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maeumi-jng · 4 months

Text

lipgloss and kisses

pairing: enhypen x gn!reader

synopsis: he watches you put it on and he loves to take it off.

warnings: fluff, skinship, suggestive-ish for hyung line except sunghoon, swearing, humour levels: bad, proof read ig

library: enhypen bookshelf

heeseung

one word. impatient.

heeseung obviously thought you looked good with lip gloss. in fact he thought you looked good in anything. lip balm, lipstick, lip oil, whatever that was... the reason behind it wasn't the product, it was you.

you just had such kissable lips. he had always thought so. even before you got together. heeseung liked you so much to the point any time you'd bring out some lip balm, all his attention would be focused on your lips. it was a bit strange, he couldn't deny that. but heeseung also couldn't help that you were just so captivating. the care you took to put it on, ensuring nothing escaped the borders and if it had, the swipe of your finger that tugged those pretty lips down... god... it was a lot.

honestly, you spent a lot of money on lip products. the reason? heeseung.

that man was always kissing you. on the bus, during your night routine, before bed, when you wake up, when you cleaned the dishes together, after being a part for a mere half hour....

and it wasn't just a peck. no. it was like heeseung was consuming you're entire essence. he would be breathing heavily, hand supporting the back of your neck to bring your closer if possible, kissing you as if he had been waiting a lifetime to do so. small gasps would fall from your lips while he nibbled down slightly, tugging and pulling at what was purely swollen by this point.

you lost more product than you put on. take now for instance because this is how it played out every single time. especially in the case of your stupid lipgloss.

you were getting ready for the day, adding your final touches. heeseung, who was only half dressed, still sporting his sweatpants from the night, had his arms slung around your neck, chin nestling into your collarbone, being his usual clingy morning self as you began to apply your lipgloss.

heeseung, finally registering you were putting on the lip gloss, whispered in your ear. "come on, a little faster, baby."

"hee," you whined, cheeks beginning to burn already. this was it. you could barely get through putting anything on your lips without him urging you to hurry up so he could kiss you. "stop! i always have to reapply because of you. i'm not going to kiss you."

heeseung just smiled softly, leaving gentle kisses on your neck. you sucked in a sharp breath, trying to regain your focus. "why do you make this so difficult?" you mumbled, carefully applying the gloss to your bottom lip.

you could hear a huff of amusement slip out of heeseung's mouth. "you are one to talk... you know how i feel about your lips. yet you torture me every single day."

you suppressed your eye roll at your boyfriend's theatrics. "not my fault you're down so bad."

heeseung poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, now watching you finish up without a word to say.

you had barely put the wand down let alone in the tube when heeseung's hand gently travelled to your chin, turning your head slightly so he could duck down and bring his lips to yours.

your half-groan and half-squeal turned muffled. your grip around the applicator tightened as you fell victim to the very thing you had been trying to stop. not that you were trying hard or anything. the gasp you released when he nibbled down allowed him to make a mess of you, slipping his tongue in to mix with your own and dance with the rhythm of your heavy pants.

heeseung finally parted, chest rising up and down with heavy breaths. his finger tugged down your bottom lip, only little remnants of your lip gloss dotting it. he sighed with a small smile. "you were right. i am down bad."

jongseong

the first time jay saw you apply lipgloss in a mirror, he was hooked. he only had to see you do it once and the following day, he brought several lipglosses for you.

it was like a side quest for him. every time he gifted you anything, a lip gloss would be on the side. or when you were literally out for groceries, you'd find him in the cosmetics aisle and he'd turn to with a lipgloss on hand. grabbing your hand, he'd pull you closer to him and start to compare the lipgloss in the packaging to your lips. "hmm... i don't know... maybe the red one would be better."

as much as you loved it, you were beginning to complain once your draw began to fill up with several tubes of gloss, covering any other item you had in sight. what were you supposed to do with this much lipgloss? furthermore, they actually had a shelf life.... they expired.

when you brought this up to jay, he gave you the most careless shrug. "i'll just get new ones. besides, all you have to do is put them on. i'll just take it off."

oh?

oh.

jay would also be so fucking sulky if his favourite colour was changed or discontinued. it wouldn't be obvious at first but after finding out, he'd let out little sighs every time you applied a different colour and he'd keep on looking at the expiry date, wishing time would stop.

you did manage to find a dupe, however. and the moment jay saw it, he was over the moon. like thank god and the stars in heaven.

immediately he'd ask you to put it on. and who are you to deny your boyfriend's sweet request? so you opened it and applied the colour, conscious of jay's trailing eyes. the moment the wand went back into the tube, jay grabbed your face, examining your lips with the distance of a hairbreadth.

you felt warm in his grasp, feeling his thumb hover over your lips as if he were tracing them. a satisfied smile washed onto his face, the scrunch of his furrowed brows disappearing. he nodded. "beautiful."

your cheeks tinged with a heated flush. you couldn't help but just give him a long kiss on his lips, parting to find your colour imprinted on him. you grinned, imitating his own tone. "beautiful."

jay rolled his eyes, hand travelling to encircle your waist. your mouth dried at the sudden proximity and the intensity swirling in his brown eyes. "let me show you just how beautiful you are."

STAWPPP 😳🤭

jaeyun

babe. listen. jake will stop everything he's doing if it means getting to watch you put some lipgloss on. sure, there's lip balm. but lip balm is not as pretty as lipgloss is on you.

pretty sure he has a spidey sense for it as well. like at any given time, if he thinks you're about to put on some lipgloss, he'll run right towards you.

you'll be in your room and you got a package the other day. it was some new lipglosses that you wanted to try. jake is in the living room, headphones on full blast, but yet somehow he can hear you open the package he brought from your mailbox.

you've just picked a lipgloss to try on and jake is already dragging the ottoman in the corner of your room to your mirror. "jake? i– where did you come from?"

"i heard you open your package, so," jake shrugged.

you blinked blankly. your hand stretched out to lift the headphones hung around his neck with a finger. "you heard me? with these on? jake, they're noise cancelling."

"i should sue for false advertisement," jake nodded to himself before redirecting his attention to you. his wide eyes flickering back and forth between you and the lip gloss in your hands.

you sighed, shaking your head. you knew exactly what he wanted. he wasn't slick with it. you had caught him several times, purposely placing your lip glosses randomly everywhere. on your bed, on the kitchen counter, next to your phone, next to the sink... the list was endless.

jake intently watched you open the lipgloss, head leaning in naturally. the push of your hand towards him surprised him but he realised quickly that you were fulfilling the question lingering inside his head: the smell of the lipgloss. taking a quick whiff, he noted the feigned berry scent, reminiscent of the warm plum colour it had.

you pushed down your smile at the cute little nod jake did once he was satisfied. taking the wand back, you leaned into your mirror, eyes narrowing and lips pursing.

out of your peripheral, you could see jake do the same, except his teeth were sinking into his bottom lip, far too focused on what you were doing.

his eyes trailed the tip of the applicator. the warm plum colour smeared softly against your pillowy lips, mostly sheer. it had small speckles of glitter from what jake could tell. as you rubbed your lips together, finally bringing in the entire coat, jake could tell he loved this gloss.

it looked amazing on you. or well, you made it look good.

you turned to him, wiggling your eyebrows. "what do you think?" you queried, jutting out your lips for him to see.

jake was at a lost for words. all he could do is grab your face with his hands and place his lips onto yours. your eyes widened at the sudden kiss before closing once you began to melt away at the pure fervour jake had within him. he was consuming you, attempting to get closer to you if he could and seizing any air around you.

you pulled yourself away, taking a big inhale of air. shit...

your eyes fell to the plum colour smudged across jake's lips. you were sure yours looked the same. you could've sworn your heart skipped a beat when a loose grin played on his face. "i love it."

sunghoon

to be honest, sunghoon had never thought about this. like ever. he had never seen it, never mind with someone he really liked, so it didn't really register for him. jake, the most clingy person he knows, talked about it all the time. he was already down bad but whatever this thing was with lipgloss, it had jake go feral. and sunghoon just didn't get it.

like bro, it's just lipgloss? like chill.

sunghoon understood the mundane things. like watching you tuck your hair behind your ears, the way you would chew down on your lip when you were concentrating on something, or the scrunch of your nose when you would squint. he would never admit it to you, or anyone for that matter, but he loved that shit.

this lipgloss thing? eh...

but then he saw it.

sunghoon never really pegged you for a lipgloss person. you were always complaining about your hair getting stuck in your lip balm, which resulted in your tucking your hair behind your ears (a win for him). so he just figured lipgloss wasn't in your kit.

but you two were getting ready for a lunch date and sunghoon saw you whip out the warm pink gloss while he put on his shoes. he forgot all about doing the laces... eyes honing on your lips through the mirror.

now that he had seen it, he couldn't stop looking. he understood it.

it was so intriguing.

the way you had to purse your lips and apply such a pretty colour. the way the light bounced off the shine, glittering occasionally. the care you took... the rubbing of your lips to smear the colour evenly... the little satisfactory nod and smile you sported when you saw yourself fully in the mirror...

fuck, he got it.

after finally finishing his shoes, sunghoon walked up to you, watching you turn around with a wide smile. you wiggled your eyebrows. "how do i look?" you asked, giving a small spin.

sunghoon smiled quietly, mind full of only your lips. he dipped his head down to your cheek, leaving a lingering kiss on the soft surface before pulling back. "pretty."

you smiled at his compliment, your own eyes looking him up and down, hand rubbing his chest gently. you stood on your toes, pressing a quick peck on his cheek as well. "you look pretty too."

your eyes widened at the shiny pink stain on his cheek. "aw shit," you cursed.

sunghoon raised a brow, looking at himself in the mirror. his body paused on the silhouette of your kiss on his skin. he could've sworn his heart was thundering in his chest while a wave of warm washed over him.

you grabbed a fresh wet wipe from your vanity, hand stretching out to wipe off the mark but sunghoon's hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you.

sunghoon gave a small smile at the confused expression swirling in your eyes. "leave it."

your eyes go big at his words. "b-b-but it's gonna be on your skin? it's so pink and so... obvious..." you told him, voice slowly turning into a whisper as his smile got bigger.

"it's okay," sunghoon murmured, grabbing this wipe out of your hand and resting it on the vanity before intertwining his fingers with yours. "i like it like that."

soft for this type of sunghoon 🥹🤭

seonwoo

listen, seonwoo is the motherfucker that would apply it for you.

don't get him wrong. he loves watching you put lipgloss on. he admired the way you got so into it, blocking out the rest of the world for a good three minutes to make sure you had applied it well. besides, you looked so pretty.

but one day, you broke out of your trance and caught seonwoo looking invested in it. the surprise he had when you offered him the wand and a lipliner was like no other. you thought he wanted to put it on which was fine with you. especially considering you were secretly the one who loved seonwoo's lips the most. so soft... so pillowy and plump, perfect for any lip product.

but much to your surprise, seonwoo shook his head no and asked is he could put it on you. the offer was so sweet, you immediately wiped off any product on your lip, not caring that it was technically a waste, and sat ready for him to apply it.

and now... it was like a daily ritual.

every morning, as the both of you got ready, you would both decide on a combo you would wear for the day. and you would sit in front of the window, on the floor, sun beaming down on you.

it normally took three minutes at most to line your lips and then fill it with lipgloss. but with seonwoo, it took a lot longer. the both of you got distracted to easily.

he'd be lining your lips, unaware of all the sweet whispers falling from his mouth. "you're so pretty, baby," "i didn't know it was possible for lips to be this cute." and adding the final touches of your gloss, he'd say, "i just want to kiss you so bad... every day."

and this was your breaking point.

screw the lipgloss.

you would always end the entire moment by grabbing his face to kiss him. you could feel the sticky gloss move onto him, his soft pillowy lips absorbing all the colour and sparkles.

seonwoo would also get into it, pushing himself closer into your touch, making the kiss deeper as his craving for you expanded. his hands, free of the liner and gloss, would crawl up your neck, getting tangled in your hair. his eye would be completely shut, letting himself melt into you entirely.

the whole gloss thing always left seonwoo on fire. like he just couldn't wait to kiss you again and again.

you would leave the kiss by placing kisses across his jaw and kisses. practically adorning his skin in your marks while your hands fisted the end of his shirt.

you'd both spent the next ten minutes trying to wipe off the marks with wet wipes, talking and laughing about how maybe the lipgloss should be left to you, only for seonwoo to get sulky about it, refusing the proposition entirely. he was going to put your lipgloss on. even if it only resulted in it coming off.

you didn't mind though. seonwoo knew that deep down you'd wake up the next day and do it all over again just to kiss him again. because that's exactly what he wants.

jungwon

jungwon is another one who doesn't really get it. he's just so caring and romantic that he revels in the simplicity of romance.

he likes that you're the first text he sees everyday, even when you're right next to him. or when you walk around in his clothes... hoodies, matching bracelets, and keychains. when he checked on you to make sure you had eaten and to see how you're day had been going. his favourite, however, was your random urge to poke his dimples. it always made him break out into a shy smile which you teased him for.

these simple things... they kept him going.

but then came the lipgloss his sister had gifted you for your birthday. you were a big fan of tinted lip balms, he knew that. he always pretended to gape at your drawer full of them because he knew you'd end up hitting him in the arm, annoyed by his teasing.

this lipgloss, however, was truly one of a kind. it was packed with some of the prettiest glitter jungwon had ever seen. to be honest, jungwon should've thanked his sister when he saw you first apply it the next day.

you were out having a picnic. everything was just right. the sun, the comforting breeze, and the warmth of your head resting on jungwon's lap, while music softly played from your phone.

as you were resting on jungwon's lap, eyes closed and absorbing the peaceful atmosphere, you suddenly remembered you had brought along his sister's present. jungwon, who was spending most of this tranquility staring at you and combing his hand through your hair, had a mini heart attack when you suddenly opened your eyes and were lunging towards your bag.

his sharps brows furrowed at your rummaging. "what are you looking for, baby?"

your tongue hung out of the corner of your mouth. "uh," you failed to respond, trying to find the tube that you apparently had misplaced so easily in your bag. "ah! got it!" you cheered, feeling the smooth tube enter your hand.

jungwon watched as you grabbed your phone as well and went back to laying on his lap. you slid your phone to the camera, turning it so it faced you. placing the butt of the lipgloss tube in your mouth, you expertly twisted out the applicator and moved the tube between your fingers to apply the product.

the whole scene was some sort of alluring contraption to jungwon. the dexterity of your fingers surprised him but nothing surprised him more than his sudden fixation on your lips. the way you applied the warmish red in thin sheer coats across your soft lips, letting the sun capture every single speckle of glitter in it.

you were radiating.

you checked yourself in your phone before putting it down. you looked up at jungwon's staring eyes and pursed your lips. "thoughts?"

jungwon remained silent for a second, internally contemplating. but, nevertheless, a sigh slipped out of his mouth before he pressed his lips to yours. the peck was momentary before he pulled back. "i think it's pretty."

a flush of heat travelled down your cheeks. "jungwon," you whined, jutting out your lip, only increasing his urge to kiss you again. "you took like half of it off."

jungwon grinned, dimples popping out, making you instinctively poke them with your finger. his lipgloss coated lips pressed a brief kiss on the side of your finger. "i also think i'm going to have to buy you some more lipglosses."

riki

an interesting sort of impatience.

from the moment you started wearing lipglosses or he watched you put on your lip balm, riki was fixated on the act. he always pretended like he didn't care because for him it was slightly embarrassing. to be affected by something so simple, that is.

he never tries to enforce you like some people might by putting lipglosses everywhere or buying you them specifically. riki liked when it happened naturally and every so often.

on the occasion, maybe you were getting ready or you were testing out a new colour, he'd watch you out of the corner of his eye. patiently waiting for you to apply. why? it was simple because he wanted to come off.

he couldn't really grasp it. there was just this sort of annoyance that you had when riki smudged the gloss so it escaped the confines of your lips... and riki adored your reaction to it.

you'd always get slightly heated. whining and purposely trying to move away from him so you could apply it in peace. only for him to follow you out, resulting in you being chased around the house.

that was what he was impatient for. that very specific intimacy between you two. as mentioned, he enjoyed the natural occurrence of it. he could never make it happen. it just happened. and when it did, it would set the mood for the rest of the day.

like today.

you were already cautious the moment you saw riki walk into the bathroom in your peripheral. riki would raise his arms in defence. "i'm just looking for my cologne," he'd say, "i put it somewhere here because jake was hounding me for some.

you narrowed your eyes, silently turning back to the mirror and returning to your application. riki was next to you, pretending to rummage through the bathroom drawers. you can't miss the way he slowly rises up from drawers, his eyes fixated on your lips through the mirror.

by the last swipe of your lipgloss, you can already feel and see riki leaning in to mess it up. "nope!" you said, immediately retracting yourself from the bathroom counter, rushing to walk out of the room.

riki was hot on your tail. "oh come on... i'm not doing anything. i just want to spend time with you. is that so bad?" he asked, amusement underlying his voice.

you turned to him, now walking backwards out into the living room. "yes. it is bad when you have that look in your eyes."

riki stepped towards you, eyebrows pulled together in a feigned confusion. "what look?"

"that one. like you're going to eat me or something," you pointed accusingly.

riki rested his hands on his hips, standing in front of you with a slight tilt to his head. he clicked his tongue. he spoke with a nonchalant tone. "because i am."

the moment you see him take a step forward, you're off. you fell into a maze, running around your furniture which riki just inches behind you. you made it to your bedroom, in fits of laughter by this point and about to shut the door on his face.

but you're just a bit too slow.

riki's hand stretched out, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you back into him. you squirmed in his grip while he shifted the both of you to the bed with a soft thud.

"riki," you complained despite the wide smile etching on your face. your head fell to his chest, hair falling around your ears to cover your flushed skin.

a hum fell from his lips as riki's eyes flickered over your face, hand reaching out to push your hair behind your ears after he tilted your face back up. the action seized all the air around you. at least that's what you thought by the feel of your mouth drying.

"i got you," riki quietly teased, grinning at you.

you snapped out of your trance and rolled your eyes. you hit his chest playfully, a soft laugh following after. "let me go."

riki blinked at you, head leaning in towards you. you could feel his hot breath glide past your face. one would think your heart is in your ears by the sound of how loud it is. lips a mere millimetre away from yours, he whispered, "never."

#maeumi-jng #maeumi jng’s library — enhypen bookshelf ♡︎#enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #lee heeseung x reader #jay x reader #heeseung x reader #jake x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunoo x reader #jungwon x reader #riki nishimura x reader #niki x reader #enhypen reactions #enhypen headcannons

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awearywritersworld · 3 months

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the day of my execution

sukuna x reader summary: gojo, yuuji, and sukuna discuss what happened at the store. sukuna begins to consider your mortality like never before and takes care of you when you're sick. w/c: 2.7k tags/warnings: fluff. mentions of attempted kidnapping. banter. reader has the flu. aged up!yuuji. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. a/n: sorry for disappearing for so long, but here is the long awaited next chapter. i've put a second a/n at the end, so i hope you'll read it. please excuse me talking out of my ass trying to rationalize my application of jujutsu, but if gege does it, so can i. i hope it kind of makes sense though. series masterlist // masterlist

truthfully, yuuji expects his wednesday morning to be as uneventful as any other, but when he stands in front of the bathroom sink to brush his teeth, his eyes are not the only ones staring back at him.

"what d'ya want?" he groans. "it's too early for this."

"we need to talk."

sukuna doesn't give his vessel a chance to respond before he begins recounting the events of the previous night, a story which has yuuji's face cycling between surprise, worry, and dismay. "the man claimed someone sent him?"

"that's what i said," sukuna responds impatiently.

"why would anyone be after her? i don't understand."

"would it kill you to use your brain for once?" sukuna questions, having had the entirety of the night to ponder the situation. "think, idiot. who would be interested in using her in some ploy? against you. against... us."

yuuji's eyes widen. "the higher ups?

"no one else would be so brazen."

it strikes sukuna as ironic that just days after he relayed the cruelness he endured at the hands of jujutsu society's higher ups a millenia ago, you too almost became one of their victims. it's a reality that he despises.

"i should call gojo—"

"that is out of the question."

"do you want to keep her safe or not?"

sukuna scoffs. "this is how we keep her safe. if the higher ups are after her, we can't trust other sorcerers."

yuuji almost seems offended on gojo's behalf. after all, he's known him for the better part of a decade. "i'd trust gojo with my life."

"well this isn't your life we're talking about. this is much more important."

yuuji chuckles. "i know. that's exactly why we need help."

before sukuna can protest, yuuji's dialing his old sensei and asking to meet somewhere they can speak privately.

that's how they end up at a small bakery on the outskirts of tokyo, sukuna relaying the story for the second time that morning.

once he finishes, gojo leans back in his chair and folds his hands behind his head. "well, i don't think you're wrong about the higher ups being involved."

"so what are we supposed to do?" yuuji asks. "they might use her to get to me, but you don't think the higher ups would actually put her life in danger, do you?"

though yuuji's question is directed toward gojo, it isn't him that answers.

"you're as naive as ever," sukuna scoffs. "they'll stop at nothing to achieve their own ends."

gojo grimaces, a silent agreement with the assertion. "i can do some poking around, see who ordered it to be done."

"and what exactly is that going to do? there's no reasoning with them."

"a fact i am well aware of," the white haired man narrows his eyes at the king of curses. "but there is leverage in power, something i happen to have more of than anybody—"

"almost anybody—"

"so as the strongest, i'll take care of this as soon as i can."

"hey, um, so as productive as all the dick measuring is," yuuji interrupts. "it doesn't keep her safe in the meantime."

"i have an idea in that regard," sukuna says. "it's an ancient practice, and while it doesn't offer any protective measures, it will allow me to find her if they make another attempt like last night."

gojo leans forward, clearly interested to hear more.

"i can imbue a talisman with a part of myself and if she wears it, it will act as a beacon for her location."

"with part of yourself? as in, your cursed energy?" yuuji speculates. "wouldn't that do more harm than good? attract cursed spirits and whatever?"

"no, i'm not a fool. it's not cursed energy."

sukuna is hesitant to clarify further. he'd done something similar when creating his fingers, but it was different then. it was a selfish endeavor to preserve his life long after it was his time to die. it was a dark sort of jujutsu, one meant only to bring destruction.

but intention is important in sorcery. it can change the very essence of the practice.

for the first time in his life, sukuna is acting selflessly, concerned only with your protection. it's a pure sort of jujutsu this time around, one that allows him to impart a piece of himself that isn't tainted by cursed energy.

and because of that, that part of him would be unprotected. it'd leave him uniquely vulnerable. it's a steep and dangerous measure. that's why the practice had been forgotten long before the modern age.

"then what could it possibly be?" it's quiet for a moment as yuuji's question hangs in the air.

"it's your soul, isn't it?" the disbelief lacing gojo's voice is quite plain, but he's heard whispers of such techniques. "you'd give her a piece of your soul."

sukuna's never been one for unfinished business, so it's no surprise when he finds himself on the couch, intent on finishing the stranger. besides, it had become clear he'd been focusing on the wrong aspects of the book when he first began reading it.

he's three chapters from the end when he hears a loud shatter from the kitchen, followed by a sharp gasp. the broken glass hasn't even finished sliding across the floor before he's at your side.

"what happened?" the alarm in his voice doesn't go unnoticed by you.

"nothing, nothing," you assure him. "i just dropped my cup."

crouching down, you reach for one of the bigger pieces before your hand is swiftly smacked away. "don't."

"it's fine. it's only a little glass."

when you reach for it again, he grabs your wrist. "you troublesome little thing. do you ever listen?"

"i don't make a habit of it."

"i know. the question was rhetorical."

sukuna's already noticed the shards of glass surrounding your bare feet, so he wastes no time in picking you up and placing you on the countertop.

"don't move." he says it in such a way that, for once, you don't even think about disobeying him.

he all but stomps out of the room, returning moments later with a broom and dust pan. there's a small smile playing on your lips as you watch him gather the larger pieces before sweeping up the rest.

and you know, it's really not fair. sukuna could even call it a cosmic injustice, the way he has to worry about broken glass and fragile fingertips.

but he likes you and he likes the pads of your fingers, particularly the way they feel against his skin and run through his hair, so he swallows his pride.

it's been consuming him lately— the fact that you are just as easily broken as the glass that littered the kitchen tile. he never considered just how many ways there are for a human to die until you were nearly taken from him.

so once he's done, he rests the broom and dustpan against the wall and stands in front of you, his hips situated between your knees.

reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a necklace and your mouth falls open in shock. a delicate chain is threaded around his fingers, while its ruby pendant dangles in the air. "i want you to have this."

"what.. what is it?"

he snorts. "you don't know what a necklace is?"

you let out a breath of a laugh. "of course i do. i'm just surprised."

you hold up your palm and he places the necklace there gently. inspecting the gem, you notice it bears a striking resemblance to the color of his eyes.

strangely, it's almost as if it's heavier than it should be— like it's weighed down by some importance beyond your comprehension.

"it's beautiful," you tell him honestly. "are you sure?"

"sure of what?"

"that i should have it."

he pauses before responding, taking in the way you're so gingerly holding it. he's scared you've realized what he's actually giving you. that you're repulsed by it.

he's hesitant when he asks, "why would you think otherwise?"

"i didn't do anything to deserve something like this."

sukuna breathes a sigh of relief. "you are ever the fool."

his hands find your hips, pulling you off the counter and onto your feet. he plucks the necklace from your hand, then shifts to stand behind you.

moving your hair to the side, his fingers brush lightly against your skin. "the necklace is undeserving of adorning your neck. not the other way around."

and he knows it's the truth. a piece of him, attached to a creature so lovely she should be out of his reach... well, that's just unseemly, isn't it?

"but promise me something anyway."

"anything," you say without delay.

he situates the chain around your neck, the pendant lying in the space where your collarbones meet, and fastens the clasp. when you turn to face him, you're met with an alarmingly grave expression.

"promise you won't ever take it off."

you fiddle with the ruby somewhat nervously, feeling as if you're missing some important piece of the puzzle.

you nod in response to his request, but it isn't enough for him.

"say it."

"i promise."

he can see that you're biting back questions, so he explains, "if you're wearing that, i'll always know where to find you."

it finally dawns on you, for the first time, how much the incident at the store truly affected him. it's not the way he ended those men that clued you in, nor is it the way he pleaded with you to forgive him.

it happens in this moment. it's the gentleness of his voice, despite his underlying desperation. it's the way he's watching you carefully, as if you're likely to disappear. it's the fact he wouldn't let you clean up a mess of your own making, because he can't stand the thought of seeing you bleed.

"i... i don't know what to say."

"well, that's a first."

"shut up," you punch his shoulder. "you're ruining the moment."

"right, my bad," he chuckles and glances down at the gemstone. "do you like it?"

you let out a breath. "of course. i love it."

he smiles at your words— soft and genuine— truly a rare sight. "good."

you notice that he's looking at you. really looking at you. his eyes shift away from yours and over to each of your temples. then down to your nose. your mouth. even your chin.

he takes in every detail and he feels like he's in your debt simply for gazing at your countenance.

you almost regret it when your hands curl around the collar of his shirt and pull his lips to yours. you should have savored his smile, spent time committing it to memory.

although, that's soon forgotten as you feel the curve of his mouth deepen while his lips move against yours.

it isn't until day three of your ceaseless coughing and sneezing that sukuna adds them to his list— broken glass, fragile fingertips, coughs, and sniffles.

his concern is clear from the way he dotes on you. he brings you cold cloths, makes you tea, massages your neck, runs you baths.

now he's on his way to a twenty four hour pharmacy to pick up more medicine to reduce your fever, and while it's only a block away, he's still doing it alone.

but not even for a moment does he consider running off to burn the world's largest city to the ground. the streets are crawling with people, but he finds himself avoiding them more than anything.

he has to get back to you after all.

the only thought on his mind other than you is the ending of the stranger. the main character, while awaiting his beheading from his prison cell, conveys his final words to readers:

for the first time, in that night alive with signs and stars, i opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world. finding it so much like myself— so like a brother, really— i felt that i had been happy and that i was happy again. for everything to be consummated, for me to feel less alone, i had only to wish that there be a large crowd of spectators on the day of my execution and that they greet me with cries of hate.

in sukuna's first life, perhaps this line would have resonated with him. it was a life where he had resolved himself to the idea that nothing really mattered, because the alternative was too painful. it didn't matter that jujutsu society betrayed him. it didn't matter that he stole people's lives out from under them. it didn't matter that he was alone.

and while he would have never surrendered himself to execution, if that had been his fate, he would have preferred to go out surrounded by living reminders of all he had accomplished. surrounded by all the people he had ruined.

however, when he imagines such an occurrence happening in his present life, there is only one face throughout the entire crowd and it belongs to you.

the very thought makes him sick with grief.

looking up, he realizes that there are no stars in tokyo anymore, that there is no feeling of indifference when it comes to you, and that there is no happiness to be had when you are not by his side.

he knows he'll never shed another drop of innocent blood if it means you'll always have that look of adoration in your eyes when your gaze falls on him.

so his trip to the pharmacy is short and hurried.

opening your apartment door, he's careful to be quiet in case you're sleeping, but he finds you peering at him from the couch.

your hair is disheveled. there's a sheen of sweat across your forehead. your eyes are beyond tired. your shirt is wrinkled.

you're still the most pleasing thing he's ever laid eyes on.

"you're back," you rasp.

"i'm back," he affirms, slipping off his shoes.

you sit up and quickly regret it, your hand coming to rest against your stomach. "god, i feel like i'm gonna puke."

"charming."

you use all your strength to throw a pillow at him, which he easily catches before tossing something small in your direction— a ginger chew to help with the nausea.

you unwrap it and pop it in your mouth. "thanks."

he hums in response, settling down in the spot beside you. once he pulls the medicine from the bag, it's followed by two bottles. "got you these, too."

recognizing them as your favorite drink, your exhausted and delirious brain makes your eyes well up with grateful tears. "you're so sweet."

"yeah, whatever. don't get used to it."

"but you are. you're sweet and kind, except i'm the only one who knows it," you pause before continuing, your head falling onto his shoulder. "why is that?"

he contemplates denying that he possesses any such quality, but decides against it. "you're the only one who's ever cared to know."

he can feel the heat of your temple through his shirt, so he opens the box of fever reducers and pops out two tablets before handing them to you. "take these. you're burning up."

you do as he says without protest. standing up and stretching your arms above your head, sukuna's eyes wander to where your shirt rides up and reveals your stomach.

"c'mon, let's go to bed," you yawn.

he follows after you wordlessly, carelessly pulling off his shirt and climbing into bed beside you. curling up against his side, your head comes to rest on his chest and it's quiet for a few passing moments.

"you can't see the stars from tokyo anymore."

"what?" you ask sleepily.

"the stars. there's too much light to see them from here."

"oh, yeah. we can take a trip to the mountains soon. you can see them pretty well from there."

"i'll hold you to that."

and so with the promise of a beautiful night sky, with the company of someone who means the world to him, and with the feeling of your body pressed against his— sukuna feels that he had been happy and that he was happy again.

a/n 2: hey! so i'm sorry again for stopping updates without really saying anything. i think i just needed to step away from tumblr and writing for a while because i was getting a bit overwhelmed. i was also a little unsure about the direction of this chapter. i was struggling to incorporate the necklace part without it seeming cheesy or weird. that being said, thanks as always to everyone for your support of this series. it's really heartwarming and much appreciated. if you have any feedback, i'd love to hear! i'm not sure when the next update will be, but i'll do my best to keep you guys posted. all my love - m<3

taglist: @96jnie @ay0nha @sad-darksoul @bbysatoruuu @luciiferian @risuola @lirasmoon @disaster-rose @archivist-ghoul606 @creative1writings @sloppyzengarden @omismicrowave @cecesharktales @tanyeonn @hiqhkey @ruixrei @yellowsubiesdance @thefallofruins @anything-and-everything-here69 @emzalot @elusivemoon @annoyingstrawberryballoon @miabiar @hyeon-yi @iluv-ace @wineyoungie @vduxx @inflatabledinosaurs19 @harrystylesfan2686 @silentmajesticfox @am-the-renegade @certainduckanchor @moons-reblog @scarletrosesposts @th3-audac1ty @darlink-xoxo @ayeputita @nanmiik @namjooningera @hermxssaa @annieleonhardtsbitch @nugget-eater123 @integers @thefunbanshee @thepup356 @browneyedgirl22 @lantsovheiress @luckypeacevoid @kiki17483 @ruttteerr @yourbelloved @heyohalie // users in bold could not be tagged. if i forgot to tag anyone, my apologies!! just give me a heads up.

#m!writes #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna imagines #sukuna fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff #ryomen sukuna fluff

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heresan · 4 months

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When you're perched so prettily on his lap with your arms loosely coiled around his neck, Wriothesley truly wonders what he's done to deserve this一to deserve you and your love and your affections.

There's an endearing boyish smile on his face as you lay only the softest and sensual kiss after sweet kiss on either side of his cheeks, the small scar just at the prominence in deserving of a little extra attention from you. His thoughts become addled when the warmth of your lips spread from his jawline, neck and the corners of his mouth before the long-awaited blissful exchange after enduring all your teasing.

When you draw back slightly, your boyfriend's face is stained all over by the lipstick you'd been wearing since the morning. But there's a reason behind this gesture of tenderness, a greater purpose that lies with all the women in Fontaine in hopes of developing a long-lasting and transfer-free beauty product, or so that's what you like to tell yourself.

Sigewinne had asked you to test her newly formulated cosmetic and provide her with your honest feedback in her survey, while mentioning that at her recent beauty lecture a few audiences had brought to her attention if there's a possibility of such a product. And so, here you are testing how the lipstick wears after food and drink, with a personal experiment of your own for its kissing-proof capabilities.

"Perfection. Would you believe me if I said you look much more handsome this way?" You're almost admiring your handiwork as you do a once-over, but remember that the product doesn't hold up to its original purpose. The lipstick checks out on moisturizing long-wear while still being relatively low-maintenance, but you'll just simply have to report your findings back to the Head Nurse to improve the final product. "I suppose I'll have to let Sigewinne know that there's a bit of transfer."

"More handsome with all this lipstick smear? It might just be because I have someone so beautiful to kiss me." Wriothesley chuckles, as his thumb wipes the slight smudge overlining your bottom lip that’s already begun to fade after doing a number on him. "Perhaps she only needs a little more practice in making a product that can survive our kissing. But a little lipstick stain isn't going to hurt anyone."

You offer a content hum, agreeing with him as you lean forward to press a peck to his lips that he more than gladly returns with a fervor of his own. Wriothesley brings you closer to him by the waist and his tongue runs along the seams of your lips for entrance, deepening the kiss in a heavenly traverse and you instinctively clasp your hand gently into the back of his hair. The pigment spreads and stains upon his lips once more before what's left connecting you both is a string of saliva, and the sound of soft panting for air fills the silence in the room.

Your cheeks feel warm and your heart impossibly full as your head rests comfortably on his shoulder, your fingers fiddling and twirling with his maroon tie as you revel in this feeling of giddiness. "Thanks for letting me steal you away from your work again. I was afraid you wouldn't have time for me between managing the prison and your scheduled uninterrupted tea breaks."

Wriothesley laughs softly at your teasing and plants a chaste kiss to your temple. "Don't worry about it at all, sweetheart. You shouldn't be surprised that I always have time for you. Besides you're not doing anything but letting me have my fun."

He then peers at the swell of your messy lips, a playful smirk gracing his features with a quiet craving behind his gaze. He only wants to feel more of you, like his hands and mouth can't stop wanting to search for every last part of you. And you can’t really blame him for finishing what you started. "Perhaps I should kiss you again and again until it's all but disappeared, hm?"

#wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines

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beenbaanbuun · 25 days

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late w/ poly seongsang

“finally decided to show up, then?” you hear immediately as you throw the door to the apartment open. you should’ve known the two of them would be waiting up for you, seemingly unable to do anything within you by their side. its funny really; despite the anger that simmers through the living space like a pot waiting to overflow, they still want you there.

“i was busy running errands,” you start to say at the same time seonghwa mumbles a soft ‘yeo,’ and you can’t help but pause. seonghwa had arguably been the more hurt out of the two, and yet his gentle disposition always leads him to forgiveness first. you clear your throat as you gesture for seonghwa to continue. whatever he has to say is probably more productive than the sarcasm you were about to drop.

“yeosang,” he repeats, ever so slightly tilting his head to face the other man. you slide the door shut as quietly as possible, although you’re not sure why. perhaps you don’t want to cause any more disruptions to the peace, not that there’s much of that left, “i thought we agreed to be nice.”

yeosang scoffs before slamming the bills that he was counting down onto the chest beside him. you flinch at the loud noise as it echos around the van “no, hwa-hyung,” he spits, “you agreed to be nice. i said i was going to teach our girl a lesson.”

the smirk on his lips causes your breath to hitch. it’s a look you’re familiar with and you can’t help but shy away from it. the last time he looked at you that way was when you’d hit on yeosang’s opponent as a way to distract him. it had worked, obviously, but that wasn’t the point. it had hurt seonghwa’s pride to know that half of the reason he won the race was because of your distractions, and it had hurt yeosang that you hadn’t discussed the plan with him before you executed it. it had hurt them both to see them hanging off another man’s arm, cooing at his every word. it’s safe to say yeosang had made sure it wouldn’t be a recurring issue.

“i don’t think she meant to be late to the race, sangie” the taller of the two coos, trying his hardest to squash the issue before yeosang could take it any further, “we had her up late last night. poor thing must be tired!”

“yeah?” yeosang cocks a brow as he answers his elder, although his gaze never leaves your own, “well, the ‘poor thing’ in question didn’t seem to be complaining when we had her bent over the hood of your car until god knows what hour, did she?”

you flush at the memories of last night, but soon shake them loose when you realise that it won’t be of any help to your current situation.

“besides, you know just as well as i do that the little slut loves it when i’m a little mean,” he pats one of his deliciously spread thighs, and you, being as well trained as you are, begin to shuffle closer. you reach him, probably not as quickly as he would’ve liked, and kneel down between his spread legs. your gaze hits the floor immediately, “perhaps if you weren’t so soft, hwa-hyung, she’d listen to you when you ask her to be on time.”

seonghwa sighs from behind you, but doesn’t say a word to argue. he knows as well as you do that you can get away with murder with him.

maybe you did intentionally forgot to set an alarm this morning, and maybe you had ‘slept through’ their attempts to wake you up before heading to the track, but it was only because you knew seonghwa wouldn’t do anything. perhaps if you were thinking a little harder this morning you would’ve known that where hwa wouldn’t punish you, yeosang would.

as they saying goes, hindsight is a wonderful thing.

“well, do what you need to do,” seonghwa sighs as he grabs his abandoned book from the floor and moves until his back is flat against the arm of the sofa, “just try not to be too loud; this book is finally getting good.”

before you can let your jaw drop at how easily seonghwa is to pass you over to yeosang and leave you at the mercy of his evil schemes, theres a hand clamping it closed. it wraps firmly around your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks to make your lips jut out in a pout. you know there’s no use resisting as he tilts your head until you’re looking him dead in the eyes. there’s a twinkle behind them telling you you he’s going to thoroughly enjoy taking you down a few pegs.

“you know,” he starts, “if it was just the case of being late this morning, this wouldn’t be happening. if you’d just apologised to our beloved seonghwa and accepted that you’d upset him, i would’ve let you off the hook.”

he shifts one of the fingers that rests on your jaw, bringing it to your lips and slipping it between them with a warning of, ‘no biting,’ as he pushes down on your tongue. spit pools around the digit but you’re not able to swallow it down. you have no choice but to stare at him with wide eyes as he plays with your mouth like a toy.

“but then you had to argue and storm out of here like a little brat,” he curls his finger, hooking it over your lower teeth and tugs you closer by your jaw until your nose is almost touching his crotch, “do you even know how worried we were? even with all that anger?” he scoffs as he pushes your face back with force. the fingers around your jaw loosen, and the one on your tongue slips free. you think you’re in the clear, until you feel them curl around your neck. you go to take in a breath, but as you do, his fingers squeeze the sides. your breath stutters, “were you even thinking about us when you were off doing fuck knows what? did you even stop and think for a second that maybe walking around alone in the dark would just make us worry?”

and you have to admit, the answer is no. you were too angry to think about them for longer than a few seconds. now, as you’re surrounded by your two lovers, you realise that your anger wasn’t even placed at them. in fact the only feeling you felt so strongly towards them was guilt; the anger was mostly towards yourself. you didn’t even need to wonder why; the list from today alone was too long to count.

“i just needed some fresh air,” you whimper as you squirm against the hand on your neck, “needed to think straight. i’m sorry now, i am!”

the grip he has on your neck loosens a little as watches you beg for his forgiveness. if he feels a little pang of adoration shoot through his heart as he watches your eyes gloss over with unshed tears, that’s for him to know. it’s so easy for him to see why seonghwa is so gentle with you all the time when you look so fragile, but someone has to put you in your place when you’re bad. if it’s not going to be seonghwa, then it has to be him.

he quickly mends the small cracks of sympathy in his heart before diving back in, tightening his hand once more around your neck. you whine, but this time yeosang holds his feelings back with a cruel smirk.

“oh, you’re sorry are you?” he condescends with a fake pout, “should’ve thought about that earlier, little one. now you’d better get to work. you know forgiveness comes hand in hand with repentance…”

#ateez hard thoughts #ateez x reader #ateez hard hours #yeosang hard thoughts #poly ateez smut #ateez smut #yeosang hard hours #yeosang x reader #yeosang smut #seonghwa hard thoughts #seonghwa hard hours #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut

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robbie-wallis · 8 days

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I need to vent about Watcher, endure it if you can

Relax, this isn't a parasocial thing, but it is a long ass post, which suits me as a long ass human.

I need an outlet to discuss the terrible business decision Watcher has made by announcing their plan to leave YouTube, and this long-forgotten Tumblr account reached from its grave to grab at my ankle.

If you didn't see their video, good for you. It's extremely cringe-worthy in its sentimentality and editing, with blurry shots, pensive pauses and obligatory sad piano.

But at least there's no f'ing Ukulele.

Although, I think we might get the Ukulele in a few months.

Even though anyone who reads this is probably familiar with what the "Ghoul Boys" have done, I feel as though I need to add a little history.

WATCHER HISTORY

You can skip this part if you've been obsessively following the shenanigans, this is for the noobs who were never a "shaniac" or a "boogara".

Shane Madej and Ryan Bergara used to work at Buzzfeed. They hosted the successful Buzzfeed Unsolved shows. In 2019 they followed in the footsteps of the Try Guys and Safia Nygaaard and left Buzzfeed to create their own YouTube channel named "Watcher".

They brought along Steven Lim, another Buzzfeed person who is most known for the "Worth It" series. This series followed Lim and his friend/s spending obscene amounts of money on obscenely overpriced and indulgent products.

Think of it as being similar to the $100 V's $10,000 Sidemen content, only without the self-awareness and British "bad lads" humor.

Notably, even the Sidemen seem to have cut back on those adventures, perhaps understanding how bad it looks when so many people are struggling to pay their essential bills.

Steven became the CEO of Watcher while Shane and Ryan continued to create and present for the new channel.

They were wildly successful by YouTube standards. At the time of their self-spanking on Friday they were close to achieving 3 million subscribers, in just 4 years, based on basically only 2 cornerstone shows. If Social Blade is still a reasonably trusted source in everything but estimating income, they were gaining thousands of new subscribers every week.

Their most successful shows were Ghost Files, Puppet History, Too Many Spirits and Mystery Files.

Ghost Files is the only one of these shows which requires heavy investment, travel, a large crew and impressive production costs. These videos are shot on-location and require a lot of work. The rest are basically Good Mythical Morning style, just the two hosts and their banter.

Aside from Ghost Files, their content could be created with 3 cameras, 2 lapel mics and a good editor.

They were massively successful, solely because of Ryan and Shane.

THE DEMISE

So, what did they do on Friday 19th April? They decided to announce the launch of their own subscription platform.

Not a Patreon for extra content, behind-the-scenes, audience interaction etc, (they already had a Patreon with 6,000 paying subscribers earning them at least $50k a month), but a bespoke streaming platform which looks like a clone of Netflix.

The cost is $5.99 a month, or $60 a year.

Comparable to Netflix.

And by that I mean the price is comparable to Netflix while the content is comparable to a 4 year old YouTube channel.

Don't get me wrong, their production quality is incredible. The quantity, however, is not.

From the end of May viewers will have to pay to be a subscriber on their own platform in order to watch their shows.

They'll still be posting their trailers on YouTube, and the first episodes of new shows, but to watch it all you'll have to pay up or miss out.

Edited to add: Variety originally reported the Watcher crew were planning to remove all their existing content from YouTube to monetize it on their own platform. It's since been confirmed they will not be removing their old content. Fans are undecided whether this was a back-track after the announcement or a misunderstanding by Variety. You be the judge.

Of course, they're entitled to do this. They are creating a product and you can either enjoy it or not. No one is entitled to see it, for free, whenever they like.

Why did they do this?

Half of the sombre video gushes about their "humble beginnings" as "struggling young guys in a big harsh world", which comes across as extremely self-indulgent and ego-stroking.

A quarter of it explains how insanely successful they've been on YouTube and how this is all thanks to the fans who stuck with them after Buzzfeed, how it's allowed them to hire 25 people, how it's given them the freedom to create what they enjoy making and what the viewers want to see, and - most importantly - how it's allowed them to increase production quality on Ghost Files.

The final quarter of the video explains that this isn't good enough, the quality isn't high enough, the finish not glossy enough, it's not "TV caliber" enough! They want more, they need more, you have to give them more, mostly (apparently) because their CEO Steven Lim wants to bring back his show where he flies around the world with his bestie sipping Champagne and eating gold-leaf-covered lobster.

In short, they want more money to make even bigger things, even though their audience never asked for that.

WHY IT WILL NOT WORK

Oh my goodness, this is going to be a ride so strap in.

I'm not a YouTube creator so there are a lot of things I do not know. Having said that, I know a little about business.

This ain't Buzzfeed, y'all

Watcher became successful because of Ryan and Shane. It was their friendship, their personalities, and the content we loved to watch featuring them at Buzzfeed, that brought us along for the ride.

The audience they poached from Buzzfeed is there for them and Ghost Files. It's not there for Steven Lim and "Worth It". His show worked under the Buzzfeed umbrella only because they had numerous sub-categories in that community to support it.

The Try Guys left and created their own channel from their Buzzfeed fans.

Safia Nygaard left and created her own channel from her Buzzfeed fans.

Shane and Ryan left and created Watcher from their Buzzfeed fans.

Steven Lim left and became the CEO of Watcher. He didn't take his audience with him.

The audience of Watcher is not the audience of "watch me fly around the word with my pal and spend $100K on hand-reared, Whiskey marinaded, diamond-encrusted Kobe steak".

And... IN THIS ECONOMY?

Steven chose to become a CEO instead of a presenter. He's missed the opportunity to take that Buzzfeed audience with him.

This is made clear by the Watcher channel itself. Their "man eats food" content rarely breaks 500K views while their Ghost Files breaks 2 million consistently.

If a million of their viewers followed them from Buzzfeed to Watcher, the other 2 million have joined them since, based almost entirely on their spoopy content.

Not only did they base their channel on this genre and format, they have distilled their audience further ever since the creation of their channel and no matter how hard they try to diversify into "man eats food" it's just not working.

This ain't Netflix, y'all

As mentioned, the $5.99 charge is comparable to Netflix and just about every other streaming platform. Only Watcher can't give you even 5% of what a competing platform can offer for that price.

Other platforms also tailor their content and their pricing based on geographical location and localized economics.

You're paying far less than $5.99 a month if you live in an economy where the median household income is $300 a month. YouTube has a global audience. Their subscribers don't all live in a stable economy where $5.99 is considered disposable income.

We don't know the numbers, but I would guess only 60% of their subscribers are based in the USA, Canada, and the UK.

Even for those who do live in a stable economy, their audience is predominantly young adults and students. Most young adults are currently facing the reality that they will possibly never own their own home, they're living day-to-day trying to budget.

They've instantly priced-out a large % of their audience.

I confidently predict that diehard fans who can't see anything wrong with this will sign up for $5.99 a month, binge watch for a couple of weeks, realize there's no new spoopy content and cancel.

They'll come back when a full season of Ghost Files has arrived, pay again, binge it and leave.

Steven Lim thinks they're gonna get $5.99 a month, every month, from thousands of subscribers. In reality they're going to get maybe $12 a year, from people signing up to binge watch what they want, then leaving.

This will then decline naturally as attention wanes during the months where there is no spoopy.

This ain't good marketing, y'all

They're going to be posting "trailers and season pilots" on YouTube.

Sure, I bet YouTube is gonna be totes okay with a channel doing nothing but trying to hijack traffic for an external site.

Posting nothing but trailers and season premiers will mean maybe one full video per month during busy seasons. That's not enough to remain relevant for the algorithm.

If 80% of those posts are also just trailers saying "leave YouTube and come here", the channel will be smacked down quicker than a crypto scam using an AI generated Elongated Muskrat.

Their channel was growing steadily, but that was with full content regularly posted. When the schedule drops off, and when most of it is considered spammy by YouTube, it's going to collapse like a flan in a cupboard.

A streaming platform needs a constant flow of new subscribers just to replace the gradual drop-off (maybe ask Rooster Teeth about that). When your global audience at YouTube is gone, where are those new subscribers coming from?

The platform is also an additional overhead. It's going to cost thousands a month to keep the servers going.

This ain't good financial management, y'all

I don't know if they've already spent hundreds of thousands of $s on Lim's "men eat food" gamble, but I suspect they have.

I know they have spent hundreds of thousands of $s on a new season of Ghost Files, flying to the UK to host live events while filming those episodes.

This means they've over-extended their finances just at the moment where they've cratered their opportunities to see a return on investment.

Just that, on its own, is enough to destroy a production company.

They do not need 25 employees any more than I need an editor and proof-reader for this long ass post.

They do not need a production studio in Hollywood any more than I needed an office to write this.

They do not need to spend tens of thousands of $s on glossy graphics that appear on screen for maybe 4 seconds in one episode any more than I needed to add screengrabs to this painfully long essay.

By leaving YouTube they've lost:

Adsense revenue (which might not be much on a per-video basis but adds up with a back catalogue over years of productions)

Sponsorship deals, which allegedly contributes almost 50% of their annual revenue.

Merch sales, which is about to crash if the only people they can promote merch to are already paying per month in their smaller ecosystem.

Patreon. Why would someone pay $5.99 twice, for the same or less content?

And they've abandoned all of this for maybe a few thousand people who will probably end up paying just $12 a year when a new spoopy season arrives for them to binge.

I'm no Will Hunting, but no matter how hard I try to make the numbers work they just don't, and I don't need Robin Williams to tell me it's not my fault.

This ain't nice, y'all

Some of you are feeling like Ned's wife right now, and some of you will have no idea what that's in reference to.

Most of you will hate that I made that reference more than you hated the SNL skit.

I get it.

Maybe the worst part about all of his, from a viewer's perspective, is the dismissive nature of their sign-off.

They didn't mention the Patreon members once, not one single time in the whole video. It's like they consider the Patreon "too YouTube". They're the deformed cousin locked in the attic. They're the relative who wasn't invited to the wedding because they can't afford a Tom Ford suit. They're the colleague who isn't invited to the staff night out because they only work in accounting and no one has anything in common with Janice anyway.

These are diehard fans who were actually paying them extra to support them and enjoy a little bonus behind the scenes, and the boys didn't even consider them worthy of an utterance.

They also finished with "If you don't follow us and pay up it's been real, peace out". I'm paraphrasing, but that's basically what it was.

They spent so much of the video saying how awesome and great it was that the fans and YouTube got them to this point, but they didn't thank their Patreon members, and they ended with a blunt suggestion that if you don't follow them and pay more then you're not a real fan anyway and they don't really need you.

"Thanks for getting us here, sucks to be you, bye now!"

You made them wealthy, you helped them hire 25 people, you helped them increase production value to "TV caliber" even though you didn't ask for that, but your job is done and now you're superfluous. Only the real fans are wanted.

In the words of the great George Carlin - "It's a big club, and you ain't in it".

They're okay losing the vast majority of the people who got them here if a few thousand of those are comfortable enough to be able to pay $60 a year for a YouTube channel.

Can it get worse? Sure!

We've had a weekend to enjoy the constant heat of this bonfire and it's predictably worsened with each hour of silence from the company and its employees.

The fact that they haven't back-tracked, despite almost unanimous agreement that this is badder than the baddest thing that could happen to their company, suggests they're okay with it.

Consensus seems to be that they knew it would be this bad, and they're cool. They predicted 90% of people would scream "Boo to you good sirs! Boo indeed!" and they could still survive on the 10% who don't see a problem here.

The lack of response reinforces the narrative that they're totally fine with discarding almost their entire audience if they can just squeeze the cash they need out of whoever is left.

This ain't fixable, y'all (maybe)

Note: I don't want this to be mean, but it's going to sound a little bitchy no matter how I try to say it.

If they'd brought out the Ukulele on Saturday, or even teased Ukulele's on their socials before putting out a video on Sunday, they probably could have survived this with much hand-wringing and a little groveling.

But now I think they've grilled this Kobe steak for far too long.

They've lost 100K subscribers, and counting. The venom among Patreon members is allegedly worse than the public comments section under the video, which is startling. Dozens of YouTubers are torching them harder than a $100 crème brûlée.

People are scraping their channel content in case it's nuked.

Shane "eat the rich" Madej's sentiments over the last few years look disingenuous, to say the least. To shamelessly steal someone else's comment: "Imagine being all 'eat the rich' right before throwing yourself on the plate". He's silent while his McMansion burns down, at his own hands. "Why not!?" indeed.

Steven "I drive a Tesla" Lim's socials now make him look like a tech-bro try-hard and his use of words like "early adopter" and "soft launch" in the video only compound the belief that this was all his brainchild. He is the CEO, and that comes with responsibility and the associated blame. You can't steer the ship into the Bermuda Triangle and then disappear without looking like the bad guy.

Okay, you can disappear, but that convoluted metaphor is a mystery for someone else to solve.

Ryan "TV caliber" Bergara now sounds like an elitist who thinks YouTube is "too pedestrian" for his big plans, not big enough to meet his artistic vision. You see, he's more James Cameron, while YouTube is more like your student film club. He's grown beyond this pesky platform with billions of daily hits offering exponential growth with almost zero financial risk.

Even if they released a video today admitting they messed up big time it's still going to be hard to get the taste of this Ghost Pepper Warhead out of the collective mouth of their viewers.

This hasn't just burned their shared brand, it's singed their individual reputations among an audience upon which their careers rely.

What they should have done, on Saturday, is release a video (Ukulele or no) confessing their error. They should have announced their new platform will instead just be a bigger and better Patreon, with early access to everything, behind-the-scenes content, extra features, audience interaction etc.

They should have reversed to make clear their YouTube channel will stay the priority, their main source of revenue, but that you could get more on their own platform if you want it.

And, maybe, over time, people will pay for that. If they grow their channel to 6 million subscribers in the next 4 years there will be a couple hundred thousand of them willing and able to pay $5.99 a month for 8 years of shows, 8 years of behind the scenes content, 8 years of community involvement and regular early access to new episodes.

Maybe then they could try out their "privileged guys eat expensive food in expensive places" show and see how it does? Maybe a majority of people won't be living on the cusp of poverty by then and it won't look as tone-deaf as a 13 year old YouTuber trying to cover Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah"? Maybe then they could hire another 50 people and make Bergara's "TV caliber" (I still don't know exactly what that means) game shows and reboots?

The clock has been ticking since they hit that "publish" button on their career ending video, but that clock is about to count down to zero and silence will permeate throughout their previously lively community.

That 1980s basement set needed someone crying in the corner, right?

The problem is, their own platform is not a terrible idea. Really, it's not the worst thing they could do. The badness came in the timing, the switch, the middle finger and the f you. They could have released this as an extra, their own Patreon alternative, waited, developed it over time into something sustainable and established.

They could still try to do that and hope this dark chapter is forgotten.

Maybe I'm wrong? Maybe Lim is a financial genius with more skill than the management of Rooster Teeth and their corporate parent company combined? Maybe this gamble will be wildly successful despite all streaming services down-sizing or just going bankrupt? Maybe they won't be back on YouTube in 3-6 months begging for views after having to lay off 20 of their employees?

I know this... if I were one of those 25 employees blind faith would not be enough to stop me from looking for another job.

I suppose this will, for now, remain... a mystery.

EDIT:

I'm not writing another essay about this, but I'm glad to see they've backtracked and made the right choice to use WatcherTV as any sane creator would - to host early access and exclusive content in addition to their YouTube channel.

Over time, while promoting it in every video, building up that trust and fan base, it can be a secure and long-term financial bonus helping them to expand their business incrementally as finances allow.

Why this wasn't the plan all along is anyone's guess. Gambling everything on this was never the sane decision.

I still think they need to scale back on costs. I still think the food content is not currently a viable source of income while being a serious drain on resources. I still think they need to stop hiring all their friends and they need to hire one person who doesn't have personal relationships with everyone there and can make the tough business decisions.

No one likes firing people, it's ten times worse when it's a friend. But this is a reality of business and just wishing it wasn't so isn't going to make it go away. It would be awesome if we could all run a business where we can hire all our friends and family, never have to rely on any outside funding, make whatever we want, make a great living in one of the most expensive cities in the world and continue to grow.

That's just not the reality.

Their apology was genuine, in my opinion. I just hope they can work out the right financial balance.

#watcher #ghoul boys #steven lim #watcher entertainment #shane and ryan #ghost files

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adventuringblind · 10 months

Note

Hi, I saw you were asking for requests and I thought I'd give you an idea for Max Verstapppen x reader fic. I don't request much so if it's too detailed I'm sorry, you can change anything you want, it's just a scenario I've had in my head for a while. I was thinking about enemies to lovers, grumpy x sunshine (also I'm a sucker for angst with a happy ending) ❤️❤️❤️

Ok, so imagine this: Reader is a new redbull media person/photographer and Max has an instant crush on her but acts like an a**hole cause he can't understand his emotions towards the reader. Other drivers tease him about it. I imagine someone ask why he doesn't like her and Daniel just straight up says "cause he loooves her" and Max gets all flustered. The reader is an absolute sunshine and tries to make him like her, even tho she is hurt by his behaviour. At some point (maybe right before a race or smth) he says something about her and she overhears and is heartbroken and suddenly stops talking to him.

I don't have an idea for an ending except that if you are up to I would love some smut 😂

Behind your walls

Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre: grumpy x sunshine, smut, angst if you squint.

Request: yes and it made me so happy. I hope I did your idea justice! My requests are open (specifically for Charles, Max Lando, and Oscar). Please don't hesitate to send in an idea!

Summary: Max knows he loves you but can't admit it to anyone, including himself. What happens when you over hear something he say? Will he be able to finally be vulnerable?

Warnings: Max is a jerk (blame is on Jos), pining, mentions of anxiety and a panic attack, smut, fingering, oral (female receiving)

Notes: second pov, I got a bit carried away, and I've never written smut before, so figured crossed it's not as cringe to you as it is to me. I think I changed like one or two things about the request but tried to follow it as much as I could.

If you have the chance, please check out my other work. likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I've started posting small snippets relating to my novel I'm currently editing, support for that is also always appreciated.

Masterlist

The following media is intended for those 18 and over. If you are underage, then please don't interact with this post.

Max has never been the best at dealing with his emotions. Sure he’s had his fair share of girlfriends, but all of them ended in confusion and heartbreak because of father wanting him to dedicate his entire being to racing.

So he did the only logical thing and walled himself off. Only having the occasional fling and never letting himself get to attached.

Then everything changed when he met you. Your sweet personality hired to drag him around all of his PR duties.

He'd made several of his PR managers quit. Ironically, not because he was an asshole to them, but because he had a talent for hiding from the press. It drove his managers insane. Redbull hoped that hiring someone warm and gentle was that you could coax him into fulfilling his responsibilities.

Everyone seemed to love you. Wherever you went, smiles followed. You'd even managed to convince Daniel into being productive and out of whatever his next shenanigan was. Not that you minded them, often laughing along with him if the situation arose. And to everyone's surprise, Max did spend more time with the reporters.

This, however, came at a price. For some reason that nobody could understand, Max Verstappen despised you. Or that's what you thought.

Max himself just thought he was doing the right thing for himself. No matter how many delicious coffies you brought him for early mornings. No matter how many of his jokes caused you to laugh. No matter the praises for wins and comforts for losses. Not even the look of admiration and respect you had for him and how he wanted nothing more than to sweep you away from this terrible world. He would not fall in love.

So he became a jerk to you. Giving you the cold shoulder. He always made sparky remarks at your expense. He even went as far as verbally telling you to 'piss off' even though deep down it hurt him too. Yet you still never wavered. Merely brushing it off and going back to whatever you were previously.

One day during a race weekend, Max found himself with Daniel during his downtime. The two of them eating lunch and chatting about life. The conversation was pleasant until Daniel brought up you.

"I don't understand why you don't like her, mate." Daniel chuckled a little, but there was genuine curiosity behind his eyes. Then, a realization hit the Australian. "I bet you love her! Like a crush from a schoolboy!" He announces for everyone in the vicinity to hear.

Was he wrong? No. But Max wasn't going to tell him that.

"You're wrong, mate. I personally find her incredibly annoying." He scoffed. He was also trying to convince himself of this. It wasn't working like he'd been intending.

"Why do you think? She's like the sweetest person I've ever met." Daniel gives a confused look to Max, who is struggling to find a reason why.

He finally gives the Aussie and awnswer. "She thinks anyone will do whatever she wants cause she's so nice. It's aggravating to see people flit around at her beck and call like she owns the place."

Daniel's face falls, a frown now gracing his lips. "Damn, that's too bad, I think you would've liked her if you'd giver her the chance."

It's at this moment that Max felt a looming presence behind him. The grimace if Daniel's face apparent.

"Sorry for interrupting, Christian is looking for you, Max." Came your voice. Not the one he was used to, you sounded on the verge of crying.

You turned on your heels and swiftly left to find somewhere secluded to compose yourself.

You hadn't intended on eaves dropping. You caught the tail end of their conversation as you were walking up. There wasn't much other noise around, and it's not like either male knows the definition of quiet.

Max, on the other hand, knew he messed up. He placed his hands over his face, shaking his head repeatedly. "I am stupid. I am stupid." He mumbled.

After the race that he managed to win, despite a rough start, he found himself immediately looking for you. Then he looked for you from the podium. And again, when it was time to be harassed from the media.

When he couldn't find you anywhere, he decided to ask Christian. He was hoping to get the chance to explain himself. Maybe even opening up a little because you deserved it after what he said.

Christian looked at him skeptically when he asked. "I thought you'd been told. She went back to the hotel. Security found her hyperventilating, so I had Daniel drive her back."

The rest of the day went by in slow motion for Max. Daniel mentioned a couple of times that you had anxiety. He'd mentioned that you are a people pleaser. You just wanted everyone to smile.

He hadn't realized how much damage his statement had done at the time. The guilt is now settling into the pit of his stomach.

He had someone else following him around. Definitely not as nice as you. He knew he'd fallen for you but couldn't admit it to himself. He needed to make this right. He didn't care if you hated him forever, but he wasn't going to let you think he hated you any longer.

Finally he was able to escape the cameras and locate Daniel. "I need your help."

You had spent your time in the hotel watching the race under your blankets and calming yourself down. You wouldn't lie that you genuinely liked Max. He started as an aquintance, but then you picked up on any grain he would give you. Any story he would tell to fill the silence. You wanted him to enjoy your presence as much as you enjoyed his. You knew you couldn't force it, but it wasn't going to stop you from at least being nice. Had you pushed it too far anyway?

Daniel knew about your crush. He said he saw that way you would listen to his long wonded explanations with patience and understanding and new only someone who loved him could manage that.

However, Daniel had also given you a false sense of hope. The Australian said that he saw how Max wanted to make you laugh. How he followed every PR obligation so you could keep your job. He wanted you around, too.

The tears started rolling again at the thought.

It's evening now. You hadn't eaten since this morning, but your stomach had no intention of letting you nourish yourself. Your anxiety over needing to make everyone happy getting the best of you. You hadn't had a panic attack like that in awhile. Even going as far as to dry heave because of the intensity.

You were exhausted, to say the least.

You wanted to sleep, but Daniel had texted, saying he didn't care if you wanted it or not, he is on route to bring you comfort food.

You did your best to make yourself look presentable. Though when you looked in the mirror, you definitely didn't look happy.

The inevitable knock came. You didn't hesitate to swing open the door, ready to be greeted by a cheeky smile.

What you got was a Dutch with a sheepish smile holding your favorite food and some flowers.

"Before you say anything, please let me explain." He rushed out. He needed to, though, since you were trying to close the door on him. Instead, you pause, considering his offer, and let him inside without a word.

He steps in the door. Finally taking in your appearance and the state of your room. Both are in dissaray. You sit on the edge of the bed and patiently wait for him to gather his thoughts.

You'd always been patient with him. Another reason he loved you.

"I'm sorry for what I said."

You didn't want to believe him, but there was a genuine look behind his blue eyes. You don't say anything. Opting to just listen to him instead.

"I know I fucked up." Max continues. His voice shaking more than you'd ever heard. "And I know you may never forgive me for what I've done to you. But I am truly in love with you." He stares at the floor. Anxiety making him cast his eyes to the floor.

You are shocked, rendered completely speechless at the confession. "Why?" Wat the only thing you could get out.

Max sets down what he is holding and finds the spot next to you on the bed. "I know I treated you poorly. I thought that in pushing you away, I would protect myself. But I fell for you anyway."

He inhales sharply. Staring at your glassy eyes. How were you so calm? He felt exposed and vulnerable. "You don't have to talk to me ever again. But I couldn't let you go without telling you I love you."

"I love you too." You whisper. His head snaps up in surprise. Is he hearing things? "I have for a while."

Nope, he definitely heard right. He watches your lips twist upward into a small smile and let's out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"I know it'll take time, but please stick around. Let me show you hard I've fallen."

"It dosen't excuse how you treated me, but I'll give you a chance."

(AN: You can end here if you're not in the mood for spicy things or want to leave it at cute and fluffy... or not. Your choice )

The proximity between you two is so close now. Your foreheads practically touching.

Giving into the intense pull towards you, Max gives in and places his lips on yours. You taste sweet, exactly how he'd imagined. He could already tell he was going to become addicted. "Can I start tonight?" He might be pushing boundaries, but he'd be damned if he didn't at least ask.

He didn't hesitate to kiss you again when you gently nodded your head, yes. Giving him permission to continue for now.

This kiss was much more heated. Both of you hungry to act on all the pent-up emotions you had for each other.

You had one or two partners before Max. You know how to please. So immediately you moved to straddle him. Your inate need to put others first taking over.

It shocked you when Max pulled you off. Suddenly not knowing what to do with yourself. "Tonight is about you." He whispered in your ear. Planting kisses on your jaw as he lays you on the bed. "I'm going to show you how I've fallen for you." Kiss to your nose. "How much I love you." Kiss you your forehead. "And how much I need you." Puncuated by a slow sensual Kiss to your lips.

His lips move against yours with passion and lust. You open your mouth to give him access to your mouth, and he instantly begins exploring.

His hands gently caress the insides of your thighs and run up along your sides. Pulling your shirt up little bits at a time.

Your hand find themselves underneath his shirt. Your fingers are trying to memorize the feeling of his skin.

Max pulls away for you, panting heavily. "Can I take off some of your clothes?" He asks. His voice laced with new found confidence.

You'd never been treated like this. Often take advantage of because you are a giver. You gave constent sure, but this is a whole new level. You nod your head yes again, though looking skeptical.

Max picking up on this stops everything he's doing. "Are you ok? Your face is telling me something different."

"Yes, sorry, this is just a little new to me." You explain.

The shock hits Max once again. "Are you a virgin?!" His mind reeling that he was possibly going to take your virginity and he wouldn't have known.

He's more confused when you start laughing. "No, no! It's just that nobody has treated me so well before!"

"Oh, well if that's the case." A smirk finds its way onto his face as he straps you your shirt, then his. Then he takes your pants, your bra, and finally pauses. Laying kisses to every party of your body.

"I wish I hadn't closed myself off for so long. You're so beautiful. I've wanted you to myself like this for so long."

You pratically moan at his words. "Are you going to finish undressing?"

"What do you not get about me taking care of you." He places a finger over your lips to shush you. You sigh and comply. Letting him take control of the rhythm.

Max is over the top of you. Inching his way down. Sucking and leaving little marks as he goes.

He makes a pit stop at your chest. Gently taking your nipple and rolling it between his fingers. His tongue then finds the other one. Swirling it around, then sucking. Listening to you whimper beneath him.

"Do you like that lovely?" The cockiness in his voice not going unnoticed.

He trades sides with his hand and mouth. Trying to give equal attention to both your tits. His free hand now placed firmly on your hip to keep you still.

When he felt he'd given ample attention in one area, he made his way down lower. He stopped at your still clothed lower half. "Can I take these off you now?"

"If you don't I might cry."

Max has them off seconds layer. Now discarded with the rest of your clothes.

His gaze burns into you. His breathing erratic just looking at you. "Your are the most gorgeous thing on the planet."

You swallow hard as he finds a comfortable position. His head now in-between you thighs.

His finger gently rubs where you need him, and he places love bites to the insides of your thighs. "Glad to know I'm doing good so far." He smiles. His fingers are now coated in your slick substance.

You whimper again. His name falls from your lips like a prayer.

He licks the finger that was previously touching you. Savoring every bit of the tast he can. "Exactly like how I dreamed."

It was your turn to chuckle now. "You dreamed of me?"

"Almost every night. I got off in the morning to the memory."

You want to dwell on his dirty confession, but Max's tongue doesn't let you.

It doesn't take him long to have you writhing. His tounge unrelenting.

His fingers find their way inside of you. The act alone almost sends you off the edge. Instincts take over as you find yourself closer to utter bliss. Your arms struggle to push max away. His arms hooked under your thighs to hold you close keep you from doing so.

Your back arches as you release. Max is slowly coming to a stop as your ride out your high.

Both of you are breathing heavily. Max's fingers are still caressing your hips as you both catch your breath.

Realization hits you. "Don't you need something too?" You ask, voice laced with anxiety over not pleasing him also.

Max only smirks, laying his head against your leg. "I fine, don't you worry. Tonight, we cuddle, and tomorrow I take you for round two."

And that's exactly what you did. Max helped clean you up and put on your pajamas. Then you two curled up in bed together. Him telling you everything he had been wanting to since he laid eyes on you.

You know this road worh Max certainly wouldn't be easy. But you're patient, and you'll wait for him. As long as he needs to let himself fully tear down his walls.

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undiscovered-horizon · 4 months

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Hi, I read a few of your posts and I really liked your writing. May I ask a hcs/drabble/one shot of ONE PIECE with Shanks (and Mihawk if it’s possible) who are in a relationship with a woman who have her own crew and the woman flee away in their sleep, leaving them behind, with her crew after years of relationship? A bit angsty 🙊 and they never found her again, seeing her in newspapers or rumors only.

Thank you if you made it and sorry if It doesn’t suit your blog! Have a nice day <3

At first, he though he read the title wrong. But no matter how many times his eyes glided across the black ink, the newspaper headline said the exact same thing: BLACK TOOTH GRINS: A NEW SCOURGE?

There was a picture attached underneath the title. Part of him thought that maybe the familiarity in the woman’s face was just his longing; a product of a mind too lovesick to hold on to sanity. Alas, this time, too, his senses were not deceiving him.

It is your face. You're alive and well as it seems. Looking exactly the same as the day you had left.

The heartache comes back to him tenfold. Not it has ever left but the pain and anger are now suffocating. So many months have passed when he hasn't heard from you as though you've suddenly ceased to exist. No one has heard about you, no one has seen. How can a whole person just vanish? At some point, he told himself that maybe you've met your end. It was entirely possible.

But nothing has prepared him for this. To realize that he was abandoned by the one he loved.

The anguish slowly fades into numbness like a radio falls silent after piercing ears with static. Everything stands still as he recalls the day some part of him had died:

"Greatest swordsman in the world" is a quite hefty title to carry. It is also quite a hefty title to be overshadowed by. Wherever the two of you showed up, you'd always be perceived as a decoration to Mihawk rather than his partner. Like a pearly white Maltese carried by rich ladies in their purses. Having voiced your concerns, Mihawk knew that you feel in some way inferior to him. He just never thought it was that severe.

He was woken up that night, actually. The sky was still black and starry, morning long hours away. You were getting out of bed and your stirring woke him up. But he quickly went back to sleep when you whispered that you were just going to the bathroom. By all means, it was just another night. Like countless others you've spent together. Nothing unusual.

In the morning, everything was gone. All of your belongings had disappeared as though you had never been on his ship in the first place. Like a ghost he's grown to love had simply become bored of haunting him.

Only one thing, however, suggested that you were not a figment of imagination: a laconic note that vaguely explained the situation. In a few words, you told him that you're tired of being seen as an accessory to someone, a pair of gloves that will be out of season when snow thaws. Knowing that you're more than the Maltese in a purse, you ventured into the wide world to become an infamous name of your own.

Throughout many years, every day has he thought of that night and the morning that followed. What if he hadn't fallen asleep? Was he too calloused to notice how much you've been suffering? Was there something he could have done but decided not to for some reason?

The longer he thought about it, the more he came to the same, heart-wrenching conclusion - he was just abandoned in the middle of the night. Whether it was his hurt pride or respect towards your wishes, he's never gone on an escapade to find you.

As years went by and he hadn't heard from you or about you, Mihawk simply assumed that you'd died. It seemed the most probable. Part of him wanted to take the blame: if he had noticed your pain earlier, had he taken your worries seriously, you wouldn't have left and you wouldn't have died. It was his responsibility to protect you, to ensure that his beloved is safe and sound. Alas, he had failed. Quite utterly at that.

He grew bitter and vicious. What good is his swordsmanship if it failed that one time it could have mattered? What good is he if he was too blind and oblivious to ease your burden?

But all of those painful thoughts disappeared today.

Mihawk tears the newspaper and throws it away. He's grown almost used to the weight of bereavement on his shoulders but now he's absolved of it. One shouldn't grieve someone who is still alive. But contrary to his expectations, he doesn't feel better because of that. In fact, he feels a lot worse. Even if your death had been brought by your own choices, it is not your fault. Your death, however, hasn't occurred as of yet, so the time you've spent building infamy was just time you chose to leave him broken and aching.

He mourned you! Turned his grief and misery into a fury that burned entire towns. He became a shadow of the person he used to be. And for what? To learn that he was disposable to you? That his love for you was less important than your pride and ambitions?

Now that you've made it on the front page with an equally hefty title "A New Scourge", perhaps you're a danger big enough to be hunted down by none other but one of the Warlords. Was it not what you wanted? To be truly someone among pirates?

Oh, he will find you. Even if you told him not to look for you. Mihawk will find you and make you take responsibility for the damage you've done - for the man you've irreversibly changed for the worse; the heart you've forced to turn into stone.

Is it revenge or is it justice? No matter. It is right.

If the butterfly effect is true, Shanks, or rather his tendencies, would be the said butterfly that causes a tornado down the line. He's been known as a man with no commitment and certainly not a devout monogamist. It didn't matter that for a few years he's been exactly that - happily wrapped around the finger of one woman. Most of his men "respectfully" disregarded the relationship status as something temporary.

"Shanks thinks he's in love. Like a thousand times before her."

Which was probably why you've gone years being called a variation of "Shanks's girl". Whether they meant it or not, people around you made sure that you know you're disposable. A fling.

But you never were. Gods above! You never were.

Shanks thought it was quite obvious that he didn't consider you a fling. All the jokes and jabs at his previous love life were just that - meaningless jokes among friends. Even when you explicitly told him that they start to make you uncomfortable and that you want to be taken seriously, the pirate captain never quite took you as seriously as he probably should have. "They're just joking".

The jokes stopped one day and, seemingly, so did Shanks's humour altogether. All of your belongings were gone. You were gone. Nowhere to be found, disappeared like fog on a spring morning. The only thing he had from you was a note, hastily scribbled in the corner of a map lying on his desk as though you were too rushed to take your time to write a proper letter.

He's read that note every day for years. Naively hoping that one day he'll somehow be enlightened as to where you've gone. Maybe one of the letters is strangely pointing towards an island? Or maybe the fact that you've written your message in the North-East of the map was a sign? No matter how many asinine guesses he's made, all of them were wrong. You just... disappeared.

Despite asking him not to look for you, Shanks couldn't help himself. Each village he has visited, he would ask about you. Has anyone seen you? Or heard about you? A few times he thought he had seen you in the crowd, only for the woman to turn out to be a stranger vaguely fitting your description. But this investigation, too, proved to be in vain. For better or worse, it seemed as though you had never existed in the first place.

To put things simply, Shanks had given up. If no one across the seas had seen you or heard about you, it seemed the most probable that you'd met your end. Somewhere far away, among unfamiliar waters and surrounded by strangers. Were you in pain? Were you afraid? Did you wish he could have been there? Or maybe you thought-

No. He shouldn't be thinking like that.

Shanks is locked in his cabin. If his crewmates believed he had an alcohol problem after you disappeared, their captain's state right now would be "alcohol catastrophe". He hasn't been sober since he saw the newspaper.

At first, he was excited, yes! You were alive and well! But then the realization set in: you've left in the middle of the night, asked him not to look for you and never once reached out to him. Telling him that you don't love him anymore would have hurt incomparably less.

He's sitting on the floor. His clothes reek but he doesn't care about that. A shaking hand has trouble lifting another bottle of strong alcohol. The front page of the newspaper with your face on it is lying in front of him. He's just blankly staring at it, letting tears fall down his cheeks.

Among the darkness of the room, there's just him, the bottle and the dull, unbearable ache in his chest.

Shanks wishes to find you. To ask what in the Hell you were thinking. Then ask what he can do to have you back with him. But beware, as whatever you demand he will do. Even if it costs him his other hand.

That is, if his liver won't kill him first.

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luveline · 1 year

Note

Sunshine!reader decorating Hotch’s office w flowers nd pink things and Hotch just having to deal w it bc your smile makes it impossible for him to say no to you

hotch isn't madly in love with you, he swears. 1k fem!reader

Hotch is so surprised to see you that he says your first name rather than your last.

"What are you doing?"

You look up from his filing cabinet and smile softly. He thinks it's a wonder that your sweetness has survived so long considering where you work, that you can bring a little bit of sunshine with you no matter where you are.

"Nothing," you say.

"I doubt that."

He comes up behind you but leaves an amicable space between you, watching your fingers thread through the stalks and stems of a bouquet of whire flowers.

"They're lilies," you tell him, pulling the nicest bulb to the forefront.

He doesn't bother asking what they're for, or why you've brought them. He's sure the reason is clear in your own mind. Whatever it is, he sits down behind his desk and listens to your quiet humming.

He feels his eyebrows rise of their own accord. "What's this?"

"What?" you ask, turning to him.

He takes a pink notebook into his hand. It's a pale pink, almost white.

"Oh, that's for you." You put your hand on his chair and lean over his shoulder just enough for your perfume to tickle his nose. Slowly, you put your hand on top of his and open the book. "I know you've struggled to find time for yourself lately. I asked around, and the storehand I spoke to said that you only need five minutes every now and then to fill this in. It's to help you think about yourself, and what you want."

"What I want," he says, smiling down at the prim dotted paper.

"You know, what you want to be." You steal your hand back and move again to your bouquet. "Happy, healthy."

"I am happy and healthy."

"I know that. I think I'm just trying to encourage some selfishness in you, Hotchner. When was the last time you had," — your voice drops to a frustrated mumble as you wage war on a small leaf — "even a minute to yourself?"

He scratches the sticky residue of a pricing sticker. "Right now."

"No, you're with me right now. That is not time to yourself," you protest, grinning at him like he's the funniest guy on earth.

You ditch your flowers and gesture to the chair in front of his desk. "Can I sit down?"

"Of course."

You sit, throwing one starched pant leg over the other. He tries not to look at the stretch of your thigh. Succeeding, Hotch turns his gaze to your hands instead where you've pressed them to your neck, toying with the soft neckline of your cream sweater.

"Is there something you wanted to talk about?" he questions, puzzled by your ensuing silence.

You sink a little further into the chair. "Could I hide out with you for a while?"

"Is everything okay?"

"I love Spencer," you say genuinely, your jawline softening as you slouch in on yourself. He feels a pit beginning to form in his chest, a terrible, aching fondness for you and the way you talk. "So much. He's my best friend in the whole world…"

"But?"

"And," you correct with little malice, "lately he's been reading Dostoevsky again."

Hotch laughs. "Ah."

"Mm. Sometimes being his friend feels like being a reluctant philosophy major."

"Well, you can stay, but I have things to do."

"Of course," you say, nodding quickly. You pull your phone from your pocket. The sound of you typing is slightly grating, and the resin charms hanging from your phone case don't help, but he doesn't complain. He knows you're answering emails when his own phone beeps, a response to a case query he'd sent that morning.

At least you're working. You're probably more productive sitting with him where Reid can't distract you. Though that's unfair — you and Reid feed into one another. You do your fair share of distracting. Case in point, his new pink notebook.

His phone beeps again, and again. You've sent three emails in a row, but the third isn't in response to anything.

The subject line is abrasive. NEED YOUR ADVICE.

You've sent a list of web pages. He glances up at you but you're not looking at him, just tap tap tapping at the keys on your phone.

The first link is a monster truck. The second, a thumb piano. The more pages he opens the more confused he becomes.

"What advice?" he asks, breaking the quiet.

"Jack's birthday," you mumble without looking up. "Last year I got him that bubble machine, and it was a bust."

Hotch blinks. "He loved it."

"Yeah, but I ruined your hardwood."

He concedes, nodding his head toward his shoulder, "He uses it in the backyard."

Your phone starts to ring. "Oh, no. It's Spencer."

Hotch looks out of his office window, watching as Reid searches the office for you.

You stand up and brush yourself down. "I can avoid the unavoidable no longer." You smile at him as you had when you first saw him, a soft thing, eyelashes kissing in the corners. "Please pick whichever one is gonna give you the least grief. Hello? Hi, Spence. No, I was doing something for Hotch. Yeah, I'd love to hear about it…"

Your voice fades as you leave the room, exiting with a wave and a private smile.

Hotch lets himself sit back in his chair but resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. You're gonna kill him, one day, all your pinks and flowers and shy smiles. He shakes it off because he has work to do, so much work, and if he starts thinking about you he won't stop, reaching into his desk for a file and coming up short.

There's a small plate inside, saran wrap covering what looks to be a half-dozen sugar cookies. A post it note brags their origin.

For Hotch and Jack,

They didn't have any blue icing at the store. P.S. Sorry for looking in your desk. I didn't see anything, swears.♡

#aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch hotchner

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graysweatsgrayhoodie · 9 months

Text

Idk why but I really like the idea of George being in a sweet and loving relationship with someone who is ready to throw hands with Fred at any given moment.

George and her making heart eyes at each other while her and Fred are silently plotting each others demise.

George laying in his bed, kicking his feet while he re-reads old letters from her, while Fred is laying in his own bed planning his prank to dye her hair vomit-green.

George would never pick sides, but he did get caught in the cross fire quite a bit.

One time, Fred tried to hex her books to make them weigh as if they were made of solid rock. However, George was the one who usually carried her books for her anyway. She tried to get him to let her carry at least some of them so it wouldn’t strain him so bad, but he insisted he was fine (the sweat on his brow and crease on his forehead said otherwise, but she knew better than to argue). Still he laughed with Fred about the joke, saying they should pull it again on someone else, mostly so that next time he could laugh along again, this time without his arms being sore for the days following.

She had tried to get Fred back the following day at dinner. She had cast an illusion spell on Fred’s food to make it look like his pasta had turned into dozens of little snakes writhing around in sauce. She had gotten the reaction she was hoping for as Fred let out a loud yelp and jumped up from his seat, throwing his plate in the air. Unfortunately, you hadn’t planned for Fred’s plate to land upside down right on top of George’s head, sauce and noodles sliding down his face.

Again he laughed along, finding Fred’s freaked out reaction funny, even if it meant he would have to take a shower before their date night that night.

While everyone else was always convinced that Fred and her would eventually kill each other, George saw their relationship in a different light. He always told them that the reason they did these things to each other was because, deep down, they both cared for each other and never really wanted to see each other in any real harm.

They both called him mad.

After she graduated from Hogwarts, George offered her a job at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, though he knew Fred would never agree to it. It took a lot of convincing and begging on George’s part, letting Fred know of her incredible organizational skills that both the twins severely lacked. Fred was only fully convinced when he saw the back room, that had been nearly impossible to sort through on a good day, had been organized so neatly a two-year-old could find the product they were looking for (she had to keep Fred in mind, of course). Besides, with her working there, Fred had every opportunity to send curious kids in her direction, telling them to test their products out on her, hoping to see her covered in boils or with a large purple tongue. She, of course did the same thing to him (it being in her favor more often than not as kids weren’t too keen on pranking such a pretty lady, much to Fred’s frustration and George’s agreement).

When George lost his ear, they had both silently agreed to put a hold on their shenanigans, both of them doing their parts to take care of him and not cause him too much stress.

That lasted a week.

Fred had superglued all of her shoes to the floor, making it very difficult for her to get to work in the morning. She retaliated by jinxing all his ties so that no matter how he tied them, the front strand would always be shorter than the back strand.

At least George had a nice relaxing week. It only took him getting his ear blown off.

When the war had reached its peek, and the Battle of Hogwarts began, all three of them were there to fight against the Dark Lord and his minions. She found herself fighting alongside Fred when she heard the beginnings of the wall behind them crumbling, meaning it was about to fall, and right on top of them. Fred hadn’t noticed, as he was making a comment to Percy, so she ran over to him quickly, tackling him to the ground, mostly out of the way, as the wall behind them fell. Some rocks and bricks landed on top of them, her taking the brunt of it as she was laying on his body, arms covering their heads. The fallen wall had rendered her unable to walk, and seeing as this place was swarming with enemies, Fred scooped her up and took her somewhere safer, sending curses and hexes toward anyone who tried anything funny.

George expressed how grateful he was after the battle had ended, thanking them both for saving each others lives and proving his point about them caring about each other.

“‘Saving each others lives,’” they had both scoffed. “Please, they would have been just fine without me.”

They would not have been.

“Besides,” they both continued, “I only helped them because if they had died, then George would be all mopey and sad about having to live the rest of his life without them. That’s all.”

But that day, they had both gotten their confirmation that neither of them hated each other nearly as much as they let on, and that maybe George was right.

Of course, they could never admit that, though. Because that would mean telling George he was right, and he would never let that go.

#george weasley x reader #fanfic #george weasley #fred weasley #george weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #harry potter #harry potter imagine #george weasley fluff #fred weasley fluff

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takecareluv · 2 years

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Hi!! I was wondering if you could write an imagine where the reader is dating Vinnie and is super positive and nice to everyone, but people tend to take advantage of her so Vinnie and her friends get protective of her when people try to take advantage of her kindness. My friends are really protective of me and thought that would be so cute! Thank you so much!! 💕

a.n. hi!! i’m sorry this took me so long to get out. i had started this before i left for vacation but never had the chance to finish it. i hope you like what i came up with! i loved this concept, thank you for sending it in <3 this is something i relate to so much, so writing it and having someone like vinnie be so protective over the reader is just 🥺🥺 i want that, please universe. i’m begging

sweetheart || vinnie hacker x reader

it was a known fact that you were an extremely positive person, and nine times out of ten, the kindest person in the room.

vinnie and the rest of your friends absolutely adored you for it. you were the sunshine they needed when times were tough. aiding them with a shoulder to cry on when need be, and the best advice anyone could ever give.

vinnie always swore you were an angel sent from heaven above.

while your friends never took your love and kindness for granted, there were a lot of others that did. people could clock your sweetness from a mile away, and in a place like l.a., they became greedy using you for it.

you didn't notice it as much, always wanting to see the best in people. but those closest to you, especially vinnie for that matter, would immediately detect when someone was taking advantage of your kindhearted ways and get super protective.

being in the influencer space, everyone and their mothers was searching for the next best clickbait to use on their upcoming posts. whether it was a person, scandal, or simply just a trendy product, nothing was off the table. you watched a lot of people lose their morals when given an ounce of fame.

with you and vinnie deemed the internet’s favorite couple, you had been receiving quite a bit of attention that other creators either envied, or saw as money signs. everyone knew a glimpse of you in their newest tiktok or vlog would gain them millions of views and a few extra bucks.

you didn’t like filming with those outside of your inner circle because of how shy and overwhelmed you got around new faces. but, being the people pleaser you were, you couldn’t say no when more and more creators coincidentally started asking you to collab.

you didn’t mind at first, it actually wasn’t as scary as you thought it would be and the people were nice enough.

you didn’t take notice to how much of a toll these collabs were taking on your mental health, thinking you were just tired due to the long filming hours you weren’t well acquainted with. but vinnie noticed. he saw how mentally drained you were each and every night coming home from filming with yet another “friend”. he clocked how little energy you had to do anything other than sleep. he had never seen you so unlike yourself, and he knew the exact reason behind it.

* ࣪. ⋆ ✧ ﾟ: * ♡ * : ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪ ♡ ࣪.* ࣪ ⋆ ✧ ﾟ: * ♡ * : ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.*

the following morning, he heard you moving around the room earlier than ever before. the sun was barely up, where could you possibly have to go? he thought to himself.

“baby, what are you doing up so early? come back to bed.” he grumbled, making grabby hands towards you.

“i can’t vin. i have to go meet (influencer name). she has a bunch of stuff to do today so this was the only time she could film.”

ah of course, yet another person making you form to their schedule, not even bothering to ask how that worked for you. not that it mattered, you were to sweet to ever mutter the word “no” to anyone.

he could hear the grogginess in your voice, you were exhausted. not to mention the bags under your eyes that not even layers of concealer could hide. he hated what you were doing to yourself. no, he hated what your so called friends were making you do this to yourself, clearly taking advantage of your kindness, although you would never see it that way.

he made his way out of your shared bed, quickly throwing on a pair of pants and a hoodie that had been previously discarded on the floor the night before.

you watched him confused. “vin what are you doing? go back to sleep, it’s early and you look tired.”

he dismissed your request, grabbing his keys and wallet from the bedside table before heading towards the door. “i’m coming with you.”

“what? vin you don’t have to do that. it’ll be boring,” you paused before continuing, “i mean don’t get me wrong, i would love for you to come but you should stay here and sleep. i don’t want you to be tired for stream later.” you attempted to counter, but vinnie already had his mind made up and nothing you could say would change that.

“it’s fine, baby. if i go, i can help anywhere you need and then we can come home sooner and both get some rest.” plus he could stand up for you against whatever entitled youtuber you would be filming beside today, but he of course wouldn’t admit that part out loud.

* ࣪. ⋆ ✧ ﾟ: * ♡ * : ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪ ♡ ࣪.* ࣪ ⋆ ✧ ﾟ: * ♡ * : ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.*

an hour later vinnie was sat quietly fuming while he watched you be bossed around by a girl he didn’t even bother to remember’s name.

“ugh, i forgot to grab the mic. can you go get it for me y/n? it’s in the other room.”

“i think the camera is too close. can you move it back for me?” “…a little closer than that.”

“wait this isn’t my good side, switch with me?”

the demands went on and on, you obliging to every last one of them.

vinnie was trying hard to hold back from screaming at this girl for taking advantage of you. he knew the cameras were rolling and the last thing he needed was for this girl to edit the footage, making vinnie look like the bad guy and ultimately getting more clickbait and money off the couple, just like she was desperate for.

so he remained quiet, hoping things would cool off once you began filming. however, that ended up being far from the truth.

every last question the girl asked you for the video was about your relationship with vinnie, some of which were very much intruding and personal. vinnie could tell you were growing more and more uncomfortable by the minute.

he knew how insecure you felt about people only ever caring about you for your relationship and connection to tiktok’s favorite boy, never bothering to ask about you or your own career.

he couldn’t watch this any longer.

abruptly standing up, which caught the attention of both you and the bitch girl sitting next to you, he grabbed your hand, pulling you up and out of the room to leave immediately.

“what the hell? where are you going?” the girl yelled.

vinnie switched the camera off before responding. “i’ve been sitting here all morning watching you boss around my girlfriend like you don’t have perfectly capable arms and legs to do shit for yourself if you just got off your lazy ass for once. and i’m sorry but i am not going to let that fly. y/n doesn’t owe you anything. in fact she did this as a favor to you considering you were the one begging for a collab. so i don’t know who you think you are treating her like she’s your fucking slave or something. and if you had any decency, you would realize everything you were asking her was clearly making her uncomfortable. you do know she is her own person right? there is so much more to her than our relationship. and if you can’t realize that, then you don’t get to use her for your own “clout” or whatever it is your after.”

the silence following vinnie’s rant was so loud, you could hear a pin drop.

the girl in front of you looked shocked, almost like she was on the verge of tears. clearly she was used to always getting her way and no one ever speaking to her in such a tone, no matter how many times she probably deserved it.

you stared at vinnie in awe. deep down you knew everything he said was true and you appreciated how he instantly came to your defense, saying everything you were too nice to even think, not caring who’s feelings he hurt as long as his girl was protected.

you could tell his mind was running a million miles per minute so you hastily dragged him out of there before he absolutely lost his shit on the girl, knowing it was soon coming.

once you made it out of the apartment and to vinnie’s car, you paused, pulling him to stand in front of you, seeing the anger still present on his face.

you tilted your head up to face him, moving your hands to stroke his cheeks, feeling him visibly relax at your touch. “breathe, baby, i need you to breathe for me. everything’s okay. i’m okay, i promise. i just need you to relax.” you spoke softly, trying to further calm him.

he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. “i’m sorry i yelled, i know how much you hate that. it’s just, it made me so angry seeing the way she was treating you, baby. you don’t deserve that. is this how it always is when you film with these people?” he questioned, worried that this was something you had to go through on the daily and he was only just now doing something about it.

you only nodded in response, tears flooding from your eyes, embarrassed that you constantly let everyone walk all over you. ashamed that you could never speak up for yourself, and most likely never would have if vinnie didn’t do it for you.

“fuck. i’m so sorry, baby. you shouldn’t of had to go through all that. i saw how drained you were, i should have been there sooner, said something sooner.”

“it’s not your fault, vin. you have no reason to apologize. i should have spoken up for myself. i don’t know why i can’t do it, i had ever reason to say something, but every time i would get too scared. like i would hurt their feelings, but instead i just let them hurt mine. i’m embarrassed that you even had to see that. god, i’m such a wimp.”

“hey, hey, hey. don’t get down on yourself for that. it only means that your a better, kinder person than they could ever be, okay? you are by far the sweetest person i have ever met and that is one of the reasons i love you. don’t ever think of that as a fault. the fact that you can stay this sweet amongst all the evil of this city and this industry is an amazing thing. never forget that, darling.” vinnie reassured you.

he looked down at you with so much love in his eyes, you knew everything he was saying was honest. and you fell deeper in love with him for it.

“thank you, vin. i love you so much.”

“not as much as i love you, sweetheart.”

#vinnie hacker x y/n #vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie hacker x you #vinnie hacker blurb #vinnie hacker fanfic #vinnie hacker imagine #vinnie hacker x reader #vinnie hacker

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cinnajun · 2 years

Text

ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: aftermath | ljn

summary | you're sick—it's unavoidable, you can't be healthy all the time. unfortunately, the night before you came down with the fever, you had a massive fight with your boyfriend, who is the only person available to take care of you.

genre | a bit of angst and fluff

wc | 1.3k

a/n: i don't think i've ever had a worse parasocial relationship than my one with jeno <3 peace and love hope u enjoy

jaemin's ver

SOMETIMES, you seriously think the world is out to get you.

As you lay in bed, curled up into a ball and coughing out a lung every couple of minutes, you wonder if you did something to deserve the past 24 hours of your life. You’d felt just fine yesterday, running every errand under the sun and having a genuinely productive day up until dinner.

Jeno was a good boyfriend, and your relationship was a good one—he never missed an anniversary, you didn’t fight often at all, and you had a good understanding of boundaries between one another. Of course, that didn’t mean you’d never experience a bump in the road, you just wish it hadn’t been so inconveniently timed.

You don’t even remember what you were arguing about at this point, all you know is that it was mostly your fault, and it wasn’t too kind of an argument. It ended with Jeno storming out of your apartment and disappearing into the city, leaving you to cry your eyes out for the rest of the night. Then, you woke up this morning with a high fever and weak lungs, and—with no one else to turn to—you sent Jeno a pathetic text about your current state of being.

Despite all your misgivings, the mean words you threw and the general lack of reasoning behind your actions the night before, Jeno showed up about 15 minutes after your initial text with a bag of various medicines and the biggest bottled water you’d ever seen in your life.

Right now, he was sitting in bed next to you, using your TV to play some random game with Jaemin and Renjun. You hadn’t outright talked to him for most of the day, but you’d laid right next to him for hours, and he got you every single thing you needed.

When it was time to eat, he made you soup and insisted that you ate it. He made sure you were drinking water. He kept tissues next to you at all times, and wet towels for you to place on your forehead. He took your temperature every few hours. He cleaned up your kitchen and bent at your will whenever you needed him to.

Even though you were so, so terrible to him the day before.

Quietly, you pushed yourself up from your curled position, sitting on the edge of the bed for a sec.

“Need something?” Jeno asked, a hint of concern seeping through the flat tone he’d been trying to keep up all day. You just shook your head, slowly standing up and trying not to pass out from the sudden wave of dizziness that hit you.

“Restroom,” you croaked back, cringing at the pain in the back of your throat. Your steps were slow and uncoordinated, to the point where Jeno kept his eyes on you for the entire time you approached the doorway. Faintly, you could hear Renjun yelling at him to play the game, and Jaemin giggling about it at the same time.

Once you made it out into the hall, you just about burst into tears. This was seriously the worst day you’d ever lived in your life—your head hurt, hell, your whole body hurt, you couldn’t go five minutes without coughing up a storm, you felt nauseous and dizzy and overwhelmed by the sickness your body was fighting. On top of that, your boyfriend was practically ignoring you, even if he was tending to your every need.

You took your final steps into the bathroom, flicking on the light and quietly closing the door behind you. Now feeling too weak to keep standing, you slid down the wall adjacent to the sink, shoving your face into your hands. You allowed the tears to flow, crying over how you felt, how awful the last day had been, and how guilty you felt towards your beloved boyfriend. All you wanted was a hug and reassurance that you’d be better soon, but all you got was cold stares and detached care, all of which was your fault.

If you had the energy, the voice to apologize, you would’ve ages ago, but with the knives in your throat, you could barely utter more than one word at once.

A sob escaped your throat, the pain ricocheting down your neck, and it only made you cry harder. You wanted to disappear yourself and never come back out if it meant you could just stop feeling like this.

Of course, Jeno knew you better than anyone else. He could always tell when something was wrong, and he always knew when to leave you alone or when to offer his help. Three knocks resounded on the bathroom door, rhythmic and slow, informing you of Jeno’s presence.

“Can I come in?” he asked, finally losing the monotony he’d carried throughout the day. Unsure of what you wanted at that moment, you just knocked on the door back, mimicking him. He took that as a yes, opening the door just a crack and slipping through it.

Wallowing in your self-pity, you brought your knees up to your chest and kept your eyes trained on the floor. You’d rather die than look at him right now.

Jeno sat down on the floor across from you with his back pressed up against the cabinets under your sink. For a moment, both of you sat there in silence, waiting for one or the other to fill the quiet void.

“Why are you crying?”

If you’d been in better spirits, the easy response would’ve been “why do you think?” but the thought of angering him more made you feel even sicker than before.

“I’m sorry,” you managed to croak out, trying to suppress the oncoming wave of tears you felt bunching at your eyes. If you cried any harder, you would’ve coughed a bit more than your lungs out.

Jeno let out a quiet scoff, making your stomach drop to the floor. This was the part where he broke up with you, or something, telling you to get a friend to come to take care of you. He’d take all of his stuff out of your apartment, from his extra gaming laptop to all of his workout stuff, and leave without a trace, leaving you on the bathroom floor.

“Come here,” he muttered, gently grabbing your wrist and tugging at your arm, waiting for you to comply. You didn't budge, but he just kept tugging, quietly nagging for you to listen. Slowly, you gave in to his request, pushing yourself across the floor and moving to sit next to him. “Not what I meant.”

With a quick pull, Jeno had you sitting up against him, arms draped around your waist and his head on top of yours. “I’m not mad right now. You don’t need more stress.”

There were a few more beats of silence, and, when Jeno confirmed to himself that you weren’t going to talk, he continued. “We were mean to each other last night. You weren’t the only offender—I started the whole thing. If anyone should apologize, it’s me. Especially for how I’ve treated you since this morning. I’m sorry.”

“You took care of me, though.”

“It doesn’t matter what I did, I wasn’t nice about it. Okay? Now everything is settled, and it’s all back to normal, and you can stop feeling worse than you need to.” Jeno leaned down and placed a kiss on your neck, squeezing your waist in the process. “We can watch a movie or something. And, when you feel better, we can talk about things if you want. But for now, rest up, and let me take care of you more."

thank you for reading! <3

#cinna.nct #nct dream x reader #jeno x reader #lee jeno x reader #jeno scenarios #jeno imagines #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct x reader #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #jeno fluff #nct imagines #nct scenarios #req

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skirter01 · 1 year

Text

DP x DC Pilot/Engineer Danny AU PT. 2

Link to Pt. 1 Here

Here *aggressively punts this into the phandom* just take it, just friggin take it.

“Bruce just walked into the foyer.”

“I know.”

“He’s getting into the elevator.”

“Cool.”

“Is there a reason you’re ignoring me?”

For the first time in at least three hours, Tim looked up from his laptop. It may have only been to send a rightfully deserved glare at the hovering Lucius Fox who had, for part of the last hour, been obsessively stalking the security cameras, but, it was enough to curb his train of thought entirely from the balance sheet he was trying to make sense of.

“Is there a reason you’re distracting me?” He snarked, shutting the laptop with a little more force than necessary and swivelling around to face the offender.

Lucius smirked playfully, and gestured to Tim’s now shut screen. “I was worried you were going to get square eyes. God help us you accidentally prove childhood scare tactics right.”

“Very funny. Maybe you should consider a career change.” Tim glowered at his fellow CEO, and jerked his head at the camera footage displayed behind the man. “He’s coming in for an impromptu inspection of the aerospace division, if you must know.”

True to his word after their discussion yesterday, Bruce had in fact turned up at Wayne Enterprises to conduct the invasive inspection. Honestly? Tim had been dreading it all morning.

The man’s brows furrowed. “Didn’t I just inspect–"

“You did.” Tim finished for him, spinning slightly in his revolving chair.

Lucius buffered. “At 9:30?”

Tim rolled his eyes and stood from his desk. “He originally said 10.”

Lucius frowned as he watched Bruce’s intimidating figure pop out of the elevator on their floor. “I do hope you’ve forewarned Mr Fenton.”

Tim shrugged (albeit a little guilty), because how was he supposed to explain that that was the opposite of what Bruce intended? This was a passive aggressive interrogation disguised as a business venture. Lucius wouldn’t approve, especially if he knew it was for personal interests.

His fellow CEO squinted with distrust, but didn’t follow up. So, he either knew that something fishy was going on and didn’t care to find out what for his own wellbeing, or, Tim was way more convincing than he thought. He was more inclined to believe the former. “Please don’t scare off the only nice aerospace employee we have. I happen to quite like Mr Fenton.”

Of course, he liked Mr Fenton. Who didn’t honestly? “No promises.” Tim chuckled darkly as he made his way to the door. He had barely reached for the handle when it was swung open by a force other than his own.

“Morning–" Bruce stopped his tracks, obviously not prepared for Tim being right in front of him, but he recovered quickly. Tim delighted in being able to catch The Batman off guard for once. “Oh. Tim. Well, I suppose we’ll be off then.”

“Morning to you too.” He grumbled sarcastically, stepping around his adopted father and into the hallway. “C’mon – work to do.”

---

The moment Bruce stepped out of the elevator and onto the aerospace floor, chaos erupted.

Engineers who were originally sipping on warm coffee and chatting calmly with their co-workers erupted into a flustered mess of ‘Mr Wayne!’ ‘Good morning Sir!’ ‘Sorry about the mess’ ‘We weren’t expecting you today’ as they scuttled around cleaning up wayward blue prints and feigning productive work habits.

Bruce glanced at the young CEO at his side, taking note of the sour expression starting to slowly creep over his son's face. Tim had always carried a special type of hatred for the aerospace division. A hatred unlike that for the driver that splashes you on the sidewalk, but more akin to that for the barista who forgets to add sugar to your coffee, it was a peculiar grudge that was formed long before Daniel Fenton stepped in the limelight. Bruce had his theories, but he was inclined to believe it was mostly due to the employee’s - engineers were notoriously difficult to deal with, let alone manage. Respect was earned, not given.

“Mr Wayne, Sir?” He was drawn from his thoughts by a young intern, clipboard in hand, standing before him, (although clearly reluctantly if his quivering hands were any indication, could he hold the clipboard any tighter?). “M-my name is Ivan, is there anything I can do for you today?”

Bruce softened at the intern's nervous stutter, and pulled on a gentle smile. Clearly someone had put him up to this. “Hello Ivan. Thank you for greeting us. There is indeed something you can do for me.” He extended a hand, fighting not to cringe at the sweaty one that shook it.

Even so, he watched as Ivan visibly relaxed at the calm greeting, tension loosening slightly from his shoulders, and his hands easing from the clipboard. “You name it, I’ll have it done.” The boy said somewhat breathily, relief oozing from his words, although there was still apprehension in his eyes.

“Excellent. I’m actually looking for your new manager, Mr Fenton? Is he around?”

“Oh! You mean Danny?” And just like that, Ivan warped into an almost different person. He visibly brightened at the mention of his supervisor, and a newfound swagger seeped through his professional façade, almost like he’d finally been able to grasp some confidence. Bruce pursed his lips, wondering at the casual use of Mr Fenton's first name, how long had he been employed now? “He’s not in right now - normally doesn’t start till 10am on Wednesday’s. But he won’t be long.” Ivan stated, an easy smile overtaking his face.

Bruce caught Tim’s knowing smirk at the mention of Mr Fenton’s start time, and he landed a heavy-handed pat to his son's back, ever the impression of fatherly praise. “Oh, I see. Tim and myself were just looking to have a chat. Would you perhaps be able to show us to his office?” Tim jolted forward at the force of the disguised blow, his winded cough covered by a clever throat clear

“Yes.” Tim tried to muffle his wheeze, straightening his tie distractedly. “We’ll be happy to wait for him to arrive.” Bruce pretended to ignore the glare he caught in his peripheral.

Ivan grinned, motioning outwards with the clipboard to the narrow walkway between desks and gigantic computer systems. “Of course, please follow me.”

Bruce exchanged a brief glance with Tim, watching his son roll his eyes slyly, before waving his hand dramatically, in an ‘after you’ motion. Not feeling the need to lean into the teasing from his second youngest, Bruce took a long, meaningful stride past his son, offering a mocking wink as he did and following Ivan’s brisk pace.

They walked through the majority of the first sector, to where Bruce assumed the higher ranked engineer’s typically made their sanctuary (sound proofed and private offices galore), only they stopped just before that. He was surprised to find their brief tour halting at a small unassuming desk, directly in the central hustle of the aerospace sector. It was a semicircle, standing workspace that was without a doubt the furthest thing from tidy. Its surface was littered with blueprints, loose paper and an array of colourful markers (most in shades of green), to the point where things were actually scattered on the floor, and the computer of its far side was unlocked to a cluttered, neon green desktop.

Bruce watched as Tim’s entire face scrunched in obvious disgust, and couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony. (Although his son’s workspace and documents were typically organised, the boy's bedroom left something to be desired.) “See what I mean?” Tim grumbled under his breath.

Bruce hummed. “I’ll make my judgments face to face.” It was the truth, after all, he was well aware of the mistakes that came from judging a book only from its cover. He turned to Ivan, ignoring Tim’s disapproving grunt, “This is Mr Fenton's…Office?” He questioned wryly, trying to pry information from the young intern before he was to meet the man himself.

Ivan blushed slightly, and a hand went to rub at the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah…He calls it an office, but I suppose it’s more of a workspace, I guess. He means well.” He assured, before checking his watch. “Mr Fenton should be here any moment, sorry about the wait, he’s normally not this…” Ivan trailed off, distracted by a slight commotion at the entryway and a grin spread over the intern's pale lips. “Ah, right on time.”

Through the commotion Bruce caught a tall, lanky figure weaving through a crowd of energised engineers.

“Morning D!

“Fenton, where've you been?”

“D-dog, fancy seeing you here!”

A chorus of fond greetings filled the room, and Bruce was actually unsettled by the amount of excitement the arrival of one Mr Fenton could cause. (It was starkly different from his own.) He could actually tangibly feel the shift in atmosphere from the morning blues to energised productivity.

Bruce’s first deduction when Daniel Fenton split from the crowd was that he was a lot taller in person. Bruce had never been self-conscious about his height, in fact, he was proud to be comfortably on the taller side at roughly 6’2, but as Daniel made his way over, he was disturbed to find the young man easily had a few inches on him.

However, despite that, he didn't appear the threatening corporate type (not that Bruce had expected him too). His dark button up and black dress pants were too casual to be intimidating, and although his height certainly gave him presence, his lankier stature took away from any authority it would have garnered - the kid (because he was young enough to be one) was practically just long bones, sharp edges and lean muscle (if any).

It was a wonder how he managed to get anyone to listen to him. Let alone the aerospace engineers.

“Heya Danny.” Ivan shuffled forwards to greet the young supervisor as he made his way over to them.

Fenton didn't miss a beat, and turned all his attention to the intern. “Sup Iv’e. Good to see you buddy.” He stuck out a hand for a fist bump, which the intern eagerly returned. “How’d that Uni test go yesterday?”

Ivan shrugged as Daniel threw his satchel onto the cluttered desk, squishing paper as he did. “Good actually, thanks for helping me out with the practice questions.”

And in just those few sentences, Bruce could tell exactly why Daniel Fenton had the utmost respect of the aerospace division. No wonder they all spoke so highly of him, his interpersonal skills were brilliant.

“That’s awesome!” Mr Fenton praised, and patted him on the shoulder fondly, before turning to his desk and shuffling his documents. “And who are our guests?”

“Thanks” Ivan said sheepishly, before his eyes darted back to meet Bruces, and he seemed to remember the reason why he was standing by his supervisor's desk. “Oh! Right. Danny, this is Mr. Bruce Wayne, and you’ve already met Mr. Timothy Drake, they’ve been waiting to have a chat with you.”

Daniel turned then, and Bruce was surprised to find a pair of dark aviators peering over at them, completely obscuring the bright blue eyes he was expecting to see. “Ah, Mr Wayne, it's a pleasure, I was wondering when I’d be seeing you.”

Bruce cleared his throat, and stuck out a hand to shake. “Please, call me Bruce, and the pleasure is all mine, Mr Fenton. Introductions were long overdue.”

“Well in that case, call me Danny. Mr Fenton makes me sound old as hell.” Daniel-Danny said, that iconic impish troublemaker smile he’d witnessed in his photo making its way onto his face, revealing two rows of strangely sharp, white teeth. Maybe too sharp, surely that wasn’t normal? “So, what can I do you two gentlemen for? Nice to see you by the way Tim.”

A forced smile scraped across Tim’s face, and Bruce fought the urge to laugh as Danny moved to shake his son’s hand next. Tim looked like he’d sucked on a lemon. “Nice to see you as well. Bruce was looking to do an inspection on the aerospace division, would you mind showing him around?”

Danny’s grin didn't waver. “An inspection. Well let’s hope we’re up to scratch.”

Bruce chuckled at the manager's sly humour. “Let’s hope so. Although…” He pointed a finger towards Danny’s aviators. “I do have to question if sunglasses inside are appropriate for the workplace, Mr Fenton.”

“Oh these?” Danny’s grin widened, but he made no move to remove the shades, clearly unperturbed by Bruce’s warning tone. “I’ve got an eye thing.”

“Is that so?”

“Mm. Apparently some people find them unsettling. I’ll be happy to forward you a doctor's note.” He stated, flicking the frames fondly.

Bruce narrowed his eyes, but did not pry. He supposed Daniel was a pilot, and he could admit, the aviators did suit him. “No, that won’t be necessary.” He planted a friendly smile back on his face. “So, that tour?”

“Of course!” Danny said happily, and Bruce could have sworn he saw something flash behind those shades. “Let’s go!”

Bruce turned to find Tim already looking at him, a sleek brow raised in question. “Believe me now?”

Bruce didn't respond. He didn't need to. Because yes, there was something very strange about Daniel Fenton and it wasn’t just his good looks.

Wow, you made it down here, bonkers. In other words, this seemed to be a hit, so we’ll continue. Might turn it into a fic, we’ll see, I’ve got some other shenanigans up my sleeve.

Also I got no clue if those mentions worked or not, tags and I have a love hate relationship. So if you can see someone that ain’t tagged properly. Tag em. Thanks!

@starkcravingmad @always-be-a-stranger @kiwwles @terrasolstice @angelheartgamer @potatoeofwisdom @ectoplasm024 @that-dumbass-on-a-horse @obsessedwithstarwars @nervousperfectionandroid @mimilikey @the-archer-goddess @terzatheunderscorerima @neutralghostchild @ae-vixrose @markus209 @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @mayoota-blog1 @cottonscrambles @bumblebeug @kyrianclawraith @that-blue-thing-in-the-bathroom @mysticalcomputerdetective

#dc x dp crossover #dc x dp fanfic #Tim Drake #bruce wayne #danny fenton is a little shit #nasa danny #danny is the moment #danny got the freaky eyes #danny got jacks height i know just take it #my tags don't work help

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pullingyourstrings · 1 year

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Headcanon: Eddie Munson is a menace as a boyfriend. Here's a few things he definitely does:

• Turns off the bedroom lights and leave you in the dark because he thinks it's funny to hear you shriek.

• Flirts with you in public while pretending not to know you.

• Calls you in the middle of the night to ask the most unhinged questions that are really not important and could definitely wait until morning.

• Pretends to give you a massage only to attack you with tickles.

• When you're crouching on the ground he'll tip you over so you loose balance and fall.

• If you have long hair he'll steal all your scrunchies and hairclips.

• Uses all your beauty products and denies it later. "What do you mean?! I smell nice like this naturally, thank you very much"

• Doesn't order food for himself because "he's not hungry" but the second your food arrives at the table, he's picking on your plate. Eats the last fries everytime.

• Tries to bribe you into doing things for him because he's lazy. "If you roll this joint for me I'll wash the dishes later, I promise" He did not, in fact, wash the dishes later.

• Turns off the videogame before saving when you win because he's a sore loser.

• Likes playing footsies with you. It never ends well because he's competitive and kicks you too hard at some point. Feels bad and apologizes later though.

• Starts food fights whenever you cook together. He promises he won't, but still does it everytime.

• Makes up silly little songs about everyday activities and sings them to you all the time.

• Tries to carry/manhandle you and fails miserably. Trips over himself while holding you bridal style and drops you.

NSFW (ish?) ⚠️

• Slaps your butt when you're going upstairs in front of him.

• Steals your underwear. Don't ask.

• Playfully talks to your genitals like it's a separate being, gives it a cute name and everything.

• Teases you in public, whispering naughty things in your ear.

• Also likes to come up behind you on stores/supermarkets and get very close, so close your back is pressed against him, only to reach for something in front of you and leave.

• Smirks when he leaves you flustered. "Aw, are you blushing baby?" Fucking idiot.

• Teases you about your kinks. Not in a mean way, just an annoying way. "Look babe! You like those!" while pointing at something that involves it. Does it in public too just to see you get embarrassed.

• Loves licking and biting you for no reason. If he sees any parts of your skin exposed? He will lick and bite you, be prepared.

• Won't stop talking during sex. You have to kiss him or make him suck on your fingers because he just won't shut up. It's not even dirty talk either, he's just rambling away because his brain stopped working.

• Blows raspberries on your tummy and thighs during sexy times. Yes you've asked him to stop multiple times. No he absolutely won't stop because he likes hearing you giggle. Somehow it doesn't ruin the mood.

#I'll add to this post when I think of more things lol!#if you have any headcanons like these and you want to share pls send me an ask #I'll add them too!#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie munson headcanons #boyfriend!eddie munson #eddie x gn!reader #eddie x fem!reader #stranger things 4 #no thoughts only eddie

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tanith-rhea · 1 year

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Only Pretending #9

Word count: 2.2k Author's note: Ok, so that's it! My first ever long(ish) fic for the Larissa Weems cult fandom! @anti-bright-places, thank you so much for this wonderful request. I had a lot of fun writing this one and it was all for you. I hope you enjoyed the ride.

“Glad to see you back alive,” Vlad drawled as he sat beside you at the table. Chatter once again filled Nevermore as the students used their lunch time to update their friends on all the break gossip.

You smiled at him. By his cheeky grin and upturned nose, you guessed he had received the blood you and Larissa got on the way back for him. You didn’t know much about outcast society, but Larissa looked far too adorably excited when you asked if she knew a place that sold beverages for vampires and diverged a bit from your original route to take you to “my favourite winery around these parts. I’ll buy some more cherry for you and maybe a bottle of scotch.”

“Do you understand me now?” he asked, surprising you since you were expecting an “I told you so” or “Got into her skirt, then?”

With a fondness only Vlad managed to ignite in you, you replied, “Yes. I know behind all the shenanigans and scheming there’s wisdom, which is frankly irritating. And you were right… we were very blind, weren’t we?”

“Frustratingly so, yes,” he said with a deadpan, “But also very amusing. I’m only a bit sad that I don’t have free entertainment anymore.”

“Hey!” you shoulder-bumped him, but you were both chuckling.

“I’m proud of you.”

“Shush, stop being nice and call me an idiot child for taking so long,” he laughed at that, earning the attention of a few other staff in the room.

“Oh, I will. I just thought you’d appreciate recognition before weeks of berating,” he chuckled a bit more, kissed your cheek and puffed into a bat, flying away.

Classes went as productively as one might expect after a break, but you didn’t mind too much since you were also in high spirits. Listening to some students talk, you even discovered that there were some normie communities in which outcasts could go trick or treating safely and enjoy the date with other kids and made a mental note of mentioning it to Larissa. You knew it would make her smile.

On Larissa’s note, Enid seemed to have kept her word, for no one looked at you any differently and you heard no whispering teens when you walked through the corridors. You and Larissa weren’t the talk of the school, even if, for some reason, you’d wished Enid would have said something and everyone would have known by now.

Of course, you trusted the girl, but at the same time, it meant that you would have to make the decision. Maybe Larissa would want to wait for Christmas break, and you could understand that, but it also meant keeping away from her in public. No handholding, no longing looks. It would be torture, but you’d endure.

You wouldn’t have to behind closed doors though, and that’s why as soon as classes had ended, you went to your quarters to shower and wear something comfortable before hurrying to her office, where you knew she was still working.

You knocked, and a curt “Come in” sounded from within. You could bet and win that she hadn’t taken a break the entire day.

She was, as predicted, typing on her laptop when you entered. When she glanced up to see it was you, she stopped and gave you a small smile.

“Let me guess, you drank no water and ate nothing the entire day.”

She arched a brow with and smiled smugly, “I made sandwiches and tea this morning.”

“How much tea?”

“A cup?”

“For an entire day?” it was your turn to look smug as you walked around her desk to recline against it in front of her, successfully blocking her view of her arm extension of a laptop.

She didn’t stop you when you leant forward to leave a chaste kiss on her lips, just held your face to keep you close a little more.

“Your mouth is dry,” you whispered, dropping the smug act, “I think you’ve worked enough for the day.”

Larissa’s office led to her private quarters. You had to chuckle at the paralleled to her work and life balance, that her office and bedroom were separated by a simple oak door.

“That’s how you always know where people are when you send for them?” you mused, looking through the windows at the other end of the room. Combined with her office, Larissa had a good view of two of the three sides of the school that weren’t surrounded closely by the forest.

“I think the ones who lived here before the school liked to have an idea of where the house staff were at.”

“And it doesn’t hurt now when you want to spy on your own staff,” you arched an eyebrow, looking back at her, Larissa’s indignant face was priceless.

“I’ll have you know I have much more important things to do than spying on you, you little-“

“I never said me…”

She was stunned silent for a beat too long, “Anyone, for that matter!”

You tsked, enjoying too much riling her up, “I don’t think Wednesday would agree with you on that front.”

“Oh, the girl had trouble written all over her and you are starting to seem the same. Should I keep an eye on you?” she approached, more comfortable having earned a blush from you.

“I don’t remember complaining…” you breathed, and her hand circled your waist, bringing you closer.

“Imbalance of power, stalker behaviour, any other red flags that turn you on?” you snorted very unprettily, hiding your face on her chest.

“Fuck you. You know damn well it’s because it’s you,” one of her hands came up to your back, encasing you in her warmth.

Her voice was soft when she spoke. “I’m honoured you trust me,” then she distanced herself a bit, only to come back for your lips.

She kissed you slowly as if savouring the taste of your mouth like good wine, deeply and focused, committed to cataloguing every inch of it to memory, every movement and your response; how your hands fisted her dress when she sucked on your lower lip, the way your breath faltered when she bit down on it, and how you melted when her fingers wove themselves into your hair and kept your head in place.

You were completely at her mercy and all she did was kiss you for a few minutes. It was impressive how you could disregard your need for air, but in your defence, you had something far more important to focus on.

Her hand on your waist brought you with her to the large bed in the middle of the room. You had a faint memory of how tastefully decorated her chambers were, but the soft-looking duvet atop the enormous mattress was clear in your mind’s eye as if burnt behind your lids.

She turned to sit you on it without ever breaking the kiss, kneeling in front of you. When her hands descended to the waistband of your trousers you scolded yourself for wearing simple black cotton panties. She would probably be wearing lace, looking divine with desire burning in her mesmerizing eyes, although you could argue that she looked breathtaking in anything, anyhow.

She unceremoniously hooked her fingers in the waistband and pulled your trousers down, with efficiency and grace you had only ever seen her sport. Her fingertips travelled from your ankles, through your calves and to your thighs; you were struggling to breathe more than ever, and she noticed, leaving your lips with a small smile.

“Let me take care of you,” she whispered, and her hoarse tone betrayed how affected she was by the little you had done so far.

In a titillating show of strength, she laid you on the bed and straddled you. You had barely any time to recover before she descended onto your jaw and neck, sucking extendedly where one met the other; you could feel your pulse against her tongue accelerate more and more.

“Larissa…” your white-knuckled fingers held her shoulder and nape desperately as you whined her name, asking for what you weren’t sure since what she was doing could (ashamedly) very well finish you.

“Shh, darling. Be patient.”

You wanted to say you would love to, but your body wasn’t interested in being so. You almost did, but then one of Larissa’s hands slid underneath your sweatshirt, leaving a path of goosebumps in its wake, and you weren’t able to concentrate enough to vocalize any previous thoughts.

Her fingers found your breasts, and she circled and pinched your nipples while continuing her exploration of your neck, slowly making her way to the little of your collarbones she had access to.

Her weight on your legs kept you from moving too much, but it didn’t stop you from writhing and rising your back from the bad, muscles tightening under her expert attention. You took deep breaths in and held them for as long as possible in the hope of some sense of relief but to no avail.

Interrupting her torture for a few seconds, Larissa occupied herself with pulling off your top. You weren’t given too much time to recover, though, because she would lavish every new expanse of uncovered skin with loving kisses.

Once you had only your underwear on, Larissa sat back, appraising you with deep breaths and hungry eyes.

“You are perfect,” she murmured as her gaze came from your body straight to your eyes, “Absolutely exquisite,” she breathed and, in a second, she was at your mouth again, fiery and demanding.

Her hands gripped the back of your thighs, bringing your legs over her shoulders. You tried to grind against her, and you almost thought she didn’t let you on purpose, but soon enough you felt fingers pressing on your drenched panties.

Larissa’s small laugh on your mouth had your hips jerking, throwing yourself against her fingers. She swallowed your loud mewl with a hum, massaging your clit over the fabric with her thumb.

“See?” she muttered, “Such a perfect, good little girl.”

You whined in protest, and electricity ran through your body at her arched brow and rumbling words.

“Oh? You’re not a good girl?” she asked, innocently, and you shook your head desperately, unable to form words and dying for her to read you, “So you’re what? My plaything?”

“Fuck…” you breathed pathetically as her index and middle fingers started tracing up and down your entrance.

“I didn’t know I had found myself a whore,” she grumbled close to your ear and sucked into your lobe.

You felt like a teenager again. The power she had over you was unparallel to any other person you’d ever been with. She rendered you into a pitiful mess of hormones.

“Let’s see if you can take me like one, then,” she growled and knelt back on the bed, your legs falling from her shoulders as she took off your underwear and threw it somewhere on the floor.

You had half a moment to brace yourself for what was to come, and then you felt it; Larissa’s tongue deepening into your entrance, making its wait to your clit, her lips closing around your hardened bud and sucking.

You screamed. Your thighs clenched in her grasp, threatening to close around her head. She let you, you knew she could keep you from it, she was stronger than you, but she hummed as your trembling legs encircled her, heels pressing onto her back and shoulder blades.

One of her hands traced the inside of your thigh as it made its way between your legs and soon enough you felt a finger pressing inside you, almost immediately finding its goal. Your eyes watered and even tightly shut tears escaped them and ran down your temple.

You were too lost in sensation to think about anything. You gripped Larissa’s hair, shrieking and panting, so close it almost drove you mad. She sucked and circled your clit with her tongue, fingering you faster and faster, how wanted to yell for more, demand release, and then you didn’t have to.

With your grip on her hair, Larissa moaned languidly, vibration and her sharp intake of breath against your heated flesh sent you over the edge with a scream.

Your entire body trembled with aftershocks, Larissa licked and kissed you til it was almost too much. Unabashedly revelling on your pleasure. When your legs started to relax, she planted small kisses on them and finally came up to you.

With all the energy you could muster, you brought a hand to her face, guiding her down to kiss you. You tasted yourself in her mouth and hummed, a satisfied smile twisting your lips. The fondness in her eyes as you parted made your heart hurt.

“Give me a minute,” you breathed, “I want you to sit on my face.”

You didn’t know how long you were laying together. Larissa absentmindedly stroked your hair behind your ears and away from your shoulders, leaving your back bare.

Tucked on her neck, you could smell her; the scent of sex and Larissa should be forbidden, the risk of it driving someone to madness way too high to afford; you in particular.

“Now that we’re back… will you… want to keep us secret?” you had told yourself you would understand her, but you couldn’t keep your voice from sounding small and insecure.

Larissa shifted underneath you, her hand travelling down from your shoulder to your back as she laid you in the bed and hovered over you.

“Pretending to date you was hard enough. I don’t think I’d be able to pretend not to date you now,” she whispered and leant down to kiss you again.

Tags are as follows: @anti-bright-places, @pro-weems-places, @the-bagel24, @regalbootie, @tundra1029, @thoroughly-confused-kiwi-blog, @lilsmeaux, @poorwritingandstalecoffee, @alder-saan, @jelly-frogss, @enchantressb, @imean-its-just-me, @lvinhs, @iloveyall-18, @kimiinou, @jeweleegrey, @a-queen-and-her-throne, @one-pining-queer, @paulsonwifey, @winterfireblond and @bobia13

For the lovelies who stuck around until the end, I have a little surprise. I edited the fic into an EPUB, and will be linking it here, as well as in the Archive of Our Own version. Thank you so much for all the love, you made all the difference.

#only pretending #fake/pretend relationship #larissa weems #principal weems #larissa weems x reader #teacher!reader #normie!reader #female reader #smut #that's all folks

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amberlynnmurdock · 9 months

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Blind Faith (Ch. 11)

Chapter Eleven: Logic Games

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: You start noticing things about Matt you haven't noticed before. Nelson & Murdock receives an invitation to the annual Bar Dinner at the New York Courthouse.

A/N: Here's the next update! This chapter really sets the plot of the story. I guess this is the start of "Act 2." I can't wait to read what you all think is going to happen. AHHH. So much more to come! Enjoy!! :)

TAGS: @starry-night-20 @sumsytee @queerqueenlynn @mattmurdocksstarlight @marvelcinematiquniverse

AO3 Link

Hell’s Kitchen

Another few weeks have gone by without seeing him.

You didn’t dare think of his name, whomever he was. It wasn’t fair you gave him all that time, all that attention, all that affection, just for him to take it for granted and hurt you the way he did. Never again. You solidified it by throwing his burner phone in your apartment dumpster. You really didn’t need him to save you anymore.

At least the last few weeks have been more productive than ever. Instead of going out, you stayed in. You enjoyed the quiet in the apartment. It was just you, your LSAT textbook, and your corner desk that gave you a view of the city. If he ever crossed your mind, it was only for a second. A second that made your heart feel like it weighed a thousand pounds. And the moment he left your mind, the weight was gone.

Well, it was the summer of falling in love with vigilantes, you’d say. A summer you’d never forget—a story you’d be passing down like an urban legend. No one knew of this but only you and him.

Summer was almost at an end, but your studying wasn’t letting up. If anything, it only got more intense as each night went on. You fervently highlighted concepts of logic games, reading comprehension, and logical reasoning. You were on your second notebook now, a notebook filled with explanations of answers and helpful tips to keep in mind. It was satisfying to see how much you’ve gotten done.

You snuck in a few studying sessions before work, too. You started getting to the office even earlier. It was easier to forget him when you weren’t at home. So being at the office was a helpful distraction. It helped you focus on things at hand, not things your mind sometimes betrayed you to think of. Instead of thinking of his hands on your waist, you felt how your office chair hugged your body when you leaned back. Instead of thinking of your lips on his, you felt your lips burn at your first sip of coffee. Instead of thinking of all the times you’ve waited for him on your rooftop, you waited for Matt’s arrival to join you in the office.

And, maybe you never noticed this before, but you certainly were starting to now. One morning, Matt had come in shortly after you. You did your normal morning routine of fixing him up a cup of coffee, to which he politely declined. Slowly putting the cup back in its place, Matt walked by you in the kitchen, and you saw blood dripping down the side of his face. The gasp that left your mouth betrayed you.

“What’s wrong?” Matt asked, his brows furrowed behind his dark red glasses.

“I—you’re bleeding,” you said slowly, as you began to closely inspect his wound. It was coming from his temple, poorly covered by a thin bandage. You grabbed for a napkin and before dabbing his wound, you paused.

“Can I help you clean it? It’s pretty gnarly. It might get on your shirt,” you offered in a small voice. “And you’ve got that hearing later today.”

“Yeah,” Matt said after some hesitation.

You washed your hands before removing the small bandage from his right temple. Using the napkin, you dabbed at his wound gently—you couldn’t help but wonder how on earth he hurt himself like this. Then again, he was blind…but you didn’t want to offend him.

“How’d you get this?” You asked as casually as you could.

“I bent down to get something in my bathroom cabinet,” Matt explained, “I hit my head on the door. I must’ve missed when putting my bandage on. Y’know,” he shrugged sheepishly. You dabbed his wound and tried to ignore the small space between you and your boss. He leaned on the counter with his left hand, his head tilted in the dimly lit kitchen for you to have access to his wound. You were so close, you could smell a hint of his cologne.

You found a first aid kit that was nearly out of bandaids in the kitchen. Noted. You would pick some up along with coffee and plates tomorrow.

“I don’t mean for you to take this the wrong way, but have you ever considered a guide dog?” You asked. You placed a brand new bandage that completely covered his wound. Crumpled the bloody napkin and threw it in the trash. Matt let out a soft chuckle.

“You’re not the first who’s suggested that,” Matt answered. “I don’t think I could handle a dog. I get by on my own fine, save for a few head bumps.”

“True,” you felt obliged to agree. “Well, you’re all set. Hopefully, the bandaid lasts all day. If not, I can play Nurse again.” Play nurse. That sounded so wrong, you thought. Dammit.

Matt grinned, tapping his covered wound. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you said. Matt cleared his throat and left the kitchen for his office. You found your place in your seat, closed your LSAT textbook, and began to work on files for Nelson & Murdock.

Later in the day, before Matt’s hearing, you changed his bandaid again, in his office. Door closed. Karen was on the phone with someone in the conference room and Foggy was locked in his office writing a brief.

You changed Matt’s bandaid. He was silent as he sat in his chair, letting you clean his wound again. You had nothing to say. But you couldn’t shake the strange feeling you got when you noticed how pained he looked, even behind his dark red glasses. It wasn’t as bloody anymore; it shouldn’t hurt anymore. But you were close enough to see how hurt he looked. Jaw clenched, brows furrowed, eyes closed. He didn’t say anything. Did it hurt that bad?

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

Another day in the week, you were really starting to go through the motions of forgetting about him. It was so hard to forget how he made you feel at night. Not just the way he pleased you, but the way he made you feel safe. How you felt so much yourself around him, a stranger in the night. Except he didn’t feel like a stranger at all. How could you feel so passionately for someone whose identity you didn’t know?

These thoughts plagued your mind; it was hard to detach emotionally. Emily was a psychology major. What was it she said about physical and emotional attachments? It took longer for emotional attachments to go away? Well, it’s only been a month now. August was upon the city. And still, you thought of the emotions he stirred in you.

Instead of leaving the office at five, like everyone else, you asked if it was okay for you to study for the LSAT in the conference room after hours.

“Are you sure?” Foggy asked, scrunching his nose. “I mean, I don’t mind, but I can’t imagine being stuck in the office for more than eight hours.”

“I want to,” you said, “the conference table is big enough for my books. Plus, it’s Friday night, and my roommates will be loud before they head out.”

“As long as you feel safe,” Karen added. “Text us if you need anything. It can get pretty dark in this area.”

“I’ll be fine.” An image of him flashed in your mind. You didn’t need him anymore. You never did.

“I’ll be staying late,” Matt interjected, coming out of his office. “I have a few files to catch up on.”

Karen exhaled a sigh of relief. You appreciated how concerned she was for your safety. “Okay. Okay, good.” After working here for a few months, you understood Karen has probably seen the worst of this city in ways you can’t even imagine.

“Great! Well, I guess Josie’s is off the books tonight. Unless you guys wanted to meet us in an hour or so?” Foggy asked.

“Maybe,” you were open to the idea. “Let me know where you are in two hours. And hopefully, I get enough studying in so I don’t feel guilty.”

“Awesome! Hopefully, we’ll see you later.”

Karen and Foggy left, and Matt returned to his office. You sat at the conference table for a while, completely immersed in your textbook. Your mind felt clear and focused as you took notes and answered practice problems. Copying down explanations, reading passages carefully.

A knock came on the conference door. Of course, it was Matt.

“Hey,” he greeted quietly. “How’s studying going?”

“Good,” you answered, “I’m starting to get the hang of it all. Taking practice tests. Logic games are a little tricky.”

Matt smiled, “Logic games were my favorite part of the test.”

“It’s possible to have a favorite part?” You asked incredulously. Matt laughed.

“Sometimes, it’s not about the analysis of the test, but your mindset going into it. Don’t treat it like something you have to do; treat it like a hobby.”

“Interesting,” you thought aloud. “Next study session, I’ll have to think of it that way. I don’t want to get burned out.”

“Definitely don’t get burned out,” Matt agreed. “You’ll need to be sharp on test day.”

“I know,” you said, “I’m finding a balance.” He leaned against the wall in the conference room, hands in his pockets. Your eyes trailed down to his hands. You saw how red his knuckles were. Bruised, basically.

“Did you fall, or hurt yourself again?” You asked him. Caught off guard, Matt looked confused. “Your knuckles,” you added.

“Oh,” Matt took his hands of out his pockets and kept them behind his back. “You know me.”

You worried, for some reason. But you didn’t press the situation.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind helping you with any LSAT studying,” Matt offered, “if you wanted.”

“I’d like that,” you answered, your mind trailing off from his red knuckles. “I’ll use any help I can get. I don’t want to pay for any tutors.”

“I have some time now?” Matt asked. You thought for a moment. It’s been a while since you’ve done anything else but study, and Foggy’s offer of Josie’s was tempting.

“Maybe we should meet them at Josie’s,” you suggested. “I could use a drink.”

On your way to Josie’s, you walked with Matt, his hand gently on your elbow, cane tapping in front of him. You couldn’t take your eyes off his red knuckles the whole time.

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

The following Monday, Foggy got the mail from the box outside. He flipped through the envelopes: bill, bill, Super Lawyers magazine, bill, and then suddenly, a large, tapered envelope with a gold stamp appeared in the bunch. It was from the New York Courthouse. Foggy ripped open the envelope and pulled out another tapered paper, with cursive writing and a gold trim.

The New York Courthouse cordially invites Nelson & Murdock to the Bar Dinner. Please visit us on Friday, August 18th, promptly at 7 PM. Join us for a four-course meal and open bar. Please RSVP by the end of the week, and who will be joining us from your law firm. Maximum two guests.

“Matt! Matt!” Foggy came running into Matt’s office, shutting the door behind him. “We got invited!”

“We? For what? Is someone getting married?” Matt asked brows scrunched, one earplug in his ear.

Foggy sighed, “No, you idiot, to the Bar dinner! Our first invite!” Foggy read the invite aloud, and his face dropped when he realized the date.

“Oh no,” Foggy said, “it’s on the 18th. I’m going to a wedding. Marci’s cousin—damn it! I’ll be gone the whole weekend. Maybe Karen can—“

“The 18th? Karen’s on PTO. Visiting her father in Vermont,” Matt remembered. “There’s always next year, Fog.”

“No, Matt—we have to go this year. At least, one of us! And it’s got to be you,” Foggy demanded. “We need someone to represent us!”

“I thought we didn’t care about these showy things,” Matt argued, “they’re filled with nothing but a bunch of pretentious Harvard grads who only care about rubbing shoulders and money.”

“That’s true but—can’t we just play the part? For one night? Get some recognition, show these chummy lawyers what real justice is!”

“By eating fancy dinners and getting drunk?” Matt scoffed. “Come on, Fog. It’s not that important.”

“Well then, at least take advantage of the free food and make fun of the chummy lawyers. Come on, Matt. Please go. Hey! Take __, too! She would love that, don’t you think?”

Matt’s stomach twisted at the mention of you, the idea of bringing you to a fancy Bar dinner, as his date. It’s been hard enough on Matt to pretend he doesn’t love you, doesn’t care about you like that in the office—to also go to an intimate Bar dinner with you? And pretend again?

“Oh, Foggy,” Matt took his earbud out of his ear, took his glasses off and rubbed his face. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Foggy questioned, “It would be a great experience for her. Something fun. Get all dressed up, make connections.”

“Make connections with the same chummy lawyers we just talked about.”

“Not all of them are bad. HC&B will be there, I’m sure of it.”

“Wouldn’t it be weird, me bringing her as my…as my date?”

“Matt, why are you even thinking like that? It’s for two associates from every firm. It’ll be coworkers, it won’t look weird.”

Matt sighed, his gaze falling short. “If she wants to go, I’ll go.”

“I’ll ask her,” Foggy quickly said. “Or—actually, you should. Take her under your wing.”

“I’ll ask her at the end of the day,” Matt said lowly, regretfully.

Foggy clapped his hands, “I’m counting on you, buddy. It’ll be a good time. Make us look good.”

Matt forced a laugh as Foggy dropped the invitation on his desk. Matt ran his fingers over the texture of the paper and felt the cursive letters. He flipped the paper and sighed. It wasn’t getting any easier, working with you, talking with you. He was pretending all over again.

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

You and Matt stayed after hours again. Matt wasn’t really working, though—he was building the courage to ask you about the Bar dinner. As you wrote fervently in your notebook, studying the LSAT, Matt listened to you from his office. You whispered to yourself the questions, thought out the answers. Your heartbeat was steady. Calm. It reminded him of how you felt in his arms on your rooftop, safe. Before things went badly.

Ever since, Matt’s completely thrown himself into his work—and not his lawyer work, but his other work. He went out nearly every night and found crime to stop, at the expense of his body. So much, you were starting to notice his bruises and wounds. When you cleaned his wound that one morning, he told himself he shouldn’t let you help him. And it was worse when you actually touched him. Your touch that transported him back to your roof, when you’d let him touch you all over. He craved your touch again. When you helped him again later that day, the thought was so painful, he had to keep quiet. Keep to himself. Not let you know how your touch had an effect on him.

Matt entered the conference room, knocked on the door as he usually did. You paused your writing. By the sound of your voice, he could tell you were smiling at him. A smile he can only imagine.

“Hey,” you greeted him. “Treating this like a hobby.” You said in reference to his advice last week. Matt laughed.

“Good, good. I still want to help you study, but you seemed pretty focused.”

“Yeah," you said sheepishly, “I mean, if you want to join me now.”

Matt felt the envelope in his back pocket crinkle. It could wait. Matt reached out in front of him to feel for the desk. He sat in the chair next to you, his knee accidentally nudging yours—you were that close.

“Tell me what you’re working on,” Matt said.

Logic games, of course. You read through the problems and explained your answers to him. Matt felt like he was half there, and the other half he was thinking of all the hurtful things he’s done to you, as your savior. Talking to you like you didn’t exile him a while ago was hard. It was like talking with lead, talking with a bitter taste in his mouth. He pushed these thoughts away, explained his view on certain logic game problems. It was a good distraction, but not long enough. Your laugh in his ears, your scent in his nose, your presence next to him—all terrible and lovely reminders of what he could’ve had with you if he’d just been honest.

Matt left the conference room as you began to pack your things. He still hasn’t asked you about the Bar dinner.

When he exited his office, you nearly ran into him as you walked toward him. Your chests collided. Matt’s heart pounded as he fought the urge to pull you in close like that.

“Oh,” you jumped, “I’m sorry. I should’ve just waited by the front door.”

“No, no,” he said, “It’s okay.” He didn’t change the distance between you both, which was very close. Matt felt the envelope in his pocket. “Did you need something?”

“No, I just wanted to wait for you,” you said laughing softly.

“Oh,” Matt smiled, “okay. Well, I actually had a question for you.” He reached for the envelope in his back pocket and held it up upside down. You gently took the paper from his hands and read the invitation.

“I was wondering if you’d be interested in going,” Matt said, “with me. Foggy will be out of town and Karen’s on PTO. And he really, really wants our firm to be represented.”

“Wow,” you said in slight shock, “this is pretty legit. I’m allowed to go?”

Matt cocked his head and made a “why not” face. “If you want.”

“Definitely,” you said, holding the invitation in amazement. “I guess I’ll have to get a fancy dress.”

“I’ll have to rent a tux,” Matt chuckled. “Good. Then it’s a date. Well, you know—not a date, but—“

“I know, Matt,” you said softly. His gaze was down, his expression unreadable behind his dark red glasses. You felt the urge to take them off.

He was still standing close to you, but you felt an invisible buffer of tension between your chests. An undeniable tension you wanted to get out of immediately—not because you were scared, but because you were curious—which you thought was worse. You swallowed hard. A warmth spread in your stomach.

“We should get going, right?” Matt broke the silence. You backed away as he grabbed for his coat on the hanger.

“Right,” you agreed.

You and Matt walked outside, his hand on your elbow. When you reached the corner of the street, you turned to face him. You found he was already gazing in your direction, behind his dark red glasses.

“Well,” you began, “get home safe, Matt. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Be safe,” Matt added, holding onto your elbow as you made an attempt to walk away. You gladly fell back in his grasp. Matt’s hand let go of your elbow. His fingers gently traced the length of your forearm, fingertips stopping at your wrist. Your heart fluttered, feeling his fingertips dangerously close to your hand. Matt pulled away, and offered a smile.

“I will,” you broke the silence, still feeling his soft touch. Like his touch, your thoughts lingered on the moment for the rest of the night.

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #charlie cox #daredevil #blind faith #charlie cox x reader #charlie cox x you #i wasnt planning on updating but suddenly i had this in me lol #so here it is #ahhhh

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