#I was in the tech crew and my god | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nouvxllev · 4 months

Note

Hi, just wanna say I love your stuff! I was wondering if you’d do a Jenna x reader who is the daughter of Winona Ryder and Jenna meets her on the set of Beetlejuice 2. Winona acting as a wing woman for Jenna.

head over heels, your hand over mine

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

Summary: ^ request!

Words: 5.0k

Warnings: longer than i intended it to be

a/n: first of all... tysm!!! and second of all, thank you for the request!! means alot to me and i wrote it to the best of my abilities, hope you'll like it!!!

seq. || masterlist

Shit, shit, shit...

Jenna cursed under her breath as she practically hammered down the first-floor button as if that was going to make it go faster.

She glanced over to the indicator right above the door, the numbers slowly inching towards the ground floor. Her foot kept directing her side to side in the elevator, a stressed back-and-forth pace she caught herself on all while she gripped the Beetlejuice 2 script right in her hands, the paper almost being punctured with holes and such.

Jenna could almost blame herself for this.

Actually, she does. She damned herself so much she wouldn't be surprised if she got hit by a bus, really.

It wasn't any other day you'd get a role in Beetlejuice, 2, might she add, and even landing the role of the daughter of Winona Ryder who is possibly one of the most outstanding actresses out there and a 90s icon.

And now she's just slightly fucking it up with first impressions with how she's atleast 10 minutes late to their set because she spent her entire night in reading and rereading the script over and over until she perfected her lines to the point it's probably better if she'd just make Beetlejuice herself.

When the doors slid open, Jenna bolted out until she made her way to the entrance, her hand tightly clutching that damn script and her other gripping the strap of her bag.

Fumbling with her phone to call an Uber, she couldn't help but grimace at the thousands upon thousands of texts saying that she was late and her alarm clocks repeatedly being turned on to snooze just minutes before.

Of course, this day of all days just so happened to be the day that the universe decided that it had a grudge on Jenna for whatever reason because all Ubers were somehow booked and it would probably take atleast 30 minutes for another one.

So, like the hardworking actress she is determined to get a first impression even with punctuality falling behind her, she ran.

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It wasn't long, thank-fucking-god, till Jenna got to set. She slowed her pace a little when she saw the cameras and people surrounding a particular area.

She took a moment to compose herself as she approached them, smoothing down her pants and fixing her hair all while she tried to catch her breath before possibly collapsing on the ground. The crew members spared her a glance, how comforting, even if they all had concerned looks on their faces.

Jenna always worked with such talented actors and directors, and now here she was working with Winona Ryder meanwhile she was looking like she ran a marathon on the side while going to set.

"You're here!" Winona called out, lowering the script in her hands while she offered a warm smile. "We almost thought there were some complications in your schedule."

The young actress offered a sheepish smile, embarrassment flowing in her mind as she offered a weak hand gesture. "I'm so sorry, all Ubers were somehow booked and I woke up late." She admitted before introducing herself. "I'm Jenna. Ortega." She added.

Winona chuckled, "No worries. The tech team is sorting out some equipment issues, so it's a bit of free time right now." She explained, offering a handshake. "Winona Ryder. Your mother. Well, on-screen." She joked while Jenna laughed with it.

"God, sorry if I look worn out. I really admire your work, it's all so amazing." Jenna took her hand, reciprocating the gesture. She was almost going to add something until a figure approached Winona, looking like a split-perfect resemblance of her. And oh how she did the fastest double-take in her whole life.

"Oh, right!" Winona pulled, possibly the most prettiest and gorgeous, girl Jenna has laid eyes on in her 21 years of continuous breathing by the shoulders and pushed her in front of the young actress. Now life without you suddenly looks like something she just completely wasted her precious time on.

Just by looking at Winona and how excitement reflected in her eyes, Jenna could tell how much she beamed with pride for her daughter; it made her heart swell.

"Meet my daughter, Y/n."

There were things Jenna should do when she meets someone. She introduces herself in a calm manner and maybe engage in some friendly talk with them whether if it's the most awkward-est thing in her life or one of the moments she'd like to spend forever in.

What she shouldn't do is slowly have a mid-introduction nosebleed, completely throw out the knowledge that she has the ability to speak and say words while her mouth is half-agape and her eyes wide and never blinking. This rule seems to be more strict when she's convinced she has met the love of your life.

It's safe to say that Jenna checked all the boxes on the latter.

Jenna met your gaze, and oh how that was the stupidest decision she had ever made in her entire life. She felt a blush creep up her cheeks, breath caught in her throat, she tried to speak for a second but nothing came. It was like she was drowning but in the best way possible. And also falling head over heels in the worst way possible.

It's concerning how she almost wants to drop down and marry you on the spot; she's already rehearsing her vows inside her brain.

Jenna raised her hand, a shaky one at that, to offer a handshake. "I'm Jenny," she managed to squeak out, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at fumbling her own damn name. "I mean, Jenna! Sorry, not Jenny. I'm Jenna. Jenna Ortega." Oh, fuck, please just slit my throat already.

In every bad and awkward introduction, there's always someone from the other line slightly concerned but plays with it.

Your eyes crinkled, a bright sight to see that would put all sunrises to shame, and your lips parted like how the clouds part after a gloomy day, letting out a laugh that calmed Jenna's heart almost immediately. It was still running and skipping a fuck ton of beats per second, but your laugh seemed to warm it all.

"I'm Y/n, of course." You held Jenna's faltering eye contact as you reciprocated her gesture, "I'm really only here to accompany my mom," you explained. Please stay here forever. Better yet, be with me. Jenna almost said.

You shook her hand in the most softest way possible, her palm fitting right into yours. "Can't believe I met you, honestly." Jenna heard you mutter under your breath, a squeal following it.

Oh, if falling head over heels over you was a sin, she'd gladly be the epitome of something so mortal.

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And that was only a week ago. Just imagine how much internal panic she goes through whenever she sees you now.

Jenna repeatedly cursed under her breath, staring at the reflection of herself in the mirror as she gripped the cold parts of the sink, glaring at herself in complete thought.

Almost so serious as if her mind wasn't battling with something so completely stupid she'd rather drown in self-pity and misery.

Jenna Ortega, deemed as America's #1 IT girl who practically swooned all seven continents by now, almost had a near anaphylactic shock when her hand grazed over yours and how you gave her possibly the most sweetest and soul-crushing smile with that stupidest crinkle in your eye to ever exist on this damned earth, holy fuck.

Why should she be so head over heels for you?

She lowered her head in defeat, a heavy sigh escaping her as the same image of your smile flickered in her mind, and now a stupid grin from your stupid image graced her lips.

It was only a week in being on the Beetlejuice set, and she damn near lost her mind.

You were always there, well of course you were there since you were Winona Ryder's daughter, but she didn't expect to be so obsessed with you to the point she needs to go to the bathroom to silently scream whenever she hears or sees your intoxicating smile.

It's sweet. Almost endearing to her.

As if she even has the right to even think about you in that way.

Jenna stepped outside, patting her hands dry by the hem of her shirt. her name already being called out by the directors, their voices only getting louder and louder until it dwindled down to nothing and she could only assume that Winona stopped them, it was still her break after all. She was almost like a real mother to her, a comforting one at that.

She started to take a pattern in her steps before she saw you sitting on the railings of the trailer. More importantly, Jenna's trailer.

Okay, she shouldn't have seen this as a sign from the universe that you liked her back, but she did and that was all the hope that the fate or whatever deity could do because she was too desperate and too drunk on the lack of attention and attraction you were giving her.

But how could she not do that when you look so perfect just being... you? Being everything she wanted? Needed? Just being so damn perfect almost feels like Jenna could die.

"You like my daughter, don't you."

Jenna looked behind her, the sudden voice that crept being Winona, the mother of the daughter she had been smitten for, a noticeable faint smile on her lips. It was more of a statement than a question. A fact, really.

Jenna could almost deny it if it wasn't so accurate. But what was she supposed to say? "Yes, I do like your daughter, in fact, I love her so much I would absolutely give up my very career to buy her the most expensive wedding ring to ever be created from the hands of a human, or even a Greek God perhaps, to show that she owns my entire heart, body, and soul."

Panic was evident, Winona could clearly tell by the way Jenna looked like was scramming to think up of a half-assed excuse.

"Yes—I mean, not like like. I love her, really. She's talented, hardworking, and passionate in the things she talks about. But that's really it; I love Y/n, in a friendly way." Jenna stammered. Even if she was spouting complete lies and nonsense about how she doesn't have a massive crush on you, her gaze was stuck on, of course, you yourself.

Winona arched an eyebrow, "Jenna, I know when someone is horribly in love with my daughter and who’s not."

"The both of you were always somehow joined together, even if none of you were talking. You’re always finding a reason to bring her up in a conversation even if no one was even talking about her. Also, everyone takes notice of how your gaze was always focused on Y/n. Even on scene, you couldn’t take your eyes off of her for a second."

Yeah, that seems about right.

Jenna sighed, her line of sight never laying off of you. It's amazing how you still haven't noticed she and your mother was staring at you like a bunch of stalkers.

"Y/n deserves someone like her, someone in her league," she turned around, now walking in the opposite direction to her original one. She almost sounded like a teenage boy who realized they couldn't get with the popular girl. "She looks like someone even from the heavens above couldn’t fathom they created her from their own mind and hands."

Winona's expression softened as she caught up to Jenna, now walking beside her. "If you, The Jenna Ortega, fail to get her attention and love then it's all over for us." She never heard someone talk so romantic about her daughter, it's truly unfair how the ones who love the most always fall short.

Jenna's steps slowed, her body slumping against the fall as her gaze was fixed on the ground. God, why was she acting like this over you?

The young actress nodded, her hands going up to her face and sliding them down as she spoke, "She's like this incredible and unattainable dream you want to continue after you wake up, Winona." She mumbled through her hands, "Y/n's gorgeous, gentle, charming, and just… perfect." She let go of her face, her hands now on her sides. "It's intimidating just by looking at her, knowing she's the essence of beauty and perfection. Like, how do you compete with that? Overall be someone who she wants to stick by her side?"

The actress observed the young one, Jenna's head down and fidgeting with her rings. Winona could almost say that this was the most vulnerable sight she ever saw from her. "You don't have to match her perfection, let alone measure yourself up to that; you just need to be the missing piece she didn't know she needed. "

Jenna took a deep breath, her head slowly rising, "I just don't want to mess it up. She deserves someone as awesome as her, and if she ever likes me back, I'm afraid of waking up and realizing I'm not enough for her to be someone she loves."

Winona tilted her head, crossing her arms, "Tell you what, I don't know much about my daughter now. She's not closed off, but she isn't open either." She could see how Jenna flicked her head upwards, listening attentively. "But I do know that she's been watching all of your movies and shows up to this point."

Jenna's eyes widened in surprise. She doesn't wanna take any risks, but she doesn't wanna lose any chances either. "She... she has?"

Winona nodded, a soft and warm smile playing on her lips, just like the one you always have if not more comforting.

"I could never hear the end of it. She says you have this genuine charm whenever you speak, you're calm but you're also being true to yourself. Y/n admires you so much, I almost get sick of it," she laughed that pulled a chuckle from Jenna. "You're perfect in her eyes, but that's not what she likes about you. She likes you because you're authentic, yourself." She reached out for Jenna's shoulders, giving it a reassuring squeeze, "I'll be your wingman. I'm sure you're the perfect girl for my daughter."

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And that was maybe two to three months ago.

Now Jenna's thinking that you might be the most oblivious person to ever roam this entire globe. She's been dropping hints everywhere you go and you still wouldn't catch up that she has feelings for you!

Ever since Jenna got into Winona's wing, she knew everything that makes you happy. Your music taste, what type of flowers you like, what type of outings you like, clothes, scents, foods, colors, even legos, just basically everything under the sun she gave to you within a heartbeat.

Jenna gives you flowers everyday, hell even bouquets if she's feeling fancy. Reads and writes you letters, and ever since Winona gave her your number, she's been sending you voicemails of your favorite songs every morning as some goodmorning text. She's been nothing but romantic to you! Was she just missing something?

The only thing that really progressed was something of strangers to friends. The two of you were as close as ever to the point if one of you were needed, somebody probably would need to surgically remove both of you.

But that was it! No nothing, just friends. It was selfish for Jenna to want something more when she has the love of her life close to her as a friend, sure, but she needed just a little bit more before she mentally goes insane.

"I mean, come on!" Jenna complained to Winona, sitting across from the other chair just right beside her trailer, script in her hands but she was paying more attention to Jenna. "Flowers, letters, voicemails… I'm practically screaming 'I like you' at this point." She slumped over the table, "or maybe she's just really ignoring them."

"I think you're thinking too deeply, Jenna," Winona stated, looking over to somewhere far, "maybe you should confess. She's right there."

Jenna was about to stand up and say it all out and die in a hole if she gets rejected until she realized you were wearing something so... fucking gorgeous? stunning? breathtaking? ethereal? She needed a stronger word than all words combined.

It wasn't your everyday casual wear, in fact, it was something you'd wear to go on a date. A date that meant something, a date that you'd go with another person and to confess their love.

Oh, don't fucking tell her she was too slow to confess and some random dude confessed earlier.

"I don't..." Jenna stammered, she could sense that agonizing feeling of her heart sinking, a stinging pain but it was mixed with immense pressure, like she was almost drowning. "I don't really think it's the right time."

Winona let out a sympathetic sigh, "she did tell me that she was going somewhere important." She waved in your direction, grabbing your attention. "Y/n!"

Jenna didn't know it was possible to drown without having any bodies of water near you, now she was fully experiencing it by how her heart sank even further as she heard Winona's words.

She shouldn't be surprised, after all, somebody actually had the guts and mindset to actually confess to you personally without having to hide behind a facade and without having to drop a fuck ton of hints instead of saying it out loud.

It stung. Thinking that someone out there was that one for you. And how that someone was never Jenna. But it was sweet. She winced.

Jenna couldn't shake the pang and sting of disappointment as she watched to walk over to Winona, a smile on your lips like you've met the most wonderful person to ever be in your life. She couldn't read if it was real, and she hoped to God it was fake.

"What's with the get-up?" Winona asked, standing up while giving Jenna the look.

"Going on a date with this guy, he asked me." You smiled, yet again, but it was even brighter.

Yeah, she figured. When did she even assume that you liked women anyway?

"Can I borrow your car, mom, please?" You asked of her, your puppy eyes going in action while you mentally crossed your fingers.

Jenna wasn't the one to brag, but she could drive a car! Not that idiot guy who couldn't even take whatever vehicle to fetch her as a nice gesture. Hell, it was a date for godsakes!

Winona sighed, glancing between Jenna and you. "Sure, you can borrow the car," she stated before digging into her pockets and fetching her car keys, plotting it down to your hands, "but make sure to bring it back in one piece."

Jenna bit her lip, suppressing the urge to completely pull herself out of her chair and scream 'I love you so goddamn much, Y/n! Can't you see I'm the one for you and not some guy who couldn't even go the mile to drive you to the damn date!?' But no. Instead, she stayed in her seat, nodded as a goodbye, and forced yet another smile.

"Thanks for the flowers by the way, Jenna! I should really pay you back sometime." You chuckled, before hugging her head as your way of goodbye. "I'll tell you all about it when I get home."

"Don't worry about the flowers. No need to pay me back," Jenna replied, doing her damn best to keep her tone light and her knuckles not so light. As you hugged her, Jenna couldn't help but savor the moment, imagining that it wasn't a goodbye to go off on some date with some random dude but rather a lovely gesture. "I'll be waiting to hear all about it."

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That was atleast three to five hours ago.

Jenna never knew how a 2$ caesar salad bought from a suspicious vendor on the sidewalks could be so depressing but still mock her on how she just lost the love of her life to someone who actually had the guts to confess until she actually experienced it.

It was a slow day on set. Probably because it was already so late at night. There were still some scenes being recorded, but most of it was Winona's.

So along those hours when Jenna wasn't with you or she couldn't text you through the phone, all she could really do was stare from afar and hope that you'd magically have some miraculous change of mind mid-date and maybe you'll soon believe and realize Jenna was the one for you after all.

Of course, life wasn't like a damn movie and that damn date was still going to happen no matter what she does.

Winona sat beside Jenna, offering a sympathetic look at how Jenna was poking around her lettuce. "You know that's her quote-on-quote I don't really give two shits outfit but I still need to look good for a requirement that is people's feelings."

Jenna let go of her fork, damn even it looked sad. "But she looks beautiful."

Winona could almost roll her eyes if not for the young actress wallowing in her own thoughts. "It's because you're head over heels for her, Jenna. She could wear some obnoxious color-clashing clothes and she'd still look like a goddess for you."

Jenna sighed, picking up her fork again and halfheartedly stabbing a folded lettuce leaf. "I mean, don't you?" she asked, glancing at Winona. "You're her mother."

Winona shrugged, "Her clothes, her choice, but I still absolutely would not." She laughed, and her smile brightened when Jenna allowed a smile to crack through her lips.

Jenna could almost face-plant herself into the salad bowl if not for a notification pinging in Winona's phone. A notification that Winona only applied for you.

"...Or you could tell her that she's much better off with you rather than some guy that stood her up." Winona showed the phone to Jenna, your message illuminating on the screen.

y/n

mom can u pick me up? karaoke room 217 stood up on me lol come quick, pls. thx

Jenna would've been lying if she said she wasn't jumping, screaming, throwing up in literal joy.

Well, of course, she was mad that you of all people were stood up, but she was semi-glad that you were.

Jenna's urgency was visible as she scrambled to get out of her seat, grabbing her bag with such hast and making a sudden beeline for the exit.

"Tell her that you can't go! I wanna surprise her," She yelled to Winona, her excitement in her voice echoing through the room. It's almost weird and insane how happy she was about how you were stood up.

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You waited for 2 hours.

It wasn't disappointing. You already knew it was just some sort of dare or a prank that one of his friends pulled, but you showed up anyway. Not like because you wanted to play with his feelings; you couldn't do that if you didn't have any.

In fact, you had feelings for Jenna.

Ever since she showed up on your screen, she was the only actress you could ever think about. She was charming, alluring, the only person who could make the daylight so dark if her smile was out of place.

You didn't know her, personally then, but you loved her. You were willing to start wars with the world, may it be against you or may all odds and fate oppose you, you’d do everything for her even if it kills you to be someone who would take all her hidden suffering and plead for tears with your palms locked and thrown away.

And now that you were working with her on set, you couldn't help but be someone you're not. All thanks to you and your mother on reluctantly giving up on the idea of not bringing you to set. You wanted to confess, you really did. It was just a silly little crush like you'd always have but this one with Jenna seemed real and your life would've ended if your feelings were rejected.

Though, even after all that, Jenna was the one you wanted to be with. The one you hoped would walk through that damn door and hug you until your worries and thoughts all disappeared, only met with her voice and her comforting arms.

That would've been a fleeting memory, wishful thinking. That is until the very girl that made you go insane rushed into the room.

What the fuck.

She was exhausted, you could tell by her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath, you couldn't help but smile at the sight of her; looking like she had gone the extra mile and maybe even drove a car on the way instead of running, just to be there with you. You could almost start laughing and be that snarky person you've always been to her if not for everything else fading into the background until Jenna was the only one left.

Without hesitation, she pulled you into a tight embrace, wrapping her arms around your body as she tightened the hug as if you'd die if she ever let go of your body. The warmth of her touch, the comfort in her soul, and her very being brought something so grand as you hugged her back. You feared that letting go would mean losing her forever, and she thought the same way.

"I love you." She murmured on your shoulders, closing her eyes. You notice how her voice cracked with vulnerability and almost sorrow as you tightened your hold on her.

"I love you," she whispered yet again, as if you didn't hear her the firs time. "I love you, I love you, I just love you." She dug her head under your neck, her breath warm on your skin as you waited for her to finish.

You could feel Jenna's heartbeat against your chest, fast and beating while it synced with your own. "I love you, Y/n. You don’t know how many lifetimes I would kill myself for you to look into my soul, everything beneath, and even the darkest parts of my heart so then you’ll see how I perceive you to be everything I look for. I can't understand how you don't understand how much you mean to me. How much your laughter was something I didn't know would be the cure to whatever terminal illness I had in life, your actions being my motivation, your soul being my guiding light, and your smile being something so bright that not even the sun could beat its glory."

Jenna slowly pulled away from you, her eyes searching yours for a reaction. The room was always so silent, but it never felt like it was the funeral of sound itself.

"I'm sorry—That—That wasn't... I didn't—" she stammered, her body already getting up and pulling away from you.

Gently, you reached out and cupped her face with your hands, your thumbs brushing away the newly formed tears that had welled up in her eyes and dripped from her cheeks. You could feel the warmth of her skin beneath your touch, her freckles, and everything that made Jenna her was right beneath your palm. You want nothing but to cherish it.

You couldn't think of a reply. You could, but it would never beat the confession Jenna had for you. It was more than a mere confession, but something out of a book that would put every writer to shame.

"Is this okay?" Your eyes searched for Jenna's consent in hers as you leaned in ever so slightly, her breath lingering on your skin until Jenna's lips met yours in a hesitant, gentle kiss. The touch of her soft lips against yours sent a shiver down your spine, her hands coming up to cradle your face as she melted into you while your own hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened.

Life felt like something you wasted without her lips touching yours. How you felt everything and how you were everything under her soft touch, her presence. It was if every moment before her had been leading to this one. Every heartbeat, every breath, every time you've experienced something happy, sad, or even something conflicted was building up to the moment your lips finally met hers. You felt whole, alive, reassured, and comforted.

Her touch felt like a warm embrace from something so indestructible, a star so far away that only you could see it shine from afar but yet you could feel every inch of its presence.

Then it stopped. The both of you pulled back.

But your heart never did.

"You know I asked for your mom to be my wingman."

"Please don't destroy this moment we have by mentioning my mom, Jenna. I'm serious."

Jenna chuckled, her eyes twinkling, "give her some credit. I never would've confessed to you without her."

You couldn't help but smile, realizing she was still the Jenna you fell in love with. "I guess, but I don't really want to talk about my mom after I just got stood up and then kissed the girl I love."

Jenna's chuckle turned into a soft giggle, her hand finding it's way to your palm as she intertwined her fingers with yours. "Also, for the record, that guy was an idiot."

You nodded after shared laughter. With everything that's going around between the two of you, you almost miss how Winona arrived just in time. Standing by the door with a smile on her face.

But even with Jenna's hand over yours, she'd still fall head over heels for you.

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just some fuckass aftermath dialogues:

W: "You finally confessed." J: "Did she tell you?" W: "Well for one she's been awfully cheery and gave me a questioning I love you mom and offered me to go shopping with her."

#jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x femreader #jenna ortega x female reader #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega

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usedpidemo · 8 months

Text

Voguish (Itzy Ryujin)

(Thank you for the commission! I hope its to your liking.)

—————

If you had any other choice, you’d rather be stuck at where you were previously: earning a modest income, just enough to get by from job to job, performing straightforward work, and most importantly, friendly clientele to attend to. It wasn’t surprising; you knew this industry was built on the backs of some of the most snobbish, arrogant people you’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting, but—

“You’re late. Again.”

Shin Ryujin was probably among the absolute worst.

If you’re going to make an honest assessment, Ryujin isn’t that bad. Serving as her head stylist for the better part of a year, she’s by far the client you’ve spent the most time with. She doesn’t talk a big deal about the money she’s making or prattle into a conversation intricately designed to inflate her ego to the moon, unlike some of the other A-listers you’ve had the ‘privilege’ of working under.

However, her attitude is definitely up there.

It’s not even a little over a minute. In fact, you’ve been standing at her entrance door two minutes before the clock hits ten. Doesn’t matter if you’re in the right; her style, her rules. She doesn’t care that you're sweating buckets rushing her newly minted outfit from across the street up to the 27th floor. Any moment where she doesn’t look like a million dollars is a moment wasted.

“My apologies, Ryu—”

Ryujin’s glare puts the fear of God into your soul. “What did I say about using my name?”

You pause. Gulp your throat. “My sincerest apologies, Miss Shin.”

“Hmph.” Grimacing with disgust, she hastily snatches the dress from your possession, proceeds to slam the door on you, tone bordering on shouting, “Come inside. You’re late.”

Entering the door shortly after, you’re welcomed by a film crew in the process of recording her as she struts around the living room suite holding your dress in her hands. If there’s anything you’ve learned from attending to her, she’s as effortless of an actress as she is as a model. The moment her eyes face the camera, she instantly transforms into the picture perfect icon that has all of social media buzzing.

Moving out of the way has become muscle memory at this point. When she’s in front of the cameras, you’re merely an onlooker.

“So this is my outfit for tonight,” she says enthusiastically into the camera, proudly flaunting the outfit—a convincing facade to the untrained eye. For the press, she’s this likable, larger than life figure living her best life, attending all these invitation-only parties and wearing the most stylish dresses.

“It was a risque design, and I wanted to try something bold for once. It was love at first sight when I saw it,” she comments, and you know very well this wasn’t her first choice. They won’t know that this was the 12th option, handpicked just last night after weeks of trial and error, only to be thrown away right after. At her request, you had it ordered on incredibly short notice, and the plan almost fell through. It was hard to deny Ryujin’s wants, no matter how impractical or unfeasible they were.

In a way, this was to be expected. Ryujin emanates this young, it girl energy. Like any aspiring icon, she usually wants to stand out from a usually safe crowd. Not that it hasn’t stopped you from interfering a handful of times, much to her annoyance. After all, you’d assume she was going to a casual party or some red carpet event, not a prestigious gala with some of the biggest people in the world in attendance. You name it: politicians, CEOs of tech giants, industry titans who make the cover of Forbes and Time every other month. There are high standards that must be kept, and she’s doing anything but uphold those standards.

The camera pans away from her, and she immediately tosses the clothing aside with zero regard whatsoever. You manage to save it before it becomes near valueless. No matter how bothersome she acts, you can’t bring yourself to call her out on her antics; not just because there are several careers at stake, including yours, but you know what she’s capable of doing when her patience exceeds breaking point. It’s a firsthand experience to catch Ryujin in a state that isn’t picture perfect.

“Where are you?” Ryujin shouts from the other room, irate. “Slow as ever, my goodness.”

When you approach her, she’s on her phone, seated in front of the mirror with her legs crossed, having commanded the camera crew to vacate the room, leaving you alone with her. It’s only when you are together that she’s her true self, and it’s not far from what you usually experience even with other people around. They understand it’s in their best interest not to interfere.

Turning her eyes, she catches you idling with her sharp stare. “Well? Are you just gonna stand there and look at me all day? You already do that on the regular.”

Her behavior’s something neither cameras nor testimonies will ever publicly reveal: that Ryujin’s practically a spoiled brat behind closed doors. Any attempts to expose her have been silenced by huge settlements, NDAs, and every legal bind in the book. And when those don’t work out, there’s the strangely coincidental disappearance of potential witnesses that read like every tin-foil hat post written by some gullible conspiracy theorist on the internet.

In retrospect, perhaps there’s some merit to the rumor that her father is supposedly the head of some mafia organization, but you digress. She has never brought her personal history up in interviews, other than she’s been adopted by the founder of a relatively unknown investment firm. An elaborate lie.

She’s engrossed on her phone, unable to keep herself still while you struggle to apply makeup on her face. Time’s of the essence, she usually says, but she’s purposeful with how much time is wasted, with the primary objective of finding an excuse to lay on you. It was never going to be fair from the start. All the moments where you were late, in her eyes, were intentionally done to put you in the wrong.

To be fair, the numerous stylists who’ve taken care of her warned you in advance. You couldn’t deny the opportunity for a huge paycheck.

“Miss Shin, please stay still,” you say, carefully stringing your words together, delivered in the least offensive tone possible.

To your surprise, she complies. It’s a miracle. She never obliges with your requests, let alone direct commands.

Applying the rest of her makeup takes only minutes. Usually, you’d be going back and forth, and you’d be in front of the mirror for hours. See how easier everyone’s job is when all parties cooperate and collaborate effectively? You’re doing your part like it’s second nature; you only wish Ryujin was this accommodating more often, and not whether her brain flips a coin to determine her attitude for the day.

“You look amazing, Miss Shin,” you comment, staring at the mirror, her face radiating with the glow of a million bucks.

Taking her attention off the phone, even if it’s only for a second, proves to be a chore, as proven by her particularly grumpy expression. She scans herself, peers through every little detail in the mirror—showing more interest in herself during this brief moment than her dozens of photoshoots over the last month—and gives the smallest of nods. You even see the tiniest of grins escaping her lips, too.

Her steely attitude unwavering, she commands you, sternly, “Bring me the dress. Now.”

A clap of hands and the door opens like magic. Your co-stylist briskly walks toward you, outfit in hand, promptly handing it over before immediately leaving the room. No words are necessary; she makes it clear who’s allowed to touch her, let alone dress her, and it’s only you. Handling Ryujin was as meticulous and methodical as preserving a historical treasure.

She finally gets off her chair, hands prepared to loosen her robe before something catches her attention. “Door.”

It’s common sense. You hurry over to the opened door, slam it shut. Then the magic happens.

Ryujin nonchalantly slips her bathrobe off her shoulders, letting it freely fall to the floor. She’s draped in nothing but the thinnest of underwear, her asscheeks openly poking through the fabric. It’s amazing how she’s allowing you to see her like this, her barest, when most of her shoots and red carpet dresses have been nothing but conservative. Sometimes seductive, but mostly safe. There’s nothing left for your imagination. On the other hand, you’re so used to this vivid sight, it’s almost part of your daily routine. You shouldn’t be fazed, but her perfect figure has you staring, shamelessly, like it’s your very first time seeing nudity.

At times, it leaves you vulnerable. Like now.

“You were doing quite well too,” she comments, snarkily, gazing at your blank expression through the reflection, snapping you from your daze.

Gulping your throat, you find yourself embarrassed, ears flushed red. Even while you go through the methodical process of measuring and dressing her, the shame lingers. You find yourself unable to glance at the mirror. The very few flashes and glints that meet you when you turn you face your reflection, you find her suppressing a tiny giggle.

As you put on the finishing touches on her outfit, she brings the point home, “We’re already late by an hour.”

A quick look at your watch tells you it’s almost eleven. Ten minutes before the next hour. At first glance, it’s still early, but it can be deceiving. Parisian traffic is notoriously unforgiving, event or no event, showing no partiality. Getting from one place to another is a whole day’s work.

Then you remember the fans and paparazzi congregated at the hotel’s entrance. This crowd that you had to brute force through just to get her dress on time. The hotel security can barely hold them back, and you can hear several sirens screaming miles away, most likely police presence. Many persons of interest will be gathered in one setting, after all.

“How do you feel, Miss Shin?” you ask, taking a step back to let her soak in her meticulously curated appearance.

She blinks rapidly. Then she takes a deep breath.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

—————

Everywhere you look lies nothing but chaos. Chaos and cameras.

Barricade is filled with an indistinguishable mix of both paparazzi and media from all over the world. Lights, whether from above or from cameras, flash in every direction that it’s almost blinding. Deafening shouts pierce through your ears that whispering is impossible. You’ve been to as many red carpet events as these journalists and photographers, but you’ve never attended an event of this magnitude until now.

Left and right, there’s a random celebrity being interviewed by a news junket. The women you spot are dressed to the nines, adorned in colorful and graceful garb, while the men are decked as if they're attending Sunday service. You can see it now: another round of fashion bloggers berating and cursing the men for their simplicity and lack of creativity, but that’s to be expected.

Your phone vibrates from within your shirt pocket. It’s Ryujin, having disappeared somewhere in the crowd.

> Where u at? 😤

You immediately reply back. Your conversations have been practice for your future relationship:

> Can’t find you in this crowd

> Taylor Swift is just across me XD

> Scarlett Johannson too

> And I think I saw Zendaya and Yuna talking with each other, can’t confirm though, they’re far away

To which she answers:

> Stop playing around.

> Get over here NOW

> Do you style any of them?

> You don’t.

> Come here. NOW.

It’s a simple but strong warning. Aside from the fact that you’re there to attend to Ryujin’s needs and not larp as a celebrity, there's a change in her attitude during these events. She becomes strangely more attached. It’s become a byword for you to mention other women around her, yet she interacts with them in a friendly light for the cameras to see.

Ryujin’s preoccupied with what’s presumably the umpteenth interview of many when you finally reunite with her. She takes another moment to pose for the next wave of cameras, picture perfect as always, then after, she finally turns her gaze, meeting yours. It has been ten minutes since her last text, and you have many reasons to say why you’ve vanished.

None of which truly matters.

“There you are.” She says, glaring angrily at you, tone laced with contempt, sounding like you were gone for days.

“I can explain, Miss Shin,” you try to say, but it has no effect as she approaches you, careful as ever to keep a picturesque facade in front of the media. You can see her holding herself back from popping a vein. “Apparently President Biden and his wife are in attendance and we were told to make way for his entire security team—”

The way Ryujin pulls you by the ear while you both retreat from the chaotic crowd is comical. In a sea of cameras and eyewitnesses, some tabloid’s bound to catch you, take the unfolding scene out of context, and write a rushed article that spreads like wildfire, but no, it doesn’t draw an ounce of attention. She's a small fry in a pond of bigger fish, after all. Over your corner, you see a dozen Secret Service slowly guide the president along the carpet, parting everyone around old Joe. In a way, watching him brings you to a strange realization: that you can empathize with the poor geezer. You’re both in the same predicament, being strung along to places you have no zero interest in.

It’s an effective distraction. An air of tense, awkward silence falls upon you both as you stare at each other, your personal conflict hidden away from the public eye. You open your mouth, about to say a word, and—

Whack!

Ryujin hits you with the hardest of palms, all her pent-up frustration released with a single, powerful smack of your cheek. The force echoes throughout the enclosed space like thunder. Your lips draw a little blood. A quick rub of your face reinforces the consequence for your actions. Rough. Still, to say she looks unhappy after enforcing her will upon you is an understatement.

And just when you try to open your mouth (without the intention to complain; you’ve given up at this point), she follows it up with a second slap, with about half the impact of the first. This time, the other cheek. Her gaze is scathing, lethal, hypnotic—as if challenging you to try her already short patience. Say something, motherfucker, is subtly etched on her expressive lips without the need to verbalize them.

Another tense moment of silence. She makes sure your eyes never leave her contact. When it finally breaks, her judgment echoes in your head like the toll of a death bell—a lingering reminder that you’ve truly fucked up.

“You’ll be seeing me after tonight,” she says, each word delivered like an arrow straight to your heart. Before facing the world again, she adds another devastating blow, “My hotel room. Midnight. Sharp.”

—————

For the most part, in the eyes of the public, you seem to have done a fantastic job styling Ryujin for tonight’s gala. Within hours of the event, numerous articles published of the event list her among the best dressed stars, praising the bold nature of her outfit, as she intended in that vlog-style video from earlier. It’s all smiles as you watch her from afar, casually mingling with every celebrity in attendance. In case she needs to remain fresh, have new makeup applied, or change into a new dress for afterparty purposes—sometimes all of the above—you’re closely on standby. Ultimately, she doesn’t; not a single time she has called or texted for assistance. In a way, it’s alarming.

Her reminder sticks firmly on the back of your mind. Every word she says, she means it—no matter how small or big they are. It lingers even as her personal driver and bodyguard messages you with the instruction to return to the car, where she’s mysteriously absent, having been commanded by Ryujin herself to send you and the rest of her personnel home. It’s uncharacteristically strange; either she’s changed her mind and is having a good time at the event, or she’s probably drunk out of her mind, and the latter is typically the norm.

When you retreat to your room, you nervously watch as the clock slowly ticks towards the inevitable. It’s like witnessing your death. You know you can’t stop it, and you can’t look away, either. With the understanding that you’ll likely see the sun rise when it’s all said and done, you don’t even bother to slip into your sleepwear.

The clock turns midnight. Seconds later, you receive a text on your phone. The message. It immediately disproves any theory or hope of meeting her good graces:

> Meet me in my room. Don’t even think about hiding or running, cause I will know

Of course you comply; you really have no other choice.

Five minutes later, you’re at her door again, with nothing but your suit, ready to face her judgment. It swings open of its own accord. Without any formalities, you step inside the familiar living room, now tidied up and cloaked in near darkness—a stark contrast to the mess it looked earlier in the day. Not a sign of her presence can be seen or felt. If you’ve been feeling uneasy before, now you’re straight up anxious, and the terror leaves you pale.

The door slams shut. Now you’re completely in the dark, with nothing to latch or cling to but your own resolve, which is slowly fading too. You want to speak her name, but you know you’ll be trying fate again, and fate has dealt you a cruel hand already. You didn’t want to fall even further.

Your slow breaths are the only sign of life.

And the faint voice in your ear.

Wait—

Before you know it, you feel your throat tense up and your body tremble frantically. Faint shadows coil around your waist and neck, and in that moment, your fate has been sealed.

“At least you’re not late this time.” Ryujin whispers into your ear. Then your eyes snap wide open.

“Agh!”

A powerful surge of pain overwhelms your entire body, renders you weak in the knees. You fall to the ground, barely keeping yourself from completely melting onto the carpet with your hands. Still, the pangs remain too much. You can barely hold up on all fours, let alone move your arms and legs.

It’s not enough. A soft hand hovers across your arched back, brushes through your hair, before it’s immediately followed by a direct blow to your nape. Your shout of agony reverberates throughout the dark room while you’re forced further down on your knees. Nearly forced into a prostrate position, you’re barely holding on. Another hit of this force could knock you unconscious, maybe worse.

“You’re going to learn your lesson today,” says Ryujin, strutting from behind you, cloaked in what appears to be a white gown. She’s holding something that you can’t identify, but you can tell she’s not in the mood to play games. Sparks of electricity flash and fade close to her hand. It was a taser all along. You probably would have guessed that from the intense shocking pain you’re currently feeling.

“Bedroom, slowpoke,” she sternly commands you as she saunters toward the room first, leaving you alone to pick yourself up. You’re still reeling from the two shocks of electricity applied to your waist and neck; it stings. Your body struggles, aches, cries out in despair, but you ultimately muster up enough power to follow her minutes later.

What greets you in the bedroom is a dimly lit bed, with Ryujin as its centerpiece, and both ends of her figure bathed in a faint wave of orange lamp light. She’s draped in nothing but the same hotel-issued bathrobe from earlier, her legs crossed, gazing at you from behind designer shades, smirking with malicious intent. It’s regal, seductive, inviting, intimidating. You honestly could stare at this sight all day long.

Before you entertain the thought, she cuts it off. “Strip.”

Her gaze lingers as you quickly bare yourself in front of her. She grins, giggles, adjusts her glasses with each piece of clothing removed. It flashes at her widest when you’ve divested your shirt and your pants, revealing your chest and your evident bulge, unknowingly growing hard behind the elastic fabric. It seems to spark a new idea within her, even though she’s the type of woman who follows through with her plans after they’ve been organized and premeditated.

She hops off the bed, slowly saunters toward you with trained, modellike fashion, using you as a makeshift catwalk. Turning the corner, she retreats behind your back, gripping a hand on your neck, craning the other down your bare chest. Her tongue tickles the back of your ear, which morphs into the smallest of smooches while she drags you to the bed like a hostage. As she hauls you over the mattress, she continues to feel your skin and body, your ears titillated by the gentle moans and whimpers from her sultry lips.

Your bump knees with the bed before she sends you flying over the edge. Temptation comes knocking at the door of your suppressed lips; you’re itching to cry out in pain, pleading for a bit more consideration. You know it’s a futile effort. When it comes to sex, Ryujin was anything but gentle.

“Don’t look. Stay still.”

Following her command is second nature to you; even when your positions were interchanged, it was merely an illusion—you were never in control. Ryujin plants a palm around your throat, forcing your stare against the bedrest. The clanging sound of something resembling a belt or a buckle keeps you curious. Tense, breaths keep you calm. Deep down, you know what’s about to happen; there’s no stopping it, you can only brace for impact.

In the gap between the point of no return, she tells you her mindstate, how her frustration and apparent jealousy never receded. “I hated every minute I spent there. You have no idea how difficult it was to keep a face in front of everyone, especially after seeing Yuna. Fucking. Yuna.”

Your reaction comes out, not through coherent words, but through a labored groan. You feel her finger circle rings around your ass, sticky and wet. Of course she was there, social media couldn’t stop buzzing about her appearance—and she rarely shows up to these galas. Now it’s all making sense. After all, you were Yuna’s stylist before Ryujin snatched you away.

Ryujin continues to apply lube around your sensitive hole, occasionally fingering you. Holding in the groans from the discomfort proves to be impossible, but she prefers to hear you whine, especially when her name is spoken. It’s the perfect reprieve from the evening’s frustrations, keeping her from raising her voice to the ceiling. “She pisses me off so fucking much. First stealing my thunder at every fashion week, now this? I thought she hated art galas?”

It’s evident that she doesn’t like Yuna in any shape whatsoever. If not for the cameras and all the famous people in the building, she’d already be trading blows with her. If there was any one person she wanted dead, it would have to be Shin Yuna. Of course, knowing this, you never included your time with her on your job application, let alone mention the fact you briefly spoke at the event behind her back. She was in an already spiraling mood, and you didn’t need to make it even worse.

“I was thinking of using dildos for tonight, maybe just my fingers even, but I don’t think it’ll be enough. I really hope you understand.” That last sentence—she sounds apologetic, remorseful, but the warning is ultimately shallow; she’ll rough you up, wreck you, ruin you, and enjoy every moment of it. You’re merely a blank canvas to her twisted fantasies.

“Oh, oh–fuck!” She cries out, joining your deep scream in harmony as she plunges the dildo into your warm, wet hole. This isn’t your first experience on the receiving end of Ryujin’s strap, yet every plunge feels as destructive and spine breaking as the first. No pleasantries or formalities, just apply the lube then hit. The idea of teasing you goes against her very blunt, assertive nature.

“Shit—oh fucking shit, you’re so goddamn tight,” she says, snaking a hand around your waist as her plastic dick slowly penetrates your hole, little by little. She has you grasping at pillows, staring at the ceiling then down to the sheets, until you find the twisted image of her hips slowly pounding against your ass, letting the pleasure of pegging overwhelm her. It should be excruciatingly painful, an agonizing reminder to never get on her wrong side, but no, there’s something hot about getting dicked by a tough woman like her that arouses you.

Eventually, she comes to her senses, finds her footing, and remembers that she’s meant to punish you, not reward you. She knows how good you make her feel, even if your cock is meant to be inside hers, not the other way around. You can’t help speaking your mind, and it boosts Ryujin’s ego to the moon. “Please. Fucking use me, Miss Shin. Fucking ruin my hole like how I ruin yours, miss.”

Even upside down, you can see how visibly delighted she is to hear those words every single time. Can’t hide that wide smirk plastered on her lips, no matter how upset she is. It’s intoxicating. No matter how hard you’re huffing, the pleasure she derives from using you keeps you going.

Slamming your eyes shut, Ryujin does what you both want. Fucks you with her dildo hard, clenches and quelches with each careful, intricate stroke. Sometimes you’re in that position, taking her ass and ravaging her body as your own. Now it’s her turn, and she’s been taking after you. Between thrusts, she slaps your cheek, pulls on your neck and hair. You’ve built this alarmingly toxic work relationship, but the sex has never felt this invigorating, so cathartic. The perfect use of frustration to be channeled into something pleasurable and rapturous.

You’ve never seen Ryujin this focused, this committed to wrecking you. She’s using your hole with such ferocity you think she’ll make you bleed out. Behind those glazed, pleasure-filled eyes, she sees nothing but red. Difficult as it is, you follow a string of moans from her lips hidden beneath a continuous echo of groans from your end. It doesn’t help that these walls are thin and everyone on this floor can hear your escapades.

Neither of you care. There’s a good reason as to why she booked the whole floor to begin with.

The bed quakes, and quakes, and quakes—until it doesn’t.

A puzzlingly calm fills the room after countless minutes pass. Ryujin’s frantic breaths close the silent gap, having pulled the dildo from your hole. It’s slick. You realize the change of pace.

“Miss Shin, why did you stop?”

She doesn’t reply immediately. When she does, she’s still catching her breath between spoken words. “I told you—it wasn’t going to be enough. Lay down for me, will you?”

Without a second thought, you comply. This gives you an opportunity to truly see her in the flesh for the first time tonight. She’s wearing a combination of corset and lingerie, her juicy thighs layered with lace garter. Hopping off the bed, she unbuckles the strap around her waist, tossing it aside to the floor. You then focus on her plump ass, accentuated by her slim thong.

Damn, she looks better now than she does naked. You feel proud that she’s wearing your tailor-made lingerie.

Before you entertain the thought of undressing the very underclothes you’ve prepared for her, she slips the boxers off your ankles. She climbs onto the bed, stands atop you. Even with her short stature, in this position, she’s larger than life, a dominating presence that only desires complete control.

“Hmm, I don’t know what I should do. I could let you fuck me, but that doesn’t sound right for a punishment,” she comments, playfully placing a finger on her chin, jokingly thinking. For a brief moment, it does appear that she’s stumped.

When the idea hits her, her eyes widen, and she has this self-conceited look, as if she’s got it all planned out.

She reaches a hand down to her knee, slowly peels one of the stockings down to her ankles. Then she does the same for the other half. The way she positions both legwear on your cock is intentional; it’s to stir the idea of pounding into her cunt a real possibility. Your gaze remains fixated on Ryujin’s face, ever flawless in her scantily-clad figure, being her model self atop you.

As she tugs on the lace of her panties, you start reacquainting your mind with the image of her tight cunt. She lowers it, barely down her thighs, enough space to tease, enough to make your heart race. Her attention is nowhere close to you; she has other priorities, and fingering herself is one of them. She rubs a digit around her heat, moans out in ecstasy with the same energy as getting fucked. The trembles of her body send aftershocks that reverberate all over the bed.

It’s already hot enough to get fucked by Ryujin’s strap, but this—the sight of Ryujin pleasuring herself, mouth gaped wide open—is a hundred times better. This is the same reaction she has shown throughout the numerous times you’ve railed her, even though you’ve seen that face during sex. Against the mirror, against the water’s reflection, against the tinted windows of her cars—her face serves as motivation that keeps you hard whenever she demands it. Your hands begin to move on their own, reach down to the groin unknowingly, unsure of whether she’d want you to masturbate or not.

You feel your hard cock, already partially soaked with precum, dripping on her garter. As much as you want to keep them on, you can’t go against the deep seated urge to masturbate with her. Her foot begins to lean against your waist, right as you begin to stroke your shaft with your fingers. Moaning alongside her, you thrust your hips upward, passionately murmuring her name, with nothing but a singular thought: her pussy.

It’s etched on your needy lips. “You’re so sexy, Miss Shin. Please let me fuck you, God—”

She whines as though your hot breath is against her neck, growling a tone higher than normal. Her left foot is slowly clenching around your balls, the other at the bridge between your thigh and your crotch, gently nudging your free hand to move aside. She’s beginning to apply pressure on you, perhaps a subtle gesture to make you stop and give way for her feet to take over, but you’re engrossed in the moment to fully realize. Then again, subtlety isn’t her speciality.

It’s only when her foot presses down on your active hand that you slow to a complete halt. You gently rest her soles on your shaft, slowly wrap her soft toes around your tip. For the most part, their grip is shaky, but when they stick, they feel so slick, so warm, and significantly better than whatever effort your fingers can muster. She can’t wear heels without a few kisses placed on them, you recall; something about being Cinderella growing up, how she prefers to be treated, to receive nothing but showers of praise and attention, and you’re doing just that.

Her digits seemingly acknowledge what they’re stepping on, and soon enough it becomes the perfect makeshift ring to stimulate your cock. Her toes just feel the best, most direct spots around your sensitive shaft, gradually building momentum for when you eventually paint her pretty feet. At least, that’s the goal. You’re both drowning in pleasure, chasing separate highs, but using each other’s bodies as conduit for your own personal gain.

And it’s not that she doesn’t know; she knows. You’ve caught a glimpse of her half-lidded eye peeking down. She sees it, merely chuckles at the notion, and continues to finger herself atop your helpless body. Mutual trust brings you together; she won’t stop you as long as you won’t do the same to her.

“Yes, fuck, I’m gonna cum so hard,” you say, breaths hurried, and it isn’t a matter of if, but when. “Every part of you feels so good, Ryu.”

You’re past formalities at this point. She’s too far gone to care that you've called her by her casual name. Her fingers, both slick and warm at once, are catching fire from the frenzied pace she’s rubbing her clit, certain her dripping juices will find solace on your splayed figure. Racing with her orgasm, her underwear is halfway down her meaty legs, her very foundations shaking. Inadvertently pressing her foot tightly on your cock, she’s holding on for dear life, and it threatens to steal your soul before you reach that immaculate high.

With friction at an all-time high, one rough, slippery slip between her toes, all while your loins burn , moving as if you’re burying yourself deep in her cunt, eager to fill her with seed. The thin thread snaps. Sends you careening over the edge.

Your fall is accompanied by the endless scream of her name. To have your cock be graciously drained by her feet, it would be disrespectful not to. She’s still going, chasing that high even as your cum geysers all over her feet, spills over your knees, your belly, on the sheets, as if her own slick didn’t already make an utter mess of this five-star bed. You’re mentally cheering her on, distracting yourself from the endless cascade of seed gushing beneath you.

This disastrous mess finds you again, this time in the form of Ryujin’s orgasm. She orgasms, cries her loudest cry, her features at their most corrupted. Her pussy gushes like a rushing waterfall, completely soiling her legs and panties with her slick juices. Your groin manages to salvage whatever her thighs haven’t absorbed, and it’s a sticky pool that latches onto her dainty feet. When she steps off your cock, the squelch of wet seed splatters on the sheets until she touches the ground.

You both take some time apart, let the aftermath of your orgasms fizzle out. Ryujin assesses the damage to her body; she’s still a model, after all. She hastily rids of the soiled underwear, treating it like some kind of contaminated object that can only be cleansed by fire. From the looks of it, she’s committed something dangerous, and you’ve done something scandalous.

“Shit. We got carried away,” you say, lifting your head from the bed, panicked.

“No. You got carried away,” she replies, facing you with that familiar icy gaze. The honeymoon period is over. “Did I allow you to plant my feet on your cock? Huh?”

Swallowing your throat, you understand that she’s technically right, but also, she most certainly enjoyed the feeling of stepping on you—something you can use against her. Still, Ryujin’s word overrides all reasoning, no matter how logical they are.

You see her facade fall apart when she approaches you again. She climbs onto the bed like a cat, arches her back, and sends you back down to the mattress when she pounces on you. On her lips is the widest smirk you’ve ever seen on her.

She wants more.

Rising to her feet, she plants her toes directly on your chin, oozing with the remains of your cum mixed with hers. “You did this, now you’ll clean it up.”

As your tongue laps it up, she occasionally disrupts your rhythm by kicking you several times. Not that you’re hurting her (you couldn’t even if you tried) but for the delight of bringing you misfortune. It’s completely in line with the typical abuse and inhumane treatment you face from her during work hours. You won’t complain, but that was never in the cards, anyway.

“I can’t believe my stylist is a complete freak. Fucking hell,” she comments, glaring you down as you give her toe the occasional kiss. She’s visibly disgusted by the realization sinking in, but deep down, she knows you’re the exact stylist she’s been looking for.

—————

And as if that’s not enough, she’s found a punishment perfectly suited for you.

“Just so you know, you’re not getting paid after the stunt you pulled on me today,” says Ryujin, in reference to your accidental disappearance during the red carpet. You’re laid out on the floor, prone, your groans stifled by the living room carpet. Meanwhile, her feet tread all over your bare back at a steady tempo, leaving what could have easily been hickeys red marks and footprints on your skin.

“How long do I have left, Miss Shin?” you ask, voice almost indiscernible.

“About ten minutes,” she replies, looking out the hotel room window, watching dawn slowly break over the Parisian sky. “Don’t ever disappoint me again, do you understand? Freak.”

——————

(A/N: First commissioned work complete! Definitely exploring elements out of my specialty, did you expect her to peg OC? Fun dynamic to write, thank you for reading!)

(P.S. If you want to have your own story/idol written, you can send me a commission :D)

#smut #kpop smut #itzy #ryujin

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alligatorpie1945 · 25 days

Text

I have some thoughts

So as the finale is fast approaching, I know a lot of the #TechLives supporters are losing hope. BUT I still have faith that CX2 is him or at least a version of him. And there are a couple reasons why.

1. I don’t think for a second think the tbb crew would waste nearly THREE episodes of an already short and pivotal season with just a regular clone we have no attachment too. We have already seen these shadow assassins before. So if the identity of this particular shadow isn’t important, then WHY does he have so much plot armor and WHY haven’t we seen his face yet. If he was just another clone, they could easily just reveal that and nothing would be lost. Same if he just died, he could easily be replaced by ANOTHER SHADOW. So clearly the identity of this specific shadow is plot important.

2. Since we have already established that tbb typically doesn’t waste dialogue or screentime. What was going on here? They took several seconds to show Hemlock in this specific lab, (above the tower that earlier we saw another shadow standing guard at, episode 3 I think) looking at a some sort of tank. I bet is he is looking at Tech, healed and in a sort of dormant state. I have a theory that instead of CX2 being a crosshair clone, he could be a Tech Clone. Crosshair stated that the programming didn’t work on him due to his defective nature. WELL maybe it didn’t also work on Tech. So instead of dealing with another Crosshair. They kept Tech sedated and just used his dna to make a super ultra solider. That could explain the shadows utter lack of regard especially considering Omega.

Pic provided by @starwarsdinosaur

3. Possible finale ending: this also works out in the one episode left. Because if the shadow tech is killed, but they find the real tech alive and “sleeping” then they can rescue him and not have to worry about deprogramming him! HAPPY ENDING WITH THE ENTIRE BATCH AND I CAN DIE HAPPILY.

I do feel a little insane after typing this all out. But I needed to share my possibly delusional hope. Because god damnit, I really don’t think Tech died. Anyway, I would love to hear y’all’s thoughts.

#the bad batch #star wars #tbb #tech #cx 2 #tech lives #i’m loosing my mind #he can’t be dead I refuse to believe it

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sweaterkittensahoy · 11 months

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Regarding the CEO of Oceangate hating regulations because they "stop innovation", I wanna talk about my job for a second:

I am a technical writer. I write various documents for a company that deals exclusively in high-voltage. We make shit that is high-voltage. If you touch high-voltage shit that is not powered down you either briefly see your god, or you fucking die.

Last year, I got tasked to write a brief that basically boiled down to, "Stop fucking thinking you're always gonna remember to tell the new guy that number is wrong and just fucking email the tech writers because you fucking idiots nearly killed a guy forgetting to warn him that the insulation number is lower than it should be."

Not a great week for me.

My company is neck-in-neck with several similar companies in terms of clients/growth/all that shit.

We are doing VERY well. You know why? Because we loudly brag about our safety numbers to anyone who will listen. We use them as a selling point.

"Um, you just said someone nearly died."

Yup. Fucking hate that. But that was because safety regs WEREN'T being followed. Guess who got extra fucking bitching about safety regs? Me, the other tech writers, and the safety crew who found out the same way we did that shit was not being communicated.

And, I want to be clear, everyone in the C-Suite reacted appropriately to someone nearly dying with "WHAT THE FUCK NO WE ARE NOT OKAY WITH THAT." and the end result has been even MORE awareness of what my department does and how it keeps people safe.

I say all of that to say this: The company is innovating. While keeping safety at the forefront, the company is finding ways to cut costs that don't cost time in human pain, and they are finding ways to design what we make while keeping people even safer (You can't say safety is 100% certain when working in high voltage; it's literally not possible).

The fuckboy leading Oceangate didn't follow ANY safety guidelines for submersibles when he built his own. He wanted to waggle his dick around and impress people at his hubris. He wanted to prove that safety guidelines were for sheeple. And what he's done now, very likely, is killed several people and himself.

I have a lot of sympathy for the families of the people who are likely dead because they fell for a fucking charlatan. But that's how charlatans work: they talk a big enough game you can't NOT believe them, and then you reap what they sow.

He could have done is safely. He just thought he didn't HAVE to. He's dead alongside them but also their fucking murderer.

#oceangate #the titan #safety regulations

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junpei-iori-ace-defective · 1 month

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Thoughts about Hades 2 as a tech test player

Everything is under a read more bc. 1. Long post. 2. Spoilers for Hades 2.

1. The game is fucking s m o o t h. Loads quicker and everything feels more stream lined.

2. It’s somewhat harder than Hades 1. Idk if it’s bc of not having a super buffed character but I am definitely finding it a little more challenging. Not a bad thing though!

3. Melinoë plays a little different from Zag which is to be expected! We now have a sprint, spells, and new weapons. Already loving how regular casts and specials don’t have a cast limit. Also love the twin blades. Fast weapon go brrrrrrr.

4. I’m definitely interested in seeing what they do with gathering, farming, ect. Great way to add more stuff to do in and after runs.

5. This ties into 4 but, I love how there’s a bunch of stuff to do in Crossroads! In Hades 1, I never spent too much time in the house. I was always dashing through to do another run when not stopping to talk to people. The Crossroads is definitely a nice cool down area for after runs!

6. THE ART. Man everyone looks so good!!!! I can tell some of the sprites are still being worked on but everything still looks so damn clean. I love how everyone has backgrounds in their portraits!

7. APOLLO, HEPHAESTUS, HESTIA, SELENE. All of them look and sound so cool. Really looking forward to seeing their full boon lists and how they play with different weapons ect.

8. I’m really happy to see some of the OG gods returning. All of them look so sick and every time I see a boon from the first game I go “YOOOOOO”. Also Artemis physically appearing is sick as hell.

9. Really excited to get to know the new crew better! They’re all really compelling already!

10. The areas seem to be shorter. Like, I’m going through less rooms to hit the boss room. Idk if it’s bc it’s a tech test or if it’s intentional.

Speculation and questions

1. WHAT DID CHRONOS DO. ARE THEY DEAD? WHERE ARE THEY? Istg if Zag is dead I am going to c r y.

2. WHERE IS THAN, MEG, ACHILLES, NYX, EVERYONE FROM THE FIRST GAME? WHERE ARE THEY?

3. Hecate said something about Hermes trying to find a way to get from the underworld to Olympus. There was also some stairs going blocked by a ward in the weapon/training room. I wonder if there’s gonna be more areas to go through. Like. Erebus, Elysium, Asphodel, Tartarus, House, then Olympus? Maybe Olympus is gonna have its own areas completely. This would make sense for why the areas are shorter. Really interested to see what they do.

4. If the game looks like this already in its tech test stage….. this might be my game of the year if it gets a full release this year. (I love you P3RE but holy shit Hades 2).

There’s a lot more I could talk about, but I am tired and this is a long post lmao.

#l.txt #hades 2 #hades 2 spoilers #hades #hades 2 technical test #idk how I even managed to get accepted into the tech test but I’m really glad I did!#its super fun!#long post

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fantastic-nonsense · 5 months

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im soso curious, i need to know... why is tim a child of apollo? bless u for not going with fanon<3

[referencing how I decided who the Batfam's godly parents were in my PJO AU WIP]

People like to sort him into Athena because DC has spent the last few years emphasizing how smart he is and how he's better at the more “cerebral” and detective aspects of the job. But Tim’s most prominent pre-reboot traits are not actually his detective or tech skills: they’re his reckless, impulsive bravery, his ability to analyze and think very quickly on his feet in dangerous situations, and his "power of friendship" idealism.

He's a people person; it's one of his greatest strengths. Tim is like...physically incapable of going somewhere and not making at least one friend while he's there. Hell, when he ran off to travel the world on his "fuck you, I'll find Bruce on my own" trip he still managed to pick up his own little crew of assassin friends along the way. Making connections and talking to people and relying on others for help is how he successfully navigates being a hero, as he himself notes on multiple occasions:

"Did you think I was going to run all around the city, desperately trying to save everyone all by myself? I'm not Batman. I have friends." -Red Robin #12

Tim loves his family and friends, and losing so many people he's close to within such a small timespan sends him off the deep end in multiple ways (trying to clone Kon, fighting Dick to get the Lazarus water, isolating himself from everyone, fighting with Dick and running off to find proof that Bruce was alive on his own, etc).

At his core, Tim is an idealist who becomes a hero for no other reason than a) a broken man needs help and a broken family needs mending and b) if Dick won't go back to being Robin he might as well do it, because someone has to be Robin. He sees what will happen if Bruce stays on the path he's on and says "no. I'm not going to let that happen." He's a hero because someone has to help, and he's able and available to do so. He doesn't work on cold hard logic and facts. He works off of gut instinct and then uses his big brain to go find facts and logical conclusions that support those instincts.

Tim was never going to be an Athena child.

So I started thinking. At first, I wanted him to be a Hermes child; it seemed right to frame his parentage around being the child of the messenger of the gods given how he became Robin. But that's not really him, either. Apollo, within the scope of both classical mythology and the PJO-verse's depiction of him and his children, fits him better.

While modern culture tends to zero in a lot on Apollo's status as the god of music, poetry, and the arts (for good reason), Apollo in classical Greek mythology was first and foremost known as the god who (for lack of a better term) helps his people. He's the god of the sun, of light, of medicine and healing, of prophecy, of truth.

Tim comes into Bruce's life at a time when Bruce is at his absolute lowest point. Jason is dead. He's estranged from Dick. He's failing in his mission to save Gotham. He's highkey passively suicidal. And Tim takes it upon himself to fix that. And he does it by being a solid, bright, stable presence in Bruce's life and an extremely blunt, truthful messenger of the future he sees: Batman needs a Robin, and if Bruce doesn't have one he's going to die.

And I didn't abandon his intelligence in the calculations: Apollo is also the god of rational thinking, order, and knowledge, contrasting and working in harmony with Dionysus (the god of irrationality, chaos, and passion). He was also known to be the god whose job it was to interpret the will of Zeus to humankind, which I thought was appropriate for a boy who spends quite a lot of his time being the living communication translator between Bruce and everyone around him.

So. Apollo child.

............also I thought it was funny to make the god of youth the father of the boy DC refuses to allow to age.

#I also have a thread of connection running between Apollo being the god of plagues and Tim getting the Clench in Contagion #but that was kind of an aside to the whole thing #tim drake #tim drake meta #dc comics #bruce wayne #batman #my writing #batfam pjo au

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thesith · 2 months

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Can I request a Hunter x fem!reader where the Batch are undercover a criminal party for a mission and he asks her for a dance and they tear up the dance floor with their moves and undeniable chemistry? (Can be spicy or SFW, your choice)

If you need music to set the mood for the party, I got you:

— Dancing with a Stranger

hunter x f!reader

this is a requested one shot (1k)

warnings: 18+, sexual topics & implication of sex, alcohol usage

notes: neither hunter or reader are drunk/intoxicated - neither have finished their first drinks.

summary: hunter sees reader from across the room while he (and tech) are undercover at a pirate party for intel.

A/N: thank you so much for the request, @kombatkid ! this is my first request for tbb & i hope i did it justice. also, i’ve wanted to write a fic like this for so long - thank you for giving me reason to xd <3

requests are open!

“Hunter,” Tech started, eyeing the girl across the room, “If you do not initiate a conversation with her, I will.”

Hunter looked at his brother, wide-eyed, “What has gotten into you, Tech?” When the mentioned didn’t offer an answer, Hunter continued, “We have a mission - best we stick to it.”

“What better way to gather intel than from the source?” Tech’s eyes wandered to the girl clad in a dark red dress, hugging her form in all the right places. “It is not a bad thing to ‘let go’ once in a while. I am sure Echo would agree with me if he were here.”

Hunter’s mind wandered to his brothers stuck on the Marauder, wishing he didn’t have one of the less attention grabbing appearances in the group - face tattoo and all. The tattoo did help him fit in with the pirates surrounding him, though. At the change of the song, Hunter was brought back to reality - back to you.

“Am I allowed to say no?” Hunter rhetorically asked, already knowing what Tech’s answer would be. Before his brother could even reply, a sigh left Hunter’s lips, “If you record this, you’re on cleaning duty.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it!” Tech spoke, a mischievous glint in his eye. Once Hunter was far enough away from him, Tech started the recording for his brothers. Force, they were going to love this.

You leaned on a high table and observed the scene around you - loud music, dancing people, drinks. God, the drinks were incredible - they were the only reason you were there to begin with. Partying with people like you was definitely not your idea of fun, but people watching was. You took a sip of your drink, hardly having touched it. Your crew seemed to be having the time of their lives on the dance floor, leaving you by yourself. That was how all of these outings went - they coerce you that “it will be fun!” and “you’ll have a great time!”, but these parties have yet to live up to either expectation.

You were disturbed from your thoughts when a man with a half-skull tattooed on his face walked up to you - he looked to be having as much fun as you were. He stood beside you, holding a drink of his own and sipping from it. You’d be the first to admit he’s attractive - more attractive than anybody else in the crowded room. You turned to face him fully, placing your elbows on the table.

After a few moments of pounding music in the background, the man spoke.

“Do you wanna…” He awkwardly started, motioning with his head toward the pit of people, “with me?”

You thought for a moment. Anyone who’d asked before you declined immediately, yet this was tempting. You weren’t sure if it was the alluring presence of the man or if the liquor was hitting, but you ultimately decided to accept the invitation, taking the hand he offered.

The man led you to an open space between people before grabbing hold of your waist and giving you a look, asking if his hand placement was okay. You nodded, letting a smile grace your lips. A polite and handsome man? That’s a first at parties like these.

A familiar song came on, to which your eyes lit up - you love this song. You’d always wanted to dance to it at parties like these, but you’d never had a partner to. You felt yourself let go of whatever front you were putting up and allowed your hips to sway, the hands on your waist gripping you tighter.

You’d found yourself with your back turned to the stranger after the first verse, his hands now on your stomach. You bent over and brought your hands up your legs, leaving his hands to trail to your hips. Your ass brushed against his crotch, something almost bursting at the seams of his trousers. As you came back up, your back was flush against his chest and he breathed heavily in your ear, head slightly tilted downward.

The two of you continued the sensual dance to the song - two strangers in sync. The chemistry between you only strengthened with each song played, the last song ending with both of you out of breath and leaning against each other - your hands on the nape of his neck, tangled in his hair and his hands gripping your waist. Sweat was now dripping from your faces as you looked at the man you didn’t even know the name of - he was perfect.

For the first time, you didn’t want the night to end. Usually you were anticipating the time to leave - not this time. You were with the perfect man, who somehow single-handedly made the experience one of the best you’ve ever had.

“All of that and I didn’t even catch your name,” he whispered into your ear, the music finally having been turned off. You refused to move, as did he - you were both enjoying it too much.

“You know, everyone has to pass the dance test before earning that right,” You joked with him. You leaned back far enough to see the smile on his lips - along with the blush on his cheeks.

A laugh fell from his lips, ��Surely I got a passing grade.”

“Just barely,” You offered your name with a smile, and learned his name - Hunter. “Well, Hunter. Thank you,” You combed your fingers through his hair, “I had a good time. Too bad it’s over.”

Hunter thought for a minute before boldly speaking, hoping he didn’t read the room wrong - “Who says it’s over?”

The next morning (after getting your comm channel), Hunter returned to his brothers on the Marauder. They all greeted him with knowing looks - looks that said ‘you got laid’ in not as many words.

“I am impressed by your ability to ‘connect’ with people,” Tech said, eyes trained on his datapad. “I would not be surprised if you returned with no information - thank the Force I was there too.”

“Didn’t know you could move like that, Hunter!” Wrecker laughed with a clap to Hunter’s upper-back, “Ya gotta teach me sometime!”

“Cleaning duty for the next month, Tech.” Hunter winced, knowing his brothers have all seen his less-than PG dancing with a stranger. He walked to the bunks, ready to get some much needed sleep before hearing someone’s muttering.

“Worth it.”

tags: @skellymom @burningfieldof-clover @dangraccoon

if you’d like to be tagged, fill out my taglist form through the word “agree” in my bio or at the bottom of my masterlist! <3

thank you for reading! check out my masterlist!

#star wars #the bad batch #bad batch #sw tbb #tbb #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch hunter #star wars fanfiction #hunter x reader #tbb hunter #xena’s fics

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superstarz9 · 3 days

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Ya’ll fw a couple MORE Mr. Puzzles hcs?

Cause I got them :}

He was gifted the hat by his mom. It’s a permanent part of him with how much he’s worn it.

He gets it, and won’t say anything about it, but he hates it when he regarded as just the scary “tv” head guy. He’s much more than a pretty screen, people!

The pants are custom made and he has like 20 pairs. He also has several pairs of his shirt and vest.

Will change the second there’s a spot on his clothes. He needs to remain as pristine as possible.

If he wasn’t a workoholic, he’d beat all the moms at candy crush. He’d try to be a literal god at candy crush, and would honestly buy extra lives if he was furious with how the match went and he ran out.

Plays computer solitaire to distract himself when the ratings aren’t good or he needs a mental reset.

Adding to these two, since he has computer elements in his brain (probably), he can probably predict where the game is going to go. The older the console, the easier it is.

He’d be a god at minesweeper.

Does not and will not swear no matter how bad it gets.

If he goes to a concert, he’ll just be doing the equivalent of maladaptive daydreaming the whole time, planning out shows and movies for the songs

Loves the orchestra. He loves movie scores and would totally go to those events where there’s an orchestra playing the soundtrack live as the movie plays.

He’ll whine about not having friends or being able to talk to people but he will refuse to talk to anyone in public, going so far as to mute anyone who tries speaking with him. If he’s at an event and someone tries sparking a conversation with him, he’ll look away awkwardly and reply with “uh huh, yep, oh wow,” and so on until they leave. In a relationship, you could introduce him to people but he’s still be the same unless you were apart of the conversation.

Loves movie/show trivia but it’s a double-edge sword. If you take him on a date to a bar for movie trivia night, he’ll have fun and get everything right (and infodump a lot) but a question will pop up and the official answer will be wrong and Mr. Puzzles will just go ballistic.

Canonically has hammer-space abilities in the shows and can pull out anything he needs. Need a first-aid kit? Got it right here. Emergency costume? Has your size in multiple colours to choose. Someone pissed you off? Just say when and he’ll have something ready.

He doesn’t have proper heating in the studio(since he doesn’t need it) and the place is freezing when there’s the slightest breeze outside.

He uses different colognes and even used febreze a few times to smell his best, but he perpetually smells like cigarettes

He kins spongebob.

Technically canon but he’s an entrepreneur, and has multiple businesses (a tech company based on the keyboard from it’s gotta be perfect, selling the showgrounds). He also phrases puzzlevision as his “latest business venture,” in the movie’s teaser. He bounced between different businessed to earn enough money to buy the studio and the equipment he’d need.

With that being said, he’s unintentionally a con artist. Though he tries to have a somewhat clean business, he cuts corners often to get the products out sooner or doesn’t perform proper safety protocol. He doesn’t really care, though, as his main goal was and is Puzzlevision. He pretty much stopped the second he found the smg4 crew.

Terrible at art. He tries, but not even you can hold back your laugh if you see his art.

If he hasn’t slept for a while his voice is warped and a little glitched.

I forgot if I already posted this but his underpants are so those heart boxers but instead of hearts they’re stars.

So real quick, I just wanted to say that ONE OF MY HEADCANONS HAS BE CONFIRMED LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! It is now confirmed that Mr. Puzzles CAN speak multiple languages, but still needs subtitles. God, I love being right /j

Fr tho, it’s really awesome having him back so soon. Maybe a little early, but I’m not complaining lol. From the sounds of it, he’ll be a reoccurring villain like SMG3 used to be, which I’m honestly relieved by. It’ll be rlly refreshing having a silly antagonist again honestly. I’m looking forward to seeing more of this fricken nerd lol

Also if you guys have any suggestions or requests please let me know! Questions and comments are also appreciated! Thanks and have a great day!

#headcanons #mr puzzles #mr puzzles headcanons #puzzlevision

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sleeplesssmoll · 5 months

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Can you imagine everyone in the suitcase getting together to prepare the Foundation Kids’ first Christmas 🥹🥹🥹

The gift exchanging and the cuteness would be the most wholesome thing! Little Santa hats for all! Honestly this became a long list of HCs and not all of them are related to Christmas. It'll be Crew member and Vertin interactions because it'd be a lot to do it both ways for every single character. My ears are open for anyone who wants to share their HCs!

Regulus (actually Apple) gives a Vertin a set of high quality paint brushes. She also gives her also a weird rotund plushy with this face

• _ •

This is the real one Regulus picked but she and Apple work as a pair. She says it's face reminded her of Vertin. Vertin will keep this new friend among her growing collection of oddities from her crew members. She keeps everything they give her, even if it's just a pretty marble.

Joshua gives her a DIY woodworking book and then brings up his bookshelf being broken (hidden agenda!) At first the others are like "wth?" but Vertin seems to love it. You know the little game pieces we see throughout the game to represent the characters? Vertin makes something similar with her new skill and they use them when developing strategies. Jessica and Sonetto like to help her paint them. Druvis gives her tips (since she's a wandmaker she has more experience). Also, Vertin does fix his shelf eventually and made a few adjustments so it won't break again.

I see Vertin as the type who can figure out those God awful assembly instructions with 70 different letters and numbers labeling everything. For tech stuff, Regulus and Joshua have them covered. They try not to ask X if they can help it because despite being a genuis he always adds an unnecessary feature. No I don't need my camera have a "brew coffee" function!

None of the "fix-it" people above can put together a proper meal though.

Madam Z is invited but couldn't make it (Constantine at it again). She sends Vertin a very elegant coat with a water proof enchantment to keep her both warm and dry. She she noticed Vertin's grown a bit taller and she'll most likely need a new coat.

Tooth Fairy also couldn't make it (helping Madam Z so she can get leave the office sooner and they can celebrate with wine). She sends Vertin a jar of candies and a finely crafted pocket knife. Why a pocket knife? No one knows for sure. Despite no one getting it at first, whenever they have a package they can't open, a freshly picked fruit from the garden, etc. they ask Vertin if she has her knife. Of course she does. She's Suitcase Dad lol. Tooth Fairy was predicting the future.

Sotheby will give her candies that are actually healing potions! It's one of her newest creations! They're more convenient than carrying potion bottles. There are a few...side effects but nothing too major. Vertin is extremely grateful for this and carries a few in her pocket at all times in case someone gets hurt. This usually ends up being herself (in combat) or Sotheby tripping and scraping her knees, palm, etc. She'll hesitate to take the candy herself (because what if someone else needs it later?), even when she's barely standing but heaven forbid one of her people gets a boo-boo or a bruise. It's frustrating as it is endearing.

Sonetto gives her a tin of her favorite brand of tea and a thermal blanket. Vertin's the type of person with a cooler body temperature. In winter, her hands are freezing! This worries Pupnetto even though the Foundation trains them to endure cold temperatures. However, most of the other members end up snuggling in the heated blanket, including Sonetto herself (she is slowly unlearning the Foundation's way of suffering pointlessly) but she will share it with Vertin when she does. Vertin doesn’t mind. Honestly, Sonetto is hot blooded (the opposite of her) so having her nearby makes it warmer anyway.

And Sonetto's always at her side. She doesn't worry about the cold.

Druvis gives Vertin a wand with her arcanum built into it. It's shaped like a pistol, similar to Schneider's but it's nonlethal. The "bullets" are infused with the slime from Druvis's thorns and can hinder enemy movements (inflict petrify status). This way she can "protect" Vertin even if they're apart. With more eyes on the Suitcase than ever, she believes Vertin needs to take extra precautions. Vertin takes very good care of the gun (though she's never had to use it in real combat yet) and when they do co-op missions with other departments it garners a lot of attention from the soldiers.

Druvis is not accepting requests at this time.

Blonney gives her an ugly Christmas sweater but her gag gift backfires when Vertin looks cute. Stupid yes, but cute. Also the fabric is very soft and Vertin seems very cozy inside.

Later, Blonney gives her the real gift. She was too shy to give it to her in front of the others but there's a hand written card thanking her everything she's done for her and Jessica. There's money in the card of course. Jen also gives her a little short story she wrote. Not a horror one, but a sweet one about a curious kitten going on misadventures and making friends. Vertin can immediately tell its based on the shenanigans she gets into with her crew members. Blonney doesn't stick around long (blushing too hard) but Vertin is moved by this. The crew members are represented by their Udimos!

Jessica gives Vertin a doll (think chibi) she made that looks like the Timekeeper and it has removable accessories. For Christmas, the chibi Vertin is wearing a Santa suit. Sometimes the doll goes missing from her shelf if she's gone for more than a day (work relates reasons). 98% of the time it's with Sonetto who crumbles like a guilty puppy if Vertin asks about its whereabouts. The separation anxiety is real. Vertin recognizes this and eventually says it looks happier in Sonetto's room. She asks Sonetto to please take good care of her (the doll). Vertin also makes more effort to "call" home or send a message with arcanum tech after this event.

She's not used to having people wait for her at home, but one day in the near future she will be.

#reverse 1999 #ask #HC galore #tis the season #i need someone to stop me #what do people say these days #sedate me?#do that

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nin-jay-go · 10 months

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for morrotober i posted a pirate au thing, and like 2 ppl were interested in it, but then i didn't think about it for a while KJSHFKJKJH but uhhh yea i have a full fledged treasure planet au because i can't keep away from funky alien stuff

here's the crew! minus wu bc he didn't fit into the scene but he's here in spirit lol (he's the captain) he can be taking the photo

brief synopsis before i go ramble under the cut: kai, cole, jay, and zane all met when they stole the golden tech-weapons from a museum, then when the weapons called them all to each other again, they formed a crew to take down garmadon and then just do general space pirate stuff. they're only considered pirates bc they do slightly illegal stuff in the name of good, but everyone hails them as heroes (except the actually bad pirate crews they dismantle)

anywayz feel free to send in asks because OH MY GOD IVE PUT SO MUCH EFFORT INTO WORLDBUILDING

vwoop here i go

kai, nya, and cole are humans. well, cole was human but i'll get to him later. this is a universe where humans are space orcs, so they're referred to as deathworlders more often than not. jay's an alien, raised on earth, and lloyd is half alien, raised on a moon colony. zane and pixal are automatons, though built on different planets, so their technology is a bit different. wu is fully alien and the same species lloyd is.

speaking of which, wu and lloyd are the captains. wu is the actual captain, and lloyd is the captain that they show off. he has a cool mech suit that hides the fact that he's a child (bc i didn't age him up). they're a species known as dragoni, ancient beings of creation and destruction that have witnessed the birth of the universe. wu hides his status as a dragoni from the public, and lloyd hasn't quite learned how to shapeshift his dragoni traits away.

nya's the first mate because she makes good decisions and also has a mech suit, and she's absolutely terrifying. people are right to fear her, and most of the time are more afraid of her than they are of the actual captain.

kai's the fighter and crew big brother. he's always the one to make sure everyone's safe and accounted for, and he's the one that takes the longest watches (other than the automatons and cole). he's also, alongside wu, in charge of finances, and can handle weapons in a pinch. he kinda does anything he wants on the ship tbh

zane's the cook and sniper. he likes ranged weapons and is pretty adept with guns, so he likes hanging out in the crow's nest to keep an eye out for things. he's also the only one who can cook, so they trust him to make good food.

jay's the engineer and shipwright. he's a species known as a lectrite, which have an innate sense for when lightnign's about to hit. he also can tell when storms are coming, so he helps pixal with navigation if they see a storm on the horizon.

cole's the muscle and helmsman. he's an infected ghost (because the ghost species pass on the "curse" through infection), used to be human, and the strongest member of the crew. he doesn't really need his legs anymore, so all his strength is in his arms now.

pixal is the navigator and other helmsman, when cole isn't available. she's also one of the best fighters on board, and is unafraid to kick ass. she might as well be the second mate at this point, because she kicks just. so much ass. she's so cool. she also assists with shipwrighting stuff with jay.

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cuddles-with-dragons · 5 months

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The Everything's Fine AU

It's what we hope will happen in S3.

Tech's alive and fine. Crosshair rejoins the Batch. Everyone's alive.

Oh, and they join the Rebellion.

And cause the Empire so much chaos.

Also they team up with the Ghost crew.

It's fun.

~~~

Chopper: When do I get my own gun? Echo: I wouldn’t trust you with a Nerf gun.

Chopper: Dinosaurs aren't extinct. I mean, Echo is walking in this room. Crosshair: *wheeze*

Echo: What’s wrong? You look 10 seconds away from ripping someone’s throat out. Hera: Fucking Ezra and Omega were trying to summon a Sith force ghost again last night. I didn't get an ounce of sleep, thanks to their bloody chanting.

Hunter: Don't worry, I've got a few knives up my sleeve. Zeb: I think you mean cards. Omega: He did not. Hunter, pulling out knives: I did not.

Hera: I’m telling you, my team is competent. Crosshair, rushing in: Hera! Your boyfriend tried to make pasta in the coffee pot and now it's broken!

Stormtrooper: You’re under arrest for trying to carry three people on a single speeder bike. Omega, with Sabine and Zeb behind her: Wait, what do you mean THREE?! Stormtrooper: Yes…three. Omega: Oh, my God— What the fuck!? Stormtrooper: Wha- Omega: Ezra FUCKING FELL OFF!

Crosshair: What are you doing here? Chopper: I could ask you the same question. Crosshair: I live here. This is my squad's ship. Chopper: I should probably ask you a different question.

Ezra: Crosshair has only punched me three times this week. Our friendship is really developing.

Tech: *Shoves the door open, looking panicked* Kanan: What did you do?! Tech: NOBODY DIED! Kanan: WHAT KIND OF ANSWER IS THAT?!

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gourmetjello · 4 months

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könig x reader : microwave

hey loves, hopefully könig isn’t getting too boring !! i’m quite obviously a könig blog for now but i would love to write about others too maybe a bit later, i was thinking about keegan, ghost, krueger or maybe even horangi? any opinions on these guys? (｡- .•)

you know the drill already -> 2nd person pov (it’s working pretty well!) and english isn’t my first language so bear with me. this will be a more lighthearted and shorter fic! i’ve been promising a fluff for a few days now but gosh, i feel like i would mess it up and könig would be to ooc. that’s just my personal fear though bahaha

also in this oneshot könig is wearing his mask / sniper hood for the first time ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝) hope you’ll enjoy! (bunch of dialogue in this one ahaha)

—

the kortac base was always eerily quiet and dark around nighttime and it even creeped some people out. you weren’t really one of them, but you couldn’t deny that the thought of being surrounded by so many guns and other kinds of weapons didn’t exactly make you feel safe and sound at night. not like you spent so much time in the main building after midnight, but still.

one night though, you happened to be in one of the rooms because the microwave in the dormitory stopped working. it’s a stupid little thing, but it did indeed cause a mass panic among the people in the crew! everyone was rushing to grab their already prepared meals from the fridges, trying to get to the microwave first. they got to warm up their food and was all that mattered — however, you totally forgot about this silly tech chaos.

you stood in front of the already yellowed microwave in the shared dormitory kitchen, pressing every button you could possibly lay your finger on. it made a little beeping noise after your aggressive presses, but after displaying ‘error’ instead of the time, you gave up. it just wouldn’t start spinning and it wouldn’t light up either. what a stupid piece of technology!

loud sighs could be heard in the empty room ws your finger gently knocked against the already cracked and slightly dirty plastic shell of the microwave. you didn’t even dare to open the door of it and look in there with maybe a light or something — you were totally scared that you would find some kind of nasty black mold growing in there. which was probably the case. and it made you feel so uneasy! but oh well, soliders are so cheap — you thought and carried on.

you were fine with eating cold food, as long as it had some nutritional value, but when a bunch of people in camouflage outfits passed you with steaming warm meals on their trays, you just had to stop in your tracks.

“hey, where did you heat that-“

but everyone was too busy with eating their soggy yet warm food. they were all eating like they have been starving for at least three weeks! and the way they knocked you out of the way to get to the fridge made you freeze up for a second — gosh, these men (and women too, surprisingly) can drink a can of no name beer like it’s the finest liquid to ever flow on planet earth!

you quickly had to realize that you were on your own in this situation. or well, maybe not a hundred percent on your own because there was that small plate of clumped together mashed potatoes and a can of ice cold soup on your plastic tray. your fingers slightly trembled as you were about to pick it all up and sit down next to someone, pretending that they were piping hot like theirs — but you accidentally caught someone blabbering about how it was such a smart touch to put a microwave in the main building too.

that small little sentence you happened to hear was almost like a god-sent miracle, it made you immediately grab everything that was in front of you and you practically rushed to the lobby of the kortac base. it was pretty dark in there and you weren’t too familiar with where the light switches were there, but it didn’t bother you that much because all you could possibly care about in that moment was getting your food all nice and wamed up.

and guess what — the microwave was working. what a blessing!

you watched as the device light up with an orange-ish tint and you could see your canned soap going round and round on the little glass plate inside. the microwave lit up the entire room with a pretty yellow color, making you forget how quiet and dark it actually was in there.

the sweet little chime that played as it finished spun in your head on repeat like it was the best sound ever, signaling that you could finally eat after a long and tiring day. as soon as you took out the soup, you immediately paced the mashed potatoes in there as well, wanting to heat them up as quick as possible. it was satisfying to see the timer go down, and when you thought about getting something to drink, maybe a glass of water, you turned around-

only to see the barrel of a gun pointing at you.

you could barely make out the shape in front of your eyes in the dimly lit room, but once you realized what shape it was your heart immediately started beating in your throat. as a trained solider, you knew better than to make a sound in a situation like this, but come on. was someone pulling a horrible prank on you?

“who’s.. who’s this?” you asked with a weak voice, what a mistake. you knew you were never ever supposed to form a question when something dangerous was going on, but you had to know.

“i’ll tell you while i pour that boiling can of soup on you, how does that fucking sound?” the voice was familiar, but you couldn’t exactly put your finger on who it could belong to.

“e-excuse me?”

as the microwave finished heating your mashed potatoes up, it made three short beeps and the light stayed on, blinking every once in a while. the sounds it made broke the silence between you and this mysterious person that really wanted to commit some kind of crime on base, for whatever reason.

or maybe you were taking this too lightly? what if it was actually someone that broke into the base and is actually not kidding while saying all of these things? you knew quite a few people that could kill people without even thinking twice, the military was simply a place like that, but gosh, why would anyone say this to their own co-worker? it had to be someone who’s actually a threat. right?

as the yellow light blinked every few seconds, you just had to look up in case you knew who this person could be. and as soon as you saw how low the mysterious man had to hold compared to his own body and weight, you could immediately make a guess.

“könig?”

“huh?”

“what the fuck are you doing? put the gun down!”

it looked like something clicked in his brain too as he heard your voice again and he lowered the gun to his side, or at least that was what you were able to see. he then lightly leaned down but what you saw next absolutely creeped you out — he had some kind of cloth on his face! did this man totally go insane?

“i demand an.. explanation?”

“hm?”

“..like, i need you to tell me what this whole thing was about!”

“i mistook ya’ for an intruder.” he shrugged.

you stayed silent for a few seconds.

“you really thought that someone would break in all sneakily and.. warm up some food? are you being serious right now?”

“you can never know.”

“and what’s this rag on your head?

“rag?”

“yeah.”

“it’s um. equipment. sniper.”

“you’re not even a sniper.”

“shut up. i can be a sniper.”

“is that a t-shirt?”

“no.”

you could barely see what was on his head but judging from the way it just hung down, you were almost 99% sure in it being just an old t-shirt. the idea felt so silly, yet you had to admit that someone in a mask like that standing in this dark room would really make someone shit their pants.

“it is. you could have gotten a.. um, like, fake leaves. like others do. or that net on your head or something. you know, anything that looks a little more.. professional?”

“yeah, ya’ don’t like it?”

“i did not say that, just..”

“want a bullet in yer’ fucking stupid brain?”

“no.”

“i thought.”

“you thought?”

“i thought.”

“you thought so?”

“ja. thought so.”

“your english still sucks.”

“don’t need it.”

you took a deep sigh and you took a moment to think about how pathetic this scene could look to someone viewing this whole thing from the doorway or outside or anything like that. it was almost like you were watining for a cameraman to walk out from behind one of the chairs in the room and tell you how this will be a great scene for their next draining comedy series.

“you do need it.”

“nein.”

“what a great sense of humor you got there.”

“another joke.. and i, eh, really shoot you. understood?”

“oh gosh. okay.”

—

really short !! so sorry, this was all i could do today. thank you for the kind words, the many likes and the 20 followers. ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

good night!

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