing.

"aw come on, choso. your lady friend would definitely approve," kashimo taunted, his laughter now booming in the open space around them.

choso's cheeks grew even redder as he found himself growing more uncomfortable. "can we please stop talking about this?" he pleaded, desperately wishing he could escape this conversation and the teasing that came with it. "and shouldn’t you be saving these comments for hakari, not me?"

kashimo's smirk faltered slightly at choso's words, hints of embarrassment creeping into his expression. "hey, it’s not like he's not my boyfriend or anything," he muttered, trying to brush off the earlier comment.

choso couldn't help but roll his eyes at kashimo's attempt to downplay their relationship. as much as kashimo denied it, everyone knew there was something more between them than just friends. but for now, choso was content with keeping their dynamic as it was - friends who teased each other mercilessly.

"right," choso muttered, his dark eyes flickering with curiosity. "so, what happened the other night with you and hakari, if i may ask? did you two have fun?"

kashimo exhaled slowly, his cheeks flushing as he thought back to that unforgettable evening. "i mean…yes, we did have fun, but a couple things happened that i didn't expect."

choso could see the telltale sign of embarrassment in kashimo's blush. He could only imagine what had transpired between the two of them, causing such a reaction in kashimo. a small smile curled at the corners of his lips, wondering just how wild their night together must have been.

kashimo shifted uncomfortably, trying to find the words to explain his feelings about that night. but they eluded him, leaving him with a tangle of emotions that he couldn't quite put into words. nevertheless, one thing was for sure - it was a night he would never forget.

choso raised a skeptical brow at kashimo's wistful expression. "well, aren't you gonna tell me what happened?" he prodded with curiosity. "you seem like you're reminiscing about it."

kashimo was abruptly pulled from his reverie, caught off guard by choso's inquisitive tone. his lips pursed as he carefully considered how to explain the night's events. "i guess i could tell you," he began slowly. "it was a pretty nice night all around. we ate and drank a little, but then out of the blue, he asked me to give him my hand." a faint smile tugged at the corners of kashimo's mouth at the memory.

"i was confused as to why he wanted my hand, but i gave in anyway. we held hands for a while, just enjoying each other's company. and he had this silly grin on his face…" kashimo trailed off with a fond chuckle.

choso couldn't help but tease, "you didn't kiss, did you?" though his words were nonchalant, there was a hint of playful curiosity in his tone.

"stop," kashimo protested, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "it's not like that. we just held hands and…okay, we almost did but i got nervous." his words tumbled out in a rush, his eyes darting away from his teasing gaze. "but we're going to hang out again tonight," he continued, determined to prove that there was nothing more than friendship between them. "and i was thinking of having a double date soon since our situations are pretty similar."

choso chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. "damn, you're really soiling my plans," he joked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"well excuse me, mr. kamo," kashimo chuckled jovially, his eyes glinting mischievously. "i should've considered that you might've wanted some alone time with the pretty lady… hey, let's head out and get some flowers. that'd be a nice touch, right?"

"i suppose," choso exhaled, rubbing his temples wearily. "would you mind passing me my wallet? it's on the desk." he pointed over to the umber wood desk that held his notebooks and other school supplies. kashimo retrieved the wallet and couldn't resist taking a quick peek inside. among choso's id, dorm room keycard, and a small polaroid of him and his brothers, was a thick wad of cash.

"holy shit, man," kashimo exclaimed before choso could snatch the wallet from his hands. "you could literally buy the whole planet with this amount of money."

"i said give me the wallet, not snoop around," choso narrowed his eyes, an edge of annoyance in his tone. the stack of bills represented years of hard work and sacrifice for him and his siblings. he didn't want anyone else getting their hands on it, let alone stare at it.

as the clock struck seven, you carefully chose your outfit - a sleek black leather jacket and fitted jeans paired with a simple yet elegant blouse. your trusted harley davidson roared as you rode into the parking lot of the upscale restaurant that choso had chosen for your meeting. you removed your helmet and placed it on the bike seat before walking confidently into the building.

inside, the restaurant was bathed in a warm, dim light that enhanced the romantic atmosphere. the scent of scented candles and sizzling food filled the air as you made your way to the table that had been reserved for you and choso. when you spotted him, your heart skipped a beat at his appearance.

instead of his usual intimidating demeanor, choso looked more like a regular academia student with metal adorning his face. he wore a cozy-looking sweater and a purple scarf wrapped around his neck, giving off a sense of vulnerability. a bandage on the corner of his lip suggested that he may have been injured recently. an expensive-looking watch around his wrist. and instead of his signature ponytails, his hair fell freely around his face, some strands neatly tied into a ponytail.

you sat down on the opposite side of the table, unable to contain the soft smile that spread across your face. "hey, choso," you greeted him warmly. the sound of your voice made him look up at you, seemingly surprised that you had actually shown up regardless of whether it was planned or not.

choso's voice was gentle and hesitant as he spoke, a slight blush rising to his cheeks. "um…hi," he said, returning your smile with one of his own. he held something behind his back, and as he brought it forward, you saw that it was a bouquet of flowers. your heart skipped a beat at the sight of them.

"i brought you something," choso said, presenting the bouquet to you. each stem was carefully chosen and arranged, bursting with vibrant colors and delicate petals. you were not typically one to accept flowers as a gift, but these were too beautiful to resist.

you took the bouquet into your arms, feeling the softness of the petals against your skin. "wow," you chuckled in disbelief, admiring the intricate details of each flower. "these are really pretty…thank you." your eyes met choso's and you could see the sincerity and thoughtfulness in his expression. it made your heart swell with appreciation for this unexpected gesture of kindness.

choso nodded, a delicate pink hue blooming across his cheeks. "i'm…glad you like them," he stammered, his hand unconsciously smoothing out the creases in his scarf. "i was seriously struggling to decide which flowers would be best for you. i wasn't sure if i made the right choice."

you smiled warmly at him, taking the bouquet from his hands and inhaling the sweet scent of the blossoms. "no, it's okay," you reassured softly. "i love these flowers. no one has ever given me a bouquet before - let alone such beautiful ones like these. i can tell you put a lot of thought into this."

as always, your kind words had choso's heart fluttering and his chest feeling light as air. "well, i'm happy to be the first to give you such a gift," he replied, unable to contain the shy smile that spread across his face. "though now I'm starting to wonder if i should have just given you one of my paintings instead."

you shook your head gently. "whatever gift you came up with, i would’ve loved it," you assured him. "as long as it came from your heart and had some thought put into it, that's all that matters to me."

choso smiled softly, feeling a sense of confidence wash over him. after your simple conversation, the two of you finally sat down to order some delicious food and refreshing drinks. your conversations ranged from how your days had been to school-related topics like class projects and even delved into personal matters.

as the waiter placed your plates in front of you, choso couldn't resist taking a quick photo with his camera, capturing not only the mouth-watering food but also the charming interior of the restaurant.

"smile," choso said with a slight twitch at the corners of his lips. your eyebrows raised in surprise, but you quickly posed for the photo, revealing a flawless smile that made choso's heart skip a beat as he gazed at you through his camera lens.

the vibrant colors and warm atmosphere of the restaurant seemed to enhance your beauty, and choso couldn't help but feel grateful for this moment shared between the two of you.

with a contented smile on your face, you playfully plunged your fork into the steaming bowl of ramen, eagerly slurping up the tender noodles. across from you, choso calmly ate from his plate of shrimp tempura, occasionally watching you with an amused glint in his eyes.

"hey, let's do that thing they always do in the movies with the noodles," you suggested, holding up your fork and wiggling it playfully. a faint blush colored choso's cheeks as he caught on to what you were referring to, and he couldn't help but internally sigh at the thought. it wasn't that he didn't want to do anything romantic with you, but he was wary of how things might change between the two of you afterward.

"i suppose there's no harm in trying," choso said with a small smile, taking the other end of the noodle between his lips. you mirrored his actions, using the thin noodle as a playful tool to bring each other closer. as your lips were only a breath away from touching, you both paused for a moment, your hearts racing in anticipation.

finally, unable to resist any longer, you closed the distance between your lips and shared a brief but sweet kiss. the remaining noodle was quickly swallowed as your lips met, causing choso's eyes to widen in shock and surprise. his cheeks flushed a deep red, almost matching the crimson liquid slowly seeping out from his blood mark and onto the table.

feeling slightly embarrassed by his unusual reaction, choso hastily pulled away and chuckled nervously. "that's part of why i always keep it covered up," he admitted, trying to make light of the situation. but before he could apologize or explain further, he felt your gentle touch as you began wiping away the traces of blood on his cheeks with a napkin.

"it's okay," you reassured him softly, carefully folding the napkin to a cleaner side and continuing to clean his face. "does this happen often?" you asked, genuinely curious about choso's sudden bleeding.

choso nodded, his expression slightly sheepish. "usually when i'm….overstimulated," he admitted with a small smile. it wasn't a common occurrence, but it did happen from time to time, especially in moments like this when he was caught off guard by unexpected yet welcomed intimacy with someone he cared for deeply. "but i can also make it bleed at will."

the sound of your laughter filled the room as choso's cheeks flushed with embarrassment at your observation. "that explains why there isn't any red paint in your room. you use your own blood for art…i think that's so cool. but doesn't it hurt?" you asked, genuinely curious about his unique artistic process.

choso shook his head, a small smile on his lips. "no, not in the slightest." his mind seemed to go momentarily blank before he quickly changed the subject. "um…we should finish eating before the food gets cold."

you nodded, returning to your meal but unable to shake off your curiosity about choso's blood mark and how it worked. after dinner, the two of you left the restaurant and made your way back to your motorcycle. you eagerly held onto the bouquet of flowers as you mounted the vehicle and placed your helmet in your lap.

"well, i guess this is where we part ways for the night," choso said, his hand nervously fiddling with his scarf. you looked up at him and checked the time on his watch. despite the sun having set and the moon beginning to rise, the night was still young.

"come on, it's too early to call it a night. let's take a bike ride around shibuya for a bit," you pleaded, hoping to spend more time with choso. just as he was about to politely decline and suggest rescheduling for another day, he felt something stopping him from saying no.

"alright, but please don't drive too fast…i've never been on a motorcycle before," choso reluctantly agreed, surprising himself with his sudden change of heart.

you squealed in excitement and patted the padded seat before putting on your helmet. "you'll have to hold onto me unless you want to fly off," you advised quickly as choso settled himself onto the seat behind you.

"fly off?" choso repeated before you unexpectedly accelerated out of the parking lot, your harley roaring into the night. he inhaled sharply, feeling slightly scared as he instinctively wrapped his strong arms around your body and buried his face into your back. you couldn't help but smirk at your daring actions.

"please…slow down," choso's muffled and shaken voice pleaded from behind you, making you giggle mischievously.

·.⌇ bonus..

under the moonlit sky, you and choso sat on a wooden bench in front of a serene lake. the gentle breeze caused both of you to shiver, but the beauty of the setting made it worth it. as you watched the ripples of the water sway back and forth, you turned to look at choso beside you.

"i wanted to ask you something," you said softly. choso's head snapped over to face you, his eyebrows raised in anticipation.

"about?" he asked.

"you mentioned that you always keep your mark covered up. you said it was because of people's fear and judgment towards what you really are…but why does it worry you so much?" your question forced choso into a moment of silence as he pondered his response.

"i'm…" he let out a heavy sigh before continuing. "i'm not sure if you've noticed, but i'm not like other sorcerers or curses. i’m half curse, half human. my brother yuji is a sorcerer, while the other two are also curses. normally, humans can’t see curses, but because i am in this body, you can see me."

he glanced at you to confirm that you were still listening before revealing more. "i…um…i keep my blood mark covered because when i get overwhelmed or stressed, my face starts bleeding like i told you before. i'm just embarrassed about it. if people knew what i really was, they would probably be too scared to even look in my direction. people think curses are disgusting and unworthy of life; they are afraid of them. it's better that part of myself hidden and live as a human."

you placed a comforting hand on choso's thigh, gently rubbing it with your thumb. "but choso, i'm not scared of you at all. curse or not, i think you're one of the kindest and most genuine people i've ever met. i honestly thought your unique display of techniques was just your sorcery, but now i know the truth. my opinion of you will never change, i promise."

choso's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "really?" he asked incredulously. "i'm not disgusting or horrible to you?" you shook your head, a small smile quirking at the corners of your lips.

"not even close," you reassured him. "the most people will say about you is how annoyingly smart you are." you playfully teased him, making him chuckle.

"but in all seriousness, you're a genuinely good person, choso." with a tender gesture, you reached up and cupped his cheek, causing his cheeks to flush a light shade of red. as you leaned in to place a gentle kiss on his cheek, choso couldn't help but place his hand where your lips had just been.

"my face is going to start bleeding again," he muttered with a shy smile, clearly trying to hide his embarrassment.

with excitement bubbling in your chest, you quickly pulled choso's camera out of his bag and slung an arm over his shoulder, positioning the lens perfectly in front of you both. "smile, choso," you chimed with a grin, capturing the moment forever.

choso's eyebrows shot up in surprise at your quick movements, but he obliged and gave the camera his best smile as a bright flash illuminated the area and the sound of the photo printing echoed through the air.

as soon as the picture was fully developed, you eagerly removed it from the slot and examined it with satisfaction. "we look pretty damn good, don't we?" you commented, admiring how the lighting fell perfectly on both of you and the beautiful scenery around you.

"yeah, not bad at all," choso agreed as he gently took the photo from your hands and stowed it away with his camera in his bag. "that was actually the final picture i needed for my project."

"right, your scrapbook thing," you remembered with a smile as you rose from the bench. "shall we head back? i can help you put it together if you'd like."

choso's smile widened at your offer and he nodded eagerly. "i would love that."

⠀© vmpiires | like, reblog & follow.

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amazeingartist · 6 months

Text

09 soapghost fight (actual physical altercation)

ghost’s been in a mood all day, barking at everyone for not the first or last time. mactavish is trying hard to keep his cool, he read ghost’s file—whether it was authorised is another thing—so knows the man’s got issues but as good as mactavish is he’s no saint, he’s not some limitless well of boundless compassion and patience so when ghost gets up in his face (specifically) for the umpteenth time that day he barks back.

unsurprisingly ghost reacts, swings, and lands a solid punch to the jaw

mactavish stumbles back a bit and next thing he knows he’s being tackled to the ground. ghost keeps the upper hand on top of mactavish for a few seconds before the captain regains his bearings knocks ghost off. they’re tumbling in the dirt trying to lands whatever hits they can till mactavish kicks them apart and now on their feet, they start to fight properly. ghost’s reckless, overly aggressive but pointed in his blows. mactavish is forced to take a more defensive stance but read ghost’s moves exceptionally well and gets in a good couple winding hits

ghost staggers after a heavy punch to the sternum, mactavish takes the opportunity to grab ghost by the wrist and slams him into the ground hard on his back

mactavish is on top of ghost not a second later

his left foot pins ghost’s extended right arm while his right leg presses down onto ghost’s hips and thighs, right hand has ghost’s left arm in a death grip while his left pushes the lieutenant’s face right into the dirt

finally, ghost is subdued

they’re both panting from the exertion and pain, but despite it neither backs down. ghost tries to struggle against the hold but mactavish just drops more of his weight onto ghost’s abdomen. “fuck you mactavish, you wanker,” ghost spits through gritted teeth

“Sir” mactavish corrects. ghost’s only confused a second before the captain repeats himself, “it’s ‘fuck you mactavish, sir.’ won’t be telling you a third time lieutenant.”

now that ghost’s movement has been restricted, the adrenaline fades and his soreness become more apparent. he gives a last valiant effort to escape the hold before begrudgingly accepting the loss. mactavish does not move an inch however, only applying more weight as ghost remains trapped beneath him. the idea finally pops into his brain and ghost rolls his eyes

“fuck you mactavish… sir,” he relents

mactavish gives no reaction but removing himself from ghost so quickly it’s actually jostles the man. ghost’s body’s aches like a bitch but he rolls over without complaint, fighting to keep his breath even

“find me the next time you’re in such a pissy mood riley, will help ya burn that energy in the comfort of the gym on shock absorbent mats.” picking up the files dropped after ghost’s initial punch, mactavish continues on as if nothing happened

in my brain 09 ghost and soap fought a lot cause soap was the only one who could handle ghost’s shit, eventually the fights stops helping and soap ends up refusing which cause ghost to last out more to get a reaction but doesn’t work and then he breaks down and soap comforts him

and then ghost starts seeking out soap even though he has no idea what he wants or how to deal with himself so soap busies ghost with tasks that ghost only accepts cause it’s soap and soon they have a routine and then when soap has a bad day ghost’s there for him

and gets soap through it and then they start talking about emotions after like. 2 months into the arrangement and it’s awkward and stunted but productive nonetheless and over more time it becomes easier there’s still spats here and there but they’re not as destructive on both sides

and inevitably they share a night together which the next morning nearly sends back to the start but they suck it up and talk about it which ends way better than either except cause they’re both letting themselves have nice things and they don’t put a label on it but it is exclusive

and they fumble some more but now are too stubborn to allow for miscommunication to happen so it’s get sorted in record time and eventually ghost listens to mactavish recommend therapy and ghost only takes it cause he makes mactavish promise to take time off

I went really into these thoughts unexpectedly so I’m hoping they’re as tasty for y’all as they are me (ignore any errors)

#soapghost #ghostsoap #simon ghost riley #soap mactavish #captain mactavish

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cozylittleartblog · 5 months

Note

hey, so I'm trying to figure out what places would be good to sell my own art at, and I'm wondering- what has been your experience with selling on etsy? I've heard mixed reviews from people, and I want to know your perspective as an etsy seller.

etsy is not perfect but i think it gets a little more shit than it deserves, i've thought about opening my own website but generally i'm actually pretty okay with the services i get on etsy compared to what it costs so i'm just gonna make a subjective pros/cons list for you under the cut (because its loooong)

oh and if anyone else has experience selling on etsy and would like to add their two cents in the replies/reblogs please do!

Pros

⭐ The search function - this is etsy's biggest selling point. it already has a dedicated userbase of millions of people and a search feature to help them find your shop, which takes a lot of the load of marketing off your shoulders, and marketing is a huge factor for pushing sales. i am not good at marketing and a lot of my sales just come from people searching my stuff up lol

⭐ Purchase protection program - if USPS loses or damages your package, you file a missing package report and they confirm they don't know where it is, Etsy will refund your buyers order out of their own pocket (under $250). this is my favorite etsy feature because USPS likes to eat packages every now and again. delicious keychains. if you had your own storefront, you'd just have to replace the order yourself.

⭐ Share & Save program - every time someone makes an order on your shop through a special Share & Save link, etsy will refund you 4% of the fees. it's a nice perk to doing some of your own marketing and it helps combat the moderately high etsy fees!

Trackable letter mail - selling stickers but think it's insane to charge $4 shipping? you can buy letter mail labels for about the rate of regular postage, which is like .65c. this tracking is done through etsy though so you can't track with usps, but it does give customers a little peace of mind. this only works in the 50 US states though.

Customs forms built into your shipping label - shipping internationally is a nightmare. etsy makes it easy though, generating everything you need to ship internationally on one label that you just have to sign and date and slap on your package like normal. for some countries they will actually just have your package sent to a domestic facility where they literally do all that for you. this is miles easier than having to do all that paperwork yourself.

buy shipping labels directly from etsy - related point, and just what it says on the tin. when you fulfill an order, you can buy your labels right there on Etsy so you don't have to mess around with a third party website. it comes out of your sale funds so you don't need to charge a card or a bank account or anything.

star seller program - some people say this is completely useless but i actually disagree! it's incredibly easy to earn this badge, and it lets buyers know you've got some of the best products, shipping, and customer service around. it helps you stand out from some of the more... questionable shops on the website.

sales tax - they remit sales tax for you. i don't think any of the other online platforms similar to etsy do this but i could be wrong. doing any kind of taxes sucks so i consider it a perk if they do it for you.

website promotions - every now and again etsy likes to host sales out of their own pocket. you get all the perks of having a sale without eating into ur profit margin. HUGE sale booster

generally the site is just very easy to learn and use and it's very beginner and dumbass friendly. i say this as a former beginner and current dumbass 👍

Cons

❌ the fees. oogh the fees. they claim it's just a 6.5% fee per sale, but on top of that you have to pay .20c automatically for every individual item you sell, plus there are processing fees (3% + .25c) that apply both to the item you sold AND the cost of shipping. i think it comes out to like 10% total in fees on average @ > @

❌ but wait, there's more fees! if you make more than $10k in sales a year (very easy number to hit actually) you are forced to participate in offsite ads, which i believe takes 15% of your total sale on top of the fees in the previous point. these kinds of sales are not as common as you'd think, but it's still annoying having a couple bucks shaved off your profits a few times a month because of them.

corporate bullshit - etsy is like renting a space in a mall. you don't own your lot, nor the mall itself, so if upper management decides to make any stupid ass decisions, you just have to deal with it or pick up and move. if they decide to raise fees again, you just gotta Deal. you are a little bit helpless on this website unfortunately

the push for discounts - etsy is constantly shoving it in your face that they want you to do discounts. they want you to have free shipping on orders over $35, they want you to do 25% off or more on sales, they want you to have returning customer discounts and abandoned cart discounts and 'you recently favorited this item' discounts - but you already have to compete with the steep fees, and when a customer gets free shipping, you still owe USPS that $4-ish bucks to send the package. you don't have to do any of this, but they do reward participating shops by favoring them in the algorithm and search results, so you can feel like you're missing out.

there aren't as many cons imo but they Are steeper cons. generally etsy is very beginner friendly and easy to get into and set up, and in spite of everything i do actually recommend everyone looking to get into online retail start on etsy and perhaps move to other platforms in the future. plus, you can combat all the fees by just... making your prices a dollar or two higher than you initially wanted to, and using your 'save and share' link as frequently as possible. the fees are a little bit much, but you have to think about what you get in exchange:

the search is invaluable, you could argue the fees are partially a marketing budget lmao. if you have a private website you alone have to push traffic to your website, and not as many people know about things like shopify and bigcartel so they might not be as trusting putting their card details into it. i miss out on a lot of REALLY COOL STUFF because artists only advertise on instagram and i don't hear about them, meanwhile if i want some cool owl house stuff i can literally just search that in etsy and find a lot of TOH stuff super easily. i cannot highlight enough how GOOD the search function is, especially in this day and age where social media like instagram and twitter will blacklist your posts if you say words like 'shop' or 'sale' and now nobody can find your stuff in that website's search either. its very hard to do your own marketing now a days :(

being able to refund customer's lost orders out of the company's pocket is such a nice thing to fall back on if you have to and worth its weight in fees. USPS lost like... four or five packages of mine in december. that's like $100 or more worth of stuff that Etsy Covered Completely, and a lot of the times the customer will take that refund to make their order again. don't abuse this system, make sure you check with usps that the package is actually Gone, but it's a godsend when you don't make billions of dollars and eating the cost of lost orders would otherwise sting a bit.

if etsy did not make international shipping easy i simply would not ship anywhere but the US to be honest. shipping to europe is still a headache though but that's because europe is stupid

that's everything i can think of, but tl;dr yes please open an etsy 👍 i recommend it completely in spite of everything

⭐ if anyone wants to open their own etsy shop, use my referral link to make your first 40 listings for free! :)c ⭐

#etsy #small business #advice #ask #anonymous #anon #selling on etsy

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shortpplfedup · 9 months

Text

Only Friends Character Rankings Episode 6

Another outstanding episode as chickens start coming home to roost and Sand sets a ball a-rollin' that is gonna roll right over him in the end. In a surprise upset, Sand's mom won the audience vote last week, with Top and Boston tied for second place. You really never know who the Tumblrinas are going to favour from week to week, keeps us all on our toes! Here are this week's highly scientific rankings.

🔺1. Ray (4)

Let me talk to my friends. It’s his birthday. I’d like to say something.

Ray said NO SURVIVORS and sprayed the entire room at Mew's birthday party, and honestly? Kinda deserved. From calling Sand a whore (OUCH) to reading Cheum for filth for her shitty little backhanded comments, to almost letting the cat out of the Top/Boston bag in front of everybody, our resident mess came for every neck in the building. Boston primed him, Sand aimed him and Cheum lit the match, and it's no coincidence those three got hit with the blowback of his explosion at Top. A seething ball of pain and resentment fueled by alcohol and god-knows-what-else was never gonna fire a clean shot.

🔺2. Sand (5)

Stop thinking about Mew and focus on me for once. Can’t you really see that I care about you?

Well now we know why Sand didn't blink an eye at Nick bugging Boston's car; he's just as fucking unhinged. Sand, a poor, breaking his own phone just to get his hands on Nick's and that recording (which, by the way, calling the file 'That Car' is really too much Nicholas PLEASE 🤣)...WILD. We've all had Nick pegged as the bunny boiler but Sand might be worse and I can't WAIT because I still believe in that baseball bat. But him begging Ray to give a single solitary shit about him even AFTER Ray calls him a whore in front of a bar full of people...I remain embarrassed on his behalf.

🔺3. Mew (6)

Cocky much? I don’t even know if we’re gonna last that long.

Ok, when Mew said 'I love the sound you make when having sex' I literally screamed out OH FUCK HE KNOWS and listen, I have been WAITING for this moment. That was a baller fucking moment. You just KNOW Top's blood ran cold. Of course these two aren't breaking up, because couples like this NEVER break up. Game always recognises game. This is gonna be the first confrontation of many. But I'm pretty sure this is the last time Mew is gonna cry about it. Top might have just picked the wrong one. Mew has two moms, pretty sure he knows how to destroy a man.

🔻4. Nick (2)

I don’t give a shit about what number I am. Screw it. I’m not that into you.

At some point Nick is gonna have to stop threatening to walk and actually fucking walk, but it's clearly continuing to work for him as he and Boston are clearly the boyfriends Boston insists they're not. Dates, couple photos, meeting the dad, tender lovemaking, Boston's deep, dark secrets: Nick's getting it all...except the label he wants so very badly. And now he's shook because he knows Sand stole that recording, and he knows if Boston finds out about it it's all coming crashing down.

🔺5. Cheum (8)

I’m so happy everyone has a lover. Even a heartless slut like Boston has one.

Girl, you absolutely earned that smoke Ray blew at you. Sly Comment Susie got a minor taste of her own medicine and didn't like that shit one bit. It's all fun and games until it's your dirt under the microscope. Maybe Cheum just learned a lesson about minding her own business a little more, or at the very least keeping some of her thoughts to herself.

🔻6. Boston (3)

If I was a nice guy, you wouldn’t like me.

A surprisingly quiet week for Ton as everybody else gets so messy he looks relatively drama-free. But under the surface he's still paddling like mad: screwing Nick like a lover rather than just a fuckbuddy to keep him from leaving, clearly not out to his dad but bringing Nick round to meet him (once again using him for free work), pinning Ray so decisively that he causes a full-on meltdown. Though, 'I don't hate Mew'...well that might actually be true, because he's giving more fear than hatred.

🔻7. Top (1)

I get anyone I want. What about you? Who do you get?

Oh how the mighty have fallen. Top spent the episode feeling totally smug as he finally won the game and is basking in his spoils, swinging his dick around, feeling like King Shit. And then Mew played that recording and LOSER TIME. I have the distinct impression that Top hates to lose...

#only friends the series #bless this mess #only friends weekly character rankings #i support gay wrongs #only friends #only friends series #bl meta series

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caelyne · 2 months

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Can you make a tutorial of some sort for how to make a graph / chart like that?

Sure! Please note, I'm not an AVID Obsidian user so there are Likely better ways to do this. But I'd be happy to briefly explain how i made my chart thingy. Speaking of which, you can download Obsidian here! its free!

First, when you have the window open, I went right into the Canvas view. You can create a new one here!

Before you, you'll have a big beautiful Nothing. This is the workspace! The first thing I did was to paste a bunch of icons for my characters into the canvas. If you drag them in from windows explorer, you can see their file name above the box. Clicking the item you've added to your canvas will pull up a a little menu above it as well, where you can change the color of its outline, zoom into it, or delete it.

For relationship charts, usually we want to draw connections between the characters that indicate their relationship to one another. So to do this, you'll find a dot on each side of the item's box!

It looks like this. Now to draw an arrow to another item, it's as simple as this!

The coolest thing about this is you can move the boxes around without breaking the connection. You can also click the arrow to pull up a similar menu I described above

The options there include changing the color of your line, adding a label, changing the form of its arrow (unidirectional, bidirectional, or even no arrow!)

Thats pretty much the basics of what I was doing in my relationship chart! Although I'll also include this since I got a few questions abt it. To group these items together, you just need to drag your cursor to highlight them. That menu from before will appear and you will be able to group them that way. Like so:

Apparently, you can also change the background of the group box with one of those options! Neat!

I think that covers everything? e3e Like I said, I'm not an expert with this application. But its very nice! I've seen people do very cool and interesting things with it. Hopefully this post can help :3

#catte.meow #catte.asks

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cowgurrrl · 10 months

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I REALLY need some Joel fluff where reader says to him “I have loved you with all of my soul”

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG BUT I WENT OVERBOARD SO HOPEFULLY ITS OKAY

Kiss Me Once, and Kiss Me Twice

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Author’s note: hey remember when I said I was either gonna not write or write too much guess what happened

Summary: You and Joel finally get married [4.3k!!!!]

Warnings: wedding stress, quick quick mentions of smoking tobacco and marijuana, emotions, Hank Miller being the only southern boomer I care about, fluff :-)

When you were growing up and imagining your wedding day, you never saw yourself getting married in Texas. But once you're in the throes of wedding planning, you very quickly realize you don't want to get married in California. Too many people. Too much of a chance of the paparazzi crashing the wedding. Too close to home. Joel talks about the idea of getting married in your home town which you veto immediately. He starts listing every location significant to you two, New York, Ireland, Spain, and even Australia, but none of them feel right. At one point, you even think about suggesting you just go to the courthouse and file the paperwork, but you know Joel's family would be heartbroken if you didn't have a "real" wedding.

Filming has taken over a majority of your life, as it often does. Joel is in the process of creating his own record label with a studio to match. Ellie is looking at colleges and trying to figure out her next steps, while Sarah is already planning her move to Sacramento to pursue a job and her Master's degree. It feels like there will never be a right time for your wedding. One night, when you're on hour three of being hunched over your computer, looking at fucking floral arrangements, Joel comes up behind you and kneads relaxing circles into your neck with big hands. You sigh and lean back into him, pressing your head into his belly.

"I thought this was gonna be more fun." You mumble, and he laughs as he leans down to kiss the spot under your ear.

"And I thought I told you to hire a wedding planner." He says.

"I don't want a wedding planner. I just want a wedding."

"Well, honey," you can hear him trying to hold in his laughter at your stubborn pouting. To his credit, he pulls it together. "We can find a way to make that happen, but for now, why don't you take a break? You can tell me all your wedding ideas while I pack our bags for Texas." He says, his thumbs adding a little more pressure to your sore muscles, and you melt into him. He could've asked you for the moon right then, and you would've said yes.

"Only if you promise to tell me your ideas, too."

"Deal." He says as he shuts your laptop and scoops you out of your chair. You spend the rest of the night debating cake flavors, groomsmen and bridesmaids, and where you want to go on your honeymoon. It's technically still wedding planning but all the light-hearted parts of wedding planning. You're grateful for the distraction.

Two days later, you, Joel, Tommy, Maria, and the girls get on a flight back to Austin. Hank and Lucia are overdue for a visit anyways, and you figured getting out of California might help to clear your heads for a while. However, the boys immediately flee the scene when you arrive at the Miller Ranch. You and Lucia share a confused look as Hank leads them down a steep hill, pointing at a pasture and talking about something you can't hear, but decide to take it as an opportunity for girl time.

You, Lucia, Maria, Sarah, and Ellie spend the night drinking margaritas and exchanging stories. It's nice to giggle and talk with them like you're little girls again. In a way, they make you feel like you get a second chance at girlhood, and for that, you will always be grateful. Once it gets close to dinner time, the Miller men shuffle their way back inside the house, kick off their muddy boots, walk over to their partners, and kiss them sweetly.

As one big blended family, you make dinner together. Lucia delegates tasks while Hank and the girls steal pieces of chicken when nobody's looking. Joel pretends to need something from the fridge to slide past you and smack your ass as he does. Lucia catches him, hits his arm, and yells at him in Spanish about being nice to you. "Mamá!" Joel tries to defend himself, but you just give him a look and leave him to be lectured at by his mother. Once dinner is ready, you all sit at the long table in the dining room and continue to laugh, talk, and be a family. Maria asks questions about wedding planning while Lucia (lovingly) interrogates Ellie and Sarah about their love lives.

"Are you dating anyone, mija?" Lucia asks, gesturing to Sarah. Sarah shifts uncomfortably in her chair, and you know, even if she lied, her grandmother would see right through it.

"I actually met someone," she says. "His name is Ethan. He's a firefighter, and we met when someone pulled the fire alarm on campus."

"He's really nice, Mamá," Joel jumps in before Lucia can continue her questions, raising his eyebrows at her. "We really like him." He looks at you like he's trying to show you how supportive he's being of Sarah's relationship even though it took him multiple meetings and several talks with both of you to approve of his daughter's choices.

"Sarah, you didn't even tell her the best part." You poke, and Sarah sighs, already anticipating Lucia's reaction and making you smirk as you eat.

"There's a best part?" Lucia asks. "Well, now you gotta tell me."

"Ethan speaks Spanish," Sarah says. Lucia got so excited you would've thought the second coming of Christ was happening in her living room. She immediately starts talking about coming to LA to meet him and his family or even flying them out to Austin to see the ranch. You can't help but smile as you watch them conspire together.

Once everyone is full, the boys take the dirty plates to the kitchen to wash them while you and the other women put away the leftovers and clean the table. Joel waits until the dining room is back together before stealing you away from the chaos and bringing you outside. The sun setting over the Texas hill country takes your breath away as he walks you halfway between the house and the stables, with just enough acreage to not see too much of either. You can't believe how quiet it is out here. Once you get far enough out, Tommy and Hank come into view with little posts in the ground.

"What's this?" You ask Joel as you get closer, and he smiles. He takes his hand in yours and stops walking to look at you.

"I've been thinkin’, and I wanted to see what you thought about gettin’ married here." He says.

"On the ranch?"

"Look, we've already mapped it all out," he says, leaving your side to walk to one of the posts. "This could be the dance floor, and over here," he walks a few feet to another post. "This could be where the tables get set up," he gestures before walking back over to you and pointing to a big white oak tree a couple hundred feet away. "And we could have the ceremony under that tree. Dad and Tommy already said they would help me put up some of those fairy lights you like so much. We could make it really nice." He says, and you glance between him and Hank and Tommy.

"Is this what you guys did all afternoon?"

"Yes, ma'am," Hank says, and you smile. You look out at the painted sky with the wildflowers swaying in the breeze, and from this far out, you can see the comforting glow of light from the house. You can also spot a lazy Longhorn grazing in the pasture about half a mile away, completely unaware of the world around him. It's beautiful. And private. And so perfectly encompasses what you both want for the wedding.

"You don't have to make a decision right now. I know it's a lot, but I thought it'd be fun." Joel says. You wrap your arms around his neck and step into him, smiling when his hands find your waist.

"Let's do it." You say, and he lights up.

"Wait, really?"

"I never thought I'd say it, but yeah. Let's get married in Texas." The words are barely out of your mouth before he picks you up off the ground and spins you around giddily. He kisses you to seal the deal, and Tommy and Hank cheer from their spots.

After that, wedding planning really ramps up. You set an official date. You make Carolina your Maid of Honor, and Ryan agrees to stand in as your officiant after Lucia determines he's "just Catholic enough." Elizabeth gets the responsibility of ring bearer since she's a little older, while Victoria is the flower girl. You quickly add Sarah, Ellie, and Maria to your wedding party after assuring Ellie that she can wear whatever she wants. Joel makes Tommy his Best Man and asks his band to be his groomsmen. Even though Wayne is the only other guy in the band, they all say yes and don't even blink at the idea of having to fly to Texas.

The next few months are a blur of flower orders, cake tastings, schedule workarounds, and more. Carolina, Lucia, Maria, Sarah, and Ellie go dress shopping with you. You were initially just going to send some ideas to your stylist for her to make you a dress, but they were all vehemently against that idea. It takes a couple different stores and a handful of different dresses, but you finally find a sleek silk dress with a lace bodice that makes everyone, including you, cry when you stand in the mirror. Your bridesmaids find their outfits in no time, and Carolina gets cute little dresses for the girls.

You only invite the really important people and a photographer. You only tell a few people outside the guests and the wedding party when and where you're getting married. It's none of their business. This is just for your family. No outsiders. You don't even hire a DJ. Tommy just agrees to bring a big speaker, and you sit down to make a playlist with Joel about a month before the wedding.

Your crew of people descend upon Austin the week of your wedding, ready to work together to turn the Miller Ranch into a dream location. Thankfully, Hank and Lucia have gathered their own community of people and already have half the work done by the time you come up the long dirt driveway. Ryan helps Hank, Tommy, and his buddies hang lights in the tree. Carolina and Sarah help Lucia, and her friends put together centerpieces. Joel's band and Ellie set up tables and the dance floor. Whenever you or Joel try to help or lend a hand, someone ends up shooing you away and telling you to relax. They only listen to either of you when you're giving direction on how you want things to go.

You keep the Bachelor and Bachelorette parties to a minimum, only going out to a few bars far from Sixth Street and spending most of the time getting drunk in the guest house turned Bridal Suite. You're pretty sure Hank gave Joel and the groomsmen cigars, which is fine as long as they don't find out you gave the bridesmaids weed. It's nice to not have to worry about nosy people or cameras ruining the days leading up to your wedding. The quiet, giggly privacy is all you want. It also helps to clear your head when writing your vows.

From the beginning, you and Joel decided you wanted to write your own vows instead of using the archaic, pre-written ones. You just didn't know then how hard it would be to find the right things to say. You ask Carolina, Lucia, and Maria for advice, but they just tell you the same cheesy line of "writing from your heart." While it's incredibly sweet, it's not exactly helpful. The night before the wedding, Sarah and Ellie sneak into your room for one last sleepover before you marry Joel, and you ask them for help. You read them what you've already written and catch them both wiping tears as you recite it. They give you logical advice and stay up with you to rewrite your vows until they're perfect. You fall asleep with them tucked under your arms like babies despite them being twenty-two and eighteen.

In the morning, everyone piles into your room with plates of breakfast and mimosas from the main house. You're not allowed to leave the guest house because they think if you see Joel before the ceremony, it'll be bad luck. You're not sure you believe that, but you'll take the excuse to get other people to run things to and from the house. Ellie plays music from her speaker as everyone picks a corner to do their hair and makeup in, and you spend the first half of the day getting ready and spending time with the most important women in your life. They help you into your dress once the photographer arrives to take pre-wedding photos of you guys, but everyone is a crying mess once you're all dressed up with the dress, veil, and everything.

Many, many sweet words and hugs are exchanged, and the photographer catches all of them. Sarah and Ellie surprise you with new earrings from Joel and a beautiful necklace they picked out for the wedding. Sarah helps you put on the earrings while Ellie clasps the necklace around your neck. You give the girls rings that match the one you've been hiding in plain sight on your right ring finger for weeks now. "For as much as I'm promising to love your dad today, I'm also promising to love you guys with everything I am for as long as I am," you say, tears springing in your eyes as you hand the delicate rings to them. They're crying, too, but they're holding it together a little bit better than you are. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what. And I hope I never forget just how lucky I am to have two of the most extraordinary women in the world in my life." After all these years, it feels like you're finally becoming the family you always knew you were.

The rest of the day goes by way too fast. One minute you're hugging Sarah and Ellie, and the next, your arm is tucked under Hank's as your bridesmaids and goddaughters slowly walk down the aisle. Your heart is beating fast against your rib cage, and you feel like you can't breathe, but you know once you see Joel, you'll feel completely at peace. You go from fiddling with your bouquet to your engagement ring to even readjusting Hank's tie as Alex plays an instrumental version of your favorite ABBA song.

"Honey, look at me," Hank says gently. You meet his green eyes, and he smiles as he puts a hand over yours and squeezes. "Take a breath," he says. He demonstrates with an exaggerated inhale in case you forgot and you copy him. Together, you take three big breaths, and once the last of the Texas air leaves your lungs, Hank squeezes your hand again. "Now, I know I really shouldn't be sayin' this since that's my boy up there, but if you've gone and changed your mind, I'll bring my truck round the corner and drive you wherever you needa go." You laugh at his words and shake your head.

"I kinda love him, so I think I'll be okay, but thank you." You try to brush it off, but your anxiety still lingers. Hank nods and bumps you with his shoulder.

"For what it's worth, I was scared shitless the day I married Lucia." He whispers like it's a secret, and you look at him.

"Really?"

"Really," he confirms. "We were so goddamn young and thought we were so grown up. I remember seein' her walkin' down the aisle and just thinkin' bout how I was gonna support her and give her the life she deserved. I didn't know if I was man enough to do it. I almost started cryin' just cause of that."

"What changed?" You ask, and he chuckles, shaking his head. His hair moves with the wind, and for a second, you get a glimpse of what Joel could look like at his age. And it doesn't scare you.

"She smiled at me, and I was done for. I knew if I didn't marry her, I was gonna be kickin' myself for the rest of my life," he finds the back of Lucia's head as Tommy and Carolina pass her, and he smiles. "Still the best decision I ever made." You take a deep breath and realize the line of wedding party is getting shorter and shorter as each pair is dispatched down the aisle. Your heart is still beating fast, but you feel less sick and more excited about getting to see Joel after not seeing him all day. You squeeze Hank's hand again before sliding it under his arm and resting your head on his shoulder.

"Ready, baby girl?" He asks as he kisses your head, and you nod. With Hank's strong arm leading the way, you start walking down the aisle and immediately lock eyes with Joel. He starts crying, which makes you start crying so much you have to blink several times to see how handsome he looks in his suit. Hank kisses your cheek as you reach the aisle's end before hugging Joel and handing you off to him. You turn around, give Carolina your bouquet, and take Joel's hands.

"You look so beautiful," Joel whispers, and you sniffle.

"Thank you," you whisper back. "You look pretty handsome yourself."

"Gucci," he mouths, gesturing to his suit, and you nod your approval. It's silly enough to break the emotional tension as Ryan starts speaking, even though you're not really listening. He says something to appease Lucia's Catholic roots before talking about how important and beautiful marriage is, but you can't stop staring at Joel. It's only when Ryan says your name and the word 'vows' do you snap back to reality. Carolina quickly supplies you with the scribbled-on paper and a tissue because nobody knows you as well as she does, and you squeeze Joel's hand.

"Joel, it seems hard to remember a time when we weren't together and even harder to remember what my life was like before I met you. I did and accomplished so many important things, but nothing seemed as important or special once you and the girls came into my life. You three became my entire world, and for that alone, I will spend the rest of my life trying to repay you for that gift," you say. "When I was trying to write my vows, I honestly didn't know where to start. Instead of struggling by myself, I asked the two people who've been there since the beginning of our relationship: Sarah and Ellie. After giving me lots of advice and all but forcing me to add something about loving you even though you snore," you and Joel laugh.

"Sarah told me it might be a good idea to write about the very first time I realized I loved you, but when I started thinking about it, I realized I couldn't pinpoint one specific day or time. There was never a moment of clarity or realization when it came to you. Loving you came easily and naturally, like breathing, and once I realized it, I knew there was no going back. You were and still are the person I want to spend my life with. Our story is not traditional or necessarily one for the history books, and I think you'd agree with me," your voice catches in your throat, and Joel's thumb brushes against your knuckles softly.

"We've had setbacks and hard times. Everything from moving across the world to trying to remember who loaded the dishwasher last but through everything, you were my home. My safe place. My reason to keep going. And if historians in a hundred years pay us any attention, I hope they write about how protected you made me feel. I hope they talk about how we found ways to laugh together even when it felt hard. I hope they spend hours and hours lecturing about how much I loved you because I do. I have loved you with all my soul for as long as I can remember, and I will keep loving you like that until long after I forget the exact details of our first date. Thank you for choosing me." You sniffle, fold your paper back up, and wipe under your eyes with Carolina's tissue. Various sniffles and tears rake over your guests and wedding party as Tommy hands Joel his vows with wet eyes.

"When I first moved to LA with Sarah, I didn't know what was gonna happen. I didn't know I'd have another daughter, my band, or meet the love of my life. The day we met, I remember thinkin' I'd never known anybody as witty or smart as you, and I still think that. But now, after so many years, I know you're more than that. You're brave, kind, talented, hard-working, and way out of my league," he says, and you laugh. "The first time I remember realizin' just what an amazing person you are was when I told you about Sarah and Ellie. Other people would be freaked out or even upset if they found out the person they'd been datin' had kids. You weren't. You asked questions about them and were selfless with your time so I could be with the girls when they needed a little extra love and care. And when you met them, you treated them like you'd known them your whole life. You treated them like you're own," he squeezes your hand a little hard like he's trying to find the strength to continue. "That's when I knew I was gonna marry you,"

"I trusted you then with the two people closest to my heart and it's safe to say you'll always be the one I trust with the girls. You'll always be the one I trust to get me out of bed on time. You'll always be the one I trust to help me make fashion choices. You'll always be the one I trust to be patient with me and get coffee when we need to recharge because you're my person. I love you, and I'll love you when I'm old and wrinkly and can't hear for shit. And you'll know all my stories, and I'll know all your movies by heart, and we'll laugh for years and years. I can't wait to start forever with you." He almost wipes his eyes with his vows, and you quickly switch his hands, making him laugh.

I love you, he mouths.

I love you, too, you mouth back.

Everyone, including Ryan, takes a second to sit in their emotions before taking a deep breath and coming back together. He calls Elizabeth forward, and you exchange rings. Joel stands up a little straighter the second the gold band is placed on his left hand, and you smile. Ryan clears his throat, eyes shining as he stares at you two and opens his mouth.

"By the power vested in me by the state of California, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!" He announces. Your few guests cheer loudly as Joel cradles your face in his hands and kisses you. Wildflower petals scatter around you, and the sun is setting behind the altar, but nothing matters as much as your husband does now. He kisses you a few more times before finally pulling away and joining the cheering. You walk back up the aisle, now married, and everyone follows after you.

The reception after is perfect with all your favorite foods and desserts, including Lucia's Texas Trash Pie, which makes your mouth water just looking at it. People hug you and Joel and offer congratulations and even a few sweet tears at the ceremony. Carolina and Tommy deliver amazing, hilarious speeches honoring both of you, and then it's finally time to dance. You and Joel chose "It's Been a Long, Long Time" by Kitty Kallen and Harry James for your first dance, and under the fairy lights and setting Texas sun, you realize just how perfect a choice it was.

You bury your head in his neck and sway slowly with him, basking in the tenderness of being so close to him. He sings along quietly and kisses the shell of your ear as you dance. Towards the end, you spot Ellie and Sarah standing beside the dance floor and wave them to you behind Joel's back. They hesitate for a second before running to join you. Joel tucks each girl under his arm and kisses their foreheads. The four of you make for an awkward little slow dance, but you're all giggling and smiling despite it.

As the song ends, Joel escorts the three of you off the dance floor before grabbing Lucia for the mother-son dance. Lucia is so short compared to Joel that it's almost impossible not to smile. Still, he's slow and careful with her, and his eyes sparkle as they converse secretly. You catch Hank watching them through teary eyes nearby, and a secret plan hatches in your brain. Quickly, you rush over to where your phone is connected to the speaker and queue up an acoustic version of “Simply the Best” by Tina Turner. When Lucia and Joel's song ends, you grab Hank's hand and pull him onto the floor as the song starts playing.

"Now, what are you doin'?" He asks as you put your hands on his shoulders.

"You never got to have a father-daughter dance. I figured you should get at least one." You explain. Tears fill his eyes almost instantly, and you smile when he holds you close.

"Thank you," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "For everythin'."

"I should be thanking you and Lucia. You raised my husband."

The rest of the night is spent dancing, drinking, and spending time with your favorite people. You’re not exactly sure how long you were out there celebrating but you do know that your feet were sore and your brain utterly fried from the long, emotional day. Joel carries you to bed bridal style and carefully lays you down, doing his best not to rip your dress as he helps you slip your shoes off. Together, you undo your hair, take off your makeup, take off and hang up your dress, and change into one of Joel’s shirt before crawling into bed.

“Tired?” Joel asks as he starts shedding his wedding clothes too and you nod into the pillow.

“Sorry for not, like, wanting to consummate our marriage right now.” You say, and he laughs. It’s that delirious, breathless laughter where you’re not sure if the joke was actually that funny or if the reaction to it is. You laugh too and watch his nose scrunch up and his body shake with joy. He steps out of his slacks, presses a knee into the mattress to lean over you, and kisses you sweetly.

“Don’t worry bout that,” he mumbles against you. “We’ve got our whole lives.”

Once he’s finished changing, he crawls into bed and pulls you close to rub your back. You can feel his wedding band getting caught in the fabric but you don’t say anything. You fall asleep in his arms, full of love, Texas Trash Pie, and giddy excitement at what the future holds. How could you not when you get to spend it with him?

#one for the money two for the show #rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader #rockstar!joel x actress!reader #rockstar!joel miller #the last of us au #the last of us fluff #joel miller au #joel miller fluff #joel miller series #joel miller x reader #one for the money two for the show request #ellie the last of us #joel the last of us #the last of us series #the last of us #the last of us fic

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hotchs-bitch · 1 year

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Fluffy Feb Day 27- Snow

Warnings: getting together, only one bed trope except I as the author provided 2 beds and they do it to themselves, Canada (which was supposed to be realistic but comes across as satire. No judging me unless you are also Canadian), some 18+ implications but nothing happens

Pairing: Hotch x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.1k (i went crazy :/)

A/N: Honestly I've either made up or researched everything I've put in a fic about America so it was a nice change to just Know Things (although I am not from the province where this takes place). Also in my mind this is a continuation to Day 9- Pine

Once again, bonus points if you can figure out which Taylor Swift song I was listening to when writing this

Cases have taken you all over the country, face to face with some of the worst serial killers that America has ever seen. Much less often, they take you to Canada.

Specifically, in the case of a psychopath who skipped borders after killing in two states almost a decade ago and resumed his killing spree further north now, they occasionally take you to the middle of Nowheresville, Saskatchewan, Canada. In the dead of winter.

“Hey, folks.” The chief of police greets you all- well, most of you, since Rossi and Prentiss are already out on the field- with a friendly wave, shaking Hotch’s hand. “Chief McCartney. Sorry to make y’all take a trip up here, but we sure can use the help.”

“The FBI has been searching for the unsub for some time,” Hotch answers as their hands part. “The case has been assumed cold for several years by the Bureau, so we’re grateful you reached out. Two of my agents are at the latest crime scene already.”

“Where should we set up?” JJ asks, and the chief leads you to a conference room. “And, er, speaking of cold…”

You’re all very cold, just from the drive from the airstrip to the station. You’d seen people snowmobiling past the road, and JJ had marvelled aloud wondering how they could bear to be out in this weather. It’s not surprising that she’s the first one to bring up the chilly air in the precinct with her parka still zipped up to her chin.

McCartney snaps his fingers like he’s remembered something important. “Y’all must be freezing, eh? Let me rustle up a space heater, get you nice and toasty.”

The fact that he’s wearing a button-down shirt and a light jacket isn’t lost on any of the experienced profilers in the room. “You’re not cold?” Derek asks, half in disbelief. “Man, I grew up in Chicago and I can’t feel my toes right now.”

“We hit minus 30’s a few weeks back,” McCartney says, wincing. “Sorry, I didn’t even think of it. Guess we’re all used to it around here by now.”

“Minus…” You glance at Spencer, who’s locked and loaded with an answer.

“Negative 30 degrees Celsius is about negative 22, Fahrenheit,” he reports. “I’d estimate we’re closer to negative 31 degrees Farenheit, though.”

“He’s smart. Windchill’s pushing us a little under,” McCartney confirms. “I’ll go get that space heater. Y’all settle in, and I’ll have one of my officers bring over the files ASAP.”

You ‘settle in’ as best you can, poring over the case with your team while wrapped in thick sweaters and cradling to-go cups of coffee. They’re branded with the Tim Hortons logo from the traveller case that one of the officers brings for you along with the files and a box of donut holes labelled ‘Timbits’. The space heater sits in the corner of the room, slowly bringing the space to a temperature that you’re all used to.

Hotch takes the first sip of his coffee without adding anything into it, his face screwing up at the taste. “It’s not too good when it’s black,” the officer tells him. “Sorry, should’ve warned you. Try a double double, it’s way better.”

“Here, I’ve got it.” You take Hotch’s coffee from him, adding in two little packets of sugar and two creamer cups while he watches you. “Better?” He stirs it and takes a sip, deliberating.

The second sip must be miles better than the first. “It’s not as bitter. I think that’s all I can ask for,” he murmurs while he takes a seat next to you, and you smirk.

He’s wearing the same quarter-zip that made an appearance when you went to Alaska, and he seems relatively warm. Lucky him. The less-built members of your team, particularly JJ and Spencer, have rosy cheeks and keep sticking their hands in their pockets to warm them. Poor Spencer goes through several cups of coffee in mere hours, a weak attempt to warm himself from the inside out.

Nearing the end of the day, you all pack up your things. There haven’t been any more murders today, but the information gleaned from the crime scenes helps you add to the profile. The unsub has a pattern of striking each week, probably to gauge how close the investigation is to catching him during the cooldown period, and he hasn’t strayed from the pattern since resurfacing.

You trudge to the hotel across the street from the police station- this town is so tiny that you don’t think it’s made up of anything other than a main street and rows of suburbia housing- in the pitch-black, wind whistling by your ears and freezing them. The sun went down several hours ago even though it’s only nearing seven PM, and the dark doesn’t lift anyone’s spirits.

“Get some rest,” Hotch says while he hands out room keys in the hotel lobby, speaking over the sound of chattering teeth. It’s more of an order than a request. “We’re at the station bright and early tomorrow, and I want you all rested and ready to work.”

The room key in your hands leads you down a hallway to a door that you unlock right as Hotch turns the corner. “119, right?” He clarifies, and you nod. “Alright. You’re with me.”

“Sounds good.” Your voice sounds cool and even, and you’re sort of proud of yourself for keeping it together after finding out that you’re sharing a hotel room with your very kind, very attractive boss. You’ve shared a room with him before, but it’s a battle of willpower to appear normal every time.

The hotel room is decently nice, and it’s warmer than you expected. Two queen-sized beds share a nightstand, and there’s a desk with a coffeemaker on it pressed up to the wall next to the TV. It’s a standard hotel room, a setup you’re familiar with. The heater under the window is whirring, filling the room with blissfully warm air- almost too warm- that has you shedding your jacket as Hotch sets his go bag on one bed and his briefcase on the desk.

“No working,” you remind him, your tone as scolding as it is light-hearted. “Bright and early, remember?”

Hotch snorts at that, then takes off his quarter-zip sweater. “We’ll be six bitter coffees deep before the sun comes up,” he says, but you struggle to hear a single word out of his mouth when you see his biceps through the thin white material of his shirt. He’s been covered up all day, and you haven’t hit your daily quota of staring at his arms.

It’s been a hard day, particularly for that reason.

“I’m going to shower,” Hotch says after a moment, discarding his fleece on the desk chair. He picks up his go bag, and the bathroom door closes behind him a moment later.

By the time he re-enters, wearing flannel pajamas pants and a white shirt, you’re fiddling with the heater. It seems to be broken, and when you turn the dial to blow cold air in the room it only seems to come out a few degrees cooler.

“The blanket’s really heavy,” you warn as he gets into his own bed. You can’t believe you’re overheating at negative-a-million degrees, but the combined weight of the duvet and warm air blowing steadily into the room is reminiscent of falling asleep in Arizona rather than the snowy north. “Something’s wrong with the heater.”

“I’ll try to manage,” he responds with a dry smile before pulling the blanket over himself. It lands on him with a solid sound, thick duvet against chest, and a soft ‘oof’, and you count to three in your head before he says, “Okay, you were right.’

“Aren’t I always?” You pull your own duvet down when you get into bed, leaving yourself covered with the top sheet of the bedspread. He stays underneath his blankets, not shifting them while you reach out and turn the lamp off.

Falling asleep has never been so difficult. Without the thick duvet, you’re curled into a ball within five minutes when the slightly colder air fills the room. With it, you’re sweating so much that it’s a wonder you aren’t sliding right off the bed. One leg pokes out from under the heavy covers, but it feels like the only part of your body that’s at a closer-to-normal temperature while the rest of you overheats. You toss and turn, falling asleep briefly every once in a while for maybe ten minutes at a time.

It’s a little embarrassing, actually. Your blanket and sheet are lifted and shifted so many times that you have to hope you aren’t waking Hotch up, even when you move as quietly as possible. The only sound in the air is the wind whistling and fabric shifting, louder than you thought possible.

Around 1 AM, hours after trying to fall asleep, you’ve all but given up. You’re considering getting to work on the file by lamplight, or just stripping down naked under the thick blankets. What other option do you have?

That’s when you hear a grunt from the other bed, and Hotch’s outline shifts in bed. You can see him move around, lifting up like he’s flipping over his pillow. In the barely-there lighting from a streetlamp, you notice that his duvet is ruffled and partially folded over itself. It looks like he’s been tossing and turning, just like you.

“Aaron,” you whisper once he’s still. It’s quiet; he can pretend not to hear you if he’s close to falling asleep, and you won’t be offended.

When he responds, his voice is gruff and just as loud as it was in the precinct today. “Yeah?”

“Can’t sleep?” It’s a stupid question, you realize as soon as it leaves your mouth. He isn’t sleeptalking, after all.

He doesn’t call you out on it, but just sighs instead. “No. It’s not working too well for me. I’m really hot.”

Yeah, you are, you want to say, but the logical side of your brain beats the sentence back with a stick before you can say it out loud. “Me too. How do you think everyone else is doing?

“Better than us, I hope.” He sits up in bed slightly; you can tell from the rustling and the dim outline. “I’m sure Dave has some kind of temperature-controllable blanket with him.”

“Spencer probably researched the best kind of pajamas to bring,” you joke back, and Aaron chuckles at that.

“Morgan probably worked out before bed and didn’t need any blankets,” he murmurs, and you snicker.

“JJ and Emily are probably cuddling for warmth.”

Why did you say that? The high altitude- the provincial average is roughly 1700 feet above sea-level, Spencer would tell you- combined with the restlessness is probably getting to you.

Aaron clears his throat, and you cough. Neither of you seems to know what to say, so he speaks first. “As long as they don’t tell me anything. It’s a lot of paperwork, for that sort of… fraternization.”

“Well, I mean. If they’re just doing it to keep warm, that’s got to be an exception,” you point out.

“I.. suppose so, yes. As long as nothing further were to happen, two agents just trying to keep each other warm isn’t inappropriate. They… we all need to be professional.”

He sounds hesitant now, speaking carefully like he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing. You wonder if he’s dancing around the same thought as you. If he is, is he trying to avoid it? Or does he not want to say it first?

“So, by that logic…” you trail off, waiting for Aaron to say something. He can say anything now. He can cut you off, bid you goodnight again, or even ask you to go bunk with Rossi, but he doesn’t.

The fact that he also isn’t exactly not encouraging you doesn’t disembolden you at all. “Yes?”

“Well. You know,” you murmur. “I’m just saying that if it’s completely professional… and if it’s helping them sleep, and therefore be more well-rested to catch a serial killer tomorrow…”

“What are you saying?” He isn’t really asking. You can hear his smirk as clearly as wind whistling through the trees outside your window. “I think you need to clarify for me.”

Your huff of annoyance is more forced than it sounds. “I’m saying that if we sleep in the same bed we might be able to actually sleep. Body heat, and all that.”

Aaron’s voice is softer now, less sure than when he teased you just a minute ago. “Are you comfortable with that?”

“If it’s okay with you, then it’s okay with me,” you promise. The only sound in the room for a moment is both of you breathing, and you wonder if he can hear your heart thumping against your ribcage. What are you doing?

“Alright,” Aaron agrees after a long moment, pushing the duvet down to the foot of his bed. “Does it matter what side you sleep on?”

You get out of your own bed, and murmur, “No,” as he rolls over to make room for you. He lifts the top sheet up and you slide in under it, curling up. There’s still some distance between you, and you try to maintain it; he’s the one who’s concerned about things being ‘inappropriate’, after all. There’s no need for him to know that your heart is beating so fast that it feels like it’s about to jackhammer out of your chest.

“Goodnight,” you mumble as soon as your head hits the pillow. His body heat is like a furnace, warming you up perfectly from a foot away, and the thin sheet is warm like it’s been waiting for you to climb in. He says something under his breath- ‘goodnight’, maybe- but it’s been such a long day that you fall asleep in what feels like seconds without responding.

When you wake up to the sound of Aaron’s phone alarm, you’re much less than a foot away from each other in the warmest bed you’ve ever known. He’s curled up against your back, one of his arms slung around your waist to hold you to his chest. Previous experience with room-sharing tells you that he doesn’t wake up at the first alarm- he usually sets two or three, a few minutes apart- and you’ve got a couple of minutes to just be.

The sound of the alarm grates on you, but it must be on a timer because it stops ringing after a minute or so, and you relax back into Aaron. His cheek is resting against the back of your head, and you can hear his steady breaths in time with the rise and fall of his chest against you. It feels good, it feels right to wake up like this. You don’t want it to end, but you know that it has to.

When the second alarm goes off, he rouses with a little startle, like he doesn’t remember where he is. The arm around your waist tightens, just for a moment, as his body relaxes into yours. Soft as a whisper, you could swear that you feel warm lips brush the shell of your ear before he pulls his arm away and sits up.

The room is just as dark now as it was a few hours ago, and Aaron manages to fumble for his phone and quiet the alarm before he speaks. His voice is raspier than it was in the middle of the night when he checks the time and then says, “It’s almost a quarter to seven. Er, did you sleep well?”

“Very.” You yawn as you sit up, stretching both arms above your head. “I wouldn’t complain about a couple more hours, though. That whole same-bed thing works wonders.”

Aaron yawns too, turning away to grab his go-bag as he stands up. “I’m glad to hear it. You can go shower. I’ll change out here.”

“Deal.” You gather your own things when you get to your feet, disappearing into the bathroom to get ready for the day. Your mind is already on the case, pushing aside all thoughts of sleep arrangements and large arms holding you close in favour of your job. When you exit the bathroom, Aaron is already gone.

When you meet with the team in the lobby, you find out that he headed to the station right away to get ahead on the case. Everyone bundles up before walking back to the precinct; the walk is no warmer than it was last night, and fresh snow begins to fall just as you get to the doors of the precinct.

Once you find your way to the same room as yesterday, you find Hotch already there, dressed in yesterday’s fleece. He’s got a Tim Horton’s cup in one hand, and he sips it while staring, perplexed, at the geographic profile. “Good morning,” he greets everyone at once. “Reid, I was thinking. If we intersect his old hideout parameters from Minnesota and Georgia with his murders here, then…” their chatter fades into white noise as you turn your attention to the files lining the tables.

The first hour passes in a blur, the conference room lit only by harsh overhead fluorescents as you trade theories and examine new evidence provided by the local officers. The clock is just announcing the arrival of 9 AM, the sky beginning to brighten slightly, when you realize that you need coffee.

You’ve got the same setup as yesterday in that regard, too. One of the officers must have picked up a fresh traveller for you, evidenced by the steam rolling off of the coffee that Hotch is pouring for himself. “How’s it going?” He asks, stirring two creams and two sugars into his coffee.

“No big break yet, but I’m sure we’re close. We’re going to get this guy soon,” you promise, and Hotch nods at that. “I wanted to thank you again. For, you know. Helping me sleep last night.”

“It was no trouble,” he assures you, fiddling with the stir stick in his hand. “It was helpful for me, too.”

“And, hey.” You lower your voice a bit, and Hotch leans in to hear you better. “Maybe we can do it again tonight. You know, if that’s okay with you.”

He gives you a smile, that tight-lipped one you’re used to seeing around the office. “It’s alright with me. I just don’t want to… well, I’m your boss. I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. It has no impact on my views of your professionalism.”

There’s that word again. You wish he could be a little less professional, for once. But he’s right, he’s your boss, and there are certain things he can’t say first. Your profiling skills tell you that he still wants to say them though. “Well, what happens in Canada can stay in Canada,” you half-jest.

“It can, if you want it to,” he murmurs. He still hasn’t taken a sip of his coffee, and he hands the cup to you while he pours a second one. “The sun will be coming up, soon.”

He’s right. Pale orange is streaking the sky through the large conference room window, tracing pink lines around the edge of the sun that’s just starting to peek up into the prairie sky. The snow is still falling, painting a picturesque image in the sky “It’s gorgeous,” you comment, taking a sip of your coffee. Without taking your eyes off the sky, you step a little closer to Hotch.

“Yes,” he agrees, holding his coffee in his right hand. His left rests on the table that your back is against, and it might be wishful thinking, but you think that he would wrap that arm around you again if there were no one else around. “It certainly is.”

----

“Longest week of my life,” Emily complains as soon as you’re airborne, a mere three days later. The unsub has been apprehended and is in federal custody of the country you’re returning home to. “But those beds were insanely comfortable. I haven’t slept that well in months.”

You and Aaron exchange a glance, a double-layered inside joke about why Emily slept so well and why exactly you both slept so well for several nights in a row.

The last four nights have brought with them some of the best rest of your life. You’ve grown familiar with the feeling of Aaron’s arms around you in the morning, and by day three he stopped jerking them away as soon as he woke up.

That was the same day he asked you out, his gaze averted while he fiddled with a gold-coloured coin that he had received as change when he went out to buy a coffee. You had agreed, of course, and had assured him more than once that it didn’t matter that he’s your boss. You want him, and you have for ages.

On the fourth day, just this morning, he had held you a little tighter when he woke up and rumbled, “Morning, baby,” against your ear. If he hadn’t felt your heart beating around in your chest before, he had certainly felt it then.

Despite the fact that you’ve got a date planned with the man you’ve been cuddling for the better part of a week, you’re ready to tease Emily for cuddling JJ, before Spencer chimes in.

“I thought that the beds were quite comfortable, also. According to Sheriff McCartney, they’re primarily a transit town, which runs on a completely different economic structure than a transit village. The economy depends on truckers and people on road trips or similar travel to sleep in their hotels and eat at their restaurants,” he explains. “It’s fascinating, actually; transit towns pour the majority of their resources into making sure travellers making one-night stays enjoy themselves enough that they take the same route on the way home, thus giving the town more business.”

“The only business I want from that town is the name of whoever supplies those blankets,” Derek says, grinning. “That thing was so heavy, it was like getting crushed to sleep. Exactly what I needed with all that cool air blowing in.”

“Your room wasn’t too hot?” You ask, your nose scrunching up. “I think the heat was broken in mine. It was just hot air the whole time, every night. Way too hot to sleep.”

“Ours was like that on the first night,” JJ recalls, and Emily nods in agreement. “It was awful.”

“Right?” You complain, sinking further down into your seat. Hotch is sitting to your right, his face an impassive mask while he watches the exchange. “Let me guess, you guys shared a… uh…”

Your teasing falters when the look on both JJ's and Emily’s faces tells you that, no, they did not share a bed, and you’ve just implied your solution to the heater problem. “We used the other blankets,” Emily says slowly, her eyes narrowing. “Didn’t you?”

“Oh! Oh, the other blankets. Yeah, the ones in the nightstand.” You nod along, your mortification growing in time with JJ’s smirk.

“They were in the closet,” she corrects you, obviously trying not to laugh. “I guess we know how you and Hotch stayed warm.”

You don’t need to look at your boss’- boss? Friend? Lover? You aren’t too sure right now- face to know that his cheeks are dusted rosy pink. “It wasn’t like that,” you protest to deaf ears as Derek whoops and high-fives Emily.

“About time,” he snickers at the look on your face. “So, when’s the first date?”

“It’s not-” you start to say, but Hotch speaks before you can.

“Friday.”

Your eyes widen and you turn to him. He raises one shoulder and smiles, like What was I supposed to say? “Friday,” you relent a moment later.

Derek is still grinning ear to ear like a maniac, and even Spencer cracks a smile when Aaron snakes one arm slowly around your waist. The sun is rising on one side of the jet, and the orange glow illuminates his face.

For one suspended moment, everything is perfect. You’ve got a date for this Friday, you’re more well-rested than you’ve felt in ages, and your team doesn’t seem to care that you and your boss are much closer than you were a couple of weeks ago. It’s a blissful moment to you, and it’s only broken by Emily’s gleeful not-quite-a whisper to JJ. “Penelope is going to be pissed that she missed this.”

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anonymityisfunwriter · 2 years

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Two Sides of The Same Coin - Chapter 6: "It's Nice To Have A Friend"

"Something gave you the nerve to touch my hand, it's nice to have a friend..."

Pairing: Sunshine!Reader x Grumpy!Bucky Barnes

“You read her file,” Sam states, seeing the solemn, downright depressed look on Tony’s face when you two return to the compound the next day.

He left you sitting on the couch just outside the conference room while both men watch you from the other side of the glass.

“I did,” Tony confirms, still looking at you with sadness and indignation for you.

“Don’t look at her like that,” Sam hisses under his breath.

“Like what?”

“Like you read her file. You’re gonna upset her.”

“I'm going to upset her? She upset me. Do you know how hard it is to make me sad?”

“Yes, it’s sad,” Sam concedes, turning himself and Tony away from the window before you can make out anymore of their conversation. “Yes, she went through a lot, but she’s happy now. She likes living with me. We have a lot of fun together.”

“She can’t read?” Tony asks, wincing at his many sarcastic remarks he made the day before.

Sam sighs. “She's learning. She's picking it up pretty quickly too.”

“I made at least two sarcastic comments about her not being able to read caution labels yesterday. I feel like a jackass,” he admits.

“You are a jackass,” Sam confirms. “But we knew that before you made those comments.”

“Alright, momentary sadness over. Thanks, Wilson,” he jokes halfheartedly. “Did they really-?

“What?”

“Perform exorcisms- like actually perform them on her? That can’t really be a thing in this day and age, can it?”

Sam’s mouth pulls in, he tries not to think about it. Think about the things that happened to you. He learned your triggers very quickly, but it was not something you ever really talked about outside of therapy. “Yes,” he whispers solemnly. “Amongst other things.”

You sigh loudly, sitting alone while Sam talks to Tony. Though you couldn’t hear them, you had a pretty good idea of what they were talking about. You could tell from the way Tony was looking at you when you first walked in.

Though you're lost in though, you immediately notice Bucky walks into the living area. He's definitely pleasantly surprised to see you sitting there all alone. “Doll? What are you doing here?”

“Sam wanted to introduce me to more people,” you explain as he comes to take a seat next to you. Without even thinking about it, you shift closer to him, leaning your head against his shoulder. He lets out a sigh as you come to rest your head, so quiet that you don't even really hear the comfort in the exhale.

“Well don’t look so excited about it,” Bucky sarcastically mutters, resting his arm on the back of the couch.

A smile tugs at your lips. “It must be exciting, being here all the time,” you remark, subtly redirecting the conversation.

“Eh, it has its ups and downs. Not a lot of privacy- at least you and Sam only have to share with each other.”

“That’s true,” you nod. “I met Steve, by the way. And apparently he doesn’t like it when people touch his shield.”

“You didn’t,” Bucky laughs. You smile up at him, always feeling particularly proud when you can coax a hearty, loud laugh from Bucky.

“It bent so easily,” you continue. “I told you so.”

“I don’t doubt it. That’s why I told you to leave my arm alone.”

“And I did!” you laugh, already feeling more at ease with as you continue conversing with Bucky.

“So you two were looking pretty cozy,” Steve comments, having seen the two of you laugh and endlessly chatter as he, Tony, and Sam all discussed the logistics of getting you slowly integrated into the team.

Bucky scoffs, throwing another unsuccessful right hook. “Say what you have to say, Steve.”

“Nothing,” Steve insists, the two of them circling the boxing ring in the training room. “How long have you known her?”

“A few months now. We’ve gone on a few missions together. Why?” Bucky grunts, dodging another one of Steve’s punches.

“Nothing, really. Just wanted to know if she's the reason you’ve been in such a good mood the last few months.”

“I haven’t been in a good mood,” Bucky replies, leaving his side open for Steve to sneak a punch in.

It's not just today that Steve's noticed something going on with Bucky, the super soldier seemed happier, more distracted, content to focus on things other than their next mission. And now that Steve had seen Bucky interact with you, it wasn't hard to put the pieces together. Steve continues circling the ring, taunting, “Come to think about it, you’ve been oddly eager for your missions with Sam. Always coming back smiling to yourself, smelling oddly floral, I thought you were seeing someone to be honest.”

Bucky shrugs, getting especially frustrated with Steve’s particular line of questioning. “She doesn’t really get personal space. I don’t have the heart to say anything.”

Steve eyes him with a knowing look on his face, successfully swiping at Bucky's ribs again. “And I’m sure if it bothered you that much, you’d say something.”

“I never said it bothered me, but that’s why I smell like flowers all the time.”

“Interesting," Steve smirks. "How many missions was that with Sam?”

“Does it matter?” Bucky counters, grunting as Steve sneaks jabs his side again.

“No, I could just go look myself. I’d rather hear it from you.”

“A few a week.”

“A few a week for the last few months seems like more than a few missions. Actually, you’ve been gone a lot lately, even on days you don’t have missions,” Steve smugly points out.

“You’re reading too much into it, Steve. I’m just doing my job.”

“Such a hard job,” Steve smirks, sweeping Bucky’s leg, sending the man down onto the mat. “Hanging out with a beautiful woman every single day. Letting her hang all over you. Flirting with each other.”

“You’re insane,” Bucky rasps, taking Steve’s extended hand to stand up. "And we're just friends."

"Sure you are, 'just friends'."

"Friends," Bucky repeats more sternly, stepping out of the ring. "That's all."

“What does Sam think about all of this?” Steve asks as he unwraps his hand and Bucky takes off the glove on his metal hand, the one that kept him from inflicting unfair damage during these little training matches.

Bucky takes a large swig of water, rolling his eyes at Steve. “Don’t know and I don’t care. Sam’s the one that put us together in the first place.”

“Very defensive for a man that doesn’t care.”

“Alright, I’m done with this conversation,” Bucky nods, standing up and walking out of the training room.

"I'm glad someone's finally making you happy!" Steve teasingly calls as Bucky walks further away from him.

"Just friends!" Bucky calls over his shoulder.

"Yeah, okay," Steve sarcastically scoffs to himself.

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