#still working my way through the requests

[mywritersmind]

pookieeee how are youuu 💗 I'm in NEED of a Franco fic where the reader is João Félix's little sister...

So she obvi speaks Portuguese and English (maybe some Italian in there too) butttt unlike her brother her Spanish is rusty. So when reader drags her brother (and of course some of the guys from the team) to support her best friend at a race, he's listening in to every little comment Franco makes about her in Spanish and trying to subtly give hints to reader that he likes her, and of course some good brother teasing! Just hardcore fluff, friend pining and good old family banter!

HE CAN UNDERSTAND - FC43

listen up : i used google translate don’t come for me. not proofread! super cute and fluffy! loved this request sorry if i didng execute it well😭

word count : 2281

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Franco!” I jump into my best friends arms as he laughs. The moment I asked for three Grand Prix tickets, he sent them over immediately and went on a rant of how excited he was to see me.

“Y/n!” He grins widely at me, “I’m so happy you’re here!” He's in his race suit, his hair messy and extra wavy. I run my hand through it, fixing it a bit.

“You’re a mess.” I laugh as he pushes my hand away and rolls his eyes, “Oh!” I suddenly remember that my brother is standing behind me. “This is my brother, João! I can’t believe you two haven’t met!” I smile at both of them as my brother shakes Franco’s hand.

Oddly professional for someone he knows I love. “Nice to finally meet you. Y/n never shuts up about you.” I slightly blush at his words as Franco lets out a laugh.

“Good to know…” Franco gives us a mini tour. I'm so beyond happy for him. This has been his dream since forever, the first time I met him he even jokingly flirted and said I could be a WAG.

Franco is charming and hilarious so my brother likes him instantly. We end up in the William’s garage, everyone scrambling around and talking in languages I can’t understand.

Since it’s race day, i’m genuinely surprised Franco had the time to see us. Especially since Qualifying was earlier today.

But my best friend works in magical ways.

⋆༺

FRANCO

I watch Y/n talk to Alex’s girlfriend. I watch as her hair flows down her back and her hand covers her mouth as she laughs. “So,” João turns to me, sort of intimidating for his height but so far I think he approves of me. “You’ve known Y/n for a while, huh?”

I nod, “Yeah, she hasn't been able to shake me yet.” He laughs, nodding his head.

“You care about her?” Why do I feel like i’m getting interrogated?

I nod, “Of course. She’s my best friend.”

“I mean as more than a friend.”

I laugh uncomfortably, joking with him, “Are you asking me my intentions?” He does not find this funny. I clear my throat and breathe out, “We’re just friends.”

Y/n comes skipping back over to us. I’ve always been taught to not lie, but i’m not about to confess that I like her to fucking brother.

“J, you’ve got to see his car!” She takes his arm and pulls him away, “You coming, Fran?”

I’m about to follow after them but my engineer taps my shoulder, “Gimmie one second! Don't touch anything, Y/n, I know how you are!”

She gives me one of her signature smiles, making my pulse quicken and my smile falter. I catch her brother giving me an odd look before I sit up and wave.

I turn to my engineer who’s smiling, big, “Dios mío, te estás sonrojando.” (My god, you’re blushing.) I roll my eyes at him, turning to see Y/n point to my car and start asking questions to someone in blue.

“¡Cállate por favor!” (Shut up please!) Her Spanish is more than rusty. I've tried to teach her some but she gets distracted and she always ends up persuading me into something different. Still, it’s weird talking about her when she’s right there.

“Vamos, ¡te gusta! Es la forma en que la miras... como si fuera el sol.” (Come on, you like her! It’s the way you look at her… like she’s the sun.) I push his shoulder at his words. Christ, is it that obvious?

“Actúas como si fuera un cachorrito enamorado.” (You act like i’m some lovesick puppy)

“¡Porque lo eres! Siempre hablas de ella, tu pantalla de bloqueo es ella, ¡siempre le estás enviando mensajes de texto! Admítelo.” (Because you are! You always talk about her, your lock screen is her, you are always texting her! Just admit it.)

I cross my arms at him, not daring to glance back at her. “No voy a arruinar mi relación con ella…” I shake my head and tease him, “¡Ahora vuelve a trabajar!” (I’m not ruining my relationship with her… now get back to work!)

I join Y/n and João again, smiling and doing my duty as a tour guide. João gives me another weird look and i’m hoping it’s not because i’m losing his trust. I know i’m not her boyfriend, but I still want him to like me.

They are soon asked to step into the visitors area as I warm up for the race. Y/n kisses my cheek before she goes, “Good luck, Fran. Be careful!” I know my cheeks are red but all I can focus on is her so close to me, her lips on my cheek.

I nod, “Thank you. Have fun watching.” I wink at her and turn, getting ready.

⋆༺

YOU

“I’m so nervous! It’s so rainy!” I bite my lip as the cars go out on track in a second formation lap. The race hasn’t even started and someone’s already out!

My brother eyes me, he’s been acting weird all day and I hate it. He suddenly turns to me, “You don’t like Franco?”

It catches me off guard, “Uh… of course I do?” He rolls his eyes.

“I mean can you see yourself with him? I think you’d be cute.” I laugh out loud.

“João, when have you ever wanted me to date someone?” Especially Franco. I mean, maybe i’ve thought about it.

Okay maybe I've fantasized about it… a lot.

But what am I supposed to do? Confess to my best friend who’s always been there for me that I think he’s irresistible and criminally hot? No.

“I just think if you’re gonna date anyone… He’s a good option.” My cheeks heat as I shake my head, “You’re blushing! Come on, Y/n, why not?”

“Just shut up, the race is starting!”

The next time he brings it up is at a yellow flag, “He’s definitely nicer than your ex.” I give him a death glare and attempt to tune him out, “And who did you go crying to after he broke your heart….?” Franco. The answer is Franco because he’s always there.

It’s been hard recently because of his races, but he’s constantly texting or calling me. I think he just wants someone to gossip with.

“Again, he’s my friend. Just because you have a girlfriend now doesn’t mean you know everything!”

“No but I know everything about you, and you don’t look at your other friends like that.” I hate that stupid smug smile on his face. And I hate that he’s right.

My stomach drops when Franco goes into the wall. I grab onto my brother's arm who doesn’t look concerned at all and more happy that i’m so worried! I slap his arm, “You have no empathy!”

I cross my arms, biting my lip as I watch him exit the car. Thank god he’s okay.

Franco gives me a small thumbs up when he’s back in the garage. I can tell he’s absolutely gutted, the air is awkward and thick with tension since Franco’s crash meant that the whole team's weekend is over.

The race is long and honestly scary. Still, all I can think about is Franco.

Maybe this weekend, his attention to me, my brothers comments, and how Franco’s been looking at me, has finally sealed what I've been dreading.

I’ve known I like him for a while, but I don’t want to ruin us. I can’t be embarrassed by my closest friend!

I’m not an idiot, I see how he flirts with interviewers or even fans. Part of me wants to believe that’s just his personality, but the other part is screaming at me that he doesn’t like me.

His eyes though, he looks at me so deeply that sometimes I feel like I'm apart of some big trick.

“Hey,” My brother nudges me, “Race is over.” I snap out of whatever daze I was in and nod, “I gotta pee, go talk to Franco!”

When I look to where he points, Franco’s already looking at me. His race suit is unzipped and he looks so tired. “Hi.” He smiles softly but I can tell it’s forced.

“Sorry your first race with me sucked.” He frowns, leaning against the little barrier from the garage and friends and family.

“Hey…” I touch his arm briefly, “It did not suck! And It’s not your fault. It was scary though…”

His eyes look sad and I know it’s not just because he crashed. Franco feels so deeply and this weekend has been especially hard for him. I can tell he sees the worry on my face, “I'm really really happy you’re here. We’re getting dinner later, right?”

I go to the hotel with João first. We change and meet back at the restaurant. “I’m so hungry!” I groan as we sit down, Franco said he would be here soon but I am not above ordering early.

João sits across from me, “Gotta wait for your boyfriend.”

I eye him, “You better not say anything in front of Franco. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.” He laughs a bit.

“I really don’t think I will.” He’s so ominous today. “I can tell i’m making you uncomfortable though. My only question is… why?”

“Why?”

“Why can’t you accept that you like him? He’s obviously not going to turn you down. He’s practically got hearts in his eyes when he talks to you.” The waiter brings water which I gulp down immediately.

“I- No! I can’t like him. He’s my friend.”

“So you’ve said… but the best relationships start out that way.” Why is he pushing this so much?

“I just… I don’t want to ruin our relationship.”.

“Funny…” he mumbles something, “That's what he said too.” but I can’t hear him because Franco sits and starts saying hello.

Our dinner is amazing, the food is perfect and I can’t stop laughing at Franco and João. “You’ve gotta come to a match sometime!” My brother laughs, “The team would love you.”

Franco grins, “I would be honored! Y/n always talks about your games, you’re pretty good apparently.” This boosts my brother's ego far too much and we end the night while talking about football and childhood stories.

“He always teased me with his friends!” I roll my eyes at the memory, “They were all learning Spanish in highschool so I never understood them!”

Franco laughs as João shakes his head, “Why didn’t you take spanish in highschool?”

“I did! I just never caught on. Plus João became fluent after school anyway so his schooling barely helped.” I shrug as Franco’s expression turns odd.

He blinks, looking to João, “You’re fluent?”

“Si.” He looks almost smug about it as Franco nods slowly, swallowing.

“Así que escuchaste…” (So you heard…)

“Todo.” (Everything) Franco’s smile drops completely at my brothers words. But my brother still carries on with a smile, “Eres muy obvio, pero lo apoyo.” (You’re very obvious, but I support it.)

I frown at their communication that I can’t understand, “Okay, can you two stop gossiping? I’m ready to leave.” Franco smiles at me, nodding slowly as we stand.

Our walk back to the hotel is short and luckily no fans interrupt it. The warmth of the inside makes me smile and the ding of the elevator makes me yearn for my bed.

“Uh, Y/n?” I look back at Franco as he talks, “Could I speak to you for a moment…” I look at my brother who nods, a smile still on his face as he disappears behind the elevator doors. “Let’s go outside.”

It’s no longer raining so we venture out into the hotel's garden. It’s beautiful with tall plants and trees, a small path that we walk on, and flowers that I've never seen before.

“What did you walk to talk to me about?” I turn to him, he looks oddly scared and a bit chilly. He starts to speak but then closes his mouth and thinks, “Franco…?”

“I like you.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, I freeze, “I really like you and not just as a friend… like way more than that.”

I blink, “You’re kidding?”

The panic on his face is immediate, “No?”

“Shit. Okay!” I realize i’m so caught up in my own world that he probably thinks I don’t like him, “I feel the same.”

He breathes out, stepping closer, “You fucking scared me.”

I smile, not believing this is even real, “You really like me? Because my brother has been making me feel delusional all day!” He takes my hand in his and I swear my heart skips a beat.

“He heard me talking about you in spanish…” I raise a brow, “My engineer was teasing me and I didn’t know he spoke it!” I laugh, shaking my head at his story, “But I'm glad he did. I probably would be sitting in my room all alone if he hadn't.”

I grip his hand tighter, stepping closer, “I’m really glad too. I didn’t want to ruin anything but fuck I really like you.”

He grins and leans in, He paused before I nod. Franco presses a kiss to my lips softly, “I can’t believe you have a crush on me.” I whisper as groans and rolls his eyes, trying to walk away.

“No! No taking it back now!” I laugh, pulling him back to me, my hand going to his neck and my lips meeting his, “You’re stuck with me now.”

[dilf-rot]

Hot Summer - MDNI 18+

TAGS: Wolverine x Reader, Logan Howlett x Reader, Logan has a knot, idc if wolverines are not a canid species I’m doing my best ok, Femme Reader, Friends to lovers sort of deal, Mentions of rut / heat, maybe a little feral?, also im giving this bitch fangs because he should have them, smut with very little plot, creampie, helping a horny mutant in need, PinV, oral (fem receiving) ((for like 1 moment)), marking / hickeys / scratching, this is literally just smut with minimal plot

WORD COUNT: 2560

A/N: Hey, remember when I asked if you would still love me if I wrote Logan with a knot? Yeah well here it is, may it comfort you in this terrible world <3 

If you enjoy my work consider sending me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/rotwrites  (Not required by any means, writing requests are still free!) 

—------------

The summer at the institute was always a little boring, or even very boring. You were one of the few students who hadn’t made plans and ended up stuck in the mansion, doing mindless tasks and trying to not be bored out of your mind. It was mostly empty, and as you walked the halls, you hardly even noticed the change in atmosphere. It had just been you, Charles, and a few other kids that would pop up every now and then. So, you were rather surprised when you rounded the corner and saw him standing there. 

“Logan,” You call, and he turns to look at you. Your breath catching in your throat as you take in the sight of him, sweaty and a little dirty from whatever he had been doing. “I thought you were out for the summer?”

“Yeah, was. Chuck called me back, gotta fix up some things.” He looks you over, and smiles, the flash of his sharp canines sending flutters right through your stomach. 

“Oh, well it’s good to see you.” You try not to stare, wondering if he has somehow gotten even more alluring in his brief absence. The length of your shorts, and thin fabric of your tank making you feel much more bare now than before. “I’ll let you get back to it,” 

“Thanks, doll. We’ll catch up when I’m done.” Something in his voice feels different, but you try not to focus on it as you head over towards the kitchen. He did look rather good, maybe even more than he usually did. Though you had been trying desperately not to think of him in that way, to preserve one of the few friendships you had built here. But the image of him dripping in sweat, in a dirt stained beater and jeans that were tight in all the right spots. That image would make things harder for sure. The thoughts of his teeth sliding along your neck, his rough hands clinging to your hips. 

You pushed those thoughts down as best as you could and decided you would attempt to read, lounging in the corner of the kitchen, book in hand. Your eyes flicking across the pages, barely absorbing the words, just trying to give yourself a reasonable distraction. You weren’t sure how long you had been doing this before Logan had made his way into the kitchen. 

“Reading?”

“Barely-” you laugh, but are briefly silenced when you look up to see Logan, shirtless. He has his dirty tank in his hand, using it to wipe the sweat from his brow. It wasn’t even that hot out for the season, and yet he was somehow soaked in sweat. You couldn’t imagine the work Charles had him doing to be that strenuous. 

“Oh yeah? Something on your mind?” He loops the fabric of the tank through one of his belt loops and walks over to the fridge. 

“Uh-” You can’t help the way your mind practically goes blank as you watch him. He’s taken a beer from the very back of the fridge and popped the cap off on the edge of the counter, hopefully he hadn’t chipped it or that would be another thing to add to his list of repairs. 

“You want one?” He references the drink in his hand, you nod and stand up from your chair. Whatever book you were reading was quickly forgotten and left on the floor. You stand next to him leaning against the counter as he opens the beer for you and hands it to you. He must’ve bought them and hid them in the back of the fridge whenever he had gotten back to the mansion, cause you couldn’t recall seeing any in there for the past few months. 

As you take the beer from him your fingers brush against his, and as if he had been shocked he flinches. His eyes are dark as he looks down at you. He grits his teeth and tries to regain his composure, but you can tell something is going on. You step closer to him, your hip almost touching him. He leans down towards you, as if he was going to tell you a secret.

You want to turn your face towards his, to swallow him up in a kiss, to beg him to tell you what he was thinking. But as he moves closer to you, you find yourself paralyzed.

“You smell good,” he breathes in, his face inches away from your neck.

“So do you…” You turn your head to avoid his gaze. He smells better than usual. Something about the smell of sunshine, dirt, and whatever sawdust or debris had been falling onto him made you want to reach out and grab him, but before you could, he corners you. Your back against the counter, his hands finding your hips and effortlessly lifting you on top of the counter. He presses himself against you. You're caged in by his large arms, the muscles taut and glistening.

His face against your neck, his teeth almost brushing against your skin. His rough fingers digging into your hips. The fabric of his jeans rubbing up against your thighs, now wet from his sweat and your sudden excitement.

“Logan-” you whine, practically trembling, and he seems to remember himself.

“Sorry, doll.” He steps back and looks you over, a devious glint in his eye. Without another word he is gone from the kitchen. You are unsure of what to do, or what even was happening but eventually follow him.

He has resigned himself to his room, and you can hear him pacing back and forth behind the door. You knock gently and the sounds stop. He opens the door just a crack, he seems even sweatier and disheveled from when he had found you in the kitchen. His eyes piercing and intense, his pupils blown wide, his breath slow and shaky. 

“Logan, are you alright?”

He grunts in response, shaking his head. 

“What’s wrong?” 

He looks you over, and opens the door wider. You step inside and he quickly shuts the door. He looks even wilder than he had in the kitchen, still shirtless, only in his jeans. Which you try not to make note of the very large and obvious bulge in the crotch. His hair is messy and disheveled, you imagine he had been running his hands through it as he was pacing around.

“Logan?” You walk towards him and he makes a strangled sound. “Are you feeling ok?”

When he turns towards you, your heart races and your breath catches in your throat. He looks so pathetic. Rendered down to some poor animalistic creature. He walks slowly towards you, and when he is a mere step away he grabs your hands and pins them up above you, your back pressed against the door. 

“You should go,” He growls into your ear as he brushes his nose against your jaw. “Too dangerous for you to be in here.”

“Why? You’re not gonna hurt me,” You lean into his touch, resting your head against his.

“Might,” He drops your wrists and tries to step away, but you follow. Keeping the gap between you as small as possible. He groans as you run your hands along his arms, trying to be gentle and encouraging so that he may tell you what’s going on. Before you can ask, he takes one of your hands and slides it underneath the waistband of his pants. 

Your eyes widened as you feel the weight and heat of his cock in your hand. You curiously push your hand down more and feel a swollen bulb at the base of it. Oh. 

Oh. 

Now you understood. You had at some points wondered just how animalistic his mutation was, but now you got it. Late summer was a rather common breeding season for a variety of mammals and it seems as if Logan was one of them. 

“Let me help you,” You slide your fingers up the length of him, tracing the prominent vein on the underneath of the shaft.

“Don’t think that’s a good idea,” He shudders as you wrap your fingers around his cock.

“Why not?” You smile up at him, and you feel him straining to not thrust up into your hand.

“You might regret it.”

“I don’t think so,” you lean up so that your lips are nearly brushing his, and his restrain snaps.

He closes the distance and practically devours you, kissing you rough and desperately. 

It was as if a fire had been reignited within him and he could do nothing to put it out. His hands grasping and clawing at you, wrapping his arms around your waist and squeezing you tight against him. His lips leaving frenzied kisses against your jaw and neck, his teeth grazing the soft skin and his tongue soothing the small marks left in their wake.

He lifted you easily, dragging the both of you towards the bed where he tossed you down against the mess of sheets and pillows. His hands running along the curvature of your body, as if removing himself from you would cause him great pain. His face was wild, that of a crazed man who finally had found whatever he had been searching for.

You were utterly breathless and your heart beat rang in your ears loud as could be. He makes quick work of your clothes, tossing them off somewhere, his hands hardly leaving your body for more than a few seconds. He drags himself away from you for just long enough to find himself kneeling in front of you, pulling you down to the edge of the bed, your legs resting on his shoulders, his head between them, looking up towards you with the most pathetically hungry expression you could have ever imagined.

“You’re sure doll?” His voice is strained and rough. 

You nod, your hands finding their way to tangle in his hair to softly encourage him to continue. He growls and presses his lips to your inner thigh, kissing the soft skin and taking the flesh into his mouth to nibble and bite at. Trailing up and down the length of each thigh, relishing in the small whines and moans leaving your mouth as he decorates your delicate skin with marks. Feeling satisfied that you were now his in this moment, he brings his attention to the aching spot between your thighs, dragging his tongue up through your folds to lap and suck upon your clit. The feeling electric and mind numbing. He slides his tongue along your clit in sloppy circular motions, sucking it in gently, generating small whimpers from you. He growls as he hungrily slurps you up, his patience growing thin as he becomes entirely enveloped in your scent. 

He pulls away from you, a small whine leaving your lips as you sit up and rest on your elbows to watch him. He quickly kicks off his pants, and you gasp when you see him. The tip of his cock is red with need and practically dripping. You feel a bit more intimidated now as you stare wide-eyed at the bulb throbbing at the base of his cock. You could only pray that it would fit. 

Logan smirks and hovers over you, caging you in with his large arms. “Having some regrets, princess?”

“No,” you lift your hips up to shamelessly rub yourself against his erection and he groans. One hand moving down your body to roughly grab your hip pushing you down into the mattress. He slides his cock between your wetness, your breath hitching when the head of his cock bumps against your clit. Your arousal coating him, the slick wet noises make your head spin. 

“Please,” You whine. He presses the tip against your entrance and you try to lift your hips closer to him, begging for it to slide inside. Your breath hitching when it finally does. He moves painfully slow, the drag of his cock slowly stretching you out. A sort of burning rising in your stomach as you strain to be closer to him.

“So desperate,” He huffs, wrapping an arm around you and holding you close against him as he bottoms out. Your whines make his heart ache. “I’ve got you princess, I’m right here.”

You claw at his shoulders, his arms, his back, anything you can reach. The knot at the base of his cock pressing into you, you feel like you could break. Heat spreading over your entire body. You can’t get close enough. You want him to devour you. To take what he needs and worry about you later, but he’s being so gentle that it makes your eyes water. 

His pace stays slow, once he feels you relax, he pulls himself back before pressing in again. Slow, deliberate, patient. He watches your face as you try to play tough, acting like you can handle it despite your trembling. When you flutter around him and a broken moan falls from your mouth he falters.

“I don’t think I can be gentle for much longer,” He whispers against your neck, kissing right below your ear.

“So don’t be,” your whimper flips a switch in him. He would have preferred your first time together to be different than this, to be softer and sweeter. To be kinder to you. But when you beg to help him, and try to take him so good, he can’t help himself. 

He barely hesitates before his pace quickens, and the sheer force of his movements is enough to make your brain fuzzy and dumb. The headboard smacking into the wall with every rough movement, the bed frame creaking beneath you. You’d feel bad about all the noise if you were in any position to feel anything other than Logan ruthlessly fucking you. 

His cock stretches you in such a way that each thrust presses against that sweet spot inside you. The knot at the base pressing against your clit. The slap of it sends little waves of pleasure throughout your body. His pace hardly falters, as you grip onto his arms, your legs tightly wrapped around his waist, desperately trying to take it. To help him through it. Wanting him to use you and be satiated. 

“Fuck, that’s a good girl,” he groans as he feels you tighten around him. You tremble and whine, shaking as your orgasm takes over and you can hardly think of anything as his motions begin to falter too. 

He shudders as he pumps into you, his ruthless pace being diminished into small quick thrusts. You groan as you feel the knot slip in, and he cums. You feel so utterly full as more and more cum is spilled into you. So much so that it’s dripping down onto the mattress beneath you. Your eyes rolling back in your head, and you can feel drool leaking from your open mouth. Your body feeling limp, you can hardly manage to keep your eyes open and steady enough to look at Logan. He seems hardly affected. 

“We’re gonna be here a while, Doll. Don’t get tired on me already,” Logan grins, pressing his lips against your neck and you shudder as you feel his sharp canines graze the sensitive skin.

At least the rest of your summer would be far from boring. 

[goldfades]

❝ 𝐚𝐟𝐜 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐬, burrow. ❞

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine it's crucial that we stand in solidarity with those who need our support. right now, the people of palestine are facing unimaginable hardship, and it's up to all of us to do what we can to help. whether it's raising awareness, donating to relief organizations, or supporting calls for justice and peace, every action counts. we can amplify their voices, shed light on their struggles, and work towards a future where every individual can live with dignity and freedom. your support can make a difference! FREE PALESTINE!

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you give joe his own celebration after winning.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | NSFW! minors pls dni. plot w/ smut, messy head sesh (joe receiving), cigar mentions, praise and um... nothing else? pretty self indulgent.

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | if you guys enjoy this i might just write more for joe 🫣 if you guys have any requests, my inbox is open rn!

The crowd is electric, buzzing with that rare, palpable energy that comes only when an entire city feels the taste of victory on its tongue.

The stadium lights are still blazing, casting a golden glow over the field, and you can see Joe, helmet off, hair slightly mussed from the game. He looks different tonight—not the quiet, calculating Joe who keeps everything just below the surface. This version of him stands tall, eyes sharp, taking it all in with a sly, almost cocky grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You’re swept up in the energy as he walks towards you, chest out, shoulders loose, like he owns the night. His usual restraint is nowhere to be found; every bit of him is reveling in this moment, and it’s as if he knows exactly how everyone is looking at him, yourself included.

The cheers and the chanting blur together, and you feel your pulse match the beat of the stadium around you. He's coming closer, that rare glint in his eye—the kind that says he knows he's good, and tonight, he’s not hiding it. He reaches you, and before you can even say anything, his hands find your hips, pulling you in with a confidence that’s both unexpected and thrilling.

Joe isn’t usually one for public displays, especially after a game when he’s all focus and steady composure, but tonight is different. Tonight, he’s every bit the champion and you can see it in the way he looks at you, like he’s not just savoring the win but the whole world in his hands.

Without a second thought, he cups your face, his touch warm and firm, and his lips crash into yours with a hunger that leaves you breathless. The kiss is fierce, almost possessive, and your heart skips a beat as you realize he doesn’t care that everyone’s watching—that someone, somewhere, probably has their phone out recording this very moment. He’s completely wrapped up in you, and for this one fleeting moment, you’re the only thing that exists.

When he finally pulls back, there’s a smudge of your lipstick on his lips, unmistakable and bold, and he’s got that cocky grin again, wider this time, unbothered by the smear of color. His thumb brushes over your cheek, wiping away a trace of lipstick, his eyes sparking with that rare, unabashed pride.

"Guess I’m taking home two trophies tonight," he murmurs, his voice low, just for you.

His hand stays on your hips, grounding you as you’re both swept up in the exhilaration of the night. The crowd, the lights, the whole stadium could disappear, and it still wouldn’t matter. Joe doesn’t care about anything else—he’s made that clear.

━━━━━

The club pulses with energy, dark and sleek, lit by flashes of neon lights and thrumming to the bass-heavy beat of music that vibrates up through the floor. The exclusive afterparty is alive with players, coaches, friends, and the lucky few who managed an invite, and you can feel the buzz of victory in the air. It’s thick with the thrill of the win, the endless energy of a city that hasn’t been able to stop talking about Joe and the team since last year’s championship.

Joe’s beside you, his hand never leaving your back as he navigates through the crowd, and he’s still got that spark in his eyes. There’s a looseness to him tonight—a magnetic energy that draws everyone in. He’s in his element, basking in it, tossing back easy laughs with his teammates, tossing friendly jabs at anyone who dares question the next championship he has in mind. Every time someone congratulates him, he pulls you closer, and even though he usually keeps things more private, tonight feels like a night for breaking his own rules.

You’re holding onto his arm, laughing along with him, when his teammate Sam catches sight of the lipstick stain that still lingers faintly on Joe’s mouth.

He raises a brow, grinning wide, and elbows Joe. "Looks like the MVP’s got more than a trophy tonight," Sam jokes, his voice teasing but warm.

Joe doesn’t even bother to wipe it off. Instead, he smirks, pulling you closer with a shrug that radiates easy confidence. "Best accessory, don’t you think?" he says, voice low but loud enough to carry over the music, and his arm slides around your waist, holding you against him like he doesn’t plan on letting go.

You laugh, leaning into him as he glances down at you, that cocky spark in his eyes making your pulse race. Joe has always been cool, confident, but tonight there’s something different about him—a unrestrained pride that makes you feel like you’re standing in the middle of something unforgettable.

“Careful,” you tease, looking up at him, your voice playful. “Keep that attitude up, and they’re going to start thinking you’re actually enjoying the attention.”

He chuckles, a low sound that only you can hear. “Guess I might be, just a little,” he admits, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “It’s not every day you get to win back-to-back championships. Gotta let myself enjoy it for once, right?”

Before you can answer, Ja’Marr sidles up beside him, grinning from ear to ear. He’s got that same victorious look in his eyes and you can tell he’s been looking forward to this moment just as much as Joe has. Reaching into his pocket, Ja’Marr pulls out a fat cigar, extending it to Joe with a knowing smirk.

“Time for a victory smoke, QB,” Ja’Marr says, his voice light but laced with pride. “You earned it.”

Joe takes the cigar, turning it over in his hands as if considering it, then lets out a low, appreciative laugh. He glances at you with a grin. “Guess we’re going all out tonight, huh?”

You nod, leaning up to kiss his cheek, and his hand finds your waist again as he turns back to Ja’Marr. “Thanks, man,” Joe says, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Ja’Marr shakes his head, feigning modesty. “Nah, tonight’s all you, bro. I just happened to be along for the ride.” He steps back, lifting his own glass in a toast, and the whole crew around you does the same, echoing the sentiment as they raise their drinks.

“To Joey,” Ja’Marr calls, his voice carrying over the music. “And to running this city two years straight!”

The crowd roars in agreement, and Joe raises the cigar in salute before flashing that unrestrained smile again, lighting it up with a satisfied exhale. He takes a slow, deliberate drag, letting the smoke curl lazily from his lips as he relaxes back against the booth, pulling you close beside him.

“You know,” he says, glancing at you with a grin that’s both relaxed and intoxicatingly self-assured, “could get used to this whole king-of-the-city thing. But only if you’re here with me.”

“Think I could make that work,” you reply, smiling as you tuck yourself against him, his arm solid and warm around you.

Joe leans back in the booth, his arm still looped around you, his blue eyes sharp and unmistakably bold as he exhales a long, lazy stream of smoke. There’s a cocky tilt to his mouth, something magnetic that holds your gaze, and when he catches you staring, that grin only deepens.

“You look a little too comfortable holding court like this,” you say, smirking, leaning into him just enough that your knee brushes his.

He gives you a look that makes your stomach flip, tilting his head as he takes another drag from the cigar, never breaking eye contact. “I think I’m right where I’m supposed to be tonight,” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, just loud enough for you to hear over the noise.

The way he says it, like he owns the moment—and maybe you, too—sends a thrill down your spine. You lift your chin, refusing to look away, feeling the tension spark like electricity between you.

“You sure you can handle the attention?” you challenge, arching a brow. “I don’t remember you being one for the spotlight.”

“Oh, I can handle it,” he replies, voice dripping with confidence. He leans in, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him, his lips a mere breath away from yours. “Question is, can you?”

His eyes are dark, daring, and you feel his hand press against your waist, fingers brushing the bare skin where your shirt rides up slightly. The club is hot, noisy, and every beat of the music seems to pulse between you, building the tension.

Before you can answer, he leans in even closer, his mouth hovering by your ear. “Because from where I’m sitting,” he murmurs, “you’re looking at me like you’re ready to break a few of my rules tonight.”

━━━━━

And that's how you ended up back at the hotel, on your knees, looking up at Joe like he was the only thing that mattered. The room is quiet now, a stark contrast to the pulsing energy of the club, but the silence makes everything feel sharper, more charged. The dim lights cast a soft glow over him, highlighting the confidence that radiates off him with every breath, every small movement.

He’s standing there, looking down at you, his eyes dark, studying you with that intensity that makes your heart race. There’s a cocky, satisfied smile playing at the corner of his lips—a hint of pride that you can’t help but want to unravel. You can see the subtle rise and fall of his chest, his breathing steady, controlled, even though you know he’s feeling every second of this as much as you are.

Joe’s hand lingers on your face, tilting your chin up just a bit more as he watches you, his eyes tracing every detail like he wants to commit it to memory.

Your hands worked on his belt as he let out a quiet groan and he doesn’t stop you, lets you take control for a moment, and the way his breath catches in his chest makes something inside you stir. He’s always the confident one, the one who stays in control, but tonight, in this space, everything feels different. It’s like he’s giving you the freedom to move, to touch, to test just how far you can push him.

“God,” he mutters, his hand sliding from your face to the back of your neck, his fingers curling just lightly around it, like he’s marking his place, claiming it without saying a word. His thumb gently strokes over your skin, sending a pulse of heat through you as you finish loosening his belt.

The moment the buckle comes free, you pull him closer, your fingers tracing his waistband as you look up at him, your lips just a breath away from where he needed you most. His chest rises and falls rapidly now, a sign that you’re getting to him, that the tension is starting to break.

He leans down slightly, his breath hot against your ear, voice low and rough. “You know, you could make me forget the whole damn night with just a single move.”

You smile, a slow, teasing thing, as you drag your hands down to his bulge, feeling the muscles in his stomach tighten in anticipation. There’s a challenge in his eyes, a dare, but you don’t rush, taking your time, letting every moment hang between you like a promise. The way he’s watching you, waiting for your next move, only makes the tension between you more intense.

Joe’s gaze darkens even more, the intensity turning almost possessive as his hand sliding into your hair again, gently pulling you up to meet his lips in a kiss that’s every bit as hungry and desperate as it is passionate. He’s pulling you closer and you can feel the weight of him, the heat of his body, as he presses you back on the floor.

“You have no idea how much I want you right now,” he breathes against your lips, his voice low, full of need. The way he says it, like he can’t hold back, makes you ache with want. He falls back on a chair behind him, his eyes full of need. You know exactly what he wants as he spreads his thighs.

“Come on, baby. Give me what I want,” he urges breathlessly as you find your way in between his thighs.

Your hands slide back to his thighs, fingers brushing against the hard lines of his body, and you can feel his chest rising and falling with every breath he takes.

You finally pull off his underpants, freeing his hardened length. He lets out a breath as his hand pulls your hair into a makeshift ponytail. Joe doesn't wait any longer, he pushes you downward until your lips meet his warm tip.

“Taking your time, huh?” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire, a hint of impatience flickering in his eyes as he watches every movement you make. There’s a slight smirk on his lips, but it fades quickly as you press a little closer, opening your mouth to finally take him.

He lets out a guttural groan as his grip tightens in your hair. The taste of him is intoxicating, you couldn't help but let out a sound of your own. Your lips wrap around his thick cock effortlessly, taking him slowly.

Joe wasn't in the slow mood, though. His grip in your hair didn't loosen as he began moving your head in his own accord, your muffled moans egging him on. The tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, making you gag as your fingers scratched his thigh instinctively.

“That's it, baby,” he groaned breathlessly. “Take my cock, just like that.”

Your jaw was already sore, your chin was dripping with a mix of your saliva and his pre-cum but somehow you still relished in this. Your eyes were watering as you tried to keep them open, watching Joe's every expression and hearing every sound. Every praise that left his mouth spurred you on, your mouth sliding up and down his wet cock.

And despite the mess you've made, Joe still thought you were the sexiest woman alive. He couldn't look at you any longer, because he swore he would just cum at the mere sight. You slipped off his cock, your tongue flicking his tip as you caught your breath. You slowly took him back in, humming at the feeling of being so full.

His hand tightened in your hair as his head fell back on the chair, his mouth slightly open as he groaned. “Oh fuck, yeah. Keep going,” he grunted. “Gonna cum, fuck.”

Before you could even react, his cum filled your mouth as you moaned around his cock. You tried your best to swallow all of it before you slipped off, your chest rising up and down. Looking up at Joe, he wore a fucked-out expression, all his previous cockiness had softened into something raw and unguarded.

His head is tilted back against the chair, a lazy smile tugging at his lips as he tries to catch his breath, his gaze finding yours with a look that’s equal parts amazement and satisfaction. The flicker of dim hotel light casts shadows across his face, highlighting his features in a way that makes him look almost softer, stripped down to just Joe, without the bravado and the public image.

He lets out a breathless laugh, running a hand through his hair, which is now mussed and a little wild. “Think you just ruined me,” he murmurs, voice still thick, a slight rasp lingering from the exertion.

His hand reaches down, fingers grazing your shoulder before sliding up to brush against your cheek, his touch unexpectedly gentle as he takes in every inch of you with that slightly dazed, contented gaze.

You smile, a satisfied warmth spreading through you as you sit back, watching him collect himself, looking at him in this quiet, vulnerable moment. “Maybe I just wanted to see if I could,” you reply, voice raspy with an edge of pride. You know the effect you’ve had on him, and the thrill of it lingers in the air between you, sparking like the last remnants of a fire.

Joe chuckles, his fingers trailing lightly along your jaw, then down to your chin, where he tilts your face up to meet his eyes fully. “Oh, trust me,” he says, his gaze darkening again, though now softened with something deeper, “you’ve got me right where you want me.��� He leans forward, his lips brushing yours in a soft, almost tender kiss that lingers longer than you expect, as if he wants to savor the moment. He could taste himself on your tongue, making his ego skyrocket.

For a minute, neither of you speaks. There’s just the sound of your breaths mingling, his other hand slips up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear and he gives you this look that makes your heart race all over again, even after everything that just happened.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[hoe4hotchner]

Hi!! If you still take requests could I request Hotch helping a fellow bau member after she tried to hide her ocd from him (like intrusive thoughts, counting and blinking hard etc not cleaning or contamination ocd)

Thanks! xoxo 🧡🧡

Blink twice, tap four times, hold your breath and count to six | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x bau!gn!Reader | WC: 0.5k  | CW: OCD | Summary: Hotch reasures reader when he notices their OCD being a little more frequent than usual |

You were certain you’d been subtle about it, always careful to keep your mind’s demands invisible. Blinking patterns, counting in repetitive loops, moving your fingers until they felt “right” — these things were all in the quiet spaces, hidden behind closed doors and the shuffle of paperwork. Or so you thought.

But Hotch was observant, maybe too observant for your own good. It started with small things: his brow creasing when you tapped your fingers on the table during briefings, his quiet gaze following when you seemed lost in thought, counting silently to bring calm. You brushed it off, certain he was just being his usual analytical self, until the day his concern broke through the usual boundaries he had set for himself.

It was late, everyone else had gone home for the night. You’d been poring over files, a trail of cold coffee cups beside you, trying to distract yourself from the prickling anxiety that had settled in your mind since a particularly tough case. Then it happened again — blink twice, tap four times, hold your breath and count to six, over and over. You weren’t sure how long you’d been repeating it, but when you looked up, Hotch was standing in the doorway to the conference room — You sometimes worked on your files in there to keep your mind on track.

“Can I come in?” he asked gently.

You cleared your throat, swallowing the reflexive answer to brush him off. “Of course.”

He entered, closing the door behind him, the soft click echoing in the quiet room. You half-expected a reprimand, a reminder to go home and rest, but his gaze was unusually soft, something between empathy and understanding.

“I noticed you’ve been… distracted lately,” he began, his words careful. “More than usual.”

The confession sat on the edge of your tongue, bitter and unwelcome. “It’s nothing. I just get… caught up sometimes.”

He nodded slowly as if weighing your answer. “We all have our patterns,” he said, his voice low and calm. “But if they’re weighing on you, you don’t have to hide them. Not from me.”

The words caught you off-guard. Your heart pounded, the intrusive thoughts flaring up in response to his kindness, an immediate discomfort in your chest at the vulnerability.

“Hotch, I don’t want anyone to think… that I can’t handle this.” The admission tumbled out, quieter than you’d intended. “Sometimes, my brain… it gets stuck in loops. It makes me repeat things to feel okay.”

He nodded as though he’d known it all along. “You’re one of the most resilient agents I know. But you don’t have to manage all of this alone.” He took a seat beside you, close enough that you could feel his presence. “If something is weighing on you, I want you to tell me. I can help.”

There was a soothing rhythm to his words, one that almost matched the way you counted, but softer and kinder. You swallowed, fighting the wave of embarrassment that rose at the idea of admitting everything. But his hand, warm and steady, rested on yours.

“I don’t think less of you,” he continued his voice barely a murmur. “In fact, I have more respect for you than you realize. What you’re dealing with doesn’t make you weak — it shows your strength.”

You closed your eyes, letting his words settle in your mind like stones sinking to the bottom of a pond.

“Thank you,” you whispered, the words carrying all the gratitude you hadn’t known you were holding.

[passengerprincessblog]

“Intern”~ pt. 1 Max Verstappen x reader

Disclaimer: Reader doesn’t have to be blonde! The images is just to show she’s working for the team!

Warnings: degrading? Mean max.

Summary: The series follows Y/N, a fresh and slightly timid media intern for the Red Bull Racing team, who is thrown into the chaotic, high-stakes world of Formula 1. Her job quickly becomes challenging not only because of the high-pressure environment but because of Max Verstappen, the star driver with a talent for making her feel small and flustered. Max’s arrogance and relentless teasing leave her feeling out of her depth, yet strangely captivated. Despite his condescending demeanor, there’s an undeniable pull between them, a tension that seems to simmer just beneath the surface.

I sit quietly in the corner of the motorhome, tapping nervously on my phone as I check my messages. The whole atmosphere here is intimidating, even more so when Max Verstappen and Checo stroll in, laughing at some private joke. Their easy confidence is almost tangible, filling the room with a sense of belonging I can only hope to someday feel.

Max’s eyes land on me for a split second, and I quickly look away, pretending to be engrossed in a message from my boss, Adam. I can feel my cheeks heat up just from that brief eye contact. It’s silly, but he’s… well, he’s Max Verstappen. There’s something intimidating in the way he looks at people, like he’s sizing them up and finding them lacking. And, of course, I’m not immune to his scrutiny.

The only time he’s spoken to me before, he’d made a throwaway comment that left me red-faced. He wasn’t even trying to be mean—it just slipped out, something about me “looking lost.” The memory of my blush and his faint smirk is still fresh, and I can’t seem to shake it.

My phone buzzes with a message from Adam: Can you come to Meeting Room 3 ASAP?

With a deep breath, I make my way to the meeting room, hoping Adam’s request isn’t something beyond my skill level. When I arrive, he looks a bit frazzled, glancing up from his stack of papers with an apologetic smile.

“Y/N, I know you’re still new, and I haven’t had the chance to train you properly…” he starts, running a hand through his hair. “But we’re short-staffed this weekend, so I need you to help the media team cover for the missing people. Think you’re up for it?”

I swallow hard, my nerves tightening at the idea of being around Max and the rest of the drivers more than I already have been. But I don’t want to let Adam down; he’s been nothing but encouraging since I started, always pushing me to do better, to learn more. It’s why I like him so much as a boss.

“Of course, Adam,” I reply, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “What do you need me to do?”

He hands me a tablet and goes over the details. My main job will be to record the drivers’ answers during interviews, ensuring we have accurate records. I’ll also assist Andrew with media release forms. It’s straightforward, but the thought of messing up in front of Max makes my stomach churn.

Later in the day, Adam decides it’s time for a proper introduction. He drags me into the garage, where Max is leaning against one of the cars, arms folded as he talks with a mechanic. When he sees us approaching, he raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as if he already knows I’m way out of my league.

“Max, this is Y/N,” Adam says cheerfully. “She’s helping us out with the media coverage this weekend. We’re a bit understaffed, so she’ll be shadowing you a lot.”

Max looks me up and down, his gaze almost clinical, as if he’s evaluating whether I’ll be a help or a hindrance. He smiles, but it’s the polite kind—the one people give when they’re forced to interact with someone they don’t particularly care about.

“Hi, Y/N,” he says, offering a brief nod. “So, they haven’t trained you yet, huh?”

My cheeks flush, and I look away, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. There’s something so arrogant about him, the way he stands there, completely sure of himself. Why does he have to be like this? He’s just a driver, after all. A very talented one, sure, but still just a person. But his energy—the way he carries himself—makes it clear he’s used to people fawning over him.

“Not yet,” I reply, managing to keep my voice steady.

He just chuckles, clearly amused. “Well, I’ll break you in.” He says quietly enough for me to hear.

What? What did he just- I blink and smile at him.

A few hours later, we’re on our way to the media pen after qualifying. I’m clutching the tablet tightly, going over my mental checklist to make sure I have everything. Just as we reach the interview area, I realize with a sickening jolt that I’ve left the team phone back in the motorhome.

I take a deep breath, feeling the embarrassment already creeping up my cheeks. “Um… Max?” I ask hesitantly, trying to keep my voice steady. “Do you mind waiting a minute?”

He looks at me, eyebrow raised, amusement flickering in his eyes. “You forgot the phone, didn’t you?” he says, not even bothering to hide his smirk. “Let me guess—you didn’t think you’d need it?”

I nod, my cheeks heating up further, and I try to apologize. “I’m sorry, it won’t take long—”

“Oh, don’t worry, intern,” he says, emphasizing the title like it’s an insult. “I know you’re new, but I figured you’d be a bit smarter than that. Or is this your way of making sure I remember your name?”

His tone is light, but the words sting. I try to laugh it off, but it comes out more like a nervous squeak. “It’s just… I thought I had everything.”

He leans closer, making me meet his gaze, his expression full of condescension. “Don’t look so nervous. I’m asking you a question,” he says slowly, clearly enjoying how uncomfortable I am.

“I… I know. I just—”

“Didn’t think?” he cuts me off, chuckling to himself. “It’s fine. Go on, intern. Fetch the phone. I’ll wait here, seeing as you’re so eager to do a good job.”

I nod and practically sprint back to the motorhome, my mind racing. By the time I return with the phone, my cheeks are still burning, and I can tell from the look on his face that he’s pleased with himself.

During the interviews, I focus on recording Max’s answers, refusing to make eye contact. I can feel him glancing at me every few moments, as if he’s waiting for me to make another mistake, something else he can latch onto. But I keep my head down, determined to finish this task without another hitch.

Later that day, Adam calls me aside, a slight frown on his face as he glances at a form in his hands. “Y/N, I need Max’s signature on this media release form. Looks like you forgot to get it earlier.”

I feel my heart sink. Another mistake. Another opportunity for Max to remind me just how out of place I am here. Swallowing my pride, I head to his driver’s room, my hands shaking slightly as I knock on the door.

“Come in,” he calls, sounding a bit exasperated.

I step inside, holding the form and pen. He’s lounging on a chair, scrolling through his phone, barely sparing me a glance. “Um, Max… I just need you to sign this release form.”

He finally looks up, an infuriatingly smug smile on his face. “Intern, I thought we went over this,” he says, leaning back with a mock sigh. “Didn’t I tell you earlier to get it all done at once?”

“I… I’m sorry. I just—”

“Forgot. Again,” he interrupts, looking like he’s thoroughly enjoying himself. “Is this going to be a habit with you? Or should I expect you to keep knocking on my door every five minutes?”

I can feel the embarrassment flooding my cheeks, but I hold out the paper and pen, refusing to let him see how much his words sting. “It won’t happen again,” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.

He takes the form from me, signing it with a flourish, but not before giving me one last smirk. “Let’s hope not. I don’t have time to babysit, intern.” he says, clearly enjoying himself.

He doesn’t hand the form back to me. Instead, he holds onto it, his fingers curling around the edges, teasing me as I reach out, waiting for him to relinquish it. But he makes no move to do so. His smirk only widens, and I feel a sinking sensation in my stomach.

“Maybe,” he begins, his tone dripping with mock thoughtfulness, “maybe I shouldn’t give it back to you. Maybe you should learn from your mistakes.” He pauses, watching as I grow visibly more uncomfortable under his scrutiny. And then, with a single, swift movement, he crumples the paper in his fist.

My mouth falls open in shock, and he raises an eyebrow, clearly pleased with himself.

“Do you need a babysitter, Y/N?” he taunts, his voice soft but laced with condescension. “Is that what you’re asking for? Because that’s what it looks like to me. Someone to hold your hand, make sure you don’t make any more silly mistakes.”

His words sting, each one hitting me like a small slap to my pride. I can feel frustration bubbling up inside me, the urge to snap back at him nearly overwhelming. But I bite my tongue, swallowing the retort building in my throat. I can’t risk my job, no matter how badly I want to put him in his place.

Instead, I take a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. “No… I’m sorry,” I mumble, trying to keep any hint of annoyance out of my voice. It takes everything I have not to glare at him, but I keep my expression as neutral as possible.

Max’s smirk only grows at my response. He seems to revel in my discomfort, enjoying every second of this little power play. He lets the crumpled paper fall from his hand, watching it drift to the floor near his feet. “If you’re so sorry,” he says, gesturing to the paper on the ground, “then pick it up and make it work. I’m sure a little crease won’t stop an intern like you, right?”

I hesitate for a moment, the indignation flaring up again, but I bite it back. He’s baiting me, waiting for me to snap so he has another reason to belittle me. So, without another word, I crouch down, reaching for the paper that lies just near his feet. I can feel his eyes on me the entire time, that smug satisfaction radiating off him as I pick up the wrinkled form and straighten back up, clutching it tightly.

I want to say something, to tell him off, to make him realize how unbearable he’s being. But all I do is nod, the words caught in my throat as I straighten the paper as best I can. Max watches me, one eyebrow raised in clear amusement, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Say thank you,” he commands, his tone soft but dripping with authority.

I clench my jaw, every fiber of my being resisting the urge to roll my eyes. But I know better. I swallow my pride, forcing myself to look up at him, though the words feel heavy on my tongue. “Thank you,” I say, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

He tilts his head, that smirk growing, clearly pleased by my forced gratitude. “See you tomorrow, intern,” he says, his tone dismissive, as if I’m nothing more than a minor inconvenience in his day.

Without another word, I turn and leave, clutching the wrinkled paper in my hand, his mocking gaze burning into my back as I step out of the room.

——————————————-

Thank you for reading! 😇

Remember, liking and following let’s me know you want more writings! 💜

[hereforthehitsbaby]

prompt: hugh is your sugar daddy and he just bought you a new dress to wear at a movie premiere after party, but he cant resist wanting to take it off of you (also ur writings are fantastic 🩷)

Don’t I Look So Pretty? | Sugar Daddy!Hugh Jackman x F!Reader

Warnings: Sugar Daddy, Age Gap (Reader is in their late 20’s – Hugh is 56) Secretive Relationship, Heavy Make Out, Hugh is Touchy Feely, Mentions of Smut, Mentions of Divorce, Choking, Biting, Thigh Riding, Slight Pain Kink,

Rating: M – No Minors

Word Count: 4.1k

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for being my first ever High request! I was on the fence about doing RPF but you know what? I cannot pass up Sugar Daddy Hugh like that! Also I 100% spaced on the fact that you said after party and just wrote the premiere. I hope that was okay!

To be tagged in any future work of mine, please fill this out.

How did you get so lucky? That was the age-old question in your mind. How did you go from working a 9-5 office job directly after getting your Masters, to now being a sugar baby? It still surprised you, knowing this was your life. A small studio apartment turned into a lavish penthouse. Your car that barely turned on anymore got upgraded to a brand-new Aston Martin; You’ve never driven it though – why would you if you have a private driver now? How you went from living and working independently to being a princess in less than a few months boggled your mind, but you wouldn’t trade it in for the world. You were happy, for the first time in a long time.

Meeting Hugh Jackman was luck of the draw. You never realized how close your old job was to his home in the city, nor to his favorite coffee shop downtown. That was your solace after long days and dreaded mornings; Extra strong coffee and a bagel was your go-to. Seeing him each time meant that your day was going to be okay, his tender smile and short but sweet conversations got you through your week. It first started off as your favorites being already paid for, not having to waste your own dime anymore. Then it was your parking lot fees being comped, gas being prepaid, food constantly being delivered – all the way up to your rent being paid in full for four months. That is when things took a turn, Hugh didn’t just chat you up to keep your company in the mornings, this time around he was setting terms. Falling into the roll of his sugar baby came so naturally, it was hard to know anything else. You felt bliss, complete happiness knowing you didn’t have to go back to your boring office job. You didn’t have to appease people who truly wanted to use you as a stepping stool for their own success, you could be free from the bullshit of it all. You never looked back, and you never would. Everything you needed was in front of you, and you wanted to keep it that way.

A year of being Hugh’s sugar baby was everything you wanted, and everything he needed. Though this was the first time he had ever asked you to come to a movie premiere with him. It was hush-hush, especially after the divorce he went through. Hugh didn’t take you on as his sugar baby for sexual reasons, but more for companionship. You both were lonely, seeking a connection and why not do it with someone who made you two feel comfortable. As time went on though, those fleeting touches and longing stares burned right through you. Ryan always said it was a match made; He could see through the charade. So here you sit in your closet, at your vanity getting your makeup done. Staring into the mirror while your personal glam team dolls you up, you reminisced about how things have been for the last year, how much happier you are, how deeply you fell in love with Hugh. Not that you’d ever admit it to him, what you had now was good. You didn’t want to ruin that.

“Alright gorgeous, you are set.” Your makeup artist smiled as your hair stylist finished up with the hairspray. Looking up into the mirror, you were taken aback by the image in front of you. You knew you were pretty, beautiful even but right now? You look ethereal. There was a glow on your face not even the makeup could cover up, the way your eyes shined like you were blissfully happy with life. You looked like a painting, nothing seemed real but a perfect portrait of a girl in love. Tears welled in the corner of your eyes as you took yourself in, gasping lowly as your makeup artist set his chin on your shoulder, smiling with you. “Those heart eyes are all you, babe. He’s going to drop to his knees when he sees you.” You couldn’t help but feel the heat creeping up your neck to fan over your cheeks, your body shivering at his words. “I hope, I really hope.” You smiled small into the mirror, heart hammering as you thought of Hugh.

Before you could even begin to silently ponder the reaction he would have to you, a line of giggles fluttered in from the open closet door, humming ensuing as the blonde bun came back in sight. “Special delivery for a special girl,” your hair stylist laughed as she held the box in her hands. You cocked a brow as you spun around in your chair, flicking a silent what in her direction before looking at her hands. An ivory box with a gentle purple ribbon tied in a bow sat in her palms, causing your heart to swell. Biting your glossed lip, you took the box slowly from her hands, seeing a little envelope with your name written out tucked beneath. As you placed the box on your lap, you reached out to run your fingers across the ink, feeling how your fingers shook with anticipation. Gently you grasped the corner of the envelope, opening the back with a quick flick of your finger before pulling the card out.

I couldn’t stop thinking about you when I saw this. I knew I needed to see you in it. Can’t wait to see my pretty girl tonight. Having you by my side is going to feel so right.

Yours, Hugh xx

If you had any doubts before, you knew now that no matter what, Hugh was going to be obsessed with you. It never crossed your mind that he was going to buy you a dress for tonight, much less get it wrapped and ready to go. Especially on such short notice, it was the little actions he did that made you love him even more. Holding the sweet note to your chest, you swooned softly as you let your free hand work the box open, seeing the pearlescent tissue paper covering your dress. Your hair stylist didn’t waste a moment to help you out, lifting the paper back so you could see what Hugh had picked. A deep sapphire blue dress, with little beads twisting to mimic vines across the bodice of the dress, all the way down well passed the hips. The sweetheart neckline perfectly complimented the sheer long sleeves that came down to your wrist.

As your makeup artist and hair stylist grabbed the dress out for you, holding it up, you noticed the deep slit up to the middle of your thigh, causing your breathing to become labored. It was stunning, truly a beauty you have never seen before. Hugh has bought you so many lavish pieces of jewelry, purses, dresses, but nothing ever so you. This didn’t feel like something perfectly curated to fit what you wanted, but something that you would’ve made yourself. Something you would’ve dreamed of wearing. The small notion that he saw this and thought of you made you want to cry – it was too sweet for you to begin. Quickly your makeup artist came over to fan your face, making sure no tears fell over his hard work. That simple action had you laughing away the emotion welling up within you, making it hard to overthink.

A couple face fanning and strategically helping you into the dress so your hair nor makeup go ruined, finally you were in your dress. It felt right against you, like truly it belonged to you, was curated for you, was meant to be for you only. Now as you stand in front of the full length mirror staring at yourself, you felt like you. The way the color complimented not just your figure, but your skin color was the best. You felt like a goddess, you felt like an angel on Earth. You felt powerful, enough to take down an entire empire. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you took a deep breath as you smiled, ready to show Hugh what he had really bought for you. Your glamour team rubbed your arm and back as you began to walk out of the closet, giving you that extra boost you may need.

Thankfully living with Hugh made it so much easier to surprise him, not having to walk down a grand staircase or even stand outside of the door. Simply you could walk out of the closet, into your bedroom, and right into the living room where he was standing. His back was facing you as his front faced the fireplace, a hand pressed against the mantle as his other nursed a glass of water. In this moment you didn’t have to say anything or move an inch. Hugh could feel that you were behind him, he could smell your perfume and instantly felt his body run hot. He longed for you, each and every day. Though you two weren’t intimate, it didn’t stop the deep connection you developed with each other. Having that emotional connection was perfect, even if a physical one didn’t happen. Being a sugar daddy was new to him too; Ryan told him not to fall in love but, with you he couldn’t help it.

Slowly Hugh turned around from his position, his eyes unfocused behind his glasses. From his fuzzy vision he could make out the color of your dress, and knew he wasn’t going to be able to handle this. As his vision came back into focus, Hugh sucked a breath in, eyes dilating at what he was seeing. Starting at your face, he let his eyes wander over your features, taking in your beauty from a few steps away. He was wondering how the hell he got so lucky, how he had the fortune of existing at the same time as you, you were everything to him. Slowly his eyes careened down to your neck, ghosting over your chest and down your front. Each flick of his gaze caused your body to grow warm, the slick between your thighs growing more and more. Once his eyes fell upon the generous slit in your dress, once emerald eyes turned obsidian. His facial features never moved, they stayed in their frozen state as his eyes flicked back to you, his mouth agape.

“Woah,” Hugh breathed out, his heart pounding in his chest. You couldn’t stop yourself from giggling, biting your lip as you slowly made your way to him. The strawberry vanilla lotion you had used wafted through his nostrils, mixed with your perfume made him feral. It was then you noticed how his tie matched the color of your dress, causing you to feel warm and fuzzy. The little details like that made it special for you, made this relationship feel not monetary – but real. “That bad, huh?” You snorted out, running your fingers down the collar of his blazer as your eyes remained on his. You could see there was something more brewing beneath his gaze, but he wasn’t showing – he was shutting it out for his own sake. Hugh laid his hands on your lips as he looked deep into your eyes, smiling like a man obsessed. “You look perfect. I knew this dress was made for you.”

Hearing him say that made your smile turn wide, leaning forth to give him a small kiss on the cheek as you let your breath waft over his ear. “Thank you for this, Hugh. That was too kind. You’re too sweet.” They were the best set of words you could string together; Under his stare this time around, you couldn’t think coherently. The energy between the two of you had shifted – once full of pink and purple lights now swam in dark reds and emerald. It was thick, not suffocating but held you both in. You felt your body pushing against his without even thinking about it, Hugh could feel it too. Bringing his hand up to caress your jaw, his eyes fell to your lips, enraptured by the color chosen to compliment the dress. “Anything for my baby. You ready?” He smiled, his eyes never leaving your mouth. Nodding against his hand, you moved your head slightly to the side as you kissed his palm, holding your other hand against his chest. “As I’ll ever be.”

That was all Hugh needed to hear to grab your hand, bringing the back up to his lips as he let his kiss linger. Taking your hand into his, you both made your way out to the town car with his driver, making your way to the premiere.

-----

Everything that you could’ve possibly thought a red carpet for a premiere could be, you got to experience. It was a blur of lights and yelling but it was magical. Seeing how the cast latched onto Hugh and his excellence made your heart grow fond. Seeing how many of his friends came out to support him warmed your insides. Tonight was about him and his amazing performance, to be tagging along with him to experience this was a dream come true. Though you didn’t want the full red-carpet experience; Seeing the plethora of lights and cameras shuttering made you feel lightheaded. Instead, you made your way over his Hugh’s assistant, falling right behind him in step as he made his way around to interviews with Hugh. This was your choice at the end of the day, Hugh was okay with what made you feel safe, but a part of him wishes he could’ve had you on the carpet with him, showing off his girl.

Everything flew by in the snap of your fingers, interviews and pictures were completely done with now as you two made it into the packed theater. The complimentary concessions stand was buzzing to life with all the celebrities wanting a snack, the chatter gradually got quieter as people started to make their way to their seats. You could feel your nerves on edge as you looked around. Hugh leaned closer to you as he laced his arm your waist, holding you to him as he ran his thumb over the dress. Turning your face up to look at him, you could see that his brows were pulled together. He looked upset, worried even as his eyes panned around the room. It was something you have never see Hugh do before, and you wondered what was the matter. “You okay, Hugh?” You asked as you held him close, placing your lips near his shoulder

Your words seemed to have broken him out of his internal thoughts, causing him to come back into reality. “Hm? Oh yeah, I’m great!” He chimed, leaning down to lay a kiss on your temple. It felt staged, artificial. Was he nervous about all the people? About bringing you along? Was he not wanting to see someone? Too many questions placated your mind as you tried to read Hugh’s expression. You could see a small glimmer of pain in his eyes as he searched the room, his breathing become harsh. Rubbing your hand along his lower back, you placed your hip against his, leaning as close as you possibly could so only he could hear you. “You sure? You look distracted.” You knew he was, and you were silently hoping he would tell you why, but alas he looked down at you with a blank stare, trying to mask how he was feeling. “I’m okay, my darling.”

Nodding up at Hugh, you gave him a small smile as you looked back at the crowd. It was then that you heard a small gasp of success from Hugh’s lips, not giving you time to ask what was going on. Hugh was a man on a mission, and wasn’t going to stop until he got what he wanted. His hand wrapped to yours tightly, tugging you through the theater. As you pushed your way through the line Hugh had made for you, you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his eagerness. Hugh wasn’t upset but he was excited for something, of which you could not tell. But the way he looked back at you made your skin alight in adoration, his eyes sparkling with something more than like. You felt your body run hot as he stared at you, pulling you closer. Rounding the corner near the theater entrances, Hugh noted the light blue door at the end of the hall, humming out as he started to sprint with you.

Gathering the skirt of your dress in your free hand, you made good pace with Hugh as he led you to the door. Pushing it open with ease, you were met with the brightly lit interior of the bathroom, causing you to squint slightly. The bright light threw you off your balance as Hugh fully pulled you into the bathroom, maneuvering your body while you tried to adjust to the light. As your eyes finally focused, you felt your back being pressed up against the bathroom door, locking it with a harsh click. Hugh had both of your wrists clasped into his hands, holding them strictly above your head. Your eyes went wide at the action, staring into his blackened ones, your breathing labored in comparison to his easy one. “Hugh! What-“ You yelped out, but were cut short by Hugh shaking his head. His salt and peppered beard ran over your cheek as he tucked his head down, his breath sliding across your neck. “Sshh, don’t talk. Don’t talk.”

You obeyed his command as you whimpered, letting your eyes fall closed naturally at the feeling of him pressed against you. Hugh pulled his head back from your neck as he stared down at you, bringing his left hand down to grab at your chin, pointing your face up towards him. You could see the feral nature wanting to slip out and play with you, wanting to add physical contact to your relationship. You could see how Hugh was fighting it back with each breath, the small line teetering the deeper you gazed. You didn’t want just an emotional connection anymore, you wanted to make good on your job of sugar baby, giving Hugh exactly what he needs. He could see that in your eyes as well, the conflict of whether it would be a good idea. Tonight was a night of firsts, why not add that to the menu? A slight whimper left Hugh’s mouth as you pressed your breasts to him, leaning forth to nip at his bottom lip. “Earlier you asked me if I was okay. I lied, I’m not okay.” He sounded as if he was in pain, causing a wave of arousal to slip through your lower lips.

You felt your mind going hazy at the lack of space you two had, adding to the tension you wanted to slice with a knife. “W-What’s up?” It came out more as a moan than a sincere question, and you felt Hugh’s reserve slipping away. A chuckle of arousal slipped from his parted lips as he slid his left hand from your chin, to your neck. The action itself made your body sing, your eyes rolling back as he pushed. He was holding you hard enough so you couldn’t move, but not hard enough to where you couldn’t breathe. Instead, his thumb and first finger found your pulse point, pushing down to restrict the blood flow to your head, making your sight go fuzzy. “Fuck it,” Hugh let out with a growl. There was not enough time to respond before he pressed his mouth to yours, invading your senses.

Time stopped in that moment, slowing down enough to fully take in this moment. The first kiss of your relationship with Hugh, something you two have been wanting so bad over the last year. The floodgates had broken in this moment, letting you two embark on this voyage of discovery. His lips slotting against yours like he was made for you, how your mouth formed perfectly to his. The simple flicks of your tongue against his ignited the fire from within, causing you to burn to ash and be born anew. You struggled against Hugh’s grasp, wanting nothing more than to hold him close to you, feel every ridge of his body under your palms, to feel his burning passion. As if he had read your mind, Hugh had let your hands go, deepening the kiss. A sultry moan slipped past your parted lips as he licked into your mouth, letting him swallow it down.

Your hands slid down as he released his grasp, finding purchase on his hips. Letting your left-hand maneuver upwards, you tangled your fingers into Hugh hair at the base of his neck, giving the roots a soft tug. A growl escapes his lips and pours into your mouth; His right hand working its way under the slit of your dress to hold your plush thigh. The tantalizing touch of his calloused fingers against your baren skin made you want to scream in pleasure, to let this man ravish you all across the world. Hugh pulled back, panting like an animal as he gripped at your neck tighter, his touch shaking. “I can’t stop thinking about stripping you out of this dress.” Hugh sounded like he was in pain, a primal sound you have never heard him make. He sounded like a man possessed, the only cure was to make you scream his name.

A moan slipped out of his mouth as his hand slipped between your legs, feeling how sopping your cunt was at making out with him. Feeling his fingers slide against your panties made your knees buckle. Hugh stuck his knee between your thighs to hold you up, burying his face into your neck. “God, I fucking need you baby. I can’t do this any longer.” Hearing his desperate he was for you made you feel powerful, your hand gripping his hair tighter as he ravishes your neck. Hugh’s lips latched on roughly to the skin of your throat, suckling against the sweet scent of you. His knee on the other hand, slid back and forth against you, letting your erect clit nudge the soft fabric. Everything was too much, every feeling was too much, yet you didn’t want any of it to stop.

Grinding yourself down against his thigh, Hugh took that as an opportunity to bite into your neck, not hard enough to break skin but enough to mark what’s his. That was enough to send you over the edge, digging your nails into the back of his neck as you tossed your head back against the door. Against your core thigh you could feel Hugh growing harder, silently begging to make him cum. The mere size of him shocked you, knowing he would give you a good stretch if you tried. Just the thought was enough to put you on edge, his words aiding in your arousal. “If I’m not inside of you in the next two seconds, I might pass out.” You couldn’t take it anymore, you were sweating like a bitch in heat. You needed Hugh, and needed him now. You needed to feel him inside of you, to mark you, show everyone that you are his. “Would you-“ You began, not able to finish as Hugh pulls his face back from your neck.

“Yes.” How quickly he responded made you laugh, which in turn caused Hugh to roughly press his knee against your clothed clit, sending a wave of arousal through your body. Never tearing your eyes away from his, you licked your glossed lips sensually, putting on your best innocent eyes you could muster as you spoke. “You didn’t let me-“ Hugh had heard enough to know what you meant, because he needed the exact same from you. Hugh brought his face up inches from yours, pecking your lips slightly as he groaned out, your hand gripping his erect cock through his slacks. “Would you like to go home and let me worship you? Yes, I would baby.”

-----

Taglist: @anamiad00msday @coowayeoo @craziersarah98 @tezooks @pedroscurls @logansbaby

[veganthranduil]

(This is a slightly re-worked version of my 2021 Terror Camp talk on the subject. You can request access to past recordings via the TC email.)

In a show full of unapologetic imperialists, Harry Goodsir, beautiful cinnamon roll (too good for this world, too pure), is often exempted from the scrutiny that other characters are subjected to, based on his ‘innocent’ nature and his good intentions. I argue that precisely these characteristics that are most formative for his imperialism, but that his imperialism is not legible to us because it is the same form of imperialism we* still practise today. As the character who seems most modern to us because he is, in many ways, quite liberal, he serves as a prime audience surrogate to excuse, and to question our excuses of this imperialism.

We may think of empire as an unapologetic entity, too large to deny its own existence. The fact of its violence is all-encompassing. In the eyes of those who suffer from under it, the empire cannot be ignored—but there are also those who depend on its invisibility for the functioning of their world. This is a story about how the empire hides itself from itself, through the story it tells about itself.

The origins of empires fall together with the historical emergence of liberalism in the 18th century. Mehta (1999, p. 194) writes on this co-emergence:

“It is tempting to see the triumph of liberalism and the concurrent extension of the empire as either discontinuous facts that do not relate to each other or as plainly contradicting each other, and therefore casting doubt on the authenticity of the former. The thesis of discontinuity misunderstands the role of liberalism generally, and especially in this period. From its very inception in the seventeenth century, liberalism had been much more than a mere political doctrine with a local reach. By the early nineteenth century and with added vigor through the course of it, it was a robust mindset with a confidence in its global vision. This liberalism did not mysteriously get transformed into some demonic urge to rule the world the instant the British ventured beyond their shores. [...] liberalism and empire were tightly braided threads such that their separation would have resulted in the fraying of a well-woven mental and political tapestry.”

At the same time, liberalism, in its elaborations as a theory, is at odds with many aspects of empire. Liberalism, on the one hand, relies on the resources and globalisation provided through colonisation. On the other hand, the liberal tradition purports that its values—individual self-determination, basic rights, democracy, or tolerance—hold the world over. These liberal values extend rights that the empire violates and denies. This is not to say that liberalism has not also served as the argument in struggles of liberation and for rights. The language of liberalism can be used to challenge liberalism and demand inclusion, just as the language of liberalism can be used to dismantle it. Suffragists successfully did the former. The globally resurgent radical right is succeeding in a strategy of normalisation that is achieving the latter. What I am saying is that within liberalism, which is caught between needing the empire for its political survival and being at odds with the fact of empire in its moral system, there is a particular rhetorical trick that hides the empire from liberal eyes. Even today, we western liberal subjects deflect when it comes to the existence of this connection.

I use Jeanne Morefield’s concept of “imperial deflections” (Morefield, 2014). She defines an imperial deflection as “drawing critical attention away from the liberal empire’s illiberalism by insisting upon its fundamental character.” It’s a bit like a magic trick: showing you the card by acknowledging the empire’s illiberal acts, and then drawing the attention away from it. Morefield examines British liberal thinkers around WWI and US liberal thinkers post 9/11 to show how the liberal justifications of empire are surprisingly similar in both instances. In both pre-WWI Britain and post 9/11 America, liberals insist it is impossible for them to act illiberally—because they have always been liberal, because they are at heart liberal, or because the long arc of history bends towards a liberal society in both cases. It is these deflections we can see Goodsir employ in the show, at different times, and with different degrees of success.

Goodsir as an Audience Surrogate

At numerous junctures in the show, we are encouraged to view the world we are presented with through Goodsir’s eyes. He, like the viewer, has never been to the Arctic, and approaches it with a sense of wonder. The audience is encouraged to empathise with him through small moments that endear him to us (such as when he insists that he, too, can haul the boat-sledge in 1x02 and promptly falls over, inexperienced at hauling as he is.) In episode 1x02 Goodsir as a viewpoint character also becomes explicit when we hear his testimony after what happened to Lieutenant Gore. Although all members of the sledge party are interviewed offscreen, it is his point of view that we hear and believe, and that helps us makes sense of what we just saw happen. The fact that the captains interviewing him are sceptical of his account just solidifies putting the audience in his corner.

What most solidifies Goodsir as an audience surrogate, however, is his ideology and therefore his position in the show as a “modern” character. My argument is that it’s precisely Goodsir’s liberalism that allows us to identify with him.

Goodsir as a Liberal Subject

Goodsir’s role as a scientist (an anatomist first, and then also a doctor) position him closest to Post-Enlightenment liberal ideas about scientific progress, rationality, and also a new form of masculinity. Goodsir is a decidedly “modern” character, especially when contrasted with other characters: Goodsir is less set in his ways than most of them. While describing the bear prints, for example, the captains are dismissive of his description while Goodsir is sceptical but not dismissive of the idea that the bear could have tracked them to the ship. (He is, of course, very set in other ways, for example in his total embrace of class hierarchies.) He is also positioned in contrast to Stanley’s overt racism when Stanley refuses to perform surgery on Silna’s father.**

Goodsir’s approach to life is informed by his belief in science. We are given little hints throughout the show that approaching things from a detached, scientific angle gives him comfort. When David Young dies, Goodsir is distressed, but the first thing he does is check Young’s pulse. Similarly, he can perform Young’s autopsy only after covering his face, reducing him from “person” to “body.” His account of Gore’s killing, likewise, is focussed on the observable details and reads more like a scientific report than a report from a man who witnessed a traumatic event.

This rationality and distance from emotion is also indicative of an alternative masculinity. The show contrasts Goodsir’s liberal masculinity with the more familiar “male warrior” masculinity of the sailors that surround him. In episode 1x03, Goodsir’s demand of an escort back to the ships is played for a laugh, though immediately undercut when the Tuunbaq does attack the hunting blind, leaving him the character with the more realistic risk assessment. Goodsir embodies an alternative hegemonic masculinity: a liberal masculinity that expresses itself not in outbursts of aggression but in a distancing from emotion. When Goodsir seeks to test his lead poisoning theory, for example, he entices Jacko with gentle words to eat from the food he suspects to be poisonous. He is aware that—should his theory be correct—he is killing the monkey. We are reminded of his gentle words to David Young and realise, perhaps, that his gentleness is not backed up with a deep concern for the person/animal he speaks to. In both cases, the knowledge that can be extracted from dead bodies supersedes sentimentality. Neither masculinity, one might extrapolate from that, offers a way out of the predicament these men find themselves in. Neither can serve as the basis of a new kind of living with each other.

Goodsir’s Liberal Deflections of Empire

Goodsir’s character is an interesting case of nominative determinism. There obviously was a historical Harry Goodsir, but this is not the man we are looking at. We are looking at the fictional “good sir” who was, at first glance, written as the only good man among imperialists. At second glance, however, his name itself becomes an imperial deflection. While other characters make their investment in empire clear from the beginning, Goodsir’s is perhaps harder to spot. Sir John has already failed at one imperial endeavour and is adamant to prove himself. Fitzjames’s stories illustrate that he has no qualms with the mission of empire. But at various points in the show, Goodsir is seen to express discomfort with the logic of action that imperialism dictates. He wants to save Silna’s father (even though he ends up making things worse for him and the crew in the long run.) He expresses discomfort at the treatment of the body of Silna’s father, while he himself tries to be respectful of Inuit customs (though, once again, making things worse by burying his charms with him.) When Francis wants to ask Silna how to kill the Tuunbaq, Goodsir does not translate the question, perhaps out of a sense that “these matters are quite private in her culture.” It is because of this discomfort that Goodsir becomes the prime apologist of empire. The other characters do not feel like they have anything to be sorry for, and therefore do not need to invent justifications. Goodsir employs these justifications at various moments in the show, but two instances stand out for their similarity in phrasing and context, and the differing extent to which Goodsir believes them.

The first instance of an imperial deflection is when Goodsir brings supper to Silna. She has just been kidnapped by Hickey, Hartnell and Manson. When Goodsir introduces himself to Silna, he has a first moment of realization of the meaning and scope of empire and his place in it. He explains their purpose (“For our economy. For trade.”) and seems to have a moment of self-awareness that those are neither good reasons for dying nor for killing. A moment later he points at himself, hoping to introduce himself. “Goodsir,” he says, which is both his name and also an insistence that while the policies that brought him here may be flawed, the men sent to die were good men, not deserving of the scorn we direct at them for the imperial policy they carry out. “This is not how Englishmen act,” he says, despite evidence to the contrary that Englishmen have, in fact, just acted this way. This is the first instance of a textbook liberal deflection: insisting on the character over the actions of empire. What does it matter for Silna that he means well? The helplessness is emphasised by the abrupt ending of the episode after Goodsir’s desperate introduction.

The second time Goodsir insists on the character of Empire over its actions is in quite a different context. A hunting party has just massacred an Inuit family, people that Silna knew, and now Silna is being exiled from Terror Camp. Goodsir knows that it’s safer for her to go, but selfishly wants her to stay. He feels for her, and perhaps feels he must offer some sort of apology for the behaviour of his co-nationals. Then he tells her: “I wish you could come to England and see for yourself. It’s not like we are here. People there are good.” Once again, he insists on the fundamental character—the “English” character—of the empire that exculpates them from the crimes they commit abroad. But even in the speaking, he appears to realise the futility of this deflection. This second deflection is followed by a word spoken in Inuktitut for which no translation is provided.*** Silna reacts with a small smile and a nod of her head. The choice not to subtitle or translate Goodsir’s last word to Silna can be read in various ways, but it remains first and foremost a place to which we—the liberal audience at home—cannot follow Goodsir, who has been our surrogate up to this point, implying perhaps that he has taken a step that we have yet to take in confronting our own imperialism.

Both of Goodsir’s deflections follow violence done to Silna (or threatened against her.) In the first instance, it’s her kidnapping by Hickey and his associates for which Goodsir first apologises, then makes excuses; in the second instance it’s the violence that will be done to her should she return to Terror Camp, as well as the violence done to other Inuit. In both cases, it’s Goodsir’s job to draw attention away from the liberal empire’s illiberal actions by insisting on its liberal character. The extent to which he succeeds—or fails—opens up these liberal deflections of empire for us. Goodsir is not an uncritical liberal audience surrogate. I watched The Terror for the first time during the March 2020 lockdown, and hearing “For our economy. For trade.” hit hard for me as a person living under a capitalist system where economic necessity is continuously valued over human life. Goodsir realises, in justifying, the hollowness of some of his justifications, even as he fervently holds on to others.

Goodsir stays alive long enough to witness all the ways that Englishmen may act, and is made to participate in them. His disillusionment with his co-nationals at the end is nearly complete. But his commitment to liberalism, I would argue, remains.

In the end, Goodsir returns to science. His final vision is that of the beauty that no doubt inspired his career, the wonder that he told Crozier he still feels. But it’s also a vision that remains within the ordered boundaries of the liberal empire: the specimens are foreground on a white background, they are separated from nature, standing contextless and only for themselves. Goodsir’s final vision is that of the liberal imperial project, realised.

* When I write “we,” I am, of course, aware that not everyone reading this falls under the umbrella of Western liberal subjects that this “we” assumes. Like Goodsir as an audience surrogate, this “we” hopes to function as a mirror of reflection for our own deflections of empire. I do not understand myself as a “liberal,” certainly not in the sense that most US-Americans use the term. I see liberalism as the bedrock of how we do politics in the 21st century. In that sense, we are all “liberals.” From the position of someone who is a “liberal,” as a subject of a liberal democracy, I do not exempt myself from the category of people that has, at various points in their lives, made excuses for empire, knowingly or unknowingly. These rhetorical strategies, so ingrained in how we talk about who we are, make it all-too-easy to fall into the trap of convincing ourselves that there is something redeemable at the heart of our empires. We must make these strategies explicit to recognise their falsity.

** Stanley’s refusal did not come out of an assessment of the futility of the procedure, which might have spared Silna’s father further suffering. In that sense, both Goodsir (in his belief that his knowledge can save the man) and Stanley (in his racist refusal of medical aid) fail Silna and her father, because neither of them centre the well-being of the man.

*** I am aware that you can find this translation in many metas written about it. Do not come into my comments to tell me what it means. I looked it up.

Bibliography

Bell, D., 2014. What is Liberalism. Political Theory 42, 682–715.

Hooper, C., 2001. Masculinities in International Relations, in: Manly States: Masculinities, International Relations, and Gender Politics. Columbia University Press, New York, pp. 79–116.

Mehta, U.S., 1999. Liberalism and Empire. A Study in Nineteenth-Century British Liberal Thought. University of Chicago Press, Chicago and London.

Morefield, J., 2014. Empires Without Imperialism: Anglo-American Decline and the Politics of Deflection. Oxford University Press, Oxford.

[halfwayhearted]

hey i was wondering if i could request a pau cubarsí x reader. maybe one where he gets jealous of a guy hitting on the reader or talking to her at the balon d’or? thank you, i love you and your work ♥️

Love Between… — Pau Cubarsí.

Pairing: Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader

Summary: In which you make it clear Pau is all you want.

Word Count: 530+

Disclaimer/s — Guy, just comfort/fluff really!

A/N: The summary lowk doesn’t even fit but whatever I guess. First of all, thank you so much??? I love you :3 This was beautiful. I hate this but I don’t at the same time, soooo. Soz.

Smoothing down the hem of your dress with your free hand, you stood close to Pau, whose pinky was still, to your surprise, interlocked with yours.

It wasn’t anything stressful. He knew what he was doing and you were just there. Pau and his tendency to be attentive was something you’d grown to love. Then, suddenly, “There’s Lamine!”

At the sound of your quiet voice, the boy looks down at you before looking up, meeting the gaze of his friend you had just pointed out. “I’ll say hi to him later. Are you thirsty? I’m sure they’ll have water bottles around here somewhere,” he says.

“I’m okay. Go talk to him—I’ll be fine. I’ll manage.”

“I don’t know…” he drawls. “Do you want to come with me? He’ll want to talk to you. You can, I don’t know, maybe congratulate him or something.”

Rolling your eyes at his insistence, you poke his arm. “Pau, please, have your moment with him.”

“I—okay! Okay. I’ll… be back before you know it.”

While he walks away, the Yamal boy starts talking to him the second he spots him. You see the way your boyfriend’s smile widens when he hands him his trophy. You loved him so much. It was insane.

Before you have the chance to keep your gaze fixated on them, you hear a voice catch your attention. “I’m sorry, excuse me, are you lost?”

“Oh. Oh!” Awkward, okay. Haha. “No, I’m not—”

“‘Cause I can show you around if you’d like. I know this place like the back of my hand, y’know.”

“That’s nice… I’m not lost. Thank you, though!”

His expression drops and he nods, but your answer doesn’t stop him from continuing. How disappointing. “Did you come here alone?”

Can Pau come back? “No, I’m here with my—”

“She’s here with me.” Oh, thank God.

Stiffening, the man purses his lips. “Ah, I see. You two have a good rest of your day and… goodbye.”

Watching him depart, Pau looks over at you and frowns. “Odd of him. What did he want?”

“To know if I was lost,” you answered honestly.

“He was looking at you weirdly. Are you okay?”

“I didn’t see how he looked at me, but I’m fine. He offered to show me around or whatever, I refused. I was about to mention that I was here with my boyfriend—you, and that’s when you stepped in.” You fidgeted with your fingers. “Thank you for that, by the way. He just came out of nowhere.”

“Didn’t he? I left you alone for, like, a second.”

That gets a laugh out of you, and you warmly loop your arm with his. “Have I mentioned how glad I am that you came in when you did? Seriously.”

He smiles and shakes his head. “You haven’t.”

“Well, in that case, I’m glad you came in when you did. So… how about that water! I’m a bit thirsty.”

“Water, okay,” Pau hummed, placing his other hand on your arm. His cheeks flush when you lean into him and begin to walk around in hopes of finding your beverage, that’s if you guys could.

You couldn’t, however, you both pulled through.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @planetpedri + @spidybaby + @sakashq ! ౨ৎ

[yaut-jaknowit]

I really love "The Wrong Secret to Hold". Can I request the yautja in that fic ? He and reader are just enjoying their day and reader is an artist and Ahtaal(?) is very intrigued of readers creativity.

An Artist's Touch

Character: Ahtaal (Male Yautja) x GN!Reader

Summary: As an artist, a talent not many Yautjas possess, you are seen commodity like no other. There are few humans on Yautja Prime. Let one's that are under the empress's protection. Being different, you strayed away from the palace with her permission to stay in a town far in the world. Ahtaal's town. He's intrigued to see someone make something out of nothing.

Author Note: This is what I wish my life to be. I want to be resting on Yautja Prime, sketch book in hand, and just enjoying the deadly nature. Gods, I wish!

Masterlist

Ao3

Underneath an awning that offered plenty of shade a pencil and sketch were hand. Despite the credits you hold, you’ve found a spot within a tribe that resides in temperate area on Yautja Prime. It’s small. Less than fifty Yautjas are strewn across the territory, But it was perfect for yourself along the clan. They accepted you due to your talent.

Creating art. Murals painted on walls in important Yautjas houses. Including the empress all the way in Kov. She tried to offer you all the riches to stay at her palace. But, your wanted to explore, see the planet from a deep, inside look. Being inside the empress’s palace, practically trapped, offered you none of that. A city filled with Yautjas. What you wanted to see was the outside world. How they hunt, how they think. It made the murals you created come to life.

A morning dew softened the air that would soon turn hot. This area was considered temperate to them. To a human, it was far too hot for you to stand directly in the sunlight. The suns themselves would turn your skin red in less than five minutes. A planet that wasn’t meant your kind. That didn’t stop you from being out in a designated spot that had been crafted just for you.

The thatch on top plenty thick to prevent a single strand of sunlight from slipping through. You were sitting on a plush bean bag like chair. It was soft and body conforming. The furs used to cover it came from a creature you couldn’t even try to say the name. But their fur was so soft, it felt like being on a cloud. You enjoyed the calmness that floated through the air. The sketch book and pencil in your hand is all you needed for the morning.

Nearly silent footfalls had you picking up your head and finding a familiar red figure walking into the shade. A bright smile graced your features. “Ahtaal,” you greeted. The strong male strolled up to the foot of the plush seat you’ve taken and gazed down at you. “What do I owe to be graced with your presence?”

After picking a tribe to live with, Ahtaal had made a blood oath to the empress to ensure your safety. Though humans and Yautjas are an uncommon sight to see, you were one of the very few to be allowed to live freely. There were no ifs, ands, or buts to your presences amongst the Yautjas. Your talented hands ensured you had a place. The empress gracing you sanctum anywhere on the planet. Here you choose to be, of all places. But the face of Ahtaal was one you’d never pass up on.

The lumbering giant squats down in front of you and peers over the edge of the book. “I see you working away on another project,” he explained, eyes curiously running over the sketch you’ve started. Another commission for an ancient somewhere on the planet. Maybe she was up north? You let the book fall flat on your lap. Your artwork wasn’t something you hid, let alone from him.

The sketch book is turned around to face Ahtaal. “Yep, someone up north I think commissioned me. Got some more credits in the pockets.” Even as someone protected by the empress, you still liked to work for your own money. There was plenty you had since you had little to spend it on. No clothes, food, shelter, or supplies. It was just there so when anyone commissioned you, they could pay for your work. Though, gifts were another way for them pay you. There are a few trinkets you enjoyed happily every since you got them.

Carefully, Ahtaal ran just the side of his sharp claw over the pages. He traced over some of the darker, more permanent lines that marked what you truly had in mind. A deep hum rumbled from his throat. The male focused on what you’ve created on paper. A talent he will never possess, no matter how many times you egg him in.

“What do they ask for?” he questioned and brought his bright eyes up to yours. The contrast was stark. Calm, soft verses fierce, predatory. He wished there was a way to capture the beautiful color of your irises and color it somewhere in his dwelling.

The way they brightened at the question. “That snarly beast that reminds me of a carnivore looking horse that lives near the north pole.” The hairs on your arm raised at the thought of the creature. It was beyond ugly and terrifying at the same time. It looked completely unnatural when you try to give it a logical look to it with earth creatures in mind.

Ahtaal snorted, mandibles twitching with a few slow nods. Then, his gaze drops back down to the sketch book. The pages were nearly full. A constant thing for yourself.

For such an advanced species… their entertainment was limited to mainly hunting. As a human that can’t participate in such a thing, you have limited ways of filling the time. You wield pencils, not swords.

“Is this your last sketch book?” Ahtaal was responsible for your wellbeing. That includes taking care of all needs and wants under the order of the empress. But, it wasn’t only just because he was under oath.

The hand on your book lifted off. A sharp, black ended talon tipped your chin back up to meet his intense stare. You licked at your suddenly dry lips and swallowed hard. You felt mushy. “I-uh…” you cleared your throat. “Uh, yeah, it is.” Your heart stuttered in your chest while gazing into his eyes. If only you could look into them all day.

“Then, I shall go get more when time permits. I cannot have my little ooman without paper to draw on,” he grunted. The back of his shiny claw was dragged across your jawline, all the way up to your ear. With a swipe, it left your skin. More goosebumps rose across the skin on your arms. “Will you survive until tomorrow for me to get more?”

Your throat was dry. His words had soared over your head. All you were able to focus on was his gentle, mind consuming touch. You melted.

When you found your voice, you speak in a tiny voice. “Yeah.” How could one person reduce you to a school girl in front of her crush? You gnawed on your bottom lip and pulled on the skin harshly. Blood painted your tastebuds.

Red finger grasped your chin and lightly jerked down on it. “Don’t,” he warned and stopped you from mutilating your lip again. You licked at the new wound, unable to look away from his eyes. Ahtaal swipes over the moisten skin with his thumb. You weren’t able to stop yourself from licking at the deadly, pointed claw that tipped the end of his finger.

All the muscles in his body tensed up in the same manner as your own. You couldn’t believe you had just done that. It had only been a thought. Yet, apparently, your body had a different thought of its own.

At first, your mouth opened and closed. Your brain couldn’t figure out a way to make up an excuse for the stupidity you had just pulled. “Shit, I-I didn’t… Fuck, why did I do that?” you whined to yourself and pulled away.

Except, Ahtaal tightened his grip on your chin and tugged you in closer. Your lips were parted, eyes wide as you looked up at him. Stars sparkling in them. Something changed within his gaze. A darker, heavier tint to the usually light colored irises.

“You… play a dangerous game, little ooman,” he growled out and emphasized his point by tugging you an inch closer to him. The warmth of his breath fanned over your face. “And I don’t know if you know what you’re getting yourself into.” You wettened your lips again. A habit hard to break. His eyes darted down to watch the action then seemed to soften. Like a whine was on the tip of his tongue.

Everything he said… Your heart continued to thunder loudly in its cavern. You swallowed hard and raised a hand to just touch at the column of his throat. The scales soft under your touch. A vulnerable place for any creature. Ahtaal lets you freely run your finger pads from his jaw down the front to where his collarbones meet.

The texture of his scales weren’t like anything you’ve felt before. Tough in a fight. You let your dull nails to trace a pattern through the spaces of the scales. Your hand continuously moving even if the two of your don’t look away.

“And what if… I do know,” you whispered just loud enough for him to hear. The surrounding space didn’t need to listen in on your conversation. “What if I want to play this game?”

A deep bellow vibrated throughout his chest. The tone so low you felt it more than heard it. You whimpered. Goosebumps covered your forearms. His eyes darkened. “Are you sure? Are you willing to let me have that power?” To hand over your power to him is a huge sign of trust. Let alone to someone who wasn’t event he same species.

“Yes,” is all you needed to say. Ahtaal towered over you, body leaning over your curled up form. His hand had shifted down to your fragile throat. Just enough pressure, just a flick of wrist and you would be nothing but a memory. Your eyes drifted close. Everything you were doing made the Yautja go wild. Every sign of submission to him. You, someone of high talent, was allowing to take that power from you.

Ahtaal growled from the back of his throat. His thumb ran along the pulse point on your throat, feeling the way it rapidly fluttered just under the skin. “Such a delicate thing under my hand. You are letting me have this.” You only gave a subtle nod, not wanting to move too much. The moment was thick with tension yet soft like clouds. You didn’t want to break a thing.

“Oh little ooman,” he cooed in a husky voice. Your eyes gently open to find him still so close to you with a low whine. His hand drifted up to cup your cheek. The large, dark red male leaned in to press his forehead to yours. “Mine?”

More of a question rather than a statement.

A smile graced your features. “Yes.” An artist and their hunter.

He finds himself scooping you off of the lounge chair and up into his arms. A surprised yelp escapes you as you clung to his neck. The sketch book and pencil you once held fell to the ground with a subtle thump. Ahtaal takes your seat and sets you down in his lap. You glared at him with no real heat in your eyes then leaned over his knees to grab at your fallen supplies.

“Well, good sir, I could’ve moved all by myself you asked,” you huffed. One of your hands was able to pick up the items off of the ground. As you go to sit back up, Ahtaal hooks an arm around your midsection and pulls you flush with his chest. The things in your grasp nearly fall back to the ground. You whipped your head to the side and narrowed your eyes on him.

All he did was chuckle from deep within his chest. The tension in the air has passed now. The soft clouds were the only thing left in their wake.  

His arm flexed around your torso and kept your lower back snug to his stomach. You could only wiggle without a chance of escape. “Ahtaal, at least let me get into a more comfortable position then this.” Ahtaal listened to you. You gave him a pointed look before twisting into a position that you were able to still draw in.

Only your butt was planted firmly in his lap. You lounged sideways and used the side of the cushion to keep yourself slightly upright. Just enough to have the book on your lower thighs and draw. You peer up at Ahtaal with a pointed look that turned into a soft smile. The expression on his face was at ease, relaxed, and gentle with the sight of you.

Ahtaal placed a hand on your knee and rubbed his thumb against your skin. “How’s this?” he purred in a tone that made you want to smack him. Somehow, you refrained from fulling such a thought. Instead, you scoffed and started back on the project in hand. Ahtaal watched an artist at work, amazed the way you create something out of nothing.

[vrystalius]

AAAAJAJA I LOVE UOURR BLOGGG AND HOW YOU ENVISION EACH CHARACTERS XDD may I pretty please make a request for angst/fluff hcs on female human reader, who’s very insecure, paired with the upper moon trio and Muzan?Whether it’s about her looks, or that she feels like they don’t genuinely love her (esp since they are demons and she’s a human, so what’s stopping them from leaving/killing her and dating other demons instead(˃̣̣̣̣︿˂̣̣̣̣ )

Insecurity

What stops your demon s/o to get bored of you one day and eat you? What if they’re only pretending to love you? And what will your partner do to fight those insecurities?

Pairing: Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza, Muzan x gn!reader

Kokushibo

He is taking your insecurities very seriously. Kokushibo knows and felt it himself plenty, during both his demon and human years. Despite that, his “comfort” and “reassurance” methods are quite unique. Your husband will not react immediately to your feelings, rather being more quiet and reserved than usual, wich at first makes you doubt yourself even more. Perhaps he is finally realising that he is much better off with another human or even demon… Although you started to notice how Kokushibo was hovering around you more and more. Silently, but he was still there, watching you while you go on with your day. You could be doing some mundane task like cooking yourself a meal and he would be standing behind you, not noticing how intimidating he is being right now.

In his mind, Kokushibo was showing more interest in you. He believed that you felt insecure about him not being around you enough or paying attention to you, instead being out on missions or training. So, now he’s watching you everyday all day, trying to show you through his ways that he cares about you and cherishes you very much. Once he finally notices how he is achieving nothing but making you confused or intimidating, Kokushibo begins to show affection more openly, although it felt forced at first.

His calloused hand would slowly slip into yours, intertwining fingers while he was meditating, or him holding you close to his body while you napped or slept on his chest, spending the precious and scarce nighttime with showering you in affection while you were resting, not even aware about how he was trying to show his love in his own way.

“I’ll stay for the night, I asked that man to give the other Upper Moons any of my remaining missions. I’d rather spend my time with you.”

Kokushibo is silently worrying about not being good enough for you. Although he is Upper Moon One, wouldn’t a human want to marry another human and start a family? What stops you from leaving him? He will not stop or hurt you when you choose to do so, he would completely understand.

Douma

You immediately saw Douma’s face shift into the expression he gives to all his followers once they start speaking about their woes, while you were trying to explain to him how you were feeling. You silenced yourself the second the pity-tinged smile appeared on your face, knowing that he is not listening or acknowledging your feelings in any way. He told you times before how he feels exhausted when listening to his followers whine and cry about their problems while Douma barely cares, giving them the usual advice. Talking about your insecurities will definitely not work with Douma, so you’ll have to resort to other things to make him listen. Ignoring him is a not very nice way to do it, but at least he’ll start to wonder why you are not around.

He notices immediately when you stop being near him. You’re not sitting by his side during sermons, you’re not in your shared bedroom and the followers commented about how you were seemingly avoiding the Founder. That’s when it finally clicks, you were talking about not feeling enough for him and being insecure about yourself earlier, right? Once Douma chased you down (and persuaded you to leave the garden and step into the shade with him so you two can have a conversation without him needing to yell all over the estate), he theatrically kissed the palm of your hand and kept apologising over and over, almost nervously trying to explain how much he loves you and how irreplaceable you truly are to him and his heart.

You are the first human, first being he felt emotions for. Happiness, sadness, anger, jealousy and most importantly love— all the beautiful and unpleasant feelings, Douma began feeling them because of you!

To prove his point in a way, he introduced you to all the unimpressed Upper Moons and his master as “the love of his life”, his wife, his life partner, soulmate and so on and on, mentioning many other petnames until Muzan finally silenced him. Douma invites you to sit right beside him during sermons, instead of having your own cushion, keeping you closer and having the opportunity to openly shower you in affection. He sometimes sends out followers to pick up flowers for you in the garden and then presents then to you as if he picked them out himself, acting like the sun wasn’t out for the last hours, making it not possible for him to get those flowers for you. You appreciate it nonetheless.

“I have an idea! How about we hold an official wedding ceremony with all my followers! We cab invite my other friends too! Ohh, Akaza can be my best man, imagine how that could be, haha!”

Even if Douma is rather comical and theatrical, deep down inside, he is rather afraid of you getting sick of him one day. He knows he can keep his followers charmed and close, but his speeches and charms do not work on you. You see right through him and know the true person, or demon, he is. He is insecure himself because why would you stay with a man-eating demon? Once you mentioned your own thoughts and feelings, he took it as an opportunity to prove that he does cherishes and loves you so, so incredibly much.

Akaza

You… You seriously think that you are not good enough? Not pretty or strong enough? Seriously?

You are the best thing that ever happened and will happen to him. You are patient with him snd so kind, so gentle and affectionate. You heal his soul and now you are talking about being replaceable? He feels incredibly horrible for making you feel so terrible about yourself.

Akaza tries to be more obvious about his feelings for you, trying to reassure you how beautiful you look or saying “I love you” more often, taking your smaller hand into his, nuzzling his cheek in your warm palm. He gets much more touchy, trying to get you to cuddle more and more so he can relish in your warmth and bask in your arms. His time with you is scarce, especially with how Muzan keeps drowning him in more and more exhausting missions that keep him away from you (and sometimes it feels like his master is doing it on purpose), that’s why his eyes do not leave your form for even one second, sometimes quietly mumbling “I love you” against your warm skin, his lips placing kisses between his muffled words.

“There’s no one else I want by my side, bunny. You make me feel warm, fuzzy… safe, y’know. It’s weird but nice. You should feel like that too.. you deserve it.”

Akaza sometimes notices how disgustingly desperate he sounds to comfort and reassure you. It made him cringe once he realised how hard he fell for you, how much he clung onto you and how desperately he craved your love, your touch. Once you start talking about your insecurities about your beauty, self-worth and so on, he realises how much he appreciates you more and more. You’re the most beautiful human he ever came across, you’re heaven-sent. Is it selfish of him to think of you as a blessing from the gods themselves?

Muzan Kibutsuji

He was very perplexed when he first listened to you talking about being insecure, not quite understanding how you out of all people feel replaceable and not enough for the demon king. How could you think such things? Do you not understand how vulnerable he is with you without an audience? At first, he’d dismiss your worries for you just being confused or not feeling well, but a little after a day after your initial conversation, the gears inside his five brains begin to shift and work again. At that moment, he finally realised what you really meant.

Muzan didn’t want to be more affectionate with you, mistaking love with weakness, but after finally realising how you needed the reassurance from him, he begrudgingly gave into his fears of appearing soft and began to show his love more openly.

The demon king began to shower you in various gifts that mark you as his partner, such as a necklace with a ruby matching his eye colour, multiple rings he owns himself so you two can match and an artificial flower crown for you to wear as his soulmate and in a cute way to show off your “royal status” as the partner of Muzan.

“You are the one and only for me, and I am the only one for you. If the gods exist, they have blessed me with merely meeting you in your lifetime… it would be a pity to let it expire so soon. I will happily give you my blood if you’d like, my sun.”

💠

I am back with the Upper Moons, I hope you don’t mind if I changed the female reader to gn, anon! I felt like I wrote a lot of fem reader lately so I wanted to switch it up again. I wonder if it’s obvious wich demon is my favourite XD Anyways— I’m heading to bed now, I an exhausted :,)

Make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

[alexiswritingstuff]

A partner in the dark.

Pairing: Logan x male reader

Request: Logan with a m!reader who has insomnia/just can’t sleep?? I can’t sleep, but I’m never sure if it’s insomnia because other times I sleep just fine. maybe it’s anxiety, idk - but sometimes I think all those problems would go away if I just had a big fluffy man to cuddle on, y’know??

Warnings: none.

A/n: this might be the shortest fic I have ever written. This request is so unbelievably real. As always, be aware that my characterisation of Logan may be a little off as I'm still getting used to writing for him, and that there may be spelling mistakes and such as I can tend to miss them.

To the person that sent this in I hope this is what you were asking for, and that you enjoy it!

The same goes for everyone else!!

Logan masterlist.

The awareness of time had been lost. It had been hours at this point. The only certain thing was that the night had taken over the sky.

Your room was cascaded in the usual darkness, except for a few streams of the outside light that escaped through a parting of the curtains. Apparently they hadn't been closed right.

To put it simply, you were wide awake in a bed that practically served no purpose. 

Your eyes were stuck on the ceiling. There was no particular reason. I mean, there wasn't anything to look at anyway, it was just plain white. A shade that was really starting to get boring.

But alas, every attempt at peeling your gaze from it or even just shutting your eyes had failed. Similar to the effort to sleep.

Multiple times the rustling of the bed sheets would crackle through the air as your limbs shifted across the mattress, though the only thing really achieved was discovering a new position.

Eventually, your back was the last option left. So, there you were, stuck facing upward while your hands sat on top of each other on your chest. You could feel it rise and fall. Even the faintest beats of your heart.

And it still didn't work.

An exhale parted your lips after sucking in through your nose. There was one more try for comfort, your shoulders sort of rubbing into the bed as if they were the source of the problem.

“Can't sleep?”

You blinked initially, the sound almost delayed in your ears as your senses weren’t as active as they were before.

Soon, your head loosely lolled to the side, at most an attempt to send a simple glance at the man. Though, it remained when you had met with his dark eye. 

Only one was on display; the other engulfed by the pillow. He lay opposite you, in more ways than one. He was on his stomach as he peered at you, eyelids visibly heavy; each blink lasted longer than the next.

“Did I wake you?” you whispered. 

Logan sort of huffed at that, air piercing from his nose. “Could,” he corrected through a grumble, “until some guy kicked me in the leg.”

The side of your face fully pressed into your pillow, chin lowering, so that you could face him enough. “I did?” You were cringing, concerned gaze fixating on Logan while he slowly but surely started to twist his body round with an equal amount of groans. 

There was almost a sigh of relief when he had landed on his back, his body bouncing just a tad from the sudden movement. “Don’t worry about it.” he offered with some gruffness, his lack of energy seeming to affect his use of tone. 

It had you just looking at him for a moment. Watching the last few times he blinked before his eyes decided to stay closed. You hummed for a response, a sound so light it had barely even made its way through your throat.

And then you were back to facing that dreaded ceiling. It almost annoyed you by how smooth it looked. Didn’t even look like it had been painted, even if it had; there were no streaks or imperfections. Just purely white.

“What’s wrong?”

This time, you didn’t budge. “Nothing.” you practically whispered. “You sure?” Logan was quick to ask, seeming to shuffle around a little bit as the bed creaked, “I personally don’t find a ceiling all that interesting.”

The tensity in your muscles eased, especially in your face, when you allowed your head to turn. Yet again.

He was looking at you through almost half lidded eyes. Though, his eyebrows were raised, inviting your answers. You sighed, trying to think of the right words to use before your lips inevitably parted. 

“My brain’s too loud.”

It was the only way you could describe it. I mean, the room engulfing the two of you was silent. Completely silent. There were no sounds of birds from outside, or wind. Not even a car driving passed on the road. 

If a pin had been dropped in any corner of the room, maybe even right down the hallway, you would have heard it. Thus, it was all from your head. 

Logan seemed to sit up a little at that. The movement wasn’t so much in his body than it was his head as it raised slightly from the pillow beneath. “D’you wanna talk about it?”

You could’ve pictured the expression on his face if you hadn’t already been looking at it; the furrowing of his eyebrows, the squint of his eyes, the light frown that dragged the corners of his lips. Now, he was awake. 

You shook your head, as much as you could in your position. “It’s just annoying.” you confessed, grabbing onto Logan’s hand when he reached over.

Initially it was aimed towards your face, but you held it instead. You needed something in your hand; to feel it. “I’m so tired, but when I try to sleep nothing happens, you know?”

“It’s the one thing I should be able to do– like everyone else, and I just… I can’t. I can’t get myself to stop thinking.”

Logan’s other hand came up from somewhere under the sheet, dragging along the bedding until it could finally make contact with your face. An exhale instinctively huffed through your nose at the touch, and the feeling of his warm fingers. He caressed along your cheekbone. “Come here.”

You stared back at him for a moment, his features barely visible in the few streams of light until it got to his shining eyes.

Logan let go of you for a moment, grabbing at the dog tags around his neck before pulling it to the side. And then he held his arms out, proving that he meant it.

You complied.

Your head ended up landing on his chest, mostly because he guided it there himself, and it was almost instantly that your body melted onto his.

You could feel his arms encasing you, finding their wanted positions just like yours were, though eventually his hands had settled around your shoulders.

His heartbeat was right in your ear; the slow rhythm of it, the thuds themselves. Truthfully, even if none of this helped you to sleep, you still wouldn’t mind listening to it until the sun came up. 

“There’s nothing to worry about now,” Logan insisted with a breath that raised you with his chest. He pressed a kiss to your head before leaning his chin against it, “It can wait until morning.”

“I can’t just shut my mind off, Logan–”

“It can wait.” he maintained, tightening his hold on you as he shifted slightly on the bed. 

It had you wanting to roll your eyes. To shake your head, maybe even roll off of him completely, but there was something about it that made it impossible to do so. 

You were surrounded by his warmth. His arms. Him. He had given his body to lean on, and offered the sound of his heart right to you; a sound you don’t get to hear very often. There was no chance that you were moving. 

By the next exhale, your head had sunk further into the bare skin of his chest. The two of you practically melded together. 

Your fingers lightly traced along the back of his arm, following the edge of his muscles as the sound of his breaths filled your ears. “Thank you.” you whispered after a moment, finally letting your eyes fall closed.

“No need.”

[4linos]

reaction to s/o with long hair

stray kids maknae line x gn!reader ૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა

request: how maknae line would react to s/o with really nice, really long, tailbone length hair?

wc: 578

han

jisung would be fascinated by your long hair and likely compliment it frequently, pointing out how elegant or pretty it is. he might try to help take care of it by offering to braid it or try new hairstyles, or he might playfully run his fingers through it. he might also make lighthearted comments or playfully tease you about how much hair care product you might need. all in all, jisung would be loving and respect the beauty and work involved in keeping long hair. however, he would love if you talked about any hardships or funny experiences you had handling your long hair.

felix

felix would find your hair's flow and appearance captivating and give you many sincere compliments, such as "Your hair is so pretty," or "It looks so soft!" To show how much he cares, he would offer to brush your hair often. felix would probably be a reassuring presence if you were ever annoyed by your long hair (i.e., because it was getting in the way or taking too long to style). he would listen to you patiently and perhaps make silly remarks to lift up your mood or offer lighthearted but kind advice to help. he would love spending time with you doing your hair or giving you compliments while you do it. whether or not you have long hair, he would never hold back from complimenting you on your beauty.

seungmin

seungmin would treat a long-haired partner with extreme consideration and gentleness. even though his reactions would be a little quieter they would still be very tender and kind. Because he doesn't want to unintentionally ruin your hair or cause you any discomfort, he may first be a little shy or cautious about it. He would, however, probably voice lots of compliments for its beauty once he is comfortable. seungmin will most likely give you a genuine, gentle compliment on your long hair, such as, "Your hair looks really pretty today." Seungmin might ask about your hair care routine because he is genuinely interested in how you manage to keep it looking so well. He would most likely like hearing you explain your routine, offering encouragement and maybe showing interest at the amount of time and work required to take care of it. He would be the kind to discreetly offer help, either by helping you in tying it back or by saying, "Do you want me to help you with that?" Although he wouldn't fuss over it, his small acts would show his concern.

I.N

jeongin would probably be fascinated by it and often comment on how beautiful and soft it looks. he may be a little hesitant at first but once he's comfortable with you, he'll be the type that comments on your hair often and say things like, "You have the kind of hair that makes everyone else jealous." He would most likely love playing with your hair, either by softly running his fingers through it, tucking it behind your ear, or offering you a little compliment. jeongin would be hesitant to ask too many questions, but if he's curious, he might ask about how you take care of your hair or if you have a particular routine. Because of his commitment to you, he will definitely want to know how he can help you maintain it. He would also likely like watching you try out different hairstyles, particularly if you taught him how to do it.

—

nini’s notes 110924

my first ever request i don’t know how i did i hope this is alright 🫣🫣.

asks are always open if you have a question, concern, or request!

- 🎀

[domm1etae]

Hello!! If requests are still open can I ask for a Seonghwa/reader office fic? Ever since I've found that one office asmr video he did I can't stop thinking about it 😭

Overtime Attraction

seonghwa x reader

oneshot | mdni

2.5k

Y/N’s strict, no-nonsense boss Seonghwa calls them in for a late-night “work session” that quickly turns into way more than just project revisions

nsfw tags under

readers gender not specif. , top seonghwa, boss/employee, workplace tension, power dynamics, praise kink, slow burn, buildup, desk sex, possessive seonghwa, tension release, passionate make-out, teasing, thigh touching, mutual pining, eye contact, unguarded moments, lap straddling, finger teasing, deep kissing, after-hours intimacy, needy touches

Y/N hurried down the marble hallway, heels clicking in sync with the beat of the clock ticking on the wall. It was 8:59, and every second mattered when it came to Park Seonghwa. As their boss, he was notorious for his unwavering punctuality and no-nonsense attitude. Nothing frustrated him more than tardiness, and Y/N had been on the receiving end of his reprimands enough times to know they didn’t want to push his patience any further.

Sliding into their desk just as the clock struck nine, Y/N let out a small sigh of relief. But the relief was short-lived. Seonghwa’s office door opened, and he stepped out with his usual commanding presence. He scanned the room, his sharp gaze briefly landing on Y/N, and for a moment, they could feel their pulse race.

“Team meeting in the conference room. Now,” he announced, his tone clipped and direct. No unnecessary pleasantries. Just business as always.

Y/N grabbed their notebook, gathering themselves before following him. As they settled into their usual seat, they couldn’t help but feel a rush of nerves. This project was crucial, and Seonghwa had been working them all hard to ensure everything went perfectly. His expectations were high, and they didn’t want to be the one who let the team down.

Seonghwa took his seat at the head of the table, flipping through his notes with focused precision. He went over every aspect of the project, analyzing each detail and making it clear exactly what he wanted. His calm, authoritative tone filled the room, and Y/N found themselves hyper-aware of every word, jotting down notes to ensure they wouldn’t miss a thing. But despite their efforts, Seonghwa’s expression remained as unreadable as ever.

At the end of the meeting, as everyone else began packing up to leave, Seonghwa’s gaze fell on Y/N. He raised an eyebrow, his face as composed as always.

“Y/N, stay behind a moment.”

Y/N felt their stomach tighten with a mix of anticipation and dread. Had they made a mistake? They waited as the room emptied, glancing up at Seonghwa as he watched everyone file out. Once the door closed, he leaned back, his fingers steepled in thought.

“There’s a section in your report from last night that has some errors,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “Some critical data was left out. I’ll need to go over it with you later to make sure it’s fixed before tomorrow.”

Y/N nodded, feeling a pang of embarrassment. They’d spent hours on that report, meticulously checking each line, but evidently, it hadn’t been enough to meet his standards. “Of course, sir. I’m really sorry about the oversight—I thought I’d gotten everything.”

Seonghwa’s gaze softened, but only slightly. “I know you worked hard, and I appreciate the effort. But my standards are high for a reason.” He glanced at his watch. “I have meetings the rest of the day, so we’ll handle this tonight after hours. Make sure you’re available.”

Y/N’s heart skipped at the idea of being alone in the office with Seonghwa, especially given the tension that had been building between them over the past few weeks. There was something about him—his intense focus, his precision—that made it hard not to be captivated by him. And though they’d never admit it, the idea of a private meeting with him was thrilling.

“Understood,” they replied, maintaining their composure despite the rush of anticipation.

Throughout the day, Y/N worked tirelessly to finish other tasks while nervously glancing at the clock. The office gradually emptied, and by 7 PM, they and Seonghwa were the only ones left. As the last few coworkers waved goodbye, Seonghwa finally emerged from his office, his expression as composed as ever.

“Y/N,” he called, gesturing for them to follow him. They stood up, clutching their notes and laptop, and walked into his office, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement settle over them as he closed the door behind them.

He sat down across from them, pulling up the document on his computer. “Let’s start from the top,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact as he scanned through the lines. They worked through the report, his voice low and steady as he pointed out each section that needed correction.

But as the minutes ticked by, the air between them grew more charged. Every time his hand brushed over the mouse, or his shoulder accidentally brushed theirs, Y/N felt their heart skip a beat. His closeness was almost dizzying, and the usual stoic, unbreakable mask he wore seemed to falter slightly as they moved through the corrections together.

At one point, as they both reached for the same section on the screen, their hands met, lingering longer than necessary. Y/N looked up, catching the flicker of something deeper in his gaze—a hint of warmth, of something that wasn’t entirely professional. His fingers lingered on theirs, and he didn’t pull away.

Seonghwa cleared his throat, finally releasing their hand. But his gaze remained intense, locked on them with an unreadable expression. “Y/N,” he began, his voice lower than before, carrying a hint of vulnerability. “I… don’t usually let things like this happen.”

Y/N’s heart pounded. “Me neither,” they whispered, barely able to find their voice. There was something raw in his expression, something they hadn’t seen before. And in that moment, the weight of his controlled, disciplined exterior finally broke.

He leaned forward, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from their face. “You’ve been working so hard,” he murmured, his fingers grazing their cheek with surprising tenderness. “But I think there’s been something between us for a while now.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, and before they could respond, he closed the distance between them, his lips brushing softly against theirs. The kiss was gentle at first, almost cautious, as if testing the waters. But as they melted into his touch, his grip on their waist tightened, pulling them closer. His strict, measured demeanor fell away, replaced by a passion that left them breathless.

Seonghwa lifted them onto his desk, his hands exploring with a newfound freedom that left them shivering. He whispered praise, his words quiet and reverent, as if he were savoring each moment. “I’ve wanted this for longer than I should admit,” he murmured against their skin, his voice thick with desire.

Y/N wrapped their arms around his neck, pulling him closer, their own restraint slipping away. The air was charged, heavy with everything unspoken between them.

Seonghwa’s lips brushed against Y/N’s, deepening the kiss as his hands found their waist, pulling them flush against him. Y/N’s legs shifted, one knee rising as they positioned themselves on his lap, their skirt hiking up as they straddled him. A low sound rumbled from his chest, sending a shiver down Y/N’s spine as his fingers traced circles on their thighs.

“Y/N…” Seonghwa’s breath ghosted over their lips, his voice thick with a want he had carefully kept buried until now. “You… have no idea…”

Y/N’s fingers traced up to his tie, tugging it slightly, silently urging him closer. He let out a soft groan, pressing his hips forward so they could feel the evidence of his own need. His hands traveled up their sides, grazing over the fabric of their blouse, his touch just shy of indulgent.

“More,” Y/N whispered, the word escaping them in a needy breath. They felt their pulse quicken as his hands finally traveled to cup their face, his thumb brushing softly over their bottom lip before trailing down, brushing over the sensitive spot at the base of their neck.

A sly smile played on Seonghwa’s lips as he watched their reactions, reveling in every hitch of their breath and the faint flush on their cheeks. “Oh, you want more?” His voice held a note of control, deep and rich, as if he was savoring each moment of their unraveling.

“Yes…” they murmured, and he raised an eyebrow, his hands sliding back down to grip their waist firmly. They gasped softly as he lifted them onto his desk, his expression darkening as he took in the sight of them, legs spread just enough to reveal the hint of lace at the edge of their skirt.

He leaned in, capturing their lips again, a little rougher this time, his gloved hand reaching to cradle their cheek while his other hand trailed to their thigh, inching upward with a slow deliberateness. Each kiss became more intense, more consuming, until they felt dizzy with need. His thumb traced small circles on the bare skin just below the hem of their skirt, his lips moving to trail down their neck, nibbling softly as he went.

Y/N’s hands clutched the back of his blazer, pulling him close as he teased them, letting out a quiet whimper as his hand finally ventured to the edge of their underwear. “Seonghwa, please…”

He smiled against their skin, his breath warm as he whispered, “Shh, we’re not alone yet. Do you really want someone to hear?” But despite his caution, his thumb pressed into them through the fabric, earning a muffled gasp from Y/N as they bit their lip to keep quiet.

"Good. Just like that,” he murmured, his voice heavy with approval, as he toyed with them, keeping the touch just light enough to drive them wild with need. “Be good for me, and I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

Unable to contain their need any longer, they pressed their hips up to meet his touch, their body aching for more as he continued to tease, his fingers tracing soft circles around their most sensitive spot, still separated by just a thin layer of fabric. His control, his restraint, was maddening, and he relished every second of watching them unravel under his touch.

With his other hand still steady on their cheek, he finally whispered against their lips, “Hold on to me, Y/N.”

Seonghwa’s voice was steady and sure, like he was holding the reins even as the world tilted beneath them both. Y/N’s pulse quickened, their hands clutching his shoulders, fingers digging into the firm line of his back. His words echoed in their mind—Hold on to me. They did as he commanded, wrapping their legs around his waist, drawing him closer still, as he continued his slow, torturous exploration.

His fingers traced the waistband of their underwear, skimming over their skin just enough to leave a tingling path. He maintained eye contact, a look of both mischief and fierce intent in his gaze, as if savoring the power he held in their shared secret, here, alone in his office after hours. Y/N was panting softly, struggling to keep quiet even as their restraint unraveled under his measured, relentless touch.

Seonghwa’s lips met the edge of their jawline, and he brushed his nose along their cheek, lingering by their ear. His whisper was barely audible, but it sent a shiver down their spine. “You’re so beautiful like this, Y/N,” he murmured. “So responsive… so ready for me.”

Y/N’s head tilted back, giving him access to the curve of their neck, and he didn’t waste the opportunity. His lips trailed down, placing open-mouthed kisses along their throat, teeth grazing just enough to leave a whisper of pressure before he soothed each spot with his tongue. His hand slid up their thigh, and this time, he didn’t stop at the edge of their underwear. His fingers slipped beneath the fabric, finding their center, slick and warm with anticipation.

A shaky breath escaped Y/N as his fingers began to move, slow and sure, teasing and tracing over every sensitive spot he discovered. Y/N’s hands found his tie again, tugging at it reflexively as their head fell back, eyes fluttering shut as they lost themselves in the sensation. His touch was skilled, and the friction drove them to the brink, each movement adding fuel to the smoldering fire between them.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice low, a trace of roughness seeping into his usually controlled tone. Y/N’s gaze met his, and the intensity in his eyes made them feel as if they were laid bare, every inch of desire on display for him alone. He didn’t look away, his fingers moving with greater purpose now, watching every small gasp and whimper, reveling in the effect he had on them.

When he finally withdrew his hand, Y/N bit back a whine of protest, only to feel him shift them back on the desk, guiding them to lie back. The cold surface beneath was a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from his body as he loomed over them, lips curved in a self-assured smirk.

“Be patient, Y/N,” he whispered as he leaned down, his hands tracing the curves of their body before he carefully unbuttoned their blouse, his touch gentle yet decisive. “We don’t want to rush this… not after all that time spent building up to it.”

With each article of clothing he removed, his gaze became more intense, drinking in the sight of them with an appreciative, possessive gleam. When they were finally bared before him, he let his hands roam, mapping every inch of them, his touch both comforting and electrifying.

His lips claimed theirs again, and this time, there was no restraint. His kiss was demanding, consuming, his hands gripping their hips as he settled between their legs. They could feel the hard press of him against their core, both of them beyond any semblance of control. His fingers laced with theirs as he aligned himself, pressing forward with an exquisite slowness that made them gasp. His forehead rested against theirs as he whispered, “You’re mine tonight, Y/N. Every part of you.”

With every thrust, his control slipped just a bit further, and he abandoned the careful restraint he had kept around his desire for so long. They clung to each other, their shared need overcoming any lingering hesitations, their breaths mingling in the heated silence of the empty office.

Each movement was a promise fulfilled, a long-held tension finally released, as he guided them to the brink, his voice a steady, grounding presence in their ear, murmuring words of praise and desire that left them trembling beneath him. And as they reached their peak together, Seonghwa’s name fell from Y/N’s lips in a breathless whisper, echoing into the quiet, marking the end of one kind of distance—and the beginning of something far more consuming.

They stayed close, breaths slowing as they held each other, still entangled on his desk. Seonghwa’s fingers gently traced along their arm, as if reluctant to let them go, even now. He smiled, soft and real, his usually sharp expression softened in a rare, unguarded moment.

“Tomorrow…” he began, a hint of amusement in his voice, “you might just have to stay late again.”

[sc4rrc]

Jealous much, but for a 'solid' reason

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- 2012!Donnie x reader - Jealous much, but for a 'solid' reason - Fluff - Warnings: None Request: Nope, just came up with this on my own whilst reading through some one shots of my personal favourite creators. You like Donnie, he likes you. But you're both as oblivious as ever, despite clearly showing each other that you care. And as a date is set between you and someone who is -clearly- NOT Donnie, he finds it hard to not feel jealous. ════════════════════

For quite some time, nearly since you met, both you and Donnie had held an affection for one another. Whether it was how he saved you and your friend, April, from the Kraang that first drew you to him, or the fact that he so easily got along with you from then on, it didn’t seem to matter. You became close from that point, and eventually you even took part in most of their missions—after you’d gotten more familiar with fighting through Splinter’s lessons.

A few problems did arise between the two of you though, like how oblivious you both seemed when it came to actually catching on that someone might be interested. Or the way doubt crept in because of your close friendship. He’d compliment you a lot, always ensuring your safety on missions, and you did the same for him. But somehow, you both missed the bigger picture. “It’s not something new; he worries about all of us during fights,” you’d tell yourself whenever April pointed it out.

And it was true; he always watched out for his brothers, too. How could he not? They were family. But there he was, watching you train, helping you improve when Splinter was busy.

Other times, you’d be the one to assist him. Sometimes you’d grab things from the top that he did not have easy access to, or simply keep him company in the lab to make sure he took breaks. Lunch, water—the basics. But one thing you both did constantly, no matter how oblivious each of you seemed in the moment, was stare. Even from across the room, one of you would be looking at the other. On movie nights, for example, you’d sit on the couch, Mikey on your right and Casey on your left, everyone focused on the screen—except Donnie, whose gaze would occasionally drift toward you.

He’d become well aware that he was absolutely, undeniably infatuated with you. Even he knew he sometimes went a bit too far with his attention, though his brothers never hesitated to tease him. Raph, mostly. But with his feelings also came doubt, for both of you. After so long, with neither of you daring to believe the other felt the same, you both wondered if it could ever work. You didn’t want to risk your precious friendship on a confession that might lead to rejection. So, silence it was.

“I don’t know, April. Just think about it. If I say something, and he doesn’t feel the same, then this might just ruin our friendship. And I don’t want that.”

Harsh words to admit, really. The thought wasn’t exactly pleasant. April had been trying for ages to nudge you both toward a confession, convinced it would lead to something good. Or maybe that was just the hopeless romantic in her, but she hoped nonetheless. And despite her efforts—along with the boys’ attempts to coax Donnie out of his safe shell—neither of you would budge. Sighing, she finally said, “That is fair, I suppose. But I still stand by what I said earlier. Forgetting doesn’t sound like the best alternative. I’ll help, but that doesn’t mean I’m agreeing with this plan.”

Her words made you smile in gratitude. Crushing on Donnie, though a genuine feeling, had become almost frustrating. He seemed so unaware of your feelings—close, yet so distant. It made you wonder if maybe he really didn’t feel the same. And yes, that stung a little. But it also made you realize that moving on might be necessary. For everyone’s sake, including your own. So, when a boy in your History class asked you out, you accepted. It felt like progress for a moment, but only for a moment. Soon, it became a test to see how quickly you could let go of Donnie, knowing that dwelling on him wasn’t helping you move forward. And after all, it was just a date—a way to focus on someone else. ════════════════════

When it came to being in that position—being told by the girl he couldn’t stop being so fond of that she had a date with some guy, a human guy no less—Donnie wanted to dig himself a hole in the lab and never come out. He’d imagined this day might come, and he felt like he was losing his chance—if he ever even had one. His heart sank as the words left your mouth, and it was hard not to show his disappointment. But for your sake, he put on a smile and congratulated you. He even wished you good luck. Then, once you left the lair, he retreated to his lab, shutting the door behind him, eyes focused on his work. Anything to avoid thinking about his growing jealousy, even for a moment. The others noticed the slump in his shoulders as he walked away but decided to let him be. They knew it might be a long evening in the lair, but they figured the situation might resolve itself—if it could.

--- Time Skip ---

Hours went by, some faster than others, and soon you found yourself back in your apartment, changed into a new set of clothes, ready to sleep the day away. Reflecting on what was supposed to be a date, you thought back to what he’d said: “Listen, I’m not really one for these serious things, ’kay? You’re cute, I’ll give you that. But I’ve got my ways around relationships, if you want to keep me happy.” That was about all you’d heard before mentally checking out of the “date.” He seemed nice at first but turned out to be a self-centred idiot—not the good kind of idiot either. And with all his talking, you made little effort to understand what he really meant.

You couldn’t recall the whole conversation, but you knew there was no way you’d repeat the experience. The things he said—about you and about others—were all wrong for you. He kept going on about some “party with girls” he had to get to, and the moment he crossed a line, you’d made your exit, realizing just how little interest you had in seeing him again.

You’d only just drifted off when a soft, rhythmic tapping at the window stirred you back to consciousness. Groaning, you pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders and shuffled toward the window, squinting through the curtains. It could only be one of the guys, you knew, but the last thing you expected was to find Donnie, hanging upside down on the fire escape patiently, his expression hovering somewhere between nervous and excited.

Fighting back a laugh, you pushed the window open. “Donnie?” you whispered, the surprise obvious in your voice. “What are you doing here?”

He offered a tentative smile, voice low. “Hey. Sorry if I woke you. Just, uh… thought I’d check in. Make sure you got home okay.”

You laughed softly, raising an eyebrow. “It’s a bit late for a check-in, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I know, but…” He shrugged, his calm exterior cracking just enough to reveal a hint of nervousness. “Couldn’t help myself. April mentioned the date didn’t, uh… go quite how you planned?”

A sigh slipped from you as you pulled the blanket around yourself a little tighter, rolling your eyes. April, of course. “You could say that,” you chuckled. “He was… something, alright.” You caught his amused grin, the faint hint of relief there not lost on you. You shook your head, feeling a smile tug at your lips despite it all.

Donnie’s face softened, his eyes meeting yours. “Yeah, well… I think you deserve better than that.” His voice was quiet, sincere, but even he looked surprised by his own words, cheeks darkening just a bit under his mask. “I mean, someone who’d treat you better than that. A lot better, actually.”

A warmth spread through you, his words settling in, making you feel a little lighter after such a disappointing night. His gaze hadn’t wavered, and you felt yourself holding your breath, caught off guard by how much his simple words meant.

“Thanks, Donnie. For worrying about me,” you said, the words barely a whisper. Before either of you could overthink it, you leaned out the window and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Donnie froze completely, his eyes wide, his usual calm vanishing in a heartbeat as he stared at you, utterly speechless. It took him a second—maybe two—before he swallowed, blinking a few times as if to process that the kiss had actually happened. A deep blush crept over his face, nearly reaching the edges of his mask.

“Oh. I, yeah.. Anytime,” he stammered, his voice slightly higher than usual. His hand moved almost instinctively to where you’d kissed him, and for a second, he was all but suspended there, entirely lost in the moment.

You bit back a laugh, giving him a little wave before you gently closed the window and pulled the curtain back in place. A small thrill ran through you as you moved back toward bed, a smile lingering even as you settled back under the blankets.

Outside, Donnie remained still, one hand pressed to his cheek, replaying the moment over and over in his head. A grin broke out slowly across his face, unable to hold back the ridiculous happiness building up inside him. "Oh, man... She kissed me. She actually kissed me.” He couldn’t help the ridiculous grin on his face as he clambered back up the fire escape, his heart still thudding as he slipped back into the shadows, feeling no more of that jealousy from earlier. Not even the knowing looks from his brothers as he made his way through the entrance of the lair brought him fully back, his mind still stuck in that moment.

════════════════════ A/N: Here's my first one-shot. I think it turned out pretty good, considering nearly half of what I made the other night in drafts did not save. But idk if I should make a part 2 for this? I could, if I feel like it. It also depends on what you guys want so I might pole it, but the main idea is that I did it. (Also I love Donnie so much, he's so bf material.) - I do NOT give permission for any of my work to be republished on any other sites, or even here. Not Ao3, not Wattpad, nowhere. This is simply for entertainment purposes and I would appreciate respecting this.

[ahllohehn]

🔱 THE GODS HAVE CHOSEN THEIR HERO! 🔱

>> about au >> au tag >> discord

By the power vested upon me (lol), I am now announcing the official winner of the Hermits and The Olympians Fanfiction Contest :] !

Once again, to remind everyone, the winner was chosen through amount of kudos/votes/likes and can choose from either prizes; a comic based on their submitted work or requested rendered art.

All submissions have been acknowledged to be amayzin' so I encourage everyone to read everyone's works nonetheless if they won or not :)

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FIRST PLACE 👑 OFFICIAL WINNER (42 kudos)

I will protect you (at least I'll try) by @star-cluster-nyx & @tallassredwood

Officially congratulations to our winners for the contest! Your fanfic has genuinely been a heartwarming experience. Grian and Pearl had nothing but each other, but sibling relationships aren't always that pretty. You showed that relationship dynamic really well in a very fun style and pacing.

Do tell me which one will be your point person so I could discuss about your prize :p ! ───────── ⋆⋅ 🔱 ⋅⋆ ─────────

SECOND PLACE 👑 RUNNER UP (32 kudos)

like roots, burrowing by @unreliable-bean

Our first submission and one of the works that won over our Mumscarian hearts </3 (after wrangling it around with angst for a few scenes /j). A mix of Minecraft mechanics and PJO mechanics is always fun! You fused them really well with such a nice pacing. The use of Scar's abnormal origins was a good touch to provide solutions to the conflict. Exciting writing as always :D

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THIRD PLACE 👑 RUNNER UP (17 kudos)

I’ll always be there (sparkling and shining) by Munchkin1156

Always a joy to see Grian-centric fics, thank you for submitting this! With the addition of the watchers to an unseemingly normal PJO AU, you've written the journey of Grian under their influence really well! A shame that the image still won't load on the link, but I would also like to say that your friend's art was amayzin'! An amazing drawing paired with an amazing work :]

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ALL MY (as well as the secret judges') FAVORITES :>

The Saint of Apollo by Nerdking14 Thank you for participating, genuinely. I know you've been writing about this even since before the fanfiction contest was announced and I truly commend you for putting your time, effort, and wonderful writing for our darling Empires campers. The way you adapted the previous small drabbles and headcanons to your story was exciting and I was happy those were done justice. You did justice to Camp Empires and I'm sure the gods would commend you for that too.

Oracle of Delphi by ethotek Mod [Hyunjin Yoon] expressed personal favorite to our dearest oracle. Extremely in love with how you adapted Gem's little complicated background into your writing. Lovely work that captured Gem's confusion and inner doubts really well :) This would've been a joy to delve deeper into through a comic, but let's return to it another time!

You were able to settle Gem into her home! But is she truly there?

It had always been just a game by Linny Heartwrenching, but captures well the realistic losses demigods would inevitably go through in a mythological world as teenagers. Gruesome, but filled with love for your ships' dynamics. Very good work :]

Again, thank you everyone who participated and even supported/read everyone's works. Although it pains me that I cannot give anything to everyone to show my gratitude, I simply wish you continue to enjoy your time here even if I cannot be much!

From the depths of the Underworld, to the vastness of the Seas, to the freedom of the Skies── Thank you very much for checking out Hermits and The Olympians! GGs to all participants!

[stars-tonight]

SLEEPY SHENANIGANS (FT. ANAKIN SKYWALKER)

synopsis: anakin skywalker always needs something to hold on to when he sleeps, and that something is you! fluff, pre-established relationship

word count: 443

anakin was generally a nice person to sleep next to. he was warm and brought a sense of security to you, even when both of you were comfortably off in dreamland. he always, always, always slept with you in his arms, and he’d never go to sleep if you weren’t right next to him, even if it meant he had to flick his own forehead to stay awake. when he sleeps, there’s a little crease in his eyebrows; his lips are slightly parted, and he either bear-hugs you from the back or clings onto your arm like a koala. it’s adorable. usually. when it’s summertime, it’s a different story.

“ani,” you whisper-groan, after waking up for what feels like the third time just tonight. “let’s sleep separately, please? just for tonight? it’s so hot.”

he’s still happily snoring away, so you try to wriggle away from his grasp. at your movement, anakin lets out a small whine, arms snaking around your waist to pull you back next to him comfortably. he lets out a satisfied little sigh, air puffing through his lips in a short exhale, and you can’t help but feel your will disappear. he’s still asleep, but anakin has been through years of strength training, so there’s no way you can force your way out of his grasp. and right now, you don’t really want to anymore anyway.

there’s no more cool spots on your pillow, and anakin’s skin is definitely not an option. you try to maneuver yourself into a comfortable position, feeling your pajamas stick to your skin with a sheer layer of sweat. you let out an uncomfortable sigh, wiping the perspiration off your forehead.

you look up at anakin. his facial muscles are twitching slightly--he must be dreaming. you reach up and brush some hair out of his face, and his face relaxes almost immediately. he pulls you even closer, tucking you safely into his warmth. even while asleep--especially while asleep--he clings to you as if he’s afraid you won’t be next to him when he wakes up.

you lean your head on anakin’s chest. the stifling heat is inescapable, and you might as well embrace that. besides, it’s not often anakin has a peaceful night of sleep, and it’s starting to look like this night will be one of those rare but highly treasured ones. you lean up and quickly press a kiss to anakin’s nose, before wrapping your arms around his waist, fully accepting the fact that you will wake up with your legs tangled and sweat glistening on your faces. and with that, you fall asleep listening to the sound of your lover’s heartbeat.

A/N: hey everyone! i’ve honestly been in quite a slump recently, a concussion and writer’s block is not a great combination. (it's been almost three weeks since i wrote anything. . .) so here’s a quick star wars fic--my first, hopefully of many!--i whipped up today. i promise promise promise i am working on requests and matchups. they will get done, i promise, and i’m so sorry for the wait