#promo because hell yeah | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hxzbinwrites · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! I just saw that requests are open, yeah!! I'd like to request an Alastor x fem!Reader where Vox has a crush on her so he sends her a set of different tea flavor as a gift. The problem is that these contain a drug that inhibits the person (thanks, Valentino). Basically, his plan was to wait for her to drink the tea and then show up at the hotel and seduce her so he could have her for himself (my boy thinks she loves him, lol). The problem is that she had graciously offered the tea to Alastor, who drinks it. Vox asks her if she enjoyed the tea she lies saying it was delicious so he immediately shows up at the hotel but ends up finding Alastor who is being super affectionate with her, revealing his true feelings for her. Eventually Alastor attacks Vox as soon as he sees him forcing the other to flee. Fluff and comedy, basically. xD

Alastor x Fem! Reader x Vox | Tea Time Troubles

Warnings ⚠️: Cussing, drugs, controlling and manipulative Vox, out of character Alastor.

"I dunno 'bout this Voxxy" Valentino said, handing him a baggie of the drug, a weak aphrodisiac lining the walls of the bag.

"Don't worry about me Valentino, I'll be fine" Vox reassured him, holding the bag up to his screened face. He smirked deviously as he put his hands behind his back.

"But you tell me all the time 'bout 'public image' and all that shit." Valentino retorted, crossing his lower arms against his stomach.

"Don't you worry your pretty little face about it Honey" Vox sneered, rubbing his cheek in a falsely affectionate way. "Vox is a big boy and can handle himself. I just gotta put this into some tea bags. (Y/n) WILL be MINE."

"Ugh" The moth groaned, taking a puff of his cigar,"She's not even worth it. She hangs out with radio, fossil trash. If she was good shed know who to choose. Besides, I'm better than she is, right?"

"You're wrong." Vox said, his left eye radiating hypnotizing waves out of anger,"(Y/n) is perfect. She's everything, and she will be mine."

Vox's demonic laughter could be heard across the building, sending chills down anyone who heard it's spine.

--------

"Honey!!" (Y/n) exclaimed, holding up the box of tea that arrived at their house,"Your tea shipment came!"

Alastor, who was reading the paper at the kitchen table, looked over to see his dear (Y/n) carrying two large cardboard boxes.

He teleported over, making his shadows place them atop of the counter. His keen eyes narrowed at the second box, seemingly almost identical to the first one.

"How peculiar!" Alastor said, tapping his cane on the second box, almost poking it as if it was a foreign object.

"What's peculiar about it?" The fellow deer demon asked, peering over at the box her partner was so intrigued by.

"I did not order two shipments of tea from the catalogue this month!" He replied, his smile tightening in irritation. Could someone be trying to plant something in this hotel? Trying to hurt any of his friends, his beloved, or him?

"Maybe it's a promo box?" (Y/n) suggested,"I mean, you are a loyal customer of theirs. Maybe they want you to try a new product, I hear that's the new rage."

"Ah" Alastor replied, walking closer to the counter to rip open the second box to be met with a letter and a large box of tea.

"Thank you for your loyalty Mr. Alastor. We're reaching out to our most loyal customers to give this Promo box to! We're asking that you try our newest flavor, a (your favorite flavor) but with a twist! Despite the erratic sounds at night in Hell, this tea should help you fall right asleep! If you enjoy it, please promote so on your beloved Radio Show!"

"I was right!" The doe said, looking up at her partner,"They must've given it to you because they know you're famous and can promote their tea! Very smart people, I wanna try one tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow? Why not today my doe?" Alastor said, looking down at his partner.

"My stomach isn't feeling the best. Charlie's cake wasn't fully cooked through, but I didn't want to be rude and not eat it. Especially because no one else was!"

Alastor chuckled, petting her sensitive ears. "Now now (Y/n), you should've listened to me! I know all!"

"Al..." She said, batting her eyes up at him,"Do you mind trying it for me? I wanna know if it's good, but I don't want to throw up in my sleep!"

"Why should I?" He inquired, smirking down at (Y/n). "It seems like this predicament could've been easily avoided my little doe! Hahaha!"

"Please" She softly asked, smiling at him back.

"I suppose I can try one cup of it." He said, sitting down at the table, fully expecting (Y/n) to make him the cup as he finished reading his paper.

She giggled at him and began to start the kettle. Moments like these can't be replaced, a docile and homey moment between the two of them. (Y/n) loved seeing this side of him. The Alastor side of him, not the Radio Demon.

(Y/n) opened the smaller box that was enclosed in the large one, picking out the first tea bag. She smelled the bag, the fumes of blended herbs wafting in her nostrils. It smelled lovely, she would've to drink one alongside Alastor.

But she held back on picking up another bag, knowing its sleeping effects. (Y/n) really didn't want to throw up while in her sleep, and potentially on Alastor, who would be as knocked out as her.

Sighing, she finished preparing the tea, pouring it in Alastor's favorite teacups, the one (Y/n) gifted him on their second anniversary many years ago.

She walked back over to him, placing the teacup on his saucer, putting the sugar cube in as well.

"Thank you dearest" Alastor said, his eyes skimming over the newspaper,"I shall be in our room in a moment, why don't you go ahead and get in your nightwear?"

"Alrighty" (Y/n) replied, patting the back of Alastor's chair. That was something the two of them did, (Y/n) knew when to touch Alastor and when to not. Still wanting to show him affection, she'll pat an object close to him.

Alastor gave her a soft smile before returning his focus to the newspaper.

The doe walked up the stairs in the hotel to their shared room. She got in her fluffy pajamas, completed each and every step to her skincare routine, and crawled into bed with a book.

The silence was only broken by the occasional turn of a page, this was (Y/n)‘s daily quiet time, as Alastor liked to read the paper before turning in for the night.

This normally is for about an hour, but tonight it was a mere 30 minutes as the door busted open.

The doe yelped, her skittish nature causing her to flinch at the sudden jolt of noise. Her partner flittered into the room before crawling on top of her, his eyes droopy from the affect.

“Hi sugar” He said, burying his face in the crook of her neck. His ears were pressed against his head as he affectionately nuzzled (Y/n). Alastor grabbed her waist and flipped her on top of him, allowing him to bring her closer to his body, her chest atop of his.

“Al-Alastor?!” (Y/n) exclaimed, tensing up. What has gotten into him!? He’s not one to ever make such…bold advances.

“Oh my love” He said, a dreamy lilt in his voice,”you’re just perfection incarnate. Such a lovely little fawn you are.”

Blushing heavily, she let him rest himself on her, snuggling contently. It was rather peaceful, she did not know where this sudden chance of behavior came from, but it certainly wasn’t the worst by far.

(Y/n)’s ears perked up hearing a notification sound ding from her phone. She slowly grabbed it to check what it was.

Alastor was not very keen on allowing this sort of technology in the house, especially knowing Vox is over all of it. So they made a compromise, he’d take out the camera and microphone and she could have the phone.

Seeing it was a message from Vox, she opened it.

Vox: “Hey sweetheart, I pulled a few strings and got a shipment of some new tea of (your favorite flavor) that was being tested. How did you like it baby?”

(Y/n): Oh, it was good, thanks!

Vox: Just good? You sure sweet stuff? Wasn’t it so good you could just kiss the lips off of the person who got it for you?

(Y/n) sighed, shutting her phone off and curling up with her lover.

“I think that’s a yes!” Vox said, throwing his hands in the air ceremoniously. He quickly put on his best bow tie, in hopes it would get taken off by fingers other than his, and made his way towards the Hazbin Hotel.

————

Vox searched through each room until he found the one you and Alastor shared.

He scowled at the door, seeing a heart with the initials scribed on it “(Y/i) + A”

Pathetic. He could give you so much more than that. He could give you the most advanced technological sign known to mankind just for some silly initials, not some shitty hard with nearly illegible handwriting.

He opened the door, his signature smirk dropping as he saw Alastor, his arch nemesis (in Vox’s eyes) peppering small little kisses all over (Y/n)‘s face, making her giggle.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Vox yelled, his face was blue-screening.

Alastor took one look at the fellow Overlord and let out a long string of laughter, sitting up as he pulled (Y/n) into his lap.

“Vox?! What are you doing here?!”

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE THE ONE TO DRINK THE TEA!! AND THEN YOU’D BE MINE!!”

Alastor hooked a arm around (Y/n)‘s waist, looking at his opponent across the room.

“This is my doe, my love, and we all know if she would’ve drank the tea, she would’ve always chosen me.”

Lets just say, the power around the Pride Ring went out after that comment.

————

Word Count 1,524

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thebluediner · 2 months ago

Text

INTERVIEW HOTNESS/ HOTMESS

host! reader x guest! billie

explanation: it's like a video compilation of all the moments from the interview with reader but in words for y'all

"welcome to the hot ones show where we have an even hotter guest, Billie Eilish" you gesture your hands towards billie for the camera to follow.

"you think i'm hot ?" her brows arch in curiosity with a slight grin on her face.

"I think you're pipping hot" you confirm with slight aggression.

"so you wanna kiss " billie asks her shoulders shrugging with a big flirtatious smile.

"fuck yeah" you say leaning in-

#wing 1

you pick the cards with questions on them flipping through them for the right question to ask while eyeing billie.

"should I be scared ?" she asks with suspicion looking around at the cast behind the camera and back to you.

"not unless you have something so hide" you answer her looking at her hard like some detective from a kids show.

"bitch I'm a celebrity I try hiding everything" she bursts out laughing along with you for a couple of seconds before you both calm down.

"alright what something you've hidden from security when you go to events or boarding a plane" you ask her before setting the card down.

"uhm a vibrator, well vibrators cause there was a lot of them " she elaborates while trying her not to laugh.

"should've eaten that wing billie" you crack up in disbelief looking at the cast because they were also giggle behind the camera.

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍

#wing 2

"your question is a guest who smelt the foulest" billie who immediately takes out her "your turn " perfume and bangs it on the table.

you slightly flinch at the noise before looking closely at what it is. when you finally realise your eyes get bigger before clapping your hands.

"now that's some promo right there" you point at the product while billie waves it in the air.

"now tell us who it is so I can send it to them" she deapans before looking right at you with some pressure to answer.

"oh hell no I'm eating this wing and I'm keeping that for myself thank you very much" you say grabbing the perfume and eating the wing.

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍

#wing 3

"just eat the wing man i won't even bother asking the question" you surrender pushing the wing closer to her.

"no wait lemme see" she takes the card from you to read for herself. her eyes scan the paper reading what's written in the fine print before her jaw drops.

"you know what you were right" she places the card down and bites into the wing.

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍

#wing 4

"a celebrity you've hooked up while working with them on a project" the set members let's out little gasps.

"none but you could be the first" one of the set members hollers at your flirting making billie blush and hide it with her question card.

"oh my gosh girl get out" she says pointing to the door.

you who actually stands up and leaves the the set leaving billie in fits of laughter that you actually stood up and left.

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍

#wing 5

"bro now this wing is so hot it makes me wanna tell you all the people I've hooked up with" billie admits in the midst of drinking ice cold water to put out the spice on her tongue.

"oh don't expose us now" you joke catching billie off guard who then chokes on her water.

"oh my gosh billie don't die " you stand up from your seat to help her out while laughing a bit.

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍

#wing 6

"fuck my lips are so hot" you blubber picking up blocks of ice and putting them in your mouth.

"you do have hot lips " billie chimes in with a flirtatious smile.

since there is ice in your mouth you point at her mumbling something about how dare she flirts with you while you're suffering which only makes her laugh more.

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍

#wing 7

"you think if we kiss it'd burn less" billie asks panting with her tongue hanging out.

"that's not you speaking it's the spice right" you narrow your eyes in suspicion.

"I don't know wanna find out" billie leans forward.

"Billie Eilish Baird O'Connell!" you scream backing up because of being flustered.

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍

#wing 8

" I need to dip my lips in something to ease down the pain of the spice" billie says looking around the table for literally anything even a napkin at this point.

"I know something " your brow arches in mischief.

"oh yeah wh- bro get out! " billie finally catches up to your dirty joke.

"don't act like you wouldn't say that too" you try defending yourself while you double back laughing.

"actually yeah I would " billie admits shaking her head.

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kxsagi · 2 months ago

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So, bllk guys were at home, then they hear ring at door, turns out their s/o ordered a package... Which turns out to be four foot tall plush version of them. How would they react??

Bonus: If they ask: "You do aware you literally date me, right? Why do you need that thing in the first place?" S/O just responds: "Well... You are gone not for weeks, but for months because of your matches, I do miss you and get lonely, you know."

Basically that meme: Ah yes, me, my partner and their four foot tall plush of me

“𝐦𝐞, 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞”

a/n: i freaking love this meme

ft. shidou ryusei, itoshi sae, itoshi rin, isagi yoichi, kaiser michael

shidou ryusei

shidou was chilling on the couch, legs kicked up on the armrest, scrolling through his phone when the doorbell rang. he didn’t even bother moving at first, assuming it was a neighbor or some random delivery guy. but then he heard you call out, “babe, can you grab the door?”

with a groan, he dragged himself off the couch, shirtless in nothing but sweats, and swung the door open.

his eyes narrowed. a massive box sat on the doorstep, and he squinted at the label. your name. “uh, what the hell did you buy?”

he kicked the box lightly, feeling how weirdly soft it was.

cue him watching you gleefully tear it open like a kid on christmas, only to pull out… a four foot tall plush of him.

he blinked. once. twice. “nah. no way.” he stalked over, snatching the plush from your hands. “the fuck is this thing?!”

you grinned. “do you like it? it’s you!”

he deadpanned. “yeah, no shit it’s me. why do you need this freaky-ass clone of me?”

when you shyly explained, “well… you’re gone not just for weeks, but for months because of your matches, so i do miss you and get lonely, you know,” he just stared at you.

his eye twitched. “so your solution was to get a diet version of me? the walmart brand?”

but instead of being annoyed, shidou cracked a wild grin. he picked the plush up and body-slammed it onto the couch. “alright, plush boy. you think you’re my replacement? let’s go.”

proceeds to fake-wrestle the plush, talking mad shit to it like he’s in some WWE promo.

“you think you can satisfy my girl, huh?! you ain't got the rizz, bro!”

bonus: he dramatically throws the plush on the bed and smirks at you. “now you’ve got two of me. double the trouble, baby.”

itoshi sae

sae was on the couch, flipping through a sports magazine, feet tucked under a blanket like the cozy grandpa he is.

the doorbell rang, and he glanced at you, expecting you to answer. when you didn’t move, he sighed through his nose and dragged himself to the door.

he opened it only to find a massive box sitting there. his first thought was, “what in the capitalist hell did she buy this time?”

he carried it inside effortlessly, setting it down in front of you.

sae watched with mild disinterest as you opened it, then immediately did a slow blink when you pulled out a life-sized plush of him.

his expression was blank. just pure silence.

he blinked. once. twice. thrice. then:

“… you are aware you literally date me, right? why do you need that thing in the first place?”

you bit your lip and sheepishly muttered, “well… you’re gone not just for weeks, but for months because of your matches, so i do miss you and get lonely, you know.”

his eyes softened. just a fraction. his fingers twitched slightly, but he masked it with a dry sigh.

“you’re ridiculous.”

and then, without saying anything else, he walked away.

you frowned, assuming he was brushing it off, but five minutes later, you peeked into the bedroom… and saw him lying on the bed with the plush tucked under his arm.

he glanced at you, looking unbothered. “what? you bought it. might as well use it.”

bonus: after a couple of hours, you find him subtly fluffing its hair to make it look less disheveled. he side-eyes you with a faint glare when you giggle. “say anything, and i’m throwing it out.”

itoshi rin

rin was at the kitchen counter, filling his water bottle after finishing his home workout, his black tank clinging to his skin.

the doorbell rang, but he ignored it. not his problem.

when you called out, “rinnie, it’s a package!” he wiped his face with a towel and muttered, “you ordered it, you get it.”

that is, until he saw you struggling with a box twice your size. he clicked his tongue and walked over, grabbing it from you effortlessly and setting it down.

when you tore the box open and pulled out a four foot plush version of him, rin’s eyes narrowed immediately.

his gaze was stone cold.

“what the hell is that.”

you hugged the plush, beaming. “it’s you!”

his face twitched. deadpan. blank stare.

“you are aware you literally date me, right? why do you need that thing in the first place?”

when you shyly admitted, “well… you’re gone not just for weeks, but for months because of your matches, so i do miss you and get lonely, you know,” he just stared at you.

rin exhaled slowly, then turned his back to you.

“whatever.”

but later that night, you woke up from your nap and found the plush sitting on the floor… facing the wall.

you squinted at rin, who was on his phone, clearly the culprit.

“why is he in timeout?” you asked, raising a brow.

rin didn’t even look up. “didn’t like the way he was looking at me.”

bonus: he pretends to hate it but you catch him stealing glances at it from time to time. and when you’re asleep? he tosses a blanket over it so it doesn’t “stare” at him.

isagi yoichi

isagi was on the couch, happily binge-watching his favorite anime when he heard the doorbell.

he jumped up enthusiastically, assuming it was the food delivery you mentioned.

when he opened the door, he paused. big-ass box.

“huh? i didn’t order anything…”

he carried it inside and watched in confusion as you eagerly opened it.

his jaw dropped when you pulled out a massive plush of him.

he blinked. “wait… hold on. hold on. is that… me?!”

you beamed. “isn’t it cute?”

he looked genuinely concerned for your mental health.

“love… you’re aware you literally date me, right? why do you need that thing in the first place?”

when you softly admitted, “well… you’re gone not just for weeks, but for months because of your matches, so i do miss you and get lonely, you know,” his face fell slightly.

his eyes softened immediately.

he slowly walked over and wrapped his arms around you. “aw… baby…” he cooed, kissing the side of your head.

then without warning, he snatched the plush and started cradling it like a baby.

“yo, this is so cool though. look! i can practice celebrations with it!”

proceeds to mimic goal celebrations with the plush, spinning it around and fake high-fiving it.

bonus: the next day, you find him sprawled out on the couch with the plush tucked under his arm while he naps.

kaiser michael

kaiser was lounging in bed, shirt unbuttoned and hair still damp from his shower, casually scrolling through his phone when the doorbell rang.

he waited. and waited. clearly expecting you to answer it.

when you didn’t move, he let out a dramatic sigh, muttering something about how he shouldn’t have to lift a finger for such trivial tasks.

he dragged himself to the door like he was doing the world’s most exhausting chore.

but when he opened it, his brows furrowed at the massive box sitting on the doorstep.

“what the hell is this?” he muttered, carrying it inside effortlessly.

he barely paid attention as you tore into it excitedly, until you yanked out a four foot tall plush version of him.

his jaw dropped slightly. he blinked once. then twice.

“wait… hold on.” he pointed at the plush. then at himself. then back at the plush.

his lips slowly curled into a self-satisfied smirk.

“oh. oh, this is perfect.”

instead of being confused or freaked out like a normal person, kaiser’s ego inflated tenfold.

he snatched the plush from you, holding it at arm’s length, examining it with faux critical eyes.

“hmm. the hair could use a bit more volume. and the eyes? they’re not as dazzling as the real thing.”

then he turned to you with a playful grin.

“but i get it, schatz. i’m gone for weeks at a time. naturally, you’d need a placeholder.”

he leaned in close, voice low and teasing. “but you know… if you were that lonely, you could’ve just flown out to see me.”

when you explained softly, “well… you’re gone not just for weeks, but for months because of your matches, so i do miss you and get lonely, you know,” his eyes softened for half a second.

but then his smirk returned with twice the arrogance.

“aww, you miss me that much, huh?”

bonus: later, you catch him posing the plush around the house, making it sit on the couch with crossed legs like it owns the place.

he even takes selfies with it and posts them on his story with captions like:

“double the kaiser, double the greatness 😎✨”

“which one is the real me? 👑”

“@bluelockofficial take notes. merch idea.”

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock headcanons #isagi yoichi x reader #yoichi isagi x reader #michael kaiser x reader #kaiser michael x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #shidou ryusei x reader #ryusei shidou x reader #me my partner and their four foot tall plush version of me

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pigfacedbitch · 2 months ago

Text

The Price of Promos

summary : Percy is obsessed with you, but people ship you with Jason. what's worse is you two take advantage of it on certain situations.

word count : 0.9k

pairing/s : Percy Jackson x Daughter of Nyx! Reader (Kinda?). Jason Grace x Reader (It's just for show).

warning/s : does lying for free stuff count as one? Percy is a little unhinged.

here's my masterlist!

Note : I, too, would like free stuff.

Perseus Jackson doesn’t hate Jason Grace.

I mean, how could anyone?

The guy is basically a walking PR campaign for heroism— selfless, kind, responsible, and so absurdly noble. They all had their tragic backstories, but Jason?

The guy was literally sacrificed as a toddler. Meanwhile, Percy at least had a childhood (albeit featuring Smelly Gabe and an absentee sea god for a dad, but still— memories were made).

Let’s not forget the sheer unfairness of Jason’s looks: golden-boy Roman features, electric blue eyes, six-pack abs (which Percy totally never stared at), and that conveniently attractive scar that made people swoon like he was the protagonist of a tragic romance novel.

If they only knew he got that scar from trying to eat a fucking stapler.

Jason could’ve been an entitled jerk, taking advantage of his powers, his authority, his stupidly good genetics. But no. He had to go and be a great person. Patient, understanding— the human equivalent of a therapy dog, if therapy dogs could shoot lightning and fly.

How could anyone hate that?

So yeah, technically, Percy couldn’t hate him.

But sometimes... Percy wants to yeet him into the ocean and never let him out.

Why?

Because of you.

The only demigod of Nyx.

You, the one demigod that somehow made Camp Half-Blood look like it had something to prove.

You weren’t rude, per se. Just… too unbothered, like someone who had already seen way too much crap to care anymore.

A walking badass, terrifying in the way that made people question their own survival skills.

Like when a monster asked, “How will you sleep at night after everything you’ve done?” and you deadpanned, "Like a baby, motherfucker." before slicing its head off.

You, who casually sipped a drink after saying, "Gods are the funniest to torture. They don’t die. They can’t beg for death if it never comes."

Or the time you casually dragged a monster into Tartarus instead of fighting it because "Ugh, this is taking too long! I have plans."

Half the camp was terrified of you. The other half idolized you. There was no middle ground.

And Percy? He is obsessed.

It wasn’t a secret either. His friends roasted him constantly about it.

They have a running joke about how the literal savior of Olympus could barely ask you out without causing plumbing disasters.

It was either you were oblivious, or you were just waiting for him to, as Leo so eloquently put it, grow some cojones and finally make a move.

So technically, you weren’t his. Yet.

He is working on it, okay?

But what made his blood boil was how everyone kept shipping you and Jason— the golden boy and the dark, dangerous femme fatale. Oooh, forbidden love! The perfect aesthetic! Percy couldn’t care less.

At first, you and Jason laughed it off. But then—

Sales. Discounts. Promos.

And suddenly, Percy was living in hell.

Because the moment a deal was on the table, you and Jason leaned into the "couple" act so fast it gave Percy whiplash.

That’s when Percy’s casual irritation turned into full-blown homicidal intent. Towards Jason, of course.

The first betrayal happened at a café.

A barista, way too chipper for Percy’s liking, smiled at you and Jason. "Are you two a couple? Lovebirds get free drinks today!"

Percy watched in horror as you and Jason shared a look.

Free drink, (Y/N)?

Duh, idiot.

And with synchronized, Oscar-worthy smiles, you both turned to the barista. "Yes, we are."

The barista squealed. "You’re like night and day. So cute!"

Jason, fully committing, threw an arm around you. Percy was this close to turning that café into an aquarium.

His hand inched toward Riptide.

He could make it look like an accident. Right?

Instead, he settled for stabbing his blue cupcake with enough aggression to count as a felony. He, of course, paid full price for it.

Unbelievable.

The next time, it was at a shopping mall. You were all just supposed to get supplies. Simple. Harmless. Until a saleslady smiled brightly at you and Jason.

"You two are adorable! Are you dating?"

"Oh, we’re n—"

"Couples get a 50% discount per purchase. To keep the love alive!"

"—totally dating! Right, Jason?"

Percy felt his soul leave his body.

Jason, grinning, sealed the betrayal with a playful peck on your cheek.

Percy lunged. Annabeth and Grover had to physically hold him back.

"I can make it swift. Jason won’t feel a thing—"

"No." Annabeth and Grover said in unison.

And then there was the movie theater.

The old vendor, all kind smiles, handed Jason a snack box. "For you and your girlfriend. Enjoy the movie, kid."

Jason, with those perfect teeth, turned to you. "Love, come here."

You complied. He puts an arm around your waist and pressed multiple kisses on your cheek. "Isn't my boyfriend the sweetest?"

Percy nearly exploded on the spot.

Jason Grace. Cause of death? Choking on excessive buttered popcorn and blue Coke.

At the end of the day, Percy knew it was all for the freebies.

Logically, he got it.

But that didn’t stop the irrational rage whenever he saw you two act like a couple.

It looked too good. Too natural.

Like you were actually in love and not just two chaotic demigods scamming capitalism.

So, eventually, like a normal human being? He snaps.

"Are you SERIOUS? AGAIN?" He practically yells during another fake dating stunt.

Everyone stops. You and Jason blink.

Percy throws his hands in the air. "Oh my gods, just date Jason already if you love scamming the universe so much!"

You tilt your head. "Or… you could just ask me out already?"

"...That's a better option. Come on, let's leave this stapler-eating nerd." Percy grabs your hand and pulls you away. "Fly home, Jason!"

"I drove us here, though?" Jason murmurs, confused.

You just laugh, intertwining your hand with his.

And Percy? He just smirks, finally tasting victory.

#percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson imagines #jason grace #jason grace x reader #jason grace imagine #jason grace imagines #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus x reader #heroes of olympus imagine #heroes of olympus imagines #pjo x reader #hoo x reader #pjo imagine #hoo imagine #riordanverse

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vandme12 · 2 months ago

Note

I was the one who requested the Royal Cafe, Can you just do it as a Ronin x Reader?

Inspiration

SINFUL CAFE AND YOUR RONIN

CHARACTER USED : Ronin from Killer Chat!

SUMMARY : Your Cafe is almost dead, Angel saved and A Devil became a Cat?

So you've been in this serial killer server for eight months, and somehow, against all odds, you fell for Ronin. That purgatory of a first kiss? Yeah, it ruined you in the best way. Now it’s a whole trend—flirting, fighting, maybe even feeling.

You love him. He loves you. (Maybe.)

He’s feisty about it, of course. Teasing, testing, pushing you just enough to keep you on edge, but never quite letting you fall. And god, you love it. You love him. You love this—this insane little corner of the internet where murder is a casual conversation, where death is a game, and where your heart beats way too fast whenever his name pops up in your notifications.

So, tell me—what’s next?

So, you’re a writer. And an idiot. A beautiful, chaotic idiot who somehow—somehow—managed to open a royal-themed café because childhood-you watched one maid café anime and said, “Yeah, that’s the dream.”

And guess what? Dream achieved, baby. You’ve got the whole setup—maids in frilly dresses, butlers in crisp suits, fancy teacups, and a menu with way too many desserts. It’s perfect. Almost.

Except… your staff? Absolute disasters.

Your maids? Shit. Your butlers? Worse shit. Half of them can’t carry a tray without causing a full-scale catastrophe. The other half are more likely to flirt with customers for tips than serve them. You hired them for the aesthetic, not the competence, and it shows.

But hey, it’s your dream. And if you’re going to go down in flames, at least you’re doing it in a sparkly maid café, right?

Your royal café is on life support.

Sure, you’ve got the maids. You’ve got the butlers. You’ve got the fancy-ass menu with cakes that are probably overpriced. But there’s one tiny, devastating problem—nobody knows you exist.

Like, you’re out here living your sparkly childhood fantasy, and the universe decided to spit in your crème brûlée. Customers? Barely any. Popularity? Nonexistent. It’s so bad that your butlers started playing rock-paper-scissors to decide who actually has to work when someone��finally—walks through the door.

The closing sign is practically looming over your café’s head. You tried everything—social media posts, themed events, hell, you even forced your staff into a cringy dance routine on TikTok. Nothing. Still ghost town vibes.

And it’s really sad, okay? You didn’t go through all this chaos just to shut down like some tragic protagonist. There has to be a way to save it—right?

You felt like absolute shit.

This café was supposed to be your magnum opus—your crowning achievement of cute uniforms, elegant service, and the kind of fluffy desserts that make people squeal. Instead? You’re staring at the empty tables, wondering if it’s physically possible to die from secondhand embarrassment as your maids argue over who actually has to smile today.

Even your most loyal butler, who once prided himself on his "mysterious prince" aesthetic, just muttered, "Why bother?" while unironically sipping from a Garfield mug. Garfield, in your royal café. The disrespect.

You tried everything—promo flyers, ‘buy one, get one free’ events, you even begged your questionable internet friends (read: serial killers) to spread the word. Nothing worked.

And now, sitting behind the counter, chin in your hands, you feel the crushing weight of failure. Maybe this was a stupid dream. Maybe you should’ve just written your little murder book and called it a day.

But no. You’re too stubborn to quit now.

The café’s a mess. Your staff is a disaster. But dammit, this is your disaster.

You were overstressed, underslept, and one more burnt crème brûlée away from a complete breakdown.

Between fixing the café’s finances, dragging your chaotic staff out of whatever emotional crisis they were having this time, and trying to figure out if it was actually legal for one of your maids to threaten a customer (it wasn’t), you hadn’t logged into the server for a week.

A week.

Which, in "Serial Killer Chatroom Time," was practically a century.

Your phone buzzed. Again. And again. You ignored it—because if you saw one more "URGENT!!!" message from your accountant (who now ended every email with "we’re so fucked"), you were going to scream.

But then… a familiar notification popped up.

GOREBOY:

Did you die or are you ghosting me? I can make both happen. 💔

You blinked. Oh. Shit.

You hadn’t answered Ronin in days. And if there was one thing that man hated more than authority figures, it was being ignored.

Another message.

K9:

You’ve been offline too long. Something wrong?

HITMEUPPP:

bro if ur dead lmk

Your heart gave a weird, guilty little flutter. Even V was checking in, and that man was emotionally repressed on principle.

You rubbed your face, debating if you should respond or just fake your death and move to another country. Before you could decide, your phone buzzed again—hard enough to make you flinch.

GOREBOY (PRIVATE DM):

You’re either working too hard or digging your own grave. Which is it...

Oh. You were so fucked.

Your notifications were cursed. Every time you tried to catch a break, another ping dragged you back into the chaos. And now? Everyone was in on it.

LUCA_IS_SO_COOL:

brooo u alive?? 🏄‍♂️ i was gonna invite u surfing but like. ur ghosting us.

EVISCERATOR1990:

Are You Okay?

angelic:

babe, if you needed a break, you could’ve said so. but if you died, I’m gonna be pissed.

FELICITE:

You okay? No judgment, just checking. If you need help, I’ve got a shovel and an alibi.

Even Ai Hua—sweet, terrifying Ai Hua—sent a message.

Ai Hua:

☹️

When Ai Hua pulls out the sad face, you know you messed up.

You exhaled, feeling that familiar ache crawl up your spine. The stress. The exhaustion. The fact that you hadn’t eaten anything besides café leftovers for days. Your dream café was circling the drain, your staff couldn’t brew a latte without setting something on fire, and now your murder chatroom friends were worried you’d become a cold case.

Before you could spiral any harder, your phone buzzed again—one more DM from Ronin.

GOREBOY:

Last chance, baby. Tell me what’s wrong, or I’m breaking into your life.

And with him, you believed it.

You crack your knuckles, sighing as you finally cave and open the server. Bad idea? Probably. But if you didn’t say something soon, you were half-convinced Ronin would break into your apartment and bother you in person—which, knowing him, wasn’t even the weirdest thing he’d do.

You hit the general chat and type:

you:

lol sorry i died but i came back bc i heard the devil crying 😔 gotta support local businesses

LUCA_IS_SO_COOL:

YOURE BACKKKKK 🎉

angelic:

tf kind of fanfic-ass excuse is that.

EVISCERATOR1990:

typical. the devil’s always needy.

Ai Hua:

😌👍

GOREBOY:

you’re lucky i’m cute, or i’d haunt you myself.

You roll your eyes, but your heart does a stupid little flip. Of course, he would twist this into being about him. You barely hesitate before sliding into his DMs, fingers flying.

you:

why are u like this

you:

i’ve been stressed out of my mind and here you are playing “where’s my favorite corpse”

you:

my café is dying. my employees are morons. i haven’t slept in days. everything sucks.

you:

and you?? teasing me like “where’s my baby 😢 are you in the afterlife?? did you leave me??”

You should stop. You should. But your thumbs don’t.

you:

like bro. i’m about to pass out in a puddle of failed cappuccinos and you’re making it MY problem that i’m not flirting back??

You stare at the screen, expecting some sarcastic reply. Something cocky. Something Ronin.

Instead, after a beat—

GOREBOY:

...tell me everything.

You blink.

you:

what?

GOREBOY:

everything. all of it.

GOREBOY:

i’m listening, baby. go ahead—vent it out.

And just like that—you break. You tell him everything. The constant stress, the unpaid bills, the fact that your “dream café” is hanging by a thread because nobody wants to buy overpriced lattes served by questionable maids and worse butlers. How you’ve been grinding yourself into the ground, and it still isn’t enough.

And the whole time? He doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t tease. He just… listens.

Finally, when you’re done—when you’ve vomited every anxious thought into his DMs—he replies.

GOREBOY:

okay. first? if you die, i’m bringing you back myself.

GOREBOY:

second? i’m coming over.

you:

?????

GOREBOY:

did i stutter?

You: hey!!!!

You slam the message into Ronin’s DMs He's not try to pull that "I’m coming over" nonsense. You’re stressed, overworked, and no way in hell are you dealing with that in person.

GOREBOY:

oh? suddenly alive again? miss me already, baby?

You:

shut up omg. i’m fine. go be evil somewhere else.

GOREBOY:

nah. you’re my favorite pastime.

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. This man. This man. And like the problem he is, he doesn’t stop there.

GOREBOY:

c’mon, sweet thing. tell me more.

GOREBOY:

my muse needs their muse, don't they?

And, damn it, he knows exactly how to work you. Your head’s been a mess—deadlines on your novel, bills piling up from the café, maids and butlers who couldn’t charm a customer to save their lives. Your dream’s slipping through your fingers, and you’ve been too tired to write, too tired to do anything but spiral.

But he keeps talking.

GOREBOY:

bet you’re cute when you pout.

GOREBOY:

and if your little café is your house? yeah, angel—burn the world down before you let anyone take it.

Your heart does a dumb little flip.

You:

it’s different, though… if i lose this place, i’ll break. me and my parents—we worked so hard. it’s not just a shop. it’s… home.

He goes quiet for a second. Too quiet.

Then—your phone buzzes. He’s calling you. Of course he is.

You hesitate… but pick up.

The screen flickers, and there he is—Ronin, all lazy smirk and sharp angles, his silver hair falling into his eyes. He scans you, slow and deliberate, and yeah… you’ve got eyebags for days, but the way he looks at you—shit.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” you mutter, voice softer than you mean it.

“Yeah,” he drawls, tilting his head. “I was just thinkin’… even with the eyebags, you look great, darlin’.”

You roll your eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

But he keeps staring. Long. Intense. Like he’s memorizing you.

“What?” you snap, feeling your face heat.

“Nothing,” he says—too casual. “Just… go to sleep.”

You blink. “What, why—”

“I’ll watch,” he cuts in, voice dropping to that smooth, velvet tone that makes your stomach flip. “Until you’re out. That a problem, baby?”

Your heart stutters. “Why are you—”

“‘Cause I’m nice.” He leans closer to the camera, grin curling wicked. “And this is how I get repaid? My Darlin an ungrateful idiot, huh?”

You swallow hard, brain short-circuiting. “I—”

“Relax.” His voice softens, teasing but warm. “Shoulder devils gotta take care of their angels, baby. You work too hard. So, shut up and let me be sweet. Just this once.”

And hell—you’d argue, but you’re already sinking deeper under his spell.

Your laughter slips out before you can stop it—light, tired, but real. “Thanks, Ronin.”

For once, he doesn’t shoot back a smart-ass comment. Instead, he just… smiles. Soft at the edges, like he’s letting his guard down without realizing it. And damn, if that doesn’t make your chest ache a little.

“Good night, darlin’,” he murmurs, voice smooth as sin.

You smirk, letting your head fall against the pillow. “Good night, Butcher.”

His eyes flash with something dangerous—amused. “Tch. Call me that again, angel, and I might think you’re flirting.”

“Maybe I am,” you tease, your voice dipping just enough to make it stick.

He huffs a laugh under his breath. “You’re lucky I’m feeling sweet. Sleep. Before I crawl through the screen and tuck you in myself.”

“Promises, promises…” you mumble, already half-asleep.

And as you drift off, the last thing you hear is his voice—lower, softer than before.

“…Sweet dreams, baby.”

Ronin leans back in his chair after hanging up, fingers drumming against his thigh. For once, the usual smirk on his face fades into something… complicated. The hell’s he supposed to do with this?

You’re stressed—overworked, overwhelmed, cracking at the edges. And sure, he loves teasing you, loves watching you squirm, but… this? This hits different. You care about that dumb café like it’s your soul stitched into the walls. If you lose it, you’ll break.

And—ugh—he doesn’t like when you sound broken.

A sharp ping breaks his thoughts.

Angelic: hey goreboy, any update? hitmeuppp: fr fr bossman u know what’s up right? Eviscerator1990: WORRYING. This isn’t slasher-behavior, kid. LUCA_IS_SO_COOL: bro, did they die again? Ai Hua: 👍

Ronin groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Fucking vultures…”

He could brush them off—should brush them off—but his eyes flick back to your DM window. Your sleepy voice still lingers in his head. It’s like your house.

Tch. Of course you’d say something sappy like that. Of course he gives a shit.

goreboy: I don’t know. Let ‘em breathe.

A pause. Then—

Angelic: Liar.

He barks a laugh. They know him too well.

But… he does have a plan. Something stupid. Something reckless. Something only he can pull off.

If you’re gonna keep your café from crumbling, you’ll need one thing.

Publicity.

And who better to stir up a little chaos than the devil himself?

Ronin cracks his neck, the familiar edge of a smirk curling his lips as he types back.

goreboy: I have a wonderful plan.

The server erupts immediately.

Angelic: That’s never comforting. hitmeuppp: oh no oh no oh no Eviscerator1990: Define "wonderful," kid. LUCA_IS_SO_COOL: is it illegal. wait no. dumb question. Ai Hua: 👀

Ronin kicks his feet up on his desk, stretching like a cat that’s found fresh prey. He should probably explain—nah—he likes the suspense.

goreboy: Sit tight, sinners. Devil’s about to perform a miracle.

Even Felicite, who usually keeps her distance from the server’s chaos, drops a rare message.

Félicité: I’m almost scared to ask.

Ronin barks out a laugh, tipping his head back. If she’s curious, this plan is already off to a fantastic start.

goreboy: Don’t worry, princess. You’re gonna love it.

hitmeuppp: if u get them arrested, i’m telling their mom.

goreboy: Please, like I’m that sloppy.

goreboy: alright, angels—brainstorm time. how do we save my darlin’s dying café?

angelicc: OH. MY. GOD. I GOT THIS.

Before Ronin can even blink, Angel creates a new group chat and drags him in. The name?

💀 "Operation: Save the Café (ft. Hot Butcher)" 💀

hitmeuppp: wow u really just out here putting their whole situationship on blast huh

angelicc: duh. it’s cute. shut up, Misaki.

goreboy: so, what’s the master plan, sweetheart?

angelicc: Simple. I’ll feature their café on my channel. "Mystery Maid & Butler Café – The Hidden Gem You NEED To Visit!"

angelicc: Cute aesthetic. Mystery theme. And you? You’re coming too.

goreboy: oh?

angelicc: Yeah, I need the butcher boy for emotional support vibes.

Ronin snorts, already imagining how much fun he could have with this. If Angel’s running the show, the café is about to get flooded with curious fans.

goreboy: i’m in. tell me when to show up.

angelicc: Of course!

hitmeuppp: WAIT—WAIT. HOLD UP.

LUCA_IS_SO_COOL: DareDarvil rules, baby!!! 😎

goreboy: you mean to tell me…

angelicc: No. Luca.

hitmeuppp: YES.

LUCA_IS_SO_COOL: YESSSSS.

goreboy: …You want me to show up in a maid dress. With cat ears. And a tail.

LUCA_IS_SO_COOL: AND FAKE BLOOD! Don’t forget the blood—like a cute lil’ murder maid, bro.

There’s a long pause. Ronin leans back in his chair, dragging his tongue over his teeth, half amused and half what the actual hell.

LUCA_IS_SO_COOL: Think about it. Viral marketing. “Sinful Maid Café” featuring a devilishly hot butcher.

hitmeuppp: Bro, if you pull up in cat ears, you KNOW they’ll have a line out the door.

LUCA_IS_SO_COOL: Exactly. Chicks and Ddes dig murder maids.

goreboy: ...You’re all insane.

angelicc: As long you're okay with it. I don't really like this idea..

A slow, wicked smile curls at the corner of Ronin’s mouth. He pictures your stressed-out, sleep-deprived face when he walks into your café like that—oh, he’s gonna ruin you.

goreboy: Fine. But if I’m doing it, I’m going all in.

angelicc: Define “all in”…

goreboy: Tail. Ears. Knife. And if anyone gets blood on my skirt, they’re next.

hitmeuppp: Bro’s about to awaken something in half the city.

The next day

You blink, still half-asleep, as the café door swings open—and in walks Angel, glowing like a literal angel with her flawless makeup and bright smile. She’s dressed to kill, all elegance and danger wrapped in a leather jacket that probably costs more than your rent. Behind her, Ronin—looking like he rolled out of bed, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket, eyes half-lidded but sharp.

“Morning, sunshine,” Angel coos, voice dripping honey as she surveys your café. “I couldn’t just sit back and let you spiral. You know I hate watching cute things break.”

You stare at her, still processing the fact that she’s standing here, in your café, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And your staff? Oh, your staff is losing their minds.

“Wait, wait—you’re Angelic?” one of your waitresses gasps, clutching the edge of a tray like she might faint.

“The one and only.” Angel winks, spinning on her heel. “And I’m here to save this adorable little café. So, listen up—new plan, everyone! We’re rebranding.”

You blink rapidly. “Re…branding?”

She flashes you a devilish smile. “Sinful Café. Think blood-splattered butlers, seductive maids—" She lowers her voice into a sultry purr, “—danger with your dessert. It’ll go viral in days. Trust me.”

And of course—because she’s Angel—your staff is eating it up. They’re already brainstorming costumes, throwing out ideas, hanging off her every word. You should be grateful. You should say thank you. But…

Your eyes drift to Ronin. He’s quiet, leaning against the counter, his gaze locked on you—steady, unreadable.

Did they… really do all this? For you?

You swallow hard. “Why?” The word slips out before you can stop it.

Angel tilts her head, smiling like it’s obvious. “Because you’re ours, duh.”

Your heart stutters.

“Don’t get soft on me now, darlin’,” Ronin drawls finally, breaking his silence. His voice—low, smooth, dangerously amused—crawls right under your skin. “You didn’t think we’d let your little house fall apart, did you?”

“You’re here!” The words slip out faster than you can stop them—your voice cracking with something dangerously close to relief. And, of course, Ronin hears it.

His lips curl into a slow, wicked smirk. “Missed me that bad, huh?” He leans in, the scent of leather and something sharper brushing against your senses.

You flush, heat crawling up your neck. “Pfft—no. I’m just surprised you’re awake before noon.”

“Ouch. And here I was, being all sweet, coming to save your ass.” His finger lifts, smooth and deliberate, and—boop—he taps the tip of your nose with the cocky audacity only he could pull off.

Your brain short-circuits for a second. “Did you just—?”

“What? You wanna do something about it, darlin’?” His voice drips teasing venom, but his eyes—oh, his eyes—are locked on yours, watching every little reaction like it’s his favorite show.

Without thinking, you reach out and boop him back. Harder. “Two can play that game, Butcher.”

His grin widens, teeth flashing sharp. “Aw, baby—don’t start something you can’t finish.”

And just like that, you’re caught in a spiral—back and forth, noses being bopped like you’re flirting in some chaotic cartoon. Until—

“...They’re seriously gonna do this in front of everyone?”

You freeze. Your staff. And Angel.

Oh no.

Angel, being her usual self, is lounging against a table with a shit-eating grin. “I mean, it’s cute. Like, stupidly cute.”

“They’re literally blushing—look at them!” one of your waiters whisper-yells, half-hiding behind a coffee tray.

“And they say we’re unprofessional,” one of your maids adds, crossing her arms—but her face is way too entertained.

Meanwhile, you? You’re dying inside. Absolutely dying.

Ronin? Oh, he’s thriving.

He bops your nose again—softer this time, like he’s savoring how easy it is to make you squirm. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Losing your edge?” His hand barely brushes your waist as he leans closer, voice dropping to a teasing murmur. “I thought you liked a little attention.”

You want to slap him. You also want to kiss him. Dangerous combo.

“You’re evil,” you mutter, trying (and failing) to glare at him.

“And you love it,” he shoots back without missing a beat.

Your grip on a glass tightens—so much so that it nearly shatters in your hands. Your heart’s pounding, and you swear the room’s hotter than it should be.

Your staff? Fully gossiping under their breath.

You noticed it immediately—the way your staff kept sneaking glances at Ronin. And not the “oh no, scary serial killer” kind of glances. No. It was the other kind.

The "he’s cute as hell" kind.

The whispering was bad enough.

“Why is he kinda hot, though?”

“Okay, but the messy hair? The voice??”

“I’d let him ruin my life, honestly.”

Your eye twitched. Why were they like this?

And why—out of everyone—did it have to be him they were thirsting over?

Ronin, of course, was oblivious. Or maybe he just didn’t care. He was too busy looking like a whole damn problem—leaning against the counter like he owned the place, one hand shoved casually into his jacket pocket, the other still too close to your waist.

He caught you glaring and quirked a brow. "What’s with the face, darlin’? Don’t tell me you’re jealous."

You rolled your eyes. "Of what? Your fan club?"

His smirk sharpened. "What can I say? People love a bad boy."

Okay, that was it. Enough.

You shot a death glare at your staff—the kind that screamed "I will fire all of you if you keep simping."

Instantly, they froze.

And, as one, they all gave you awkward thumbs-ups before scrambling out of the room.

Cowards.

Ronin laughed low in his throat. "Did you just chase them off?"

"Someone had to." You huffed, crossing your arms. "They were staring at you like you’re a damn dessert menu."

His gaze slid over you, slow and too pleased with himself. "Maybe they’ve just got good taste."

Oh, for the love of—

"Get out of my café, Ronin"

He only grinned wider. "Make me, sweetheart."

Angel spread out the plan with all the flair of someone who lived for the spotlight. "Alright, listen up, sinners." She clapped her hands, and the entire staff leaned in, hanging onto her every word. "We’re turning this café into a killer’s paradise—literally. Blood, danger, hot people in unholy outfits. We want every customer leaving here questioning their morality and maybe their life choices."

Your staff murmured excitedly—because of course they did.

Meanwhile, you?

Yeah, you were not listening.

Because Ronin—the actual Devil in a leather jacket—was still standing too close, arms folded, head tilted as he half-listened to Angel’s pitch. And you? You were just… staring.

Why did he have to look that good doing absolutely nothing?

His hair was a mess, that lazy smirk was doing something to your heart, and you were blushing like an idiot. And worse? He knew it.

Angel caught your stare immediately because she was evil like that. Her gaze flicked between you and Ronin, and when you met her eyes—oh, she was already smirking.

You shot her back a glare. Shut up.

She only grinned wider and mouthed, "Adorable."

Ugh.

You forced yourself to focus as she dramatically flipped through her phone. "And now… costumes." With a flourish, she spun her phone around to reveal the lineup. "Everyone’s getting a killer makeover. Think blood-splattered chic. Sexy slasher. Haute homicide."

Your staff was way too excited about this.

"I call being the ghost-faced butler!"

"Can I be a psycho doll?"

"I’m doing a vampire killer—deal with it."

Angel winked at you. "And don’t worry, babe. I’ve got a special costume just for you."

You groaned. "Should I be scared?"

"Always," she said sweetly.

But your heart stuttered when Ronin—still leaning against the counter—sighed with fake boredom. "Yeah, yeah. Blood, knives, murder. Real original. You’re all having fun, but what am I wearing, Angel?" His tone was lazy, but there was a glint in his eyes—a challenge.

Angel had no mercy.

The outfit she shoved into your arms? Unholy.

A sleek, gender-neutral ensemble that clung to all the right places—black leather, blood-red accents splattered across your chest like you walked out of a crime scene. The jacket? Cropped and shredded, showing just enough skin to be dangerous. Fingerless gloves, a choker with a dangling silver knife charm, and thigh straps. Why did there have to be thigh straps?!

"You’re welcome," Angel purred as you stared at yourself in the mirror, half-horrified and half-impressed.

You tried to play it cool. "You think I’m gonna wear this?"

"I think you’re gonna rock it." She gave you a once-over, biting back a smirk. "Don’t worry, darling—if the café thing tanks, you’ll have a backup career as a heartbreaker."

And, yeah. You wore it.

The moment you stepped out, your staff did a collective double take.

One of your butlers—bless his soul—whistled low. "Boss, uh… is this café legal? ‘Cause you’re about to cause crimes."

Angel winked at you from across the room, holding up two thumbs. "Looking like you’re ready to commit murder and steal some hearts. Perfect."

But nothing—nothing—prepared you for Ronin’s reaction.

He had been leaning against the counter, scrolling on his phone, but the second he saw you? His gaze dragged up from your boots to your neck, slow and heavy, like he was memorizing every inch.

And when he met your eyes?

Oh, you were screwed.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, pushing off the counter. His voice dipped, velvet smooth. "Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes, darlin’."

You tried to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck. "Don’t start."

"Can’t help it." He tilted his head, devil horns peeking through his hair. "You dress up like my next bad decision, and you expect me to behave?"

Before you could snap back, the front doors of your café burst open—and in poured a wave of customers.

Apparently, the paparazzi spotted Angel outside, and that meant the whole city wanted to be here. The crowd was ridiculous—half the people here probably couldn’t tell a latte from a cappuccino, but they definitely wanted photos with Angel.

And your café?

It was packed.

One of your waitresses rushed past, wide-eyed. "I can’t believe it—we’re trending."

Angel tossed her hair over her shoulder, all casual. "Of course we are. I’m a genius." She leaned in, voice softer. "I told you I’d fix this, babe."

You almost didn’t hear her—because Ronin was still watching you, still too close.

"You gonna keep gawking?" you muttered.

Your staff? Absolutely killing it.

Angel's twisted, bloodied aesthetic turned your struggling café into the hottest place in town. Every maid and butler was decked out in outfits straight from a killer's fever dream—splattered with fake blood, ripped in all the right places, and more than a little suggestive.

Your barista? Serial killer chic, with a blood-streaked apron and a knife tucked into their belt. One of the butlers had a leather harness over his vest, the bloodstains on his gloves just this side of illegal. Even the shyest maid—normally too nervous to hold eye contact—was working the crowd in a blood-smeared lace dress, balancing a tray of lattes while twirling a fake cleaver.

It was chaotic. It was hot. And the customers? They were eating it up.

Angel, perched at a VIP table with Ronin, looked pleased as hell. She clinked her glass against his. "I told you," she said sweetly, watching the café hum with energy. "All they needed was a little edge."

"Yeah, yeah." Ronin stretched, all lazy confidence, but his eyes hadn’t left you once. "Don’t get too smug, sweetheart. This ain’t your masterpiece."

Angel snorted. "Jealous?"

"Of you?" His smirk sharpened. "No, babe. I’m invested."

You barely had a second to breathe before one of your butlers slid up beside you, flashing a teasing grin. "Hey, boss." He tugged at the bloodied cuffs of his sleeves. "Think we’re gonna need combat pay for all these stares. Never thought working here would mean breaking hearts too."

"You’ll survive," you deadpanned, trying not to laugh.

"You sure? ‘Cause your devil boyfriend’s been glaring holes through anyone who looks at you too long." He tilted his head toward Ronin, who—yeah—was definitely watching you with that lazy, heavy-lidded gaze.

Ronin caught you looking. And winked.

Your heart did a stupid, traitorous flip.

Angel’s plan wasn’t just working—it was thriving. The line outside wrapped around the block. Your social media was blowing up. Every time a customer left, they posted pictures of the blood-soaked, dangerously hot staff, tagging the café with captions like:

"Who knew horror could be this hot?? #SinfulCafe #KillerVibes"

"Maid cafés are cute—this one’s a crime scene and I’m obsessed."

Angel didn’t just post it—she made a whole event out of it.

The photo? Flawless.

A perfectly curated shot of the café’s chaos—bloodied maids, dangerously hot butlers, and you at the center, caught mid-laugh. You were leaning back against the counter, still wearing the killer-chic outfit she picked, the fake blood on your collar making you look like you just stepped out of a slasher movie.

He was right beside you, one hand casually draped around your waist, head tilted close—like he wasn’t just near you, but claiming you. His usual sharp-edged smirk was in full force, the kind that promised trouble.

The caption?

"Blood, guts, and a little bit of love~ ❤️🍷 @SinfulCafe is OPEN. Come for the coffee, stay for the danger. #KillerVibes #SinfulCafe #MariaDelRosa"

And that name—Maria Del Rosa—was all the hook anyone needed.

Because if there was one thing Angel knew how to do, it was make a scandal.

Maria Del Rosa wasn’t just a pop sensation—she was controversy in high heels, and Angel had just hinted to her millions of followers that this café was her new obsession.

The second the post went live, your notifications exploded.

"Wait—Maria Del Rosa is hanging out at a haunted café?!"

"Angel really said blood is the new black, huh?"

Your café was trending before you could even process it—news outlets were already picking it up, hyping the place as a “celebrity hideout with a bloody twist.”

You were working, Ronin said he had a work.

Your brain short-circuited.

Ronin. In the maid outfit.

Cat ears. Tail. Bloodied knife.

What the actual hell.

And he was working—or, well, his version of it. Strutting through the café like he owned the place, giving the new customers a devil’s welcome with that lazy, sharp-edged grin that promised a good time… or a terrible mistake.

“Welcome to Sinful Café,” he drawled, voice dripping with mock sweetness as he leaned down toward a table of wide-eyed customers. “Order fast, darlings… or else.” He spun the fake knife between his fingers like he was born with it, flashing his fangs in a grin as one girl nearly fainted.

The whole café was staring—even your staff was frozen, whispering among themselves like he was some kind of exotic attraction.

Someone even whipped out their phone—you heard the camera shutters, the murmurs of, “Holy shit, is he part of the show?!” and “I will sell my soul to be stepped on—”

You barely processed any of it because, goddamn, he looked good.

The maid dress hugged him in all the right places—short enough to tease but just messy enough with the blood splatters to make him look like he walked out of a horror fantasy. The cat ears twitched as he tilted his head toward a customer who was too stunned to speak.

“Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” he purred.

You clutched the counter to stay upright.

And then—he caught you staring.

That slow, dangerous smile of his stretched wider, and he sauntered over like he had all the time in the world. Each step was deliberate, and you swore half the café was tracking his movements.

He leaned down, voice just for you this time. “What’s wrong, darlin’? Gonna break another glass lookin’ at me like that?”

Your throat dried. “I—uh—why—” Words? Who needed them? Not you apparently.

He tilted your chin up with the tip of the bloody knife (prop… hopefully), his crimson-painted nails brushing your skin. "Luca dared me," he admitted, way too pleased with himself. "Thought I’d… liven the place up."

Liven it up?! You wanted to scream. The café was practically vibrating with energy—the air buzzing with whispers and cameras flashing.

“Gotta admit,” he continued, studying your face, “it’s worth it just to see you blush like that. Thought you liked the attention?”

“I—I do, but—” You swallowed, heat crawling up your neck as his eyes dropped—lingering low before meeting yours again. "This is different."

Ronin chuckled low in his throat, pulling back slightly—but not before dragging the blunt edge of the knife down your chest in one slow line. "Different’s good, sweetheart. Keeps things… interesting."

And just when you thought you’d survive—

He winked. "Anything for you, boss."

Your heart? Gone. Dead. Buried.

You tried—really tried—to be normal about it.

But how the hell were you supposed to act normal when Ronin looked like that?

The cat ears, the tail, the scandalously short maid dress—it was criminal how good he looked. The lace edging flirted with his thighs every time he moved, and the fake blood on his apron wasn’t helping your sanity. And the knife? Oh, the knife. He spun it like a promise, the gleam catching the light as if it were taunting you.

You sucked in a breath, gripping the counter for dear life, because if you didn’t hold onto something, you were going to lose it.

Meanwhile, Ronin? Completely unbothered—in fact, he seemed to be having the time of his life. He strolled through the café like a devil on holiday, sending playful winks and lazy smirks to anyone brave (or stupid) enough to stare too long.

And, oh—they were staring.

Your staff? Losing it. You caught two maids whispering frantically behind a menu, eyes wide as they tracked his every move. A butler actually dropped a tray, the clatter nearly drowned out by the murmurs rippling through the café.

The customers? Even worse.

“I didn’t know this was a thing,” one girl gasped, clutching her friend’s arm. “I’d pay extra if he threatened me,” her friend muttered, practically drooling.

Your jaw clenched. Oh, hell no.

You tried—really—to be professional, plastering on a smile as you took an order from a table. But your focus kept slipping. Your eyes? Betraying you. Every time you glanced up, he was there—a walking distraction with legs far too long and a smirk far too dangerous.

And he knew it.

You caught him watching you—his golden eyes sharp, hungry, and just a little too pleased with himself. When your eyes met, he tilted his head, the black cat ears twitching with the motion.

The knife twirled in his fingers. Slow. Deliberate.

A tease—just for you.

“Something on your mind, darlin’?” His voice slid across the café, smooth and dark, cutting through the buzz of conversation like silk over a blade.

Your stomach flipped. You scrambled for composure, tossing him a glare. “Stop that.”

His grin only widened. “Stop what? Bein’ cute?” He took a step closer—too close—until the counter was the only thing between you. He leaned in, the scent of leather and something dangerous curling around you. “Can’t help it. It’s natural.”

You huffed, face burning. “You’re gonna give someone a heart attack.”

He chuckled low in his throat, dragging the blunt edge of the knife along his lip in a way that should’ve been illegal. “Long as it’s not yours, we’re fine, sugar.”

You were not surviving this day.

Especially when you noticed the way everyone else was looking at him. Customers whispering, staff swooning—hell, you spotted a person blatantly checking him out,

Your eye twitched.

Mine.

The thought flared up so fast it startled you—but, God, you weren’t wrong.

And Ronin? He must’ve caught the flash of jealousy in your eyes because the next thing you knew, he was sliding closer—too close—the tip of the knife brushing against your wrist where you clutched the counter.

“Careful, sweetheart.” His voice dipped lower—private, rough around the edges. “Keep lookin’ at me like that, and I’ll think you’re jealous.”

Your heart pounded. “I am not jealous.”

“Mm.” He didn’t believe you for a second. “Coulda fooled me. Don’t worry, darlin’. No one else gets me like you do."

Asshole.

And when you didn’t answer, too busy trying not to combust, he reached up—bopped your nose—and laughed.

“You’re cute when you pout.”

You slammed your hands on the counter—loud—loud enough to cut through the chatter and grab everyone’s attention.

“The café is closed due to… due to a food shortage!” You snapped, a little too fast, a little too sharp.

A blatant lie—there were plenty of pastries in the back, and you knew it. But if you had to watch one more person drool over Ronin in that damn maid outfit, you were going to start flipping tables.

The crowd groaned in disappointment but no one moved—because, of course, they didn’t. Not when Ronin stood there like a walking sin, twirling his knife with that easy, flirtatious grace.

One girl, practically vibrating, tilted her head with wide eyes. “But… can we stay if we’re just… watching?”

Watching?!

You nearly choked. What the hell—was he a café attraction now? A sideshow? What, were people going to start tipping him for existing?

Meanwhile, Ronin? That bastard was eating it up.

“Aw, sugar, you closin’ up so soon?” He purred, leaning against the counter, his black cat tail curling playfully behind him. His gaze flicked over you—slow, heavy, dangerous—and he grinned like he was born to be a problem. “Guess I’ll have to entertain ‘em while you’re bein’ stingy.”

Oh, hell no.

And as if the universe hadn’t tortured you enough, someone from the back whistled—a low, appreciative sound—and you caught at least three people whispering about how “mysterious and hot” he was.

You snapped.

“Out.” Your voice cracked through the air like a whip, sharp enough to make the nearest table flinch. “We are closed—I don’t care if God himself walks in here; you’re all leaving.”

A mix of grumbling and disappointment filled the room as the customers reluctantly shuffled toward the exit, throwing longing glances at Ronin as they went. One particularly bold person actually slipped a phone number onto the counter—for Ronin.

The audacity.

You snatched the paper before he could see it and crumpled it into your fist. No way in hell. Not on your watch.

Finally, the door closed behind the last customer, the bell jingling softly in the silence.

You exhaled hard, pressing a hand to your chest to keep your jealous heart from exploding. Peace. At last.

…Until you realized Ronin was still there, watching you with the smuggest look you’d ever seen. His golden eyes glittered with pure, unfiltered amusement—like he knew exactly what game you were playing.

“You okay there, sweetheart?” he drawled, pushing off the counter to prowl closer, the hem of the maid skirt dangerously high with each step. “Seemed a little… possessive."

“I’m not,” you lied—poorly. Your voice cracked on the last word.

He tilted his head, the black cat ears twitching like he was enjoying every second of your unraveling. “Really? ‘Cause it kinda felt like you wanted to throw hands back there.”

“I’m not jealous!” You blurted, too loud—too defensive.

“Mm-hm.” He stopped right in front of you, towering over you in those ridiculous cat ears and lace. The fake blood on his apron only made him look more dangerous, more irresistible. “Y’know, darlin’, if you wanted my attention that bad…” He lowered his voice, rough and teasing. “…you just had to ask.”

You narrowed your eyes, heat flooding your face. “You think you’re so funny.”

“Only ‘cause I am.” His grin turned wicked. “C’mon, admit it—you liked it. Me in this little thing?” He gave the hem of the maid skirt a taunting tug, showing a sinful hint of thigh. “Drives you crazy, huh?”

“You drive me crazy,” you snapped, but your gaze dipped—traitorously—to his legs. “And put your knife down before you stab someone.”

His chuckle was low and dangerous, vibrating straight through your bones. “Careful, darlin’. If I didn’t know better…” He leaned in, lips hovering by your ear, breath warm against your skin. “…I’d think you were jealous of everyone checkin’ me out.”

You swallowed hard, pulse pounding. “I’m not jealous,” you muttered, glaring at his smirk. “I just… I didn’t like it.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Didn’t like what?”

“Them.” You huffed, pushing at his chest—bad idea—because the second your fingers touched the soft lace of the dress, he caught your wrist. “I didn’t like them looking at you.”

For a beat, he didn’t move—just stared at you, his expression shifting into something slower, heavier. And when he spoke next, his voice was different—still teasing, but laced with something else beneath the surface.

“Aw, sugar…” He lifted your hand to his lips, brushing a feather-light kiss across your knuckles. “You don’t gotta be jealous. They can look all they want, but…” His smile softened—just a little—and his black eyes locked with yours. “…I’m yours.”

You screamed—a full, undignified scream—so loud it echoed through the empty café. Your legs buckled beneath you from the sheer force of your overheated brain trying to process what had just happened.

And, of course, because the universe was cruel, you nearly ate the floor—until Ronin caught you.

With one hand.

On your waist.

And, oh God, the maid outfit—you could feel the lace brushing against your skin as he held you steady. His grip was firm, possessive, like he had no intention of letting go anytime soon.

“You good there, darlin’?” His voice was warm—too warm—smug as hell, but there was something else underneath it. Something sincere, something dangerous.

You opened your mouth—probably to yell again—but your words died in your throat because suddenly, he kissed you.

Soft at first—too soft—like he was testing if you’d push him away. But when you didn’t—when you clung to him like you’d lose your mind if he stopped—he deepened it. His free hand slid to the small of your back, tugging you flush against him, and you swear you could feel the flick of his damn cat tail brushing your leg.

When he pulled back, his lips were curved in a lazy, satisfied smile. “Told ya,” he murmured, his voice rough and teasing, “I’m yours.”

Your brain? Mush. Gone. Obliterated.

The only thing you could do was stare at him—scandalized, flustered, and very much not okay.

And he knew it.

The next day?

Chaos. Absolute chaos.

Your café? Blown up—not literally, but it might as well have been. Thanks to Angel’s post, it had gone viral overnight. The hashtag #SinfulCafe was trending, and you had a line stretching around the block before you even opened.

And the worst part?

The photo posted—the one everyone was losing their minds over—wasn’t even of her.

It was of him.

Ronin, in the bloody maid outfit, mid-stride with that devil-may-care smirk, twirling his knife like he was about to cut someone’s heart out—and everyone wanted a piece.

Customers wouldn’t stop asking about the “maid guy”—some even left love letters at the counter, like he was some kind of celebrity crush. And Ronin? That bastard was loving every second of it. Happy news is The photos people posted was so blurry when it had his face.

No one sees your man.

At one point, he leaned against the counter, watching you scramble around with the sweetest, most infuriating grin on his face.

“Y’know,” he drawled, spinning a fake blood-covered spoon between his fingers, “if I knew wearin’ a little lace would get you this riled up, I’d’ve done it sooner.”

You threw a dish towel at his head. He caught it without looking—because of course, he did.

When you finally had a moment to breathe, you flopped onto a chair in the break room and opened your phone.

The server was on fire—everyone was still buzzing about the café, Angel’s post, and him.

You typed out a quick message:

YOU: @angelicc I owe you one. Seriously. Thanks for saving my ass.

A second later, Angel replied:

ANGELICC: lmao anytime, babe 💋 but let’s be real—u should be thanking me for putting u two in the same room long enough to FINALLY KISS.

Your face burned.

LUCA: wait wait WAIT??? U TWO KISSED???

FELICITE: They WHAT.

You: Aren't we already in a relationship?

You groaned, slamming your forehead against the table while your notifications exploded.

Goreboy: They act like everything is a horror.

Of course, it was him.

Every single photo—every—one of that viral post had his face conveniently blurred or cropped just enough to keep his identity a mystery. Fans online were already obsessing over the “Sinful Butcher Maid,” speculating who he was, but no one had a clear shot.

And you? You were suspicious.

So, naturally, you DM’d him.

YOU: okay, be honest. is this YOUR doing??

It took him exactly thirty seconds to respond—because, of course, he was waiting.

Goreboy: obviously.

You rolled your eyes. Of course.

YOU: why tho?? u love attention. don’t lie.

Goreboy: babe, I know I’m hot. but I also know when to keep my shit private.

Goreboy: plus, you know how messy it’d get if people started recognizing me? one glimpse of this face and your lil’ café turns into a damn crime scene.

You snorted. Dramatic as always.

YOU: sooooo, u admit you’re obsessed with me enough to hide your face for my sake?

Goreboy: tsk. don’t push it, darlin’. I’m already doin’ charity work lookin’ this good in cat ears.

YOU: HA. YOU agreed to the dare, don’t even play.

Goreboy: yeah, well. someone had to save your ass, and it sure wasn’t your tragic lil’ butlers.

You couldn’t help the stupid, giddy smile pulling at your lips. For all his teasing, he was right—if Ronin hadn’t shown up (in that outfit, no less), you might’ve lost your café. And now? Business was booming.

But, still.

YOU: soooooo... u gonna wear it again?

Goreboy: you wanna see me in it again?

Your face burned.

YOU: shut up.

Goreboy: nah. you’re cute when you’re jealous.

The worst part? He was right, and he damn well knew it.

#killer chat #kc #killer chat x reader #killerchat #killer chat ronin #kc ronin #ronin beaufort #ronin x reader #kc ronin x reader #killer chat ronin x reader #killer chat vn #ronin killer chat #killer chat ronin beaufort #ronin beaufort x reader #ronin x

144 notes · View notes

etherealily · 7 months ago

Text

art // f.odair

My other Finnick fics, if you have the time.

Part 1 : Guilt Part 3 : Bets

[2/3] Long.

Finnick Odair + fem!reader. Warnings : Cuss words, SFW but discretion advised, mature themes, hurt/comfort

Desc. : The trauma card.

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

═════════════════════ ⋆🎯⋆ ══════════════════

SIX WEEKS LATER

Finnick doesn't know when it happened.

His plan had been to basically only shift Snow's focus from his family to you. You, a random stranger he could have zero ties to and could afford to lose if times got tough.

But now? His focus had been shifted from survival to you.

He finds himself mulling about, wallowing in too much sorrow to have been unnoticeable.

He didn't need this. He was already dealing with his own problems.

Thankfully, you didn't seem to have taken the ordeal during the Games too seriously, and now he was back to having only an endless string of Capitol assholes in his bed every other week.

Thankfully, because he had no idea what the hell he'd do if you actually ended up getting attached, or looking to him as some sort of protection, or actually caring or loving him - his heart couldn't take that. His conscience couldn't take that.

Or maybe, he had it all wrong.

Maybe you weren't distancing yourself because you didn't give a shit about him.

Maybe his well-being had nothing to do with this.

Maybe you were distancing yourself because you hated that Faye had died.

Right. Made more sense. What a narcissist he is.

Worst part of all this, as mentioned, was that he was actually starting to give a shit. A thing, he'd been told, he did far too often.

In the week you'd spent at the Capitol with him, he'd grown to like far too much about you.

You cared about Faye? He liked that, a lot.

You got really worried every time he came back from 'filming promos' with bruises? He liked the way you tried helping the only way you could. Which was, apparently, trying to take his mind off of it by regaling him with the mundanities of a day in your life back in Four.

But what he especially liked was that you didn't absolutely lose your shit in laughter when he held your hand in his sleep. He figured you'd pull away. He figured you'd snort and call him a baby.

But you didn't.

You didn't just let him, you allowed him, which, in honesty, only Finnick knew best how different those two were.

And he loved you all the more for it.

Liked. He liked you all the more for it.

"Hey.", he says, looking up from his rope to you.

He loves when he gets to come back to Four, but what he loves most is when he gets to come back to you.

Because you understood. You didn't understand the full extent of what he went through at the Capitol, but you'd spent enough time there to know that it wasn't really a place you could miss.

"Hi, Finnick.", you reply, sitting by him. "You don't get rope burn?"

"I do. But check this out.", he boasts, baring his calloused, red palms to you. "Scars of a warrior. And...", he begins, tugging on the ends of the knot and tightening it, "...knot of a warrior. It's impossible to undo. Try, c'mon."

"I'll take your word for it."

He shrugs, gently tossing the rope down and listening to the soft shift of sand to make space for it. See, he'd always loved this about sand. Always, always made space for anything. No matter how pathetic. How broken. How sinful.

"I was thinking."

You look up from the rope on the sand beside your feet up to his eyes. "Mhm?"

"Maybe... y'know, only if you're interested... I mean, I'll teach you how to take photos.", he says, coolly, his dimpled grin coming in to save the day, his sea-green eyes running over your face desperately, and his sun-touched hair being moved by the wind and placed elegantly in front of those very eyes.

"With your camera?"

"What else?"

"I just... you're really protective over it."

"No, I'm not."

"You slept hugging it."

"Well, yeah, 'cause you were in the Viewing Room, and I-"

He decides it's best to shut up then.

"I'm not protective over my camera. Do you wanna learn or not?"

"Sure."

═════════════════════ ⋆🎯⋆ ══════════════════

That night sees him leaning back on the couch, welling up with tears of laughter as you struggled to hold the fucking thing properly. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!", he yells between laughs as he sees you pissed and threatening to smash the camera.

"How hard is it? C'mon, cradle the camera with your left, Y/N. Cradle, like a baby!"

"That's not how I would hold a baby!"

"How would you hold a baby?"

You demonstrate what you'd done when you'd had to babysit, and he bursts out into further hysterics, placing his glass of whiskey down as you pick up yours to take an irritated sip.

"That's very motherly, but it's not going to get you any photos."

"Well, fuck photos then!"

He raises a brow, watching as you come sit by him, placing his chin in your shoulder and looking down with you at the camera in your lap. "You sure? Don't you want to make art?", he asks, a wisp of wonder in his tone.

"Fuck art."

"Fucking can be art."

"Sex is not art, okay?!"

Who the hell were you trying to convince? Finnick 'Capitol Whore' Odair?

"What is it then?"

"I dunno, like, a way to have a baby?"

"Really? So that's the only reason you'd have sex? It's a means to reproduce?"

See in theory, yes, you knew that it wasn't, but you had never thought of any other purpose for it. Because when push came to shove, even if you were in District 4, the possibility of mortality hang over all your heads everyday. Not really top priority to think of fucking.

"Well, yeah! Why else would you? You need to keep population up or the Peacekeepers-"

He nods, closing his eyes as though he finally understood why you said what you said. "Ah. You're thinking of Panem."

"Don't we live here?"

"They don't do population checks."

"But I heard-"

"I know what you heard. Trust me, your service is not required. Other districts are doing a good enough job keeping the remains of humanity booming in number."

You sigh. You're not getting out of this until he's changed your take on sex, that's clear.

"You can't possibly think sex is only for giving birth."

"Finnick, stop."

"No, seriously. Imagine a canvas, right?"

"Okay."

"Paintbrushes. A curve of paint, a flick of your wrist, a deep stroke across the canvas."

"Mhm."

His voice drops to a barely audible whisper and it makes your toes curl. In a very good way. "Now", he breathes, "Imagine the canvas is skin."

That pretty much did it for you. He achieved it.

"Finnick."

He hums, almost laughing, but not quite. "Just listen. Eyes closed."

You obey, because when Finnick Odair asks you to listen to him verbally fuck you, you do.

═════════════════════ ⋆★⋆ ══════════════════

Yep. Sex is art.

And you were covered filthy with his words.

But to his credit, yes, they did help you take good pictures.

They also made you wonder why the hell someone who described sex so intimately and preciously would fuck everything with a pulse in the Capitol.

He frowns from the bed, where he sits shirtless with his arm on his knee, posing for you. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

"Okay, so, me."

Fuck.

"That's what's blocking your art, so just get it out. Ask me whatever."

"Okay, how many times a week do you have sex?", you scoff. Should serve him right for asking you to ask him a-

"Five."

"Five? FIVE?"

"Well, I mean.... technically zero." He tenses up.

"What? Wait, that doesn't make sense."

"Look, sex and fucking are different! Sex is more intimate! Okay, look, I just think if you don't see the art and the beauty in everything we do, then it's just... life becomes mundane! Painful, even."

"Yeah. Yeah. Okay."

He's about to riot. Why weren't you pushing?

"Seriously. I just can't... I can't be without assuming everything happens to eventually become art. It hurts if I don't."

You nod and he breaks. Boundaries are only required when he wants them to be. And right now, he's in the mood to spill his brains to you. He's in the mood to bare his soul to you.

"Uh... you know, uh, we should go back to-"

"NO, Y/N. Listen!", he pleads. He doesn't want your usually welcome distractions - not now - and he doesn't want a palate cleanser. He wants you, he realizes, horrifyingly.

"What?"

"I don't... I've never had sex. But I've fucked. You know what I mean?"

You... kind of seem to, but he's not sure. You look like you're treading ice, walking on eggshells around him, which he doesn't blame you for. He hasn't forgotten his outburst the first night you'd met.

"So... you get it?"

You shake your head, and he's mildly relieved. Good. You didn't get it. He'd spoken without thinking, and he didn't want to make himself filthy in your eyes. Not that he was some angel now, either - he saw the way you still looked at him. Sellout, your gaze scolded him.

"It's okay. I didn't really expect you to."

"Why not?"

He inhales and shakes his head, shrugging. "Context? Or, rather, lack thereof."

"I mean, why would you fuck people you didn't want to be intimate with?"

He's aware that the laugh that follows is only exacerbating your confusion, but you'd genuinely, genuinely, amused him. Because you were basically him before the Capitol. Wide-eyed, not entirely innocent, but definitely not well-versed with the world.

You were him and yet also the polar opposite.

Patting the spot on the bed next to him after shifting a couple of roses away, Finnick watches as you tentatively place the camera down safely first before sitting next to it. Fuck.

"Are you confused?"

You look up at him totally normally, unsuspecting, and trusting, worst of all, and he swears he's about to kill himself.

"What?"

"Are you confused?"

"Yeah, like, I don't know what this button does-"

"No, no, I mean... about what I said."

You pause. Yes. "I mean, slightly, but you don't have to talk if you don't want to."

"Do you want to hear it?"

You frown, and he tsks in urgency, his hands on your shoulders. "Do you want to hear it?"

You nod vehemently and he lets go.

═════════════════════ ⋆★⋆ ══════════════════

You're pretty sure it's three am by the time he's asleep. And it's in your arms. Tell twelve year old you that. She'd riot. She'd scream.

Finnick Odair's just bared his soul to you and now, he was utterly vulnerable.

You can't really fall asleep, not after that. Not after knowing that the lanky fourteen year old you'd hero-worshipped on TV when you were eleven had been forced into a room with a Capitol pervert two days later.

You look down. He's twenty-one. He's been doing this shit for seven years. Three years short of a decade. You look back up, at the wall in front of you, and although you can't help it, you get visions. Your mind conjures up its own versions of what happened to him, and you pull him just that much closer.

And that was impossible. Because he's only a couple rules-of-physics away from genuinely melting into you. He no longer seems to feel the need to hold your fingers, and instead, has wrapped himself around your torso and plans to stay there.

Fine by you.

You rest your head back against the headboard. He'd seemed to have struggled, opening up. He'd seemed to not know what to say at all and simultaneously not know where to start first.

You look down again, searching for the ocean in his eyes. Not there. Good, he's still asleep. You don't even feel the regret that you're supposed to feel for judging him, for insinuating that he slept around simply because he could. You can't feel that regret, not when so much anger overtook you.

The gold of his hair spews out from between your fingers, and you find yourself moving your fingers lower, down to the curve of his forehead, the dip of his nose, the plush of his lips, the turn of his jawline.

Beauty is rewarding to everyone else but its owner.

Your thumb rubs over his cheek and you sigh.

It all seems to make sense now, honestly. Why he chose someone from his District to photograph instead of from the Capitol. Why he hasn't been a complete asshole to you.

The white roses in every photo. You'd seen Snow wearing them before.

═════════════════════ ⋆★⋆ ══════════════════

Finnick wakes up much earlier than he usually does when he's at the Capitol, but then again, he preferred to relish every moment he could spend back in the District.

The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is your hand.

He'd ended up sleeping in your arms, and you, being utterly, stupidly considerate, hadn't moved an inch.

He gently pries himself away from your arms, attempting to move your head down to the pillow instead of the neck-sprain-inducing position you'd assumed on the headboard. You seem more comfortable on the pillow.

His pillow, his mind notes, though he has no idea why.

The morning air outside beckons him to move closer to the sea. No one, not even Snow himself could stop him from this call.

He quickly freshens up, brushes, washes his face and then he practically soars out to the sea.

The water engulfs him, but it feels more like an embrace. An embrace that, not an hour ago, you'd had him in. He momentarily, terrifyingly considers basking in it for eternity. Letting the water hug him into oblivion. But no. His family's out there. You're out there.

He smooths his hair out, and squints out into the horizon. I mean, he could just go. Only if he managed to get past Panem borders, but if he did manage that? God, would he be set!

He could live out the rest of his days never having to see a rose again.

He could live out the rest of his days painting, photographing, he could maybe even build a boat.

He doesn't know how to build a boat.

But that doesn't matter.

Because he could do anything he fucking wanted. For once, his life would be his.

He turns his head shorewards, expecting the sharp disappointment of being ripped away from his fantasies, but instead, he finds you there. You wave and he basically sprints underwater to reach you.

"The water's amazing, come in!"

"I can't, not this early in the morning!", you call back out.

He almost asks why, but he doesn't want to pressure you. Not everyone can comprehend the beauty of an open, vast, unforgiving and unbiased sea. One that, just like sand, doesn't discriminate in its cruelty.

He'd rather unbiased cruelty than biased adoration.

Such comprehension only stems from trauma. Trauma that he would never wish upon you. He'd never wish it upon his worst ene- no. No, no. He wishes trauma upon Snow. 100%.

"What are you doing today?!"

"I've got to buy things for my home and then I've got tutoring!"

He loves the mundanity of it all. The way you almost grumble as you say it. The way it seems like you also want to just spend the rest of the day lounging with him.

After a moment, he asks, "Can I come with?!"

You look so pleasantly surprised by that, like you think it's a joke that you haven't understood, but his expectant look finally tells you it's not.

"Why!?"

He smiles, lifting his hands up in a comically exaggerated shrug that sends water droplets flying to his sides. "'Cause I can!"

It's mildly unsettling to him how normal you're being. He's pretty sure the whiskey and the tension of last night brought to light things he'd much rather muffle into the dark, but you don't seem affected.

In fact, you seem sort of relieved. Like you've finally understood something that had been bothering you for a while.

You probably think you know exactly why he'd suddenly brought you into his life, and that's what brings him back to reality.

He's still using you. The whole thing about his trauma? Wasn't that basically to get suspicion off him? Maybe that's why he did it.

His mood now soured by his own doing, he essentially stomps out of the water and slumps next to you, trying to ignore the familiar discomfort of wet sand on his skin.

Wet sand that you pick off for him. Fuck.

You couldn't be a bitch, could you?

If you'd been a bitch, this would be so much easier.

But no. You apparently had be fucking extraordinary, didn't you?

"You're actually coming to the market?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"And then tutoring?"

"I'm older and wiser, Y/N. I could probably tutor better than you. Also, I can actually hold a camera."

"Wow, so that's how it is. Ad hominem remarks."

It's embarrassing, to say the least, that after talking such a big talk about wisdom, he doesn't know what 'ad hominem' means.

"Yeah. That's how it is." Cop-outs are always effective in such situations.

You snort, moving your foot back and forth in an arch. "Finnick?"

He hums. "Have you ever needed Tesserae? Like, before the Games."

He nods. "Yeah. Once. It was a very bad storm, so fishing wasn't really going well."

"It's funny, Faye never needed Tesserae. I mean, her family did, but obviously they didn't want it to go into her name. So she was clean. But she still... y'know."

"I want to say something about fate, but I'm not sure it applies here.", he says.

"No, it does."

"How so?"

"I've been looking at it kind of... harshly, but it helps.", you say, turning to the sea in front of you. He briefly wonders whether the orange horizon reflected in your eyes brings forth the same daydreams that he just had, in your mind.

"I just figure... it's probably written in stone that she has to participate in the Games. Maybe it was just a matter of when. Maybe this was a kindness done by God, or the universe or something. So that she had less memories, less to leave behind."

He bites the inside of his cheek. "So you're saying that she died so young because it would have been harder if she had died when she was older, with more memories with the people she loved?"

"It sounds terrible, but it was something my elementary teacher told us, when we were first taught about the Games."

He nods, trying to plead with the horizon to give him something to say.

"That was a shitty way to start the morning. Sorry.", you mutter, and he aggressively shakes his head.

"Shit's on your mind, but it doesn't have to stay there, okay?"

You nod. "How is it we're not hungover?"

He raises a brow. "Sea air. Does wonders."

"I live way too far inland, then. Should just stay in the Victor's Village forever."

"Yeah, you should. You got kids in your family?"

"Yeah, my niece and nephew, why?"

"Bring 'em all here, they can actually have a childhood with the sea thirty paces away. I'll teach them stuff. Rope tying, swimming, shit like that."

You smile softly, and it makes the sea air sweeter for him.

The words are left unsaid on both your tongues. They can have a childhood until eleven.

"I'm sure they'd love it if you could teach them."

He tries not to notice the cameras in the distance behind you, but it's really fucking hard.

"We should go."

"Why? It's nice, and I've got...", you reply, looking down at your watch, "...like, a half hour left before I need to go."

"No, let's go."

You figure that, since this wasn't a common occurrence, there was a reason for the roughness with which he led you back inside.

"You gonna tell me what that was about?", you ask as he picks out an apple from one of the adoring fruit bowls someone has sent him.

You've become bolder, grown more of a spine, but asking him this terrifies you, for some reason. Probably because you know he'll tell you the truth.

"There were cameras."

"Aren't you used to it?"

He tosses the apple up in the air and catches it before he washes it in the sink, turning to you as he takes a bite. "But are you?"

You shake your head, catching the one he washes and then throws to you the next moment.

"Exactly."

Nodding, you take a bite.

"What? What else do you have on your mind?" He reads your mind with an unsettling talent.

"What are they saying? Y'know, about us?"

"Just... you know, what you already know. That we're in love. And shit."

"You didn't want the cameras to capture the lack of love, then?"

Whoa, you were hitting hard. "Uh, no, I just thought you'd want some privacy."

"You already got me to come to the Capitol and take fake pictures to pacify Snow."

"Yeah, but-"

"So what is private about my life anymore? I didn't even know I cared so much about my privacy until it went away."

He's been there, done that.

"You're saying you want cameras on you?"

"I'm saying that from now on, they're going to be on me either way."

His chewing slows, and he nods. "Right. Sorry."

"You don't have to - you know that isn't why I said that. Don't apologise."

Alright, now he's more sure than ever that you have some skewed idea of what's going on, one that paints him as someone who accidentally got you into this mess.

Licking his lips, he moves over to place what he wants you to construe as a loving arm around the shoulder. But it's actually a guilty one. A terrified one. A fuck-if-this-goes-south-I-will-lose-her one.

He squeezes twice. "I've got you."

It's hard to say that without scoffing. He's barely got himself.

---

Finnick realizes lots of things by the end of the day.

One, if you want to go somewhere where no one cares who you are and be shoved around, it's the marketplace.

Two, you were wiser than him.

Three, your trust in him, no matter how hard you tried to hide it, was blind. Blind, and infuriatingly so.

Which is why when he finally dropped you home, you said something that, if you didn't have blind trust in him, would have immediately sent of warning bells in your head that he was an absolute asshole who was using you.

"Peacekeepers seem to have multiplied around here."

And his instinctual reply should have been enough to make you realize his entire plan and scorn him to hell.

"Yeah, they used to circle around mine more."

Yep. His plan had worked. Snow had begun to send him silent warnings that now, if he didn't do as he said, the "love of his life" would be killed.

And he didn't know if it was relief or sadism, but momentarily, he found a slight bit of joy that his family wasn't the one under more immediate threat than you.

God, he was such a bad fucking person.

"Maybe they're there to protect me.", you scoff, and he laughs, following you into your house and locking the fucking door.

"Yes, President Snow is known for his extraordinary empathy."

"Is he going to threaten to kill me if you don't... y'know?"

He nods. "Yeah, but I'm used to it. And you'll be safe, trust me."

"I don't want to if you aren't. I can't live with that knowledge.", you say, pursing your lips as you place the items on the kitchen counter.

He looks around and his environment aligns with what he expected a house with two kids to look like. "Where's everyone?"

"There's some school thing. Something to honor Faye and Kai, so my family's not here."

"You didn't go?"

"I don't know if I can.", you respond, shrugging.

He sighs, sitting on the chair while you perch up on the counter, his forearm grazing the side of your knee. "She was lovely."

You nod. "She'd have loved this."

"Loved what?"

"Busy days. She was a tiny bit weird like that. She liked having something to do, and had a whole itinerary planned."

He chuckles incredulously. "Yeah, right. She was thirteen."

"No, she came by every weekend, knocking on my door and telling me the time slots for tutoring. I'm not kidding."

"Oh my god.", he remarks, shaking his head.

"She was so neurotic, in the best way. Said she loved being able to crash into bed after being productive the whole day."

He grins. "She sounds amazing. I wish I got more time with her."

You shake your head. "Wouldn't ever be enough."

He stands, pressing his forehead against yours. "I'm sorry."

The only two words he has the right to say to you, and the two you keep rejecting, cluelessly.

"What?"

"I should've done better."

"You did the best you could. Sometimes, even District 1 Careers die."

It kills him that you think he's talking about the Games.

You look at each other for a while, and he frowns softly before his eyes move to your mouth. His lips follow soon after.

He kisses you, and then pulls away, making sure you're not absolutely repulsed, and you don't seem to be, and so he keeps going, his hands on the back of your neck, in your hair.

You're kissing back. "That's all that matters", he thinks, rubbing his thumb across your cheek.

No repulsion.

Not yet, anyway. Because right before the kiss, he'd noticed something that you hadn't, right outside, pointing straight at you.

Cameras.

God, he was such a bad. fucking. person.

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beepartcollection · 5 months ago

Note

The Conagher family art was delightful! Any head cannons or other family moments for them that you can think of?

Yeah! :D

Radigan was present in Engie's childhood, a lot of people forget he had a small cache of Australium given by definitely not The Administrator Elizabeth, so I think he lived well past the expected age of the time and of a human by rationing it (after that bender when he first got it and stuff, as we see in the Engie update promo stuff), and while he did use his time to raise Dell and hone his innate genius he also used it for shennaniganery because Dell idolizes him.

I think Radigan's death was just him deciding aight, I'm done, time to go; that Conhager pride wearing out. Cause after a point his Australium reserves had to have run out, and acquiring more was nigh impossible due to the extremely tight supply and high demand. Plus, I imagine it sucks living in a world completely different from the one you know and all your friends being dead or hiding. I can see him hosting a 'going away' party and using the last bit of Australium to make himself young again, al la the Admin at the end of comic 6. Which also means Engie knew exactly how long Admin has left cause he's seen it.

Back to Radigan and Fred, I think Radigan married solely cause it was The Thing To Do in his time, and from his wife's perspective, marrying a guy who will be in his workshop 90% of the time and has infinite money and is a well mannered gentleman? Sure hell yeah. Hell it might've been an amicable agreement between Rad and his wife. I do think both of them didn't really give Fred much attention though, busy with their own lives.

Though when Dell was born, all focus went on him, cause Fred wanted to give him all his love and be the best dad ever and Radigan was retired by this point and if he's gonna die soon may as well mentor his grandson. And spoil him. Fred's kinda jealous. Plus I think Engie took to maths like a fish to water.

And of course, trains. They love em. Have over $10 mil in train stuff in the basement. When Engie was old enough they showed him the train models, so he could get inspired and build his own, big happy family :3

#my art #beepartcollection #tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 engineer #tfc engineer #tf2 radigan

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billiesoxytocin · 2 months ago

Text

the intern pt. 1: c’mon, pretty girl.

pairing: billie eilish x female reader

summary: reader is an intern at universal music, helping out for a promo shoot in the umg office. she's a crazed billie fan, but keeps quiet and to herself because she's shy. but billie notices her still. and she knew she #neededthat. mostly plot building. flirting. fangirling. pining. tension.

warnings: none! (yet)

word count: 2.2k read pt 2 here!

"y/n, could you help me diffuse the light please," sarah, your colleague, asks you softly amongst the mumbling and shuffling of the rest of the crew prepping for today's shoot.

you simply nodded, quickly moving to catch up to everybody else's pace in the studio. it was one of those days where a celebrity comes into the universal music office to shoot promo videos.

you've been on this internship for a little over 5 months now, and you've met plenty of celebrities on this job. you've gotten kinda used to it by now.

but today.

today.

the moment the assignment came in that you would be part of the crew for billie fucking eilish... you could not find yourself to do any other thing on your to-do list that day.

"you nervous?" sarah asks you, a small smile playing on her lips as her gaze stayed locked onto the clipboard in her hands.

you turned towards her and let out a sigh, causing her to look up at you. you looked at her with a pleading look, almost as if begging her to get you out of this assignment. you genuinely do not think you could handle being in the same room as billie.

all she does is chuckle, knowing full well of this unhealthy obsession with billie that you've had and made known since your first week here.

"relax, tiny. you'll be fine, billie's chill," she says as if it was the most casual thing in the world.

billie's chill? you didn't even think billie was real until today!

"god help me," you groaned, going to do some final touches onto the couch that billie will be sitting on, puffing the cushions and dusting it off.

sarah just chuckles once again, shaking her head in amusement. "okay, y/n. you'll be on cam b today yeah? standby please."

you nodded and took your spot behind the camera, checking everything that needed to be checked.

soon enough, the glass doors of the office opens, and loud murmuring fills the air of the studio. what seemed like a swarm of people enters the studio, and you could feel your heart nearly leaping out of your chest with the anticipation of seeing the woman you've had the biggest crush on in real life for the first time.

"helloooo universal family!" a familiar, low but cheery voice filled your ears, and you felt your heart stop.

your hands and eyes pretended to be busy with the camera, absolutely refusing to look up at the team.

a chorus of greetings filled the room, some exchanging hugs and handshakes. all you could afford to do was look up once or twice and give a small smile as a greeting.

other than the fact that billie fucking eilish was in front of your eyes, you were a complete introvert. and extremely socially awkward. so this situation was absolute hell for you.

you glanced up from the camera once and immediately regretted the decision when you found yourself making eye contact with billie herself. she was standing by the couch, her straight raven hair falling loosely down her back, hands stuffed in the pockets of her cargo pants.

she flashed you a smile, and you swore you felt your knees getting weak just slightly. oh she was so, so much prettier in person. you felt yourself melting at the sight of her, smiling at you like that.

billie had come round the universal office numerous times in the past. but she had never seen you before. she was…. intrigued.

to be frank, you were the first person she noticed when she walked into the studio. as she was greeting everybody else, she was just waiting for you to come and say hi. but you were so preoccupied with the god damn camera.

you pursed your lips in a small smile, nodding your head once in acknowledgement. billie smirked slightly, immediately noticing your shy demeanor.

“okay billie, you can make yourself comfortable on the couch. just let us know when you’re ready,” sarah announced.

billie nods, taking her place on the couch. “okay m’comfy. ready whenever,” she chirps as she wiggles her butt on the couch (in attempt to show her getting comfy)

she’s so cute.

“DOPs cue me please,” sarah says.

“cam A…rolling”

you cleared your throat as you pressed the red button on the camera, “cam B rolling.”

a slight smile played on billie’s lips, finally being able to hear your voice for the first time. and you swore you caught it through the camera viewfinder.

sarah starts the shoot, prompting billie to say different lines and getting her to answer certain questions. you started to tune out from whatever was being said. you were locked in, eyes locked on the viewfinder to make sure the shots you got were optimal.

but as much as you tried to focus on the camera and the shot, you couldn’t help but simply think about how attractive she was. the little things she does when she’s listening or when she’s thinking. the way she pokes her tongue through her cheek, the way she licks her lips, the way she adjusts her glasses when they’re falling, the way she stares directly into sarah as she’s speaking. God, you wish you were her instead.

“what’s one thing younger billie would be thanking you for right now?”

you watch as she licks the front of her teeth as she sucks in a breath, thinking of an answer.

“she’d be thanking me for… all the good sex i’ve had.”

you choked on your own spit upon hearing her explicit answer. loudly. heads turned towards you in both concern and amusement, as your cheeks flushed pink with all the attention on you now.

“woah, you okay pretty girl?”

you swear you felt your cheeks get even redder.

PRETTY GIRL?

ain’t no way.

you cleared your throat, “yeah, um- sorry about that. should we run it back?”

sarah laughs and shakes her head. “no y/n, it’s fine. that was funny, we’ll keep that in”

you looked at her with pleading eyes. she could not possibly be thinking of airing my nightmare to the internet…

she ignores and continues on with the shoot.

billie smiled to herself. y/n. pretty name for a pretty girl. she couldn’t help but think about why you acted the way you did when she mentioned having good sex.

you on the other hand, could not move past what billie had just said. good sex? with WHO? and WHY did you feel like you just got cheated on?!

and why did your mind drift to what it would be like if it was you instead?

you shook your head, in attempt to shake these unholy thoughts out of your mind.

please, y/n. you’re at work.

but god, the rest of the shoot felt like torture with the way you were captivated by everything she says and everything she does.

and billie? she simply could not wait for the interview to be over to be able to finally talk to you.

finally, sarah cues the end of the shoot.

“cut,” you announced as you stopped recording, and you find yourself heaving a deep sigh of relief.

billie immediately turned her head to look at you, having had to look into cam A the whole time. she’s been seeing you in her peripheral vision throughout the shoot, and frankly speaking it was not enough for her.

she watches as you furrowed your eyebrows in concentration, fingers dancing over the camera settings as you reviewed the footage. she liked the way you looked when you were focused—lips slightly parted, bottom lip caught between your teeth.

she needed to approach you.

she pushed herself off the couch, stretching slightly before walking over to you. you felt her presence before you saw her, the scent of her cologne and warmth of her body filling your senses.

“hey, camera girl,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing.

you nearly fumbled with the camera, turning your head to look at her. she was close. too close. your breath hitched as your eyes met hers, mischievous and knowing.

“uh—hi,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended.

her lips twitched into a smirk. “so… did i make you nervous back there?”

you blinked rapidly, shaking your head. “no. why would you think that?”

she let out a soft chuckle, tilting her head slightly. “oh, i don’t know… maybe because you almost choked when i talked about having good sex?”

heat rushed to your face for the nth time today. “i did not—”

“you totally did.” she leaned in just a little, lowering her voice. “what were you thinking about, hm?”

you swallowed thickly, trying to compose yourself. “nothing. i was just caught off guard.”

she hummed, unconvinced, eyes flickering between yours and your lips. “mm. sure.”

you couldn't help but notice her gaze on you, and it sent your stomach flipping. you were about to respond when sarah’s voice cut through the tension. “alright, great job everyone! billie, you’re free to go. feel free to stay, though. we've got drinks!"

billie glanced over her shoulder, giving sarah a nod and a smile before turning back to you. “you done for the day?”

you hesitated. “not yet, i have to pack up.” you dissembled the camera from the tripod, covering the lens and taking out the batteries, bringing them over your shoulder to be placed back in the equipment room.

you started walking away, fully expecting to have left her behind in the studio. but to your surprise, you turned your head to see her trailing behind you, a small smile playing on her lips.

"can i help you?" you asked with a small, nervous laugh as you set the equipment down in the room.

all billie did was smile playfully as she leaned against the shelf. “was hoping i could steal you away for a bit.”

your stomach flipped. what in god's name... is happening.

“steal me away?”

she grinned. “yeah. get a drink, talk. maybe hear your voice a little more, since you were so quiet during the shoot.”

you chewed on your lip. this had to be a dream. billie eilish, flirting with you? blatantly? your brain struggled to catch up.

“i—uh, i don’t know…”

she stepped even closer, her breath warm against your skin. “c’mon, pretty girl. just one drink.”

fuck. there's that pet name again. your resolve cracked. “...okay. one drink.”

her smirk widened. “good girl.”

your heart nearly exploded right then and there. she was doing this on purpose. she was trying to make you crack. you cleared your throat.

"could you- uh, could you wait outside please?"

billie rose an eyebrow, leaning in closer. dangerously close.

"why? am i making it hard for you to focus?"

please.

you stayed silent, now wanting to say anything that could dig you a deeper grave. she relishes in your lack of response, chuckling to herself as she takes a step back.

"alright, i'll get out of your space. i'll see you outside yeah?"

you hummed in response, not daring to turn to look at her as she walked out.

you packed up as quickly as you could, your hands trembling slightly as you shoved cables into their respective bags.

when you finally stepped outside, billie was already leaning against the studio wall, her phone in one hand, the other tucked lazily into her pocket. her eyes lit up when she saw you. “thought you were gonna ditch me.”

“i wouldn’t do that,” you said, surprising yourself with the steadiness in your voice.

she pushed off the wall, gesturing towards the exit. “c’mon then.”

the cool night air hit you as you stepped outside. billie walked close beside you, her shoulder occasionally brushing yours. it felt deliberate. intentional.

“so… you always this shy?” she teased, glancing at you from the corner of her eye.

you let out a soft laugh. “only when celebrities flirt with me.”

she grinned. “oh, so you admit i’m flirting?”

you opened your mouth to respond, but she suddenly reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. her fingers lingered just a little too long, her touch featherlight. “you’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

heat crawled up your neck. “you enjoy making me nervous, don’t you?”

she chuckled. “maybe just a little.”

the walk to the bar was short, but the tension between you stretched thick in the air. when you finally sat across from her, the dim lighting casting soft shadows on her face, she leaned in, elbows resting on the table.

“tell me something,” she said, her voice a notch lower. “what’s a girl like you doing working behind a camera?”

you raised a brow. “a girl like me?”

she smirked. “yeah. pretty, talented. could be in front of the camera if you wanted.”

you let out a breathy laugh. “not really my thing.”

she hummed, studying you. “shame. i’d love to see you under the lights.”

your heart stuttered. her words, her gaze—it was all too much, yet not enough. and you had a feeling she knew exactly what she was doing.

this was going to be a long, long night.

read pt 2 here!

#billie eilish x female reader #billie eilish x you #fanfic #wlw one shot #billie eilish wlw #billie eilish x yn #wlw

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wallofchynax · 2 months ago

Text

SWEETHEART (3/?)

POSTED ON AO3 chapter one is here

Synposis: Shawn Michaels is a legend. A Hall of Famer. A respected veteran in the wrestling industry. He’s also one breath away from a full-blown breakdown. Because somehow, despite his best efforts, he’s found himself entangled with the worst possible problem: you. You, the young, smug, utterly relentless female wrestler who has made it your personal mission to ruin his peace. Shawn knows this is a bad idea. And yet— He can’t stop.

Chapter Synposis: Shawn Michaels is currently regretting having ever encouraged your behaviour towards him but realises he's in too deep when your 'friendly' conversation with Seth sets him off.

Ships: Shawn Michaels / Bratty!Reader, Stephenie McMahon/ Triple H

Content Warnings: Female!reader, bratting/brat taming, having sex in a risky location and almost getting caught, age gap relationship (older man/younger woman), no beta we die like men

You were a woman in a mission. Pity that by the time you barely make it down the hallway, Rhea Ripley steps into your path, arms crossed, expression lined with amusement.

“You want to tell me about last night?”

You grinned, crossing your arms, “I don’t know what you are talking about...”

Rhea exhales through her nose, fighting a smirk. “Bullshit. He’s been a goddamn wreck. Can barely look anyone in the eye. And every time he does look at you, he looks like he’s either gonna pass out or throw you over the nearest table.”

Your smirk deepens. “Interesting.”

“Yeah, real interesting,” Rhea deadpans, eyes flicking over you like she’s analyzing a puzzle. “So, what, you got him twisted up over you now?”

You stretch your arms above your head, exuding nonchalance. “Who’s to say?”

Rhea watches you for a beat before shaking her head, grinning. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

You tapped a finger to your chin, stepping away and beginning to walk down the all but Rhea followed.

“What can I say, Rhea?” You said, “Childhood dreams come true...”

Rhea didn’t miss that and tilted her head, “Your childhood dream was to mess with Shawn Michaels?”

You lean against the wall, giving her an exaggeratedly wistful sigh. “When I was a kid, I told everyone I was gonna marry Shawn Michaels.”

That earns you a full-blown laugh.

Like a FULL laugh as if you said something funny. When Rhea looked back at you, you furrowed her brows.

“Oh shit, you’re being serious?”

“Since I was a kid. I studied everything about him. Every match, every promo, every little detail. I used to sit there, rewinding tapes over and over, breaking down how he moved, how he worked the crowd. It wasn’t just a crush. It was dedication.”

Rhea raises a brow, “Damn. That’s next level.”

You continue, unwavering. “At first, I wanted to be him. To wrestle like him, to be that damn good. But that never meant I didn’t want him, too. And now?” You tilt your head, smirking. “I still want both.”

Rhea shakes her head in disbelief, but there’s something almost impressed in her expression. “So, you’re telling me… your entire life’s plan has been marrying Shawn Michaels and be the best damn women’s wrestler of all time?”

“Exactly.”

She watches you for a long moment, then laughs again, shaking her head. “You know, I don’t even know if I should be worried for you or for him.”

“That’s his problem.”

“You’re insane.”

You push off the wall, stretching. “And yet, here you are, following me around.”

“Watching this slow-motion trainwreck is the highlight of my day,” Rhea shrugged.

You chuckled “Glad I can provide entertainment.”

Rhea watches you for a second longer before smirking. “But I gotta ask… if little you could see you now, what would she think?”

You don’t even hesitate.

“She’d be proud as hell.”

Shawn Michaels is still thinking about last night.

He spends almost every hour trying to rationalise the events of the previous night. He repeats to himself that it didn’t mean anything He convinces himself that he maintains control over the situation, over his own actions. That he can simply compartmentalize what happened, act as though nothing has shifted between you.

He is lying to himself. And not very convincingly.

The truth is, Shawn Michaels can still feel it. The heat of your skin, the way your breath ghosted over his neck, the way you looked at him like you knew. Every time he sees you today, every glance, every smirk, every casual brush past him in the hallway, you remind him. You don’t even have to say a word. It’s there, in the way you hold yourself, in the way you tilt your head when you catch his eye, in the way your lips twitch just slightly, like you’re daring him to crack first.

And right now, in catering, he is losing his mind.

Seth Rollins is laughing, loud, genuine, and completely unbothered you’re leaning just a little too close to him. It’s harmless. You’re just talking, just enjoying the conversation, but from the corner of the room, Shawn Michaels is watching.

He doesn’t know why but this bothers him so much.

You know he’s there. You feel his gaze,

You don’t acknowledge it though. You just enjoy your conversation with Seth. Tilting your head when Seth says something particularly funny, letting your laughter spill over.

It makes Shawn’s jaw tighten.

Seth is completely oblivious to what is going on.

“Nah, but for real, I swear, that dude has no idea what he’s doing in the ring. I had to literally grab him by the wrist and—”

You hum thoughtfully, lips quirking as you rest a hand against Seth’s arm. Just for a second. Just long enough.

That’s all it takes.

A chair scrapes against the floor. Loud. Abrupt. Enough to make a few heads turn.

You don’t need to look to know who it is.

Seth, in the middle of his story, barely has time to register the shift in atmosphere before Shawn is right there, standing over the table, his expression carefully neutral—but his body? Tense. His arms are crossed, his stance wide, shoulders squared like he’s about to cut a promo right then and there.

“Rollins.” Shawn nods, his voice clipped. “Didn’t know you were such a comedian.”

Seth blinks. “Uh—yeah, man, just talking shop.”

Shawn’s gaze flickers to you for half a second before returning to Seth. “That right?”

Seth, still completely unaware of the landmine he’s standing on, just nods. “Yeah. Just having a conversation.”

Shawn lets out a slow, humorless chuckle. “Funny. Looked like something else.”

Now Seth is catching on. His brows knit slightly, and he glances between you and Shawn like he’s just realized he walked into something he wasn’t supposed to.

You, meanwhile, barely hold back your smirk.

“Relax, Shawn,” you say smoothly, tilting your head, voice sweet. Too sweet. “We were just talking.”

Shawn’s eyes cut to you again, but this time, they stay.

“You always talk like that?” His voice is lower now, rougher.

You feign innocence. “Like what?”

His nostrils flare. “Like that.”

Seth lets out a nervous laugh, pushing back from the table. “Yeah, uh—I think I’m gonna go grab a drink. Let you two… whatever this is.”

Smart man.

Seth doesn’t even get a full step away before Shawn moves.

It’s fast. Intentional. One second, you’re sitting there, amused, smug, pushing just a little too far, and then suddenly, Shawn’s hand wraps around your wrist.

Not rough. Not forceful. But firm.

And then he’s pulling you up.

You don’t resist. You don’t want to resist.

There’s something thrilling about it, the sheer force of his presence, the way his grip tightens slightly, the way his breath is coming shallow as he drags you past the catering area, past the curious glances of onlookers who notice the tension.

“Sweetheart,” you tease, letting him guide you down the hall, your voice laced with amusement. “If you wanted alone time, all you had to do was ask.”

He doesn’t answer.

Instead, he keeps moving, straight to the first empty room he can find.

As soon as you are inside, your back hits the wall and his hands are immediately finding your waist. The air between you is thick, electric with something volatile, dangerous. Shawn's breath is uneven, his chest rising and falling just a little too fast, his fingers still curled around your waist like he’s debating his next move.

But there is no next move.

Because he's already in too deep.

Your body shifts, just enough for your thigh to brush against his. Enough for his grip to tighten and for you to feel his fingers pressing harder into your waist, his thumb grazing bare skin which sends a shiver up your spine. His forehead is still pressed against the side of your head, and for what feels like a moment, the world slows down. The only thing that matters to your right now is the heat of his body against yours as your breaths come in a lot shakier than they had been moments ago.

Like he’s fighting an instinct.

But neither of your move. Glued to the floor.

His lips are grazing your ear, soft and unintentional but it sends head straight between your legs. He notices. Notices the way you squeeze your thighs togethers and for a moment, his fingers twitch against your hips, like he knows how easy it would be to put you in your place right now.

Your voice is barely below a whisper.

“You gonna walk away, sweetheart?”

His head lifts slightly. Shawn inhales sharply through his nose, his breath hot against your skin. His fingers flex on your waist. Your words hang in the air, taunting him, daring him.

His nose brushes along your jaw, slow, deliberate, like he’s testing himself. “You keep pushing me,” he mutters, voice low, the words barely more than a growl.

You hum, tilting your chin up, your lips just barely grazing his. “And you keep letting me.”

Touche.

But it was a mistake because it was all Shawn needed to make his move. His hips pinning yours to the wall as his mouth crashed against yours. It’s hungry, desperate and all the heat and frustration from the memories of what you both did last night. His body presses into yours, his thigh slipping between your legs.

You couldn’t help it. You rocked your hips against his knee on instinct.

That was all it took.

He growled against your mouth, his fingers digging into your hips as he pinned you to the wall harder, pressing his thigh hard against her right where you needed him. The friction made you gasp as your hands gripped onto the fabric of his shirt before she began riding his thigh even more.

“Fuck,”

Shawn kept telling himself this wasn’t professional.

But fuck.

It was a bit beyond that now.

His hands moved fast and needy, trailing over your sides, your waist and grabbing at your gear as if he’s seconds away from ruining your favourite set. His mouth is hot against your jaw, then your throat, biting, sucking, claiming, as if he wants you to to feel him long after this is over. You moan, arching into his touch, your fingers tugging at his hair, making him groan in return. His hands slip lower, gripping the curve of your ass, lifting you slightly, making your breath hitch as he grinds into you, his body completely caging you in.

It was so reckless. So reckless. Anyone could have walked in. Rhea already knew something was going on. Hell, Seth probably now knew that there was something going on based on what happened. Neither of you stopped. Your hands slip beneath his shirt, fingers tracing over hot, hard muscle, nails grazing along his skin, making his breath stutter.

“You love making me lose control,” he mutters, his voice rough, thick with heat.

You answered that by rolling your hips.

“And you enjoy giving in....”

He exhales sharply, his grip on you tightening.

“You,” he growls, lips crashing against yours again, “are such a problem.”

You gasp against his mouth as his hands slip lower-

RATTLE.

The door handle jiggles.

“Shawn, you in there?”

Hunter.

Shawn freezes against you, his body still pressed against yours, his hands still dangerously low.

You bite your lip, barely holding back a laugh.

Oh, this was priceless.

Shawn, still breathing heavy, silent panics for the second time that day. His eyes snap to yours, pleading, desperate, do not say a damn thing.

Instead, you rolled your hips with mischief in your eyes.

“Better think fast, sweetheart,”

Shawn grits his teeth, his body locked against yours as he tries to regulate his breathing. Tries to not make a sound. Tries to not react to the way your hips are still pressed against his thigh, your lips barely holding back laughter.

Another rattle of the doorknob. “Seriously, man?” Hunter sounds annoyed now. “What the hell are you doing?”

You enjoyed seeing this. Shawn having to fight his way out of explaining he’s sleeping with talent. It was comedy gold

“I swear to God,” Hunter mutters, “if I open this door and you’re doing something stupid,”

Shawn makes a strangled sound, slaps a hand over your mouth, and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

“I’M CHANGING.”

You snort against his palm, your entire body shaking with suppressed laughter.

Shawn’s eyes are looking towards yours. He’s begging you to stop laughing.

Hunter scoffs on the other side. “You’re changing?”

“YES.”

“…With the door locked?”

“YES.”

Another pause.

Then, flatly, unimpressed, Hunter deadpans, “Dude. You wrestled in tights for like two decades. What could possibly be so private?”

Shawn groans, dragging his free hand down his face. “Hunter. Go away.”

You lose it.

Your laughter bubbles out, muffled against Shawn’s palm, your body shaking with amusement.

Shawn glares at you, then realizes—

Your laughter is making you move against him.

And by the look in your eyes, the pleasure and desire in your eyes, the lewd look on your face as you rocked your hips again. Then, because you are an absolute demon, your tongue licks the edge of his palm.

And his head just filled with images of better places your mouth could be.

Shawn curses under his breath, immediately dropping his hand from your mouth, gripping your hip tighter to hold you still.

Hunter, still outside, groans dramatically. “Whatever, man. Just hurry up, we’ve got shit to do.”

The footsteps fade. The door handle stays locked.

Silence

And he still has you pinned against the door; your body still far too close to his.

You look up at him.

“So,” you said, tilting your head, “Where were we?”

Shawn exhales sharply, his fingers twitching against your waist, his forehead dropping to your shoulder like he’s praying for self-control.

But you don’t let him have it. Instead, you shift, just enough to remind him exactly how reckless this is, how insane it is that he even tried to stop. The heat of your body against his, the tension still thick in the air, the way his obvious problem is still pressed against you-

This scene is very obscene.

You love it.

And Shawn’s hands move before his brain can catch up. His grip rough, needy, lifting you up against the door as his mouth crashes against yours. It’s messy, desperate, like he’s drowning in this, in you, like he’s given up pretending he has control.

This time, he’s between your legs and you can feel all of him and it makes you roll your hips.

“Ten minutes,” you murmur, breathless, teasing, your nails digging into his shoulders.

His lips move lower, dangerously low. “I only need five.”

He grinds into you. His thick cock pressing against your wetness making you whimper. His fingers dig into the plush curve of your ass, lifting you higher and making your feel how hard he is, how fucking done he is with your bullshit.

You rock into him, chasing that friction, wanting to feel the heat of him through his jeans. His cock twitches beneath the denim, heavy and aching for you. You rolled your hips again.

“Fuck,”

Shawn is already working your gear off, until his rough palms meet the bare skin of your ass, “You feel that?”

You did. The feeling of the fabric of his trousers against your clit.

“You fucking happy now?”

He pushed against you with enough force to make your back arch, to make you grind even harder against him.

You are.

Because his cock is twitching, straining beneath his jeans, because his jaw is clenched and because the man you spent a lot of your younger years studying was going to fuck you hard against a wall. Your fingers move fast, undoing the button of his jeans before he can think to stop you.

“Jesus...fuck,”

You slipped your hand inside, gripping him, thick, heavy, so fucking hot in your palm. His cock jerks when you squeeze. He’s just as needy for you as you are needy for him. You let your thumb run over the tip, feeling the precum leaking from the tip.

It wasn’t enough. You wiggled yourself, breath hitching and legs tightening around his waist, just to feel the heat of him against you, bare and hard against your entrance.

The primal growl that came from him made you clench as his cock slides though the slick folds of your pussy, teasing, taunting...

Until he pushes in.

It’s your turn to whimper.

“Fuck...” You whined.

Finally, he had you

His forehead dropped against yours as he sank into you, stretching you open and filling you with that first deep thrust. His fingers tightened around your thighs as he held you in place pressing in inch by inch until there was nothing else, until he was buried so fucking deep, you could swear you felt him pressing against your stomach.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, your legs squeezing tighter around his waist. "Shawn," you gasped, your voice breaking into a breathy moan as he pulled back and slammed back in, setting a ruthless, hungry pace.

His breath was hot against your ear, panting, growling through gritted teeth. "This is what you wanted. Now, take all of it-"

You couldn’t speak. Could only arch against him as he pounded into you, the force of his thrusts pushing you harder into the door, each movement making your body jolt with the impact. He was ruining you like he did last night, deep strokes dragging against that spot inside of you that made your vision blur that made your mouth fall open in a helpless moan.

“Such a tight little pussy,” Shawn gritted out, hands squeezing your ass hard, lifting you so he could angle his cock deeper, fuck you harder, “You drive me fucking insane, you know that?”

You tried to nod but the way he was slamming into you, making sure he dragged his cock against that spot inside of you that made you scream. It was impossible to do anything except take it, to feel every thick, pulsing inch of him filling you up, stretching you out, claiming you in a way that was so wrong but felt so fucking right.

Fuck.

You tipped your head against the door and felt your entire body shudder as head built up between your legs, pleasure winding.

Shawn knew you were close. Knew by the way you were clenching around his cock and for the first time today after all the torment you had put him through, he was fucking smug about it.

"You gonna come for me, sweetheart?"

"Shawn," you begged, your nails digging into his back, clinging to him, desperate, frantic.

"That’s it," he groaned, his thrusts turning erratic, his grip on you bruising, his cock pulsing inside you, thick and hot and perfect. "Let go."

You did.

Your orgasm hit you, sharp and sudden, your walls clamping down on him as pleasure surged through you, leaving you shaking against him, gasping, moaning his name like a prayer.

Shawn followed, his hips stuttering, his breath breaking as he buried himself deep, coming with a low, wrecked groan, filling you up with each desperate, pulsing thrust.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Just panting and breathing. Until Shawn lets you down. Honestly, you felt very much like a baby deer walking for the first time, but you managed to stand.

“I’m going to be late for my meeting,”

Shawn let out a breath as he ticked himself back into his jeans.

Great. The aggression was out of his system and now he was the role model of professionalism again. Still, you leaned against the door with your legs shaking, skin still buzzing from the way he just rearranged your guts. You felt his cum spilling out and on to your thighs, body pulsating from the aftermath of your orgasm.

“Oh no!” you teased, “I wouldn’t want you to be late, sweetheart,”

Shawn shot you a look. It was a look between exasperation and wanting to fuck you again for being a brat but, he let it go and adjusted his shirt, “You should probably go and shower,”

“Hmm, scared someone is going to see how fucked out I look?” You grinned lazily, stepping away from the door, “I don’t know, I rather like feeling you leaking from me...”

Shawn let out a sharp exhale through his nose, his jaw clenching as his eyes darkened.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath, hands twitching like he wanted to grab you and drag you back to him, consequences be damned.

You smirked, stretching your arms above your head, making a show of how satisfied you were, how your body still hummed from the way he’d just fucked you senseless. The way your thighs were sticky with him. The way your skin still flushed hot from the bruising grip of his hands.

If he didn’t have a meeting, you wouldn’t be making it to catering without cum dripping from your legs.

#wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #wwe x oc #wwe x reader #wwf #wwf fanfiction #wwe #shawn michaels x reader #wwe smut #wwe fic #shawn michaels fanfiction

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kanmom51 · 11 months ago

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PJM2 is coming

MUSE

I literally cannot contain my excitiement.

Sitting her, at work may I say, putting these words on paper, so to speak, because f***ing hell, wtf JM?

Where to start?

The colour concepts? The choice of name? Choice of font (That JM popping to eye)? The flower? The links to TTU (notes sheet and flower)? The whole play with Closer than this? The dropped lyrics?

This man is a friggin genius (not that we didn't know this already)...

There is so much to talk about, and he hasn't even started with the promotions, and we haven't even seen the concept photos or the album and the songs. Name, colours, 2 lines of lyrics and we have our hands full already. They certainly know what they are doing.

Before I jump in, I want to, once again, state very loudly and clearly that everything written here are my opinions, which are based on what we've been handed so far, and could change the more we are shown.

So, let's get it...

JM fetching this from the purple locker (which we don't see are purple off the bat and only when the lights turn on). Notes for The Truth Untold.

His wittle thumb with his crescent moon.

The notes title : La lettra - The letter. Hmm... interesting.

And then this:

We have the flower:

and this that makes me believe that yes indeed, it is the silhouette of a Smeralso.

Some of this I am yet to see where is going. like the referencing of "the letter", The truth untold, the flower... (she says, all while thinking of the choice this Festa to stream LY Seoul final with said song and the changes that JM and JK chose to make to it)...

All that and more in one little short clip.

And then we have that little 'chat' opened up by BH, and those lyrics. Oh, those lyrics.

All references that indeed can be connected with army. I mean, that's what JM is king of.

All also a clear reference to a one Jeon Jungkook, if you are only willing to look and see.

Rain

Snow

Crying

We have this:

Which they have BOTH chose to bring up once again in 2023, JK happening to do so during JM's Face promos, not to mention the rain reference in SNTY (and of course, goes without saying Still with you, but that's back in 2020, while they have both managed to bring it up and reference it once again in 2023).

Remember this?

Oh, and what about this?

And then we have these:

Remember JM tearing up after winning MMA for BS&T ?

youtube

JM getting emotional and crying only followed by JK tearing up.

*If you haven't seen this one yet, go watch the full live.

And who can forget JK during MOTS ONE as well, seeing JM crying, distress clearly showing on his face, just waiting for the moment he can go and comfort JM.

If these are actual lyrics for a song to come or lyrics that were dropped, one thing we know, and that these words, these lines, they were written by JM, and he made a clear choice to share them with us.

And in doing so, sorry, I'm still not believing this all while sitting here gushing and knowing this was coming (no, I didn't know this specifically was coming, but the feeling that they were going big or going home, that I've had ever since July 2023... took some time and many tribulations, but we are getting there folks). Sidetracked as I always am, lol.

Back on track.... in doing so, JM is basically standing on a rooftop screaming at the top of his lungs:

Not 1, not 2, but 3 JK references in that little shared piece of lyrics clearly written by JM, for an album we are yet to see and hear.

Anyone, and I mean anyone that is a BTS army, that has seen original content, that has followed their Twitter account or seen older tweets, that are open and willing to see it, will KNOW that these lyrics are JAYKAY!!!!!

And let me backtrack a second here...

Cause I did mention that these references could be understood as if they are made for army, right?

So yeah. Army references or JK references? I am going to say both, leaning very much to the JK side of it. Cause that's how they do it. Time after time after time.

Let's mention the colour choices as well.

We have the background colours.

We have the yellow.

And then we have the album concepts.

2 concepts.

Blooming

and Serenade.

Which happens to be Yellow, same colour threaded through Serendipity.

And we even have purple thrown in there too.

Notice how all the lockers are painted purple. The colour of army you may say, but also JK's colour (so again, army and JK?).

And he's pulling out the music sheet from this purple locker.

Those lockers representing his inspiration for his music perhaps?

Giving us these lyrics, then telling us the album is called Muse (or telling us the name of the album and it's meaning and then dropping those lyrics, take your pick regarding the timing, cause basically, same same), showing us the music being extracted from those purple lockers... ya think his muse is that entity he's talking about in those lyrics perhaps (even more so if we see the references as both for army and JK)?

Rhetorical question, btw.

And then we have the mint green.

Perhaps this is what JM was talking about when he told us in his birthday live, if memory serves me right, about going to the starting point, or more so starting from the beginning trying to figure out himself as an artist?

Also, cannot help but think of this image here:

I cannot wait to see his concept photos, and where this is all going.

We talked about JK being so loud during 2023 (well, he's had his super loud moments before that, but 2023 and his lives were smoking). And JM, well it felt (and I say felt, cause it's not really true, and I'll explain why) was quieter, more subdued, especially during JK's Golden promotions.

But here's the thing.

JM and JK have their own special oh so different ways of being loud and showing us themselves (and it shows even more so seeing that JK, for whatever reasons he had for it, did not write his songs for Golden - not saying he did not have influence on the lyrics or choice of songs with lyrics he wanted). JK did it through his choices in his photo shoots and styling for his songs and album. He did it with his lives and his total fanboying over JM. And JM, he does it through his art, which includes also but not only his lyrics.

Those two are both loud as fuck. And JM, well if these sneak lyrics are a promo of more to come (which, they probably are seeing that we have Face to fall back on as an example), then he's as loud as a frigging foghorn.

And last but not least, before I go:

Lookie here...

D-31

#Jimin #BTS JM #JM #PJM2 #Jikook #Kookmin #Minkook #MUSE #JM MUSE #counting the days to 19 July 2024 #mark your calanders

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froagles · 4 months ago

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I have- a lot to say about Chapter Four, so-

I sound a bit salty, because I am, but I promise it’s all not that serious and it is just a game! Let’s all remember that and be respectful

⚠️SPOILERS AHEAD BIG RANT BELOW ⚠️

❌ There’s about to be a lot of negative so if you don’t want to see it skip to the positives! Totally fair! It came out yesterday and I was hyped and it didn’t meet my personal hype, so I am a bit salty ngl! So totally fair to skip ❌

I can’t really talk much about Yarnaby because his death was SUPER glitched? So I was kind of just like “…okay- I mean yikes for him but-“ I can’t even tell if it was something I did that made him burn? I’m someone who hates chase sequences (not because they’re bad I just get too stressed lmao) but his felt kiiiind of underwhelming? But again one of the places I assume he was supposed to be chasing was- glitched as all hell he didn’t chase me at all, but anyways, my son that I can’t draw, I’m so sorry

Pianosaurus- honestly? I didn’t give him the time of day during promos and such, and honestly now I’m ashamed I didn’t, I’m someone that needs time to just- stare at a character’s design for more than four seconds, just to picture their potential, and staring at his design after the fact, yeah, a MUSICAL chase scene? Are you KIDDING me?? I would’ve fucked with that, SO. HARD. I think Mob was trying to go for the funny route, that or just to show how unstable/strong Doey is, but- I don’t know maybe he could’ve come in and saved us.. after an actual chase scene? My man had ten seconds of life including the cutout, Mob hates dinosaurs fr

The Doctor- I don’t know man I wasn’t too hyped about him like- fight wise? But I knew he’d come with lore and it’d be a different kind of villain so I was still hyped in a sense, and- since I can’t say much about Yarnaby’s death- then the Nightmare Critters stuff? Like it was interesting he was playing with us, but he just dies so easily, like I guess it makes sense, he’s an immovable(?) computer, but for someone everyone expected to be the main villain, and who was talking so much shit to us the whole game, he was also kind of underwhelming, disappointing really the mindless drone computers was also all glitchy so I couldn’t tell you much there

Saved this for last (critique wise) because if you follow me/like my stuff you probably know I love the Nightmare Critters, they got me into actually drawing Poppy Playtime stuff instead of just fixating on the Smiling Critters but not drawing them, helped that I had finally gave in and watched chapter three (out of order.. I finally watched chapters one and two like a week ago, fake fan I know) in September, and then they came out in October

Maybe it’s dumb, but these stupid emo critters mean a lot to me for personal reasons, a lot more than they probably should, so to say I was excited was an understatement, and- the trailer didn’t give me high hopes, but I stayed hopeful, thinking maybe that tease of a Bigger Baba would lead to something? Like- “maybe she’s actually an ally! They did say multiple allies, she’s the black sheep of the Nightmare Critters! It makes sense! They have their own jingle made too, maybe there’s a commercial!” And then to not even get cutouts of them felt kind of like a stab in the heart

They started their big promotion of the chapter with a week long introduction and- nothing, and yes you can argue the same thing happened to the Smiling Critters in chapter three though comparatively they got way more than the Nightmare Critters, which they gave us more of in chapter four, but that’s just the thing, why make the Nightmare Critters in the first place then? It’s not like it’d tarnish the Smiling Critters’ brand, they were introduced AS antagonistic plushies trying to eat us, and if the idea was that they were such a failed attempt (in universe) at trying to attain the same popularity as the Smiling Critters.. why not say? Give us a note? A line? An acknowledgment besides them visibly attacking us to their existence? Even as a villain despite the symbolism Baba could’ve been a parallel to Catnap, something, but nope, she was just the main grunt character, like actually, that’s what her and the Nightmare Critters were, Yarnaby was a pet, they were like The Doctor sent out bugs to come at us, in the cage room they were just slightly bigger bugs, like what is that about by the way? Are they not Bigger Bodies? Are they the “main” Critters? Like tell us things about them please, even their little jingle is an Easter Egg there’s NO acknowledgment of them, at all, and to top it all off, no cutouts, when characters like Daisy have cutouts despite never being a character we face, why have us see the Smiling Critters cutouts again with the same dialogue- and all the other new characters get cutouts, but not the Nightmare Critters?? Why????? I dunno, it’s not that serious but it’s incredibly disappointing for me personally, as we had months of hype for- literally nothing

Edit: I have more to say actually, why the heck was Baba even advertised as different from the rest of the Nightmare Critters? In everything we get of them she’s in the middle, or the main focus, the spotlight, for.. what? She’s the only one attacking us? Like I just don’t get it, I still believe a better plot were to have her be a parallel to Catnap, because they’re similar situations in a way, Baba’s Prototype was just Dr. Sawyer instead, just.. minus having a hinted personality, but maybe this time, we could’ve saved her when we couldn’t Catnap or something? So like it’s not too similar, but I dunno, literally anything would’ve been better than what we got

✅ But! It wasn’t all bad, this chapter did have a bit of good in it that I enjoyed, case in point- ✅

Doey, GOD I love his colours, I jokingly hated him because I fucking hate drawing circles, and this man is nothing but circles, but my actual opinions pre release I just couldn’t wait to see him animated, I love characters that don’t have to deal with anatomy, I hate anatomy, stretch away king, but I didn’t have much of an opinion otherwise, then we find out he’s made up of three people? The lore is hot, his jingle is a bop also, the fact he killed his (well one of the people’s) parents, that was illegal, stop that, and I’m glad that he didn’t just agree with Poppy’s plan, but also I wish they talked about the long term? Say they defeat The Prototype, it’s not like they can go back into society, I’m surprised no one had that existential thought, his death though- a bit convoluted but yeah, also to my understanding The Prototype set off the bombs right? But we still planned to do it, just maybe we could’ve moved the Safe Haven guys out beforehand I dunno, but that was such a sad death, he said SORRY TO US. US???? BRO WE SUUUUUCK, RIP the king of this chapter

Safe Haven, omfg that was just such a cool concept to me, I guess you could say that it’s not really original but I don’t really care about all that, kind of wish there was more of a variety of toys in it though (yeah I know there were a couple Boogie Bots and a Mini Huggy but it was still clearly Smiling Critters focused y’know? I swear I don’t hate the SC guys I’m just trying not to be biased towards them) I’m glad they had a memorial room, and it’s SO lucky of them to have a doctor I don’t know how if they were all children but that doctor is the goat, in the thumbnail of the trailer they make a point to show that Doey could put things in himself, and we also know from tapes that he can make it where others can’t, surely there’s big enough cracks to where he could go up in the surface and lowkey rob a store to get them food right? Pretty please? Give these people food T^T ALSO I’m glad they actually talked, I didn’t expect that to be honest, yay :3

I was not expecting to see BBI Hoppy but I’m so glad we did, my fav Smiling Critter hiiiiii :3, I love her voice, and it makes me wonder if she was the last Critter besides Dogday and Catnap, because maybe they would’ve mentioned the others if they were alive? I dunno, but I’m just glad to see her

Bouncing off of those two points ^, we got more Smiling Critters shit!! Not much in the grand scheme of things, but we got a whole BBI Hoppy tape, a blurry image of I thiiiiink BBI Bubba on one of the TV screens, and an entire room full of the little Smiling Critters, that counts probably, we got more that makes me happy :3

Out of order but seeing that Kissy in the train car- omfg I think that was who Riley from the notes was- RIP Queen, Jesus-

By the way I WILL be using the fact that Touille’s tail is lowkey kind of like Catnap’s that shit is so long, we sure he’s not an opossum lol?

The jingles made by Black Gryphon slaaaapped bro, make them longer puhleaseeeee 🙏

Kissy Missy, send tweet, she’s alive my angel she’s so TRAUMATIZED go AWAY PROTOTYPE

Poppy joining the realistic panic attack club- I don’t blame her for running, and I don’t think any of us should, we the player suck LMAO we deserve this, it was sad for Kissy though the queen

Also people saying fuck Ollie- why? Ollie was real, it’s The Prototype that did all that, not him, leave him alone he’s a bean

I kind of expected Huggy Wuggy was alive, these fucking wuggies are made of titanium I guess, what if the two reunite? They should give each other a hug with their long velcro paw pads, that’s what should happen Kissy and Huggy need to hug as probably the only BBI’s left (presumably, if Boxy is alive we cheer)

As disappointed in the chapter as I am, as it was my first time seeing it release live, it wasn’t all bad, maybe I could better judge some parts when they fix the glitching

I am working on some more drawings! Sorry I’ve slowed, I’m still not used to drawing so much lowkey, at least not like fully colouring and even doing backgrounds, if you couldn’t tell I only ever really do sketches lol, but yeah sorry things slowed I think I hurt my hand somehow, but sorry for the rant! I can get really ramble-y I’ve just never had a place to do so, despite my opinions I won’t be stoping posting art! So fret not, anyways, byeeeeeee!

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime chapter 4 #poppy playtime spoilers #yarnaby #pianosaurus #harley sawyer #nightmare critters #doey the doughman #rant post #froagtalks #more like #froagrants

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