#content creation is still his job

[radioactive-dazey]

My thoughts on Thomas Sanders (criticism but more of me complaining)

Something I don't see people talk about nearly enough (read: not at all) is the fact that, we are still analyzing videos that came out 4+ years ago.

It's not the "analyzing old videos" that's the problem. It's the fact there hasn't been any new content since then. It really feels like (at least to me) the fandom (once again, could be just me) is desperately picking at episodes like POF or SVS for any scraps left behind.

I started one of my fics about a year after POF came out and I remember being nervous because "This takes place immediately after putting others first, this could become really dated really fast"

Turns out I had nothing to worry about.

Lack of plot relevant content is one thing. Everything else that has resurfaced rubs salt in the wound.

Oh, and now to address the fandom itself: some of yall have an insane perspective on everything. I'm all for trying to be objective about the criticism (bc lets be real, one or two things ive seen circulating makes me scratch my head,) but blatantly defending Thomas with "he doesn't owe you anything" is so fucking WILD to me.

He's a content creator. It's his job to make content. Ofc nobody expects him to pump it out like a factory machine, and there's mental health to consider, but it is still his job to make content.

I don't even know where this ideology came from. Who sent you all down that path. Was it Thomas complaining setting a boundary over someone demanding content?

For clarification I don't think anyone should be messaging Thomas to demand content but like... come on dude.

Scalding take, Thomas SHOULD thank us for supporting him.

If he's getting burned out from creating TSS content, we as his fandom are entitled to know instead of sitting and waiting. Did you guys know we are closer to the 10 year aniversarry than we are the 5 year one?

It all sucks horribly. I still want to support him. I still want to wait and see what he does next. I still love Sanders Sides and Cartoon Therapy and My Roommate is Hades. But I feel so hypocritical to still support and follow him when all this shit is piling up. I know nobody is forcing me to stick around, but without Sanders Sides, I have nothing going on in my life. This is my only community, and I somehow managed to tie it down with two of my only hobbies with it.

Does he know a chunk of the fandom is angry and now watching his every move? He should.

Edit: oh and I saw spoilers from the patreon of what the new ep is going to be. It's not worth the wait for me personally. Lowkey I think the premise alone is weak asf but I don't know the thing they're referencing super well. Doesn't add much to this post but I wanted to bitch about that too.

[fromchaostocosmos]

Right now I can't fully article my feelings, and I haven't been able to for some, but I have big feelings on how much of the internet and tumblr was all of over Alex Hirsch, a Jew, and his creation, Gravity Pines, and specifically the new content when it came out, the Book of Bill all while they were being horrific and still are being horrific to Jews.

There is something about how goyim will consume us and consume that which we make and yet not for moment give a single care for us.

For all that they compare us to parasites and vampires the horrifying truth is that this is parasitic relationship, but we are not the ones doing draining here.

It is the most toxic radioactive relationship ever and any time we try to leave, try to point that out, try to do anything about we are the monsters.

When we say hey it is fucked to call us demons we are told that just proves we are the truth we are demons.

When try to fit what they want we are called duplicitous and deceptive.

When we try to embrace our everything that they have try to kill out of us we are called Nazis, white supremacists, and colonizers you know the names of those who have tried to murder us and still keep trying to.

They will take what we make, what we create, what we have, and what we are happy to share until there is nothing left and when they are done they want us to be silent husks who think nothing, hear nothing, speak nothing, do nothing, are nothing.

We should be dust. Stay down on the ground and be trodden upon.

We should be a broken people, a hopeless people, an empty people, who come from nowhere and have no where to go. Forever Strangers in a Stranger Land that is how we should be and we should accept that and be grateful for it.

But we don't and that is unacceptable to them. That we are an ancient people with deep ties and much history and Homeland is unacceptable. That we refuse to anyone's pawns is unacceptable.

That we do not forget and refuse to is seen as the great betrayal.

Our job in their eyes is to be things not people. That we insist on having our humanity recognized is a part of makes us evil and has been a key aspect of our struggle for thousands of years.

[lady-raziel]

and alright, here's my last (let's hope) and boldest take yet. lots of people have been talking about the level of staff (around 25-ish people) at watcher, and whether downsizing that number could have been a potential avenue of reducing costs before just jumping to a subscription model. at first i was like yeah, i'm not sure that there needs to be 18 people involved in making a lets play. i was in the fucking trenches in the unus annus days and i'm still amazed how markiplier and ethan nestor managed to put out pretty well edited videos every day for a whole year with only a handful of editors and a couple people filming. what unus annus was trying to do and what watcher is trying to do are obviously pretty different, but the point is that you really don't need a whole crew of people to make lots of different types of content and do it well.

i still think there probably doesn't need to be a whole production crew involved with the creation of some of the simpler types of content watcher puts out. however, i don't think the size of the staff is the real problem. in fact, i think the staff of watcher probably should have been larger.

let me explain. if i begrudgingly go to one of my most detested websites (linkedin. *bleeegh*) and look up watcher, i can see that pretty much every person on staff is in a creative role of some sort by their own admission. at first glance, its like, oh, that makes sense. they're making creative products, it's natural that they should all be in creative roles. however, once you think about it for a little longer from a business perspective, that fact is really concerning.

after all, by watcher's own definition, this is a production studio. this is a company. So in this sea of creative roles, who's doing corporate planning? Who's managing finance? Who's doing payroll? Or brand outreach? Or human-freaking-resources??? you can hire outside groups for all this. i'm aware. but those services cost a lot of money to contract too. i'm just finding it concerning that there is pretty much no one on full time staff that is there to at least do some of this stuff. if watcher wants to be a big-boy company, that's fine, but that means you have to pay some people to be part of your company to do the not-fun business stuff like accounting. or resource management.

if they want to be a real company, they should actually have a lot more people on staff to deal with all the non-creative parts of running a company. even if they contract out most of it, you want at least a few people that are your people and don't actually work for someone else. that's how you don't get screwed over or end up in a contract you can't get out of.

which leads me to my last train of thought. like, as i go through the staff of watcher and look at what they do, it really seems like one of the ONLY people who's job it was to look at the business side of things WAS steven lim in his role as CEO. and thinking about that, i'm like god, can you imagine?? here's a guy who just wants to create cool stuff too but as one of the few people who has to think about the realities of Brand and the Business, HE has to be the one to burst the bubble. He as CEO has to say no to people and make decisions to make sure the company survives. In a group of creative people who just want to make things they're interested in, no expense spared, he was probably the guy who had to stay at least a little tethered to reality.

I'm not about to say that steven lim isn't to blame here. everyone involved in making the decisions that have led up to this point is part of this. but shit, it absolutely sucks to have to be the person at the end of the brainstorm session when everyone is coming up with their best ideas and to have to say "guys, i don't think any of these things are possible unless we make some big decisions."

is that what happened at watcher HQ? i don't know. at this point, with radio silence from everyone, speculation is all we've got. but if you follow the thread of a bunch of creatives striking out on their own to make their own business after being burned by their former employer, despite not knowing really how to run a business, and then only hiring fellow creative people and not other people who actually run business things... well, all of this starts to make slightly more sense in WHY none of watcher's actions make sense. everybody wants to stick it to the man and be their own boss with their own business, until it actually comes to the hard parts of doing that. at that point people start to realize, "oh, maybe some of the things that existed at my old job were there for a reason, actually."

all this is why lots of creatives striking out and starting their own businesses don't work in the end. they're thinking about in terms of creative products still, when they really need to be focusing more on the "business" part of the "creative business." it's sad. it sucks. it destroys a lot of good ideas and good people, because one person in every company like that has to be the one who thinks practically. could this have been avoided if watcher had been hiring people all along to manage this business and not just adding people to add to the creative output? maybe. even then it might not have been enough to curb other predictable impulses that led us down this path.

i feel bad for watcher, and i feel bad for the fandom. but i can't help but wonder if this was always the kind of situation we were going to end up in, and we just missed some of the warning signs because ALL of us were thinking, "well, that could never happen to us. we're different. not the Ghoul Boys."

[auspicioustidings]

You're not some super popular influencer or anything, but you have enough of a following that you were able to make content creation your full time job a year ago. It's bizarre to you still, you started out doing true crime videos because you genuinely enjoyed the research and the mystery of it all, you never expected people to like them so much.

Your most recent one makes you wildly sad. Nobody really knows what the hell happened to the Riley family. Dad who had overcome a struggle with addiction, mum who by all accounts was universally liked, young son who wanted to be a footballer when he grew up. There was so much unanswered, so many threads to follow that led to a suspicious void of nothing. The dad had a brother who had went missing only months before, who was later declared dead but nobody knew how.

Is it ghoulish of you to drag the story of this tragedy out and question the circumstances? Honestly you are sure it is. You want some sort of justice for them, but you're not blind to the fact you are making money off of this because people find tragedy entertaining. As always the majority of the profits from the video, and they are significant, go to helping the victims. In this case there isn't any family left to ask, so you donate it between a few charities. You never tell your audience it's what you do because it would feel sort of gross, like you're justifying what is a morally questionable style of content.

Still the story sticks with you. You've never involved yourself too much with the emotions behind these things, but this time you can't help it. You visit the Riley family grave, leave a toy for Joseph and flowers for his parents.

"You want to go grab a drink?"

The masked stranger who sneaks up on you when you're laying the flowers is massive and intimidating, but there is something so overwhelmingly sad about him. You say yes and Simon gives his brother's grave a raised eyebrow. It would be just like Tommy to set him up with some video essayist who referred to him as 'Thomas Riley's absent brother" and proceeded to be politely scathing about his line of work. He's watched the video more than once.

Suppose he'll have to set you right.

[todorokies]

jjk characters as male thot jobs

including: satoru gojo, suguru geto, toji fushiguro, kento nanami

contents: sfw but very suggestive, jjk men acting like sluts, gn!reader but there is a fem term used once

a/n: you might not consider some of these as “thot jobs” but im here to hypnotize you ouuuuhhh *wiggles fingers around* .. this is so silly but i had a blast writing this one

☆ . . . since gojo’s brain is hardwired to find teasing others amusing and quite the pass time i could see him as a dentist. you go to your local clinic for a annual deep cleaning and this man purposely goes out of his way to make things seem inherently sensual but still manages to do his job professionally. he’ll coo and praise you for following the most regular orders “now open real nice and wide for me … that’s righttt, good girl.” and “bite down on this … mhm yes just like that, you’re doing a great job.”

he’d definitely be like the annoying ones who still try to have a conversation while knuckles-deep prodding in your mouth. “i can tell you haven’t been flossing as much as you should be, what’s up with that?” and all you can do is narrow your eyes at him. he always caress your jaw and cheek too even through the latex gloves his touches are so intimate and gentle at the end of your appointment you’ll be genuinely considering if you should fuck your dentist or not.

☆ . . . i had multiple options for geto but firmly decided on a ceramic artist. i can envision him owning a modern yet whimsical pottery studio —he wanted the modern look but nanako and mimiko insist on the whimsical interior— he offers free beginner classes twice a month. omgg the way his hands knead at the clay and skillfully sculpts on the wheel with his fingers meticulously bending, making his veins more prominent while delicately morphing the creation into a vase. he annunciates his instructions with melodic calmness but still has authority present in his tone i swearrr his voice is like honey.

you catch his eye in one of his classes and offers extended hours free of charge to help you “better your form.” he sits behind you, cradling your forearms directing your movements but still making room for you to assist your own creation. his warm minted breath tickles the back of your neck causing goosebumps “make sure to sit close to the wheel and anchor your elbows tightly against your body…” the sultry in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed with him slightly moving to your ear next “don’t be afraid to make mistakes it’s all about trial and error, darling.”

☆ . . . like the unemployed bum toji is, he seems like the type of man to pride himself as a ‘jack of all trades.’ which is why i see him in the freelancer field of work, specifically, a personal shopper. he has an app on his phone where he can either accept or deny requests. he’s quite picky with commissions when money isn’t running low, but don’t get him wrong, he’s willing to go the extra mile to please his clients. always prefers phone calls over text when discussing farther details knowing his gruff voice will have the recipient weak in the knees. he isn’t shameful to treat his full time employment as a part time hookup arrangement…if he’s lucky enough that is.

“here’s your stuff, pretty.” the quite taller and muscular man at your porch hands over a brown bag containing your groceries. you don’t miss the way his hands graze yours in the exchange, his sharp eyes examine you like you’re his prey; awaiting for your next move in a game you involuntarily started playing. words of gratitude try to slither past your lips but ultimately couldn’t: you’ve officially peaked his interest. “hey, why don’t i help you unload your items?” at that, you nodded making way for the sleazy man to enter your home and eventually your bedroom as well.

☆ . . . what differentiates nanami from the rest is that he’s unaware of how insanely attractive his profession as a baker is. he truly doesn’t understand the appeal of a man in an apron kneading dough and decorating pink frilly cupcakes. he co-owns a bakery with haibara !! they even enrolled in culinary school together. the interior is quite morden with wisteria and other succulent plants hanging from the ceiling; most of the time he’s clueless to very clear advances from others or kindly shut them down saying how he’s “not looking for anything serious” which is a lie he himself started to believe.

but on a faithful sunday autumn morning you stroll in just salivating at the thought of warm dewy chocolate filled croissants, fresh from the oven, when you see him; clad in a bulky knitted cream sweater tying a black apron around his slim waist whilst his becipes bulged slightly through the thick material of the sweater. “good morning, what can i get for you today?” one thing lead to another making you leave with not only a croissant but the blond man’s phone number —due thanks to his cheeky younger coworker, yuji, who wrote the number on your receipt including a note that read: ‘he’s soooo into you :)’

reblogs & feedback is extremely appreciated !! <3

[un-lawliet]

“Fit For an Archon”

— in which the Hydro Archon is fascinated by you

a/n- happy pride month to all my wlw, i wrote this for us <3 im sorry for how long it is (gasp)

word count (7.1k)

You are the worst seamstress in Fontaine.

You’re sure of it.

Your hands seem to repel fabric, your needle poisoning the thread in which you clumsily stitch with and leaving you with a truly horrendous looking frock.

Chiori, bless her soul, had hired you as a a request from your Father, who, in Chiori’s defence, was a fantastic tailor, renowned for his intricate stitching and detailed attires- Truly a renaissance for Fontaine fashion.

And so when he left Chioris business, set to start his own amiss the bustling harbours of Liyue, you found yourself tucked away, working in his place for Chiori, who was currently frowning pensivly down at your work, as if it had personally offended her.

“…It’s bad isn’t it?” You state, looking intensely at your boss who chewed on her painted bottom lip, head cocked, wondering how in Tevat you were your Fathers daughter.

“It’s not…Awful” She tries, although not very well, her gaze fixed on the uneven stitching and the deplorable match of colour.

“Better than last time?” You question, a terrible sense of hope clouding your voice, hopeful that maybe, just maybe you were improving-

“No, no, definitely worse.” Chiori mutters, and your face falls.

She sticks a hand out and touches the skirt you had presented her with, lifting it up.

The seams fall and the skirt halves in her grasp, and you cringe silently, eyes closing in embarrassment.

“Hm.” She ponders, turning to stare at you from over her shoulder, an eyebrow raised.

“It’s…Meant to do that?” You try, shoulders raising in contention, only to be silenced again at the shake of her head.

“Take a break Y/N.” Chiori says, tired under attempts to support your terrible creations.

You don’t argue with her, immediately fleeing the boutique as if you were being hunted down by the God King Remus himself.

The bell on the door dings as you exit, waving goodbye to your co-workers who scoff at your exit, whispering words under their breath that you chose not to render.

You just needed to stick this job out until you had enough income to quit.

But- with the state of your designs and the even worse execution of said designs, you doubt you’d ever make enough to follow through with your intentions.

And really…You barely make ends meet as it is.

Oh God.

You kick a stone and watch as it skims across the tarmac, bouncing up and down until skidding to a stop metres before you.

You hate being a seamstress.

Making it to the manufactured river, you slump down, lazily throwing your legs off of the sides, your boots delicately touching the water surface below.

The same way they always did when Chiori sends you away.

How ridiculously boring.

Fontaine’s a-lot quieter in the evening, most people finding themselves at the Opera Epiclese to watch a spectacle, faces tinged red with excitement.

You prefer it when it’s quiet, when the streets are empty. It means you can lie backwards on the hard ground without too much judgement from your fellow citizens.

Your legs still bent down towards the water, with your back on the concrete dock, you allow yourself a breath.

You hear footsteps somewhere off to your right but pay them no mind. After all, passing judgement is only ever passing, and you’re sure whoever it is will waltz past you, giving you a confused once over before immediately forgetting your face.

You stretch one of your legs and break the surface of the river, feeling the tip of your boot soak up the water briefly, before you’re lifting it back out, shaking it gently to dry it off.

Someone cleared their throat behind you and you sign with the frustration of interrupted serenity.

Can you truly not have anything?

Pushing yourself up with your elbows, you turn your face the perpetrator, eyebrows drawn down to a frown.

You were gonna stare them out until they left you to mope at this stupid river, politeness be dammed!

.

.

.

It’s Focalors behind you.

Lady Furina.

Every retort resting on your tongue is swallowed up, getting stuck in the back of your throat and you choke on your words, chest heaving in shock.

The Hydro Archon stares down at you, watching your struggle, her arms crossed over her chest and a smug smile on her lips.

Her hair sways in the breeze, tickling her leg and she seems to be quite fascinated in the dress encasing your figure.

A long ruffly mess of colour and mesh with a corset that one would barely call fitting, you look like a run away mannequin, pathetically thrown together before your God.

“Lady Furina.” You wheeze, propelling yourself to your feet, dropping into a bow, your skirt following comically behind.

Why is she here? Is she not fond of the Opera house? Archons people wait half their lives to meet her and here you are face to face with God through pure circumstance.

She waves a gloved hand in your direction, dismissing your bow entirely, eyes still drawn to the fabric of your gown.

“Your..attire is quite interesting.” She states bluntly, walking two steps to the left to capture your dress from all angles.

Your face flushes, “Thank you Lady Furina, it’s an honour to be complimented by-”

“Were you supposed to be in the opera?” She cuts you off, turning her body in the general direction of the Epiclese.

“What?” You answer before finding your manners, “I mean n-no it’s my….” You sigh, shoulders slumping, “I’m a seamstress.”

Lady Furina pauses, her head lifting you look at your face, studying it with such precision that you feel yourself bite back the desire to look away.

“..A seamstress?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Oh.”

The pair of you look at each other for a moment before she throws her head back and laughs. It echoes around the empty streets of Fontaine and reverberates right into your ears.

“I suspected as much!” She guffaws, clapping her hands together.

You cock your head, confused, “No you didn’t?” You reply, unable to stop the offence in your voice.

Sure you weren’t good at your job but you liked this dress! And you were definitely not apart of any play!

Lady Furina’s laugh trails off and she stares at you, her lip between her teeth, holding back a grin.

“Tell me!” She begins again, and you shudder at the volume of her voice. “Why is it that you look so sad?”

“Huh?” You question, eyes widening in confusion.

Furina smiles, it brightens her face, before pointing at you then back to herself, “As your Archon it is my duty to right the wrongs of Fontaine, and you appeared so gloomy that I had no choice but to journey off my path to check up on you!”

Shame forces its way through your body and you shake your head, holding out your sweaty palms to face her, “Lady Furina you do not need to trouble yourself with my issues, trust me.” And you shiver against her unblinking gaze, “Please, continue on your way..” You awkwardly laugh, gesturing to the street, dying inside.

Furina blinks at you, “You don’t want to share problems for me?”

You take a step back, bashfully shaking your head, “I mean no offence…”

It’s awkward.

Furina tilts her head, studying you, confused.

She is far too use to Fontainians requesting her opinions on trivial matters so much so that the blatant avoidance from you is baffling.

You scratch the back of your hand in the silence.

Lady Furina watches you, dissecting you with her eyes, trying to go over every woe that past Fontainians had brought to her omnipresent ears.

You chuckle, trying to force her gaze off of you before you melt and join the water behind you.

“You’re not watching the play?” You say, gesturing in the general direction of the Epiclese, pleading silently for her to stop looking at you like that.

She shakes her head, closing her eyes, “I’ve seen it before, it gets quite tiresome seeing the same thing over and over again.”

Oh

“Oh”

Lady Furina grins, her opposing eyes still gracing your face as if you were so easy to figure out.

“Do you…Hate your job?”

You gawk at her.

She smirks.

Jack pot.

“I’m right aren’t I? You can save your praise, I know I’m truly otherworldly when it comes to intuition.” She fans her hand up and down at you, throwing her pretty head back dramatically.

“Must be a gift from Celestia then.” You conclude, turning away from her and sitting back down at your river side.

You’re slightly peeved at her reaction and would rather not disrespect an Archon so early in your life, so you do not face her with your glare.

“Come now.” Lady Furina says, strolling over to you, “I only joke.”

The Hydro Archon was now sitting beside you, kicking her feet in the water.

This truly cannot be real.

You sigh.

Well, if she’s asking, you may as well answer.

What’s another sinner to an Archon anyway.

“Do you ever feel trapped by the wishes of another?” You ask, defeat clouding your senses as you speak.

Lady Furina stills, but you do not notice.

“My Father, asked me to keep on his legacy in Fontaine, he’s a brilliant tailor, I mean, it’s like he was born to be one…”

You trail off, and splash your foot into the water, “And I just- I’m terrible at being a seamstress, I can’t even pretend to enjoy it because I am so utterly rubbish at it.”

She’s watching you, you can feel it. It’s as intense as your emotions, you almost shy away.

“Sorry.” You mutter, “I don’t know why I’m asking. It’s not like you have to struggle with these “mortal issues.”

You laugh bitterly in the silence of your confession.

Lady Furina’s hand slightly brushes yours and you wonder if she notices.

The pair of you sit quietly for a moment, your face growing warmer in the seconds.

You’re about to apologise again, your words on the tip of your tongue before she speaks, ripping the pages from your mouth.

“I always find it fascinating to hear how Mortals think.”

“Hm?”

“How they can voice their feelings so freely, it has always struck me.” Her voice is a lot quieter, you almost mistake her for someone else.

You glance, taking in the side of Lady Furina’s face, her soft features seem burdened, you hope silently that you were not the cause of her worries.

“An Archon admiring her subjects…” You say, slicing through the quiet, “That’s quite comforting actually.”

Lady Furina tilts her head, narrowing her dainty eyebrows quizzingly, “Pardon?”

You smile, and hope it reaches both your eyes and hers. “You care. It’s kind.”

She’s watching you again, her chest rising and falling in tandem to the gentle swish of the water.

You place an arm on your knee and rest you head in your palm, feeling bold.

“It must be lonely being a God.”

And her eyes grow wide, for a split second, before she’s blinking and resuming her facade of impassive control.

“What ever do you mean?”

“There’s no higher being to think about you.” You reply, introspection fluctuating in your words before it slaps you back into reality with a cold hand.

“Uh- Pardon me, I don’t mean to call you lonely I just-”

“It’s quite alright.” Lady Furina says, straightening up, her hair brushing your shoulder and her hand moving from yours. “You did not mean any harm.”

She moves to stand, and you watch, perplexed.

“You have the freedom to quit.” She says simply, “There is no higher deity forcing you to stay.” And she smiles, “All will be ok.”

She leaves as fast as she had arrived and you’re left alone to think.

Strange you think.

You hope you didn’t offend her.

—

When it’s not raining, the sun has a habit of overstaying her welcome.

It’s absolutely roasting in Fontaine, and so when Chiori asked if you would stay behind to finish your garment after work hours, you jumped at the opportunity to relish in the cool breeze of the back rooms.

Besides, you feel less embarrassed working by yourself, with nobody around to mock your gowns.

You flinch as you pierce the skin of your finger, watching as a maroon red slides into your palm.

You wipe it on your dress, it clashes with the colour.

“Do you always make a habit of wearing the most..peculiar garments?”

You jump, dropping your needle onto the sickly pink fabric, you wince as it falls, sure to be lost forever.

“L-Lady Furina?” You gasp, turning your body towards her, your dress swishing in your movement as you try pathetically bow your head in her exuberant presence.

“Yes “tis I.” She replies, her arms opening dramatically but her eyes stay focused on your choice of apparel. “Honestly.” She muses, “It’s no wonder they keep you back here…”

Lady Furina glances around your cluttered work room, taking in the flurry of vibrant coloured ribbons dripping out from their boxes, half finished corsets falling apart at their seams and the tatttered fabric unevenly pinned to a mannequin standing just inches away from her.

You step in-front of her, your eyes wide as you try conceal her vision of your failures, a sheepish grimace on your face.

“Um, we’re closed today, it’s only me in- uh how did you get inside-”

“I am the hydro archon.” Furina’s voice booms out, the exaggerated drawl making you cower away from her slightly, “I merely walked in.”

“I thought I had locked the door?” You questioned, taking a step back from her.

“A locked door is no enemy of mine!” She laughs, regarding you with a look oozing with pride, her chest puffed out and head raised.

“Right..” You mumble, picking at the skin on your fingers, nervously swaying back and fourth.

Your fingers are adorned with pricks from your needle, they would bleed should you continue your childish picking, yet you persist, unable to stop your absentminded jittering.

Lady Furina watches your movement, satisfaction appearing to glow in her eyes.

“Now!” She exclaims, wondering over to the only empty surface in the room, an old blue chair, faded with age.

“I need a new ribbon for my hat.” The chair creaks when Furina sits, crossing her legs and staring at you expectantly.

You think the chair isn’t even worthy enough for you to sit on, let alone the God Of Justice.

“I can..Write an order down for a ribbon for when Chiori returns?” Your voice trails off, thwarted by the dull look she regards you with at your suggestion.

“No, no, no!” Furina shakes her head, her actions reminding you of a child, “I want you to make it!”

“I beg you pardon?” Your eyes widen, and you glance around, taking in all your terrible, terrible works of fashion.

“Me?” You breathe, “Lady Furina, if I may- I clearly lack the talent to create anything, let alone something in which an archon should wear.” You hands shake slightly as she stares at you, willing yourself not to blink or look away in her ever present intensity. “You know this.”

“But I demanded it?” She cocks her head, reaching up to take her hat off, outstretching her arms to look at it intently.

Her hair falls down, it cascades down her shoulders like water and you hold yourself back from counting the waves between each strand, instead choosing to look away.

Ribbons are simple, you remind yourself.

You’re not entirely deficient in the art of fashion, you’re just…Well- you’re just you.

“So?” Furina says, her voices drags you from the inner monologue whispering in your ear, she pushes the hat in your direction, twirling it so you can view its simplicity from every angle.

Your clasp your hands together, head tilted like a dog.

“I’m thinking.. here.” Her finger rests on in the space between the crown and the brim, “A blue ribbon thats doesn’t blend in with the rest of the hat but adversely will not stand out…”

You nod, it’s curt, Furina smiles, it stretches her face and she all but glows, cheeks flushed.

“You’ll do it then?”

You scratch your arm, and sigh.

“It will look horrid.”

“It will look like it was made by you.” She replies, sweetly, her voice like the silk in which she adorned, you take a second to truly feel the implications behind her words and suddenly feel yourself become quite bashful.

Your heart ticks within your chest and like clockwork you reach your hands out for her hat, avoiding her gaze.

“A blue that doesn’t blend in but also doesn’t stand out?” Your voice is whispered, trying to act assertive but failing all the same.

“Indeed, a ribbon fit for an archon!” Furina appears to get louder the more she reminds you of her status, you cringe at her volume but turn so she does not see.

“I’ll try my best.” You hum, glancing at the box you pathetically labelled “Ribbons”.

You reach out and touch the cardboard confines, pulling it towards you and shuffling some fabric under your finger tips.

Red, yellow, green…the most hideous shade of pink ever- Dear God did you supply this?

Furina sits, twirling a strand of her hair as she watches you, taking in the chaos of your dress and your work space respectfully.

You really had such a unique flare to you.

Your dress was terribly put together, fabric seemingly falling off the skirt, which, in Furina’s opinion, was much too puffy for an average day at work.

When she leaned closer, she could see how the seams were pathetically stitched together, a bundled mess of experimentation that clearly did not work, the sheer fact she could see the stitching was enough of a sign to tell her that you had made this dress yourself.

Furina raises a hand to cover her the genuine smile that ripped across her features.

You truly were fascinating to observe.

“You chose to stay here then?”

You look back at her, a small frown on your face.

“Yea.” You say simply, “It’s just easier.”

She scoffs.

“What?” You reply, indignantly, “I’m still getting paid.”

“You’re staying for the money?”

“I’m staying to save up the money.” You retort, “As soon as I have enough I am gone, you’ll see.”

Furina laughs, you can help but feel melodic, almost sad.

You don’t know what else to do, so you smile, watching as Furina breaks eye contact immediately, coughing into her glove.

“I hope I do.” You hear her say, and you try to ignore the giddy sensation that seems to course through your veins and into your heart.

—

“Lady Furina what an i-interesting bow.”

“I know, I know! Isn’t it just fabulous.”

“It’s um rather…big?”

“Yes? Is there a problem?”

“N-no! I was merely voicing that-”

“If there is no issue then I must bid you farewell. I have a meeting with a most important diplomat, I assume you have already placed the pastries?”

“Yes Lady Furina…”

“Good.”

—

On days when you aren’t in the boutique, you write to your Father.

You write pages upon pages of frustrated scribbles, voicing your resentment of his craft and the comparison to your own, writing furiously about how much you wish to be freed from your job and allowed to travel with him to nations far and wide.

In the end you send none of it, opting instead to write false truths about how honoured you are to work in the darkest parts of his shadow, and how gracious you are for his talents.

You lick the envelope seal and pop it thru the post office window, smiling softly at the old lady behind the glass.

It’s raining in Fontaine today, dark clouds pulsing in the sky, above you, soaking the fabric of your skirt.

It always seems to rain after a trial.

You shake your head. Damn, you should have brought an umbrella.

When you pass by a group of children you hear their yells, pitiful pleads of; “Hydro dragon, hydro dragon don’t cry!���

And you smile and whisper it under your breath as you look to the sky.

Your thoughts circle back to Furina, you hadn’t seen her as much, especially not with the growing fears of the flood of Fontaine.

You wonder if it’s true, wonder how she’ll solve it.

You have faith in her, you think.

There’s no way you’ll drown before you can leave to travel.

There’s no way Fontaine’s Archon would let you all perish under the power of Hydro when she herself is the embodiment of the element.

You have faith.

—

There’s nothing you truly dread more than presentations to the Archon and her people.

And there’s nothing you hate more than how Champvallon, who was standing in for Chiori due to her endeavours in Inazuma, was currently mumbling under his breath at your choice of dress.

You had been running late, quite literally, the ends of your dress stained with dirt, dying the pale blue fabric brown and green.

“You’ll have to stand in the back girl.” He grumbled, his moustache dipping slightly into his mouth, pushing your shoulders and making you move behind your fellow seamstresses, grey eyes pinched into slits as he chastised you.

You heard one of your coworkers giggle from behind her hand, whispering to another about your ill fashioned garments matching your deplorable creations of fashion.

You bit your tongue and glanced at the wooden floor beneath you.

She isn’t wrong, you think, thank Celestia that your tailoring would never see the light of day.

Lady Furina and her entourage enter the room moments later, you think Furina appears to glow and wonder if your eyes are playing tricks on you, or if this is some strange phenomenon one achieves when becoming an archon.

You shake your head and join your party’s collective bow.

You and Furina had grown closer, although, the margin of closeness was confined between her passing by the boutique window and waving in when she saw you, smiling cheekily as she took in your plethora of dresses that just appeared to get more ridiculous with time.

You had begun to crave these moments of seeing her, positioning yourself closer to the window, as to ensure you did not miss her.

You don’t understand why.

Maybe you just liked to see her smile.

…“Lady Furina, we at Chioriya Boutique thank you for allowing us to present our garments for you today.” Champvallon declares. You cringe at his sickly sweet voice that deepens in tone as he continues his speech.

The man behind Lady Furina is Neuvillette, you’re sure of it. High and mighty, his stature as impressive as his title.

And under your breath you repeat the pronunciation of his name, dragging out the syllables from under your tongue.

Lady Furina allows a moment to pass before she prompts, “Ah yes! Only Fontaines best is suited for your justice party.”

The presentation from the boutique takes hours.

Furina catches your eye a few times, and smiles, it’s subtle enough that you almost believe it’s not aimed at you. Ignoring the flutter of your heart everytime her eyes meet your own.

The final designs are being brought out when suddenly you see a creation that makes your heart drop.

Sitting on a cushion, is a broach.

An ugly, bedazzled broach that you were sure you had thrown out.

And it was being carried over to the justice team by a worker who stares at it confused.

“And here we have a broach for the Archon herself.” Says Champvallon, who is still yet to turn his head to view your horrendous work.

You’re paralysed, hands shaking trying to think of a way you can remove the jewellery without causing a scene.

“We hope you adore it as much as we adored making-” Champvallons voice trails off and he looks at the cushion, his eyes widening as he finally see’s what he’s presenting.

You hear the party behind Furina collectively stop their idle chatter and stare.

Everyone looks.

Nobody says anything.

“And who is behind the creation of this…thing?”

You want to die. Truly.

Your heart is in your throat and feel sick, raising a trembling hand as you step forward, your eyes stuck to the ground.

You’re sweating, palms clammy as you take a breath, preparing to be fired in-front of Lady Furina and her circle. Shame appears to drip off your brow and onto the crevices of your cheeks.

“It was me Sir.” You mumble, your voice weak, “But it was an accident I swear!”

Looking towards Lady Furina, you bow your head, pleading silently for her forgiveness, “I never meant to offend.”

“You foolish, troublesome girl.” Hisses Champvallon, his eyes narrowed as he walks towards you.

You bite your lip, and apologise profusely although you know it will not matter.

“Lady Furina.” Champvallon says as he reaches your side, plastering an ugly smile on his furious face, concealing his bitter dissatisfaction.

“I will send someone immediately to retrieve your actual broach, please, hand that one over to one of the maids, I will dispose of it as soon as possible.”

“No need.” Lady Furina says, halting the conversation instantly with a raise of her glove covered hand.

She glances at the miserable looking broach and then towards you, you hold her gaze for a moment before she smiles, recognition flickering across her decorated eyes, finishing her examination of your face.

“I’d like to keep it.”

“Lady Furina?”

Holding the broach in her hands, she raises it to her face, almost as if fascinated by the shameful stitching and the odd colour scheme.

“Lady Furina.” Champvallon stutters, moving away from you, “Your kindness knows no bounds b-but surely you would prefer something a little more..well pleasing to the eye?”

You stare at the back of his head as he leaves your side, counting the freckles on his neck to steady yourself.

“It’s unique, it’s different, Fontainians are known for their eloquence, and I as the God of Hydro must always be challenging these trends.”

Furina peers over her hands to stare at your boss, a dainty eyebrow raised.

“You wouldn’t dare to challenge an Archons will, would you?”

Champvallon splutters, his face warming to a putrid red, his arms rising up as if pleading to surrender.

“N-No I merely thought that-”

“Then it is settled.” Lady Furina laughs, leaning back in her chair and glancing at you.

In your daze, you barely register the tiny wink she sends you way, eyes too focused on the way you broach was now sitting snug, amongst the fabric of her outfit.

It stuck out like a thorn grips the side of a rose and you grimace.

It was ugly, inarguably so.

Neuvillette clears his throat, eyes sweeping over your trembling figure.

“It was you who made this?” He ponders, head tilted slightly.

Your eyes snap to his, and you nod, it’s clumsy and awkward and you hate yourself.

“Um, yes your Honour, I made it.”

“It’s very interesting.” His voice is light, as if trying to filter out the tension pulling the conversation to a standstill, “The yellow and the pink are an unusual yet unique combination, very bright to the eye.”

You breathe out a small smile, as Lady Furina nods her head. “Yes, yes, indeed.”

“Thank you Monsieur Neuvillette, Lady Furina.”

You’re bowing again, chastising yourself for never taking the time to learn how to properly bow for an Archon, and then you’re leaving, hands still shaking, but head lifted just a little bit higher.

Furina doesn’t see you leave, too busy tracing the colours of her broach, smiling down at the terrible stitching as if it were weaved in silk and gold.

The presentation finishes with an awkward finality, with all eyes subconsciously darting down to look at your broach on Furina chest, wondering what in Fontaine their Archon was thinking.

—

You don’t know how, but Lady Furina had became a regular in your life now.

Always managing to catch your eye when you’re walking the streets of your home land.

Popping up randomly behind you just to greet you before leaving.

It appeared she worked in patterns, as if she was use to working by a routine.

You almost assume she appears there on purpose, it’s always far too convenient for it to be by chance.

“Y/N!” You hear one day, you’re sitting outside enjoying your lunch break as Lady Furina approaches you.

You hear a bustle and suddenly Fontainians are flodding the streets, clamouring over to her, crowding her.

You smile as she appears to soak up the attention, flaunting her hands in every direction, acknowledging everyone, one by one.

The people don’t seem to think about the prophecy when Focalor herself is before them, too busy trusting her with their lives to care.

You catch her gaze after a moment, and she puffs out her chest, as if trying to impress you.

Your heart aches.

You blink.

…That’s a strange feeling.

“Now now, my faithful subjects.” She begins, “I must take my leave now, I have very important business to attend to!”

You hear the groans of her people, as they beg her to stay, but reluctantly they remove themselves from her and walk away.

It’s just you and her now and she gestures for you to follow her.

You grow nervous, knowing there are watchers.

You hear them whisper behind their hands, hear them questioning why the “crazy girl from the boutique was the centre of the Hydro Archons attention.”

You cringe, but follow her anyway, your steps timid under eyes.

You think you’d follow her anywhere, but that could just be your adrenaline talking, your heart thumping within the confines of your chest.

“Lady Furina,” You say when you reach an empty alleyway, away from the eyes of Fontaine.

You pause, taking in the cracked bricks in the surrounding walls. “This is…Well- I’ll be honest it’s creepy.”

“Huh.” She says, turning to face you, “It’s more private no?”

“It’s a dark alleyway.” You deadpan.

Furina laughs, taking your hand in a wild moment of humour.

Dear God you hope you aren’t sweating.

“Never fear!” She declares, “As long as I’m here, nothing can harm you.”

Her words draw out a feeling that you don’t allow yourself to delve into, choosing instead let her hold your shaky hand without pulling away.

“I never got to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

You blush.

“For saving my career the other day.”

You see Furinas eyes move, as if trying to recall.

“Oh! The showing.”

You nod, “Thank you for…being so kind.”

You smile at her, and her eyes drops to your teeth in one fast, graceful motion before travelling back to your eyes.

“Always.” She replies, as if it was the simplest concept to her, like washing your hands or falling asleep.

Your face is on fire.

Gods your hands are definitely sweaty now.

Lady Furina shakes her head, as if pulling herself together.

“Now! I’m inviting you to tea.”

What.

“Sorry?”

“Tea. With me, together.”

“No, no I-I got that.”

She smiles, “So?”

“Why in Teyvat would you want to have tea with me?” You question, hope blooming in your chest, overpowering your habit of avoidance.

Furina stills, her face filled with confusion that you don’t get.

“You don’t want tea with me?” Shadows seem to cover her face, and you pull your hand from hers to frantically wave them in front of you.

“No no! Don’t misunderstand me! I’d love to, oh my God there’s nothing I’d enjoy more it’s just that-”

“Just that what?”

“You’re an archon?”

Furina frowns.

“What does that have to do with anything? I’m asking you to join me as a friend, not as an Archon.”

Oh.

Oh.

“Oh.”

You know of your less than extraordinary appearance, and the simplicity of your life. You know that imagining anything more with an Archon is a fantasy so baffling that it even embarrasses you.

But you still can’t fight the disappointment resonating in your chest at the stupid word “Friend”.

Furina doesn’t seem to notice your deflation, instead probing you for an answer. Her hand reaching up to hold your arm, tugging you closer to her.

There’s a hopeful, cheeky look in her eye that you think could persuade even the most hellish of Demons to stand down.

“Well? You’ll join me?”

You sigh, and try to throw on a smile.

You feel like a puppet, your grin has to be ugly, repulsive, even so, you maintain it with cracked continuity.

“Sure.”

—

What does one wear to a date visit with an Archon?

You hate everything you own.

You almost rip your nails off in frustration after the fourth attempt to dress yourself fails.

This is terrible, everything is terrible.

Archons why do you own such ugly clothes!

You hear a knock at your door, and you jump, lifting your head to see Chiori staring at you, her unwavering gaze filtered with confusion.

“Chiori?” You ask, trying to hide the mess of your room.

Or well, her room, saying you were technically leaching off of her house until you could save up enough money to move.

She raises an eyebrow, a silent question of your antics, and you sigh.

“I have nothing to wear.”

“Hm.” Chiori responds, her lip going between her teeth as she takes in the mess of your clothing.

“And since when do you care what you wear?”

You scoff, offended.

“I always care!”

“Right…”

—

You think Chiori was sent by Celestia.

No really, you do.

Especially now when you’re twirling infront of your mirror, admiring her artistry on your body.

“It’s beautiful Chirori.” You whisper, your finger tracing the delicate stitching, enamoured by the sheer amount of detail on your gown.

“It’s hardly my best.” She replies, batting your hand away to finish the seam, “But all my other work is being used for the Fashion festival.”

You grin.

“I get the leftovers then.” You say cheekily, daring to wink at her.

Chiori shakes her head, “You get what I feel is right for you, and this…” She gestures to your dress, “Does look beautiful on you.”

Thank you Celestia you repeat in your head, Thank you for finally giving me a break.

—

You meet Furina at the Palais Mermonia.

She spots you as you walk in, and beckons you to a room across the hall.

Tiny Melusines greet you, and you smile at them, reaching down to pat their little heads.

Furina stills as she takes you in, fully looking at you.

“You look different.” She states, and you stop your movements entirely.

“You’re dressed…” Furina trails off, and your face warms.

“Nicely?” You finish, a teasing smile on your lips, “For a change?”

She shakes her head.

“You always look nice, it’s just jarring to see you wear something so well fitting.”

Her eyes trail along your figure, and you flush, your mind unable to comprehend your compliment.

Furina suddenly pulls herself out of her trance and smiles, putting out a hand for you to take.

“Never-mind that now!” She beams, “Desert time! Come, come!”

And you’re alone with Furina, your hand in hers.

She leads you over to a table adorned with confectionery to last over a hundred life times.

“Do you drink tea? Or would you rather Fonta?” She asks, turning her head to glance at you, and you rip your eyes away from your conjoined hands.

“Uh, tea, tea is good.”

Lady Furina looks at you, her eyebrow raised, “Alright, sugar?”

“Huh!!?”

“Sugar? As in, do you want sugar?”

“Oh! Yes of course!”

You pause, and Furina continues to look at you.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Are you taking sugar?”

Dear God, how are you so pathetic?

“Yes please.” You say silently, embarrassment morphing your face, forcing your head to fall to look at the floor.

Furina sets your tea in front of you, before pulling a chair over to sit next to you.

She watches the way your body seems to shrink in on itself, you hand fiddling with the loose fabric of your gown.

You nervous, and Furina scowls.

She doesn’t like this.

“What’s going on hm?” She asks plainly, and you restrain yourself from jumping at her forwardness.

“I-I’m sorry?” You attempt to delay, taking a sip of your tea, burning your mouth.

“You seem..off.” Furina says, her voice slightly drawn out, a frown on her features. “Have I done something?”

“What? No! Absolutely not you haven’t done anything…” You stammer out, a fake laugh breaking the barriers of your teeth as you try to compose yourself.

“Then why-”

Your eyes dart around the table, choosing to make eye contact with the bread than with her.

“It’s just a lot like wow I’m having tea with a God!”

Furina stirs her tea slowly, her eyebrows furrowed.

“I thought we were past this?”

“Sorry?”

“You seeing me as a God?”

You blink, and Furina takes a sip of her tea.

“You..You are a God though, you’re my God?”

Furina thinks the tea turns sour in her mouth.

“Technically, I suppose so, but I believe us to be friends?” She sets her cup down, and looks at you, her cheeks slightly red. “Am I mistaken?”

You clamour to explain yourself, your arms reaching out as if trying to slow time, ignoring the painful tug of your heart at that stupid word again.

“N-No of course we’re friends!” You stammer, “It’s just…Well I-”

“Then there’s no reason for you to be nervous.”

You nod.

And then something happens.

Something switches.

And suddenly Furina isn’t merely looking at you,

She examining you.

“Unless.” She starts, and you feel a truly dreadful sinking feeling within your chest.

“Unless there’s..Something else bothering you?”

And every facial expression you display is analysed before you, every twitch of your eyebrow, the way your eyes widen and the way you seem to stop breathing.

Furina leans forward, an emotion so humanly desperate flickering across her face.

An emotion she is yet to understand.

Your lips part and you truly do not know what to say.

It’s foolish, to ever consider yourself worthy to share a reciprocated love with your God you remind yourself bitterly.

You’re confused, anguished, disheartened by her referral to you as a friend and yet, you do not know what to say.

So you clear your throat.

And breathe in.

“I do not know what you mean Lady Furina.” You whisper, and it’s wrong, wrong, wrong.

And Lady Furina waits only a sheer second, before she’s leaning back in her chair and raising her head.

Somethings off.

“Then let’s us drink together as friends.”

You could swear then, that Lady Furina looked human.

You would stand trial on the fact that you saw her deflate with disappointment in the most mortal like way. You’d swear an oath.

But then you blink and the Hydro Archon blinks back.

And you’re sure you were mistaken.

—

There’s rumours in Fontaine.

There’s rumours everywhere, this isn’t a new concept to you.

But this is different, this rumour makes your blood freeze in your veins.

You heard it after you walked home from the boutique, a group of local Poisson men whispering under their breath.

“Lady Furina isn’t Fontaine’s Archon.”

You pause, turning your head as subtly as you could, creeping closer as to listen to their words.

You’re not a silent stalker and so they see you immediately.

They glare at you as they leave and you’re left confused as they made their way back to Poisson.

The next you hear of them, they’re dead.

Dissolved in the rising water.

You throw up when you see their faces in the paper, along with the heading “Fontaine’s Archon Fails Her People.”

You have faith.

You have faith.

You have faith.

—

Your faith dies with your Archon on the day of her trial.

You don’t go, you never go to trials.

But you know the happenings as if you were there to witness.

You find yourself running towards the Opera Epiclese, tripping over your own feet when the words “Death Penalty” reach your ears.

It’s silent.

Oh so silent.

And then the rain starts, and the tides grow.

And you can’t make it to the staircase of the Epiclese due to the water filling your lungs.

You’re drowning.

Screaming out bubbles of prayers to an Archon that isn’t yours.

Betrayal wrecks through your body and you’re drowning.

You’re drowning.

You’re drowning.

You’re drowning.

—

Furina cries on her watery throne.

Mourning the loss of her people, her home, her facade.

She thinks of you, briefly, thinks of your face, your clothes, your eyes.

Letting herself smile gently, she allows her tears to wash away her role.

It was nice to play a God.

If only she could save them.

—

.

.

.

.

You’re nervous.

You keep pacing back and fourth, pathetically trying to figure out a way in which you can knock on the door of Furina’s house, and speak with her like humans.

After the flood, you found yourself bed bound, your lips tainted blue and breath engulfing you so vigorously that you coughed until your eyes stung red.

The man who saved you kissed your hand when you woke up, crying out that he thought you wouldn’t make it.

You smile at him and thank him.

“I owe you my life.” You had whispered.

Lady Furina was no longer Fontaines Archon.

Gone into a state like hiding from the public, terrified of their outrage.

The nurse that cared for you, informed you of as much, recounting how the Iudex Neuvillette had saved Fontaine, saved you.

And you cried when she left you, tucked up in a hospital bed, weeping over the unknown.

You can’t face her. You conclude.

Not because you didn’t want to but because you had absolutely no idea how to begin.

Would she still regard you with such kindness despite you knowing everything?

How do you convey how you feel for her, when you truly do not know who she even is?

You heart sinks to your stomach and you walk away, hands dropping to your sides. Forcing yourself to move on, and to let fate guide you as far away from Fontaine as it could lead.

You hear a door open, but don’t make the connection until you hear your name being called from behind.

“Y/N!”

You freeze, glancing over your shoulder timidly, staring towards the very God woman you had grown so fond of.

Staring at you humbly on her doorstep.

“Lady-Miss Furina.” You reply, your hands trembling and voice shaking, turning to face her fully.

Her cheeks were flushed as though she made her way to the door in a hurry, eyes narrowed and yet you could not see a trace of annoyance in the depths of her pupils.

“You-” She starts, breathless as if realising that her action of following you would lead to confrontation for the first time, “I saw you.” She pointed up to her arched windows and your face flushes, mortified.

Of course she had.

You say nothing, trying to think of an excuse, anything to dissipate the tension you feel in your bones.

“…You weren’t going to come in?” She questions, her voice small, unbefitting for a woman who use to bellow to the masses with the unfiltered confidence of a Deity.

And you stare, and stare and stare . Your eyes moving over her face, her attire, the stupid bow on her hat.

You’re utterly speechless, profoundly so.

Unable to say anything of value to the woman in which you swore that you-

Furina sighs, her shoulders dropping, hat slipping forward on her head.

Taking your silence for resentment, she accepts your unfettered anger as atonement for her sins.

“I see.” She mumbles plainly, turning to go back inside her house.

And it’s said with such bitter regret and vile disappointment that you find words spilling from the confines of your lips, desperate to call her back.

“I quit.” You frantically say, voice meek.

And Furina stops so you continue.

“Working for Chiori.” You clarify, taking a step forward.

The sun appears to intrude on your conversation, the early morning light presenting itself from behind the brazen buildings of Fontaine, eager to listen.

It makes her complexion golden, the blue strands of her hair, now short, appearing to glow in its wake.

Furina opens her mouth, then closes it, shaking her head defiantly before he’s facing you again, and you’re so close yet so far.

“I needed a change.” You whisper, and she appears to lean closer to hear you, to read the way the words fall from your lips.

You don’t know why this is the first thing you wish to discuss with Furina.

There’s countless other things you could spew, the mirage of questions you have resting in the back of your throat, the confused, recount of events, yet you chose to say none of it for sake of talking about yourself.

You’re selfish, perhaps cruel, but God you just wanted to talk to her.

Furina looks at you, her eyes wide, the sun catches the blue and draws out the sparkle as she looks at you. You drown.

“I’m…I’m glad.” She whispers, “You hated it there.”

“I did.”

You step towards her, keeping your hands still, resting at your sides limp.

“You-” You start, clearing your voice, terrified to overstep, “I mean- Did you hate being an Archon?”

Furina doesn’t move, her cheeks painted rouge with the mention of her role.

Then slowly, subtly, she nods, once up and once down. You almost miss it.

You smile, your eyes crinkling trying to express your endless empathy through one look.

“Then I’m glad you stepped down.”

And Furina wants to kiss you.

She feels it in her mortal soul, amid the beautifully soft way you voice your smile, the desire to be human with you and to make you hers.

She breathes and you watch.

“I’ll miss your silly clothes.” Furina sighs, and you giggle.

“I still wear my silly clothes.” You bite back, and she shakes her head before moving a finger along the underside of your jaw.

“You’re beautiful.” She says, and you take her role of silence, stunned.

Furina lifts her hand, and places it on your cheek, looking down avoiding your eye. “And so boundlessly fascinating.”

“I can’t quite explain it I just-”

You cut her off when you kiss her.

Breathing in her confession and replacing it with your own.

Two mortal souls intertwined as one on her doorstep.

She responds by pulling you closer, trailing her hand to the back of your head and smiling against your lips.

You’re not a seamstress and she’s not an Archon and yet, in this moment that’s okay.

Everything is okay.

feel free to leave a request!

Masterlist <3

artwork credits

A/N- when i say i have been wanting to write this for MONTHS i mean it- i am just so BOUNDLESSLY sick of wlw fics being fetishised and the lack of like a good wlw comfort fic in any character x reader was bothering me ! so thank u to anyone who gives this a try and reads it ! i appreciate you so so so much !!!

ALSO when i say the reader’s fashion is strange or unflattering I HAVE BEEN OBSESSED with insane 19th century dresses so i made a collection of outfits PSA when i say she (the readers) fashion is questionable I MEAN IT <3 i imagine my lovely little failed seamstress makes her own clothes from time to time bc although she’s not good at her job, she still enjoys being creative

if ur interested i made a post of her outfits here :)

thank u so so so much for reading i love u i love u i love u

[warabidakihime]

Rules and Roses Chapter 2

★ characters: kibutsuji muzan x reader x akaza

★ plot summary: Kibutsuji Muzan has finally decided to expand his empire, and the way he intends to do so is by running for the highest political position. With you, his darling wife, at his side, he believes he can achieve and have everything the world has to offer. He is, after all, the Phoenix of Phario.

★ fic playlist: sometimes, same day, as time stops, wolf’s song (this is also the vision board for the fic). 

★ content warnings : implied violence and abuse, profanities, toxic relationships, smut.

★ Previous Chapter

a/n:

hello!!!

first of all, i am so sorry for taking so long to update this story. ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

life happened and i got sooo busy. the time i uploaded this fic was when i just started at my new workplace and shortly after a few weeks, i was already preoccupied with work. at first, i was laser-focused on getting used to my new work and the culture. then later on, i found myself playing a more important role in the office that required my undivided attention lol. besides that, so many things happened in my personal life as well that i didn't have the time and energy to write.

btw i'm now a writer by profession as well so oftentimes i would feel drained af after writing corporate write-ups. tbh, i also got hit by writer's block, especially for this fic because the plot i have in mind for it is lowkey intricate, and for the most part, i haven't decided on what route i should take story-wise. so during those 2 years, i was constantly trying to reconstruct the story in my head, and here we are!

i'm back but i'm not so sure about updating regularly as i'm still incredibly busy, but i will do my best! the latest kny seasons inspired me to write again (aka my crush for muzan lol).

hopefully, everyone is still here to read this. ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

as always, comments and kudos are highly appreciated!

happy reading!

-

"Can you outline your key policy platforms should you be elected President of Phario? Given your extensive background in the human resource industry as well as your rich connections owing to your business ventures in Obelisk Kibutsuji, do you first plan to address the pressing issue of the national unemployment rate?"

"Indeed, that's correct. As President, one of my top priorities will be to strengthen our nation's workforce, which is crucial for advancing our economy. I have a comprehensive plan focused on job creation, vocational training, and support for small businesses. These initiatives will not only reduce unemployment but also stimulate innovation and competitiveness within our economy.

I also aim to implement policies that ensure equal access to education, equipping our citizens with the skills needed for the evolving job market. Healthcare reform is high on my agenda. I'll ensure healthcare assistance is accessible to everyone, public hospitals are well-maintained, and healthcare workers are fairly compensated and protected by the state in any dire situations. Additionally, I'll push for technological advancements and infrastructure development to attract both local and foreign investments.

Addressing social issues is equally important, and as a devoted ally of these communities, I'm committed to fighting all forms of discrimination, especially against women and the LGBTQ+ community. We must ensure everyone, regardless of gender, sexual orientation, or identity, has equal opportunities and protections under the law.

Moreover, I'll advocate for the rights and welfare of people with disabilities, ensuring they have access to the necessary resources and support to lead fulfilling lives. This includes improving accessibility in public spaces and promoting inclusive employment practices.

Animal welfare will also be a significant focus. We need to enact and enforce laws that protect animals from abuse and ensure humane treatment.

Lastly, I'll champion the rights of minorities and immigrants. Our nation is built on the strength of its diversity, and it's imperative we create an inclusive society where everyone feels valued and respected. This includes reforming immigration policies to be fair and humane and implementing programs that support the integration and empowerment of minority communities.

In essence, my administration will be dedicated to creating a sustainable and inclusive economic environment where every Pharian has the opportunity to thrive and contribute to our nation's progress."

Muzan stood confidently at the podium, a modest yet proud smile gracing his face after addressing a journalist's question amidst a room bustling with media personnel.

Today was the day where presidential candidates shared their platforms, which also served as an open forum for engaging with the press and fielding inquiries on a wide array of topics—from current events to personal matters.

With his seasoned composure before cameras and crowds, Muzan navigated the spotlight effortlessly. His articulate delivery drew admiration from all corners as he outlined his plans for the presidency, filling you with pride as you watched from the audience.

Among the attendees, your smile beamed with pride and unconditional support for him. Akaza, who is sitting right beside you, maintained a stoic demeanor outwardly, though inwardly, he couldn't deny a hint of impressed regard. Muzan's comprehensive platform and commanding presence left an undeniable impact on him.

Eloquence had always been Muzan's forte, a skill honed through years of being a businessman and somewhat of a public figure, as among his peers and in the business landscape in general, he is well-revered and widely celebrated.

Beyond his ability to articulate ideas, he possessed a magnetic charisma—an invaluable trait for navigating the intricate world of politics and public service.

Several hours later, the policy speech slash press conference finally ended, and now you were on your way to meet up with Muzan at the lobby of the hotel where the gathering was held when a few journalists spotted you among the sea of people who were also exiting the function room.

Akaza was right behind you and is also on full alert, an important instruction your husband told him when he appointed him as your personal bodyguard a few years back. Committed to his duty, he stood there in a stance where he is ready to take action should anything happen that is out of the ordinary.

Mics were stretched out and placed within just a few inches of your face, and one of them took the liberty to ask you a question: "What are your thoughts on Kibutsuji Muzan's campaign platforms?” 

Very much like your husband, you also wore a modest yet confident smile on your face as you held eye contact with the journalist who asked you that question before displaying your own version of eloquence as you answered,

"To say that I am proud while listening to him share and advocate for the causes he wholeheartedly believed in would be the biggest understatement of the decade," you said with a fond chuckle before continuing, "even before he filed for his candidacy and even way before he became the man we all know now, he has always been outspoken about these things. He would always share with me his desire of making significant changes in the world, hoping no more children would have to endure what he did. As many of you know, Muzan, my dear husband, came from very humble beginnings, and unlike me, he has faced challenges far beyond my own. His vision and intuition surpass that of most, and so, as cliché as it may sound, his words and strong convictions carry a weight and authenticity that are strong enough to enable him in doing the impossible and inspire others to believe that a better future is within our grasp."

Akaza listened intently to your answer, finding himself captivated by your words. The way you addressed the press made you sound like a candidate yourself who's also sharing her platform. In that moment, he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming surge of pride as he continued to absorb your statements.

The journalists surrounding you mirrored his sentiment, clearly impressed by your response—no surprise from the esteemed Ballerina Queen of Phario.

It had been quite some time since you last entertained interviews, having retired and chosen to stay away from public engagements.

"Among the plethora of initiatives he wishes to take action on once he's elected, what resonated with you the most?"

You paused, contemplating the list of campaigns your husband had presented earlier. Just as you were about to respond, an arm encircled your waist and gave it a tender squeeze.

It was Muzan.

"Knowing my wife's love for animals, I'm certain she's most excited about what I have planned for animal welfare," Muzan interjected warmly.

You playfully rolled your eyes, eliciting amusement from not only your husband and your respective bodyguards but also the press. "You say that as if it's a bad thing," you quipped.

Muzan chuckled fondly. "Not at all, my love. Your passion for animals is one of the many reasons I fell for you."

The same journalist who had asked you the second question now directed his attention to Muzan, eager for his response. "Based on the most recent public survey, you're likely the most favored candidate to win the elections. What can you say about that, Sir Kibutsuji?"

Muzan smiled bashfully at the reporter, his eyes reflecting a mix of humility and determination. "I'm incredibly honored and thankful that our fellow countrymen have placed such faith and confidence in me. It's a humbling reminder of the trust they have in our vision for a brighter future. This campaign has always been about bringing real change to Phario, addressing the pressing issues our nation faces with innovative solutions and inclusive policies. The support we're seeing reflects not just my efforts, but the collective desire of our people for progress and unity."

He paused briefly, his gaze sweeping across the room, before continuing with renewed conviction, "Though I would like to emphasize that I don't take this trust lightly, it actually fuels my commitment to serve with integrity and purpose, to listen to the voices of every Pharian, and to lead with compassion and foresight."

By now, the press was highly satisfied with the answers both of you had given, granting you the freedom to depart. Clearly spent after the eventful day, you exchanged farewells and well-wishes before going your separate ways.

With Muzan's arm still draped around your waist, he guided you towards the grand entrance of the hotel. Meanwhile, Akaza made his way to the basement parking lot to retrieve your car, preparing to drive you both home. Kokushibo remained close to Muzan, ensuring your security as you awaited the car's arrival.

Turning to Muzan, unfazed by the bustling activity around you, you placed a tender kiss on his lips, smiling warmly. "Great job out there, my love. You did so well today. I'm incredibly proud of you."

Clearly elated, Muzan mirrored your smile and returned your affection with a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Thank you, darling. Your support means everything to me."

"Truly, I was beaming throughout your speech. You were absolutely amazing. Phario is fortunate to have such an admirable leader like you," you praised sincerely.

Right there and then, Muzan couldn't help but raise his eyebrow and playfully smile at you, prompting a confused raise of your own eyebrow.

"What's that look for?" you asked.

Muzan shook his head with a playful smirk before replying, "You're not showing favoritism now, are you, my love? I know you adore me, but let's keep it fair, hmm?" he teased, his tone light-hearted and affectionate.

You rolled your eyes at his playful accusation. "Ha-ha. Very funny, Muzan. I'll take it back, then."

Muzan laughed wholeheartedly, drawing attention once again. "I was just joking!" He then smiled warmly at you, his eyes reflecting pride. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "Hearing that from you means more than any applause, you know?"

You reached out to pinch his cheeks. "You play too much sometimes, you know?" you said with a chuckle before continuing, "But like I said, hearing you speak today—and in all those times you shared your aspirations with me from when we were students up to now, as you finally have the opportunity to make all come true—it's evident how deeply committed you are. Beyond your skills and capabilities, your passion is what makes you so compelling, Muzan. It's what makes me believe in you, too."

Minutes later, while waiting by the entrance, Akaza finally pulled up with the car. You and Muzan bid farewell to those around you before stepping into the comfort of your vehicle.

As the city lights blurred past the windows, you reflected on the day's events.

"You know," you began, glancing at Muzan beside you, "I have a feeling your speech today touched more hearts than just mine."

Muzan smiled softly, intertwining his fingers with yours. 

"I hope so. Though the election is still months away, and who knows how things might shift, that's why I don't want to take any of this for granted. I'm in this for the long haul. You'll be there with me, won't you?"

He looked over to you, and in that moment, despite his big words, he looked absolutely adorable, with his ruby eyes shining at you and his lips slightly pouty as he waited for your response, which you gladly provided through the means of placing yet another sweet and passionate kiss on his lips and squeezing his hand reassuringly. 

"I'll always be here for you, Muzan, through every challenge and triumph."

"I love you," he whispered lovingly, his expression sincere and heartfelt.

"And I love you," you replied with equal affection.

With a comforting squeeze of your hand, you nestled against Muzan's shoulder, feeling a sense of contentment as the car navigated through familiar streets towards home.

Meanwhile, in the driver's seat, Akaza's face remained unreadable. He was outwardly indifferent to the tender exchange between you and Muzan, but inwardly, he was seething with rage.

You think you're so clever, spouting all those promises and pretty words, playing the saint for the public eye. But I see through you. You're nothing but a manipulative snake, a liar wrapped in a facade of righteousness.

His gaze hardened and his grip on the wheel tightened as he stared ahead, the streetlights casting shadows on his determined expression.

One day, your mask will slip. 

I will fucking rip it off your face, even if it's the last thing I do.

[nicksbestie]

i love your work sm! can you write a johnnie fic where he had a long day and the reader is cuddling with him and telling him how proud they are of him. i just feel like johnnie needs to hear it ���🏼 thank you!!

thank you SO SO SO much!! i absolutely can <3 I loved this prompt!!

my reqs are now closed but please come chat about jake and johnnie with me whenever!!

Tired

warnings : mentions of mental health and negativity, feelings of depression and sadness

word count : 811

pairing : johnnie guilbert/reader (romantic)

enjoy!!! <3

Content creation could take a lot out of a person, especially when they were already struggling with their mental health. Despite the fact that it could be more flexible than a more average job, it can still provide the same, if not more, amounts of stress. Once you start a career like that, especially when it gains following and attention, you have a large internet presence, and people on the internet can be so incredibly cruel. People are more confident than ever when they are hiding behind the safety of a screen, unlikely to be revealed, and that shows in any career with a majorly online platform. 

This wasn’t to say that there weren’t a lot of positives to having a more internet focused career, like the flexible hours, and sometimes the pay is even better than any other job, if your following is big enough. And most of the time, the positives are enough to keep you going through the negative portions. However, sometimes those negative portions feel like they’re going to be the end of your career. Johnnie had been growing a large internet presence for years now, and had seen or gone through just about everything there was to see or go through. But that didn’t mean that it affected him any less, and sometimes, the fact that he had seen it before caused it to affect him more. 

Today was one of those bad days, where the negative parts had gotten to be way too much. You weren’t aware of this quite yet, due to the fact that you weren’t home yet. You were on the way home, and had no idea that Johnnie’s work day had not gone as planned. His stream had ended abruptly, you knew that, and way before it was scheduled to end, but you had chalked it up to some technical mishap or something of the sort, as that difficulty did happen every once in a while. It wasn’t often, but you knew that it wouldn’t be too out of the norm, and it wouldn’t have raised many alarm bells with his fanbase. So, you weren’t worried at all, thinking you had no reason to be as you pulled into your garage, walking into the house and calling out that you were home. 

You did become a little confused when you got no response. Johnnie always called back to you, regardless of whether he was working or not. You always came home at nearly exactly the same time, and he knew that, so whatever he had or was playing, he always had the volume down low enough so he could hear when you came in and began talking to him. Due to this, you went looking for him, gently knocking on his bedroom door when you realized it was locked. He had a key above his bedroom door, in case of any emergency, but you would never open it without his permission. You respected his privacy, and because of that, you spoke through the door, asking if he, or you, could open the door. 

Once you received his affirmation that you could open it, you reached up to grab the key from the top of the doorway, and easily unlocked the door. Walking in, your heart felt like it was breaking. The room was as dark as possible, the shades on the windows closed tightly, no lights on, not even his monitors. Your boyfriend was nearly invisible, seemingly attempting to hide under his blankets, his back to you, completely ignoring the fact that you had just walked in. You sat down on the side of the bed, softly pulling the covers back and resting a hand on his shoulder. 

“Baby, what’s going on?” 

He didn’t turn to look at you, simply shrugging. 

“Nothing. I’m fine.” 

You stayed silent for a minute, laying down next to him and throwing the covers back over you both. 

“You’re clearly not fine. But if you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to. Do you want a hug?” 

He immediately turned over, letting you wrap your arms around him, and your heart broke into even more pieces when you saw the tear tracks staining his makeup free cheeks. He hid his face once he realized that you had noticed how it looked, refusing to speak, and just letting you hold him. You had absolutely no problems staying there as long as he needed you to be there, and it ended up being a couple of hours. You were hugging him, reminding him that he was loved, and that you were proud of him. You were sure that he would be back to his normal self soon, but you were more than happy to help him carry the emotional weight while he was struggling. After all, that’s what you do for the people you love.

[schrodingerscougar]

It took Simon some time to learn how to deal with your “job”. He had a hard time accepting that being an influencer paid well enough to live a comfortable life; promoting products brought you a lot of money, and there was a company that chose you to be their ambassador.

It was a hotel chain that was present all around the world, so you were paid to go to exotic places to just chill and make some videos and photos. You even put it in your contract to give you the chance to take a plus one with you, so whenever Simon was home, he could travel with you.

He knew many men were following you for your beauty, some probably drooling over your photos and regularly jerking off to the thought of having you. It did bother him, but as long as they kept their distance, he tried to understand it. It was something out of your control.

At the beginning you posted as if you were still single, but then things turned serious and you wanted to share photos of the two of you. “You know it's impossible because of my job, love,” he told you, causing you to think of a solution.

What he was willing to agree to were photos you took of parts of his body. Hands, back, or his bare, tattooless arm. He was very clear about his tattoos being a taboo as they could easily be recognized. The last thing he wanted was an enemy putting the pieces together and targeting you to get to him.

Your most successful post became the photo of your engagement ring. People went crazy, either because they were happy for you or because they were jealous of the lucky bastard who would marry you. The haters didn't bother you, but Simon wasn't happy to see some assholes harass you.

“Simon, it's okay. They're desperate trolls who probably live a miserable life. I knew people like this would be a part of this life,” you once explained while the two of you were sitting on the couch next to each other.

He leaned over to give you a soft kiss. “Let's get out of the city, away from everyone. Just the two of us. Come on, let's go off the grid for a week,” he suggested.

Smiling, you rested your head on his shoulder and took his hand. Simon didn't want you to stop doing what you loved, he just wanted to teach you how to take a break every once in a while. When you agreed, he was truly proud of himself. One week away from constant content creation.

[spenceragnewfics]

spencer shower sex!?

I hope you all enjoy! Love ya💕

SPLISH SPLASH | Spencer Agnew x F!Reader | 18 MINORS DNI!!

TW: Oral (f receiving), penetration, usual smut stuff.

Word Count: 1.9k

Description: After a very long and stressful shooting week, Y/N needs a little stress relief and luckily her boyfriend, Spencer, knows just how to help.

Working at Smosh is one of the best things someone could do. The people, work, and fans are all amazing but it’s also very stressful.

The company is huge! So it’s obvious that it would come with stress but some people don’t seem to understand that. They think it’s all just fun times and chillness because you work at a content creation company.

As the main PA for the gaming channel, Y/N is a very busy person. She’s always running around getting things for shoots, lunch orders, helping the cast and crew when they run into things, and many other things.

This is a role she has had for a few years and loves it. She loves being able to meet new people, be creative, and hang out with an amazing crew. Plus, she gets to spend everyday with the love of her life, and boss, Spencer.

The two got together before he became the director of the channel but got to work even more together when he was promoted two years ago. So if anyone knows how draining the job of PA can be, it’s Spencer.

Who is currently watching his girlfriend help Chanse and Angela figure out the rules of the latest new game for Board AF. “So, you just have to be quick and clear…right?” Angela asks, confusion in her eyes. 

“Basically, it’s a lot easier to understand as you play. Which, I’m so sorry you two weren’t at the practice game but you know how last minute cast changes work.” She says, smiling softly at the two.

Usually, when there is a new game to be played on the gaming channel the cast, who are going to be playing the game, sit with her, Spencer, and Alex T to learn the game. Well it was originally supposed to be Shayne, Courtney, Tommy, and Arasha but Tommy and Arasha had different things come up so Chanse and Angela were pulled in.

“I think my problem is, the overall concept is a little weird.” Chanse explains, unintentionally making Y/N die on the inside. She’s been explaining the game for 20 minutes but they still can’t seem to understand.

Noticing her distress, Spencer walks over, putting a hand on her waist. “Hey, honey, how about you go take a little walk and get a snack. I’ll try and see if I can crack them.” He suggests, squeezing her waist in a comforting manner as she looks at him sad.

“Are you sure, because I can keep-”

“I’m sure, now go before I make you.” He kisses her cheek, sending her off the set as Chanse and Angela shout apologies.

Pushing open the set doors, Y/N takes a deep breath as she starts her walk to her desk. She smiles at people she passes by on her short walk until she gets to the gaming pod. Her desk is across from Spencer’s, and under it is a little mini fridge. She opens it grabbing the leftover iced coffee she put in there from the morning and some random snack she had.

She sighs as she sits at her desk, laying her head on it. She doesn’t understand what is making her so stressed lately but she's starting to get annoyed with it. Her phone buzzes as she lifts her head up, reading the text from her boyfriend. She’s needed back on set so they can film.

Walking back to the set, she sighs when she gets to the doors then puts on her best fake smile. “Who’s excited to shoot?” She asks, walking in and grabbing her stuff. The cast cheers as she walks over to stand beside Spencer, he puts an arm around her waist and kisses her temple. “Are you okay?” He whispers, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” He can tell the smile is fake but decides to ignore it for now.

The shoot goes well and without a hitch except for the usual silliness that happens in a gaming video, but that’s what makes the shoots so fun.

Once the shoot is finished, Y/N helps get things cleaned up when Angela walks over, “Hey, Y/N.” Looking over her shoulder, she smiles at the woman, “What’s up, Ang?”

“I just want to apologize for earlier.” Angela says, her face sullen. “What? What are you apologizing for? Don’t worry about it, sweets.” She assures the girl in front of her. Placing a hand on her shoulder, “It’s just been a very long shoot week, and things have been crazy lately. It’s not your fault or Chanse’s, be sure to tell him that because I can see his sad puppy dog eyes from here.” The two laugh and Angela gives her a hug before walking away.

Not too long after, Spencer walks over as Y/N sits on the new couch, her eyes closed as she tries to enjoy some quiet time. He sits next to her and she lays her head on his lap. “What’s wrong, my little kickstart?” Y/N giggles at the nicknames before opening her eyes and looking at his blue ones. “It’s just been a very long week and I’m super tired.” She looks at him with a pouty expression that brings a loving smile to his face.

“How about we head out early? The only thing we have left today is to do some editing but we can do that at home.” He leans closer to her face, “After we have some fun of course.” He whispers, a cunning smirk on his face that perks Y/N up a bit.

“Oh really? You think we can work that into the schedule?” She jokes and he rolls his eyes, “Come on, let’s go home.” Y/N slides off the couch and follows Spencer, holding his hand as the two get ready to leave.

Once the two get to their shared apartment, Spencer pulls Y/N in for a kiss as the door closes. The kiss is gentle and sweet, something that makes her heart feel warm. He pulls back after a moment, “Go get in the shower, take some time to yourself.”

“Aw, you don’t wanna join me?” She asks, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Do you want me to join you?” He asks, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want you to.” She teases before giving him a quick peck and walking to the bathroom.

Spencer waits until the shower turns on to follow her in, he takes his clothes off as he walks so that way he can go straight in. The bathroom is starting to get steamy when he walks in and the curtain is closed, hiding his girlfriend from his sight.

He moves the curtain to the side, his eyes are met with the beautiful sight of his girlfriend’s naked body. Stepping in the shower, he closes the curtain and wraps his arms around Y/N’s waist, giving her shoulder a gentle kiss.

“Took you long enough.” Y/N says, turning around so that her front is against his. “I thought you could wait just a bit longer.” He teases before leaning in to kiss her. His lips move gently against her as his hands roam her body, they move smoothly against her wet skin as she tangles her hands in his hair.

Moving a hand down, he slips it between her thighs and rubs her clit gently. Pulling back slightly, breaking the kiss, she moans at the feeling, a little of tension finally being released.

“Don’t tease me, you know I need this.” She practically whines as his hand continues to rub. “Just calm down, babe, you deserve this.” He says before gently pushing her against the shower wall and getting on his knees. “Legs on my shoulders, my little kickstart.” Y/N giggles as she does what he says. Her sounds quickly change to soft sighs as he kisses her inner thighs.

“Spence, what are you-” Her voice stops as he starts to suck on her inner thigh, using the same motion as he does when he’s leaving a hickey on her neck. “Need to make sure whenever you wear shorts people know you’re mine.” He says when he gets done with the hickey on her thigh.

Not wasting a second, his head moves to her core and a long strip up her slit brings out a long moan. Her hand finds placement in his hair as he works magic on her. The two have been together so long they know how the other ticks, what makes them feel best and how to get them to feel fuzzy.

His lips find place on her clit which makes her eyes roll back. He groans when her hand grips his hair, sending vibrations onto her clit, making her moan his name. 

“Spence, please, I need you, now!” She whines, pulling his head away from her. His beard is glistening along with his lip and his eyes are looking at her innocently. “Please.” She begs and it’s enough for him to give in.

Carefully putting her legs back on the ground, Spencer gets up and spins her around. Spitting on his hand, he gives his dick a few strokes before sliding inside Y/N. His hips start slow as he grabs her hair and pulls her against him, “Fuck, baby.” She moans, the feeling of him going in and out hitting just the spot she’s needed for days.

“You like that? Finally being able to feel what you’ve wanted for days?” He whispers in her ear, his thrusts slowly becoming faster. “Yes, yes, yes. Spencer! Yes!” She moans, laying her head against his shoulder, giving him perfect access to kiss her neck.

“Don’t hold back, please.” She begs, needing more as she feels the stress slowly melt away. “Anything for you.” He says before speeding up his thrusts, the sound of wet skin hitting skin resonates in the bathroom along with their moans and groans of pleasure. 

Sneaking a hand down, he rubs her clit with the same pace of his thrusts. The feeling of being full and the pressure on her clit starts to make Y/N’s brain feel fuzzy. A feeling that Spencer has been the only to make her feel. She feels him smirking as her legs start to shake from the feeling.

He moans as she tightens around him, making him see stars for a second. “Fuck, I love when you do that.” he groans into her neck as he continues his thrusts. 

It doesn’t take much longer for the both of them to get close. His thrusts start to get sloppy as she starts tightening around him more and more. His hand speeds up on her clit as he nibbles on the sensitive part of her neck, “Spencer! I’m coming!” She screams as the knot in her stomach pops.

“Just like that baby, just let go.” He coos in her ear, holding her against him as her legs shake even more from the feeling. “I’m gonna come too.” He moans as he pulls out. Stroking his dick fast, he has it position on her ass as he moans out her name, releasing on the plump area.

A few moments pass as the couple comes down from their highs. Shaky breaths, water falling on them, and the two holding onto each other. Y/N turns to look at Spencer with a sheepish smile, “You know, for only one ball you do cum a lot.” She jokes with a small laugh. “Eh, you gotta compensate where you can, dude.” He says while chuckling before kissing her sweetly.

Resting their foreheads on each other, they take a moment to just enjoy being together. “How about we clean up and then go cuddle and watch a movie?” She asks, rubbing his arms. “That sounds perfect.” He agrees before kissing her forehead. Both of them feeling much more relaxed than before.

[thoughtsonkm]

Jeju pt.1 in a nutshell

(more than that, I just love this pretty aesthetic shot)

The vibe was definitely different because logically two people (especially jm&jk) are gonna behave differently than a three person group. Just a matter of numbers, synergies and the need to deliver a specific product to the audience. Nonetheless it was so entertaining to me. I realize I kinda missed these three together sharing 2 braincells (1 for jimin and 1 for tae&jk). The first two episodes were so chill and they felt like they almost had a lowkey underground vibe as if they were in their own bubble away from everyone just living life in their little part of the world accompanied by a moody scene and dim lights while this episode was like a action packed manic episode, so bright so cheerful with childlike wonder. I'm glad they can still have fun together and always enjoy the moment.

Plus let's be honest jikook are gonna jikook no matter the place, time and people around.

Some of the funniest parts of the ep to me were: The contrast of Jimin yapping about Aewol and Tae&Jk eating like there's no tomorrow. The drive through ordeal. The perfect comedic scenario of Jimin chasing Tae to make him eat like it was the last thing he would do.

Favourite reaction meme/face of the day. The betrayal, the suspense, the drama.

LOOK at this little bean stopping and collecting Jimin's 1930 shoes and going after his shenanigans like the dependable banryeo he is 😭 (remember back in 2019 when jimin called jk that and everyone went crazy and rolled with it for MONTHS? Good times)

~

On another note it's actually very interesting how you can feel and see how in every second Jimin tries to be in control of the situation and always on top of everything, every angle and every concern. He also always looks so deep in thoughts during these episodes, it's like he's given himself the task to be the artist, entertainer, manager,producer and everything all at once in this show. I'm sure it also has to do with his own personality and being someone who looks at every minor detail, a perfectionist who tries to curate everyone and everything.

~

The way Jk's life flashed before his eyes when he saw blood on Jimin's lips ~ so fuckin cute

And after Jimin's lip incident happened, Jungkook could not stop licking his own lips for the rest of the episode and probably day, I see you

THAT scene was so thought inducing, so ao3 ff coded it was insane. Just Jk silently staring at a dazzling and sleeping jimin in the ground. 37292 scenarios could've been played and then.. just walked away to take a shower (⁠ ͡⁠°⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ͡⁠°⁠)

Not okay seriously! The concern, the adoration, the yearning.

Blaming Jk for his actions was never an option. LOOK AT HIM

I LOVE the constant little comedic improvs Jikook do together, they're so fun!! You can tell that it's part of their usual daily thing (it's actually smth i also do with my friends and it always gets hysterical)

~

The idea that they went on a private trip to Jeju in August and then went again for the show in September, fills me with joy. Love that they had the opportunity. Seems like they keep on going to the same locations twice, just so they can get that full experience with each other.

~

I kid you not, this is one of my top3 fav things they do together. JIMINSSIII - JUNGKOOKSSIII

The editing being almost backwards and all over the place really is a little off-putting sometimes, jarring even. Not keeping events in a chronological order is sus on it's own, like they're scraping for footage at this point..

And yes it is also kinda bothering me that it's been years and years of content creation and they still can't do a good job at translating and coordinating what everyone says, is it really that hard? is it??

Imma put her on blast just out of pettiness 😆

[all-about-kyu]

Summary: Both being in the NSFW content creation sphere, you and Yunho find a mutually beneficial piece of content to film. Pairing: NSFW Audio Creator!Yunho x Only Fans Creator!reader Tropes: Adult Content creator au, friends with benefits au Genre: smut Rating: R 18+ Warnings: language, the reader is smaller than Yunho by a good amount Smut Warnings: recorded sex, blindfolding, auralism, protected sex, implications of a hand kink, use of the name “daddy”, pet names, nipple play, clitoral stimulation, ripping clothing Word Count: 2,416 Host Tag: @sanjoongie @thelargefrye February Filth Masterlist Before You Interact

Listen to ♡ Often by The Weekend

“You’re sure you’re not going to get kidnapped?” Yeri checks for the tenth time.

“I’m sure!” You laugh, “This isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve talked with him before, too, several times. You know Yunho and I are friends.”

Yeri’s jaw falls to the floor. You meet her eyes through your mirror after you finish fixing your makeup. You look at her as if you’ve just said the most mundane sentence in the world. On the other hand, she looks as if you just told her you’re not actually who you told her you are.

“You mean to tell me–”

“I haven’t fucked him. Not in the literal sense, at least.” You explain, “We’ve fucked around in DMs before a few times but nothing in person yet. We’re genuinely friends, too, it’s not just about our jobs. He’s seen me. I’ve seen him. We’re both being safe. Now go back to your own apartment unless you want to witness something you probably don’t want to.”

She shakes her head and scrunches her nose. You laugh at her action and start walking her toward your front door. You start to pull your door open to let her out when she starts to sound like a broken record.

“Seriously, if you think he might–”

She’s cut off by someone clearing their throat. She turns around, and you look up. He’s right in the doorway, looking devastatingly handsome. Yeri buttons her lip and slips past him. You bid her goodbye as she’s already halfway to the elevator.

“Come on in.” You smile at the tall man, moving to let him in.

“It’s nice to see you in person finally.” He smiles

You nod, mouth suddenly dry, “I hope it wasn’t too bad of a trip here.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “It was actually really nice. It’s beautiful out.”

You’ve been friends online for a while now, and this sudden awkward tension is almost suffocating. Yunho smiles at you and takes your hand in his. You look at your connected hands before looking back up to his face. You’ve seen him before in pictures you exchanged in the past. Some of them are more distracting than others. Seeing him in person seems to create a whole new level of devastation for your panties and your heart at the same time.

He drops your hand and leans against a bookshelf at the edge of your entryway. He’s nearly the same height as it. You need a stool to reach the top shelf of it. Now you take in just how tall he is. You knew he was tall. Knowing a fact versus seeing it is so different. You already know his cock is big too. You’ve been blessed to see it several times. Your mind starts to wander to your activities planned for the afternoon.

“You okay?” Yunho’s eyes fill with concern, “If you don’t want to do anything, we don’t have to. We can just hang out.”

“No, no,” you chuckle, “I just forgot how… big you are…” You admit.

Yunho smirks as he leans over you while leaning against the bookshelves. You gulp at the sight.

“Did you, sweetheart?”

Fuck.

Your mouth goes dry again, trying to find a proper response. You knew damn well what the plan was walking into today. Both of you had planned out the entire scene in depth to ensure safety and quality content for your followers. Hearing his voice, seeing that stupidly hot smirk, everything about him renders you speechless.

“Sweetheart?” He calls again, “You still with me?”

You nod, “Just… thinking…”

“About?” He leans in close enough that you can feel his breath against your lips.

“We have a bit of content to film, and–” You stop yourself and stare at his lips for a moment.

“And?” He questions.

Your gaze stays fixated on his lips, “And… I fucking need you right now.”

Yunho doesn’t waste a moment closing the gap between you. The way he pulls you tight against him, combined with the heat of the kiss, makes your knees buckle. You stand there for a while, just kissing him. Your neck hurts a bit from stretching up to reach him, though you’re sure he is hurting more from craning down. By the time you pull away, your lips are puffy and wet with spit. His aren’t in much better condition; he has a bit of your lipgloss smeared near his own lips.

“Is your camera all set up?” He asks, his voice slightly raspier than earlier.

“Mm,” you hum, “You’re okay with your face being on camera?”

“We already talked about that.” He reminds you, “It’s okay. My face isn’t fully a secret to my audience.”

You take his hand in yours again and guide him toward your room. As you had told him before, your camera is already set up in front of your bed. You reach over and press record before you even say another word to him. As much as you’d love to get wrecked by him now, you know the goal is to get content. Your high-quality microphone is already connected and tested to ensure it gets the best recording it can. After all, it’s not just being uploaded to your Only Fans. The audio from today is being edited and uploaded to Yunho’s NSFW audio subscription as well. Short free clips are going to be posted on both of your Twitter accounts in addition to helping with the traction. Before you get in the view of the camera, you slip your shorts off from under your oversized T-shirt. Per the agreed-upon scene, you’re playing the role of his pretty little stay-at-home girlfriend and won’t be needing pants if you’re at home all day.

“You ready, princess?”

You know he’s put on his acting, but he still searches for any uncertainty in your eyes.

“I’m ready, Daddy.” you respond, voice sweet and needy.

Despite neither of you truly having a daddy kink, you both agreed to that title for Yunho to both protect his identity and play into the content you both know people want. You sit on the side of your bed and look up at him with wide, faux-innocent eyes. Yunho hums and leans down to cage you against the bed. One hand slips back a bit to grab a silk tie just behind you. He pulls it off of the bed and leans back a bit to hold it between you.

“We’re gonna play a little game, okay?”

You nod, “Will I get to feel you?”

“Oh, sweetheart, you’ll feel me. You just won’t see a damn thing.”

Yunho leans forward again and kisses you sloppily. The wet sounds of your kiss are enough to make you rub your thighs together. He, of course, notices it and grips your thigh with his other hand. Massaging the flesh, he pushes your oversized shirt up to expose your soaked panties. He guides you back further until you’re nearly laid down. He drops the tie just long enough to pull the shirt off of your body. You’re only left in your panties while he’s fully clothed. That doesn’t last long, though. He pulls his own shirt off. You appreciate his toned body and end up fixated on the noticeable bulge under his sweats. You gulp before meeting his eyes again.

“Can’t I suck you off for a bit? I wanna be a good girl for you.”

Yunho gives you an endearing smile, holding your chin in his hand, “That’s so sweet of you, baby. As much as Daddy would love that, I have other plans for us today. I’m gonna blindfold you now, okay? You know our cues.”

“Colors, if I can speak. If not, two taps for a break and three for a full stop.”

He kisses you again, “That’s my girl.”

It’s for the camera, you know that. Still, it doesn’t stop you from nearly melting at the praise. He takes the black silk tie and carefully secures it around your head, checking to make sure it’s not too loose or tight. You feel him guide you to lie down on your bed and push your thighs apart to be flat across the bed as well. Every sound sounds so vivid. The soft sound of his hands moving across the bedding, the gentle sounds of his breath by your ear, even the light creaking of your bed as he puts his full body weight on it. A gasp escapes your lips as he leaves more wet kisses along your throat. The noises he makes as he kisses you while letting his hands wander are enough to make your panties even more soaked than they previously were.

“You’re so jumpy, baby.” He chuckles, “Relax, let me make you feel good.”

“Daddy,” you whine, bucking your hips when his hand trails along your inner thigh.

“Yes, princess?”

You gasp when his kisses reach your chest, “Need–” 

You let out a broken whine when he wraps his lips around one of your nipples. His fingers lightly trail up and down your thighs, intentionally skipping over the place you need him most. Each time you buck your hips toward his touch, he lightly nips at your chest. The lack of vision only heightens your other senses more. Each time he so much as grazes your body, you jolt in reaction. Each word he says and each noise he makes sends you into another plane of existence.

You feel his body pull away from you, leaving behind a waft of his addictive scent. You feel as he pulls your panties to the side and strokes through your folds. The squelching sounds that come from your lower lips are loud. Each rub against your clit, each time his pretty, long fingers push into you, you feel yourself crave him more. He fucks you on his fingers for a while. His thumb presses perfectly against your clit while two of his other fingers thrust in and out of you at a pace that makes you see stars. His unoccupied hand holds one of your thighs down. His fingers dig into your skin in a way that may leave bruises, not that you mind at all.

“You hear that, sweetheart? You’re so fucking wet. What’s got you such a wreck? Hmm?”

“Daddy, I– fuck! Everything, it’s everything!”

“Everything? It’s how you keep whining and moaning while I finger your pretty little pussy, the way I’m speaking to you, the fact that you can’t see a damn thing. You’re at my mercy, sweetheart.”

You want to close your thighs so badly due to the amount of pleasure you’re feeling. A light slap on your thigh stops your action. A moment later, Yunho pulls his fingers from inside you, and you feel his weight lift off of the bed. The sound of foil ripping fills the space, followed by a low, growly groan. Though you can’t see it, you know Yunho kept his promise to put a condom on.

“Daddy,” your voice wavers with uncertainty.

You feel his hand rest against your waist, “It’s okay, princess. Daddy didn’t leave you all alone. I’m right here.”

The small gesture of reassurance makes your heart flutter for a brief moment. You feel the bed sink again and feel his bare skin against yours. He places a sweet kiss against your lips and whispers a quick check-in.

“You want Daddy to fuck you now?”

“Please, want Daddy’s cock, please.” You whine.

You feel the head of his cock rubs through your folds a few times before pushing in. Your panties are still pushed to the side, though they aren’t terribly in the way. Yunho continues to shower you with filthy comments and praises. Your hands fly forward and feel their way to his hair. Pulling him forward more, you pull him into another sloppy kiss. His thrusts are loud, and the squelching sound of your pussy is louder than it was with just his fingers. Your moans are muffled slightly by his kisses, but still, they’re loud. The fact that you can’t see anything makes it hard to know exactly what is happening.

“Wanna see you.” You request.

“My princess wants to see me now? I thought you liked not knowing what’s coming.” He teases.

“I- I do, but I wanna see Daddy now. Please?”

Yunho gives a particularly punctuated thrust, “Alright, princess, pick up your head a little, and I’ll take it off.”

You do as he says, and light floods your field of view a split second later. It takes a few moments for your eyes to adjust to the light. Once they do, you’re met with the sight of Yunho above you, sat up straight on his knees as he thrusts into you. He has a heated, lust-driven look in his eyes that brings you closer to your orgasm.

“Are you attached to these panties, baby?”

You shake your head at his question. A moment later, the telltale sign of clothing ripping fills the room. You break eye contact for a moment to see that he ripped the seat of your panties and was seconds away from ripping the waistband, too. Yunho smirked at you and leaned in close to your ear.

“I’ll buy you a new pair later, or I’ll pay for you to get some new ones.”

“Daddy, wanna– gonna–”

You’re not on Earth anymore. Your mind is so far gone, lost in the obsession you’ve discovered you have with his voice and the filthy, debauched noises being created in the space. In all honesty, you didn’t even process what he just said to you. All you can think about is the fact that you’re mere moments from your orgasm.

“Pretty baby wants to cum?” He asks, gripping onto your now bare hips.

“Please,” small tears form in your eyes, “Please, please!”

Yunho smirks at you again, “Cum.”

Your orgasm rips through you, stronger than anything you’ve ever felt before. Yunho’s thrusts grow stronger and faster. As you ride out your high, he reaches his own. He releases his load into the condom with a loud groan. His eyebrows furrowed together while his eyes remain locked on your own. You both start to fall from cloud nine around the same moment. Yunho leans down to hover above you and places a small kiss against your collarbone.

“You did such a good job, pretty girl. I’m so proud of you.”

That last comment wasn’t for the camera. That was specifically for you.

COPYRIGHT STARLITMARK 2024© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — reposting/modifying any fic or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations are not permitted. 

Networks: @cultofdionysusnet @kwritersworld @k-vanity

Tag List: @bratty-tingz @yeosangiess @minjaeluver @abbietwilight @wooyoungmybelovedhusband

[pascaloverx]

NO LIGHT

SUMMARY: Your life is simple. You are a pastry chef who has just opened a bakery near your home. A new life, being a new person. But when James Barnes shows up at your bakery injured, asking you to offer him shelter, your life takes a sudden turn.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The characters in this fanfiction are not my creation and all belong to the Marvel universe. This story will feature scenes of violence, brief intense intimate moments, and inappropriate language. To the readers, I wish you a good read and ask that you engage with the fanfiction if you like it. Do not interact with this fanfiction if you are underage. Enjoy reading. This chapter contains violence and sexual content.

FIVE SEVEN

SIX (+18)

A few days later, after several visits to the hospital pretending to be Steve Rogers' wife, he is finally being discharged today. His recovery has been remarkable; he no longer needs support for his arm, only a brace. Naturally, you came to pick him up from the hospital, ready for your last performance as his wife and to return his car that you've been using. Sure, you have your own car, but it doesn’t quite compare to Steve’s. As soon as you walk into the hospital, you spot your fake husband bidding farewell to the medical staff.

"My beautiful wife, light of my life. Come and thank these wonderful people with me for the excellent job they did taking care of my arm and ensuring I’ll never have financial stability again," Steve says playfully, as he bids farewell to a group of nurses escorting him to the hospital entrance. You laugh as you approach him, and he pulls you into an embrace. You nestle gently against his chest, placing his arm around your shoulder so he can lean on you for support.

"Your husband is a very kind man, we’re going to miss him; he has some great stories," one of the nurses says, sounding quite interested in Steve. You smile faintly, imagining the nonsense Steve must have shared while he was either drugged or simply bored.

"He really is great at telling stories. Thank you all for taking such good care of him, I don’t know what I’d do without my precious husband," you say, placing a lingering kiss on Rogers' cheek. He looks into your eyes, as if you were a forbidden fruit he longed to taste. After the goodbyes, you both head to the parking lot.

"Where did you leave your car?" Steve asks, his arm somehow still draped around you. You smile a bit sheepishly and point to his car, just ahead of where you stand.

"As your wife, I had to borrow something personal of yours, you know, to make it seem real," you explain, trying to justify yourself as you watch Steve pull away and rush to his car, checking it over to ensure everything’s intact.

"No one would’ve known that your car belongs exclusively to you, my dear fake wife. But since there’s no damage, I’m glad you enjoyed it. Now hand over the keys," Steve says confidently, as if he's ready to drive. But you shake your head, denying him the keys.

"The doctor said yesterday that you need to rest your arm for the next few days, and that’s why I came to pick you up—to take you home. After this, I suggest you call a ride service, a taxi, or use public transport," you say, opening the passenger door for him. He gives you a reluctant look, clearly displeased with not driving. Yet something in your fierce gaze and impatient grunt convinces Steve to get into the car, and soon enough, feeling victorious, you get in as well. In no time, you’re driving toward Steve’s house.

"My house is nearby. You must be wondering how I'm already living in a place, considering I just got back to the city," Steve says, fidgeting with his fingers, his voice a little slurred as if still under the influence of painkillers. "I'm staying in Bucky's old place. He's probably furious that he can't go back there—it would’ve made a good hideout. Maybe that's why he shot me. Or maybe it was Natasha's idea." He mumbles some of his words, and you try to keep a neutral expression, knowing full well that he’s aware it was either one of them who shot him.

"How do you know it was one of them? It could've been anyone. And if you don’t mind me asking, who is Natasha?" Your award-worthy performance of feigned ignorance seems almost convincing even to yourself. You watch as Steve stops fiddling with his fingers—despite the brace—and looks at you, as if carefully considering his response. He lets out a heavy sigh before speaking.

"As for the shot, you already know. Even when I’m not all here, I can still tell when you're lying. But Natasha... she was Bucky’s partner before he started working with the wrong people. They had a pretty close partnership, you could say. It was the first time in years I thought Bucky could actually have a healthy relationship with someone. They loved avoiding unnecessary emotions, obsessed with fieldwork, and even today, they’re both still great marksmen."

Steve pauses, his frustration palpable, and continues, "Their partnership ended when Bucky took on an undercover mission that was too dangerous for Romanoff. She didn’t want to lose herself in the disguise. I’m betting he ran straight to her for help, and that pisses me off. He could’ve come to me—I would’ve helped him. Now it’s my job to bring him in for questioning." His frustration boils over as he bangs his braced arm against the car's dashboard, letting out a grunt. You can’t quite tell if it’s the pain or the possibility of a scratch on the car that bothers him more. As he speaks, you finally start piecing together the puzzle of Barnes' past life and who Natasha is to him, though only on a surface level.

"Surely he must have had a good reason for not reaching out to you. As for him being your possible shooter, it seems foolish to believe there's any justification for him to have put your well-being at risk. Maybe he’s no longer your best friend; perhaps he’s just a reckless man." You speak, carefully holding back your true thoughts. This might be the perfect moment to reveal everything you know to Steve Rogers, to make it clear that you’re aware of much more than you let on. But you can’t bring yourself to do it. You feel like a pathetic fool, unwilling to risk your crush being put in jeopardy.

"You two had a fight while I was in the hospital, didn’t you? Your words are so sincere; you must really believe Bucky is an idiot for shooting me. Well, know that he isn’t. The shot was practically perfect, it didn’t do much damage. He’s just trying to keep me away. But he’s not a cruel or reckless man." Steve says, looking at you as if searching for a reaction that confirms his suspicions. You park the car in front of the address Steve gave you and lean closer after unbuckling your seatbelt, then do the same for him.

"Mr. Rogers, understand once and for all that your friend and I have nothing. Why would a man with such a dangerous life want anything to do with a mere bakery owner? It doesn’t make sense. But I hope things get clarified between you two soon. Now let me help you to your house, and then we’ll part ways and never see each other again," you say, locking eyes with him as you undo his seatbelt.

Steve's face, which was almost smiling, turns serious. "I want another date; our last one was definitely interrupted." He leans in slightly closer, your faces mere inches apart. You’re taken by surprise, trying to fathom what Steve could possibly want from you now.

"Let's get inside your house quickly; the painkillers must be talking for you. In case you don't remember, your only interest in me is to know about your Bucky, nothing to do with wanting my company," you say firmly, noticing him staring at your lips as he contemplates his response.

"That was before you saved my life. Now my interest in you is personal. I promise to try not to expose your lies on this second date. How about I pick you up in a week when my doctor says I can start putting effort into my arm again?" Steve replies, a hint of determination in his eyes.

"You just said that whoever shot you didn't intend to kill you, Mr. Rogers. I merely took you to a hospital," you say as you exit the car, then open the passenger door and lean toward him. "And I don't understand the need for your arm's recovery. Now, put your arm around my neck, and let's go inside; it's getting cold out here." It really is getting colder since you left the hospital. He leans on you, remaining silent, likely fearing that you might let go if you get annoyed or uncomfortable with something he says. It’s only when you both enter his house with some difficulty, and you lay him down on his large, comfortable sofa, that he grabs your hand before you can step away.

“I need my good arm to be free so I can give you all the fun and pleasure a real date with me could offer. Give me that chance, and I promise I won’t bother you again,” Steve says, smiling as he looks up at you.

You contemplate his face for a few moments, considering whether you truly want to go on a date with Steve. Gently, you caress his hand before moving it away from your arm.

"Next week, make that proposal to me again—with your arm fully recovered. Let’s see what my answer will be then. For now, I'm going home. Take care of yourself, Mr. Rogers," you say as you watch him give you a victorious smile. Before leaving Steve’s house, you place his car keys on the kitchen counter.

As you hear him shout a "See you next week," you take a rideshare back to your apartment, eager to rest. However, upon arriving at your door, a sense of alertness washes over you. Given the recent events, you had decided to keep a can of pepper spray in your bag for self-defense. If some thug were to try to rummage through your things or rob you, they would certainly regret it. Without hesitation, you slowly open the door and spray pepper spray at the first figure you see in front of you. Barnes lets out a grunt of pain, murmuring "fuck, fuck, fuck" repeatedly as he covers his eyes.

“What the hell do you think you're doing? This stuff got in my eyes!” Barnes growls, writhing as he tries to rub the pepper spray out. Without hesitation, you rush to the kitchen, grabbing cold water and a cloth.

“Hold still, I’m trying to help,” you say, but he pulls back sharply, resisting your touch. Your patience snaps. Pushing him against the counter, you press your body firmly against his, taking control of the situation. You pull his hands away from his face with swift determination and begin gently wiping his eyes with the cold, damp cloth. As you carefully clean the remaining spray, his tense frame finally stills, allowing you to tend to him without further protest.

"Apparently, you must have suffered some kind of brain damage if you think trying to shoot me compares to me simply defending myself from an intruder. We're nowhere near being even, Barnes." You place the cloth down on the kitchen counter and turn to take in your apartment. Bucky had brought a bouquet of roses, most likely as a peace offering.

"I missed having you around, even when it feels like you want to hit me," Barnes says, his gaze fixed on you. You immediately turn to face him. You so dearly wish to trust his words, but lately, it seems as though he’s been toying with you.

"There’s no need to come at me with your charm, trying to use me again. I have no intention of continuing to be manipulated by you," you say with firm resolve, attempting to distance yourself from Bucky, though you don’t truly wish to. Yet, he pulls you closer, pressing you against the kitchen counter before lifting you onto it. He positions himself before you, standing between your legs. You lock eyes, both wearing expressions of seriousness.

"As if much evidence were needed to reach that conclusion. You hid in my restaurant because you had likely already noticed my little crush on you. Then, you must have used me to provoke your partner, with whom you had a relationship—so much so that she thought it necessary to nearly shoot me. And finally, you are using me to distract Steve. It's all clear now: I’m just a simple woman you decided to manipulate because I’m naïve enough." You spill your conclusions, struggling to contain the sadness welling within you. He shakes his head as if to deny everything, his body language betraying his discomfort under the weight of your accusations.

"You must think I’m a monster. If you believe I’m manipulating you because you’re an easy target, you’re sorely mistaken. You simply fail to see what’s right in front of you," he says, running a hand through his hair as if trying to calm himself. He is clearly irritated, yet there is a hint of sadness in his expression. "The day we met, you asked me how my day was going. I told you I was having a tough day. You said everything could be fixed with a cup of coffee and then handed me one. I sipped your bitter coffee and told you it was delicious. Do you know why? Your eyes—they told me you were worth the effort of pretending to enjoy it. I don’t live near your bakery; I was there while working undercover, and even then, I used my real last name because I didn’t want to lie to you. I fought against the urge to ask you out for months because I knew I would have to deceive you. But I returned almost every day to your bakery because I wanted to see you. To drink your bitter coffee and taste your new recipes. Because seeing you made me feel normal," he confesses, his face just inches from yours. For a moment, you feel a pang of guilt, realizing you may have crossed a line.

"I want to say that I don’t trust a word of what you’ve said, but the truth is, even if you’re using me, there’s nothing I can do to stop it. And if my accusations have offended you, I apologize. It’s just that you’re not sincere with me. You didn’t tell me about Natasha, and I…" You pause, contemplating your next words. Should you admit that you feel somewhat jealous? Or that you’re considering accepting a date with his best friend? At this moment, everything feels so confusing to you.

"You’ve drawn your own conclusions. I don’t blame you, but I can’t reveal more than what you already know. So, in the end, you’re right to conclude that I’m using you. What other justification could there be for all of this, right?" Bucky’s expression and tone reflect a certain weight, a gravity that hangs in the air. It’s amusing how you find yourselves engaged in this relationship discussion that doesn’t truly exist, all while so close to one another. He continues to occupy the space between your legs, positioned right beside your body, as if holding you in place. The question remains: do you want him to step back?

"If that is all you have to say, then you had best leave," you reply, unsettled by the casual way he speaks, as though he isn’t erecting a wall between you. Yet, instead of stepping away, he draws closer, a tension growing between you that had not fully existed before. His hands gently cup your face, and you close your eyes, trying your best not to give in just yet.

"Do you truly want me to leave?" Barnes asks, his fingers brushing over your cheeks, then tracing your lips. You open your eyes to meet his gaze—those blue eyes, the most beautiful you’ve ever seen, fixed intently on you. You shake your head no, still watching him, unable to look away.

"I want you to want me. But nothing suggests that we’ll cast aside reason and embrace this mutual attraction," you say softly, as though too shy to openly admit your desire for him.

"To hell with reason," Barnes replies, pulling you toward him. His lips, possessive, devour yours as though he were savoring your taste. You return the kiss, urging Barnes to press even closer to you. Your hands explore his body while he holds your face, deepening the kiss with fervor. Your hands trail down Barnes' back, when you reach his rear, you squeeze his ass. He lets out a drawn-out moan near your ear as he starts to reach for the opening in your pants. With impressive agility he manages to help you take off your pants while holding you closer to him.

"Fuck me on the couch, Barnes. I want a reminder of you every time that I sit on it," you say with your mouth still pressed against his. He immediately picks you up, carrying you to your couch. You let out a little laugh, as if you were getting nervous but at the same time excited. Which was true, she'd wanted to have this moment with him for so long her mind was almost exploding. Barnes leans you against the edge of the couch as if he wants to support you there to continue where you left off. You reach for the hem of his shirt, ripping it off his body immediately. He's definitely as ripped as you'd expect him to be. Gently, you begin to kiss his belly, from bottom to top. When you kiss near his neck, he holds your face; pulling you in for a kiss. A slow kiss, as your tongues find each other's rhythm. He only breaks the kiss when he realizes that you still have a lot of clothes on.

"I hope to make you have a pleasant memory of our time together," he kisses your neck as he removes the rest of his clothes and yours. When he lowers the strap of your bra, he places small kisses on your shoulder. While with one hand he opened the clasp of your bra, as it fell to the floor, he massaged your breast. His cold fingers made contact with the tip of her breast, pulling it lightly. Then he ended up grabbing the other breast while massaging the other. His warm tongue sucking your left breast while his cold fingers pinched your right breast. Between your moans and his grunts, you were being deliciously explored by Barnes.

"I want your cock, Bucky. Inside me, fucking me; I want to feel you," you say almost as if you were pleading. The smug smile Barnes gives you makes you almost regret what you said.

"Your wish is my command," Barnes says, stopping whatever he was doing and spreading your legs, positioning himself at the entrance to your pussy. "Tell me how much you need me, Y/N. Tell me what you want from me," Barnes whispers as he teases you by lightly thrusting his cock into your pussy. His fingers stimulating your entrance too, massaging your pussy that is already wet, by the feeling of almost having his dick there.

"I've wanted you since I laid eyes on you, I want to feel you deep inside me," you say almost as a mumble. Your fingers scratch Barnes's six-pack, making him let out a groan. His eyes light up the moment he looks at you and finally, he penetrates you. His cock is completely inside you almost as if it were throbbing with pure lust. You let out a loud sigh, grabbing his bare ass with your hands. You help him with the movements, while he thrusts into you. The feeling of grabbing his ass while he puts his dick in you, it's almost divine. Your moans increase with each thrust of his, as you feel an explosion of pleasure take over you. At this moment it doesn't matter that your ass is hurting a little, that your back is in a almost uncomfortable position. The pleasure of being fucked by James Barnes is far greater than any momentary discomfort.

"Hold on to me, princess. My body is yours to do with as you please," Bucky speaks and you grab his neck, scratching him as you feel your orgasm form as Barnes continues to thrust his cock into you. As if he notices that you are about to cum, he starts thrusting more slowly, as if he wants to prolong the moment. You hold him close to you, nibbling on his ear and then kissing him. Finally you both come, almost in sync. You melt in his arms, not feeling strong enough to pull away from him.

"How about we take a bath together and then we can go to bed?" Bucky says while you don't even have the strength to answer him.You just nod your head and let him carry you to the bathroom.

You wake up in bed, uncertain whether what happened on the sofa was reality or merely a figment of your desire. Yet, your body confirms that you and Barnes truly slept together. But the other side of the bed is empty—he left while you were still asleep. Perhaps it’s for the best; this way, you won’t foster false hopes. Maybe it will hurt less if you pretend it was just a dream. You rise, though standing proves a bit difficult, and upon seeing the time, you rush to open the bakery. After a refreshing shower, you slip into a loose dress, tie up your hair, and hurry out to open your bakery.

But something feels off—you sense that someone is following you. Perhaps it's paranoia, yet the feeling lingers. Just before grabbing the keys to open the bakery, you turn around. It turns out you weren’t paranoid after all. A strange man, wearing a cap and dark sunglasses, stands right behind you. He pulls a knife and thrusts it into your stomach. The force of the blow causes you to stagger slightly as you lock eyes with him.

"Tell Barnes he can’t hide forever. Tell him Alexander Pierce sends his regards," the man sneers, twisting the knife deeper. "Hail, Hydra!" he exclaims before yanking the blade out of you and running off.

It feels as though your world has stopped, your life flashing before your eyes. All the times you wanted something but let it slip away, all the moments you couldn’t be who you were meant to be. The mistakes made, the victories earned. Your eyes grow heavy as you clutch the wound, feeling your blood spilling from you. Then, through the haze, you see a figure rushing toward you, and you recognize him instantly. A weak smile forms on your lips.

"I knew you'd be my hero," you whisper, as the strong arm of the man holds you steady. "Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you," is all you hear before you lose consciousness.

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

Hi there! As a new fic writer, I was wondering if you had any writing advice (in general), but especially for writing dead dove. Do you have any advice on how to make your writing impactful and more emotionally devastating (lol)?

I’ve always thought writing that hits a reader so hard that it effects them emotionally—as if they’re a part of the story themselves—are some of the best written (and my personal favorites to read).

Thanks so much!

the most important and effective advice in general that I can give anybody when it comes to writing, is that ‘practice makes perfect’.

however, it’s also important to note that I am by no means saying my writing is ‘perfect’ — because you (general you) stop learning and improving your skills the second you believe what you’re doing has already reached the point where it’s ‘perfect’, and that’s where it becomes a problem. there’s a difference between being proud of yourself and your work (which you should always be) and thinking that your work is already ‘perfect’. 

so what I’m saying is; as long as you’re willing to keep learning, you will only keep getting better. always practicing, always learning.

your first ever work may not be as satisfying as you want it to be, and that is okay. looking back, the first ever fic I wrote almost 8 years ago would not be satisfying if I wrote it recently — considering how my writing style has changed, as I’ve found (still am continuing to find) what represents myself best in my works, and how I’ve learned and improved my skills — but that fic was still my creation and I still am proud of myself and of the art I’ve created; the thing is that I’ve practiced and learned and I’ve come a long way, and that’s what really matters.

as for writing dead dove, my advice would be ‘don’t hold yourself back just because you think this is too violent or too disturbing’. as I’ve always said, there is no such thing as ‘too far’, ‘too graphic’ or ‘too triggering’ when it comes to any form of art. 

that being said, content warning is just as important. warn your potential readers beforehand about what they might be getting themselves into if they decided to give your writing a read. this doesn’t mean you have to ‘spoil’ your fic to them, just let your readers know what kind of content is in the work — for instance, child death, blood and gore, non-con, drug use, human trafficking, etc — so that your readers can decide for themselves if the work is too much for them.

but that does NOT mean you should stop writing about This Specific Topic You Love to Write About just because it’s too triggering for your readers. why? because, while your readers should always be appreciated, you don’t write for them. you write FOR YOURSELF.

write what you want to read.

write whatever you want.

you, the writer, are the priority of your work.

don’t write something you don’t want to write just because it’s what your readers want. 

don’t hold yourself back from writing what you want to write just because your readers don’t like it.

the most important factor about writing fanfics and/or original works is that writing should be something you enjoy. not a job (even if you write original work as a career), you should always have fun doing what you’re doing. that’s how you can do your best.

the trick to writing an impactful and emotionally devastating scene is if YOU are invested in what you’re writing enough that words come from within yourself. and you can only be invested in what you’re writing that much if you love and enjoy what you’re writing.

it’s more difficult to love and enjoy what you're doing, if you’re doing it to please other people.

you see where I’m getting at? it’s all about your love, enjoyment and passion as a writer. 

you don’t write for your readers. you write for yourself, and your work will attract to it the right readers who love the same thing you do. and that’s how you successfully write an impactful and emotionally devastating scene that can make your readers cry.

don’t think about whether or not your writing will have enough impact on your readers when you write, because thinking about that will only distract and prevent you from reaching your best potential. just be invested in your writing. 

don’t think about whether or not your readers will like this; because worrying about whether or not your readers will like it will also distract and prevent you from doing your best.

if you want your readers to feel as if they’re a part of the story themselves, you yourself have to be emotionally invested in it that you feel like you’re a part of the story yourself. and that can only happen if you’re doing it for you. not for your readers. not for anybody else. but for you.

repeat after me ‘I am the priority of my writing’. 

again, be invested in your writing. write whatever you want to write, no matter how disturbing or fucked up or violent your work gets, write whatever you want. just don’t forget to tag all the trigger warnings properly.

you don’t ‘try to attract people to read your work’. you get invested in your work, you write whatever you want, out of love and passion, and your work will attract the right readers to it.

I have no doubt you will become one of the best writers out there, anon. keep learning. keep writing. I’m rooting for you.

[candied-boys]

📻Country Radio Themed Prompt List🐎

Y'all, it's rodeo season and I'm havin' a hot cowgirl summer!

I know there are at least a few of us out here who love a little small town, texas two-step, roll in the hay, tailgate party, coffee with a sunrise, dusty boots and sundresses kinda slow life. I know I can't stop putting my favs in situations whenever I listen to country music and I hope y'all hop on the bandwagon and join me for my first creation challenge!

So round up your fav cowboys and giddy up, gurl! We ride 'til the end of September! Radio playlists below👇

FAQ:

Can I submit something I already created if it fits the vibe?

HELL YEAH! Old content that fits the theme in anyway and new creations are all welcome! (Honestly even if it doesn't fit any of the prompts, I'll take any country content I can get so please reblog your works and tag me!)

How can I write for the country genre if I'm not familiar with it?

Don't sweat it! If you vibe with anything here that's more than enough! I tried to pick lyrics with a variety of themes - family, love, coming of age, angst, bad boys/girls etc. They all centre around a sense of connection and relationships - universally human themes.

We're all here playing games that locate the characters inside cultures outside of Japan and we're here writing for cultures outside our own when writing for these games, so don't be shy! Just let yourself have fun.

What should I do with lyrics?

Use the prompts however you like; Any and all types of content submissions are welcome — writing, drabbles, head canons, drawing, mood boards, playlists, whatever makes you say, "Hell yeah!"

Examples: You could use the lyrics directly as quotes, indirectly as the premise for the art. Anything! You could incorporate the lyrics from the rest of the song. There are a ton of great lines/ideas in the rest of each song. You're not restricted to these quotes. I just picked ones that speak to me or have a strong image. If you vibe with it and it inspires you, go for it!

What fandoms can I use with these prompts?

Any suitors from games by CYBIRD (Ikepri, Ikevamp, Ikerev, MidCin, Ikevil, Ikesen, Ikegen, Morganatic Idol, ANYTHING)

What kind of content is allowed?

Sfw, nsfw, dark, angst, fluff, suitor x suitor, selfship, oc x suitor — anything is fine. I only ask that you use Tumblr’s built-in content label system to mark content as mature when appropriate. Use tags and warnings as you see necessary.

What tags should I use?

#CountryRadioCC

please at me @candied-boys so I can add your work to a masterlist

Playlists:

Lyrics:

Heart Like A Truck - Lainey Wilson

I got a hankering for four wide tires

And I can't help it, it's the way I'm wired

'Fore you get too close

Boy, you need to know

Turn - Tyler Hubbard

The way she turns 501s into long, tan legs

She can turn a bad day around like she turns those heads

She can turn one little look into turnin' me on

Five more minutes into all night long

Fishin' in the Dark - Nitty Gritty Dirt Band

And it don't matter if we sit forever

And the fish don't bite

Jump in the river and cool ourselves

From the heat of the night

I Grew Up On A Farm - The Reklaws

Why I gotta watch the sunrise

Job ain't ever done till it's done right

I'll tell you what makes me cry about a steel guitar

And why I gotta work so hard

Dirt Cheap - Cody Johnson

That little girl that used to swing right there

I still see her pink bow in her brown hair

Runnin' up after one of them long days

A big smile makin' every little worry fade

Use Me - Dallas Smith

I'll let you go like I always do

Won't hurt as bad 'cause I always knew

That I was just a chapter, no happily-ever-after

Old Dirt Roads - Owen Riegling

Come and find me down where the treeline ends

And the cattails grow

We can be free, livin' our dreams out

Singin' to the radio

American Kids - Kenny Chesney

Sister's got a boyfriend Daddy doesn't like

Now he's sittin' out back, 3030 in his lap

In the blue bug zapper light

Fast Car - Luke Combs

Won't have to drive too far

Just across the border and into the city

And you and I can both get jobs

Finally see what it means to be living

Long Hot Summer - Keith Urban

I wanna see your brown skin shimmer

In the sun for the first time

I gotta be the one who knows just what to do to you

To get me that smile

I Like It, I Love It - Tim McGraw

Spent 48 dollars last night at the county fair

I throwed out my shoulder, but I won her that teddy bear

Cowgirls - Morgan Wallen

And she got a cold heart but she got a warm smile

Cut from the same cloth, she kinda buck-wild

Little bit angel, whole lotta outlaw

She's trouble but I'll tell you right now, y'all

A banner for y'all:

Adorable horse dividers by @/plum98

[ilovetheriddler]

Reluctant Comfort.

(Arkham Games) Edward Nigma x F!Reader.

Word Count: 1,170.

Contents: You're upset, Edward Comforts you in his own way.

You were distracted and distraught as you made your way back to Edward "Lair," as he called it, your arms full of bags containing more parts and pieces for his contraptions. You had been working as his assistant for a few months now. It most definitely wasn't easy by any means, especially not with how he regularly acted. He was more egotistical than anyone else you had ever met, but he was also undeniably brilliant. Honestly, if he wanted to, he could probably create quite a few things that could ultimately help people, but no. He was purely dedicated to his riddles and his urge to destroy and humiliate The Caped Crusader, Batman.

However, the main thing that currently had you upset wasn't actually anything to do with your "employer," No, it was the result of a run in you just had with one of the boys who used to harrass you in high school, and even though you knew you shouldn't waste any thought on someone who had treated you so poorly, it still ate away at you how he seemingly had a very successful life. He had a loving wife, a high paying job, and he was seemingly well respected. You originally tried to push away your frustration at this by thinking that maybe he had changed since high school. Maybe he was actually a decent guy now? No, no, he wasn't.

You had walked over to say hello, and he gave you the most pitiful look you had ever seen, as if he was disgusted by your very existence. That same infuriating look he gave you all throughout high school. Once he recognized you, he couldn't help bragging about how good his life was. And you knew that you shouldn't wish bad things on this guy, that you should take the high road. But it was really difficult when it was someone who had made you so miserable.

You eventually made it back to Edward's Lair. You walked inside and sat the extra parts and pieces down on the counter. You looked over and could see Edward right where you'd expect to find him. Hunched over his workbench, frantically scribbling out new ideas for his creations onto any scrap of paper within a five feet radius. He looked as disheveled as always. His question mark shirt was unbuttoned and covered in stains from oil and overall dirt. His white tank top underneath was somehow even more filthy. He's covered in sweat and grime, with bandaids scattered onto random places on his arms and face. Yeah, that was your employer, alright.

He hadn't bathed in days. You had been practically begging him to at this point because honestly, he's starting to smell, and you can't handle it. Of course, he just ignored you anytime you brought it up. He always got like this whenever he believed that he had come up with a brilliant plan to take down batman. He briefly glances up at you, his usual slight scowl present on his face.

"It took you long enough! I was beginning to believe that you simply perished or something along those lines!"

"I um... Apologize, Mr Nigma, I... tried to get back here as quickly as possible..."

He was a bit surprised and frustrated at your tone of voice. You were clearly upset about something, and he knew that it would obviously hinder your assistance to him. So he stands up from his workbench and begrudgingly makes his way over to where you were currently standing.

"Alright, spit it out! What insignificant thing is bothering you?"

"It's um... nothing. I just feel a bit... upset, I guess, because I ran into someone who used to be a jerk to me back when I was younger...:

"... And? Is that it?!"

"Well, it's just.... I suppose I'm just frustrated. He's seemingly really successful and happy in life despite how he treats people... I guess I just... always kind of thought that some type of Karma would happen, you know?"

He clenched his jaw slightly in frustration before he sighed.

"So let me see if I have this correct. You're upset because some Imbecilic Fool who used to harrass and humiliate you when you both were teenagers is now successful and seemingly getting everything he desires. Do I have that, right?"

".... Um... yeah, that's basically it....."

"Well, it's absolutely foolish to allow that to bother you! I don't want you wasting a single ounce of energy thinking of that moron. Do you understand!?"

He stared at you with a truly bone-chilling intensity as he waited for you to answer him. You remained silent and simply nodded in response. You could still feel his eyes watching you as your gaze remained glued to the floor from nerves. He let out a noise of somewhat frustration.

"I don't like to repeat myself, so listen carefully! I don't give a damn about whatever he said to you in the past or when you saw him earlier. It doesn't matter! He's just a dimwitted fool clearly, while you have the privilege, the honor of being my trusted assistant! So, take some pride in the fact that I consider you competent enough for my plans."

You were somewhat surprised and taken aback. Despite his usually harsh tone, he almost sounded as though he was... giving you praise...? Or at the very least, what would count as praise and appreciation from somewhat that acted like he did. So you couldn't help but be slightly touched.

"Y-yes, sir.... I understand...."

"... Excellent, now. Bring those spare parts over to my workbench, I need them for my latest project."

He has a somewhat slightly smug look on his face as he returns back to working on his plans. You bring over the materials he asked for and set them down before you clean up some of his scraped pieces of paper, ideas he came up with but then decided weren't worth pursuing so he tore them up in a fit.

About a week later, you're confused when looking over the cameras he had set up to watch batman attempt to solve his challenges and riddles. You could clearly see what appeared to be the same guy who used to torment you in high school. Why was he trapped in one of Eddie's contraptions?

Edward walked into the same room as you and sat down in front of his monitors. He could tell that you were overall confused and unsure as to what exactly he's up to with his latest tester for his newest challenge.

"I don't see why you're so shocked, I mean, after all... I can't allow someone to speak ill of my assistant, only I'm allowed to do so! If anyone else does, then they're practically insulting me and my decision to hire you!"

In a way, it warmed your heart slightly. Was he the best man for you to have secretly developed feelings for? Absolutely not. But you couldn't control it. You were utterly infatuated with him.