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abouttofillhisshoes · 2 days

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Eat me // Hot fudge - Matty Healy

part two

A/N: heyy y'all, this is what i've been cooking up these past few days. I hope you enjoy Waiter! Matty's incessant flirting.

content warnings: mentions of alcohol, flirting

wc: 5k

Life tip number one: if you sign a lease for a new flat, and said flat happens to be in a non-smoking building, maybe don't spend your days lighting up at every possible opportunity. Seems like common sense, no? Apparently not.

Matty scoffed when the landlord came to his door, throwing (quite factual) accusations around, telling him he knew he had been smoking in the building after specifically being told to take it outside. Now, he would have happily obliged if it wasn't the dead of winter and pissing it down almost every morning, making it impossible to step out for a quick smoke break throughout the day.

Threatening eviction, Matty simply nodded and dismissed him with a wave of his hand, saying he’d cut it out (and having absolutely no intention of doing so). Even so, Matty really couldn't afford to be kicked right now, with the flat being a perfect distance from his place of work, the commute consisting of three train stops and a short 5 minute walk to the front door of Roadkill.

The face you're making right now was the same one Matty made when Ross told him “Roadkill” was the name he had chosen for his new restaurant. While it might sound disgusting and vile, the food was quite nice, so there was little room to complain.

Since they were boys, the four of them had wanted to make music. Starting in a garage, recording emo tracks with shitty sound quality had been a hobby, which slowly morphed into a passion. Fifteen years they had been doing the same thing, trying to make it big. Hann, a legend on the guitar, had tried to get them in contact with record companies, begging for any of them to sign the band. To no avail, but that didn't stop Matty from dreaming.

Dreaming of sold out arenas, thousands of fans singing his own lyrics back to him. Groupies following them from city to city, screaming their names. The classic rockstar cliché, drinking and smoking his way to festival headlines, having even the Times beg him for an interview slot.

Nevertheless, those scenarios stayed in his dreams. As he grew older, the grey in his hair properly staring him in the face, Ross had decided that it was time to move on. Shitty pub gigs were not going to pay the bills forever, not that they ever really did. Mattys mother had begged him to go to uni, or at least finish his A-levels. Telling her it was all going to work itself out, he focused on his songwriting, sitting for hours, scribbling down rhymes and melodies. George was always by his side, yapping away about some music production bullshit that didn't interest him in the slightest.

But soon enough, Matty ran out of money. Ross had taken to opening up a restaurant, the type of place Matty would be caught dead in. Glazed wooden tables, warm, orange lighting, and red leather booths and chairs adorned the space, giving it a sort of aesthetic he could only describe as “old”.

All four of them had begun working there at some point or another, refusing to leave each other. Even if it was chaotic at times, the restaurant was like their child. A symbol of what could've been if the music thing had worked out. Matty still hadn't given up on it, spending every ounce of free time dreaming up new songs and music, taking it to George the moment he’d created something “truly promising”. George had found his new passion in the kitchen, curating the entirety of Roadkill’s menu, each dish more delicious than the last.

Adam had taken to the host stand, doing what he did best, which was ordering the rest of the restaurant around. Matty was reluctant in working there at first, knowing that everyone else would think he had “finally” given up on his silly dream of being a musician. He hated being a stereotype with all his heart.

He knew his shift started in less than half an hour, and that Adam would probably beat the shit out of him if he showed up late again, but that seemed irrelevant.

The bathroom mirror was littered with fingerprints and dust, making it hard for him to see himself. Wiping at the glass, he’s greeted by his three day old stubble, faint grey hairs to be seen on his neck and face. Eyeing his razor, he decided that there simply wasnt enough time to shave, knowing his train was leaving in ten minutes.

His hands search for the tub of gel sitting next to his toothbrush, the bathroom counter covered in remnants of it. Slapping some onto the top of his head, he runs his fingers through it, slicking it back. Ross had told him multiple times to just chop it off, but Matty refused, telling him he’ll just look older.

“You already look like you watch “The price is right” every evening, so there's not much more you can do.” that earned him a smack to the back of his head and an eye roll, muttering at him to fuck off and die.

Washing his hands in the sink, he inspects his clothes. Having gone out the previous evening, drinking way too much than was necessary, he had fallen asleep in his work attire. His dress shirt was slightly wrinkled, but acceptable. A small stain was visible at the bottom, but that would be covered by the ugly apron Ross forced him to wear while he worked. “Uniform” and what not.

Mumbling to himself, Matty scrambles for his keys and phone, stuffing them into his “purse”, as George so affectionately called it. It was a leather tote bag, perfectly acceptable for any modern man, not his fault his mate was still stuck in the 1950s, in terms of fashion. Grabbing his cigarettes off the front room table, he bolts to the door, slamming it behind him.

Pacing down the street, Matty manages to fumble his light two times before finally breathing in the nicotine, effectively calming himself down. Much to his luck, the train was late, and spending the additional ten minutes in the piss smelling station just worsened his already sour mood.

Scrolling through his phone, he could hear the group of ladies next to him talking obnoxiously loud, their voices drilling a hole into his skull.

Taking several deep breaths, as to not lash out at random strangers, Matts sighs in relief as he realizes the next stop is his.

Pushing the doors open, Hann immediately appears at his side, yelling into his ear about being almost ten minutes late. His saving grace appears as you walk through the entrance behind him, spotting the host stand. Adam greets you with a fake smile, eyeing Matty in the corner of his eye, silently telling him to fuck off and go do his job. He smirks back at the both of you, walking towards the staff changing room.

“Table for two?” he asks, flipping through pages of the restaurant layout. Completely unnecessary, seeing as the place was almost empty, with only a few patrons sitting down, munching away at various breakfast foods.

“Nah, just me today.” You try to sound happy, but eating breakfast alone at a restaurant wasn't exactly how you thought you’d be spending your Saturday morning. Your mate had ditched you for her boyfriend, making up some lame excuse to stay home with him. You understood to a certain degree, but it was still a dick move leaving you stranded like that.

“Booth?” you nod, and he leads you to a red booth towards the center of the restaurant, the dim lighting making you slightly tired, even if it was only eleven in the morning.

It's cozy, you gather, small lamps decorating the table as you sit down, setting your phone onto the glazed wooden surface. Picking up the menu, you run your fingers over the leather cover, admiring the fancy golden lettering on the front.

Meanwhile, Matty had already changed in the back room, and was now lounging about the kitchen, talking to George.

“And then he threatened to kick me out, can you believe that?” Matty moves his hands around to emphasize his words, running his fingers through his hair.

“I mean, it is a non-smoking building, innit?” He rolls his eyes, hopping off the counter as George tends to the eggs sizzling in the pan in front of him. Not even three seconds later, Ross comes bursting through the kitchen doors.

“Healy, are you fucking serious?? Go do your job!” his voice booms through the room, scaring the shit out of Matty. Bowing his head apologetically, he makes his way past Ross and to the floor, looking around his section. It was nearly empty, with most people already having been served their food and drinks.

His eyes land on you, scanning the menu. Fixing his slightly too big apron, he pulls out his small notepad and strolls over to you. The layout of the place is odd, and it takes a while before he finally stands in front of you, pen on paper, waiting for your order.

“What’ll it be?” His voice is rough, deep, his lack of sleep evident. Your words are caught in your throat, and you stutter before giving up completely. You weren't expecting him to come that fast, and he had taken you slightly by surprise.

“I- uh- i'm not sure?” You know you sound pathetic, and his facial expression doesn't help curb your anxiety. Setting the menu down, your hands clasp together as you stare at him, not sure what to say next.

Matty finds your reaction endearing, his eyes softening slightly as they meet yours. The height difference was intimidating, with him towering over you as you sat.

“Well, darling, seeing as it is..” he glances at his wristwatch “about 11am, i’d use my genius food-recommending skills to suggest some breakfast? What d’you fancy?” his northern accent catches you off guard, and you give him a once over, stealing a look at his name tag. Matthew, it reads, the bold silver letters standing out against his sandy button up shirt.

“What do you usually have?” The question makes Matty raise his eyebrows, cocking his head slightly.

“I personally like the egg and bacon sandwich, but there's lots of other-” “I’ll have that then.” you cut him off, smiling sweetly, handing him your menu. He nods, taking it out of your hand, simultaneously tucking his notepad away.

“Anything to drink?”

“A glass of merlot, please.” Now this surprises him.

“Wine? At this hour?” he leans onto the table, eyeing you up and down. You feel judged, but refuse to let it show.

“You look like the last person who should be lecturing me about my drinking habits, I can recognise a hangover when I see one.” you shoot back. Matty presses a hand to his chest, feigning offense.

“That's not very polite, is it?” he says, his voice tinged with something you can't recognise. A beat passes between the two of you, the silence full of tension.

“Are you sure you want me to be polite?”

Matty’s look of surprise is horribly hidden beneath a sly grin as he turns on his heel, giving you one last look over his shoulder. You watch him leave, your heart pounding in your chest. What the fuck was that?

His breaths are shallow as he puts in your order, shouting at George to make it quickly. Grabbing a silver platter from behind the bar, he pours you your glass of wine, measuring it out perfectly. Setting it onto the surface, he walks back over rather slowly, giving himself time to collect his thoughts.

“Here you are, your food will be out shortly.” you twirl the glass between your fingers before taking a small sip, your eyes never leaving Mattys. The liquid sloshes down your throat, and you hum in approval, nodding at him.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” He holds the platter in front of him, sort of like a shield. You give him another once over, before speaking.

“That's alright.” you pause “Thank you, Matthew.” your use of his first name makes his breath hitch in his throat.

“Only my mother calls me Matthew.” his nails scratch at the metal in his hands. “Please, call me Matty.”

“Matty.” you repeat, taking another sip. Your phone buzzes on the table, an incoming call flashing across the screen. Matty takes that as his cue to leave. Making his way to other tables, asking if they needed refills or the check.

You talk on the phone for a bit, quickly ending the call in favor of watching your waiter walk around the room, charming quests and handing out drinks. His features mesmerize you, and your eyes dont leave his frame until he steps back into the kitchen, disappearing from your view.

“Is table twelves order done yet? It's been ages.” Matty’s voice is tinged with annoyance, watching George plate the food.

“Oh fuck off, its been exactly ten minutes.” he grumbles, handing Matty the dish.

“Be quiet, or i'll tell Ross you keep making yourself food for free.” he threatens, grinning at the blonde man.

“You won't, because that would force me to reveal the reason behind the missing liquor bottles, and we would want that.”

Matty rolls his eyes, mumbling something under his breath before walking away.

The restaurant was steadily filling with more guests, with servers racing around the room, Adam looking positively stressed at the host stand. The lunch rush had officially begun. Businessmen and women sat down at tables, ordering steaks and burgers, getting annoyed when their food didn’t materialize in front of them within five minutes.

Matty hated the lunch rush, deeming it absolute hell on earth. Walking to your table, he almost drops your sandwich when another server, Jamie, bumps into him, balancing at least three platters in his arms.

“Sorry mate.” he mutters, rushing towards a table filled with what looked like accountants.

“Here's your food darling, sorry it took so long,” Mattys voice is sickly sweet, his grin never leaving his face. You smile, brushing imaginary dust off of yourself before taking a bite. Trying to keep his composure, he watches as your teeth sink into the sandwich, a content moan leaving your lips.

Your little noise makes Matty swallow wrong, sending him into a nasty coughing fit. Keeping calm, he asks you what you think of the food.

“Well, I can see why it's your favorite, it's really good.” egg yolk runs down the side of your face, and you quickly wipe it off, looking back up at Matty. “Give my compliments to the chef.” A snort escapes his mouth before he can stop it.

“Chef? That's just my mate George back there.” he gestures to the kitchen, giggling at the implication that there was an actual, qualified cook in there.

“Tell him then, I'm sure he doesn't get appreciated enough.”

“I'll let you know I appreciate him enough, thank you very much.”

His attention is pulled away by Ross shouting at him from behind the bar, telling him to get to his other tables. Your expression changes slightly, almost sad to see him go.

“Sorry love, duty calls.” Matty shrugs, his hand running through his hair once again, trying to keep in place. You nod, watching him leave.

The food is delicious, gone in less than ten minutes. Another server asks you if you want another glass of wine, and you gladly accept. Sipping and scrolling on your phone, you seem to lose track of time. People clear out, going back to their day jobs. The restaurant is emptier, the loud atmosphere finally dying down. You feel like you can think again.

Looking around to try and spot Matty, you're greeted by him already walking towards you, a plate of something in his hands.

—-----------------------------------------------

“Hey mate, make me a thing of fudge, will you?” Matty asks, seeing George wasn't all that busy. George was the head chef, making most dishes, leaving only simple things like salads and soups to the others. He had made the menu after all, so who better to cook the food than him?

“Sure, who’s it for?”

“Table twelve.” George's eyes scan the meal tickets, not seeing the order. Matty hops back up onto the counter, watching George closely.

“I don't see the order, did you forget to ring in again?” he accuses. Matty pretends to be offended, but even he knows the accusation doesn’t come without reason.

He had a habit of simply forgetting to put in orders, which always ended in him begging George to make it quickly so he wouldn't get his ass handed to him by the customer waiting 30 minutes for a simple soup.

“Nah, now stop being a twat and make it.” Matty spits, avoiding eye contact.

“Not until you tell me why.” he shoots back, crossing his arms over his chest, looking at the server expectantly.

“It's for a girl, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? Jesus christ."

Now, this was definitely not the answer George was expecting from him, a small, involuntary giggle escaping him.

“A girl? Are you taking the piss?”

Matty punches his arm, silently telling him to shut the fuck up and just make it. George doesn't stop smiling condescendingly, making a show out of drawing a small heart on top of the fudge.

“Here, for your girl.” he grins, handing it to him. Grabbing it out of George's hands rather violently, Matty curses at him.

“She's not my girl.” his words sound insincere, not going unnoticed by George.

—---------------------------------------------

Matty sets the plate onto your table, scooping up the other dishes and putting them onto his platter. He grins at you as you see the heart.

“I didnt-” “I know.” he predicts your words, cutting you off before you could even finish your sentence.

“So why-” he nudges your foot, and your breath hitches slightly.

“Consider it a gift, I hope you like it.” His voice is low, gravely. His eyes pierce yours as he watches you take a bite, the fudge melting in your mouth. You let out a moan around the spoon, this time purposefully looking at him for a reaction. His lips part slightly as he watches you swallow.

“It's delicious.” you say, eyeing him up and down. “Please, do tell George his cooking is phenomenal.” The mention of another man's name makes Matty’s hands shift beneath the platter. You notice, smiling up at him, batting your eyelashes.

“Thank you Matty, you really didn't have to.” His expression softens, and he shakes his head, indicating that it was, in fact, his pleasure. Comfortable silence settles between the two of you, the cozy lighting of the restaurant illuminating his face perfectly. You admire him, memorizing every single discernable feature of his face.

You notice his shirt has the first few buttons undone, revealing a trace of a tattoo. The faded ink catches your eye, and you can't help but stare.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” His words snap you out of your daze, and you can feel a deep blush spread onto your face.

“You have tattoos.” you sound like a complete idiot saying it like that. Cringing inwardly, Matty’s laughter fills your ears, making you inevitably smile.

“I have a bunch.” he states, rolling up his sleeve to reveal multiple pieces littering his forearm.

“You’ll have to show me then sometime.” your boldness surprises him, and he takes a step towards you. You turn back to your dessert, filling your mouth with another spoonful of warm fudge.

The tension is now so thick, you could cut through it with a knife. He continues standing there, platter in hand, not moving.

“You want the check?” he asks, making a writing motion with his left hand. The dishes almost fall off of the platter in his hand, but he manages to straighten himself just in time. You giggle at the almost accident, hiding your mouth behind your hand.

“C’mon, dont hide that pretty smile from me.” You blush, eyes avoiding his.

“Just give me the check.” your voice is slightly shaky, and you cringe again, trying to regain your composure. What the actual fuck was wrong with you?

“Be right back darling, enjoy your dessert.” His casual use of the pet name made you take a deep breath, steadying yourself as he walked away. His hips swayed as he made his way toward the back, bringing the dirty dishes away.

Though he seemed unaffected, his demeanor changed the moment he was out of your line of sight.

Leaning against the wall of the walk-in fridge, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. The way you flirted back at him made his head spin, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. Most of the time, he flirted out of boredom, or better tips. This was different.

The reactions he got were almost always the same. A giggle, and maybe some dry conversation, and the inevitable ask for his number. He never said yes, wanting to keep the interaction strictly within the perimeter of the restaurant.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that if you had asked for his number, he wouldn't have said no. This made him feel slightly uneasy, like he wasn't in control. Taking deep breaths to calm himself, just like you had not done ten seconds earlier, he went to get the check from the register.

George winked at him as he walked by, gesturing to you, still sitting at the same table after almost three hours. He hadn't realized how much time had passed, an hour seeming like only a few minutes when talking to you. Shaking it off, he checks over other tables before finally returning to give you your bill.

“You really didn't have to pay for my dessert.” you mumble, taking the piece of paper out of his hand. When you do, your fingers brush against each other, and you can feel your heart race in your chest.

His eyes stare at you from above, and you raise your eyebrows, desperately trying to appear nonchalant. Realizing you didn't have a pen, you spot one in the pocket of Matty’s apron. Without thinking, you reach out to grab it, your hand lightly grazing his front. You swear you see his hips twitch, but convince yourself it was only a figment of your imagination.

Your handwriting is messy, the pen scratching loudly against the paper. The total came to £23, and you smile to yourself as you round up to forty, leaving him a nice tip. His eyes widen as he reads it, trying to protest.

“You don't have-”

“Just let me spoil you a bit, yeah?”

Your voice drips like honey as you swat his hand away. Matty huffs, reluctantly letting you hand him your card with a huge grin on your face.

This time, he deliberately lets your hands touch, lingering for a few seconds too long before pulling away, turning to walk towards the till located at the back.

He opens the leather check booklet, eyes raking over the paper. His breath hitches as he notices a heart scrawled next to the total. Of course you’d do that.

Reaching for your card, he flips it over, searching for your name. His heart sinks when his eyes land on two initials. No name.

Charging the card, he lets the receipt print. It takes ages, and he makes a mental note to remind Ross to invest in some decent equipment. It's not like he didn't have the funds, he just loved making Matty’s life difficult.

The walk back to your table seems endless, narrowly avoiding bumping into Jamie again. Setting the booklet with your card onto the table, he thanks you again for the tip, his hands playing with the inside of his pockets.

“Did you find everything alright?” he asks the mandatory question, unable to stop the grin that spreads onto his face as you tell him everything was absolutely terrible, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I'm only joking, I loved it. Tell the owner I like the aesthetic of the place.” Matty sighs, voicing his hatred for the dim lighting and glazed wood of the tables.

“I think it's quite nice, even if the name is a bit crude.” He laughs.

“That's what I told Ross when he opened the place, but he insisted on naming it that for some reason.” His hands move erratically as he tells you the story of him and Ross, how he had been so kind to give him a job when he was unable to hold down anything else.

“It seems like the whole restaurant is some sort of big friend group, innit?” you question.

“Sort of, we’re all mates here. Known each other since we were about fourteen.” he says proudly.

“Adam’s the one who sat you earlier, he's the responsible one. Keeps our books too. We all call him Hann though, don't think he responds to Adam anymore.” he giggles, turning to face the bar.

“Ross is our owner and resident dickhead. He bartends sometimes when he’s too cheap to pay an actual bartender.” you watch him make a drink for a disgruntled looking business man. “We all hope and pray ALE doesn't raid the place.”

He goes on about the servers: Jamie, Polly, and John.

“Again, no one really calls him John, his name’s Waughy to ‘most everyone.”

At some point, Matty had sat down across from you, and you hung on his every word. His voice made you feel entranced, the thick northern accent only pulling you in further. He talked about the fact that he was an actual trained bartender, and you make him promise to show you his skills at some point.

“So, what do you drink? Besides wine, of course.” he asks, leaning his head against his fist.

“You're gonna be disappointed.” you mumble, his smirk making butterflies flutter in your stomach. He raises his eyebrows, assuring you it can't possibly be that bad.

“Go on, tell me.” you take a deep breath.

“Aperol spritz.” the words hang in the air for a second before Matty bursts out laughing. You shoot him a look, and he collects himself before speaking.

“You just ordered wine at 11am, acting all mysterious, and you’re telling me your drink of choice is fucking Aperol Spritz?”

“Oh yeah? Don't act all high and mighty just because you probably drink fucking whiskey or some other “classy” shit.” you spit back, leaning against the leather of the booth.

“Oops, caught me.” he laughs again, childlike giggles escaping his lips.

“Shut up.” you mumble as you finish your third glass of wine, Matty insisting on giving it to you on the house. Giddy and slightly day-drunk, you realize you had been sitting there for nearly four hours.

“Jesus, I better get going.” you see Matty deflate, his shoulders visibly dropping. He gets up, taking your wine glass with him as he stands next to you, looking down.

“You never did tell me your name.” His voice is small, almost timid.

You shrug, giving him a once over before getting up. Even standing up completely straight, he towers over you, the top of your head only reaching his jaw. Craning your neck upwards, you take a small step back.

“I guess i'll just have to tell you next time, won't I?”

The implication makes Matty’s heart skip a beat. His hands wrap around the glass he's holding, gripping it tightly.

“Next time?” he asks. You nod, turning to walk away. Every fiber of his being wants him to call after you, to somehow get you to stay a bit longer. He knew it wasn't possible, and watching you go was almost painful. His eyes followed the sway of your hips until you disappeared from his line of sight.

“‘Till next time.” he mumbles under his breath, turning to the host stand, being met with more guests being sat by Adam. His section was slowly filling up again, and he got to work, taking drink orders and flirting with older women for better tips. The day continued as normal, but one thought just wouldn't leave him alone. The thought of a next time with you.

Next time.

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hannie-dul-set · 5 hours

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AN UNLIKELY FANMEETING.

p — LEE JENO x female! reader. g — gang leader! jeno, actress! reader, humor, tension tension tension, jeno gets kidnapped by his celebrity crush, this is stupid, this is dumb, don't take this seriously. w — swearing, kidnapping, morally dubious characters HAHHAHA. 935 words.

note — happy birthday jeno. to the anon that sent the trope list curated for me, this is your fault. take responsibility. the prompt "accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss" suddenly terrorized my brain while i was studying. enjoy.

when lee jeno opens his eyes, a dull ringing in his ears, he sees nothing but the faint impression of a lightbulb burning through the sack covering his head. it’s dark. there’s an echo when he grunts and tries to move, but upon feeling the rope pressed against his wrists, the stiffness of his shoulders and the metal scratching of the chair against the rough ground— he’s quick to understand the situation he’s in.

the last thing he remembers, he was about to board a plane to japan. to spend a few months lying low after the particularly risky job his gang had to undertake not too long ago.

seems like someone managed to sniff him out before he could flee.

splash!

“wake up, you slimy son of a bitch.”

cold water hits, seeping into the fabric covering his face and crawling down to his collarbones. now, considering his line of work, jeno isn’t too fazed by this situation. he has a lot of enemies. maybe this one’s from a rival gang. could be a relative seeking revenge for a brother’s cracked skull, or some shit. doesn’t matter. he’s not gonna stay sitting for long anyway.

“did you really think you could cheat on me and run away scot free?”

cheat? the sack gets thrown off from his head, a hand yanking a handful of his hair to pull his head back and he lets out a grunt. the chair is tipped back. jesus fucking christ, that felt personal. but when the sudden illumination stops blinding him, and he can finally see who the hell had the guts to jump and kidnap him, he’s a little taken aback.

jeno has a lot of enemies. the list goes on and on.

“use your fucking mouth, bast—”

but he’s pretty sure that the darling angel of south korea’s film industry isn’t on that list.

jeno watches as the vivid scorn and disgust in your eyes slowly meld into confusion, then realization, then a slow but sure descent into panic alongside the loosening of your grip.

“oh.”

must be the skills of an award winning actress. he feels almost a hint of disappointment when you stop pulling on the roots of his damp hair.

“oh, shit. one moment.”

clang! the chair he’s tied to settles once more into the ground with a clatter, and jeno watches as you quickly secure a distance between you and him, pulling your phone out of your sweats while biting the tips of your thumbnail. it’s a little funny seeing the nation’s sweetheart pacing back and forth all jittery in what looks like a basement— maybe your basement. as far as jeno can remember, you’re always casted for romance films. those feel-good, slice of lives and the pocari sweat commercial you once did echoes in the back of his head. but maybe you have a hidden knack for some thriller.

he starts fiddling with the ropes tied around his wrists right at the moment you screech into your phone. dispatch would have a field day if they see this.

“you got the wrong guy! my ex isn’t this hot!”

his fingers slip. his skin scratches the rough threads of the rope.

“i paid you useless fucks a shit ton of money to get the job done, but you can’t even get— ugh! nevermind. just go and bring me the actual son of a bitch i asked for this time.”

the knot is almost loose. this is quite the show. it’s better than all the movies he’s seen of you.

“what?! hello?! what do you mean you can’t help me anymore, what about our—”

drop. jeno gets up from the chair. he stretches his joints, neck cracking, watching as you sputter out a trove of profanities at your phone. his clothes are still damp from the water you splashed him earlier. maybe he should have a bit of fun first before leaving. it’s not everyday that you get to meet your celebrity crush.

“hey, dollface,” he calls out. you freeze. you look at him with the drop of a needle, eyes growing a little bit wider when you realize he should be sitting down. damn, they really need to cast you in a grittier film. “you should pay a bit more attention when you have someone hostage.”

a beat of silence.

“uhm,” your voice croaks. jeno takes a step towards you. you take a step back. “listen, haha, there has been a misunderstanding.”

your steps stutter a little, moving back and back and you swallow nervously, looking at him with almost sheepishly— a sense of feigned bravery in the midst of retreat, teeth tugging on the skin of your lips. “oh, yeah?” he says, and you visibly rattle. you’re prettier like this than when you’re batting your eyes and flirting at the camera. you’re definitely prettier.

“yes, ahaha, there was a minor switch-up, you see i— i didn’t mean to...uh, escort you from the airport, i actually meant to target someone else, and— o–oh, and there’s a wall behind me. oops, haha. do you mind backing away a bit, um—”

“how about i help you with the ex boyfriend problem you have?”

the tables turn. it’s him digging his face up against yours this time, but the mention of your ex strikes a chord. you’re looking at him, gaze unbreaking. he can feel your shallow breaths on his skin.

“who are you exactly?”

“someone who can do the job better that the fuckers you sent me, definitely,” he chuckles. “how about it?”

he won’t ask for much. maybe just an autograph in return.

AN UNLIKELY FANMEETING. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

#jeno x you #lee jeno x reader #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream x you #nct dream sc #nct dream scenarios #nct sce #nct scenarios #jeno x reader #nct drabbles #nct au #jeno au #this is not proofread btw fuck it we ball!!!

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galaxygolfergirl · 7 hours

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Watcher's Expenses

I didn't major in accounting: I took three classes and it grinded my brain to a fine powder. However, after graduating with a business admin degree, being a former eager fan of their videos, and from a cursory glance over their socials, there's a lot to consider in their spending behavior that really could start racking up costs. Some of these things we've already noticed, but there are other things I'd like to highlight, and I'll try to break it down into the different categories of accounting expenses (if I get something wrong, let me know. I was more concentrated in marketing 🤷‍♀️). I'm not going to hypothesize numbers either, as that would take out more time than I'm willing to afford-- you can assume how much everything costs. Anyways, here's my attempt at being a layman forensic accountant:

Note: All of this is assuming they're operating above board and not engaging in any illegal practices such as money laundering, tax evasion, not paying rent, etc.

Operating Expenses

Payroll: 25+ staff salaries and insurance

Overhead Expenses

CEO/founder salaries

Office space leasing or rent (In L.A, one of the most expensive cities in the US)

Utilities (water, electricity, heating, sanitation, etc.)

Insurance

Advertising Costs

Telephone & Internet service

Cloud Storage or mainframe

Office equipment (furniture, computers, printers, etc.)

Office supplies (paper, pens, printer ink, etc.)

Marketing costs (Social media marketing on Instagram, Youtube, SEO for search engines, Twitter, etc. Designing merchandise and posters, art, etc. )

Human Resources (not sure how equipped they are)

Accounting fees

Property taxes

Legal fees

Licensing fees

Website maintenance (For Watchertv.com, Watcherstuff.com, & Watcherentertainment.com)

Expenses regarding merchandising (whoever they contract or outsource for that)

Inventory costs

Potentially maintenance of company vehicles

Subsequent gas mileage for road trips

Depreciation (pertains to tangible assets like buildings and equipment)

Amortization (intangible assets such as patents and trademarks)

Overhead Travel and Entertainment Costs (I think one of the biggest culprits, evident in their videos and posts)

The travel expenses (flights, train trips, rental cars, etc. For main team and scouts)

Hotel expenses for 7-8 people at least, or potentially more

Breakfasts, lunches and dinners with the crew (whether that's fully on their dime or not, I don't know; Ryan stated they like to cover that for the most part)

Recreational activities (vacation destinations, amusement parks, sporting activities etc.)

The location fees

Extraneous Overhead costs (not sure exactly where these fall under, but another culprit, evident in videos and posts)

Paying for guest appearances

Expensive filming & recording equipment (Cameras, sound equipment, editing software subscriptions, etc.)

The overelaborate sets for Ghost files, Mystery Files, Puppet History, Podcasts etc. (Set dressing: Vintage memorabilia, antiquated tech, vintage furniture, props, etc.)

Kitchen & Cooking supplies/equipment

Office food supply; expensive food and drink purchases for videos

Novelty items or miscellaneous purchases (ex. Ghost hunting equipment, outfits, toys, etc.)

Non-Operating Expenses

These are those expenses that cannot be linked back to operating revenue. One of the most common examples of non-operating expenses is interest expense. This is because while interest is the cost of borrowing money from a creditor or a bank, they are not generating any operating income. This makes interest payments a part of non-operating expenses.

Financial Expenses

Potential loan payments, borrowing from creditors or lenders, bank loans, etc.

Variable Expenses

Hiring a large amount of freelancers, overtime expenditure, commissions, etc.

PR consultations (Not sure if they had this before the scandal)

Extraordinary Expenses

Expenses incurred outside your company’s regular business activities and during a large one-time event or transactions. For example, selling land, disposal of a significant asset, laying off of your employees, unexpected machine repairing or replacement, etc.

Accrued Expenses

When your business has incurred an expense but not yet paid for it.

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(If there's anything else I'm missing, please feel free to add or correct things)

To a novice or a young entrepreneur, this can be very intimidating if you don't have the education or the support to manage it properly. I know it intimidates the hell out of me and I'm still having to fill in the gaps (again, if I've mislabeled or gotten anything wrong here, please let me know). For the artistic or creative entrepreneur, it can be even harder to reconcile the extent of your creative passions with your ability to operate and scale your business at a sustainable rate. That can lead to irresponsible, selfish, and impulsive decisions that could irreparably harm your brand, which is a whole other beast of its own.

My guess at this point is that their overhead and operation expenses are woefully mismanaged; they've made way too many extraneous purchases, and that they had too much confidence in their audience of formerly 2.93 million to make up for the expenses they failed to cover.

It almost seems as if their internal logic was, "If we make more money, we can keep living the expensive lifestyle that we want and make whatever we want without anyone telling us we can't, and we want to do it NOW, sooner rather than later because we don't want wait and compromise our vision." But as you can see, the reality of fulfilling those ambitions is already compromised by the responsibility of running a business.

And I wrote this in another post here, but I'll state it again: Running a business means you need to be educated on how a business can successfully and efficiently operate. Accounting, marketing, social media marketing, public relations, production, etc; these resources and internet of things is available and at your disposal. If they had invested more time in educating themselves on those aspects and not made this decision based on artistic passion (and/or greed), they would have not gotten the response they got.

Being a graphic designer, I know the creative/passionate side of things but I also got a degree/got educated in business because I wanted to understand how to start a company and run it successfully. If they’re having trouble handling the responsibility of doing that, managing production costs, managing overhead expenses, and especially with compensating their 25+ employees, then they should hire professionals that are sympathetic to their creative interests, but have the education and experience to reign in bad decisions like these.

Anyways, thanks for coming to my TedTalk. What a shitshow this has been.

#watcher #watcher entertainment #ryan bergara #shane madej #steven lim #watcher tv #watchergate #accounting

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emo-queer-boi · 2 days

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I think is because of comments like this that Im more heartbroken over Shane doing this than the others, now don't get me wrong I'm not part of the "shane was pushed into doing this by the two evil greedy guys he calls friends" (which btw reeks of racism) the fact that I'm not part of it makes it more sad to me, because I Know he decided to do this, he knows how hard it is to just buy groceries nowadays, not even getting specific into the age group of most of the fans.

I simply can't afford it, I had originally written a whole paragraph about my situation rn and went into a lot of over sharing about really tragic things but I really don't Have to, I can't afford it, and thats that, and it's an understatement to say I've been through many situations where I haven't been able to afford stuff that would have helped my mental health but they were too on the side of "wants" and not "needs"

So no, I'm not upset over this because "boo hoo I dont want to spend money/I'm not used to not getting things I want for free." I'm upset over this and it feels like a slap in the face when it comes from someone like Shane, who says stuff like this that makes me and others think he gets it enough to not put all his future content behind a paywall when so many of us find it comfort content

I know a lot of us are mostly blaming Steven for this, and bringing up stuff about his life like the tesla or food habits and all that, but I beg you guys to see that as big of a shitty thing it is to be out of touch and oblivious about how much your audience can take, I consider it honestly just as bad if not worse to Know and still do it

No I don't think Shane is rich, or at the same level as a famous actor or that charging us 6 dollars for future content is the same level of tone deaf and pretentiousness as celebrities singing Imagine during the pandemic

Another disclaimer: I'm pretty fucking priviledge when it comes to money that my parents can pay for me to have all the necessities to not only survive nowadays but actually enjoy it with certain comforts, I still can't afford it, so I really don't want to think about how people that don't have my privileges feel about this

All in all, shitty fucking decision with understandable reasons pushing it to happen, I don't think any content creator wants to depend on YouTube deciding on giving them sponsors that magically go with the video they're supporting

But please stop acting like Shane isn't a grown man that is aware of not only everything he has stood for in the past but the way things have gotten worse lately for I would say 99% of us

#watcher #shane madej

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takeachillpillshawty · 3 days

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No, some people do shit on Vil. I like to think there's a spectrum when it comes to Vil haters and Vil lovers.

Vil haters will demonize Vil and call him racist because he 'hates' Epel's accent, when that's not even true! He hates how crude and inappropriate he talks to others, you forget that Rook speaks French in some of his dialogues? Vil doesn't even bat an eye making the whole Vil is racist thing completely ridiculous and meaningless.

'Vil is abuse towards Epel!' Epel literally tried to pick a fight first and y'all are mad he actually got hurt? What did you want Vil to do? Stand there and take it? You all make jokes about Riddle getting his shit rocked by Ace because he was a little shit, but mad at Vil for doing the same to Epel? Vil doesn't go out of his way to abuse Epel, the fuck?! And I'm not saying that Epel is a terrible person nor a saint, we can have characters who are both flawed and still like them.

I see Vil as the type of mom you think is an asshole but when you get older you realize she was trying he best to raise you when you were a difficult child. I do agree that Vil has flaws that he needs to work on, the thing some people can't comprehend is that Vil will admit that he's wrong. Vil isn't self centered or some snobby rich dude, he strives to be a better person for himself and others that includes admitting he's wrong and bettering himself. He wants everyone in his dorm to be a better version of themselves and in one of his birthday cards it stated that while in his club he learned more about what goes on behind the scenes of movies because of his club member's help.

Vil, who is an actor appreciated the help of his fellow club mates for teaching him more about what goes on behind his profession. And I can't fully go in more dept because I'm an English twst user, and unfortunately some of the dialogue is either wrongfully translated or censored because Disney can't handle the queer themes of his character despite most of their Disney villains being QUEER CODED due to the Haze code back in the day. I'm seeing that people love to bring up the 'him trying to kill Neige' situation with his overblot, and I have to admit... Mans was genuinely tweaking, not gonna lie.... But you have to understand that Vil literally spent his life perfecting his acting skills despite his villainous roles he's given. He still held his head high despite it all, only for Neige to step in and steal that role of the hero. How would it feel to spend years at something that gave you an identity, the only thing that you're good at only to be out shined by a person who never felt the struggle of requiring that talent. I'm not saying Vil had every right to do what he did, but damn I understand why he did it.

Now onto Vil lovers, like I said it a spectrum. We have the Vil lovers who like myself can see his flaws and can agree that Vil has some issues but can see that he's a good person despite it all....then we have the Vil fans who hate and demonize Neige.

I can't understand why we can't have both, you also know you can like both characters without putting down or demonizing one over the other. I think that Neige is another version of Kalim honestly and I think he's a really sweet guy, but come on... You guys are just making stuff up to excuse Vil almost killing him which again I say, we can admit Vil was fucked for that but blaming something on Neige that he didn't even know happened is crazy. It's not Neige's fault that Vil hates him but the circumstances in their lives that put them to where they are now. Neige didn't ask to be famous, hell he didn't asked to be an actor he needed the money to have a better living situation for himself and his friends.

This has now become a Vil rant and I don't care, I love this man so much.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland shitpost #twst rant #twst vil #vil schoenheit #vil shoenheit

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ghostlyferrettarot · 19 hours

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🎀Taurus Season in the

zodiac signs🎀

Hello and Happy Taurus season everyone! I'm myself a Taurus (My birthday is 5th of May) so i hope this season brings a lot of happiness and venusian energy your way!

And if you would like to support/gift me something in this birthday season, my pay services are open or you can also donate me through Ko-Fi! It trully helps a lot, Thank you so much and enjoy💕

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

💕If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!💕

💟Masterlist💟

🎀Aries: This season brings calming energy and that can be somewhat uncomfortable, but it is good to keep it in mind and deliberately transform it into a moment of rest, you are probably always on the go, so it's nice to rest a little.

🎀Taurus: This season works like an awakening, it brings very vital energy and the desire to start new things. You will be shining a lot and probably being social a lot more often. It is also an ideal time to connect with your most hedonistic/venusian side.

🎀Gemini: This season will bring a lot of resting energy, it's time to prepare for what's coming next. Time to enjoy the rewards of your efforts, indulge in hobbies and good music.

🎀Cancer: This season brings a lot of playful energy, it's time to connect with people, friends or family. Also, there's a lot of encouragement to put yourself out there and meet new people.

🎀Leo: This season may find you really busy, it's time to stay focus and keep doing what you are doing, of course with a well deserved self care. It's a good time to make those purchases that you've been wanting.

🎀Virgo: This season brings a lot of grounding energy, earthly energy. It's time to administrate and prepare all those projects that you've been having in mind for a while. A good energy to start new things.

🎀Libra: This season brings a lot of self reflecting energy. It's time to clear your mind and to stop doing those things that bothers you, to start following your own desires instead of others.

🎀Scorpio: This season brings out your most romatic side. You may be having a lot of eyes on you; maybe someone new it's coming your way with a proposal of some sort. Friends are also important, so make sure to check on them and hang out.

🎀Sagittarius: This season it's time to slow down and pay attention in the ways you are not paying attention to yourself. Nurture your body and mine, spend time in nature and get good rest.

🎀Capricorn: This season brings a lot of luck in finance. You may be working more or making more money unexpectely. Focus on your projects and make sure to not burn yourself out.

🎀Aquarius: This season is a good time to ground yourself and your surrondings. Make sure to pay attention to what you trully want, not what others make you think you do; you know yourself better than anyone else.

🎀Pisces: This season brings a lot of new experiences your way. You will feel more curious and outgoing, enjoy this time to discover new hobbies and new people. Don't be afraid of the unknown.

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lumosandnoxwriting · 3 days

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you saw the truth in me || George Weasley

Title: you saw the truth in me Pairing: George x Reader Warnings: Mentions of fighting/violence, mentions of blood. Summary: George never thought he’d be back here again, heartbroken over the only girl he’s ever loved. But once again, he only has himself and his stupidity to blame. Hockey has always been his safe place, but even that isn’t enough to heal his broken heart. A man once at the height of his life, is now on the cusp of losing it all. It’s time for the lies and fakeness to end, and George can only hope it isn’t too late. A/N: here it is, the final part of hockey!george! Thank you so much to everyone who has supported this series and left lovely comments/sent messages - it truly means so much to me that you all love hockey!George as much as I do! As always, comments/feedback are always welcome and appreciated <3 Tags: @rk-ceres

George is purely operating on auto-pilot at this point. When Y/N walked out of his life she took all of his motivation and will to do anything with her. If hockey wasn’t all he had left George surely would have been happy rotting away in bed for the foreseeable future. But without Y/N around he has to focus on something, so hockey it is.

He only gets out of bed because he has practice and training and film sessions to attend. He only gets in the shower so that he doesn’t scare away the few people he hasn’t managed to run off. Eating is purely for fuel, and something he only remembers to do when his body is on the verge of collapsing.

Before she came back into his life George thought hockey was the only love he’d ever have. Hell, he even went back home and convinced his ex-girlfriend to pretend to be engaged to him so that he could further his career. But having Y/N in his home and in his heart taught him many things, one of them being that there is more in life than just hockey. It really made George reevaluate his outlook, made him think about what happens when he retires and what he wants his life to look like.

Before Y/N he had convinced himself that he’d spend the rest of his days alone, spending time with his family and doting on his nieces and nephews between lavish vacations and golf trips. Maybe he’d coach a peewee league or two. Whatever he would do George had it in his head that he would be doing it alone.

But once Y/N reappeared in his life all of those future plans changed. He saw a house in a quiet suburb with a golden retriever in the yard. He saw Y/N in the kitchen, humming to herself as she made dinner. There were kids too, at least three, a perfect combination of the two of them that would fill their house with love and laughter.

It was a future that George didn’t just imagine - he yearned for it. And with one mistake it’s gone.

Now he’s not really sure what the point of it all is. What’s the point of being at the height of his career when there’s no one in the stands cheering him on? What’s the point of making all of this money when he has no college funds or family vacations to spend it on?

He knows everyone is worried about him, but he’s gone into pure survival mode. Ignoring everyone and everything that might make him feel something. Just like he did the last time he fucked up and lost Y/N.

George grunts as Ross slams him into the boards, his shoulder seizing up as his head bounces off the glass. He doesn’t even have the energy to hit back, he just lets him skate off with the puck.

He’s been playing like absolute shit ever since he came back from spring break, but George can’t find it in himself to care. There’s a Y/N shaped hole in his heart, and there isn’t room in his mind for anything except the pain he feels without her. Sure he’s the one who broke them up, but he was doing what he thought was best for her - not for him.

Even knowing that the Rebels will be drafting him next week isn’t enough to make him feel anything other than pain, which is ironic considering the fact that he told Y/N some bullshit about needing to focus on hockey was the reason why he was ending things. At this point George doesn’t even care if he makes it to the NHL, hell Coach could cut him tomorrow and he’d walk away from hockey forever.

Without Y/N nothing really makes sense anymore.

George is so out of it that he doesn’t even realize the game is still going on around him until Coach blows his whistle.

“All right, that's enough for today, hit the locker room boys. Weasley - my office, now!”

He takes his time leaving the ice, not wanting to face the worried looks his teammates have been sending his way for days. George is almost thankful that Coach is about to tear him a new asshole, since the locker room will probably be empty by the time he gets back there and he doesn’t have to ignore all the questions the boys are sure to have.

“What the fuck has gotten into you, Weasley?” Coach asks before George’s ass is even in the seat across from his desk.

“Just got a lot on my mind,” George mumbles, shrugging his shoulders.

Coach huffs, clearly torn between berating the boy in front of him or offering him a sympathetic shoulder. “Look, I can’t imagine the shit you’re going through, kid. But you gotta leave it in the locker room. Out on that ice the only thing that should be in your head is the game, you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I mean it, George. Fucking up out there isn’t just going to fuck things up for the team but for you as well. The Rebel’s are only offering you a provisional contract, there’s no guarantee they’ll actually call you up once you graduate. Then you’ll be stuck entering the draft as a free agent, and with the way you’ve been playing you’ll be lucky to make it onto a farm team. This is everything you’ve been working towards, Weasley and you are so fucking close, kid. Don’t let all that hard work go to waste. Hockey is the only thing you’ve got room for in your life, understand?”

George nods, and after a few moments of silence Coach dismisses him and he doesn’t hesitate to get the fuck out of there.

But Coach is right. If he can’t have Y/N at least he still has hockey, and that will have to be enough.

Which is why he’s ignored every single one of Fred’s phone calls, and has made up an excuse every time Adam or Thomas invites him out to do something. He told them Y/N had to go back home for some kind of family emergency to explain his shitty mood, and George knows the second they get him alone they’ll be able to tell something bigger is going on; and that is not a conversation George is ready to have.

They’ve got one more preseason game before Morris announces him as Captain, and George is just holding on until then. Once the announcement is made he’ll be able to get his shit back together and be the man everyone seems to think he is.

At least that’s what he keeps telling himself.

“Hey, you okay?”

Y/N flinches at the sound of Fred’s voice, and she slowly spins around to face him. He’s standing just where George did all of those weeks ago when he came to ask for her help and it makes the hole in her chest throb. Because even though George hurt her again, Y/N wishes it was him standing there checking on her, not his twin.

“Just peachy,” she lies, giving Fred her best fake grin.

Fred snorts in laughter. “I think you’ve always been so focused on George that you forget I’ve known you just as long as he has, Y/N. So cut the crap, we both know you’re not okay.”

Y/N sighs, letting her shoulders slump. Because Fred is right. She’s so far from being okay that word has lost all meaning. It’s been three days since she left Chicago, and even though she’d been desperate to get away Y/N finds herself wishing she was there, back at home with George.

She’s not really sure when Chicago became home, but the second she touched down in Washington she knew this wasn’t where she was supposed to be. Everything just feels wrong.

Her old apartment that she thought was so cozy feels like a prison cell, skating at the community center doesn’t bring her the same joy it used to - not when she knows what it’s like to skate at the arena with George by her side. Even seeing her friends leaves her with a longing to hang out with Olivia and Jenny.

It’s like George finally showed her what it really means to live her life, and now she’s just floating along with no idea how to function anymore. So she plasters on her best fake smile and does what she does best: pretend.

“Look,” Fred starts, taking a few steps forward so he’s closer. “I have no idea what happened between you and George while you guys were in Chicago and I’m not going to pretend that I fully understand the relationship you two have. But there are a few things I do know for sure. For starters I know my brother is hurting, he’s refusing my calls and if the texts I’ve gotten from his teammates are true he’s shutting himself out from the world. And the only other time he did that was after he broke up with you and he was heartbroken.”

Y/N looks away from Fred, not wanting him to see how upset it makes her knowing George is hurting too. Even though she knows he brought that upon himself, she knows she played a role in that pain too. Instead of sticking around to hear what George had to say, she shut down and ran away, just like she did all those years ago. Just like she regrets doing all those years ago.

Instead of staying and working things out together, she ran, and all that has accomplished is making them both feel like shit.

“I also know that whatever the hell happened between you two was far from fake. Because you’re both hurt for real, and some stupid lie or argument between two people pretending to be in love wouldn’t cause this kind of heartbreak,” he continues when she doesn’t say anything. “Finally, I know whatever the hell happened was just a roadblock in your story, not the end. You still love George, and you’re holding out hope that he still loves you too.”

His voice is so strong and sure, and those feelings are reflected in Fred’s gaze once Y/N gets the courage to look at him. It almost takes her breath away, how confident Fred is that her and George will work things out.

“How do you know?” she asks, unable to keep the question in. “How can you be so sure that everything is going to work out?”

The smile on Fred’s face could light the world as he gestures towards her left hand. “Because you’re still wearing the ring my brother gave you. If everything that happened was really fake, and you’re really done with him, why are you still wearing it?”

Y/N is at a loss for words, and with a final wink Fred turns on his heel and walks away. Once he’s disappeared she can’t help but look at the diamond sparkling on her finger, and even just the thought of taking it off makes her chest ache. Despite it being a painful reminder of what could have been, every time she’s tried to take it off Y/N was never quite able to go through with it. It’s the last claim George has over her, and taking it off means that they really are over.

And if George is feeling just as heartbroken as she is, maybe there still is hope for a happily ever after.

“Wow, Fred wasn’t lying. You really do look like shit.”

Y/N rolls her eyes at Angelina’s bluntness, but there’s a genuine smile on her face for the first time in days.

“Please, come in and continue to insult me when I already feel like dog shit,” Y/N responds, opening her front door wider so she can come in.

It’s been a few days since Fred confronted her at the rink, and Y/N isn’t totally surprised that Angelina is here to check up on her. She’d kind of been hoping that she would show up eventually, because Y/N has been dying to get a female perspective on the situation. If anyone is going to tell it to her straight with no regard for her feelings it’s going to be Angelina Johnson.

Perhaps the best thing to come out of her relationship with George, besides all the love and whatever, is her relationship with Angelina. Dating one half of Fred and George is taxing, to say the least, and the two girls developed a kind of kinship over complaining about all the shit their boyfriends got into.

Luckily Y/N got to keep Angelina in the breakup, because getting fake engaged to your ex boyfriend and then falling in love with him again is something only a girl who is dating a Weasley twin can understand.

“You know I already nursed you through one George Weasley breakup,” Angelina teases as she plops down onto the couch. “I’m not really sure I have it in me to do it again.”

“You came over here on your own, you realize that, right?” Y/N sits down next to her, halfheartedly hitting the other girl with a throw pillow. “You’re the one who volunteered yourself for this position.”

“Semantics,” Angelina scoffs playfully. She bites her lip, suddenly feeling a bit nervous as she clutches the pillow Y/N hit her with to her chest. “I mean it kind of is my fault that you’re in this situation, so it only makes sense that I help you come up with a plan to get out of it.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Just because Fred got this hairbrained idea for George and I to get fake engaged because you read a bunch of romance novels does not make any of this your fault. I’m the one who went and fucked up the plan by actually getting real feelings. And you certainly didn’t make George lie to me. I’m the one who got myself into this mess.”

“Still, I feel bad and Fred has been fucking moping around the apartment since George refuses to pick up his calls and I needed a good reason to get the hell out of there.”

“So you’re here for purely selfish reasons,” Y/N laughs. “I see how it is.”

“So you really fell in love with George again, huh?” Angelina questions, nudging Y/N’s knee with her own.

“Yeah, like a fucking idiot.”

Angelina huffs a laugh. “I don’t know how those boys ended up managing to get two of the hottest girls we went to school with. I swear it must be witchcraft.” That pulls another smile from Y/N, and she considers her next words carefully. “And you’re not an idiot, Y/N. If you fell back in love with George it’s because of who George is and the way he treated you. It’s not like you hated him and then woke up on a random morning madly in love again.”

Y/N shrugs, keeping her eyes focused on the rug to keep from looking at the other girl. “I don’t think I ever really hated George,” she admits quietly. “Was I pissed at him for breaking up with me? Of course, but I never hated him. I think deep down I’ve always loved him, but I refused to acknowledge those feelings to keep myself from getting hurt. That’s the only reason I agreed to this stupid thing in the first place, I told myself either this was George and I’s second chance at a future or it was the wake up call I needed to finally put that chapter of my life to rest and move on.”

“And which one was it?”

“Wake up call,” Y/N responds, her tone saying ‘duh, isn’t it obvious?’

Angelina gives her a grin that Y/N swears she’s seen on Fred’s face before. I guess it’s true that people in long term relationships start to mimic each other’s mannerisms.

“Then why haven’t you taken off the ring?”

Y/N groans, flopping back against the pillows. “You’re such a shithead, you know that? Fred asked me the same question at the rink the other day.”

“He did?” Angelina asks, even though the glint in her eyes tells Y/N that she already knew that. “You know I deserve an award for all the work I’ve put into that boy. He’s a different man than he was when we met, and it’s all thanks to me.”

“If anyone has changed during the course of your relationship it’s you,” Y/N teases. “You used to actually be tolerable and now you’re both insufferable idiots.”

Now Angelina is the one smacking Y/N with a pillow, hitting her softly a few times before they’re both dissolving into a fit of giggles.

“So answer the question,” Angelina urges once they’ve calmed down. “If you and George really are over for good why are you still wearing your engagement ring?”

Y/N sighs, holding out her left hand to examine the piece of jewelry George slid onto her fourth finger. It’s everything she’s always wanted her engagement ring to be, a true reminder of how well George knows her and his dedication to do everything he can to make her happy. It’s a reminder of all the plans they’d made as teenagers, and even though it was supposed to be fake, she’d viewed it as a promise that George would make all of those other dreams come true too.

“I guess because I don’t really want it to be over. Of course I’m pissed at George and I’m upset that he lied to me, but I want that second chance. Or maybe it’s our third chance, who the hell knows anymore. I just know that I’m not ready to say goodbye to George Weasley for good. I think he fell back in love with me too, I just don’t know how to fix this mess we’ve gotten ourselves in.”

That stupid Fred grin is back on Angelina’s face and Y/N already regrets the words that have just come out of her mouth. Fred really has rubbed off on Angelina too much, and while she doesn’t know what the plan is, the look on Angelina’s face tells Y/N that she already has one.

And she’s not really sure if that’s a good thing or not.

George had planned on ignoring it.

The knocking started over twenty minutes ago, and he figured whichever of his teammates decided to try and talk some sense into him would eventually get tired and give up. But now it’s gone from simple knocking to pounding, and as much as George doesn’t want to see anyone he does have neighbors and the last thing he needs is a noise complaint to make him feel shittier than he already does.

So he stomps to the front door, fully intent on opening it just long enough to tell whoever it is to fuck right off so he can go back to wallowing in peace. But all of that fades away, since the second he yanks the door open Olivia and Jenny are pushing their way through, forcing George to the side as they storm into his apartment.

Adam and Thomas follow their girlfriends, but they at least have the decency to look a little ashamed of their ambush. Forcing himself to get his shit together, George takes a few deep breaths before he shuts the door and follows everyone into the living room.

Olivia and Jenny have matching stern expressions on their faces, hands on their hips as they glare at George.

“Sit,” Olivia commands, gesturing towards the couch.

It’s then that George notices no one else is sitting down, in fact the four of them have formed a half circle facing the couch where Olivia just demanded he sit.

“What the fuck is this?” George questions as he does as he was told. “An intervention?”

“So you admit that you did something that requires intervention?”

George frowns and Jenny’s question, silently kicking himself for playing into their hand. He was ready to just spout out some bullshit to get them out of his apartment, but clearly they know something is going on and they don’t plan on leaving until they get it out of him.

“Maybe,” he admits, the same feelings of shame and guilt creeping in when he thinks of Y/N and what happened between them. He knows he royally fucked everything up, but he’s at a loss for what to do to try and fix things between them. Y/N was clear that she regretted not fighting for their relationship last time, and George isn’t going to let himself make the same mistake. He just doesn’t know where to go from here.

All he knows is that his plan to keep his head down and focus on hockey has been a complete and utter failure. His skating has been sloppy, his puck control has gone out the window and every time he steps on the ice he’s counting down the minutes until he can go home and crawl into his sheets that still smell like Y/N.

“Spill, now,” Olivia demands.

And so he does. Because these people are his family, and he knows they’ve come to care about Y/N too, and if he has any shred of hope for getting Y/N back he’ll take all the help he can get. Even if it means letting everyone know what an utter idiot he’s been over the last few months.

He starts all the way at the beginning, back when he let his insecurities get the better of him and he broke things off with Y/N. George tells them about the pain, and how he buried himself into hockey to ignore all of it, and his promise to never love another woman again. When he gets to the conversation he had Morris had in the off season and the scheme he cooked up with Fred George’s eyes drop to the floor, not wanting to see the things the others are feeling.

George tells them about how somewhere along the way he fell in love with Y/N for real, and his sole focus became making sure she felt the same way too. He made sure to emphasize how little he cared about being named Captain, that he would have happily been benched for the rest of his career if it meant he had the girl of his dreams by his side.

Leading them all the way up to now, how he had lied to Y/N about being named Captain so he had enough time to really be sure she’d want to make their arrangement something real. And how on the very day he planned on coming clean, his brother had accidentally spilled the beans and she discovered his lie and betrayal. He tells them all about how hurt Y/N looked that day, and how he just let her walk away.

He keeps his eyes downcast as he finishes his story, and they all just stand there in silence.

Until Adam laughing breaks through.

“You’re something else, Weasel, holy shit.”

The grunt he makes when Jenny slaps his stomach makes George finally look up, and he’s surprised and relieved to see that no one looks mad at him.

“You guys aren’t mad?”

“Oh I’m pissed that you lied to us,” Olivia starts, but there isn’t any malice in her voice. “And I’m pissed that you screwed things up with Y/N. But clearly you regret your actions and you’re hurting, so I can be pissed at you after.”

“After?”

“After we help you fix things with Y/N,” Jenny responds as if the answer is obvious. “Making you get on your knees and beg for our forgiveness is only satisfying if you don’t look like an abused puppy while you do it.”

“Gee thanks,” George huffs, rolling his eyes. But for the first time since Y/N walked out on him George feels something other than despair.

He feels hope.

The first step of her new plan involves watching the final Rebel’s preseason game, even though Y/N isn’t totally sure she’s ready to see George again. Even if it is through the TV.

But if what Fred said is true and George has isolated himself from the people around him she needs to make sure that he’s okay. That his heart is still beating and he’s still breathing. Confirmation of life, if you will.

Again, she’s got to quit watching so much Criminal Minds.

From the moment George steps out onto the ice it’s clear he isn’t himself. The one place George has always been sure of himself is the rink, but the man wearing his jersey is far from the confident man Y/N expected to see. As she watches him warm up it’s clear there’s no passion behind his movements, like he’s out there playing because he has to be and not because he wants to be.

It’s the last preseason game and they’re on their own turf, George should be flying high. But from the looks of it he’d rather be anywhere but the stadium. It makes her sick, knowing that even the sport he loves isn’t enough to bring him comfort, and Y/N wishes she could make all that pain go away.

She’s tempted to turn the TV off, she got a glimpse of him to confirm he is still in fact alive, and now can go about her evening doing just about anything else. But she can’t find it in herself to grab the remote and change the station. Despite his clear lack of enthusiasm George looks beautiful out on the ice, and she can’t look away. Y/N decides to at least watch the first period, figuring George will shake off his funk and show up for his teammates.

Unfortunately Y/N has never been more wrong in her life.

George misses passes that he should be able to capture in his sleep, and the few attempts he makes on goal are sloppy and miss the mark by a mile. Clearly his mind is elsewhere, and Y/N feels consumed with guilt, knowing that she’s the reason why George is acting this way. This was supposed to be their season, but how are the Rebel’s supposed to take it all the way with a Captain who’s barely holding it together.

Luckily the Rebels manage to keep it held together until they’re halfway through the second period. Despite George’s shitty playing they’ve scored two goals, keeping them tied with New York. And as Geore skates out for his next shift he almost looks like his old self. Each of his movements are sharp and sure, and even though the camera isn’t zoomed in on his face Y/N can tell there’s a look of determination painted on it.

She’s actually feeling hopeful that he’s managed to pull it together as George faces off against the opposing center for the puck drop. From the angle of the camera it’s apparent that New York’s center is chirping at George for the hundredth time tonight, though Y/N can’t really tell what’s being said. Luckily George is used to it, and he’s always good about ignoring the bullshit and letting their defensemen take care of it.

Except George clearly isn’t himself, because the second the Ref blows the whistle George is dropping his gloves and taking a swing at the player across from him. Y/N gasps as blood sprays from the other player’s nose, a weird mixture of shock and arousal thrumming through her veins.

New York’s center drops his own gloves then, and their fight is in full swing. George grabs onto his opponent’s jersey, yanking him closer so he can land another hit to his face. The Ref’s let them exchange some blows, but as their teammates start to get involved whistles start to blow, and Y/N is on the edge of her seat as George disappears under a pile of fighting hockey players.

It takes several moments for the Refs to pull everyone apart, but since George and New York’s center were the catalysts they are the only two who receive a penalty. He only receives five minutes, and her stomach turns as a Ref leads George to the sin bin. There’s blood dripping down the corner of his mouth, and she can’t help but notice how swollen and bloody his knuckles are as he wipes it away.

Even once his penalty is up, George doesn’t get back on the ice until the game is almost over. Luckily he’s kept his hands to himself, and that same determined glare still graces his features as he nabs the puck at the face off. The game is tied up still, and Y/N doesn’t even breathe as the Rebel’s take the puck down the ice towards New York’s goal. The clock is swiftly ticking down, and they have the opportunity to go into the regular season undefeated.

There were about a dozen different times that Y/N considered switching the game off as she watched, too nervous to keep watching the absolute shit show going on but still feeling the need to support George, even if it’s from her couch and not the stands. But as the clock ticks down and George slaps the puck into the back of the net, scoring both his first point and the game winning point, her heart swells and she’s thankful that she stuck it out.

Because instead of joining his team in celebrating, George raises his stick towards the camera pointed at him, mouthing the words she’s gotten used to seeing again.

“That was for you.”

Y/N doesn’t even realize she’s crying until the tears drip off of her chin and land on her lap. Despite having no idea that she’s watching, and playing the worst game of his career, George dedicated his goal to her.

If that wasn’t enough to prove to her that what she and George had was anything but fake, the post game interview he gives leaves no room for doubt.

“You certainly weren’t playing like yourself out there, George, care to comment on what was going on tonight?”

George grunts, and Y/N can tell that the question pisses him off. “My head just wasn’t in it, but I think New York’s center knocked it back into place,” he jokes, trying to make light of the situation.

“Does it have anything to do with the mystery woman you’ve been spotted with recently? Who is this woman who managed to capture your heart and has you dedicating all of your goals to her?” Another reporter asks once called on.

Y/N figured George is going to deflect the question just like he always does, so she’s surprised when a genuine smile takes over his scowl.

“That mystery woman would be, Y/N. She’s the woman who always pushes me to be the best version of myself, the only voice I hear in my head when I’m out on the ice. The woman that I love.”

Y/N’s breath catches in her throat at his honest answer, and her heart feels like it might beat out of her chest as George looks dead into the camera and continues.

“Baby if you’re watching, and God I really hope you are or I’m about to make a fool of myself on national television, I’m so sorry. I messed up, and I plan on spending every day of the rest of my life making it up to me if you’ll let me. I love you, please come home.”

Suddenly there isn’t a doubt in her mind: George Weasley is completely and irrevocably in love with her and Y/N isn’t going to stop until he knows that she feels the same.

George feels like he might pass out.

It’s been a little over a week since he confessed his love for Y/N on national television and he hasn’t heard a peep from her. He figures it’s because she wasn’t watching the game, because he can’t bear to think that her silence is because she doesn’t feel the same. That’s a depressive spiral he doesn’t have the time or the energy to deal with.

Instead he’s focused on the plan he, Olivia and Jenny came up with. He plans on saying the exact same thing during his post game interview tonight, win or lose, and if that doesn’t work he’ll be on a flight to Washington next week in between games to make his love declaration in person.

George may have joked last week that fighting with New York’s Center knocked his head back on right, but there was some actual truth to that statement. Because he had been playing like shit, and after the fight the only thing he could think of is how upset Y/N would be if she were watching the game. Not only was he playing like shit, but he was acting like an asshole and letting his whole team down, and that version of George he wants her to see. Olivia and Jenny had helped him get his priorities straight and figure out how he needed to start mending things with Y/N, but it was up to him to actually put that plan into place. And playing like shit and getting into fights was not the way to do that.

Y/N truly is constantly pushing George to be the best version of himself, because he wants to be the guy who deserves to be loved by someone as amazing as her. And it really is her voice in his head out there on the ice, because succeeding in his career is going to allow him to give Y/N the life she deserves. And he really does love her, more than he’s ever loved anything.

He’s done feeling sorry for himself, he knows what he wants and he’s not going to stop until he gets it.

The first part of that involved a huge apology to his team, and a promise that he’s done being a fuckhead and he’ll be on the top of his game when they skate out onto that ice tonight. It’s the first game of the season and it’s at home: a lethal combination and anything other than a crushing defeat of the other team is not an option.

Especially when Coach comes into the locker room before warmups, getting ready to make the big announcement that they’ve all been waiting for.

“Alright, settle down, settle down.” Morris’ voice booms out, causing everyone to instantly quiet. “Now after Crawford retired I know there’s been lots of whispers about who would take his place as Captain. And a lot of time and effort has gone into this decision, it’s not something anyone has taken lightly, especially the man who we’ve chosen for the job. I’ve watched this man work endlessly to be the best player out on the ice for years, and recently I’ve seen him work just as hard to be the best man off of the ice too. Which is why I’m honored to announce the next Captain of the Rebels, number thirteen, George Weasley.”

The team whoops and cheers as George makes his way over to where Morris is standing, a brand new jersey with a capital C in his hands. The guys slap his back and ruffle his hair as he goes, and he feels overwhelmed with how much the team cares and supports him. He shakes Morris’ hand before taking the jersey from him, holding it up for all of the guys to see.

“Speech! Speech! Speech!” Thomas starts chanting, with Adam joining in. Pretty soon half the team is shouting, and George waves his hand to quiet them down.

“Jesus, fuck you guys are annoying,” he teases as they start to settle down. “I just wanna start by thanking Coach and everyone who made this decision, it honestly was an honor just to even be considered. This team is my family, and I’m ready to fight alongside all of you this season to bring that Cup home. So let’s get out there on that ice and show them what it means to be a Rebel!”

The team gets rowdy again as George takes off his old jersey, slipping the new one over his gear. It’s gametime then, and as they all line up to exit the tunnel George feels more ready than he ever has. This is going to be their season, and he’ll have Y/N fighting right alongside him if he has anything to say about it.

The announcer’s booming voice echoes through the tunnel as he announces Texas’ team, and the boys start to bounce around as it gets closer and closer to being their turn out onto the ice. One by one as their names are called the guys flood out onto the ice, ramped up by the loud cheers radiating throughout the stadium.

Like usual George is last in line, and as he gets closer and closer to stepping out onto the ice he takes a deep breath, silently praying that Y/N is watching.

“And you’re starting Center and new team Captain number thirteen George Weasley!”

The screams are deafening as George steps out onto the ice, joining the team in their starting lap around the ice. He lets his eyes scan out over the crowd, just taking a moment to let everything sink in. Everything he’s worked for has been leading up to this, and he wants to commit it all to memory. The only thing that would make this night better is knowing that Y/N is there in the crowd to cheer him on too.

Which is why he has to do a double take as they make their way past home bench, because even though he’s sure about what he saw it may have just been a trick of the lights he needs to be sure. And sure enough when he looks again, three rows back sandwiched between Olivia and Jenny is Y/N, a huge grin on her face as their eyes lock.

George stops in his tracks at the sight of her, barely able to comprehend how she’s here.

“Hey Captain!” Y/N shouts, though George reads it from her lips. His mouth drops open as Y/N stands up and turns around, showing off the jersey she has on. Because embroidered above the large number thirteen on the center of her back are the words, Mrs. Weasley.

He can barely believe his eyes, and just as he’s about to throw himself over the boards to get to her Thomas is grabbing the back of his jersey, pulling him towards center ice so they can line up for the national anthem.

“Chill your shit, lover boy! You can make up with your woman later, we’ve got a game to win!”

George spares Y/N one last look before he follows behind Thomas, slipping into a state of complete and utter focus. Because with his girl in the stands, wearing their last name, winning is the only option.

George has never hated all the bullshit that comes with being a professional athlete more than he does right now. Usually he doesn’t mind all the media and the post game discussions, but knowing that Y/N is somewhere in this arena waiting for him makes George want to crawl out of his skin to get to her.

Luckily, after what feels like an eternity he’s storming out of the locker room, his dress shirt barely buttoned up and soaking wet from his hair that he didn’t take the time to dry. He doesn’t care that he probably looks like a crazed animal, all he cares about is getting to her. Which is why he doesn’t realize how familiar the voice that’s calling his name is, and he doesn’t notice the person running full speed at him is Y/N until she’s practically right there in front of him.

He barely has time to drop the hockey bag slung over his shoulder and open his arms before Y/N is barrelling into him so hard it takes all of his strength and balance to keep them upright. Her face presses into the juncture of his neck while her arms twine around it, and George immediately wraps his own around her middle. He grips her tightly as Y/N hooks her legs around his hips, letting her warmth seep into his chest.

“Baby,” he murmurs, nose pressed to her hair as he takes a deep breath in. His knees start to quiver from how good she smells, and George squeezes her even tighter. “You’re here, I can’t believe it.”

Y/N pulls away so she can look at George, the huge smile on her face reflected back at her on his. “How could I not be? Not after you asked me to come back home on national television.”

George chuckles, his cheeks flushing. “So you did see that, huh? When I didn’t hear from you afterwards I thought maybe you missed it. Or you saw it and it didn’t change anything for you.”

“I did see it, and it didn’t change anything for me.” The look that takes over George’s face makes her stomach sink, and Y/N twists her fingers in the damp hair at the back of his head. “Because I was already planning on coming back home to you, George. George Weasley I have loved you since I was six years old and you let me drag you down to the ice every time I stumbled and fell down. Even the time we spent apart did nothing to squash how much I love you. The whole reason I agreed to be your fake fiancé is because I hoped this could be our second chance at a future together. And the second I walked out of that door I wanted to turn around and run right back to you. I let you get away from me once and I’ll be damned if I make the same mistake twice.”

“Baby,” George breathes, tipping his head down so their foreheads are pressed together. “I am “so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have lied to you that night about what Coach and I talked about. I was scared that I was running out of time, and you’d be back on a plane to Washington before I could tell you the truth. I love you, Y/N, and I plan on loving you for the rest of my life.”

“I love you too.”

She squeals as George suddenly spins them in a circle, not stopping until her back is pressed against the wall and she’s pinned beneath him. George leans in, just barely letting their lips touch.

“Say it again.”

Y/N grins. “I love you, George.”

Finally George leans in and kisses her, their mouths fitting together so perfectly it’s as if they were made to match. Some of his teammates have started to filter out, but neither of them cares about the whoops and hollers that start to surround them. George’s kiss is possessive and claiming, and Y/N finds herself whining as he breaks them apart.

“We better head down to the courthouse tomorrow,” George murmurs, earning him a shocked giggle.

“And why is that?”

“Well according to that jersey you’re wearing, you’re Mrs. Weasley,” George teases, nudging their noses together. “And I’m done with all of the faking and the lies, aren’t you?”

Y/N nods, sighing in relief when George kisses her again. “Yeah, I am.”

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fan fic #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter au #gw #golden

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sarrai · 2 days

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The Watcher drama is fascinating.

I casually like their stuff. I've fallen behind on it, and feel no urgency to catch up, so I don't feel like I'll miss out by not subscribing; I can clearly live without.

And I don't think indie creators wanting their own platform is a bad thing, which ofc will need money to run. Depending on algorithms and pleasing sponsors is shitty. I truly do get that.

But their extremely corporate video really focused in on how much they need money, and boy, they really do not know their audience. It's so tone-deaf, it's honestly impressive. Saying production is too expensive when the channel has a series all about eating expensive foods is insane. No one wants more streaming services. The economy is so bad, plenty of people really cannot afford that price (international fans especially) contrary to what the video says. Their audience skews young, too, which means spending 6$ for only a couple episodes per month probably sounds unthinkable to a lot of them who can afford it, period, even if it is indie (I'm sure some think the pricing is all the more unreasonable because it IS indie.) I'm old enough that 6$ for a couple episodes I don't physically own is too much and only the indie label could change my mind--if this was framed entirely as a creative freedom decision and not about budget lol. There's just so many reasons this reads as a Bad Business Move.

But they had a countdown to this for Big News! They must have thought people would be excited! I'm just so curious to see what their response is and whether or not this risky move pans out for them.

#watcher #personal thoughts #they have such a massive audience maybe enough people will subscribe #but i doubt it #they surely will respond though and i want to see how thet choose to go about that #im not trying to shit on the Youths either #the rise of f2p games and big youtubers and such just kinda primed people for free content #or else a subscription which gives you a LOT for your money #meanwhile i remember spending 60$ for 5 episodes of an anime. but at least i would own those dvds. i hate subscriptions

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kitchenisking · 22 hours

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Day 1

Happy Passover! there will be a rec for everyday of passover so keep an eye out! Enjoy guys!😘

I could be anyone but your friend by devilscut - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 25,663, sterek)

The aftermath of the nogitsune's possession of Stiles has ended up in a very strange and almost unlikely relationship forming between Stiles and Derek Hale. After saving Stiles and regaining his alpha-hood while doing it, Stiles has come to only feel safe when around the werewolf. Sometimes when the memories and the panic attacks are too much they both need more than simple companionship or hugs. Stiles sometimes needs to let go of his control and Derek sometimes needs to take it into his keeping.

For better, for worse by Vendelin - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 13,336, sterek)

Derek and Stiles have been married for six years. Derek loves his job as a successful lawyer, loves his financial security and his large house. It isn’t until Stiles gets shot while working that he starts to understand that maybe Stiles isn’t loving their life as much as Derek is.

Keep the Demon At Bay by EvanesDust, idratherwrite - (Rating: T, Words: 7,485, sterek)

Stiles wakes up with four years of his life missing(fail). He also has a really hot boyfriend(win) and is friends with Jackson(undecided). He hasn't lost his memory for no reason, however, and the one responsible has plans.

Last Year's Predictions Didn't Come Out Quite As Expected by stilinskisparkles - (Rating: Mature, Words: 8,526, sterek)

A year ago if someone had told Stiles he'd be going to prom with Erica Reyes and that Derek Hale would be lounging on his bed watching him dither over outfits, gaze ranging from amusement to lust filled every other minute Stiles would have punched them in the face. Or maybe tossed holy water on them.

Big Days by crazyassmurdererwall (smartalli) - (Rating: T, Words: 9,692, sterek)

It’s an impulse really, inviting Derek to spend Thanksgiving with him and his dad. The Sheriff. Who once arrested him. It’ll be fine. Stiles is sure it’ll be fine.

Stay with me by Beautiful_noise - (Rating: T, Words: 2,740, sterek)

Derek gets a glimpse of the future in which Stiles has two biological daughters and that's how he knows he and Stiles are going to break up.

Baby You Got A Bright Future Behind You by werewolvesandarrows (nerdy_farm_girl) - (Rating: T, Words: 3,056, sterek)

Stiles loves going to the dentist. Loves it. He gets that it’s kind of strange, he does. Scott hates going to the dentist, hates it even more now that he and Kira have the twins and it costs like a million bucks or something every trip (or well, maybe not a million bucks but Stiles generally zones out once Scott starts to rant about money. He definitely doesn’t love talking about money). But Stiles is blessed to have a job with good dental coverage, and a visit to the dentist doesn’t usually come with a big bill. It does however come with hygienists and a dentist that are smokin’ hot.

What the Hell is a Stiles? by TheRealDanniX - (Rating: Not Rated, Words: 4,901, sterek)

A witch takes Stiles' memory while he's on the job and Derek gets stuck babysitting. Not that he really minds. In fact, it may be just what he needs.

One Door Closes by KouriArashi - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 27,794, sterek)

Derek knows that Stiles is too young for him, but Stiles doesn't agree. Eight years after Derek rejects him due to the age gap, they meet again where Derek has settled in Wyoming as a ranch hand, and Stiles is the new deputy, and still pissed as hell about the way Derek turned him down. Things don't go as either of them planned. (I'm sure a million fics have been written about older Stiles and Derek, but this one has cowboy Derek, does that help?)

This Entire Time by Itsreallyjustforresearch83- (Rating: T, Words: 1,982, sterek)

Lydia and Jackson were minding their own business when they stumbled across their Alpha and their Emissary acting very...couple-y. But when they brought it up to still-somehow-not-dead Peter, he just laughed and said it's not his place to share.

Lydia and Jackson think they discover something new and exciting, AKA the two idiots they've been watching dance around each other for the last four years FINALLY getting somewhere. Turns out, it's not that new of a thing and only Peter seemed to know about it.

#sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #fanfiction #stiles x derek #kitcheniskingficrecs

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agentperezbian · 2 days

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Anyway, what are some examples of Adam's kindness in the film? /gen

Unfortunately, because pretty much every scene of Adam outside of the bathroom (besides his kidnapping) didn't make it to the final cut of the film, I'm mainly going off of the original Saw script as well as deleted scenes from Saw 3 for my assessment of his character. Which means you can dismiss everything I say if you want, because only what makes it into the movie would be considered canon.

That being said, I like to consider the outline of Adam's character we see in the script as well as the scenes written and filmed for later movies to be indicative of Leigh's vision for the character, and not something to be tossed out just because they ended up on the cutting room floor.

The scene where Adam, who states how far he is willing to go to get money for food, gives his last bit of milk to a stray cat is a big one for me. He states that he likes how "non-judgmental" the cat is. Which I think alludes to Adam being harshly judged by those around him and maybe even avoided by others due to the way he's perceived. We learn that Adam used to want to be a vet in the script, and these two factors together seem to indicate a large love for animals and a desire to help and care for them. Adam in the script definitely shows nurturing traits.

We have the cut scene from Saw 3, a flashback of Adam and Amanda running into each other in their apartment building. Adam compliments Amanda's hair and tries to get her to open up a little. He's awkward but polite, and seems to feel bad about potentially making Amanda uncomfortable. He seems to flounder a bit but doesn't get upset even when Amanda barely says a word. He's handing out flyers for Scott's band, spending his free time giving them free promotion despite the fact that from what we learn, Scott doesn't seem to value Adam's friendship much. This, to me, is more evidence of Adam going out of his way to help others, with seemingly no reward for doing so.

Adam, to me, displays a very self-sacrificial personality. He seems to not really value himself very much. John calls him apathetic and it's very much true, but he isn't apathetic to others. He's apathetic to himself. Even when he tells Lawrence "facts" about him they all relate to things other people have done to him. I think he very much sees himself as a passive observer in his own life, which is why it's so easy for him to hide behind a camera. When he kills Zep, it's to stop him from killing Lawrence. Despite the fact that Lawrence had just shot him. Really, it would be more beneficial to let Lawrence die and continue to play dead - it would be safer, and allow Adam to attempt to escape. But he saves Lawrence anyway. In the original script John calls Adam a pawn, and i think even without him outright stating it this theme is still very much present in the film. The pawn is never meant to achieve greatness. The pawn will never be able to satisfy its own wants. The pawn can only elevate others.

#sorry for taking so long to reply to this #saw #adam stanheight #anon #ask

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kiwibeanv · 9 hours

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Cockblocked by a Ghost

Summary: Who would have known a ghost would ruin a night with Dazai. Fem! Reader.

Notes: I've been playing fatal frame 5 (so there will be references). Sudden idea. Thanks to @monoclesnapple for the editing.

Ever since you went to the mountain, the spirits followed you home. These past nights, you saw their misty specters wander your home. The random door slamming shut when you know you live alone. Soft whispers that make you look where they came from. Their appearances look awfully like the ones you repelled with your camera. The shrine maiden with gouged out eyes, the girl who cut her neck, and the lost souls that died in the mountain. The ways they died still plagued your mind, despite trying not to ponder on it. Those negative thoughts mixed in your head and nightmares became more frequent for you.

You decided to take a break from investigating the mountain for the sake of your mental health. Your café was calm and quiet which eased your mind at the familiarity of the routine. Dazai came in and took a seat at the counter near you. Ever since you met him when the ADA requested your assistance, he always came to your café first. His gaze landed on your face and he could see how pale you looked in combination with the eyebags.

"(Name)," He looked up at you with concern as he leaned over the counter. "My, my you look awful."

You rested your cheek on your hand. "I'm aware."

"Not getting enough rest? You know investigating at night does take a toll," He brought his hand near your arm where you held your face up. His index finger landed on your wrist and he let it glide down to your elbow. He made circular motions on that spot. He studied your expression and he noticed your eyes didn't make direct contact with his.

"Something bothering you?" Dazai asked.

"No it's nothing," You shook your head.

"Really? You didn't look like this before investigating," he pointed out. You let your gaze connect with his. This man is too good at reading people. A sigh escaped your lips.

"It's just all these visions from the spirits," you began. "The causes of their death. The pain they felt before their last breath. But that's not the worst part. They followed me home and it's hard to sleep at night. You know that they are more active at that time."

Dazai nods and took his hand from your arm. He brought it to his face to think.

"Don't you have another place to stay? Or did you try a hotel?" He asked.

You shook your head. "I don't. Nor do I want to spend my money at the hotel."

"Then why don't you stay at my place?" He offered with a grin. "It's free from spirits. You might get a better night of rest."

"Are you sure?" You asked. You didn't really want to make an inconvenience for him. "And if those spirits follow me?"

"Oh relax," he waved his hand off. "I think your ghosts are comfortable here. What ghost doesn't like the aroma of coffee and tea with an elegant home of yours connected to it?"

"Well I really don't want to burden you if that comes to it," you warn as you lifted your head from your hand.

"It's no burden for me!" He assured, placing his hand on his chest. "Besides, I get to have a lovely, gifted woman at my home who can fight spirits."

He takes your hands and his eyes glimmered at you. "My home is absolutely safe and sound~ And you are welcome to stay more nights if you need."

"Uh…" His offer sounded appealing to you. A break from your haunted home to finally get a good night. If the spirits stayed at your home, you don't have to worry about those lingering memories. "Sure. I will take your offer," you replied.

Dazai's lips curled upwards as if proud. After that agreement, you went to pack your things. All the things you need to stay for several nights, while he went back to prepare a space for you.

For a few nights, you were getting accustomed to the arrangements. He allowed you to take the bed while he took the couch. You didn't have vivid nightmares anymore. You finally had a moment of peace. After you settled down, Dazai started getting touchy. You had an idea of his tendencies with women due to Chuuya letting you know one time during your investigation in finding the two ladies. Little does Dazai know, Chuuya gave his number to you first. Chuuya offered it in case you ever had questions about Dazai or, if he hurt you, he could hunt him down and give him a piece of his mind.

However, you felt a mutual connection with Dazai. His touches didn't bother you, his compliments made you feel better about yourself, and there was something attracting you to Dazai like a hummingbird to nectar. Slowly you started to reciprocate his gestures to hint your liking towards him.

On this night, this time you asked if Dazai would like to share the bed with you.

"Yes! I would love to accompany you!" He answered with excitement. You lead him to the dark room, not even bothering to turn on the lights. It was night time anyways so sleep will be inevitable. His hand held yours as you pulled him to bed. Dazai slipped under the covers with you. He felt so close to you. His hand squeezed yours and you reciprocated.

You both faced each other in this quiet moment. Your eyes never leaving his, almost trying to look at his soul. He scooted a little closer to you. Though he didn't want to invade your space. But, you wanted something to happen.

You cupped his cheek with you hand and leaned in to connect your lips with his. His heart raced at your move and he kissed you intensely. You adjust your positions so the two of you found a comfortable position for the kissing. Lips demanded more contact. Tongues danced in passion. A yearning for touch of skin. His hand went under the hem to feel your side. The heat was rising between the two of you. But just before he could move his hand up, a faint knock on the door was heard. Both of you stopped for the moment. Dazai got up to check the door. What puzzled him was that he thought he heard the knock on the bedroom door, not the front. Still, he went to check if there was a visitor. There was no one.

"Huh, could have been a kid," he sighed and went back to you. "Now, lets get that pretty little clothes off you. Will you~?" He smirked. The makeout session resumed with the addition of slowly getting the outer layers off. It felt too hot anyways. Dazai was taking it slow for you. The build up was too fun to let go. He got on top of you and met your lips again.

When your lips parted from his, you saw a faint white mist in the corner of your eye. It disappeared when you centered your gaze at it. Dazai raised his brow, concerned if you were hesitating now. "Everything okay? We don't have to continue if you don't want to," he asked.

"No, I just thought I saw something," you shook your head, placing your attention back on him. Before either of you could do anything, you had a feeling of being watched.

"You have all windows and doors closed and covered, right?" You asked.

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow. Dazai didn't like vague hints for moments like this. He wanted your full consent. "Yes? If you're trying to make excuses, don't bother. Just say you don't want-" A loud bang interrupted him.

This made him got off you to get on guard. As for you, you had a feeling that a spirit must have found its way here. The signs were all there. Mysterious sounds, the odd white thing, and the feeling of being monitored.

He crept to the door which was only opened slightly. He tried to see through the crack but he met eyes wide as saucers. He flinched back but the face disappeared.

"So uh… about your ghost problem…"

You let out a disappointed sigh. "I did warn you about this possibility."

"Oh yeah…" Dazai looked away. "So will it attack us in our sleep?"

"Maybe yes, maybe no. Though, I did bring my camera in case it does," you replied.

"Right… let's get whatever sleep we can get."

Dazai joined you in bed again but this time, he kept his hands mostly to himself. The only thing he did was wrap his arms around you. There was just too many cockblocks to kill the mood. It was awkward to sleep in the same bed with arousal running in both your veins, but you didn't want any more disturbances or audiences. The spirit was relatively active. A few bumps in the night, some chilling whispers, but nothing more.

The next day, Dazai was in a dejected mood after the events of the night prior. He still goofed around, but when he was sitting still, his vibe wasn't necessarily joyful or anything usual.

Eventually, Chuuya found out about what occurred, and he was just cackling at the thought. He came up to you and took a deep breath to compose himself.

"Listen- I can get you a good exorcist," he lets out a chuckle before calming down. "Whoever you want, I'll get, or I can just get a random priest to handle it. If ya don't wanna go back home yet, I can offer my place so you don't have to go to Dazai. It's so much better than that stinky mackerel's and I got better food."

He leans in close to you and mutters with a smirk on his face, "Besides, dogs are more fun to be with than fish."

#bungo stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #osamu dazai #osamu dazai x you #dazai x you #dazai x fem reader #osamu dazai x reader

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