#let alone what it is suggesting and its implications

[3-aem]

im bored of animal crossing will be drawing gj again will be mental illness-ing once more.

#women make less than men because we dont know how to ask for more!!!!! #and thats so fucking true my ex manager had to coach me how to ask for more #and then i entered the call and went oh u want to give me less than what i asked for great okay sure love you bye #!!!!!!!!! *looking at myself in the mirror* i hate u #the noise my cat makes when hes frustrated #or really really excited i cant tell which is which anymore #my ex manager is also like lawyer core #ie not a lawyer but loves reading contracts for some uknown reason #and he was pointing out all the stupid phrasing #and i was sitting there like sir to be completely candid i do not even comprehend what the line is saying #let alone what it is suggesting and its implications #apparently when you get those emails like this is confidential dont share it!!! #u can u can like totally share it its not enforceable #the sender even knows its not enforceable they just put it there anyway #what are you gonna do with that info heck if i know!

[hobie-enthusiast]

— cw; making out, suggestive themes, implications of death

thinking about hobie brown who would impulsively get a new matching piercing with you after a night out in the city. he brings you to a friend of his who does his piercings, someone he trusts. he tells them to do whatever they want, as long as the two of you match. he offers his hand to you to squeeze when you’re being pierced, and after, he’s absolutely obsessed with how you both look.

thinking about hobie brown who’s protective of the things he loves, especially you. He doesn’t trust many people, especially those he doesn’t know. it's little gestures, like pulling you close to him by the arm or waist or walking on the side on the street the road is. he couldn't imagine something happening to you, he has a strong urge to always keep you safe. that's probably why spider-man always happens to show up when you get into some trouble alone.

thinking about hobie brown who drops several hints he’s spider-man. he doesn’t like lying to you, and even though he isn’t, it feels like he is. so he waits for you to ask or put the pieces together. if you never do, he doesn’t outright tell you. he would never want you to think he’s doing it to impress you or be famous. not that you would think that. but if you do, he’s honest and even offers to let you be his partner-in-crime, its perfect.

thinking about hobie brown who always wants to hear about your interests. even if it’s something he doesn’t know or understand the excitement over. he wants to hear every detail you know. he wants to know and understand where your excitement comes from and what you love about it. he will just sit there with such a love struck grin, eyes never leaving you or your lips moving so passionately.

thinking about hobie brown who lives for post-show make out sessions. after his band plays he always takes you to the back of the venue, holding you close to him as he kisses you like there's no tomorrow. he's addicted to you; the way your hot bodies press together, the way your lips feel on his, the way he can make you unravel from his hands settling on your waist. it's like a drug he's never going to get enough of, especially when his leg slots so perfectly between your thighs to rile you up. after he's always a panting mess, eyes lidded as he laughs, yet the laugh is a low chuckle from the way you practically drag him home.

thinking about hobie brown who would not hesitate to interrupt a canon event to save your life. whether it's in his dimension or some other variation of his, he doesn't care. the second he notices your life in danger, he's saving you. he can handle a heavy and hard scolding from miguel. hell he can ever handle being kicked from the spider-society for good. but nothing comes above saving your life, and he is a firm believer in that.

thinking about hobie brown who is obsessed with the way you play with his hair. his favourite way to fall asleep is in your lap, your hands tangled in his wicks, treating them and him like the most precious thing in the world. it's like some sort of spell you put on him, and he will never get enough of it. you start scratching his scalp or weaving your fingers through his hair? he's asleep in minutes. he's very protective of his hair and who can touch it, so letting someone he loves see him so vulnerable is always enough to relax him and coax him into getting proper sleep.

truly just thinking about hobie brown.

#SHORT STORY || OUT NOW !! #hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #hobie brown #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #atsv x reader #atsv #atsv hobie

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

RUNAWAY FROM ME - EXCERPT

Pairing - Tommy Shelby x oc

Summary - Deirdre ran from her life of misery for her own safety. However, she managed to run back into the arms of an angel she once knew, now known as The Peaky Blinder Devil. In which he has no intentions of letting her run away from him again.

Warnings - Dark content, noncon, dubcon, explicit themes, lovers to enemies to lovers, slow burn kinda, Tommy needs a hug.

Word Count - 1.6k

Notes - The little teaser for the Tommy story I wanna write. Please let me know what you think, it would be highly appreciated.

The band came to a sudden stop, the audience’s heads turned towards the three men that strode through the dining. All three of them wore peaked caps with large overcoats as they walked tall. They approached the stage and Deirdre couldn’t help but to feel her heart thud harder in her chest as this suspicious tingle crawled over her skin with her light brown eyes glued onto the men that felt too familiar. Deirdre’s heart froze when the man in front came to clear sight as he took off his cap, revealing his harsh undercut styled brunette hair.  

Thomas Shelby. 

Her face went numb when his pale hands wrapped around the microphone, ears clogged as his words fell deaf yet she remembered the sound of his deep, captivating voice perfectly. The two other men, which she quickly recognised to be his brothers, Arthur and John, stood with their chests puffed out, arms locked across shoulders and stern expressions. 

Deirdre’s heart pounded in her chest like a wild animal desperate to escape its cage. Even though her head was frozen in line to his speech, her eyes were darting around, already planning her escape. The room was full, surely his blue eyes would not be able to point her out in the depths of the occupied round tables. Let alone recognise her after all of these years. 

How could she have been so foolish? The massive city of London had never felt smaller than tonight. She had heard his name many times and every time it felt like a stab in the heart. He had made a name for himself, built an empire in that fire and brimstone city. Just like he always said he would. Her father and dear husband already hated him, gypsy bastard. Every day she prayed for their obliviousness to her heavy past with him.

It felt like her soul was pulled out of her body when his blue eyes landed on her. His mouth fell ajar open as his long lashes batted, head gently tilting to the left as he acknowledged her, remembering her thoroughly. The brothers noticed his pause and looked towards her as well, she couldn’t help but to cower slightly. The rest of the room was oblivious to the stare off between him and her. 

“And now, shall we dance?” He suggested it in a slow and challenging manner. One hand snapped to que towards the band and the other gestured towards his brothers.  

The sounds of jazz roared against the walls as everyone abruptly stood up. A deer caught in headlights, that’s how Deirdre felt at first. As she watched him walk down the stage, his eyes still on her. The brothers were already out of her sight. 

She snapped back to reality when Jack’s fingers traced over her bare shoulder. Deidre gulped hard as she quickly stood up, nervously brushing through her dark loose brunette hair. 

“Sorry, I, I suddenly don't feel too well” Deirdre admitted, which was actually a lie, but the implication went in the opposite direction. 

“Nonsense! I haven’t even gotten a single dance with you yet” Jack acclaimed with a charming smirk, his arm wrapped around her shoulder. 

Her eyes shot towards the stage, he’s gone. 

“I’m so sorry, I really must go” Deidre quickly spoke, her voice trembling as she yanked herself out of his grasp. 

She heard him rebut, however she was already heading straight towards the large doors as she zigzagged through the crowd. Unfortunately, her poorly planned escape route had quickly soiled, she spotted Arthur and John standing on opposite sides of the exit. They were always loyal pawns in his game. There was a pause in her movements as her eyes shot around, her body covered in pins and needles. 

She’d escape through the workers quarters. But as she turned in a hasty measure, her small body smacked into another. The arms that she had felt years before wrapped around her possessively as he steadied her stance. There was no doubt who it was, no hope for it to be another. 

“My dearest Deirdre, my eyes will never fail to spot your beauty no matter how you age. May I have this dance?” Tommy asked with a stern expression but soft voice, head tilted down towards her as she kept her eyes on the floor. 

The coat he wore was gone, and she could easily feel his muscular frame hidden underneath the button up shirt, not to mention the pistol in his holster. His cold hand lifted her chin and their eyes locked. As she blinked slowly, her eyes glistering, she bit on her tongue. Tommy waited patiently for her next move. 

Show no fear. 

“If I knew that the Eden Club was in your possession I would have steered clear. We can pretend that you never saw me” Deidre negotiated confidently but her front failed when her body shook against his. 

Tommy laughed loudly as his arm around her waist tightened in a proprietorial manner. 

“Unfortunately we have unfinished business, you and I” Tommy replied coldly. 

“Please, surely you haven't held onto those emotions for all of these years” Deirdre chuckled presumptuously as she tried to push their bodies apart without gaining attention.   

Tommy grunted at her words and dragged her to the dance floor, his fingers dug into her upper arms. Surely he wouldn’t make a scene here. But then she’s heard many tales of him, the beast that he had become when he returned from the war.

“You’re in a considerable debt with me, my love. One that you thought would fade if you merely ran” Tommy growled. 

“I can get you your money” she winced at the sharp pain, not like it would even mean anything to him with how much his businesses bring in these days. When they passed through the crowded floor, she realized that he was leading her out of the lounge. 

“If you think your debt is based around money, are you still that naive girl from all of those years ago, eh?” Tommy smirked as he kicked open the double doors which led them into the kitchen. 

It was now or never. Deirdre shoved him away with full force and scrambled through the busy kitchen as she nearly fell over in her heels as she broke free. All eyes were on them but no one dared to move a finger in the wrong direction. As she roughly pushed past everyone, she tried to remain calm. 

Tommy grinned at the girl who loved to run. This night had taken an unexpected turn indeed for the both of them, her heart was pounding immensely as she panted in her heels. The first door she took led her to a hallway, the open exit to the streets on her right was blocked by two working men. Cigarettes in their lips as they watched her intimately, she bolted to the left. 

The next door she took, she didn’t consider analyzing, she locked herself in the small dark room which appeared to be an office. The moonlight shined through the sash window which she yanked up and looked down to the small drop, survivable but not without two broken heels. As Deidre laid her hands on the windowsill, her head snapped back as she heard the door unlock from the other side. There was no other option besides hiding. Deirdre found herself hidden underneath the wooden Lombardo desk. It was human instinct to cower, pray that she’d be able to run from her past demons.

The weighty door creaked open, and she heard his heavy footsteps on the carpet. Tommy pulled out a cigarette, the end of the stick brushed in between his lips as he lit it. “Oh Deirdre, my dearest” Tommy spoke loudly, his tone dripping of sarcasm, which made her stomach feel like a bottomless pit. He slammed the door shut behind him. “Why do you run? Why do you hide? From me of all people? You seemed to have forgotten the vows you swore your life on. The promises which are still owed to me. You ignorantly believed that fate would keep us apart? Oh but haven’t you heard the tales of the Peaky Blinder Devil?” Tommy spoke, his footsteps slowly approached her. 

The thuds in her chest were painful, her throat felt like the cold air around her was strangling her. He could hear her heavy breathing and chuckled silently. The Colt M1911 is pulled from his holster and he ensured that she heard the safety click off. 

“Once upon a time there was a boy. Who foolishly fell for a girl with a secretive past. They created a life as one. He protected her from the pure evils in this cruel world and how did she repay him? She robbed him blind. She ran from the boy that she loved and turned his soul black. She created the Devil of Birmingham. And tonight, the runaway has tripped over her bad deeds” Tommy teased as he leisurely approached her. 

With a turn of the corner of the desk, Tommy raised his pistol and pointed it at her forehead. Deirdre looked up to him with doe eyes and gulped down her nerves. “And now, you will repay your debts” Tommy ordered with a gentle nod. 

“I will do no such thing” she refused, her words sizzling in anger. 

Tommy knelt down to her level, his pistol pressed against her temple. Deirdre breathed out but didn’t fear, she’s been pushed and shoved too many times before to know when there was an actual threat on her life. 

“Yes you will. Because you’re still my property, my dear wife” Tommy smirked.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #smut #dark smut #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky fookin blinders

[kissingghouls]

Question Marks (Mary Goore x Reader)

Summary: A night out with Mary has you wondering some things, but Mary presents you with an offer you can't turn down. (3200 words)

(continuing from: Part One - Winter Chill, Part Two - The Date, but can be read on its own. choose your own adventure 💜)

Tags: Fluff, Kissing, the return of the feral cats, marshmallows, blanket forts, he/they Mary

The bar is loud and completely overflowing with people. They spill out in all directions—some to the street, some to the patio, and some are taking refuge nearby, crowding the tiny hallway by the stage. You’re hardly surprised by the sight—there wasn’t much to do in this town and even fewer places to do it in. But you can’t hear your own thoughts, let alone what anyone else is saying and your back hurts from standing so long. The clock keeps ticking later and later while other people get to demand your date’s attention.

At least, you think this is a date. You’re not quite sure and neither of you said it out loud, but the way Mary’s barely left your side all night seems to at least imply that it is. And that’s where it starts to get complicated in your head. Is this your third date? Or just the second? Does making out by the river even count as a date? And if it wasn’t a date then what the hell was it?

It doesn’t really matter, but you know people will start asking soon. They’ll all start trying to make the two of you define whatever this is with strict labels and someone else’s rules. All you really want is for this thing to keep going. Everything is easy with Mary, at least when no one else is involved, and you like that. You like that you haven’t had to think about things or second guess your every move while worrying if he even likes you. You’re not sure Mary could even pretend not to like you.

Some guy, Chris or something, has been occupying Mary’s time for a good five minutes. It’s all band guy talk you don’t have the energy to follow, a conversation you’d barely have anything to contribute to even if you weren’t so fucking tired. Mary squeezes your hand as he talks and you’re not quite sure if it’s a silent apology or a cry for help. You really don’t mind that they’ve been the life of the party the entire night, but having Mary to yourself and making out in a dark corner is slightly more appealing than anything anyone else could possibly want to talk about. 

He leaves you with a soft touch and a cheeky grin, a sure sign that they’ll be right back. You don’t need the reassurance, but sometimes Mary’s just so unpredictably sweet and you’re not going to do a damn thing to discourage that. You watch them for a moment, smiling to yourself as they move through the alley behind the bar. Outside it’s all obscenities and playful insults exchanged between various groups, borrowed lighters and “did you hear that album?” There’s a shuffle underneath, a running current moving like ants on a hill as various dudes squeeze bodies and gear between a tank of a van and a door that’s more rust than anything.

You lean against the wall doing your best to keep out of the way. Your head rests against old flyers and graffiti as you let your attention drift from a certain metalhead to nothing at all. The bar smells of smoke and cheap beer, both scents reaching from different directions to converge directly under your nose. It should probably be gross, but it’s mostly just familiar in a comforting way. A sense memory of nights exactly like this. Nights with Mary.

Your eyes find them again, slowly tracing the silhouette of their frame in the alley. The cigarette between their lips wavers slightly as they smile at you, the bright orange ember bobbing up and down. It’s ridiculous the way fondness washes over you. Mary’s not even doing anything and you’re fucking swooning.

You’re aware of all of it, aware of the implications and possible declarations your presence presents. The simple act of standing where you are is enough to suggest something is going on between the two of you. Something that is made even more obvious with each touch or grin Mary gives you. There’s a feeling in your stomach, the proverbial butterflies have been replaced by what feels like drunk bees. It only intensifies when Mary lands in front of you, unable to stay away any longer. Smoke and cold hang around their jacket, another sensation that is decidedly Mary Goore. But the way they lean over you with one hand on the wall and the other tilting your face up to match the angle makes your brain stop completely. Their lips are cold, but the kiss is so heated you find yourself gripping their jacket and holding on for dear life. It’s tongues and teeth, messy with the sweetness of the cherry cola the two of you split earlier. Kissing Mary is like a sugar rush, a burst of all those feel-good chemicals flooding your body.

This wasn’t part of the plan of course. You and Mary were still figuring things out, trying to really get to know each other rather than relying on secondhand information and crazy rumors you’d heard over the years. But the trouble with taking things slow was that sometimes when you were meant to be doing other things you still found yourself focused solely on Mary.

The look his gives you as he pulls away suggests he’s struggling with something similar. It’s not curiosity or even attraction really—it’s more like desire disguised as hunger. A predator and prey. The amount of fake blood smeared all over their face easily gives away who is who. You’re so hopelessly caught in their web that the cocky smile he shoots your way is both too much and not enough, but god how you don’t want them to let you escape.

Mary knows they’ve got you right where they want you. Knows they’ve figured out how to make your knees weak, how to weaponize their body against yours. It’s a challenge you’re all too happy to accept even if technically you’re supposed to be moving at a glacial pace. But Mary just shakes his head and grins as he shrugs out of his jacket and carefully transfers his prized possession to your shoulders.

“You ok, sweetheart?” they ask and reach up to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I’m good,” you reply with a nod. “Just tired.”

“Aw I’m sorry, darlin’. I didn’t mean to keep you out so late.”

“No, it’s fine,” you insist. “I’m having fun. It’s just been a long night.”

“You want me to take you home?”

“There is no way in hell I’m letting you drive my car, Goore.”

“Worth a shot,” they reply with a laugh. “What if…you crash at my place? We can have a little sleepover? I’ll build you a blanket fort.”

“Hmm…will there be popcorn?”

He laughs again. “Darlin’, I will get you whatever your little heart desires.” 

“In that case, I desire snacks and this blanket fort. Maybe a little more making out.”

“I think I can do that.”

“You’ve got a deal, Goore.”

He grins and takes your hand, quickly pulling you through a cluster of your friends and his, ignoring anyone who calls out your names. The gossips in this town will have the two of you married by morning, but you couldn’t care less when Mary looks at you the way he does.

It’s a quick stop to pick up way too much junk food, but they refuse to let you pay for any of it. The girl behind the counter is visibly annoyed by the two of you play fighting over the cost of candy, heaving an angry sigh as you swipe Mary’s wallet and take off down the aisle. They catch up to you somewhere near the beer cooler and maybe you let them have this little victory. You’re too content in their arms to try to get away again anyway.

He keeps his arms around you all the way up to his front door, tucking them into the jacket you’re both somehow trying to wear at the same time. You can’t help but laugh as he buries his face in your neck and asks you to unlock the door. It takes half a second to their neighbor to appear and scowl at the two of you before slamming their door to prove a point.

“Gonna get me in trouble, darlin,” Mary groans, but it’s obvious he doesn’t mind at all.

“Better be quiet then.”

He growls low in your ear, holding you a little tighter as he urges you toward the door. It’s warm inside the apartment this time, not that you would complain about sharing a blanket with Mary. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t kind of hoping it would happen again. You doubt they’d turn down the offer.

They reluctantly pull away and excuse themselves, darting through the kitchen to check on the cats outside. As soon as they hear him coming a chorus of desperate meows starts at the back door, a little more pitiful each time. He laughs and greets them, temporarily quieting their tiny screams with replenished bowls of food.

They’re three steps away, but somehow it’s still too far. While they’re carefully patting one of the cats between the ears, you reach over and run your hand through their hair. Mary almost moans, bending backward to look up at you as your nails graze their scalp. Their eyes close as you give their hair a little tug and bend down to kiss them and this time Mary definitely moans.

With Scratch and Sniff fed, Mary’s attention centers back on you. He pulls you down to capture you in a kiss—innocent at first, but neither of you are interested in breaking away so the only thing left to do is escalate until you’re both a little breathless. They grin as you finally separate, kiss-swollen lips now a darker shade of pink and you wonder if you’re wearing the remnants of their black lipstick on your own mouth. As if to answer your question, they reach up and swipe their thumb across your bottom lip. 

“We should go back inside,” he suggests softly.

You nod lazily and let him pull you to your feet, happy to follow him anywhere at this point.

“You wanna borrow something to wear, sleepy darlin’?” he asks as he heads toward his room with your hand in his.

It wasn’t necessary for you to change into Mary’s clothes. Your own t-shirt would have been just fine to sleep in, but once the offer was made how could you do anything but accept? He searches his dresser for something acceptable, looking almost nervous as he hands you a shirt and some boxers.

“They’re clean, don’t worry,” they tease, trying to dodge as you swat at them with their clothes. “The bathroom’s through—”

“I remember.”

“Right. Yeah. Cool.”

It’s an odd tone and you can see the gears turning in their brain, a wave anxiety suddenly working overtime. It’s a side of Mary you haven’t seen before, all that cool confidence stripped away. You’re not sure what’s causing the sudden doubts, but you cup his face and press your lips to his to offer as much comfort as you can without making them explain. They lean into you, body practically melting against yours as they relax completely under your reassurance.

“I’ll be right back,” you add with a grin that rivals theirs.

“Wait,” they say and pull you back in for another quick kiss. “Ok, I’m good now.”

“Try not to miss me too much.”

“Ah, in that case, come back for a second. Maybe two seconds.”

You shake your head, rolling your eyes as you head for the bathroom. Maybe it’s supposed to be weird. Maybe it is weird for Mary, but you try not to think too much about it as you change clothes. You take a moment to admire the softness of the shirt, tracing a hand over the once-black-now-grey cotton and the cracked letters of a logo.  You’d seen Mary in this shirt a hundred times at least. It was clearly one of their favorites and if you were honest, you didn’t hate the way it looked on him. But now those cut off sleeves are on your shoulders and the thing smells like him in the most wonderful way. You like it so much that the thought makes you blush hard, cheeks flaring red-hot until you’re stuck gripping the bathroom counter to calm down.

Once it finally ebbs, you slide back into the bedroom and find them hard at work. The look of determination on their face is so cute you want to cry, but you settle for leaning against the doorframe and watching them create a masterpiece. In the few minutes you’ve been gone they’ve managed to pull together what must be every blanket they’ve ever owned. The bed is almost entirely buried under a mountain of varying colors and textures with all your collective snacks stacked neatly on top. There’s a good three feet of stuff piled up with no real indication on where he intends either of you to sleep. If he’s done this much, he probably has a plan and you’re hardly going to be upset if you’re Mary’s little spoon.

You just can’t believe he was serious about the blanket fort.

He stops as soon as he spots you standing there, jaw hanging open at the sight of you in his shirt. “Fuck,” he breathes before scrambling around the bed to get to you. “Look at you.”

“See something you like, Goore?”

“You have no fucking idea, darlin’. Looks fucking good on you. Fuck.”

“I think you said that already.”

They nod slowly, eyes still tracing over the lines of you. “Yeah, I’m uh, I’m gonna need a minute to wrap my head around this. Might need you to pinch me.”

You shrug and reach out, pinching one of their nipples between your fingers just enough to make him squeal.

“My tits!” Mary howls, cupping their chest dramatically as they dodge your next attempt. “This kind of behavior is prohibited at Fort Goore!”

“Fort Goore?” you ask with a laugh, and he beams so proudly at you that your heart actually hurts from the cuteness of it all.

“This is my opus,” they explain excitedly, gesturing to the mass of soft behind them. “Most comfortable place on the planet. It’s my best work, really.”

“You’re real serious about sleepovers, huh?”

“Well, yeah.” They reply with a shrug. “Kinda want you to stay.”

You can’t help but smile, shaking your head as your face gets warm. “It does look it’s pretty comfortable in there.”

“It’s the pinnacle of comfort, sweetheart. You won’t find anything cozier than Fort Goore.” They lead you toward the little hideout and pull a blanket aside to reveal the inside. “Go on. Check it out.”

You crawl under the tented blankets and follow their shadow as they run around adding a few finishing touches to their castle. As far as you’re concerned it’s already a modern architectural marvel. A system of tacks, pushpins, an entire spool of twine, a chair and a precariously leaning guitar case holds the ceiling up, suspended over the top of Mary’s TV. The interior is a nest of blankets and more pillows than can reasonably fit on the bed, but they’ve built a retaining wall from the sofa cushions to contain them. The whole thing is cute and silly and the amount of thought they’ve put into the construction is nothing short of impressive. You wonder if maybe this was how Mary spent their childhood, creating their own elaborate little worlds out of whatever was available. It wouldn’t surprise you to learn that this wasn’t the first fort—you doubted it would be the last—but this one…this one Mary built for you. It’s the kind of thought that has your chest feeling tight like it so often does near Mary Goore.

A minute later he turns out the light and climbs into the fort beside you. He shoots you another one of those trademark Mary grins, all crooked and toothy in the dim light from the tv. He looks so adorably happy as he tears into the first packet of candy that you can’t look away. He pats around until he finds the remote and hits play on some old black and white monster movie.

“You were so right about snacks. How’d you get so good at this date thing?”

“Ah, so this is a date,” you tease with a grin of your own.

“Wait, is it not?”

“I don’t know. You could be casually building blanket forts for everyone in town.”

“Are you kidding? That would take way too much time. Plus, there aren’t that many people in town I like enough to share a fort with. This is all for you, darlin’.”

“You’re a marshmallow, Goore.”

“Yeah, I might be. Just don’t tell anyone, ok? It’ll ruin my reputation.”

“Cross my heart,” you promise and draw an X over your chest. “But, for the record, I like marshmallows.”

“C’mere,” he says with a grin and pulls you close enough to drop a kiss on the top of your head. “I like you too, darlin’.”

“Yeah, you’re kinda terrible at hiding it.”

“Sorry, you just make it so damn easy to like you.”

“Stop,” you whine and hide your face against their shoulder.

“Not a chance, sweetheart.”

“Mary?”

“Hmm?” he hums in response.

“Kiss me.”

“Happily.”

He claims your mouth with his—a sweet, gentile kiss until he gets his hands in your hair. Your lips part and the two of you are sinking down into the bed as your tongues and legs tangle together. It’s a little hurried, a little clumsy, all wandering hands and the softest sounds while the pile of snacks and pillows inevitably ends up on the floor. You’re too warm—dizzy and a little drunk on Mary Goore, but you don’t want to let them go. You don’t want to stop; don’t want to think about anything other than the way he bites your lip and that self-satisfied chuckle rumbling in his throat when you gasp into his mouth.

Neither of you hear the front door slam. It’s the “what the fuck, Mare?” screamed from the other room that finally breaks you apart. Seconds later someone you assume is Mary’s roommate is pounding on the door shrieking about the missing blankets and the state of the sofa. You slap both hands over your mouth to keep from laughing while Mary rolls their eyes and makes faces as their roommate continues to yell.

“Ooh, I think you’re in trouble, Goore,” you tease in a whisper.

“Ugh. That prick has ruined two of our dates now,” he groans, shaking his head.

“I don’t think either of them were ruined, but…” You trail off and bite your lip. “Maybe next time we can go to my place?”

“Next time, huh?” he repeats with a grin. “You got a little crush on me, darlin’?”

“Yeah, I might,” you admit. “Can’t help it. You just make it so damn easy to like you.”

Mary shakes his head and pulls you closer, letting his eyes close as he holds you. It doesn’t take long for either of you to fall asleep after that, curled up together under a canopy of his roommate’s stolen bedsheets.

-x-

thank you all so much for reading and commenting on the last two parts. 💜 should I do a tag list for these?

more stuff by me // what does Mary Goore smell like? // ko-fi tip jar

#my fics #my writing #more Goore '24 #mary goore #mary goore fanfiction #mary goore fic #mary goore x reader #x reader #reader insert #repugnant fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction

[regular-gnome]

Through many AUs I've been through, yours are the one I like the most, because it's a more realistic one.

I can see that the "cruelty" of other Collectors are not like that they are evil.

For a being that is older than universe, they are like the Gardeners of Stars, as a gardener you have to cut it out what is dead, you have to treat the soil, prepare it for a new tree, now with planets it's kind the same, they visit, they watch, and so they decide if some species is worth to keep and if they are not worth for keeping.

And so, this process of leaving a juvenile collector in a planet till the dominant species dies is kinda a hardening process, in order for them to grow mature and to not let feelings intervene in the decision process, like being a doctor, you must put aside the fear of hurting the patient in order to heal the patient.

But in TOH things got different, they found a species that represented danger to themselves, so they used another species to kill the titans and the little collector paid the piper.

Im very glad you enjoy the AU:D

The concept is rooted in the idea that generally, people or characters don't choose evil simply for the sake of being evil. But nobody is omnicent, they react to whats happening, trying to figure out what might be "best" as they go without really a way to know for sure if its a right call. Having power to destroy a planet with swipe of finger rises the stakes for literally everyone. When the Collector was releashed during King's Tide the game changed. If Belos had managed to control them - nobody would have been able to challenge him. Even Odalia tried to suggest totally reshaping the isles. Seeing anyone as mostly/ only dangerous power sources creates power imbalance, something that can evolve into very shaky and actually dangerous relation when the other side realises they were never really considered a equal person and having the ability to revange. There is a lot of implications and possibilities when someone possesses such power with no oversight and unlimited time but also is a person that doesnt want to be alone:D

If involvement with mortals ends in some kind of complications the collectors will be around to see the consequences, even if they don't directly experience them so sort of desensitization toward the very life they are trying to preserve is bound to happen. "They live for so short and can cause so much change in their own system, its best to control the situation" type of mindset. Also thinking of ecosystem like gardens that need work on makes it easier to deal with, especially since with the scale of galaxy they cant just spend unlimited amout of time in one place full of creatures that do not want to be preserved. Their actions come from a place of care but there is inherent cruelty in their concern

Sooo yeah, its the perspective that might develop in that kind of situation and might end up with leaving one of their own alone for eons. But who knows, this AU is a lot of theories in a trenchcoat and i dont want to defend their actions. Killing all titans? yeah thats bad. It's more about theorizing why anyone would consider that a reasonable option while also not being evil just cuz

#wow i hope its comprehensible #also speaking of gardens #So sorry to every slug that “lived” in my pumpkin patch #your sacriface was an vital element for this au to be created #...and it serves you right for killing 26 pumpkins #my poor pumpkins #i couldnt save you #the owl house #toh #toh fanart #owl house #toh collector #the collector #the collector toh #collector toh #the archivists #toh archivists #toh collectors #ask

[poetryandfluffycats]

Girls Night

A/N: yay lesbians. i really cant tell if this is good or not

Pairing: Arashi Narukami x fem! reader

Warnings: suggestive at points, sexual tension

Content: Arashi is trying to help her girlfriend get ready for a girls night with Pretty 5, but it seems like they both have something different on their minds.

Words: 656

Oneshot after cut!

"Please, just stay still!"

"No! You're gonna poke my damn eye out!"

"No I won't! Stop being so dramatic"

I wasn't too sure how I ended up in this situation. Sitting on the floor, makeup products scattered all around me as Arashi desperately tried to "make me more beautiful" as she put it. She had already convinced me to put some foundation on-which I could tolerated to an extent-but the eyeliner stick she held in her hand now was leading me to question why I let her do this.

"Please (name)! I promise I'll be gentle" She whined, a large pout on her face as she slowing inched closer and closer to me with the eyeliner, "you need to look good for girls night!"

I turned my head and shuffled away from the blond idol, hiding my head in my hands, "I do not need a full face of makeup for girls night, and you look good enough for the both of us. If you come any closer to me with that thing I swear-Ah!"

Before I could finish my sentence, I was tackled by a pair of strong arms. My head hit the floor and my whole head went foggy for a second. As my vision slowly came back, I was greeted by the sight of Arashi straddling my hips and pinning my arms above my head, a smirk playing at her lips.

"Got you~" She giggled, bringing the eyeliner down closer to my eye.

"H-hey! Naru-chan! Let me go!" I kicked and thrashed to no avail, Arashi had me well and truly trapped.

"Oh please, its not the first time we've been in this position" She giggled again, her breath hot against my face.

My face went hot at the implications of her words and I turned my head away, opting to stay silent rather than even try arguing with her.

"Thats what I thought. Now stay still"

She quickly got to work, brushing the pencil gently across my lash line, occasionally pausing to admire her handy work. Her tounge was hanging out of her mouth slightly and her eyes were hyper-focused on my features. I felt like a woman possessed as I watched her work, her movements were so delicate and soft and the look on her face was so... intense.

It was all causing a familiar warmth to grow in my lower belly.

"All done" Arashis voice snapped me out of my trance, my eyes darting to meet hers. She smirked down at me, a mischievous glint in her eye, "What are you looking at me like that for, (name)?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat and shook my head, unable to find my words under Arashis gaze. Her blue eyes that were usually so bright were filled with a darkness I only ever saw when we were alone.

"Oh? Nothing to say? Hm, that's okay. I suppose it's about time for us to go anyway. The rest of Pretty 5 will be waiting for us" She finally released my arms from her grip and stood up, leaving me dumbfounded and flustered on the ground.

She held her hand out to me and I gratefully accepted it, allowing her to pull me to my feet and steady me. Humming, she brushed a strand of hair behind my ear and gave me a soft kiss on the forehead.

"You're so beautiful, (name)" Her voice was soft and sweet and my cheeks dusted pink at her words.

"T-thank you... so are you" I nuzzled into her shoulder.

She giggled and pulled away from me, playfully bopping me on the nose, "I know it. Come on, let's go"

With that, she skipped away towards the door. I obediently followed behind her, still reeling from the previous events and the lingering feeling in my lower half.

I couldn't wait for what Arashi had in store for me tonight.

#arashi narukami x reader #arashi narukami #ensemble stars oneshot #enstars x reader #ensemble stars x reader #oneshot #drabble #enstars #ensemble stars

[runnning-outof-time]

Tied to You | Modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: no - written for @peakyscillian ‘s 1.5K celebration

Pairing: Modern!Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: During a laid back Valentine's Day together, Tommy lets (Y/N) know how much she means to him and that he'll be by her side forever.

Warnings: language, implications of sexual situations, brief, vague description of a bad dream, mentions of scars

Word Count: 2957

A/N: congratulations on hitting 1.5K, Laura! I felt that it was fitting that I posted this on Valentine’s Day. I used the prompt: I'm running out of creative ways to surprise you, so this year it'll just be kisses and cuddles, if you don't mind for this and I had a bunch of fun writing it! I hope I did this lovely couple justice. They’ve been through it, so I wanted to give them some respite here. Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: Disclaimer: the couple used in this is from the lovely series Family Ties that Laura’s currently writing - I highly suggest you go and check it out!!! This oneshot isn’t meant to continue their story, but rather is a stand alone using their backstory.

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

(Y/N) felt like the walls were closing in around her, and she couldn't figure out which door to go through; which door would lead her to safety. She heard the footsteps echoing from down the hall. Sam was coming, he'd be in front of her in a matter of seconds and she wasn't sure which door would lead her to Tommy. And the hallway was dark; no one was around. She was really, truly alone this time. Again. "Where have you gone, (Y/N)?" Sam's voice echoed down the hallway, "(Y/N)?" The breath got caught in her throat. She didn't know what move to make next. "(Y/N)?"

She awoke with a start, her chest heaving as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. Everything was black, spare from the dim light from the moon that was peaking through the curtains. "Where am I?" she asked, wondering if she was awake or if it was just an extension of her dream.

"You're at home, love," the voice that came from behind her made her relax almost immediately. It wasn't Sam's voice; it was Tommy's. (Y/N) was able to feel his arms as they encircled her waist, making her aware of his body behind her. "You're safe. I've got you," he told her, allowing her to twist her fingers with his after she blindly searched for his hand.

"It was a bad dream, Tommy," she breathed, her voice shaky as she tried to settle down again.

"I know," he answered her, "I've got you though, you're safe. Go back to sleep," he finished his sentence by squeezing her hand, letting her know that she wasn't alone.

Feeling his hand squeezing hers grounded her and allowed her to take a deep breath and close her eyes. The fear that another nightmare was waiting for her seemed to fade as she held on tightly to Tommy's hand, and she was able to slip back into sleep for what she hoped to be the rest of the evening.

—

The sunlight was shining through the curtains when (Y/N) opened her eyes again. She blinked a few times, shaking the sleep from her mind before she became aware of the arm that was draped over her waist. She tried to move out from underneath it, but that only made its owner grip onto her tighter.

"You're awake?" Tommy's groggy voice came from behind her.

"I am," she answered him, her voice coming out just above a whisper as a smile formed on her face. She always relished hearing his morning voice. It was something she was not often blessed with since he always liked to wake up hours before her.

"How'd you sleep?" he asked before adding, "for the rest of the night?"

"Good," (Y/N) answered, not commenting on his addition. She rathered letting it go anyway. "It was better being in your arms," she added, her smile widening as she then tried to turn to face him. She was met with resistance in her attempts, and she couldn't help but giggle as Tommy practically clamped her against his chest. "I'm trying to turn and see you," she got out in between her laughter as she attempted to move again.

Tommy didn't relax his hold on her though, "mmm, I like feelin' you pressed up against me though," he gave her the reason behind his resistance, his lips pressing against the back of her neck once he was done speaking.

"But I wanna see you, Tommy," (Y/N) pouted, giving up all of her efforts when it became apparent that he wasn't letting her go.

"I wanna hold you a little longer," he persisted through her pouting. Feeling her still in front of him, his hand moved from her stomach to her hip, and he slowly began trailing it down her thigh. "I love you, (Y/N)," he whispered, his lips right next to her ear as his hand ghosted over the scars that were still evident on her inner thigh, "every inch of you," he added, his hand moving dangerously close to where she always needed him before it continued on its trail back up her hip. A sigh left her lips as she involuntarily pushed herself back against him, hearing him exhale a soft grunt in response to her actions. He held his breath for a moment then before he let out a sigh, "and I'm still so fucking sorry..." he began, his tone now sounding different than it did before.

(Y/N) stopped him before he could continue down that road again. She spun under his hold so that she could be facing him. "Tommy, don't. Don't go back there again. It's in the past," she said to him, looking into his eyes before she slotted her leg between his so that she could move as close to him as possible. She continued to stare into his eyes as a smile slowly formed on her face. "You'll have all day to hold me, Tommy," she said to him in a sweet voice, changing the subject back to something light, "we've got the entire day to ourselves, remember?"

(Y/N) was right. They'd made it a priority to clear both of their schedules for this special holiday, and now they had no plans...well, none that involved leaving the house that is. Valentine's Day had become a special holiday over the last four years. (Y/N) didn't quite know what it felt like to be shamelessly loved on by another person until she met Tommy. Even though he made it a point to show his love for her on a daily basis, his efforts always increased tenfold on this particular holiday.

With everything that had been going on, the couple wanted nothing more than to wrap themselves up in each other for the day, and they planned on doing just that.

"You did clear your schedule, didn't you?" she checked, her eyebrows raising when Tommy didn't immediately respond to her first statement. She held her breath, waiting intently for what he'd say in response.

"Maybe," he answered her, trying his best to stop the grin from forming on his face.

(Y/N)'s eyes widened at his answer and she was immediately propped up on her elbow so that she could look at him straight on instead of sideways, "don't you maybe me, Thomas Shelby. Did you or did you not clear your schedule for today, like you said you were going to?"

Tommy was laughing the second she finished her statement, "I've got my schedule cleared, love, don't worry," he told her, brushing off her minor freak out as he reached his arm out to her again, "now lay back down, won't you?"

She huffed upon hearing his response, shaking her head at his antics before she slid back down into his awaiting embrace, accepting the kiss that he pressed to her forehead as she nestled back into his warmth. "That was not cool, Tommy," she said, her act faltering when she looked at him once more. She was unable to stay 'angry' at him when he had that stupid smile on his face.

"You still love me," he teased her, seeing her act crumble as a smile formed on her face.

"I do," she didn't even try to deny it as she looked into his eyes. She searched them for a moment before she brought her hand up and ran it down his cheek, enjoying the feeling of the slightest stubble that he no doubt would shave off once they got out of bed. "Happy Valentine's Day, Tommy," she said to him then, her voice softer now than it was before.

"Happy Valentine's Day, (Y/N)," he repeated the sentiment, moving his head on the pillow so that he could press his lips to hers in a slow kiss.

(Y/N) kept her hand on his cheek as they savored the moment with each other, smiles on both of their faces. She then pulled back and ran her thumb against his lips as she smiled at him again.

Silence hung around them for a few moments before she broke it by speaking: "I spent the last few weeks trying to think of something to get for you for today," she started, shifting slightly in the bed so that she could prop herself up on her elbows and look at him properly. He turned onto his back as she did this and watched her with a raised eyebrow expression, interested in whatever it was that she would say next. "I quickly realized that I'm running out of creative ways to surprise you, so this year it'll just be kisses and cuddles, if you don't mind," she finished her statement with a bit of a sheepish smile on her face. They stared at each other for a few moments before the anticipation got to be too much for her to bear. "You don't mind, do you?" she asked him, her eyebrows now raised as she waited intently for his response.

"Not at all," he answered her, slightly shaking his head as he spoke. A grin formed on his face as he looked her over, wondering for a moment how he managed to get a woman like her to be his wife. "Your kisses and cuddles are all I need, love," he told her, managing to snake his arms around her so that he could pull her up on top of his chest. He hugged her close to him then, making sure that she wasn't going anywhere as their noses were practically touching now, "and I hope I'll be getting a full day's worth of them," he said, looking at her expectantly as a similar grin formed on her face.

"Oh you most certainly will be," she assured him, her lips finding his so that she could lock him into another kiss that made the fires in her stomach increase with every second their lips stayed connected. Today was going to be a good day.

—

It wasn't until midday that Tommy and (Y/N) finally left their bedroom so that they could find something to eat. (Y/N) was the first to walk into the living area, with Tommy trailing close behind, and what she walked out to made her stop in her tracks. In front of her were two, rather large, vases filled with pink roses that sat on either side of a bottle of wine and two, ornate flutes.

"Happy Valentine's Day, love," Tommy's voice came from behind her, making her remember that he was still standing there as she came back from her state of surprise.

"You didn't have to do all of this, Tommy," she said to him as she spun around to face him, "now my kisses and cuddles are looking like a whole bunch of nothing," she pouted.

A pout formed on Tommy's face as well as he brought his hands up to rest on her shoulders. "I'd take those over some material shit any day, and you should know that," he said to her, his eyes locked onto hers as he spoke to show his seriousness. He glanced over her shoulder at the gifts he'd laid out for her for a moment before his eyes matched hers again, "'sides...this is for a lot more than just Valentine's Day," he told her then. He didn't need to go into detail with what he meant by this; she clearly understood what he was getting at.

A smile formed on (Y/N)'s face as she tried to keep the tears from welling up in her waterline. "Thank you, Tommy," she said to him, reaching over to take hold of his cheeks so that she could press a loving kiss to his lips, showing him how much she appreciated his thoughtfulness.

"Now come with me...there's something I want you to open," he said to her once they pulled away from each other. He took her hand and led her over to the table where everything was set up. Once they got to it, he turned and saw that she had a 'what more do you have up your sleeve?' look on her face. He only sent her a grin in response before he grabbed the small gift bag that was sitting next to the bottle of wine.

"What's this, Tommy?" (Y/N) questioned, surprise clear on her face for the umpteenth time as she accepted the gift from him.

"It's just something that I thought you might like," he answered before nodding to the bag, "go on...open it," he prompted her, making her look down at the bag.

(Y/N) then went about pulling the small pieces of tissue paper out so that she could see the unmistakable Tiffany blue colored, square jewelry box at the bottom of it. She glanced up at Tommy, who was watching her expectantly, before she reached in and pulled the box out.

"Let me open it for you," he said to her, stopping her before she could go about doing it herself. She wordlessly handed the box to him. He smiled at her before he took a step back so that he could drop down onto one knee.

"Thomas Shelby," she gasped, shocked by the suddenness of everything. She had to admit that she was slightly confused by what was going on...they'd been married for four years now; why was he going down on his knee again? "Tommy, what are you doing?" she just had to ask him.

"Don't worry..." he brushed her off, clasping the box in his hands as he grinned up at her.

"I'm not worried," she assured him, a slight giddy laugh escaping her lips before she continued, "I'm just wondering if I should maybe be wearing something more appropriate than just your shirt for you to be doing this," she finished by tugging on the collar of the white, button down shirt of his that she'd decided to put on when they finally left the bedroom.

"Fuck being appropriate," he brushed her off again, his grin growing as he looked her up and down, "I love you, (Y/N)...whether you're dressed in a thousand pound gown or nothing at all. I love you, and that's why I wanted to give you this ring today..." he paused then as he opened the box to show her a thin ring that had diamonds wrapped around its entirety. (Y/N) gasped when she saw it. "It's called the Full Eternity ring, and I chose it to let you know that I will love you for eternity, and that I'm tied to you forever," he ended his speech by looking up at her with a smile similar to the one he wore when he proposed spread across his face.

"It's beautiful, Tommy," (Y/N) whispered, her heart just about ready to burst from the sentiment of his words. She held her left hand out then as he took the ring out of the box and slid it onto her ring finger so that it could rest on top of her engagement ring and wedding band. "I love it...I love you," she said then, smiling as he stood up and allowed her to take his cheeks into her hands so that she could kiss him.

His hands hooked around her waist as their lips stayed locked together, and (Y/N) only pulled away to shriek when he lifted her up and set her on the edge of the table they were standing next to. "You're going to make a mess out of all of this stuff," she pointed out, looking at him with wide eyes before she turned her head to check and see if anything had been knocked over. She kept her hands fastened to his cheeks, but that didn't stop him from leaning in and pressing kisses to her jaw while she surveyed the table behind her.

"I didn't make one though, did I?" he asked, his words holding a cheeky tone, "not yet at least," he added, and (Y/N) was able to feel him smirk against her skin.

"Why don't we have some of the wine?" she suggested, her hands dropping from his cheeks to his shoulders as she rested the side of her head against his. Tommy dropped his lips down to her neck and continued peppering kisses against her skin, unbothered by her movements.

"Maybe you should give me more of those kisses and cuddles you were gifting me, hmm?" he proposed his own idea, lifting his head as he spoke so that he could look at her again. His eyes were clearly hooded over now, and just the sight of that made something stir within (Y/N).

She couldn't stop the grin from forming on her face. "I guess I could make that happen," she responded coyly to his suggestion, and that was all he needed to fasten his hands to her hips again so that he could lift her off of the table and turn them both around. "Wait," she stopped him before he could take a step. He looked at her with a quirked eyebrow, waiting for whatever it was that she was going to say. "We should bring the wine," she told him, her words making him chuckle before she reached over his arm to grab the bottle and two flutes from the table. "Now we're ready," she grinned at him, hooking her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck. Tommy chuckled at her before he finally stepped away from the table and began making his way back to the bedroom. Today was a good day indeed.

Tagged: @mgcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @raincoffeeandfandoms @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @lora21 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cilliansangel @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster

MASTERLIST

Here’s the ring Tommy gave (Y/N):

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders oneshot #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

[certifiedfreec]

“It seems as though Shelley insists the true monstrosity lies in humanity rather than Frankenstein’s creation.”

“Well, yeah, the monster was left completely alone because the doctor couldn’t bear to look at him after he brought him to life.” You vigorously wipe down one of the tables in the nearly empty coffee shop as you answer the sole guest that’s left. “It upset him a lot. He even says something to him like, ‘I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel.’”

“Hm.” A thoughtful pause. “‘Satan had his companions, fellow-devils, to admire and encourage him; but I am solitary and abhorred.’” Grey eyes skim the quote’s faded page, large hands clasping the worn cover. A prized first-edition print he had quietly boasted about earlier that evening. “It’s as if the doctor was so blinded by his need for recognition that he failed to recognize the potential consequences of his experiment. Such hastiness. I’m curious as to what inspired him, or rather pushed him, to play God like that in the first place.”

Tossing the rag into a bucket of cleaning solution, you sigh amusedly. “Probably just entitlement. But anyway, Boss, shop’s closed. I’ll be happy to hear your musings again at 7 o’clock tomorrow morning.”

Truthfully, you didn’t mind this guy’s presence at all; he did this often, at least a couple of times a week when he could, staying for hours on end to delve into his books and pick your brain on their contents while sipping your coffee. It started a good bit ago, and the second he silently breezed through the shop’s door you had an inkling that you’d be seeing him a lot. He made note of a classic piece resting behind the counter that you’d brought from home that day, and the slow parts of your shifts were soon filled with rich discussion about the stories you’ve both read- a welcome break from the monotonous routine of pulling shots, steaming milk, and taking complaints from the middle-aged women who insisted they ordered their drink “extra hot.” Quickly, he grew to become your favorite regular; he had quite the heart for literature and art, and he was fairly easy on the eyes too.

He lets out an appreciative chuckle. “Well, I’ll be sure to remember my alarm, then.” His low voice has the heaviness of sincerity as he teases you, and you could almost swear it was flirting. He carefully closes the book before tucking it under his arm, standing to his full height. Albeit not the tallest, he’s still able to look down at you. “I’d quite like to hear your thoughts on Dr. Frankenstein’s innate motivations.”

You fight the blush that threatens to tinge your cheeks, halfway tempted to keep the doors unlocked just to talk to him some more. However, this could be a double-edged sword for you; you’d be here all night chatting with him if you allowed that discrepancy. Then you’d be too tired to comprehend all his reasonings the next morning when he’d want to debate all over again.

“I mean, I’ll be off in about fifteen minutes,” you blurt out, not fully realizing the forwardness of the unspoken invitation. An invitation that is met with surprise from your normally nonchalant regular.

There’s a small smirk tugging at the corners of his fine lips as his eyebrows raise slightly at you. “Very well. Where do you suggest we take this conversation, then?” He is all too impressed with this turn of events as he sets down his book to collect a few haphazard mugs, bringing them over to the sink for you. The small action, while also being another discrepancy, nearly makes you swoon. “On second thought, don’t answer that. I know just the place.”

Your heartbeat surges when you wonder about his implication, taking the mugs from him and plopping them into the soapy water. His stormy grey eyes watch you with interest as you take care of the nightly closing duties, cleaning the tableware before setting everything in its proper place.

“It better not be Frankenstein’s laboratory,” You halfway joke, curious as to how this night could unfold with the guy you’ve always regarded as the friendly yet handsome customer. Another part of you is wary, but he only shakes his head, sending the choppy black locks that framed his face into a gentle flurry of movement.

“No, nothing like that at all,” is all he answers with a reassuring smile and a chuckle. Concentration lost on what may lie ahead with him, you’re barely able to focus on counting out the register as you lock it up and grab your bag. “If you say so,” you reply with a small smile. With a flick of the light and his chivalrous door-holding, you’re both out of the shop and securing its entrance with your key before you turn to your good-looking regular.

“Where to, Boss?” You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little nervous about venturing somewhere new with him.

“It’s a surprise, but I think you’ll like it.” His tone is genuine as his dark tresses flutter in the night’s breeze, walking beside you and guiding you toward a vibrant ramen joint nestled a couple streets away. “Oh, and don’t feel like you have to call me that. I’m Chrollo.”

Chrollo. What an interesting name- yet it fits him perfectly. You say it aloud, which seems to satisfy him. Moments later, you feel his hand cradle the small of your back with the same tenderness of his beloved book as you reach the restaurant’s doors, and it sends heat along the entirety of your skin. Part of you toys with the thought that this could be the beginning of a story of your own, bound in cloth and published in ink for you two to analyze over coffee later.

This creation might be much more beautiful than Frankenstein’s.

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

It’s a lovely evening as expected, and Chrollo drops you off at your doorstep with a warm promise to debate literature outside of your work hours again. He’s everything and then some- charming, collected, unafraid to banter with you, and part of you is honestly disappointed that the evening doesn’t escalate further. Still, you’re vibrating with giddiness, unable to rest as you think about your quasi-date with him, and you’re already imagining what kinds of stories you’ll talk about next.

After a few hours of finally sleeping, you’re awoken by a panicked call from one of your coworkers early that next morning. Something about the store’s register being wiped empty of its change, and that’s all you need to hear to be there in record time. Once you arrive, you scope the scene and the coffee shop is perfectly kept the way it was last night, save for the now desolate register. You inspect it carefully, shocked at how meticulously the cash had been removed, and the results of your search make your heart pound. The only items that surface are your door key along with small slip of paper with some elongated handwriting. It couldn’t be.

Your entire being blanches when you read the familiar words straight out of Shelley’s book:

“I seemed to have lost all soul or sensation but for this one pursuit.”

#i have such a thing with chrollo and frankenstein I don’t even know why #i love my war criminal #chrollo lucilfer #hunter x hunter #chrollo lucifer x reader #chrollo x reader #should i make a pt. 2 ??? #ryn’s rambles #hxh chrollo #chrollo x you

[where-theres-smoak-2]

So I am still stuck here: 'She'll come to understand. I've seen it.' Because like how Paul? How is Chani possible going to come to understand after everything that happened in Dune part 2?

Like she is so angry at the end of the film and it really does make me curious as to how Denis is going to bring her to a place where she understands and is ok with Paul's actions in Dune 3. So I have been having a think about it and I have a few theories on what I think could potentially happen with Chani's character and her relationship with Paul in the third film.

To be clear, I haven't read the books, I know a couple of details from dune messiah that were told to me, but I've mostly managed to avoid spoilers, so this isn't based off clues from the book and is very unlikely to be book accurate, but then I figure Chani not being a believer and choosing to leave at the end wasn't book accurate either so it would make sense that how she comes back to Paul wouldn't be either. Also these theories aren't necessarily things I want to happen more directions I think they could go in. Some have similar ideas and themes but with variations, I think how likely they are to happen is going to depend on just how messed up and tragic they want to go with it.

All of them do have one thing in common though, close proximity. I really do think the only way Chani is ever going to understand is for her to physically be around Paul and see him using his new abilities as the kwisatz haderach and then realising that Paul's motivations are still in the best interests of her and the fremen and that he's trying to lead them down the best path to achieve that. They need to rebuild the love and trust between them through having intimate and emotionally vulnerable moments together as well. So these are more theories on how she'll be brought back into close proximity to him more than anything else. But without further ado lets jump into it.

Chani is Pregnant.

So these first couple of theories centre around the idea that Chani may be pregnant with Paul's baby when she leaves at the end. This is a theory that I've already talked about in this post. As a summary, Chani finds out she is pregnant and not wanting to raise the child alone or for her child to not know their father returns to Paul. Or alternatively Paul finds out she is pregnant and uses it to convince her to come back, its possible Jessica may try and manipulate her into returning as well as she'll see Chani's baby as the future of house atriedes.

But I also had another idea playing into this idea of Chani being pregnant and its a little wacky but could be interesting to play with. For me the interesting part of Paul's line isn't the implication that Chani will return but that she will 'come to understand', suggesting she gets on board with Paul's actions, she fully jumps on the bandwagon so to speak. We know that Paul could dream the future and that these dreams were often vague and full of terror. What if Paul's child can also have these prophetic dreams and through some weird bond between her and the baby that allows Chani to start having these dreams. Seeing all these horrors of possible unclear futures she realises the potential cost of choosing the wrong path and in her fear of these dreams combined with the conflicting feelings of being pregnant with Paul's child, she chooses to return to him now believing that he is at least trying to choose the path that will be best for them all. I also think this could create an interesting parallel between Chani and Jessica in that they both had kind of mystical pregnancies. Obviously it wouldn't be exactly the same because Chani's child wouldn't have awareness more just the link between mother and child in pregnancy allows Chani to take on some of the child's abilities as the offspring of the kwisatz haderach.

So I am going to put a dune messiah book spoiler warning here because I am going to mention something from the books that I learned, so if you don't want to be spoiled skip to the next paragraph. But I just want to be clear to those who read the book that when I say I think Chani might be pregnant I don't mean with the twins who I think will be born but later in the film, I mean with their first son who was born in the first book who is killed in the sietch tabr attack. They took it out of dune part two, which makes sense as they changed the timeline drastically, so I think its possible that they'll instead move this plot line into Dune 3 as an explanation as to why Chani comes back. I think their child will die in some attack or assassination attempt and this will make Chani angry enough to want revenge and their joint grief keeps her at his side.

Chani the Manipulator

So two important details make up this theory, one is that Chani's main resistance to the prophecy is that she believes that the fremen should free themselves and not an outsider, the second important detail is that whilst many will think the emperor is the most powerful person in the universe, the bene gesserit gained a lot of power because they had the emperor's ear. It can be argued that the true most powerful being is the one who can influence the one people think is the most powerful. So here's my theory, what if after some time away and after her anger has simmered down a bit she comes to realise that she could have a lot of power in being the one at Paul's side, the one to have his ear. Maybe being unhappy with some choices he is making in the holy war when it comes to her people she has this epiphany of, I can't change what has happened, I can't change the minds of the fundamentalists who are lost to this prophecy, and I can't stop Jessica's or Gurney's schemes/motivations, but I can manipulate/guide Paul. So she pretends to forgive him and goes back, puts herself close to him and sits in on the councils and when discussing decisions etc she nudges him into the direction she wants him to take, essential becoming the fremen that will help free them by working in the shadows. As I said above any reconciliation I think is going to come down to close proximity and I think as Chani is around Paul as she sees that he really can see different futures she is going to be more understanding and more trusting in Paul when he says he is doing necessary evils to ensure the best outcome for Arrakis and the fremen. I won't lie but I would kind of love this one to happen. Not only would I love seeing Chani embrace her own power and still stay true to her goals of putting her people's freedom first, I think it would be an interesting parallel to Paul in Dune part 2 where at first he works to be accepted by the non believers because he wants to use them as a way to get to the emperor but along the way he comes to genuinely love these people and feel like he's one of them leading to him choosing to abandon his previous path of revenge. I could see this going the same way, Chani at first sets out to manipulate Paul for her own motivations but in being around him begins to understand exactly what happened to him when he drunk the waters and what his motivations are now and decides that actually maybe Paul is what's best for her people and maybe her role/place is to be at his side and help him guide them to that green paradise.

Chani the Spy

These next few theories are going to centre around the idea of Chani either being a part of some kind of resistance against Paul or being the leader of a resistance. I could see Chani not being willing to give up the fight that easily and see her finding others who also still don't believe Paul is the Lisan al Gaib and who aren't happy with their people taking part in a holy war. I could see her using this resistance to become a real political pain in the ass for Paul. Maybe even using his own tactics of disrupting spice production against him, or undermining him in other ways. In a theory similar to the one above I could then see her fake forgiving Paul but to spy on him and feed information to the resistance. But again being in close proximity to him makes her feelings more complicated and she becomes less and less sure about what she is doing and whose side she is really on as time goes by and she realises it isn't as black and white as she first thought, I could see maybe the resistance deciding to plot an assassination attempt and this making Chani more conflicted as I don't think she wants Paul to die.

Let's Beauty and the Beast it.

This one again is based on the idea of Chani being part of/ leading the resistance. Maybe the resistance gets into a fight with Paul's forces and it results in this particular faction of the resistance losing and being taken as prisoners of war. Chani is captured amongst them and Gurney upon recognising her takes her to Paul instead of prison. Then we get a kind of beauty and the beast scenario except this ain't no fairy-tale its much darker. Essentially Chani is Paul's prisoner, but he gives her fancy quarters, real close to his obviously, and he makes a few demands like insisting she must eat her meals with him every day, take walks with him etc. You know forced proximity, she agrees to keep her fellow resistance fighters safe, the promise being they won't be harmed if she complies. Again its her being around him, being reminded of how things used to be between them, maybe she also sees glimpses of the Usul she fell in love with during these meals and walks and ends up falling in love with him all over again. That combined with, as said before, her realisation that he can see the future, him convincing her that he is doing it to prevent the fremen suffering a worse fate etc, keeps her at his side.

Green Green Paradise

So this one isn't particularly well thought out more of a vague idea that past through my head, but it was confirmed in an interview that Liet Kynes from Dune part 1 is Chani's mother. This isn't something that they have actually brought up in the films though, yet. But Dr Liet was a ecologist and was all about terraforming Arrakis and bringing water and greenery, which is very similar to the whole prophecy that the Lisan al Gaib will bring a green paradise.

Whilst Chani may not believe in the prophecy I could understand if she still had a dream of Arrakis becoming a green paradise because of her mother's own dream and her mother's background as a ecologist. Paul tells Liet in part 1 that as emperor he could turn Arrakis into a green paradise with a wave of his hand, well he's emperor now, so maybe he'll begin to deliver own this promise and maybe seeing the way he is changing Arrakis so that it has water and greenery makes Chani go back as she wants to be apart of helping build her mother's dream for Arrakis.

Denial

So another option is Denis could throw us a complete curve ball of a plot twist and actually Chani doesn't come back to Paul. Maybe it was only one, or a few possible futures where Chani came back and Paul was just in denial that it wouldn't happen, he thinks that as he can see multiple futures now he can definitely manipulate the events into ensuring she does come back, only he fails and the Dune 3 we get is one where Chani instead is full on resistance leader, fighting against Paul with all she's got. Maybe she even ends up killing him in the end. I have seen this outcome suggested quite a bit and comments like 'I'd love that for her' which whilst I understand the sentiment, no judgements here, personally I wouldn't love that for her. I think as betrayed as she feels, as angry as she is, it is clear that she still deeply loves Paul and I think sadly she always will, that's the true tragedy of their love story, they're on opposite sides/views but still love each other. I think it was clear from her reactions when she thought Paul was dead after drinking the wol and when he was stabbed during the duel with Feyd that Paul dying is her worst nightmare. I can't imagine how heartbreaking it would be for her to be the one to kill him herself, I think it would destroy her, so its not something I would want for her. But I also can't argue that it is a fairly common troupe, the whole love interests where one goes to the dark side, and it ends with one having to kill the other. I'm personally still traumatised from when Buffy was forced to kill Angel in BTVS and don't know if I could take it again.

I Guess We'll Never Know

This is kind of a theory but also more like my worst fear. So another mild spoiler alert for Dune messiah, but the book actually takes place 12 years after the events of Dune part 2. I did put forward a theory that maybe what they'll do for the third film is spend the beginning part showing what happened right after Dune 2, showing the holy war and what happens with Chani etc and then have the time skip a little later in the film and cover the events from the dune messiah book. But my biggest fear is that they will just stick with the time skip and Chani will just be there and we won't really get any explanation as to why she returned to Paul. Maybe they'll just decide that Paul's one line of 'she'll come to understand' is enough of an explanation. I mean I personally would consider this a huge detriment to Chani's character so I am really hoping this doesn't happen, but I'll guess we'll just have to wait and see.

So those are all the theories I have for now. I would love to know what other theories people have but until next time thanks for reading.

#dune #paul x chani #paulchani #chani x paul #paul atreides #chani kynes #dune part 2 #dune part 2 spoilers #dune messiah #dune 3 #dune 3 theories

[momobani]

Groundhog Day

THE WAY I hate YOU - chapter 5 - 10.9k

&team Nicholas x fem!reader - arranged marriage AU

SERIES MASTERLIST

Sum: the one where even coffee can’t save you. 

Warnings: swearing, sarcasm, a smidge of angst, mention of hospitals, implication of dysfunctional families, mention of wanting/not wanting kids, mention of food and alcohol, very suggestive stuff (smut separate chapter), mention of sex 

Soundtrack rec: Close - Nick Jonas, Tove Lo

Taglist: @nichoswag @seokka0o @sseastar-main @hyuckslvr @ssshasssh @wtfisgoingright 

A/N: please excuse the months of radio silence, sorry this took an age but i had to let this one cook properly, also life won’t leave me alone lol, it’s been hard lately, but hopefully this will get back on track at least a little <3

okayyy so there’s a bit of a formatting situation that needs explaining: basically the smut will be in a separate post linked within the chapter so that minors can just not interact with it and also the chapter doesn’t become 30k or some shit

You should have expected it really, at this point. 

You should have known you would be running late. Well, not you specifically, but your husband. 

“I told you to be ready by 2pm so we could leave.” you remind him as he runs around frantically, shirt still unbuttoned while he does his belt, toothbrush in mouth as he searches for a tie. 

You lean on the doorway and roll your eyes when he waves a hand dismissively in your direction. 

You decide you need to intervene.

“Go back to the bathroom, I’ll get you a tie.” you usher him away from his closet. He hums something that sounds like a protest but obliges and disappears.

You puff out your cheeks in thought, scanning the options Nicholas had laid out in the drawer of his closet. 

If you were your fashion diva husband, what would you do? 

He was wearing a light blue button up and black slacks, which were very simple, so the tie should bring something to the outfit. Your hand hovers over a silver tie with a tiny squares but settles over a dark blue paisley one instead. 

It would look better with his suit jacket, you think as you pluck your selection from its little cubby hole. 

You find Nicholas in the bathroom, toothbrush put back neatly in the little boba cup you used for both yours and his. He’s buttoned up the bottom three buttons but started focusing on his hair as if he just couldn’t settle on one thing to fix at a time. 

“Step back.” you say, squeezing in between the sink and Nicholas so he can keep doing his hair while you work on his shirt. He glances at you as if questioning if you really wanted to do this but you ignore him. 

You finish his buttons first, fingers nimbly popping the buttons through the holes while still holding the tie in one hand. Next, you reach up and pop Nicholas’ collar, threading the tie around his neck and bringing one end down the opposite side. 

Your hands move without effort, looping the tie into a knot and tugging it tighter so it goes into place. You notice Nicholas hasn’t put on cologne yet because he smells neutrally clean like the soap in your shower. You also notice that he’s finished doing his hair and is just looking at you as you work his tie. You stare determinedly at the tie and not up at him but you feel his eyes burning a hole through you. 

Nosy, you think. 

You leave the last bit for him to adjust and step away. 

“Thanks.” he says, tightening it accordingly. “How do you know how to tie a tie?” he asks, genuinely curious. 

You were about to walk out of the bathroom after inspecting your lipstick in the mirror but his question catches your attention. You look at him for a moment.

“Who do you think did Maki’s until he learned to do it himself?” you say before walking out. 

The thought sends you back suddenly. You remembered when you were a teenager and Maki was starting middle school, he had a uniform with a tie. Instead of going to your parents or the nanny that would sometimes take you to and from school, your tiny bean of a brother came to you, holding out his tie with a pout.

So of course you looked up how to tie a tie on the computer that sat in the living room, following the instructions on a Sunday afternoon as the sun set behind you. You practiced a million times, trying to get it perfect so Maki wouldn’t get laughed at by the other kids, that you were sure you could tie a tie in your sleep even to this day. 

You just hadn’t done it in years, but being married to Nicholas meant doing all sorts of things. 

Like running amber lights. 

You’re driving instead of him toward the charity event your companies were participating in, and you just want to make it on time. Your parents had already started asking if you were there yet, your mother especially blowing up your phone. You tell Nicholas to turn it on silent, discarding it to the depths of your bag. He obeys, popping it in swiftly. 

You’re almost there, mostly because you did run a couple of amber lights, and also took a shortcut through some small streets. 

“We should be careful when we get there, a lot of people will be looking at us.” you say. You’d been thinking about how to bring it up, the fact that due to the nature of a public event like that, you needed to be on your best ‘married’ behaviour. 

“Okay, Code Vermin it is.” Nicholas agrees. “Though, I doubt anyone will care about us, it’s a big event.” 

“Regardless, I don’t want to give my parents any reason to lecture me.”

“Got it.” 

When you arrive, you hand over your car to a valet (a charity event with valet parking? lifestyles of the rich and famous much? you could never reconcile the way that rich people did charity work while flaunting off their own wealth, but it didn’t matter since you were one of those rich people and you had to participate in the lunacy; leaving it would mean blowing up your entire life if you were honest) and make your way in, your arm casually draped around Nicholas’ own. 

As you walk into the venue, the parade of familiar faces begins. You switch into polite greeting mode and walk by, smiling and nodding and making small talk with whoever stopped you. 

The cause of today’s charity event was funding and equipping the new children’s hospital in your city. Since your companies largely dealt with pharmaceuticals and medical equipment, you were key figures in the very fabric of the event. 

Your mother spots you from fifty feet away and laser beams you in the back of the head until you feel something irking you and finally turn around to see her practically glaring at you and Nicholas.  

You automatically tug on his arm slightly to get his attention as he finishes chatting with some senior director of the hosting charity itself. You excuse yourselves and you steer Nicholas in the direction of your mother. 

“Get ready; the wolves are hungry today.” you mutter, smiling at some people you passed by. 

“About time, YN!” your mother hisses immediately when you’re within earshot. She switches her demeanour when she turns to greet Nicholas, smiling fondly at him. “Hello, Nicholas. Lovely to see you again.”

“Nice to see you too, Mrs L/N.” Nicholas says smoothly, extending his best son-in-law greeting smile.

“I was just wondering, when are your parents coming?” she continues as if you’re just an ornament or part of his outfit. You had to admit, you were a little grateful she liked him more because it meant he would take most of the heat today, although it made you feel guilty toward him too.

“They should be here soon, I can call to check if they’re okay?” Nicholas offers politely. Your mother shakes her head gently. 

“Don’t worry about it at all, dear, no need to bother them. I’m sure they’ll be here soon.” the response gives you whiplash but there’s truly no space in your heart for surprise because of course she wouldn’t mind your in-laws being late; everyone else got a free pass, but you, you were the bane of that woman’s existence as far as you were concerned. “Well, I’ll let you two go, the auction will be starting soon, so get some good seats if you can.” your mother says. 

“Auction?” you ask. This was the first time you’re hearing about an auction, though it was probably because you’d filtered everything you knew about this event out of your mind in order to stay focused on your work load. 

“Yes, YN, there’s an auction of art pieces, which will be one of the sources of donation. Please pay attention, hmm?” she smiles tightly at you and you feel a smile spread across your own face. It was ironic but it came naturally, the bitterness just about disguised in its artificiality. 

“Yes, Mom. We’ll get good seats.” you say. “Enjoy the event.” 

It was the automatic good-daughter-response that had been pre-programmed into your microchip since the matrix decided you had to be born into this family out of all the other families. 

Your mother seems satisfied and steps away to make conversation with someone else while you and Nicholas slowly make your way through the large hall and find the seating area set up for the auction. 

“You need me to oil your hinges, Ex-Machina?” Nicholas asks sarcastically, leaning his mouth closer to your ear, as you register into the auction and are handed a numbered paddle by the clerk. 

“No, that’s quite alright, dear.” you raise your eyebrow for emphasis. Nicholas rolls his eyes.

“Pardon my mistake; that was clearly Stepford Wives but make it ‘daughter’.” he says but still holds out his arm and you stroll to your seats in a manner that cannot be described otherwise than ‘nicely’. 

“And you married into the dysfunctionality.” you remind him. “Godspeed.” you add. 

In a few minutes, the event begins, most people finding their seats but a few stragglers sitting down just as the auctioneer stepped up to the podium. 

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to today’s main event.” the man begins. He’s wearing a clearly uncomfortable tux and a pair of those Mickey Mouse type of white gloves, even though clearly he’s not the one handling any of the pieces. “If I may introduce the first piece we shall be showing today…” and that’s when your brain hits the snooze button and you tune the world out.

You sit silently and listen to the numbers that are being called out as each painting, photograph print or sculpture is bought out. It’s mostly modern art from somewhat local artists but the calibre is higher than you expected. It all goes by very quickly, you think. You stare blankly, in a somewhat dissociative state until one of the final pieces is brought out.

It’s a photographic print of the silhouettes of what looks like two parents and a child between them, holding each of their hands as they walk away somewhere, presumably into the proverbial sunset. You hadn’t raised your paddle once yet since there was nothing you really wanted but something about the photo makes you reconsider. 

You think how ridiculous it would be bid on it since you had nowhere to put it at your apartment, so you don’t react. 

“I like this one.” Nicholas whispers to your left. You’re snapped back to reality. You’d almost forgotten he was sitting there since you’d both been so quiet the whole time. “We should get it, it’s cute.” he continues. 

“Is it?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he turns to you briefly. “it reminds me of my parents and I. Whenever we spent time together, I mean. Which wasn’t much, but still.” he shrugs.  

You let his words sink in. 

The auctioneer is done explaining the origin of the photo by way of introducing the photographer. The photograph is named ‘Another Place’ and you suddenly understand what you were feeling. 

Just as the auctioneer starts the bidding, you feel Nicholas wrap his hand around yours and raise it as you hold on to the paddle. You’re a tiny bit startled since you weren’t thinking about the object in your hand at all and you didn’t actually think that Nicholas would bid on anything. You look at him momentarily but he keeps facing forward, focused. 

It’s strange.

You don’t think to remove your hand from the paddle and just hand it to Nicholas. Instead he holds on to your hand while you let the echo of the voices in the hall fill the cavities of your head. 

The photograph wasn’t cute. At least not to you. 

In your eyes, there was something inherently melancholic about it. 

As if the photographer was missing something.

The name confirmed it for you more than anything. You could interpret it as homage to the happier times spent with loved ones like your parents, like Nicholas thought, but you could equally interpret it as wanting to go back to or imagining what could have been in another place or time. 

It makes a small part of you ache a little. 

The bidding doesn’t skyrocket so Nicholas keeps on raising your hand until the other bidders fall flat. They don’t seem to want the photo as much as your husband does.

“Going once, going twice…and sold, to the young gentleman over there. Number 88.” the auctioneer makes a note of your paddle before they switch to the next item. 

“Sorry, did you just buy that print?” you blink rapidly, feeling as if you missed the whole thing.

“Yeah, but if you really hate it, I’ll keep it in my office.” Nicholas promises. You shake your head, still unsure of what transpired. You didn’t have space at home but you’d probably make some if you tried. 

“It’s fine. We’ll keep it.” you say.  

The rest of the auction passes by in a blur, and then you’re going to find the photograph so you could claim it. 

You stand to one side while Nicholas handles all the paper work and signs the check. Meanwhile, you look at the photograph some more, noticing that the child’s silhouette seems to be standing closer to the father but has its head angled toward its mother, as if looking up at her. 

You wonder if that could be you one day. 

It seemed unlikely, since you didn’t necessarily feel like it was your calling. 

That and you were married to Nicholas currently. 

Then it occurs to you that you have no idea what he wants in life. What if you get stuck together for a long time? Then what happens? Do you try to make each other happy and what does that even mean? Could you give him what he wanted if he ever did want anything? Would you be enough for him? Would he be enough for you? 

“Ready to go home?” his voice breaks through to you with the clarity of shattering ice. 

“Yeah, let’s go.” you nod, doing your best to look like you weren’t just living through an existential crisis for five minutes straight. 

You find yourself reaching for Nicholas’ arm on your own, holding on with both hands because you weren’t sure you could make it out of the hall without stumbling or stuttering otherwise. You needed stability just in case your legs decided to give out from the burden of your thoughts. 

Nicholas gives you a soft smile when he catches your eye and it feels like the most natural thing to return it, even if deep down you were still shaken. 

But just for a moment, it was okay.

You didn’t have the answers but it was okay.  

*

It’s a Wednesday morning, just before noon, and you have no intention of picking up your phone when it rings on your desk as you wrestle with a box of paperwork except, you glance at your phone and read the caller ID.

Maki’s name is on display and you drop the stack of papers back into the box, hand flying to the device. 

Your little brother rarely called you out of nowhere, especially not when he’s supposed to be in school. 

“Hey, Maks, is everything okay?” you say hurriedly. You feel your stress levels rising as you wait for him to answer. 

“Hey, will you come pick me up from school?” he asks on the other side of the line. The request strikes you as very odd. He sounds okay but you obviously couldn’t be sure over the phone.

“Why? What’s wrong?” you press. 

“Just come pick me up.” he says. “Please? And don’t tell mom and dad.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “Yes, I’m coming. Stay there.” 

You were about to have a meltdown. You were so worried about what on earth could have possibly happened for him to call you in the middle of the day and ask you to come pick him up. Could he be feeling sick and didn’t want to tell you? What could it be? 

You grab your jacket and bag and make your way out of the office, letting one of your colleagues know you were stepping out for an emergency. Well, you didn’t know it was an emergency but you just said whatever would get you out of that office quicker. 

You have to look up Maki’s school’s address since you basically had never been there and then drive in a way that would put the main characters of Fast and the Furious to shame. 

You throw your car in the nearest visitor parking spot and leg it to the reception of the main building. The school looks like a typical high school, except this is where all the smart, rich kids went and your brother was no exception. The kids all had crisp and perfect uniforms, the teachers looked impeccable too, and the buildings themselves were all but shining when you entered. 

You talk to the receptionist lady and explain that your brother had called you and she lets you into the foyer where there’s a seating area and several offices nearby. 

You knock on the door that the receptionist lady told you to and enter.

“Hello?” you poke your head in. You spot Maki sitting in one of the chairs around the table and open the door further, relieved to see he looked alright. 

“Are you Maki’s guardian?” the teacher sitting across the room says. 

“Yes, I’m his sister. Hello.” you say politely. 

“Hello. Please come in.” the lady says, gesturing with her hand. She doesn’t seem so stern but you feel like you’re in trouble for some reason. You slip into the chair next to your brother. 

“Is everything okay?” you ask, unable to take the tension any longer. The whole drive here, you felt like you were going to faint. 

“Yes, everything is fine. I just needed to call a parent or guardian in since Maki fell asleep in class this morning. It’s not the sort of thing we take lightly around here.” she informs you. 

You blink, thinking your ears failed you. Fell asleep in class? You swivel your head toward your little brother, who has subconsciously shrunk a smidge, which isn’t really possible since he’s not exactly a tiny child any more. 

“You fell asleep in class?” you repeat, addressing Maki. He nods quietly. “And you couldn’t tell me this over the phone?” you sigh. You ignore the teacher is there for a second. “Do you know how worried I was?” you demand. For a moment, you think you sound like your parents so you tell yourself to cool off and take a step back. 

The teacher clears her throat gently. “You see, miss, it’s not really a problem per se, we just needed to let you know and see if there’s anything going on at home that might have been the cause.” she clarifies. “We also think it’s best to send students home when they are not in their top form.”

“Right, I see.” you hum. “There’s nothing I’m aware of that could be the reason.” you say. You cannot discern the mix of relief and annoyance with the situation. What could he have been doing instead of sleeping and how could it have made him so tired that he fell asleep in class? At least it wasn’t worse, you said to yourself. 

“If students are unable to pay attention, then we find it best to give them some time to step away and come back when they can. Maki hasn’t done this before, so we won’t make a big deal out of it, it’s purely procedural that you were needed here today.” the teacher reassures you. 

“Yes, thank you. I’m sorry about that.” you apologise on Maki’s behalf. “It won’t happen again, right, Maki?” you question him. 

He nods, staying very quiet and very obedient. It was a world away from the vibrant, loud and mischievous Maki you knew. He must be really tired then, you decide.  

“Right, well, thanks, Miss. I think we’ll get going now.” you say, standing up and grabbing a hold of Maki’s backpack, which he was wearing the whole time he was sitting down. You pull him up by the bag, the way a mother cat carries around her kittens by the scruff of the neck, except when you pull him up to stand, he kind of towers over you a little since he’s growing up into a giant.

The two of you leave the office but Maki informs you he needs to get some stuff from his locker, so you follow him through the corridors to find it. You try your best not to have horrible war flashbacks to your own time in high school as you walk further in. By the time you reach it, the bell rings signalling what you assumed was the lunch break. The noise feels like a punch in the gut. 

Suddenly the hallways are flooded with students, teenage boys running around and milling about like tiny ants in a colony, except most of them are like a head taller than you, which makes it doubly terrifying. You feel awfully out of place and old if you were being honest, even if they were not that much younger than you. 

Maki rummages around his locker for a moment before you find two boys coming towards you. You think you’re blocking their lockers so you think to stand over on Maki’s other side but he notices and waves them over. 

“Hey, you guys, did we have math homework?” he asks them. You stand awkwardly to one side but nod politely at the kids. 

Your brother’s question gets ignored as the two boys fixate on you and one of them particularly stares at you in awe. You should have just waited for him outside. It makes you feel even more awkward and you clear your throat, directing the noise at Maki so he does something. He gets the hint and introduces them as his friends Taki and Harua. 

“Hi, aunty, you’re so pretty!” the one introduced as Harua, who was staring at you, gushes. The corners of Taki’s mouth droop down and he smacks Harua on the back of the head, dubious. 

Maki stops short and gives Harua a stank face. “Dude, bro, that’s my older sister!” he corrects.

But it’s too late.

The word ‘aunty’ echoes through your mind. It sends you reeling, mouth agape. You imagine your head unscrewing from your body like a lightbulb or one of those lego men and floating into outer space all while explosions and bombs go off in the background, very much in a poorly made, greenscreened fashion, all accompanied by a full orchestral and choral rendition of Verdi’s Dies Irae. You choke on spit just a little but purse your lips in order not to cough like crazy. 

Harua pales impossibly and you think he starts quaking like a newborn Chihuahua.

“It’s okay, kiddo.” you reassure him. “I suppose I am on my way to becoming a fossil.” you mutter to yourself, only half-sarcastically. 

“S-sorry aun- I mean noona, I- noona, sorry.” Harua stutters out and lowers his head a little, and you worry he might just burst into tears. 

“Don’t worry about it.” you try your best to seem friendly but you’re not sure it works. Instead you try to make Maki move faster. “I have to get back to the office, sweetie, hurry up.” you tell him. 

It seems to do the trick because Maki grabs one last textbook and shuts his locker. Harua seems completely mortified so he barely looks up at you as he and Taki bid the two of you goodbye and you leave.   

Once you’re sat in the safety of your car, you exhale laboriously.

“Quit it, will you?” Maki asks. “Harua didn’t mean it, he just got confused. You don’t look like an aunty at all.” 

“Gee, thanks.” you deadpan. “I didn’t even say anything, you didn’t have to go there.” you mumble as you start the engine. 

“Noona, c’mon, doesn’t Nicholas tell you you’re beautiful all the time? Don’t you know it by now?” Maki shakes his head in disbelief but you know it’s directed at you, not Nicholas. You wanted to tell him, as a matter of fact, no, Nicholas did not say such things nor did he need to. 

“‘Kay, first of all,” you pause. “I know my worth isn’t tied to my appearance and I don’t necessarily need to hear it from other people, although compliments can be nice. Secondly, insecurity still happens, regardless of what anyone says. Alright?” you explain. “The two states can co-exist. I know I don’t look like an aunty, but it was still shocking.”  

“Okay, got it.” Maki raises his hands in defeat. 

You’re driving but you realise that you don’t know where you’re going. 

“Wait a sec, where am I taking you?” you question Maki. 

“Please don’t tell Mom and Dad.” he begs, giving you puppy eyes from your passenger seat. You hadn’t thought about that yet but you don’t say that. “Just drop me off somewhere. I won’t do it again, just this once, just don’t tell them.”

You think for a moment. “Tell me why you fell asleep and I’ll consider it.” 

“I stayed up all night studying.” he says. You scoff loudly. 

“As if, lil bro, you think I was born yesterday?” you say, making a turn without thinking. 

“I’m serious! I did stay up all night studying since we had a test…” he exclaims. 

“A test?” you prompt him to keep going. 

“A test I didn’t study for.” he finishes, talking in tiny. It finally clicks and you nod.

“Right.” you say. “Did you at least take the test?” 

“Well yeah, but-”

“Good, just don’t do that ever again.” you warn. Maki nods enthusiastically. “Fine,” you concede. “you can stay in my apartment until it’s time for you to actually go home.” 

“Yes!” Maki cheers. “Thanks, noona, you’re the best!”  

You get home and while you’re in the elevator, it occurs to you that this was the first time Maki had actually visited you here. You just hoped that there was nothing weird there that might make him think something was off about you and Nicholas. 

You had been pretty successful in quashing his suspicions, not that you thought he had any since he hadn’t expressed anything in a while, so you really needed to keep up the facade. It might be hard considering he was going to stay in the apartment for a few hours.

You make a mental note not to let him see your separate bedrooms; that would be hard to explain. 

You punch in the code to your door and open it, ushering your little brother in before following. 

“Here’s some slippers.” you bring a spare pair out of the shoe rack and plop them in front of Maki. 

You rush into the living room to make sure that it was at least somewhat clean but you’re startled by a wild Nicholas that’s standing with his back to you in the kitchen area. He’s cooking something at the stove, a pair of massive headphones on and you swear under your breath. 

You skirt around the edge of the couch and make a bee line toward your husband. He seems to notice you in his peripheral vision as you practically run at him, making him jump out of his skin and drop the pair of chopsticks in his hand with a clang against the surface of the stove.

“Shh!” you hiss at him, putting a finger in front of your lips, glancing back at the foyer. Nicholas slides the headphones off his head, letting them hang around his neck. He looks more confused than you’ve ever seen him before. “Maki’s here!” you whisper. 

“What? Why? What’s going on?” he whispers back, alarmed at the new information. You shake your head dismissively. No time to tell the whole tale. 

“I’ll tell you later, but he’s here so act normal!” you conclude just as Maki makes his way through the door. 

“Oh hey, Nicholas hyung!” Maki’s face lights up when he sees your husband and you feel a little strange - your brother never greeted you like that. 

“Hey, buddy, how are you?” Nicholas switches up immediately, seamlessly, as if the shock of your arrival had never happened. He meets your eye for a second before properly looking at Maki, who deposits his backpack on the couch and comes to sit at the counter.  

“Y’know, normal.” Maki shrugs. You narrow your eyes at your little brother. 

“Not normal, you don’t normally get kicked out of school.” you scold him slightly. 

“You what?” Nicholas does a double take. Maki seems annoyed at you, as if you said the wrong thing. Well, you weren’t about to lie to your husband about something petty like that. 

“Eh, noona makes it seems worse than it is. I swear, I didn’t do anything bad.” he pouts. 

“He fell asleep in class.” you tell Nicholas, as if he had any authority in the situation. Nicholas visibly relaxes. 

“Oh, the way you were talking, I thought it was something serious. I used to fall asl-” Nicholas starts to say but the way you glare at him changes his mind. “I mean I never did that, that’s really, yeah, that’s not good.” he trails off, bringing a hand to massage the back of his neck. 

“Anyways, I’ve decided to let Maki stay here until he needs to go back home.” you say. “Is that okay? I didn’t think you’d be home actually.”

“Yeah, stay, it’s cool. I got home because my meeting was cancelled.” Nicholas replies, but is looking at you without blinking and you know something’s up by the way he keeps glancing at the hallway. 

“Okay, great.” you pick up the hint and turn to Maki. “We don’t have a lot to do here, Maks, but you can just watch TV for a while, right?” and you all but lift him out of his seat and steer him toward the couch. 

“Yeah, I like TV-”

“Awesome, knock yourself out.” you seat him at the couch and turn back to Nicholas, walking back across the room. 

With the background noise of the TV, you don’t think Maki will hear you if you whisper. 

“What?” you all but mouth when you’re close enough. Nicholas’ eyebrows raise so high they might ascend to the heavens above (your ceiling).

“Don’t you think he’s going to get suspicious?” he whispers back. “What if I say something dumb and he realises this is a sham?” 

You knew it was a real risk to let them hang out unsupervised for a long period of time but without you there for damage control, Nicholas was just going to have to deal with it. 

“I’m sorry, I promised him he can stay. You can figure it out. Just don’t talk about me or us.” you instruct. Nicholas nods, realising there’s no alternative. 

“Fine, just hurry back.” he pleads. 

You definitely weren’t sure you wanted to leave the two of them alone. Would the house burn down if you did? Could they handle it? This was inevitable, really, it was going to happen at some point. 

“Right, if he starts to get annoying, just threaten to tell my parents.” you forgo the whispering, moving toward the hallway.

“Oh? Kay?” Nicholas frowns, not quite understanding. 

Maki senses you’re about to exit and turns around to listen. 

Shit, he’s watching. 

You turn back to face Nicholas and he almost runs into you. You give him a slight smile. “Call me if there’s any problems.” you say sweetly, as if you’re not risking shattering the fabricated relationship you were thrown into. “Now, lean down.” you mutter. 

Nicholas lowers his head innocently and you lean in, planting a swift kiss to his cheek, making up the charade. If he’s surprised, Nicholas doesn’t show it because he straightens up and acts like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

You don’t dwell on it and turn to Maki next. 

“Listen to Nicholas, okay?” you warn. “Be good.” you say, directing it to the both of them. 

“Yes, Mom.” Maki drawls sarcastically. Your mouth drops open at the tone, then again, you didn’t have to wonder where exactly he picked it up from (you, most likely). You stick your tongue out at him as you walk away, Maki mirroring you almost instantly. 

You glance at Nicholas, who’s kind of standing still in shock at the display of sibling affection, not quite sure what to do with himself. 

“This house better be intact when I come back.” you call behind you as you walk out of the door. You really hoped everything would be okay. 

The entire time you were at work, you were anything but focused. You had minutes of good concentration before your mind wandered to how your husband and your brother were getting along. There was a few times where you even picked up your phone with half the mind to call and check but you realised how maniacal that really was so you put the device down on the other side of your office while you worked so you wouldn’t be tempted to slide into control freak mode. 

As soon as the working day finished, you rushed out of there, ignoring the sound of your coworkers still tapping away on keyboards, clipping and filing papers together, or the wistful sighs of those stuck doing overtime. 

You willed yourself to still follow road safety, in a carefully executed exercise of self-control, instead of mimicking your earlier attempts at cosplaying Vin Diesel behind the wheel. 

The familiar sound of the password unlocking the front door finally came as you yanked open the handle and swished through the corridor quickly, kicking off your shoes haphazardly in the process and padding across the floor barefoot. 

There was noise coming from your living room which you’d heard about a half-way through the hallway and you’re fascinated when you enter and find the boys sitting on the couch, controllers in hand and still oblivious to your arrival. 

They were playing video games. 

You breathe a sigh of relief. That’s pretty neutral and doesn’t require any intellectual conversation. 

“Yaaa, where you going, lil dude? That was never a short cut!” Nicholas chuckles, eyes still glued to the screen. 

“It is too!” Maki argues. “Just ‘cause you’ve never heard of it, hyung.” you can hear the cheekiness behind his provocation. 

“Hey, I don’t need to know stuff to be good at this.” Nicholas insists. 

You look closer at the screen and finally put two and two together; they’re playing Mario Kart. 

You can’t believe it - you’d been worried about nothing. And as a bonus, your husband now had a video game buddy, as it seemed. You decide to clear your throat and enter the room.

“Hey, I’m back.” you say. “What did you guys get up to?” you quiz nonchalantly. They both greet you, almost a little surprised since clearly they weren’t paying attention to you coming in. 

Great, a thief could have walked in and out and nobody would have heard a damn thing. 

“We just hung out. Nicholas hyung made lunch then we played video games and well, that’s it.” Maki says, lifting the controller in his hand as evidence. You nod.

“Great, good, awesome.” so you were hyperactively checking your watch for no reason. You were glad to know it was a great use of your time (not). 

“Maki’s really good at this game, YN. Why didn’t you tell me? I would have invited him over sooner so we could play.” Nicholas comments. 

“Well, if it’s about video games, Maki, you can always come around.” you say, only slightly strained at his forgetfulness - it was only a few hours ago that you were freaking out about your brother possibly figuring out he’d been lied to. Well, not lied to exactly, just … left in the dark about the nature of your marriage. 

“Really?” Maki seems really excited to hear he’s got a free-for-all to your house at any time. “That’s great, I’ll come on weekends so we can play, hyung!” he says and for a moment you feel a swell of emotion overcome you; you hadn’t seen Maki this happy and excited for a long time. And he certainly didn’t get this animated when he was hanging out with you. It made you feel like marrying Nicholas wasn’t so bad after all; it had its silver lining. 

“You guys hungry?” you change the subject. “I’ll make dinner.” you say, leaving your bag on the couch. 

“I can make it, if you want.” Nicholas offers over his shoulder. 

“No, no, you made lunch, it’s okay, keep playing.” you reassure him. You just needed a minute to yourself so cooking would suffice. 

“Alright,” Nicholas agrees but he keeps looking at you, as if he noticed the look on your face. You meet his eye and turn away quickly. You didn’t want him to think you were feeling weird about stuff since you weren’t. Much. 

“Maki, call home to let them know you’re here.” you call over the noise of the video game. It was getting late, about the time he’d go home from school. 

“Okay,” he groans quietly but does as you said obediently. You felt like you were nagging all of a sudden. 

You wondered if you’d been replaced as the favourite sibling now that Nicholas was in the picture. Were you jealous of your husband? What a dumb thought. 

You shrug to yourself and wash your hands. 

*

Sometimes you did wonder why you bothered waking up at all on your days off.

It was more of an instinctual thing; it was your body clock waking up for you, telling you that you just had to keep doing that thing where you opened your eyes and then dragged your body out of bed, regardless of whether you had work that day or not. 

So you do, you get up, and your natural routine of getting coffee first thing takes you to the kitchen where you spot Nicholas already at the machine, brewing the first lot of the day. He’s still in his pyjama pants but has not been bothered to put on a shirt yet, his hair all tousled and fluffy from sleep.

“Morning.” you say. You pick out a mug from the cupboard and situate yourself next to the machine, to wait for the coffee to be ready. 

“Hey,” Nicholas responds. It’s surprising since it’s morning and you usually tend to get communication via strange noises from him at this time of day. You glance at him for a moment, trying to discern if something’s different but you just watch his back muscles as he reaches for the milk from the fridge. It’s harder than you’d like to admit to take your eyes away and focus on whether the coffee is done yet. 

The machine does its usual whirring and whatnot but you can’t figure out why it seems to be taking an age. You stand with the empty cup but tense up when Nicholas materialises behind you, reaching over your head to get the box of cereal in the cupboard above you. His bare skin comes into contact with yours and makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

His body is warm against yours and it’s overwhelming. 

You realise you’re holding in a breath you didn’t know you’d sucked in, only letting it out when he stepped away. You purse your lips and try your best not to mind that, whatever it was.

But you do mind. So much. 

Your eyes wander back over to Nicholas as he fixes up his bowl of breakfast. He’s not doing much but you just watch him, mesmerised for some reason. It’s weird for sure; it’s not the first time you’d seen him without a shirt, so what on Earth was going on? 

You tear your eyes away but you’re incredibly aware of his every move. He glances at you, as if he can feel your nervous energy permeating the air in the kitchen, but doesn’t say anything. 

You forgot you were waiting for that damn coffee machine, you fingers tapping against the counter, eyes shifting around. You look at the numbers on your digital clock - had they changed at all since you came in? Was your mind playing tricks on you? Maybe it was just too early in the morning. 

“YN?” you hear behind you and you whip around, almost too fast, only to be shocked at how much closer Nicholas was than you thought he would be. He doesn’t say anything else, but assess you, trying to read you. “Are you okay?” he asks, looking at you with concern. 

“Yeah.” you breathe out, inaudibly. 

Except it’s a lie. 

It’s not okay. You can’t seem to focus on anything but Nicholas and the tension between you, thick and intoxicating, a fog that you could cut through with a knife. You hate it; it’s too hot and stuffy all of a sudden and you feel your chest rising and falling with every breath. 

Nicholas takes a slow step toward you, and then another and you attempt to step backwards but are blocked by the edge of the counter against your back. And then you’re standing too close, closer than explainable, close enough to see the colour of his irises in detail or the soft skin of his cheeks or the slight parting of his lips.

You weren’t proud of it but for a moment, you considered closing the space between you and kissing him. It was completely primal, this urge that came from nowhere in particular, an impulsive thought that could be converted into action if you just lost control for a split second. 

But you didn’t decide to lose control. 

Nicholas did.

And you followed, falling into him like a domino.

You think it seems almost natural, reasonable even, when Nicholas leans down and smashes his lips against yours. So natural that your arms curl around his shoulders immediately, grabbing hold to keep you locked together as you kiss intensely, mouths moving in sync as if you’d rehearsed this exact scene a million times. 

There’s a vague beeping noise somewhere in the background, and if you were paying attention, you would have spared a thought that it was your stupid coffee finally ready, but nothing could permeate the bubble the two of you were in.             

Nicholas swipes a paw to your left at the empty mug, his own abandoned next to it, and sends them flying off the counter. You don’t even hear the crash of ceramic against the tile floor because his hands are wrapping around the back of your thighs and he’s lifting you up to perch you on the counter, his mouth never leaving yours. 

You shuffle to accommodate him standing between your legs, wrapping them gently around his waist, keeping him flush against you. Your nighty rides up your thighs, revealing your underwear underneath and Nicholas’ hands make the most of it by running up the sides of your legs, gathering the material and slipping under to hold your bare hips. 

There’s not a single comprehensible thought in your head while you make out with your husband, except for maybe you liked having his tongue down your throat a little too much. That and your awareness of what you were feeling between your legs, exacerbated by the way your hips moved against Nicholas’. He was only wearing pyjamas and you could definitely feel something there. 

You can’t keep your hands still, your fingertips eager to touch every inch of his broad shoulders, reaching to his back and then finding purchase in his hair as Nicholas detaches from your mouth only to skim over your cheek and jaw on his way to your neck. You’re breathless while he pays special respect to sensitive skin of your neck, kissing it hotly and biting down gently, the intent of leaving a mark clear in his actions. 

You all but melt at how good it feels, relaxing in his arms. A low moan escapes your mouth while he’s busy finding your sweet spots. Then another.

“N-nico…” you can’t help the breathy stutter that your throat produces. It seems to catch his attention because he hums against you, acknowledging your reactions. 

Without a word, you kiss him again, guiding his mouth back to yours with one hand. He catches your wrist with one of his hands and holds it there while the other reaches down between you. You’re just about aware enough to know that he’s pulling at the strings on his pyjama bottoms. You shimmy further to the edge of the counter in response, reaching down too, fingers clumsy toward your underwear but before you can do anything-

Everything disappears.

You startle awake, half-jumping out of your skin with clarity that you’d been dreaming this whole time.

You straighten up, lifting your head up from your desk, recognising the familiar decor of your office. You feel almost dizzy and completely dazed from your sleep. Moreover, there’s an uncomfortable heat radiating from your skin, as if you’ve spent too long in a sauna or taken a shower that was far too hot for far too long. 

You swallow thickly and sigh, shaking your head. 

You had to calm down, it was just a dream. Nothing to worry about. None of that happened, everything was okay. 

Everything was-

“Are you okay?” 

You all but scream when you hear Nicholas’ voice behind you. 

“Wh-when did you get here?” you stammer, turning around to glare at him. You watch as he picks up a folder off your shelf, opens it and deposits a stack of papers inside. 

“I was here? The whole time?” he informs you looking back at you, scepticism on his face. “We’ve been working for hours, you must be really tired.” 

“Oh,” you try to calm down. “right.”

“Right.” Nicholas says. “So how was your nap? I didn’t wake you, did I? You seem surprised.”

“I, uh,” you pause to think. “had a scary dream.” you finish and get up. Scary might be an understatement; those kind of thoughts? About Nicholas? Definitely terrifying.  

The safest thing your brain could think of doing right now, was getting a cup of coffee. That should wake you right up, and you hopefully you can put this whole thing behind you. 

“I’m sorry, that sucks.” he hums sympathetically, picking out another folder from the shelf. You glance back at him while you start making your coffee. It’s really strange seeing him in your office - he tended to stay at his own at Wang Enterprises. But what’s stranger is that no matter how much you wrack your brain, you cannot remember what it is that you were working on right now. 

What kind of nap made you forget hours of past events?

You’re lost in thought as you pour the coffee, staring into space. 

“Woah! Hey!” Nicholas exclaims. “Watch it!” 

You snap out of it just in time to lift the jug before the cup overflowed. Your heart is racing from the sudden scare and you put it down quickly. 

“What the hell is going on with you, YN?” Nicholas asks, already by your side, taking your hands away from the counter and inspecting them in case you burned yourself. You look at him blankly and shrug. 

“I must have overslept.” you say lamely. He rolls his eyes, seemingly annoyed but you can tell he was just worried. When had you started to read him so well? 

“I’ll say.” he mutters, letting your hands go then scanning the table to check for any spillages. You were in an office after all; coffee spillages were the most common hazard. “Do you need a wake up call, Mrs Wang?” he quizzes, leaning closer to inspect your face.

“This feels like a trick question.” you blurt out loud. He was still up close, not making a shift away even when he chuckles at your response. 

“Gosh, YN, you’re such an over-thinker.” he says. “We should work on that.” he hums, still looking at you intently. 

“How?” you mumble, still drowsy. 

“Like this…” he trails off, stepping closer to you. You’re starting to feel a sense of deja vu and it’s because his face is literal inches from yours. Maybe it was because of your dream, but somehow you were desensitised to him being in that proximity and didn’t try to create any distance between you.  

You almost start panicking, but it’s more of a dull afterthought. “Don’t think.” he whispers, lips hovering over yours.

It’s too late to think, you note. 

You move, catching his mouth with yours, reaching up to hold his cheek for balance. 

And then you’re stumbling back, Nicholas guiding you toward your desk, lifting you to sit on the edge, papers flying as you swipe a hand back to make space. 

Was it sleep deprivation? Was it complete and utter lack of self-control? You had no idea, but you didn’t need to be told twice about not thinking; all you could comprehend right now was how badly you wanted to keep kissing Nicholas. Nothing else mattered in that moment.

He seemed to share that thought because he made no effort to de-escalate the situation despite you two being in your office, in broad daylight, with presumably all your co-workers outside. 

If you were using your brain, you’d worry what they would think if they found the two of you - the daughter of the chairman and her husband from the merging company - behaving like a couple of crazy teenagers during office hours. 

But you weren’t using your brain. 

You were using your hands, pulling at Nicholas’ tie to undo the loop and throw it to the side. Your fingers found the buttons of his shirt easily, popping each one from top to bottom, then sliding the garment off his shoulders. One of his hands had made itself comfortable squeezing your thigh, shoving your skirt up to expose your leg.

Your hands wander up and down his torso, trying to memorise to feeling of every inch of skin, as if it was the most important thing in your life. His hands rest in your bunched up skirt, thumbs playing with the skin just covered by your underwear and you just want him to get rid of it already. 

But he doesn’t; instead he keeps teasing the skin around it, fingers meandering over your thighs and hips. You whine into his mouth in protest, hoping he gets the message. 

And you wonder if he might have if it wasn’t for the distant beeping sound that gradually became louder and louder.

You open your eyes with gasp when you finally wake up.

The beeping sound is loud and clear and coming from your nightstand. You smack your phone to snooze the alarm and sigh.  

This time you’re in your bed, the ceiling of your room above you, and early morning sunlight streaming in through your window. 

You’re panting, chest rising and falling rapidly, way too hot and sweaty under the covers. You thrash around wildly, as if fighting your blankets until you’re sure that this is definitely reality and you’re 100% awake now. 

So all of that…all of it, was a dream?

You clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle the panicked squeak that almost escapes you. You have to sit up and attempt to calm down. 

It wasn’t real, none of it was, thankfully, none of that had occurred in real life, you tell yourself. It was all in your imagination. 

“It’s not real.” you whisper out loud. 

So why did it feel so real, if it wasn’t? 

There’s real heat radiating off your skin, a slight sheen of sweat over it and your covers are a mess and there’s a very real ache in your core, one that you wish you couldn’t feel right now. You reach down and find your fears confirmed with the slick that you find drenching your underwear. 

For a hazy moment, your brain jumps to the image of Nicholas smirking at you, amused at your circumstances if he found out. 

He’d never let you breathe if he knew. 

Then your brain jumps to the image of him lapping it all up with his tong-

“No!” you exclaim. “Stop thinking, just stop.” you will yourself, massaging your temples with two fingers. You hurry to get up and try to snap out of it, chugging the water you’d left on your nightstand. As you drank, you realised how parched you were - you needed to rehydrate after that horror episode. 

You needed to take a shower too but you decided to make a cup of coffee first, since caffeine was the next best thing if you didn’t want to start your journey to alcoholism at 7 in the morning, though it may be justified after what you just experienced. 

You glance in the mirror before leaving the room, seeing the ratty, oversized t-shirt you slept in crumpled but falling to just underneath your thighs. Now that you think about it, you should have known it was a dream because you definitely wouldn’t wear a nightdress that nice to bed.

You smooth over your bedhead a little and shrug; the faster you get coffee, the faster you can wash this whole nightmare away. 

You poke your head out of the door first, listening out for any movement. 

There’s quiet sounds coming from the kitchen, so Nicholas was definitely awake. Before you? He must have meetings or something. You decide to brave it and just get in and out. 

You creep up the hallway and practically sneak into the kitchen in your own home since you didn’t want to alert him to your presence. He’s got those giant headphones on with his back to you as he cooks something in a pan at the stove. 

You felt a bit exposed in your little t-shirt and damp panties but you knew he’d seen you in less, in fact, he’d seen you na-

Do not go there, you willed your brain. Now’s not the time to remember embarrassing shit.

You get to the kitchen and Nicholas notices your movement, turning to greet you.

“Morning.” he slides the headphones down to rest on his neck. He looks at you for a moment and you think this is it, he knows, he’s a mind reader, but then he turns back to his food without a word.   

“Hey.” you find a mug and get to the coffee machine. You knew you could practically do this in thirty seconds flat, so you moved as if you were running late for a meeting (it was simply a hypothetical situation but it wouldn’t hurt to practice it like a drill). 

“You want?” Nicholas asks, tipping the pan towards you to show its contents. He’s frying eggs. 

“No, thanks.” you say quickly and snap the button on the machine. You can’t help but tense up as if he’s going to say something more. Could he tell what happened? Could he sense there was something wrong with you?

“‘Kay,” he says. “Can you get me a mug too?” he asks, keeping his eyes on the eggs. 

“Sure.” you grab one as the machine whirrs. So far, so good. You were acting normal. Totally unsuspicious. 

The machine finishes its thing and you pour the cups, putting sugar into yours by habit. Your stomach growls so you decide to get some toast too even if that means staying in the kitchen longer. 

You busy yourself on the other side of the counter but look up when Nicholas moves to pick up a coffee cup. He picks it up and takes a sip. You realise it’s the one you poured for yourself with the sugar. Why didn’t he notice? He usually didn’t have sugar in his. Actually he usually had an iced Americano but that’s a whole other thing in itself. 

“Something wrong?” he asks when he finds you watching him.

“That one had sugar in it.” you say. 

“Oh.” he looks at it, as if he would be able to tell by looking at it. Dumbass. “Sorry, here.” he hands it back to you and you take it, putting it on the counter. 

Normally you wouldn’t care about sharing mugs since you were married - like technically - but you weren’t strangers, that’s what you meant, but right now you looked at it, thinking about how his lips had been there and that yours would be too-

Your toast resurfaces and you almost keel over in relief. Time to get the fuck out of there. 

You throw the bread on a plate and attempt to scat, bumping into Nicholas, who had silently moved to your other side, raiding the fridge. Luckily, you hadn’t picked up the hot coffee yet, or you would be wearing it right now. 

Nicholas is just as startled to find you up in his grill, milk carton forgotten in the fridge as he lets the door fall shut. 

So you stay for a split second, a Mexican standoff.

The eerie deja vu begins again and this time you’re determined to call the shots. You could not allow yourself to just fall into his arms. Not that he had any clue about all that, of course. But you did, your body did and it was starting to react as soon as Nicholas was near you.   

At the risk of your own demise, you make the first move. 

“Your eggs are burning.” you lie and watch as his eyes widen and he rushes back to the pan. In the meantime, you snatch the cup and plate and run.

You make it to the safety of your room and rest your back against the door, exhaling deeply.  

Oh god, that’s bad. That’s very, very, truly not good. 

You’re having weird thoughts about your husband, but then again, who were you really supposed to have those thoughts about? Jake from accounting? That guy Sunghoon across the hall? Heesung from your tort law class? No. 

It kinda checked out that you were somehow into Nicholas - at least on a subconscious level. He was something else entirely. He’d just made your brain short circuit and you had no idea why. 

Well, you did. He was Nicholas. He was your husband. 

And you could totally have sex with him, since that’s what married couples did, even fake ones such as yourselves probably did. You had to think about it - could you bring this up to him? It’s not like you hadn’t talked about it before. 

You’d have to establish boundaries - it’s not like you were in love with him - it would be like a friends with benefits thing at most, nothing to freak out about. 

Your husband was stupid fine; a total smoke show, who could really blame you for thinking like that? It’s a miracle you held out this long, right?  

It was true you’d lasted this long, but you also had your pride on the line - you weren’t the type of person to beg or to ask for anything, so how could you even consider asking him if he wanted to have sex with you?  

You knew you should just forget about the whole ordeal and move on.

So why couldn’t you?

*

Another day, another bullshit situation waiting to happen.

Work was slow and you were more than ready to leave since you’d had enough of office noise and the never-ending pile of paperwork that seemed to arrive in your email inbox every five minutes like clockwork. 

You wanted nothing more to leave but there was still some time left in the work day. 

Your email pinged as if on cue, and you sighed before clicking on the icon on your computer screen. 

You stopped short. This was totally unexpected. 

It was from the people you were negotiating with over the contract you’d lost. They had sent you an email containing a copy of the list of things you’d lost with the meeting notes. They had also requested a meeting next week to go over the revised stuff. The most shocking part of all was perhaps that it was all serious; it was definitely not some kind of passive-aggressive attempt to humiliate you, as there sometimes was in corporate relations (you would know, your legal team was often the one who started that sort of thing, you weren’t proud of it). 

You emailed them back immediately thanking them and confirming the date, then apologising profusely that you’d lacked on your end. You hesitated for a moment, but asked why the sudden reminder of the details from the first meeting. 

The email wooshed away and for a while you forgot about it. 

You were packing up your things to leave when the reply came. 

“Dear Mrs L/N…blah blah blah…” you muttered. “…your husband got in contact and explained that there was a logistical mishap with your papers and got the edits off of us…” you sit and stare at the screen. 

Your what had done what now? 

You took a moment to process. 

According to them, Nicholas had found their contact information and told them that there was a problem with your notes, and they just gave them to him?

What had he done? Surely no one would do that, right? Even for their wife? And why would they have allowed that? What could he have possibly said to them to make this happen?

Probably just told them his full name with a flash of that charming smile and voilà - they probably fell to their knees and begged him to take the edits. Regardless, he’d got them…for you.

You were a little winded, if you were being honest. You’d had so much anxiety over what had transpired with the contract, that you’d tried to block out most of it until you had to actually work on the matter. 

But Nicholas had tried to help you behind your back. Why didn’t he tell you? Probably because he knew you’d never let him to do that for you, yet it was probably the nicest thing any person had ever done for you. Saved you more humiliation and strife so you didn’t have to endure it. 

He really did that for you.

You felt like crying and screaming but like in a happy way for once. 

You couldn’t wait to go home and- and what?

If you saw Nicholas right this very second, you couldn’t trust yourself - you’d probably do something dumb like hug him or kiss him. Or both. 

You had to make it up to him, to thank him. 

So you did the only thing you could think he would really love.

…

The warmth that wafted through your apartment was far too strong for this to become a surprise but you kept cooking, making dish after dish, still on a high over what Nicholas had done for you. 

People didn’t tend to do a lot of nice things for you, at least not genuinely and with good intentions - usually it was because of your money - so when someone did, you always remembered and internalised it. It made you want to do good things too. 

It hadn’t escaped your attention that between you and Nicholas, the language of gratitude and affection was food, so it wasn’t difficult to pick out your thank you gesture. 

The front door beeped open and you heard the shuffle of slippered feet coming toward your kitchen.

“My god, it’s a sauna in here! What are you doing?” Nicholas exclaims when he comes through. 

“I’m fulfilling our beautiful kitchen’s purpose.” you state. “Did you have dinner yet?” 

“Nope, I’m starving.” he says, already eyeing the dishes on the table as he washed his hands. 

“Good, sit down. I made it for you.” you say, turning back to the stove, mostly to avoid Nicholas’ inquisitive eyes. 

“And to what do I owe this pleasure?” he asks, sitting down.

You turn and look at him. For a moment you think about how to phrase it, your tongue poking out your cheek. 

“Thank you for getting the contract back.” you say earnestly. You watch as recollection appears on his handsome face, and he nods modestly. 

“It’s alright; it’s the least I could do.” he replies. You smile fondly at him. 

“What did you end up telling them? I really am dying to know because I know you definitely didn’t tell them the truth.” you chuckle. Then you hesitate. “You didn’t, right?” you start to sound panicked.  

“No, of course not.” Nicholas reassures you. “I just told them our dog ate the contract.” he gives you small shrug. You think you misheard him. He must read into your reaction because he rushed to correct himself. “I’m joking! I just told them it blew away through an open window. It’s totally plausible, airing out offices and such.” 

You sigh in relief. “Alright, even I could believe that. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Nicholas hums. “Now, tell me all about this feast.”   

~

CHAPTER 5A - ADDICTED (smut MINORS DNI)

also memes!!!!!

~

a/n: thanks for reading, feedback is always appreciated <3 welp things are finally getting real for YN lol, hope that helps. also fun tmi - i looked at a photo of nico and went ‘hey husband’, then the next one of euijoo and went ‘hey husband’s husband’ lol, might explore this dynamic more tbh

*copyright 2021- © momobani 

#&team #andteam #&team nicholas #wang yixiang #nicholas x reader #&team x reader #&team fics #&team imagines #&team scenarios #momobani.writes

[lattesqueeze]

"how long have you known?" for the prompt game! x <3

hello my darling!! thank you so, so much for sending me a prompt!! here is...this. the fruits of my labours. (leave me alone don't perceive me i can't write these two for love nor money)

i love you!! <33

“I lied,” Sebastian says, cornering Charles halfway down the hall, secluded in an annexe with a frosted window. 

Charles does his best to hold eye contact with Sebastian, all long lashes and simple innocence. There’s something there, in Sebastian’s eyes. Something…not quite suggestive, per se, but there certainly feels to be some degree of implication in the intensity of his gaze.

“Huh?” 

“I said, I lied. I don’t think we need to start by holding hands.”

Charles stares at him, brow furrowed, and Sebastian can almost hear him thinking. A smirk wanders its way across Sebastian’s face, and he quirks an eyebrow at Charles, asking a silent question Charles doesn’t quite know the answer to. 

There’s half a heartbeat of a pause. Charles looks to the side; Sebastian guides his chin back, with a firm but gentle hold. In some semblance of natural instinct, Charles’ lips part slightly. His breath is uncertain, a shallow gasp and a soft sigh both fighting to be heard. 

Sebastian runs his thumb over Charles’ jaw, once, twice, and then he’s leaning in. Charles’ breath catches in his throat as he realises where this is going. His heart feels ready to beat right out of his chest, and he wonders if Sebastian can hear it hammering at a hundred miles an hour. 

He ceases to wonder anything shortly thereafter, though, as soft lips meet his. Sebastian’s lips are a little chapped, windburnt perhaps, but Charles doesn’t mind. God, he doesn’t mind at all. He sighs into the kiss, his lips parting just enough to invite Sebastian’s tongue inside his mouth. 

Charles winds his arms around Sebastian’s neck, intertwining his fingers. Sebastian takes the cue and wraps one arm tighter around Charles’ waist, the other hand holding Charles steady by the hip. Charles’ head fills with white noise, radio static taking over as his lips move in a natural dance with Sebastian’s.

After Sebastian pulls away, Charles takes a moment longer to open his eyes again. When he finally looks back at Sebastian, his eyes are wide, and his breath is shallow.

Neither says anything for what feels like an age. 

“You did want this, right?” Sebastian eventually breaks the silence, concerned. 

“How long…how long have you known?” Charles’ cheeks burn, and he can’t meet Sebastian’s eyes. 

Sebastian rolls his eyes fondly, a smile dimpling his cheeks. He can’t help but shake his head, relieved that he hasn’t misinterpreted the past several months.

“Sweetheart,” He tilts his chin down a little, his expression soft. “Anyone with eyes could see it. Don’t you know I want you too?” 

Sebastian takes hold of Charles’ hand, stroking his thumb back and forth over the inside of Charles’ wrist. Charles knows his features are flushed a deeper scarlet than his favourite Montepulciano wine, and feels a sheen of nervous sweat forming across his forehead. It’s hot - it’s so hot in here - and he resists the urge to fan himself with his free hand. 

“Should probably go…” Charles mumbles. 

“Don’t let Silvia see you like that, hm? Fans’d have a field day if they knew.” Sebastian says with a playful wink, in a bid to lighten the mood. He releases Charles’ wrist, encouraging him on with a smile. 

Charles hesitates as he heads out to the hallway. He turns on his heel, possessed by a spirit not his own, and kisses Sebastian firmly one more time, his fingers finding their way into Sebastian’s sandy hair. He steps back, breathless, a drunk grin slapped across his face. 

“Go!” Sebastian laughs. “We have all the time in the world.”

#thank you so so much! #i love these #despite how much i complain about writing them #i love a prompt #kiss prompt #sebchal #cha #cha writes

[loving-n0t-heyting]

epistemic status: i wish this weren’t true but can’t see how it isn’t, more emotive than analytic

The western response to Putin’s annexation speech is fucking with me simply bc, afaict, setting aside the topic of the annexation itself, the speech is 95% true and pertinent and damning and the press (and others I would expect better from) is reacting to it like it’s a bunch of borderline psychotic word salad or a form of verbal terrorism or both at once

You have the guardian describing it as the rambling screed of an angry taxi driver, but idk, having read the actual text I think it has a pretty clear and straightforwardly argued thesis: US military and financial hegemony is just the latest phase in a continuous 500yr-long history of western international subjugation and terror and vassalage, which western elites look upon as their very life and will fight to the last of their subjects to preserve, while Russia will refuse to be cowed. And the core claim here about western hegemony is absolutely correct! He’s just right! Right, and damning

I mean, yes! I, too, would like to see some of these rules! I think these are some reasonable points! (“Well, but he’s a hypocrite! He started the war!” Ok, who is whatabouting now?)

No two moments of the speech have attracted more attention than the “barely concealed nuclear threat” and the concluding batshit remarks about gender and sexuality. Let’s look at those in turn shall we?

Putin does, indeed, state outright that the US has set a nuclear precedent, but look at the context:

Is there some whataboutism going on here? Sure. Does it carry some implication of willingness to escalate? Yea ig. But what could any hs students scoring above the 50th centile on the reading comprehension portion of the ACT divine as the clear overall message being argued here? That the US abd its allies since WWII have demonstrated a total unrenounced and gratuitous disregard for innocent human life in the course of subjugating their enemies and lording over their “friends.” And it’s fucking true!! Mass murder has been the calling card of US interventionism for the last sixty some years, and all in the service of a network of vassal states it cynically presents to the world as its peers and allies! Any threat of aggression here is secondary to the correct and utterly pertinent analysis of American global rule being decried!

And finally he does end the speech by dredging up homophobic panic about the end of traditional families and gender roles that could have well been copypasted from one of the more articulate screeds on /pol/. Ofc this is stupid. But what, to be even-handed, is the unspoken claim of the media reports harping on this globohomo fearmongering despite its occupying a tiny overall fraction of the text itself? What is the obvious implication of fixating on putins nationalist fag-hatred in the midst of characterising his speech denouncing American world domination as the conspiratorial ravings of a lunatic? That the evil he is castigating, the international system of unilateral military and economic terror on the part of Washington and her friends, is the true guarantor of queer liberation. And if putins bigotry is revolting this cynical pinkwashed apologia in return has to come close

None of this, ofc, excuses the annexations or legitimises the phony electoral veneer, let alone the invasion itself. But my God! Truly this makes me understand where the tankies are coming from!! It’s one thing to decry the act, another to suggest this speech is anything worse than a litany of truths in the service of a lie! But these swine, these vampires, these bloodthirsty warmongering brutes are so totally accustomed to the presupposition of their own common sensicality and so inured to criticism they cannot perceive a list of fair charges against them for what anyone with eyes to see can readily acknowledge it in fact is

#putin/ukraine

[notzawzark]

GHOST (mw2) X MALE READER (platonic)

NOT ROMANCE, uh, reader kinda already had a backstory, so kinda bordering on oc, but things like his hight/skincolor/appearance in general is kept blank.

its kinda dogshit looking back on it, so dont expect it to be like.. good, in any sense of the word, its riddled with plot holes and like. writting inconsistency. and also the writting as a whole is just.. mid

TW/CW's: torture, implications towards past abuse, maybe other stuff, but you get the gist, if you your not for any of this, dont read, keep yourself safe

“so..” I break the silence that had once held the room hostage. “you're ghost.” I didn't expect him to actually get captured, let alone get captured alive. Looking through all the intel we have on him, by all means we shouldn’t have been able to get him alive.

I doubt doing this will prove fruitfull.

Were both sat In an “interrogation” room. Only recently was it promoted as such. It used to be more of a “torture and kill” room. Its empty for the most part, only a metal table, two old wood chairs sitting across from each other, and a few pieces of paper with a pencil on my side of the table.

A door behind me, no windows, walls made of some bleak concrete. There are two guards outside the room blocking the door. Not for me. For him. Hes tied up, the boss was never one to take chances. Neither would I with the record and reputation this man has racked up.

“you probably know why you’re here..” I look around “ in this… room.”  He doesn’t budge. The mask makes this infinitely harder. “you should probably get comfortable.. I don’t see you leaving anytime soon.” I sigh. I don’t see him leaving ever. Hell probably get killed before he ever gets that luxury. 

“ill be completely honest with you. My.. boss, along with all my associates think that what im doing is pointless. They all want to tear into that skin of yours.” I put my feet onto the table. Taking a deep breath in trying to figure out how to word my next sentence. 

“I don’t think any of that will work.” Its blunt, but its true. “I think” I pick up the pencil on the table and start tapping it absentmindedly. “that no amount of pain, or threatening of your life, or humiliation will make you to tell them what they want to hear.” I look him dead in the eyes, trying to gage how he reacts. “I think that shit just brews spite.”

 Nothing. Honestly its kind of uncomfortable. Staring into his unblinking eyes. They always kinda look glazed over, and red, like he doesn’t sleep much. “I hope you can help me prove them wrong. Because once im done here today theyre going to start torturing you.” I look away. The eye contact is to uncomfortable. “so, whats your real name, ghost?” he doesn’t respond. “what is it.. jack? Is it.. jason?” (I wrote this at 2 am, and thought that jason was ghosts brothers kid, im pretty sure that isnt right, but ignore it, his name is jason now) theres something in his eyes when I say the name jason, but I don’t think its his name. maybe someone he knows. Or knew. “ill be honest im trying to think of british sounding names, and I cant find any.” I crack a joke. Obviously, he doesnt respond.

I sigh. This is going to take awhile. I suggest a few more names. Jason was the only thing that he reacted at. A small reaction however. It could have just been my mind playing tricks. “what about your family?” hopefully this gives me more. “what was your mom like?” nothing. “your dad?” an eye dart. There. That. That is what I needed. I hum, its low, its clearly satisfied. He picks up on it. “your dad, was he a good man,”

Shit. Nothing. Hes either correcting himself now because He knows what im doing. That im trying to get a stir out of him. Or I was mistaken about his reaction. I continue. “was he a bad man?” nothing. Im going to kill myself. “my dad was a bad man.” He shows a hint of confusion. I assume he wasn’t expecting me to talk about myself. “I mean he wasn’t a horrible man from what Ive heard. But he left me and my mom.” I get up from my spot on my chair, and hop up, sitting on the edge of the table to his right. I can see his face better now.

“and a good person doesn’t leave their family, now do they?”

He shifts his focus over to my new spot. He wants to talk. I don’t know what he wants to say, but I can feel his eagerness in the air. “from what I hear you have a dead brother.” Surprise, then anger, then sadness. He looks away. Off to his left. That makes things harder. “how old are you?” he looks to the table as he asks me a question. He seems genuinely curious. “well your definitely British, Jesus.” I remark on his accent. He looks up at me, unamused with my observation.

“im 20.” He doesn’t buy it at all. “19” he seems even less convinced. “17” his eyes narrow. “fine, 16..” I mumble looking at the ground. I don’t see his reaction, but it doesn’t matter. “what is someone your age doing workin’ for a group like this?” I side eye him. “and what is someone of your status doing getting caught by a group like this?” he grunts and goes back to looking to his left.

I sigh, I probably shouldn’t have retorted with that. I might just have sent myself back to square one. “what do you do with your free time, mr. ghost?” he doesn’t respond yet again. I definitely sent myself back to square one. I get off of the table, back into my seat across from him, “have you ever had any pets?” I look up at him, to see his reaction.

It’s a very telling reaction. Hes uncomfortable. “yes? No?” nothing. I look back down, grabbing a piece of paper, and the pencil, I start drawing him. He doesn’t know that though, or at least I assume he doesn’t. I might be a bit more obvious then I want to be. “whats your favorite animal?” I look up again. Hes uncomfortable, less then before, but that’s probably just him regulating it. “mine are snakes.”

He closes his eyes. Ive definitely found something. Theres a moment of silence. “I like the big yellow ones.” He opens his eyes. “I also like the folklore and stories behind snakes.” Hes disengaged. Fuck.

I back down. “who is your favorite artist.” Safer. “music, painting, writing it doesn’t matter.” I focus on my drawing. Im not looking to get a reaction. ”don’t have one.”  He answers. “why not?” a genuine question. “don’t have time to have one.” 

“well I mean, you cant be working all the time, you get a few weeks off after each mission right?”

“no.”

I hum a response. High pitched. Acknowledging what he said. I begin to get more focused on my drawing, talking less and less. Eventually were both sitting in silence, the only noise in the room being my pencil scratching against the paper.

“you like art?” he nods to the drawings in front of me.

“it passes the time.”

He doesn’t say anything after that. An hour passes by. Im done. Well. As done as ill ever be. I stand up, pushing my chair back. Eyes fixated on my art. Analyzing it to no end. I pick it up, and place it infront of ghost, while I stand close beside him.

“your eyes are expressive.” It sounds creepier then I meant it to. He looks down at it. He really looks at it. Not just a glance over. taking a few minutes. for a bit I think hes fallen asleep until he speaks. “impressive.” 

That’s all he has to say? He looks at a drawing for three minutes in silence, and all he has to say is one word? ‘impressive????’ that’s it????? This guy is gonna make me shoot myself. “thank you.” I try my best to make it sound earnest. A very difficult task. 

I sit back down at my chair. Hes still looking at the art. “theyre probably gonna come soon.” He looks confused at first, but then it clicks. Hes gonna meet those associates i mentioned earlier. “but if you give me as much as a hint of what they want to hear, I can probably stop him.” Ghost doesn’t respond. Quiet as always. I sigh and lean back in my chair. He looks down to the drawing again. “you ever been drawn before?” I ask

“negative.”

What freak talks like that? Negative??? I get hes in the military but Jesus fucking christ. “you can keep it if you get out of here alive.” I laugh at my own joke under my breath. 

“hold onto it. I don’t want it getting bloody.” He looks up from the drawing. Completely deadpan. I cant tell wether hes joking or not. 

The door behind me opens, I get up off my chair. “heyyy.” I greet the man at the door from my spot. Hes big. Big big. Probably 6’7-6’8. Sturdy build. Hes always been scary, but I guess that’s a part of the magic. He rolls in a cart im unpleasantly familiar with. It has an assortment of metal tools. For all sorts of different things.

“(reader).”he acknowledges me. his voice always finding a way to unsettle me. He walks past me, dragging his cart of goodies with him. He stops. Grabbing onto ghosts chair, the wood making a shrill sound as he trudges it to the back wall. He takes his cart with him. Ghosts breathing has gone rapid. Mine probably would too. Scratch that. Mine definitely would too.

I grab my drawing off the table. I don’t want to be in here. I start to leave. “(reader), leaving so soon?” the big man turns around, some horrible device already in his hands. Im quiet. I have to watch what I say around him. “yeah.” I search for the right words. “you know I don’t like loud sounds.” Its true, I don’t. theres a tenseness in the room. Like a twig bending before it finally snaps. 

He turns his normal sick expression into a hallow smile. “how forgetful of me.” He turns back to ghost. Whose eyes are darting around the room. Probably looking for a way out. He closes them shut tightly, and I find that my queue to leave. I quickly walk through the door, past the guards, and out into the hallway. 

That night wasn’t a very restful one. the concrete walls might as well have been made of paper.

boom, you made it to the end, wow thats rad, heres an emoji : 🤯

ALSO if i do continue this, ghost and reader are prob gonna have like a father/son or older/younger brother bond. but yeah. uh i hoped you liked the fanfic.

#ghost mw2 #simon riley #call of duty mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #simon riley x reader #x reader #male reader #platonic reader #mw2 fanfic #fanfic #reader fanfiction

[warsamongthestars]

WHEN IT DIDN’T TAKE AN ARGUMENT

It took an argument, to go and save Gregor.

The thing about shows and fiction, is that to give the audience any story, you have to either build up context clues On-Screen or give implications even in the small details. That takes some skill in writing and visual arts, but it can be done, easily. And repeatedly.

So.

It took an argument, to go save Gregor. And Echo was right there, and he had to argue it.

Second episode in? No word on saving Crosshair, even though they had previous talked of “programming” in the Clones, without ever knowing of the chips.

( Not just no word either. No consideration for it. Whilst understandable, you don’t want to go back to someone who was shooting at you, there was no talk about what happened. No implication of talk, nothing. In order for it to happen in the story, you have to have either visual indication that something had gone on behind the scenes, or context clues that the audience can follow )

( And there were no context clues, no behind the scenes implications )

The Bad Batchers don't’... communicate. I imagine this is a nature consequence of their situation. They don’t fit in, they don’t appear the standard, they have wildly different attitudes and strong personalities--- they are the odd ones out.

And like in any community with strict guidelines, the odd ones out will be excluded, bullied, and each odd one will cope differently.

Collectively? The Bad Batchers simply don’t talk about it. And that’s become one of their main flaws. They don’t talk. They don’t confront the problem. They don’t have any indications that they do talk. They suck it up, and keep moving on...

... And I imagine they have severe backlash when confronted with previous events. For the most part, its just passive-aggressive talk.

Not confronting the problem is a coping mechanism.

So is the other problem... Survival at all costs. When one has been doing the Impossible, as the BBs’ mission record is suggested to, they know how to survive. When one is the odd one out in a culture that has a lore-history of culling the odd ones, they know how to survive at all costs.

And that survival mechanism, can be a flaw here.

Because it took an Argument to Save Gregor.

...

It did not take an argument to save Mayday (or try to).

It didn’t take a fight to save Cody.

32 Days abandoned on a glassed World, surrounded by ocean, to ensure that the BBs would be left alone by the Empire. No matter the cruel, and rather evil-sounding words.

It did not take a fight, to comfort Echo. Comfort him on screen. When every other BB distrusted him audibly and visually, one BB comforted Echo on screen.

That’s important.

There is a BB that does confront the problems no other BB does. Albeit he tends to be one mean sunnovabitch (You can’t deny that, he can very cruel with his words--but if he was a total asshole, I wouldn’t be talking about him now). He’s tactless, he’s not wrong, but he’s not exactly nice. He does tend to earn those decks to the face.

Crosshair has a much bigger heart than he lets on. His cruelty and disregard is often circumvented by his actions--he says one thing, and then does the opposite.

That’s telling. That’s telling of someone who’s probably been hurt repeatedly, and figured that its better to strike first. That’s someone who’s been hurt by loved ones, and went too far in vindictive anger and said a lot of things he shouldn’t have, (he wasn’t wrong, but he’s still one mean tactless sunnovabitch).

Its clear that Crosshair doesn’t actually put that much stock in Greater Purposes. He was apart of an experimental unit that did crazy missions, that were probably sent on suicide runs more often than naught.

His disregard for Rex’s rank, and Skywalker’s rank by extension, as well as a distaste for awards, and picking fights with the local ARC-Trooper-- tells of someone who does not like authority all that much. We simply saw it not from his perspective, but from the perspective of a character we were with for 7 seasons--Captain Rex.

(Emotional connections like that can’t be disregarded. It would be easier if we had taken from Crosshair’s perspective, and Rex was some random clone captain too prideful for his own good--then you’d get a sour detective story dealing with delusional overly optimistic commanders. The tone of a story changes when you have the Perspective, that’s why its important to Visually and Audibly see things happen).

And he’s not wrong. The Arc we get introduced to the BBs to, also has something that Crosshair later displayed in S2 of The Bad Batch-- a Regard for the “Regs”.

Because of Rex’s mission to save Echo (who by this point of the game, would be dead. He’s been “dead” since Season 3 of the Clone Wars, and S7 only came up nearly a decade later in our time), it by all accounts does look like survivor’s guilt.

And that guilt killed someone already-- the Pilot of the ship that got shot down in Ep1 of the TBB (The Bad Batch) Arc. And Crosshair would’ve have seen that.

As of S2 of TBB, we know he doesn’t take that kind of thing kindly. That isn’t necessarily a new character development, its probably an old one we’re just seeing come to the surface after the chip.

After all, high-stress in Star Wars shows your mettle. For Anakin, high stress means killing a lot of people.

For Crosshair? It means saving as many as possible. Because inspite of everything? He tries, and he does so again and again. He’s not nice about, gods knows he’s one mean sunnovabitch.

It doesn’t take an argument, to save someone.

and that’s something the rest of our “Heroes, his brothers, don’t have.

ADDENDUM

# This isn’t to nark on the rest of the Bad Batch. I get it, they’re idiots, and I love em.

But I’m not going to ignore the reality of the situation.

I get it, they’re surviving on scraps. And lot of their arguements also make sense. And defending themselves against Crosshair makes a cruel logic, because that’s exactly what Rex did, when he found out the BBs weren’t de-chipped.

They likely didn’t take Crosshair completely at his word, but they respected him enough to leave him to his choices.

And that’s hard in real life, honestly.

But the fact is, is that they are fully capable of doing shit on their own, and repeatedly, but it takes an argument to save people. Omega and Echo had to argue with them to save people, even other clones.

# Omega as the Morality for the BBs is wrong. She’s a kid, and I get it, one wants to impress the kid by doing good things, give her good manners and morals to live from.

But she spends a lot of time telling them they could do better, and that they should, and a lot of time debating about doing the right thing.

While understandable, in this cold galaxy, with the Empire about, one may back away from doing the right thing in order to survive. Frankly, a righteous cause means nothing if you end up dead and nothing changes.

But the point is, she’s a kid, and she’s acting as the Good Guy in all this. Some of the conversations had with Omega, tend to impress on her that she’s the only reason her brothers hadn’t gone evil (gone Empire), rather than, they just talking things out and getting honest feelings here.

Explain to the kid the full scope of the situation, gods damn it.

Again, we go back to the fact that the rest of the BBs do not confront their problems. Omega struggles to.

Crosshair, however, will head on confront an issue and be tactless. I mean, he is confrontational, and I can see why he is--but gods its like a monster truck rolling over a plastic Barbie Car.

# I’m not ignoring the reality of Crosshair either. He’s said a lot of stupid shit, really hurtful, down right evil at times. But like everything else, from what we have seen, he does it to get under someone’s skin and hurt them where it hurts most.

He does this when there’s a problem in the situation. We saw this with Rex.

And we’ve all been there. Been angry and hurt, and said something horrible. Oh yeah, that’s a real human feeling. More than what the rest of the BBs have done.

And yeah, he’s said things that do sound evil. A villainous speech one tends to get in video games from the psychopath rival characters. Or bullying characters that simply won’t shut the fuck up for five seconds.

But he’s already proven that he doesn’t honestly think that. He may have thought his place was with the Empire, but he doesn’t honestly think he’s that superior to “Regs” or he wouldn’t be spending so much time saving or trying to save each one he encounters.

He’s up against a hopeless circumstance. He knows it. He’s trying regardless. It is hopeless, but, someone with that kind of heart? Shielded with cruel words and prickliness and tactless observations?

You don’t get to tell me that he’s a bad guy, when he’s marched through a tundra and hypothermia and deadly situations and temperatures, trying to save someone.

# Really, it honestly implies that he’s not with the Empire for the Bigger Picture--But because he wants to belong. He wants to belong in a sea of brothers, hell, most of us would too love to belong with the Regular Clones--look at the fanon, and fanfiction, we adore them.

Seems like, Crosshair does too.

#star wars #the bad batch #bad batch #star wars crosshair #theories and speculation #analysis

[fafnir19]

The Angel Makers' Heir - Part II

Ina receives me with a hesitance that she fails to conceal. Her demeanor is fraught with tension, and a guarded wariness colors her every word and gesture. Our exchange is laden with halting silences and enigmatic allusions until, at last, Ina relents. "Ina," I broach the subject tentatively, "I cannot shake the feeling that there are untold mysteries surrounding my family and the island.

I need to understand the truth that clouds our history." Her eyes reflect an unspoken burden as she begins to impart a revelation that threatens to unravel the very fabric of my understanding. "It is true, Luci," she begins, her voice weighted with solemnity, "that I have delved into the village records, and what I discovered was most disquieting indeed. For twelve generations, the women in your family have served as midwives, and they have also been... Angel Makers." "Angel Makers?" I repeat, my disbelief echoing through the room. The term bears an air of somber gravity, and the weight of its implications hangs dauntingly in the air. "But what does that mean?" "In our village's history, Angel Makers were known as back-street abortionists," Ina elucidates. "They were tasked with performing clandestine procedures, relieving young women of the burdens they were not ready to bear." My thoughts reel in a deluge of realization, and I find myself struggling to come to terms with this revelatory truth. "And what of their role in our family's legacy?" Ina's gaze meets mine, carrying an unspoken depth of emotion. "They were more than just midwives—they were tasked with the delicate responsibility of tending to souls that departed before their time." "The Angel Makers took the lives of unborn children?" I inquire, the weight of this revelation settling heavily upon my shoulders. Ina's features carry the weight of an ancient burden. "It was said that these caretakers are blessed only with daughters, and yet, now you, Luci, defy that mold, for you are a man." My mind whirls in swirling turmoil, grappling with the staggering implications of her words. "I cannot comprehend the weight of this revelation, Ina," I confess, my voice tinged with uncertainty. "It feels as though the very foundations of my understanding are being challenged." "In our village's lore," Ina continues, "it was believed that those who bore the title of Angel Maker conducted their clandestine services to prevent the unborn from suffering in limbo. They guided the souls to the embrace of Hel, the Norse goddess of death." The mention of the ancient deity stirs within me a fathomless well of skepticism. "Hel? Are you suggesting that our family's legacy is intertwined with ancient myths and legends?" Ina's gaze remains unyielding. "Our legacy is one that transcends the temporal throes of mortal understanding. It is a heritage woven into the very fabric of our being—a lineage that bears witness to the enigmatic dance between the mortal coil and the eternal realm." Her words carry an ineffable weight, enshrouding my thoughts within a mire of disquieting revelation. "I must depart, Ina," I finally state, my heart heavy with the gravity of the unveiled truth. "There are answers I must seek, and I cannot afford to let doubt cloud my quest for understanding." As twilight descends upon the island and the veils of night stretch across its expanse, I find myself adrift within the uncharted recesses of destiny—my thoughts, awash with the tumultuous embers of revelation, unfurling a portentous mythos that intertwines the legacy of my lineage with the eternal machinations of fate.

After Christmas I was on duty at the retirement home when I saw the three-legged stallion again. However, this time he wasn’t alone: Beyond the veil of shadow and twilight strides a figure, her form draped in an aura that betrays both solemnity and regal bearing. The countenance that graces me is that of a venerable woman—timeworn, yet possessed of a mercurial dignity that transcends the confines of mortal sway. "Luci," she intones, her voice a haunting symphony laced with an unerring note of inevitability, "I am Hel." My breath catches, and the air itself appears to still at the utterance of her name—the very embodiment of an ancient divinity rendered palpable. "Hel," I echo, my voice betraying a tremor evoked by the proximity of numinous presence. "What brings you here?" The figure of Hel, shrouded in an ethereal luminescence, assumes a countenance of gentle persuasion. "The legacies of our lineage intertwine, seeding you with the burden and honor of consulship. Through the annals of time, your kin have borne steadfast witness to the dance of ageless souls, guiding them toward my embrace with a reverence that has woven its way through the fabric of eternity." A tempest of uncertainty rages within me as I voice my apprehension. "And what… what is it you ask of me?" Hel regards me with a serenity that belies the weight of her words. "You, Luci, stand as the culmination of a legacy that bridges the chasm between two planes," she explains, her voice carrying the resonance of ages past. "The tenure of consulship shall afford you the opportunity to negotiate the thresholds of life and demise." Her proclamation yields an ineffable depth, and my thoughts are enshrouded within a mire of disbelief and consternation. "How can such a gift rest upon me? I am but a mortal with no knowledge of the mythic tapestries that bind me." "In the shifting balance that delineates the boundaries of life and death, your agency navigates the harbors of destiny," Hel continues. "You wield the power to petition for the preservation of lives that face the embrace of the straw death. And likewise, you hold the dominion to orchestrate the voluntary cession of souls that linger upon the tenuous thresholds of mortality." The weight of this revelation bears heavy upon my heart, and I can scarcely fathom the immensity of the burdens that accompany this honor. "What of the lives that I may be tasked to relinquish—what responsibility shall I bear for their fate?" "Luci, the consulship is not a responsibility, it is a gift," Hel states with serene conviction. "You have the power of decision, unfettered by mortal constraints, to weave the threads of fate as you see fit." With the declaration of this unbound agency, an unfathomable horizon unfurls within the expanse of my understanding. The enigmatic legacy that intertwines my lineage with the eternal machinations of fate reveals itself—an enigmatic tapestry woven through the annals of time.

#mystery #Angel Makers' Heir

[ask-healthy-light]

While Shining headed to the armoury to gather his supplies, and Celestia returned to the Great Hall to talk with Spike and Eclipse again, back across the Eastern Sea, the group, now consisting solely of Light, Nox, Inferno, and Courage, was continuing their journey; but with Inferno's great display of her power of fire, the dense fog had lifted, allowing them all to see more than their own noses.

Though they did not have a map at their disposal, Light was able to guide the group East, albeit at a slower pace, as they had to keep an eye on the Sun to make sure that they were still on the right path; but at one point, when they looked back at the Sun, their sight was interrupted when a letter appeared right in front of them from a familiar green flame, which then gently fell on their snout.

After Light and the others chuckled at the sight of them with the scroll on their face, they opened the scroll to find that it was written by Eclipse, and that it held many notes they found in a very old report in the Medical Centre; and this report, Eclipse explained, concerned fireless Dragons, a kind of Dragon that they figured had somehow lost their ability to wield fire, but they were wrong.

Even though they discovered the report in the archive of the Medical Centre, Eclipse explained that it seemed to be more akin to a research paper, meticulously written by an author who clearly showed great respect to all the Dragons they had spoken with; but while they and the author had originally thought that it was some illness that affected these Dragons, they soon found that this was not so.

Instead, Eclipse continued, though these Dragons were without Fire, this did not mean they were not able to wield or breathe other elements, which was now most obvious with Frost, whose Ice-breathing was one of a small hoofful of different powers that a Dragon could possess; but it was difficult to confirm how many Elemental Dragons existed in the entire world, let alone how many of each element.

What they could say for certain, however, is that even a Dragon's presence is enough for an area to change rapidly, similar to how the Westernmost parts of the Dragon Lands, where Fire Dragons lived, had become scorched; and they told the others to be careful, for if the terrain drastically changed all of a sudden, this would mean they were now in a territory that was ruled over by other Dragons.

Before they could even process the implications of Eclipse's message about the territory they found themselves in, another scroll appeared overhead, which Light fortunately managed to catch before it dropped onto their face; and they politely asked Nox to read the new letter as they continued going through the one they were holding, hoping to find that Eclipse had added some suggestions for them.

With a quick nod, Nox took the scroll over from Light, and found that it was but a brief message to them, which told them of Shining Armour's desire to help them, as he claimed that he felt guilty he was not helping out as much as he thought he should; and he intended to go to the Dragon Lands, but they had to precisely plan out their next move, as Cadance could not know he was going so far away.

It took Nox a moment to understand why this letter, too, was written by Eclipse, and sent hither by Spike, but she realised that Shining could not reveal even a hint of his plan to Cadance, evidently as per Celestia's advise; and she told herself that using Spike's Dragon-fire to send a message was a brilliant idea, as it would not stand out here, and turned around to tell both Light and Inferno.

But when she noticed that they were sharply focused on checking their surroundings for any signs of trouble, she sweetly asked them if they were all right, but she received no answer in return, until she gently laid her paws on their shoulders; and the two snapped around with a sharp inhale, before they sighed deeply as well, and Light showed her the last part of the letter with a quivering hoof.

As she started to grow worried, Nox took the letter, and she felt her heart sink when she read:

"…following its arrival, any area would change to the nature of a Great Elemental Dragon…"

(Thanks for reading! And if you enjoyed, please reblog! Thanks in advance!)

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Featuring: Solar Eclipse and Twilight Sparkle as Twilight Eclipse from @asktwilighteclipse Nox Lunarwing from @nox-lunarwing

#story related #my little pony #writing #oc #healthy light #twilight eclipse #nox lunarwing #captain inferno #diamond dog pup #courage the pink pup #princess celestia #princess cadance #spike the dragon #shining armour