#which can hardly be surprise at this point in history

[apparitionism]

Appreciation 5

This one is very rough, and it doesn’t hit any beats quite right, but I’m pushing it out anyway. “Apples/Warehouse shenanigans” is the prompt, and what came to me in response was a version of the conversation that’s the primary component here (hence the title, sort of), which I’ve shoehorned into a semi-frame... ideally it would have become an actual story, but time zips along, and the story-pieces didn’t. (I should note that this little thing takes place in a world where season 4 never happened except for the Warehouse came back; after that, so did Helena.)

The appreciation proceeds, in any case, and earlier came four days’ worth of same: “Architecture,” “Bridge,” “Worry,” and “House.”

Voice

Steven Connor, Dumbstruck: A Cultural History of Ventriloquism. New York: Oxford UP, 2000.

[M]y voice is not something that I merely have, or even something that I, if only in part, am. Rather, it is something that I do. A voice is not a condition, nor yet an attribute, but an event.... [T]he voice always requires and requisitions space, the distance that allows my voice to go from and return to myself.... My voice can be a glove, or a wall, or a bruise, a patch of inflammation, a scar, or a wound.

****

Myka enjoys spending time in the Warehouse office. She likes it when she’s alone, naturally, and she’s perfectly fine with Pete, as long as he isn’t acting out; with Steve; and even with Artie, though in that case she’s always on alert, trying to perform as perfectly as she can.

She enjoys being there with Helena, of course, and in that case, too, she’s always on alert, trying to perform as perfectly as she can... but what she’s attempting to enact is less clear. It isn’t “Warehouse agent,” because she knows she accomplishes far less, work-wise, when Helena is present. For a while she’d tried to pretend otherwise, but holding the falsehood in her head made her feel like a fraud. And given their history, Myka doesn’t want anything fraudulent to intrude on their deepening accord.

But as much as Myka enjoys any time she spends with Helena, she has discovered that spending time in the Warehouse office space with Claudia is differently, maybe even commensurately, enjoyable, for it is also something very like therapeutic. This is because Claudia—when she is genuinely engaged in a project—talks. Her voice hums incessantly as she talks and talks and talks: to herself; to various screens; to deities, oracles, and ghosts; even to Mrs. Frederic, whom Myka usually presumes is absent and yet of course might not be... then again, she might be one of the those deities, oracles, and/or ghosts, based on Claudia’s mutterings.

In any case, the vocal chaos paradoxically soothes Myka. She knows she’s not being invited to participate in the conversation—or the “conversation”—so she’s free to absorb or ignore as she pleases. It’s how she imagines people who like a television on in an empty house probably feel about that sound: it’s there, it gives the space a sounded shape, but it creates no obligation.

Today, she and Claudia are working, companionably, with Myka silent and Claudia not, when a sharp question from the doorway upsets their yin-yang balance: “What are you doing?” asks Helena.

“I’m—” Myka starts, but the question was clearly for Claudia; Helen has marched to stand beside her, and she is looking down judgmentally at what Claudia is holding in her non-mouse hand.

Claudia looks up at Helena, looks down, then up again. “Eating an apple,” she says. She takes a bite and crunches away at it.

A defiant move, given the expression on Helena’s face, and Helena certainly seems to have read it that way: “Here?” she demands.

“You’re watching me do it, so I’m pretty sure you know the answer to that question.”

Again, defiant (or at least careless), but Helena calms, if only infinitesimally. “Isn’t that... unseemly?”

“It seems like I’m eating an apple, so I think it’s at least seemish. But I don’t really know what your Victorian-offended words mean, so maybe?”

Helena crosses her arms and nods severely at the apple. “Doesn’t it seem a bit... cannibalistic?”

“No? Because I’m not an apple?” Claudia’s tentative now, perplexed, and Myka can’t blame her.

“Given the architecture that surrounds us,” Helena says, freeing her arms to perform an all-encompassing swirl.

“Did you get hit in the head?” Claudia asks. “Maybe with an apple? No, wait, that’s Newton. No doubt you did a lot, but you didn’t discover gravity.”

“Entirely apocryphal, that. And he didn’t discover anything. How could one ‘discover’ a fundamental force that acts at all times upon every body on the planet? At any rate you needn’t worry about my head. What about yours?”

“I’m fine. Or I was until you called me a cannibal.”

“I called you no such thing, but in any case, I was making reference to the known affinity of this facility.”

Claudia squints at the fruit in her hand. “This place isn’t made of apples. And even if it is, I’m not made of Warehouse. Am I?”

“As Caretaker-in-training?” Helena asks, a muse of a question.

“Did Mrs. F swear off apples?” Claudia counters.

“I have no idea.”

“So you’re saying that if she didn’t, she’s a cannibal?”

“That is not in fact what I am saying. Did you not hear me utter the words ‘a bit’?”

“‘A bit?’ Isn’t that what British people say when they mean ‘you’re bathing in the thing’?”

“A bit and a bath being entirely dissimilar, I—”

“Here’s what I’m doing: never eating an apple again. Happy now?”

Helena smiles. Serenely. “Of course not,” she says.

It’s such a completely Helena response that Myka, who’s been trying to stay out of whatever this is, inadvertently contributes a small “hmph” of laughter. Helena gives her a look, one that doesn’t quite contain a wink. But it could have.

“Is there any pleasing you at all?” Claudia demands, and is that another look Myka receives from Helena? She resolves to ponder it later, as Claudia says, “What is it now?”

Helena, still serene, says, “The adage about the doctor.”

Claudia snorts, then offers Helena a big-eyed, sentimental blink. “But I love Dr. Calder. Don’t you?”

Helena bows her head—a “well played” nod of concession. “Of course. But I believe ‘the doctor’ is in this case a synecdoche for the medical profession.”

“Synecdoche, schmenecdoche. Which it turns out is hard to say... anyway, it’s the doctor. That’s what that daily apple keeps away,” Claudia says. “Queen Myka of Literalism, back me up on this.” Myka scrambles in her head for a way to resolve a synecdoche-versus-literalism battle to everybody’s satisfaction—scrambles also to resettle herself after Helena graces her with an “I know I’d win” lift of lip—but she’s saved by Claudia pushing on with, “And Dr. Calder’s the doctor as far as I’m concerned.”

“Consider a compromise,” Helena says. “For health purposes, you might eat an apple every other day. Ideally in some other location.”

“Location, location, location. But what if one of those other days is when Dr. Calder’s supposed to be there?”

Helena offers a little frown. Is she getting rankled at Claudia continuing the joke? “Perhaps adages aren’t edicts, darling.” The little condescension of “darling” suggests maybe so. “That is, perhaps they don’t behave as artifacts do, compelling a particular outcome.”

“Here’s another one: perhaps Warehouses aren’t made of apples, compelling you to call me a cannibal.” She looks down at her snack. “I don’t even like apples all that much, so no loss. Myka gave this one to me. Cannibalism-enabler,” she accuses, and she tosses her semi-eaten apple at Myka.

Myka wishes her reflexes weren’t so good: now her hands are sticky, their damp tackiness taking up space in her head even as Helena turns to her, apparently ready to spar. “I really don’t think you want to pursue this,” Myka tells her.

“Or perhaps I do,” Helena says, with a dangerous glint in her eye.

Claudia seems to have glimpsed the glint and determined that whatever danger it portended outweighed any benefit to watching what might play out. Backing away—as if letting Helena out of her sight would be dangerous in itself—she says, “If an apple was enough to set her off, Myka, you’re on your own.”

Helena watches her go. Then she says to Myka, with no glint and no hint of combativeness, “You seem less than pleased to have that in your hands.”

“It’s kind of mangled,” Myka says. “She doesn’t eat apples very precisely.”

“Are cannibals known for their precision?”

“I have to side with her on this one: I don’t think she and the Warehouse are made of apples.”

Helena smiles. “In all honesty, neither do I. But twitting Claudia is.... I’m sorry, but it’s entertaining.” She’s not wrong, but Myka can’t help frowning a little. “Don’t worry,” Helena says, “that isn’t my primary purpose. Ideally, I’d like to make her think.”

“About the Warehouse?”

“About who she is in relation to the Warehouse. Is, and is becoming.”

Myka finds Helena’s investment in Claudia sweet, but truth be told, a little overwhelming—and if it seems that way to her, Claudia surely finds it several orders of magnitude more so. But maybe the fact that they’re kindred genius spirits creates an easier bridge that Myka can’t sense? “Helping her with that becoming... it seems like a pretty noble goal.”

“Haven’t we established my lack of nobility?” Helena asks, and her increasing ability to speak lightly of that terrible, terrible time is yet another reminder that things are—and are becoming—different now. “There’s a bit of self-interest as well. Or rather, interest that is selfish, with regard to her future. Given that I myself was intended to be Caretaker. Until.”

This revelation levels Myka, who struggles to keep her reaction from showing. You should have known. Helena’s connection to the Warehouse has always seemed so strong... Myka has attributed it to her having simply been there for so long, even as she hated her imprisonment. In inadequate response, she begins, “I think that would have been...” An infinity of ways to finish that sentence, but the first one that comes to mind is “perfect.” But that seems a damaging thing to say, so she starts again, with “I’m glad you...” Now she wants to say “told me,” but that sounds selfish. She settles for a question: “Have you told Claudia?”

That seems to startle Helena. “Heavens no. She has no need to think about that sort of might-have-been.”

“I’m sorry you have to,” Myka says.

“Well. At this moment, I prefer the situation as it stands.” She tilts her head down at Myka. “Or sits.”

A low-grade giddiness that’s been swirling in Myka’s head since Helena invaded the office begins to ramp up its intensity. Years ago, she’d felt a quivery exhilaration begin to overtake her every time she was in Helena’s presence, every time she witnessed Helena being, whether with Myka alone or in any combination with others. She’d resisted it, then, as much as she could, but now there’s no need to fight it. If it’s a threat, it’s to Myka alone.

Helena chooses that moment to turn decidedly unthreatening: she reaches out and briskly plucks the apple from Myka’s grasp. It’s a considerate gesture, one clearly intended to save Myka the trouble of dealing with the mess; she should probably say a generic “Thanks, I appreciate it” in response.

But she can’t. All she can think is that now Helena’s hands are sticky too, that if she raised her own hands and caught Helena’s, now, they would join and hold, sugar-stuck, juice-wet.

She stays still. It’s not time yet. Not yet. (Yet. Yet. Yet.) But every new detail Helena shares is an intimacy, a small weight added to what Myka knows, added to what she wants, tilting the scale an imperceptible bit more toward resolution. Every new detail, that is, helps the resolution resolve...

“Unless you wanted a bite?”

Myka’s eyes rise from the hand that’s now extending the apple toward her to find a lifted eyebrow. A challenge?

Helena lowers the eyebrow and smiles, releasing the tension.

Not quite yet.

END

Note:

I was also thinking about the idea/problem of if somebody’s eating an apple in the Warehouse, they probably can’t smell any apples other than the one they’re eating, and that might offend the building—it might think the eater’s trying to appropriate its approval thunder. Or maybe it would get into a perfume competition with the actual apple, thinking that that apple was being the thunder-stealer, expressing its liking for the person... I was also wondering about varieties: like, does the building personalize the apple smells depending on which one(s) the person it likes tends to favor? Or it just Granny Smiths all the way down? What I’m really asking, I guess, is some variations on “how does the Warehouse deploy its weirdo aromatic ‘voice’?”

#bering and wells #Warehouse 13 #fanfic #Appreciation #Voice #I know this one's a little off the rails #I'll try to get back on a better horse tomorrow #but that might be even worse! #voices will still be involved #which can hardly be surprise at this point in history #beringandwellsappreciationweek #day 5

[utahimeow]

even death will not do us part — satoru gojo

summary — your wedding day with satoru gojo is not exactly conventional.

pairing — satoru gojo x f!reader

warnings — slightly suggestive beginning, pure fluff, established relationship

word count — 3.9k

author’s note — for satoru’s birthday ♡ i put my heart and soul and blood and sweat and tears into this and i hope u can tell. it may be the best writing i’ve ever done, so if u read it, thank u and i love u. also it’s like extremely sappy so pls keep that in mind lol

After a seemingly endless night, tendrils of golden sunlight come crawling through the blinds. They dance over your flesh that’s dotted with soft bites from your lover, and warm it like soft kisses until your eyes peel open.

Satoru’s already awake, ocean eyes gazing at you. A wave of memories of how he touched you so ardently the night before comes washing over you. After it, a wave of heat, his lustful poetry echoing in your mind until it pools between your thighs. Finally, the heat subsides into something warm, a gentle glow which settles within your ribs.

“Good morning,” your lover rasps, voice heavy with sleep. 

You reach out to him until your hand finds his face, your fingers grazing over soft pink skin, your thumb tracing the ridge of his cheekbone. He’s slightly puffy, eyes still ever so slightly droopy, but slumber is not the only thing that simmers in them.

“Good morning,” you reply, your words hoarse yet covered in honey.

For a while, neither one of you says anything, instead basking in one another. Satoru drinks in the sight of you laying next to him, gulps and gulps and gulps it down like it’s red wine, until he’s drunk. 

“Marry me,” he says. Time stops moving and your heart stops beating momentarily. Your mouth tries to move, tries to give a response, but every word you’ve ever learned suddenly abandons your memory. 

He laughs, so obnoxiously beautiful, but within his eyes that carry a millennium of history there is only pure sincerity.

It shouldn’t surprise you this much—his question—not when Satoru had long since carved a space inside your heart, and you in his. You’d been together so long that sometimes you both forgot you weren’t married, and Satoru had a habit of casually stating things like “when I make you my wife”, because it was undisputed that he would marry you.

Still, somehow you didn’t see it coming, and not like this. Satoru Gojo was a man of grandeur–always dramatic, always making a scene, always showing off in some shape or form, whether it was you or his cursed technique. The last place you would expect him to propose was in bed at ten a.m. after a night where he made you see God himself. Although, the more you think about it, this is where he is home. Where he bears the deepest parts of his being to you and where he may shed the weight of a society that idolises him as a god. Where he can ask you to marry him as just Satoru.

“Don’t go shy on me,” he says, still amused by your disbelief. 

“I-yes. Yes, I’ll marry you,” you say, sobbing out a laugh, launching yourself into his embrace and burying your face into his bare chest. 

“What if we did it today?” he asks, his voice reverberating through you until it almost puts you back to sleep.

“Did what?” you ask.

“Got married.”

Your head shoots up, your eyes flitting rapidly over each of his nonchalant features. Once more, you don’t find a single hint that he’s kidding. “You’re insane.”

“You love me for it,” he says, his face like a mischievous cat’s. “And I can’t spend another minute without you being my wife, so please, elope with me.”

Unlike Satoru, you were never exactly one for grand gestures. He knew you never had dreams of a big fairytale wedding with hundreds of guests or a giant hall, and it’s precisely one of the reasons why he’s asking this of you.

“The higher-ups are going to be pissed,” you say, leaning in close to his face until there’s hardly a hair’s width between your noses. 

“That’s the point,” he tells you. “Is that another yes, then?”

You stare into the depths of his irises, the ones that are swimming with adoration, the ones that have never changed how they stare at you, even after all these years. Not that you had any doubts before, but suddenly you’ve never wanted anything more. The feeling settles into your bloodstream, to your bones, to the very core of your being–certainty.

“Yes, Satoru, I’ll elope with you,” you say, and then your lips are on his. There’s a million words in the way he kisses you, ones that he would never be able to speak even if he tried, so he kisses you and kisses you in hopes that you’ll understand them. He kisses you like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. It is.

You part, sorrowfully, heads spinning, but then you remember you have things to do. 

“I need to start getting ready,” you say, and you already know exactly what his response will be–a groan, a whine, and him begging you to stay in his arms for a little while longer. 

He does just that. 

“Satoruuu,” you say, mimicking the way he whines your name. “The sooner I get ready the sooner we’ll be married. Isn’t that what you want?”

He pouts for the sake of pouting, then his arms loosen around your waist and you leave him with a peck upon his lips before tossing yourself out of bed. 

You spend the next hour and something at your vanity, having never imagined that your wedding day would leave you doing your own hair and makeup.

After Satoru brings you a cup of coffee and plants a chaste kiss to your temple, he heads to the bathroom to shower, leaving you to finish getting yourself ready. When he returns twenty minutes later, he finds you standing in your walk-in closet in only your bra and underwear, looking terribly focused. You don’t need to be a mind-reader to know he wants to tell you to go as you are—he refrains, however. It’s a miracle that he’s able to.

“You should wear that white dress you have. The one with the sleeves,” he suggests, flapping his arms and immediately you know which one he’s talking about. A plain white minidress with flared mesh sleeves and sweetheart neckline that you wore to a fancy dinner once. You fish it out, and Satoru approaches you as you step into it and pull it up your hips. Wordlessly, he zips the back up, holding his breath as he does. 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to see me yet,” you quip, giggling when you turn to face him. 

“Baby, there’s nothing conventional about how we’re getting married,” he grins, giving your ass a tap as you walk past him to pick out your jewellery. 

Of course, he insists on putting your necklace on for you too, a dainty Tiffany chain with a diamond sun pendant that he gifted you for your birthday years back because he liked to call you his sun. Again, the feather-light brush of his fingers over your skin sends bolts of lightning shooting to your fingertips. It’s reminiscent of the way he made you feel a decade ago, before he had even kissed you for the first time, when his cheesy, cat-like smile would send your heart racing and heat rushing to your face. When butterflies would erupt in your belly and you felt like you were floating. For some reason you found it hard to believe that feelings like that would persist, but it is in Satoru’s blood to prove you wrong, and he did, and he does still.

You decide on a pair of glimmering white Jimmy Choo heels, but before you can even think to put them on, Satoru is on his knees, softly grasping each leg of yours so he can slip the shoes on and carefully tighten the straps one by one. It’s something that never fails to make you giddy–to make you question if you’re even worthy of this man (you know you are, after all he’d spent the last few years doing everything in his power to prove to you that he’s the lucky one between you). Still, you think it’s perfectly valid to wonder what you’ve done to deserve someone like this.

Satoru stands then, a perpetual smile upon his glossy pink lips. He’s in a pair of pressed black slacks that hug his thick, toned legs, and a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the top buttons left open (because you always tell him you like how good he looks) and nothing to cover his eyes. You’re the only person he’ll be looking at today, after all. He’d die before letting anything obscure his view of you.

He takes your hand and raises it into the air and twirls you around, his eyes drinking in every detail of you, inhaling your sweet, angelic scent, and now it’s his turn to wonder how he managed to get so lucky, as if it doesn’t occupy his mind from the very second he wakes up to the moment he falls asleep. 

He’s still unlearning the idea that he’s alone because it was all that he ever knew from the day that he was born. He’s always had friends and caretakers and people who admired him and who depended on him and who worshipped him, but he was always there at the top, the closest thing to a god that a human could be—by himself. No one could possibly understand him enough to be by his side, not really. Then one day you came along and you slithered your way into the cracks and crevices of his very being and refused to budge, and you showed him that he’s not alone, that there are people who he can trust and depend on and people who he can love. 

He never lets go of your hand, pulling you close to his chest and grinning down at you. His eyes gleam with a mischief that’s all too familiar, one that’s got you instantly suspicious.

“Please don’t hate me,” he says but it’s without any real concern. 

You have an inkling as to what he’s planning, but you don’t even get the chance to open your mouth to question him because one moment you’re standing in the foyer of your home and the next you’re outside of the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building. 

He predicts the way you smack his chest and whine out a mildly irritated “Satoru!”–it only makes him grin harder, because he knows how much you hate when he teleports you without warning, but right now he just can’t wait another moment (and neither can you) so you don’t have it in you to be genuinely displeased.

As he makes his way to the entrance, you tug on his arm suddenly to stop him after a certain realisation hits you. 

“Satoru, don’t we need a witness?” you ask. 

His eyes narrow in thought and he looks around, cartoon-like, before his face fills with resolution and he’s strolling away from the building with you in tow. 

“Excuse me,” he exclaims, and you follow his gaze to where an older couple are walking by, hands intertwined. They turn to him inquisitively, so he continues. “My gorgeous fiancée here and I are about to be wed. All of our friends were too busy today, so we don’t have any witnesses. Would you spare a moment of time for a young, smitten couple?”

You roll your eyes, but the grin smirk your lips betrays you. “We’re sincerely sorry for interrupting your day. What my insufferable fiancé here means to say is we would appreciate it greatly if you would be our witnesses.”

The couple take a glance at one another, silently communicating before they face you and Satoru once more, nodding their heads.

“It’s our day off, we were just going to walk around the city anyway,” the lady explains, her pale, weathered lips stretching into a gentle smile.

Thus, you waltz into the city hall altogether, and only now does it begin to settle in that you’re about to marry Satoru Gojo. The morning had gone by so quickly– you’d only been awake less than four hours, and during that time you never once stopped to let any of it sink in.

Now, it sinks in. All the way to your core, to the fibres and cells that make up your being. Inside your ribs your heart is swollen, filled to the brim with scarlet red until it overflows and paints everything around it, until every part of you, every seam that holds you together has been altered, touched by something that Satoru gifted you on the first day you met him.

Your lover seems to move in slow motion. Your breath is caught in your throat. It’s a dream, you’re sure of it. Then Satoru squeezes your hand, ever perceptive of your thoughts, and reminds you that it’s not. 

After gathering a pile of documents, a man in a suit takes you to a room that’s a smaller version of a court and begins to lay out the papers, simultaneously explaining each one’s purpose and indicating what you and Satoru must fill out. You provide him with your own documents–birth certificates and proof of residence, and then the two strangers who had offered themselves to you as witnesses give their signatures. 

Your officiant makes his speech in a professional language, far from the flowery words given by priests or family friends in churches or venues adorned with flowers and ribbons along every wall.

Lack of preparation means your vows are a repetition of a script written decades ago: you take Satoru to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish; from this day forward until death do us part.

During Satoru’s turn, he hesitates. His eyes shine with a strange epiphany as he stares down at you. 

“...From this day forward, until the end of time. Even death will not do us part.”

There are no words in any language, dead or alive, that are adequate enough to describe the elation you experience. There is no concept, idea, or theory that would truly reveal the way that you are consumed by love for him. It runs through your bloodstream, intrinsic to your very being. 

The officiant announces that you and Satoru are husband and wife. Now you are one flesh and bone. He leans forward, kisses you, and it’s a promise of eternal devotion.

Outside of the city hall, where time no longer stands still but you still feel as though you are not inside of your body, your husband Satoru Gojo bows to the man and woman who made your marriage possible. 

Satoru Gojo does not bow. And while it is easy to attribute it to some god complex, to the product of his upbringing, as many do, those to whom Satoru has shown his soul know that it is rebellion. It is the denial of a convention he refuses to assimilate with, one he does not believe in, one which begs children to be grateful to those who have sown them as though they had the choice to be sown.

When Satoru Gojo does bow, it is not without good reason. Most often it is only when he owes someone his life—so he bows to the two strangers, whose signatures on a piece of paper mean that he is eternally yours.

Beside him, you bow too.

“Thank you,” Satoru says, then both of you straighten up to find the couple smiling before you. There is kindness etched into every line on their face, a fondness simmering in their eyes. Their arms are linked, and all of a sudden you’re looking in a mirror.

“Congratulations on your marriage,” the woman says. “I’m certain you will flourish together.”

“You know, young people are always getting into relationships, but seeing true love like what you have with one another… It’s a rare thing nowadays. Please cherish that,” the man says.

“We’ll be forever grateful for you,” you say. “Thank you.”

The four of you part, but the couple, whose names you do not know, now lives in a part of your mind that can never be erased.

The first thing Satoru does as your husband, as you walk down the streets of Tokyo with your hands laced together, is suddenly disappear into a flower shop as you pass by it, before emerging once more and handing you a bouquet of crimson carnations and white roses with a cheshire cat smile on his face.

“Your wedding bouquet,” he says.

“Oh, Satoru, they’re beautiful,” you muse, allowing your nose to absorb their earthy scent. “Thank you.”

You tug him by the hand that’s woven with yours, pulling him down to plant a kiss upon his cheek.

The next stop is a jewellery store, and you yelp as Satoru pulls you inside with him this time. 

“Pick whatever ring you like, baby,” he tells you as you stand before the glass case where thousands of crystals glimmer back at you, splayed out on a bed of white. “Just to wear until you pick your actual one.”

Blood warms your face. It’s not meant to be a brag. Even if he didn’t have generations of wealth in his bank account, he’d buy you as many rings as you wanted until you found the perfect one. For you, he would find a way.

Your eyes wander over every diamond, over gold and silver and platinum, and it’s not long at all before they all start to look the same. Not wanting to spend your entire wedding day inside a jewellery store, you land on a simple diamond-studded silver band and point it out to Satoru.

“That one?” he asks. 

You nod, a satisfied smile making your lips curl.

Satoru flags down the jeweller, a thin woman with shiny skin, requesting the ring you want. She tells him each of the five diamonds weighs 0.2 carats, making the ring a total of one carat, as if it’ll make a difference to either of you. He doesn’t ask her for the price, but she tells him it’s 550,000 yen—practically theft for someone from the Gojo clan. 

After picking out a matching plain silver band for himself, you and Satoru leave the store and continue strolling through the city. To everyone else, you look like no more than an enamoured couple like the millions of others in Tokyo, and while a part of Satoru feels like he wants to wander up to random strangers to brag to them that you’re his wife, another part cherishes this little secret between you two.

From the day he was born, Satoru Gojo’s wedding was to be a grand affair. Sorcerers from far and wide would gather to witness the expansion of the Gojo clan. It was to be a several day-long event, planned intricately by the higher ups without room for any say from the bride and groom. Satoru did not want that—not for himself, but especially not for you.

Now he laughs as he imagines the higher ups’ faces when they realise he has not only married but eloped behind their backs. Though he thinks he’ll keep his left hand in his pocket the next few times he pays them a visit, at least for a few weeks.

“What?” you ask. His grin spreads from his face to yours.

“Nothing. Are you hungry?” 

“Ugh, yes,” you say. Suddenly your empty stomach becomes even emptier, howling agonisingly loudly.

“Sushi Go?” 

“Please.” 

The nearest one is ten minutes away. When you get there, you sit in a booth next to the conveyor belt, with Satoru insisting on shoving himself into the seat next to you rather than across from you. As soon as his heat radiates into you, however, you feel like melting into him.

After ordering almost the entire menu despite your scolding, Satoru finds the ring boxes and pulls them out of the ribbon-tied bag from the jeweller. He takes your left hand, gently, as though you’re made of glass, and slides the glittering ring onto your fourth finger. He brings it to his lips, then his velvety lips kiss just above where the ring rests.

“Beautiful,” he says. He’s looking at your eyes, not the ring.

You twist it around your finger, lungs empty as it catches every ray of light that comes its way and tosses it back at your eyes. 

“It’s a little big, but I love it.”

“I’ll get you the perfect one, don’t worry,” he says. “To make up for no engagement ring.”

“You make me sound so materialistic,” you quip, taking his hand into yours and slipping the matching silver band onto his bony finger.

“Just spoiled,” he corrects.

You narrow your eyes at him, but it turns into hearts not a moment later. He makes it impossible.

“I love you, Satoru Gojo,” you say, holding up your hands as you lace your fingers together with his.

“I love you,” he says, and the smug, cocky front vanishes, and he bares himself, his true self, to you. “More than anything in this world. I’m gonna prove it to you every single day from now on.”

Your giggle is drenched in fondness. “You already do that.”

“Then I’ll do it even better. This is a promise of that,” he says, thumb stroking over the ring he put on your finger.

His eyes don’t hold an ounce of hesitation, of questioning, of doubt. Only truth.

Your food arrives, and you wish you could say you feel bad about how overtly gross you and Satoru are being, feeding sushi rolls to each other with twinkling eyes, but everything inside you is screaming with euphoria that you can’t bring yourself to care. 

You wipe a drop of soy sauce from the corner of his lips, and he stares at you like you put the sun and the stars and the moon in the sky.

Not to your surprise, you and Satoru don’t finish all of the food he ordered. One of the waiters offers to box up the leftovers, then returns with two paper bags and hands them to your husband, whose unoccupied hand takes yours once more.

He decides he wants to take you to the park. He’s not sure why. It just feels right, and all you want is to spend time with him, so you tell him the park sounds perfect. It’s only another fifteen minute walk, anyway.

When you get there, the emerald lawns are teeming with families, couples, friends. Children run as if they can fly, dogs chase after tennis balls like it is their life mission. Satoru whisks you away from it all however, taking you into the trees.

Nestled amongst the Japanese chinquapin and zelkovas, a cherry blossom spreads its branches out like arms, its blossoms like pink fingertips that flutter as the wind swims through them. Satoru sinks into the cushion of grass at the base of the tree, leaning his broad back against the trunk. Like a cat, you find your way into his lap and rest your head upon his chest, next to his heart. The way his arms wrap around you is instinct.

Sparrows and finches flit about the branches, dancing as they move from one tree to another. Two turtle doves perch together, huddling into the other even though the air is warm.

Even if you and Satoru do not stay bound together in this life, if death takes you or him early, one thing you know for certain—you’ll find him again in another life. Right now, however, you have him in this life, and nothing else matters.

dedicated to @ushiwhacka and @tetsuskei <3 i love u both

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo fanfic #gojo imagine #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru imagine #jjk x reader #jjk imagine #jjk fanfic #jjk x you #꒰ lovers. ꒱ — gojo

[kneelingshadowsalome]

this has been on my mind for a while, how would König react to a reader who was around when he was being bullied, not one of the bullies since I doubt he would forgive that even tho the sex would be nasty but like a girl who was on the side lines doing nothing and just hanging out with the bullies coming to him apologetically and wanting to make amends??

Oh what a delicious idea!

I meant to answer this with a quick reply but alas 🙄 this turned into a short drabble almost

She wasn’t one of the bullies, which means she’s not someone who König would want to actively terminate (I hc him in some of my darker fics as someone who may or may not have killed his childhood bullies... and/or his father, which means König can’t go back to Austria bc MEMORIES and also bc he has like a raging criminal record there). But she’s an onlooker, practically an enabler, and used to hang out with his bullies, oh dear. König wouldn’t be all too welcoming with her.

Chances are she was someone who König crushed on during school. Unattainable, he daydreamed about having her as his first girlfriend, but naturally that never happened... Now he’s suspicious to the point of being a little paranoid: he built a tough shell because of his past, so doe eyes and apologies won’t get you very far, even if König is intrigued. To be honest, his interest is piqued, but he won't let you see that in a million years.

Perhaps you reach out after a class meeting, some get together he never attended. You always wondered what happened to the cute, awkward nerd who sat behind you in class, the clumsy boy who talked of Rome, chivalry and knights while other boys wanted to be F1 drivers... Maybe you fantasized about asking him to help you with your history or math test, maybe you even blew him a kiss one time on dare to see if he'd walk straight into a wall (he did).

Maybe you dolled yourself up, just for him, excited to see König after over 10 years. To see if the awkward boy would still blush, to see what kind of man he has become... Chirp your regrets after a few blunts and some booze and see if he still fancied you.

But König never came. And of course he didn’t, that’s hardly a surprise. The regret within you builds until you bite the bullet and send a message to his old number, and after a few months, a reply finally arrives, but it’s not the most genial one.

König wants to meet you though… And the man, the thing he has become, makes it clear that he's not the shy awkward boy anymore.

You spend the whole evening trying to get over the sheer size of him, the lack of shaking hands, the distant cold stare with which he looks down at you. The fact that he works as a mercenary, that the boy who never hit anyone now kills people for money... The fact that he looks like someone who could wipe the floor with the young men you used to think were kinda cool.

König, however, is trying to decide what you want from him. Do you still think he’s a loser who never hit back because he wanted to be the better person? Do you think he’s a good for nothing man, even now, upon seeing that he finally succumbed to his hate?

Why do you even want to apologize after all these years?

Do you want an official pardon so that you can sleep your nights better? Or do you want to gawk at him because he chose to skip that stupid get together, perhaps gossip about him to the others and see if you could still find something to laugh at?

He’s the perfect gentleman during your “date”, offers to pay for the food and wishes you all the best. You can see the hurt in his eyes, of course – he wants to make you feel even worse about yourself by being such a good joe, so you break before him when he tries to leave, apologizing again, even crying in front of him.

“I just wanted to know if you’re happy,” you say. “I just hope that everything’s alright now…”

You lay your whole heart out in front of this man, but he's not the boy you used to know, not anymore.

He doesn’t tell you that he’s not happy; he never was. Neither does he heed the wishes of his darker self, wanting to tell you that he’d be happy for a while if you blew him in the restroom. He’s fucking better than that.

“We were just kids,” he says instead.

And that’s it: that’s the apology. But you can’t let him go, and neither can he, not when you humbly decided to come and rip all his wounds open.

Cue to a few months from the first date, you’re neck deep in love with him while König tells himself he’s only having fun. You could say he’s using you for sex; yes, he’s just dating this chick from high school... You’re just someone he comes to fuck and cuddle during leaves. It's nothing serious, no. He can do without serious for a while.

And he’s not going to fall for your charms, no matter how sweet, authentic and loving you are... You make yourself so fucking easy to love, but he's not going to fall for that. Any other woman he'd worship, but not you.

Not you.

Not you…

#könig angst #könig x reader #könig x you #sorry not even remotely sorry #lol the sex would still be nasty........ #my god this might just bring out the worst in him

[outerbankies]

you didn’t do anything wrong & squeeze my hand baby... hype to read these bestie😩🥵

new light: no surprises

nl masterlist

a/n: thank you for sending this in!!! (so very very long ago) (desperately hope whoever sent this in is still around to read it or will stumble across it one day) (feel like it wasn't what you imagined in sending these prompts, but i tried!!!) takes place in part 6 (??) after the porch swing talk but before the goodbye. yes let’s go with that and sorry for any retcon

Rafe Cameron insists on walking you to your parents’ front door every time he drops you off. It’s second nature to you, now, to wait as he opens his truck’s passenger door and shuts it behind you once he’s helped you out, his hand outstretched for yours, which has hardly touched a door handle since you began dating. He’s a romantic, big on good-night kisses, and he’ll always wait until you’re inside before he so much as turns around to start walking back to his truck.

It took some getting used to, and you’d passed the point where you thought he might give it a rest. But that never happened, and you’d come to learn you want to expect nothing less—not from him or from any other guy you’d plan to get serious with, which was hardly a thought your mind could conjure these days.

How could it, when it was always taken up with remembering the names of songs you think he’d like, or reminding yourself to change out the water in the seemingly endless vases of flowers stationed on your desk, your dresser and your night table, or by reading books he’d recommend to you only after he’d finished them—after many sessions tucked together on a beach towel under the shade of an umbrella.

But maybe just this once, you really wish he was more like your ex-boyfriend back at college, the one who dropped you off at the end of your driveway and sped away more nights than he didn’t.

Of course, that just wouldn’t be your boyfriend Rafe Cameron.

“What do you think about the mainland tomorrow?” he asks, his hand at the small of your back, the two of you climbing the steps of your parents’ porch, slowly, drawing out the moments before goodbye.

“I think I love that idea,” you decide, smiling as you think about it. 

“Let’s get the early boat,” he says. “Sarah told me about this new brunch spot.”

“I definitely trust her taste. She’s bougier than you,” you say, drawing away from him and toward the door, hand still connected to his.

“I’m not sure if I’m insulted by that,” Rafe says, pulling you back toward him before shifting his body to fit between you and the door, giving you no access to the knob. “But I am sure that I’m not ready for you to go inside yet.”

“You’re not?” you muse, slipping your arms up and around his neck. 

About a month ago, you’d be concerned about your giddiness for him being written all over your face. But Rafe’s cheeks were almost permanently tinged pink in your presence, and it only has the effect of making you want him more. 

“This dress is insane,” he says, leaning in for a peck only after his eyes sweep up your frame the way they had been doing all night. “You gonna leave your window open for me tonight?”

“Might close it early,” you shrug, pretending to ponder on it.

But Rafe is having none of it, lips catching yours in a way that should embarrass you when you know your dad’s home office has a street-facing window. “Really?”

“Y’know, gotta catch that early ferry and all.”

“What time should I come?” he murmurs against your lips, his arms constricting impossibly tighter around your waist. “Or we can skip brunch. Actually, fuck brunch and forget I said anything.”

“I’ll text you,” you say. “Alright? Just hang on a bit.”

“I’ll try,” he sighs, dropping one more kiss to your forehead as you reluctantly step away. “But no sweat. Get some sleep if you need to, sweetheart.” 

The front door flies open just as you’re making to push it in, your mother’s excited face appearing before you. Never in the history of the world has that been a good sign.

“I thought that was you two!” she says. “Rafe, a pleasure as always.” 

“You as well, Mrs. Y/l/n. I was just going.”

“Nonsense,” she says, before turning to you. “Y/n, your grandparents are here.”

You blink. “Why?”

She glances between you and Rafe, still exuberant, ignoring your question completely. “Have him come in and meet them, will you? They’ll be so excited.”

Your head is spinning, but you feel Rafe’s hand slip into yours, and you give him a squeeze for reassurance. For who, you aren’t sure. “Mom—sorry, when did they get here? I wouldn’t have went out tonight if I knew.”

“They surprised us. Now surprise them back,” she urges, turning before you answer, heels click-clacking across the foyer. She glances over her shoulder, one last enticement. “Peach pie.” 

You turn to Rafe, sighing with your face immediately buried into his chest.

His laugh reverberates. “C’mon, baby girl.”

“You don’t have to come in. I promise,” you say.

“I want to. I promise,” he answers, shrugging. “As long as it’s alright with you, it’s alright with me. Your mom’s side, right?”

Your eyes widen, thinking about the alternative. “Yes. Jesus, if it was my dad’s, we’d be back down the road already.”

You sigh, trying to steel your nerves with your eyes shut tight. The door was still open—you needed to get in there sooner or later.

“Y/n,” Rafe says, your full name falling off of his tongue and invoking in your body an involuntary reaction. He was more keen on pet names, you’d noticed, and shortening your name to the one only your friends called you. “Are you alright?”

“I’m alright,” you confirm, taking him by the hand again as you both face the entryway. Your far hand reaches up to grab at the crook of his elbow, both of your hands gripping, but not too tight.

“Are you? What’s our signal?”

You feel your eyebrows knit. “Our signal?”

“Yeah. Y’know, like a code word or something when you need an out. You and Dylan don’t have one?”

You think back to previous holidays, the eye contact made at the table, the kicks in your shins and the heavier sips when you realize you’re on the same page—that it’s time to get just drunk enough to be able to handle this without tipping anyone off. “I think our signal might just be alcohol.” 

“I’m not getting drunk in front of your dad.” 

You roll your eyes. “I know.”

“What about Kelce?” 

“What about him?” you ask. “We don’t have a signal either.”

“No, his name. The word. Just say ‘Kelce’ if you need me to dive bomb us out of the dining room,” he says. 

You shake your head, still racking your brain and prolonging the inevitable. “That won’t work. My grandma loves talking about Kelce.”

“Huh,” Rafe says, incredulous, his mouth twisting. “Imagine that.”

“Sorry,” you wince, squeezing his hand again. “Sorry—she just. We’ve been friends for so long. That doesn’t matter. They’re gonna love you.”

“Just do that,” he says, like he’s already moved on. “Just squeeze my hand, baby.”

You look down at where your hand is clasped in his, giving another experimental squeeze and having it returned.

He nods, a question in his eyes. “Got it?”

“Got it,” you say with a grateful smile, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “And you do it, too. You know, if she does bring up Kelce and you can’t handle it. She still talks about his prom tux.”

“Too soon, Y/l/n,” he mutters, leading you over the threshold. “Too fuckin’ soon.”

—

“No more,” Rafe groans, his hand on his stomach. “I might explode.”

You eat the last bit of peach pie off the fork you’d been offering to him, the both of you giggling as he wipes a bit from the corner of your lips. The way he licks his thumb after has you grateful your grandparents are already halfway back home—you know Rafe wouldn’t come back over later if he knew your grandparents were spending the night.

“You realize she’ll show up at Thanksgiving with, like, three of those now?” you say, setting the fork on the plate he’s holding, which he quickly puts on the table beside the couch before he leans back.

“Let her. I’ll wear an elastic band.”

“A little presumptuous,” you say. “Thinking you’ll get an invite to my mother’s Thanksgiving dinner.” 

Rafe looks temporarily affronted. “I—”

“M’joking, baby,” you say, kissing his cheek, legs thrown over his. “She’d kill me if I didn’t bring you. And now I think my grandparents would, too.”

“Cliff is chill as hell. I can’t believe your grandpa runs a nonprofit. That’s not very Figure 8 of him,” Rafe says.

You roll your eyes, burrowing your head into his chest all the same as he fails to hide any affinity, just as your grandmother had done with him. Appeasing the women in your family could never be further down on your list of priorities, especially when it came to your suitors. But you couldn’t help but feel something happy settle in your stomach, watching your mom exchange looks with her own mother as they watched Rafe. 

“Maybe that’s why they moved.”

“I guess I’m surprised,” he admits. “Your mom… she’s so…”

“Figure 8?”

“Is that okay to say?”

“Yeah. She is,” you say. “It’s kinda engrained. But I think she likes it that way.”

“You’re not like that,” he says, his thumb dragging down your shoulder and back again. “What was your grandpa saying about a job next year?”

“Hm?” you say, snuggling down further into him, eyes starting to droop. 

“I dunno,” he says quieter. “I thought Cliff was talking about you coming to work for him next year.”

You heard him correctly the first time, but you honestly hoped he’d drop it. “Yeah. Just newsletters, digital. Stuff like that.”

“That sounds cool,” he says, and you can hear him trying in vain to keep his voice even.

“He said I’d get my own office,” you admit. “And a title.”

Rafe perks up slightly. “Oh yeah?”

“Senior nepotism associate.”

“Get out of here,” he laughs, tugging on the strand of your hair that he’d been twirling around his finger, a bit of the tension breaking between you. “That shouldn’t bother you. And it figures that’s your bloodline. All those ocean cleanups you dragged us to.”

“Seem to remember you showing up to…” you trail off, counting on your hands. “1, 2… let’s see, all of them?” 

He bats at your hands. “Alright, alright. Have you thought about it though?”

“A little,” you sigh, resigning yourself to the conversation you didn’t want to have. “I know a few of his employees. And I don’t think I’d mind working for him. Their mainland office isn’t a far walk from the ferry in. It’d be great, really.” 

“But…” he pries, tugging on the strand again.

“But,” you sigh. “I don’t know. I still don’t wanna close myself off to the idea of staying in California. I love it there. I’m making ins with Agnes and her network, I know it.”

He nods, going quiet for a while as you both gaze out at the water. “It’s nice that you have options, though.”

You turn to him then, taking his far hand and holding it between yours, fiddling with the cigar band on his ring finger. “It’s a whole year away, Rafe.”

“I know,” he says, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “Hey, I know. I just don’t like thinking about being away from you.”

“Well we’re… Rafe, we’re gonna be apart,” you say. “At least for a year. And that doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

He nods again. “I guess... this summer, it’s just been easy to forget all of that. That I’m going to Georgia and you’re going to California, and you might not be coming back. But I am. And even though I know that... I don’t know what it says about me that I’m picturing having you here with me all the damn time.”

You’ve taken the time to picture it, too. It’s hard not to when most of the summer has been interrupted bliss, and you’ve been toying with the idea of coming back long before Rafe re-entered your picture.

“This is why I didn’t wanna talk about it,” you say morosely, beside yourself when you feel your tear ducts sting.

“Baby,” Rafe whispers. “Hey, baby. I’m sorry I brought it up. I just thought with how he was talking about it, I don’t know, it sounded like you were really considering it.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Rafe,” you tell him, willing your tears not to fall. But now that he’s onto you, that he’s reading the emotions in your eyes and feeling what’s weighing on your heart, it’s like your body decides it’s allowed to fall apart. You sniffle. “I don’t know what I’m considering. But I don’t like thinking about being away from you either.”

He thumbs away some tears, before looking back out across the horizon, the sky somehow almost an inky black color when it had just been lit up in hues of orange and pink minutes ago. 

“Hate it when you do that,” he says, his arm dropping around your shoulders again.

“What?” you ask.

“Cry because of me.”

You don’t have anything to say to that, and if you tried to speak again you might completely lose it, so you settle for slipping your hand back into his, squeezing as tight as you can.

Because you know this isn’t the first—and certainly won’t be the last—time that you’ll cry over Rafe Cameron.

#answered #new light hcs #quick question is this good #rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine

[lushaletta]

hide with me / james potter

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

warnings: mild swearing, mentions of mental health/anxiety, reader has a panic attack

summary: poorly written drabble in which you have awful anxiety and a lovely james.

a/n: i feel like this feels unfinished i’m so sorry… i clearly lost steam by the end but i hope you all like it! i am such a sucker for some james

⋆ ࣪.  ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖࣪ ˖࣪ ∗

It feels like the world is caving in on you. The ceiling is about to fall down and crush you under its weight.

The voices of those around have all mixed and faded into each other into a jumble of noise. You don’t quite know what Lily is saying, not even sure what Marlene is doing; you can hardly see anything.

A laughable attempt at taking a breath has you panicking more and you stumble out of Alice’s living room and onto her front patio as hot, salty tears sting your face.

The reason as to why you’re suddenly in this state has you confused. One moment, you’re fine and the next, you’re in full breakdown mode.

Fresh air. That’s usually all you need. You let the scent of pine fill your lungs, grounding yourself on the railing. You’re fine, you try to repeat to yourself. You’re fine.

“Hey,” a voice calls out. You whip around and spot a head of dark curls and pretty hazel eyes.

Him. You don’t know whether you’re happy or sad about his presence. There’s a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and he looks gorgeous as ever.

You’ve liked James a long time. Much too long. He’s liked Lily for longer.

You’re sure he knows about your feelings, you’d done a poor job at keeping them secret, and you’d be surprised if at this point he was unaware.

Remus knows because you’d confided in him first. He was sweet about it, stroking your hair and whispering kind words in your ear. Sirius knows from the “powers of deduction”, as he likes to call it.

“Hi,” he says, putting the cig between his fingers, flicking the ash off.

“Hi,” you reply, a little breathless.

He walks over to you, assessing your state. “Are you alright?”

He’s always been awfully caring. It’s half the reason you like him more than what’s healthy.

James knows your ins and outs. Your family history, all your favourite movies, how many freckles you have. He’s committed every part of you to memory.

He treats you like you’re fragile, like a porcelain doll. As if you’d break when dropped.

Maybe it’s self-righteousness. Maybe he’s doing it out of pity. Though, in this moment, it feels anything but.

“Just fine,” you whisper, staring at him so deeply it’s embarrassing.

“You ran off.”

You laugh a humourless laugh. “Did I?”

James nods, looking like he’s inspecting you. It makes you feel a little self-conscious.

A smile creeps across your face. It’s really only to conceal the awkwardness. “What?”

“I think we’re past the point of pretending everything is alright when it isn’t,” he says, matter-of-factly. “Will you tell me what happened?”

The bluntness of his words makes you nervous. He’s not typically so forward.

“I was overwhelmed.”

His arms lace around your shoulders. “Okay,” he whispers. “Okay, let’s go, then,” he says, decidedly.

It’s a tempting offer. Being dragged away from all the noise and instead spending the night with James, but you don’t want to disrupt his evening with your feelings. He likes these people. He’s comfortable with them. He’s not like you, you say to yourself.

“No. I’m fine, James, really. Please don’t worry yourself.”

“I was kind of getting tired anyway. We can grab food and you can sleep at my place for the night, hm?” he insists, putting out his cig.

He’s doing it again. That thing where he’s just being so considerate and kind to the point that it bothers you.

“I..” you trail off, looking at the stars instead of his eyes. They’re both really beautiful.

“I’d like for you to come with me, sweetheart. Let’s get away. Just for a bit,” he tries again, gently tilting your face towards his.

You’re going to come with him. You were going to the first time he asked, no matter what, but you need to hear that he wants it.

You crack a smile. “Okay.”

Before midnight, you’re in his car. It’s a bit beaten up and the engine takes a couple of tries before it starts, but it’s a charming vehicle. He’s ordering fries for you, doing all the talking you’re so hesitant to.

There are muffled voices over the speaker. “Just a moment.” James turns to you. “Want a coke, baby?”

You nod, tapping your fingers on the window and fumbling with the button of your seatbelt.

He hands you a paper bag.

“Thank you, James. I’m sorry you’re stuck with me instead of with Lily at the gathering.”

His face contorts into a look of slight confusion as he grabs a fry from your hand. “Why would I want to be with Lily?” It’s not that he doesn’t want to hang out with Lily, it’s just that you could’ve asked about Sirius or Remus or even Frank.

“I mean, you like her, don’t you?” you say, voice quivering. Afraid of the answer.

“She’s a nice girl.” It’s not a no. You’re crushed. You nod your head like you’re unsurprised.

A forced smile makes its way onto your lips. “You two would look good together,” you say, hushed.

His brow quirks. “What? No.” It comes out a little sharp, and he immediately softens. “No, it’s not like that. Sorry.”

“Oh.” You hate yourself for it, but you feel your body immediately relax in relief.

Now he’s the uneasy one. His fingers are tapping on the steering wheel and he’s clearly purposely avoiding your gaze.

“Listen—“

“—I’m sorry,” you cut him off. “Sorry, you first.”

The car comes to a stop at some dark parking lot. James turns to face you. “What are you apologising for?”

Even you’re not too sure. It’s a mix of a few things; Lily, forcing him to stay with you, your anxiety, interrupting him, even. A general apology for your.. you-ness.

“All this. I just want you to be happy, James. I’m really sorry for always making you do this. Comfort me whenever I’m overwhelmed like that.”

He blinks. “I’m happy when I’m with you, sweetheart. Why don’t you understand that I enjoy doing this? I love when we escape from those dumb gatherings and do shit like this. I love it. I love you, damn it.”

Your heart drops. No, it stops. He had to be drunk. He was driving under the influence, surely. A crime. That’s a felony. Your head was absolutely spinning.

You don’t know what to do but stare blankly at him as his face asks you to just say something.

“What?”

“I love you! I don’t even know where you got that whole Lily thing. I love you! It’s always been you!”

Well, shit.

You lower your voice to a whisper. “So do something about it, Potter.”

And he does.

#🎞 by.ivy #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #hp imagine #harry potter oneshot #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter x reader #james potter oneshot #james potter fanfiction #james potter #marauders oneshot #marauders fanfiction #the maraunders map

[suggs444]

Bad For Buisness:

William Afton/Steve Raglan x Reader

Sypnopsis: You find out your boss, Steve, who is also your secret lover, has a false identity. As well as an unknown history. You attempt to be reasonable, to set things right, but your boss .. well, he knows you all too well.

TW: swearing, degrading, manipulating, implied sexual actions.

Authors note: Hi, Suggs here. So this is my first x reader that I’ve written in a long long time. And it’s my first ever William Afton based one too. I literally saw the movie and I was 🙈🙈 whenever peepaw was on screen. Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy and lmk if you want more / a part two. Thanks for reading !! <33

Gif by brotherdusk

..

“I should tell everyone!”

You protest, boldly, standing on the other side of Afton’s desk. Your arms cross in an attempt to assert your dominance in this situation - which is rare. William was usually the one with the upper hand. You were foolish to think otherwise, even now.

There he sat with his sunken frame, slouched in his office chair, hands loosely intertwined in his lap. Brows raised in mocking surprise, almost expecting, as if waiting for you to come to your senses. He stares, and you find yourself stuck for words.

You gulp, hard. Frozen in his icy gaze.

“I mean — you’re lying to our consumers! To your staff - to me! Your names not Steve Raglan ..” Your words drift off, lacking much defence and reason.

“It’s bad for business.”

You continue, proudly, pointing your chin upward. As though that sentence completely justified your debate.

William’s head tilts slightly,

“Since when do you care about business quality, y/n?”

You didn’t care. He knew it, and he knew you all too well. Well enough to know you didn’t give a shit about the business, or anyone else. You were upset about not knowing every little detail about him. You’re obsessed. Needy, he knows. Only the two of you mattered. The secret of your intimacy. The sneaking off, the inappropriate relationship. Now, that? That was bad for business.

“Hm?” He presses, condescendingly, brows raising more while waiting for an answer as he sits forward out of his slouch. His exposed forearms coming to lean against the table.

You’re quiet, already. Defeated.

He sucks on his teeth.

“That’s what I thought.”

He leans back into his chair with an exhale, shaking his head.

“I’ve done some things, y/n.” He confesses, “-bad things.”

You can only stare at him.

He pushes himself out of his chair, eyes remaining pinned to yours. You knew your boss wasn’t a good man, fuck, maybe that’s what drew you to him, but you hadn’t expected this.

“What things?”

“Doesn’t matter.” He cuts you off, stern. Stern enough that you know not to push it any more. You bite your tongue, suddenly feeling small by his towering height. William wasn’t a necessarily attractive man, or at least not for everyone. He was older than you. Much older. But clever, so very clever - and wise. Something about his stability, the way he carried himself. The reassurance he gave you and the praise. You could hardly resist him.

“Had to cover my tracks. Tie up loose ends, do you understand? That’s my business, it’s need to know and you don’t.” His voice, a nasal drawl as he slowly rounded the desk, the pads of his fingers drawing along the old wood as he reached you.

“And I certainly don’t need you,” he pauses, pressing his torso against your back. You can feel the heat of his breath on your neck, his scent, a mix of cheap cologne and tobacco.

“-running your sweet mouth and spilling my secrets.” He continues. You melt against him despite the firmness of his tone. You were a slave to your desires. Only he could make the meanest things sound so indulging.

You hum at the closeness. Trying to remain strong headed despite your vision clouding from the intensity of the lustful haze you had for this man. You weren’t weak, just devoted.

“Turn around, sweetheart.”

You do.

“Do you understand?”

You nod stubbornly. He tuts,

“Use your words, y/n.”

“I understand.”

He shoots you a unsatisfied look.

You sigh, “I understand, sir.”

He smiles then, cockily, knowing he had won this time. His eyes creasing beneath his glasses.

“That’s my girl.” He coos, a warm hand coming to cup your cheek. Your eyes close, savouring the action, leaning into his palm. He was always so busy, so intimacy came slim. A rarity. You learnt to enjoy the small gestures.

The warmth was gone the next second. Opening your eyes to find him returning to his seat. You whined softly, turning to him as he settled back in his chair - instantly going back to his paperwork.

“That’s it?” You plead.

His eyes shot up to you over his glasses. Almost surprised you were still there. He sighs through his nose.

“Tell you what,” he lifts his head to give you his full attention.

“You’ve got the rest of this week to prove you can keep your mouth shut. I wanna trust you, y/n. I can do that, can’t I?”

You nod, “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Mr Afto-“ You stop yourself, realising you’re using his real name, his secret name. He’s glaring.

“-Mr Raglan.” You correct yourself, smiling wearily.

“Much better. Keep that up, and I’ll make up for lost time. I’ll give you what you need.”

You sigh sweetly, nodding. The mere thought of that making your knees weak.

“I won’t let you down, I promise.”

You reassure, shooting him one last smile as you turn and leave.

The week can’t end soon enough.

#william afton #william afton x reader #fnaf #fnaf movie #matthew lillard #steve raglan #five nights at freddy's

[hive-sight]

Changes 2 and Domestication

Greetings Sentients. With the passing of a few Lums, the changes presented in Lumina have become more… pronounced. This one can hardly be in the research deck without encountering Lumina examining the social culture of Terrans of many different varieties. They truly appear to have taken to this role in ways that none of this crew could have predicted!

Raxor has taken to research of their own. They have begun studying the various fauna of Sol-3. One phenomenon Raxor has discovered is the concept of “domestication.” This is the process through which a wild creature interacts with a sentient race in such a way that, over generations, changes to the creatures DNA are shown to make interaction with the sentient easier.

One common change presented in most examples of domestication, is that the creature will become smaller. Raxor has taken an interest in the creature from Sol-3 known as a wolf. Quadrapedal, furred apex predators that exist in a pack structure. Perhaps the creature’s existing pack structure made for an easy victim of the domestication process, as the domestication of the wolf was the first recorded instance of this phenomenon.

Initially, wolves and early Terrans competed for food. This would become especially egregious during the harsher cold periods known as “winter.” The wolves would invade Terran settlements to search for the stores of food the Terrans had built up to sustain themselves. Sometimes these invasions would be successful. Sometimes the invading wolf or wolves would be killed. Sometimes the invaders would kill a Terran.

Records seem to be unreliable, but one theory is that a settlement discovered that, if they left some amount of game away from the stores, the wolves would take that and leave the rest of the settlement be. Over time, the settlement became the default feeding area of the wolves.

The next part is mostly speculation. Perhaps another predator had invaded the settlement. This predator had been found by the Terrans and a battle had ensued. The wolves, hearing the struggle and realizing that their new providers had been in danger, ran through the barriers into the settlement and, to the surprise of the Terrans, began fighting alongside them against this shared threat.

This one knows that may be a dramatized view of what happened, but the important part to realize is that some event happened which forced the two species to work alongside each other. Then calmer wolves, more willing to work with Terrans, were welcomed into the settlements permanently, while more aggressive wolves were sent back out into the wild. This selective breeding of the calmer individuals eventually begot evolutionary changes in the wolf to the point it could only be a new species. A species that Terrans have colloquially named “dogs.” Raxor found this entire idea to be utterly fascinating and is now hoping that the Terrans will allow them to have a dog of their own.

While this one had never heard of the process of domestication before, this could purely be due to other species having never considered this. Xylokthians, for example, keep and breed the Xylo-palm flies as they produce the staple crop of Xylopthia that is roughly akin to Terran honey. But never had this one considered that, prior to Xylokthian interference, that the palm flies could have been an entirely different species. Perhaps some event in the past meant that the ancient palm flies could not survive in the wild while the protected individuals could thrive. Or perhaps, regrettably, the ancient Xylokthians did not allow any temperamental individuals back into the wild as the Terrans did with the wolves.

The Terrans history is beginning to make this one believe that there is more to this one’s own history than they are familiar with. It is unsettling…

But, nevertheless, on this, TD 10th of June, 2030, XD 4682C 3A 30L, awaiting the next revelation, this is Elysia of Xylopthia, signing off.

#hfy #humans are weird #earth is a deathworld #humans are space orcs #haso #humans are space oddities #HiveSight #alien blog #xenobiology #speculative biology #PoT 009 #Perspective on Terra #aliens #space australia #Xenobiology #posted 7/31/23 #By the Queen #I wonder how it tastes #Lumina of Xylopthia #Elysia of Xylopthia #Xylokthians #Terrans #Raxor of Xylopthia #Does Raxor understand that a dog would not survive in space? #How would this one obtain “kibbles”

[mikhailwrites]

Waiting for Connection 12 / Ghost x Soap

Ghost is retired and plays milsim videogame. Soap is still in the force and sometimes plays that same videogame...

Sorry, I forgot to upload it here, too! On the other hand, that means less waiting time for another chapter for you!

Previous chapter | AO3

Ghost returns home, but it’s different now. Too quiet.  Too barren. He’s never noticed before. Didn’t have any point of reference. He does now. Stripey brushes against Simon’s legs, and the man bends down to scratch the cat behind the ear. “You liked him, mate?”

“Meow!”

Ghost has no idea what that means. Simply takes it as ‘yes’ and smiles.

He takes out his phone, an old, cheap thing he barely ever uses. Hits the redial. There’s only a handful of numbers on the phone, even less so in the call history.

He hears the phone ring, and then there’s a click. “Simon?” It sounds a little confused, which is hardly surprising. Ghost is very much not the bloke that would simply call to ask how’s life.

“Gaz… What am I doing?” Simon crosses the room slowly, sinking on the futon he hasn’t yet bothered to magick back into the sofa.

“Have I ever seemed clairvoyant to you, mate?” Gaz chuckles. There’s some rustling in the background. Presumably, Gaz is moving into some more private space.

Ghost chuckles back. “Guess not.”

“Guess again,” Gaz deadpans, “how were the pints with MacTavish yesterday?”

“What? How the fuck…?” Ghost frowns, not even trying to hide his surprise.

“I can’t answer that question,” Kyle utters the line that all SAS know better than their own names. Burned on the back of their minds, etched in their muscles. Tattooed with invisible ink all over their bodies.

It’s an answer and not an answer at the same time. With a single line, Kyle has confirmed that he’s close to Soap without betraying anything. His commanding officer, most likely, and isn’t that hilarious?

“It was fine. I’ve let him crash at my place,” Simon volunteers a bit of intel in exchange.

“Really? Just like that? Back when you still served, nobody except Price even knew where you were living.”

“I didn’t want any bloody Christmas cards,” Simon tries to deflect with a joke.

Gaz lets it go. It’s an ancient history by now, and there are more pressing matters he’s interested in, anyway. “I hope you haven’t crashed him on the first date; that would be ruthless even for you,” Kyle’s smirk can be heard in his voice, but there’s an underlying tone of seriousness, too.

Ghost groans, frustrated. With himself, mostly. “No, of course not. I’m not an idiot. But…”

“But you thought about it, haven’t you?”

That man knows him way too well. Dangerously so. Of course, he thought about it. The face, the body, the way John moved, self-assured, a little cocky, not bothering to conceal what he is. And then the talking, the flirting. Especially the flirting. Without that, Simon would’ve been fine. Mates. Friends. Whatever. Simple, safe. Well, think again. Fuck! “Yeah, I did. And I feel like a bloody cradle-snatcher for it.”

Gaz snorts. “He ain’t that young, and you ain’t that old, Ghost. You know what he does for a living and how it is, so I’m gonna save my breath and spare you the lectures. Have fun, Simon.”

As if he needs the lectures. “That’s all?”

“Does it even matter what I say, Ghost? It’s not life or death business. You’re both adults, if not entirely reasonable. As long as your thing doesn’t fuck up my thing, we’re good.”

“You didn’t really help me, you know,” Simon notes bemusedly.

“If you wanted a voice of reason, I’m afraid you didn’t call the right number. I guess Laswell’s would be what, two numbers down?”

“One.”

“Well, there you go.”

“Thank you, Kyle,” Simon sighs.

“Anytime, mate. And show the kid some neat tricks while you’re at it, will you?”

“I have no idea what kept Price from strangling you,” Simon huffs a laugh.

“My charming personality, obviously,” there are some muffled voices in the background then. “Gotta run, duty calls and all that. Just… enjoy the life a little, old man.”

“Is that an order?”

“Might as well make it one. Cheers, Ghost.”

Ghost lets himself fall back, sprawling on the futon. Stripey is with him and subsequently on him the next second, stepping on Simon’s chest before he lies down. Kyle was right. If Ghost wanted a voice of reason, Gaz wasn’t exactly the right person to call.

So, if he’s read the situation right, and would like to take it further, what would the next step be?

#Kyle is master enabler #Ghost has it bad #But he doesn't yet fully realise #His cat does #call of duty #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghost x soap #ghoap #ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #kyle gaz garrick

[incorrectmahabharatquotes]

History denial (yes we were definitely colonized by the Muslim invaders who broke and looted our temples and forcefully converted and massacred many of our people, taking our temples back is a decolonization movement as pointed out by that other anon). Then Kashmir is an integral part of India denial... how can you even say that.

I'm myself a Hindu and a queer, and reading your views came as an unpleasant surprise. Please go do some reading, and educate yourself about how reclaiming temples isn't about hating other communities. Muslims and other minorities can and have been living in peace with Hindus for centuries. What the invaders did was wrong, and acknowledging that doesn't make Hindus Muslim haters.

You answered that other anon with no reasoning, just that whatever happened, happened before your time. All vibes no research or learning.

Unfollowing. I can make Mahabharat quotes myself.

Tipu Sultan famously destroyed temples as well as donated heavily to temples.

You tell me what to think of that.

Temples have been the site of politics since time immemorial. They were the storehouses of public engagement. And that's why they were attacked. And if we draw this logic to today: Religion is in itself politics. You cannot seperate your celebration of the Ram temple from what it really signifies: The destruction of what is presumed to be a mark of colonization.

Agreed, Muslim rulers did demolish temples. But you take one look at the bulldozer politics of today and tell me: Who is being held accountable here? Are the poor Pasmanda and lower caste muslims, who barely have enough space for themselves to live the descendants of Mahmud of Ghazni? Did they inherit the wealth of whatever was looted from the Somnath temple?

Also tell me one thing: why did the Supreme court not conclude on whether there was a temple structure under the mosque, and still give the go signal? Why was the government assigned priest murdered for stating that the Ram Mandir was purely political? Why were there many 'Ram Janmabhoomi' sites before the Babri Masjid issue? And this is not ancient history, dear anon, this was hardly a generation back.

All I ask of you is to engage critically with the world around you. Yes, celebrate Ram within your house, Mod S and I will not break into your house and laugh at you. But take one look around you as to how your celebrations are actually built on others' misery.

Oh, and by the way: if we as a nation were really decolonising.......why are massive corporations kicking Adivasis of their lands in Aarey, Hasdeo (where our dear Adani is trying to 'develop' coal mines), Gadchiroli, and many many many many places where displacement happens through casteist Panchayat meetings which are held under the supervision of the State (which are not done in the presence of the people actually affected by such projects).

In my head it means one thing: The Ram Mandir is only a carrot waved in front of us to distract us from the real State Violence that goes on. And personally, I think that's a very disrespectful way of using a god. Its actually.....saddening.

Thank you for protecting your peace and unfollowing us, though! I wish you farewell on your internet journey

-Mod G

---------

Hello, Anon-Who-Is Unfollowing-And-Have-Decided-to-Announce-Your-Departure-Because-You-Wanted-Our-Attention,

Well, you have my attention. But it seems like I don't have yours because you have somehow managed to only read one paragraph selectively and completely gloss over everything else.

If you had read what I said clearly, you would have clearly seen the part where I said that the political majority CANNOT claim reclamation because YOU ARE NOT OPPRESSED. YOU HAVE ALL THE POWER. Do you understand this? Or has any hint of nuance completely managed to escape you? YOU, AS A SELF-PROFESSED HINDU, ARE NOT BEING OPPRESSED FOR YOUR HINDU IDENTITY IN THIS COUNTRY. YOU IN NO WAY ARE EVEN A LITTLE BIT HARMED BY A TEMPLE BEING DESTROYED CENTURIES AGO.

You want to talk about decolonisation? Let's talk about how the term "Hindu" that you're so proud of is actually a very recent term and is actually only a thing because the European colonisers just wanted an easy religious box to put us all in. If you're really so gung-ho about decolonisation, please decolonize yourself fully and throw away this term too. While we're at it, let's also examine why your decolonisation efforts are so selective?

"I'm myself a Hindu and a queer". I notice you conveniently skipped over the "dalit" part of my identity that actually might have led to a massive difference in lived experience in this country. I also talked about reparation to the "lower" castes. You skipped that too.

What the invaders did was wrong, and what you're doing is wrong too. Their wrongs don't mean that you are automatically right.

I gave you all my reasoning, told you everything. You skimmed through them and paid attention to the only part that you wanted to focus on.

Thank you for unfollowing, I hope you have a good day.

-Mod S

#mod replies #ask reply #asks #mod: g #mod: s

[bluegalaxygirl]

Ghost ship (Zosan X reader)

Plot: One day while out at sea a strange fog rolls in form out of nowhere almost making them crash into a torn up ship.

warning: Violence, strong language, blood and skeleton's.

Zoro x Sanji X Reader, poly relationship, established relationship, reader is GN

"Guy's hurry" Nami's voice yells out as every member of the crew rushed around the deck of the sunny hoisting the sails, tying ropes and forcing the ship in different directions. You could hardly see a hand in front of your face form the sudden fog that rolled in covering the sunny in a matter of seconds. The warm air turned into a cold wind and the only light you could see came from the lights on the ship "TURN Left" Nami yelled out spotting another ship that was floating in the water, It wasn't moving, most of its masts broken and fabric torn to shreds. Franky turned the wheel of the ship as fast and as hard as he could to avoid the stationary vessel Luffy and Robin using their devil fruit powers to stop the sunny form getting damaged. Finally, getting the Sail fabric tied up your ship slowed down coming to a stop alongside the beaten up vessel which in your opinion shouldn't even be above water, the wood was rotting away and there were so many holes that it amazed you how water wasn't taking over the ship. The fog seemed to clear a bit now that you were all next to it but it felt a lot colder.

"Hay is anyone alive over there?" Luffy yelled Nami jumping on him and covering his mouth "Shut up. we don't know who did this" she whispers angry at her captain for being so reckless. "Its very old... i dont think anyone would be alive" Robin steps closer to Nami and Luffy looking over the ship. Your captain manages to pry Nami's hand off his mouth and giver her a pout. "It shouldn't be floating. oh! no what if it's a ghost ship" Usopp yells freezing up along with chopper. "Calm down" you sigh patting usopp's back "So Nami, what do we do?" you ask turning your attention to the navigator who lets go of Luffy and crosses her arms over her chest "We can't keep going until this fog lets up, so we'll have to stay put for now... also if this ship is old maybe there's something valuable on it" Her eyes glimmer in anticipation making you and Robin giggle at her "You want to go on there?" The sniper yells pointing at the ship "Well you can leave me out of it" he huffs earning a laugh from Luffy "I'd like to look around too" Robin nods placing her finger on her chin thinking about all the history she could find on an old ship. "Yea lets go" Luffy yells out hopping off the sunny and landing on the damaged ship.

It was easy to pick out who went and who didn't you, Nami and Robin wanted to go really bad while Usopp, Chopper, Brook and Franky refused for their own reasons. "I'll come with you, here love take my coat" Sanji smiles giving you one of his warm coats helping you put it on placing a small kiss on your cheek "Don't get into too much trouble" Zoro smiles walking over to you two "Your not coming?" You ask surprised but the sword mans yawn told you all you needed to know, he was woken up form his nap to deal with all of this. "Don't catch a cold" Sanji smiles walking with you, Nami and Robin to the broken ship. Since the ship was on the same level as the sunny Franky set up a small bridge so you could all easily cross Giving you and Robin a lantern before you cross. The waves were smooth so there wasn't much shakiness "Luffy, where are you?" Nami calls out looking along the deck not seeing her captain "Great" she sighs not getting an answer "Im sure he's fine" Robin smiles starting to look around the ship being careful where she stepped as the wood planks bellow her creaked.

Sanji helped you down form the bridge, it till amazed you how this ship was still standing "Im going to head into the captains room" Robin nods walking off "You shouldn't go alone" Nami yells wanting to follow but doesn't "Sanji, why don't you go with her and I'll go with Nami. i'm interested in what's bellow deck" You suggest making the cook look down at you with concern, he didn't want to leave you but he also didn't want Robin to go off on her own. Placing a hand on his shoulder and kiss on his cheek you gave him a reassuring smile telling him without words that you would be fine. Sanji nods kissing your lips before following after Robin yelling at her to wait up. "So bellow deck?" Nami asks looking a little more scared now that she's on the ghost ship "Don't worry I'll protect you" you laugh starting to walk to the steps leading down under the deck "I-I don't need your protection" The navigator yells running behind you and grabbing your coat belt to stay close hoping you don't notice.

Bellow deck was very dark and even with the lantern in your hand it was hard to see. Nami stayed close looking around as you both walked holding the lantern as far out in front of you as you could. The sight before you surprised you, at first you thought this was a cargo ship but under the deck was a large stage and dance floor with tables and chairs all over the place, damaged paintings lined the walls and several doors were either blocked by tables or where torn apart. Walking further in you spotted candles lining the room so you walked over a lite one only for all the other candles in the room to light up as well, Nami jumped at the sigh wrapping her arms around your waist. You let out a giggle as Nami glares at you "Im not scared" she whispers mainly to herself before pulling away form you "These paintings aren't worth anything" she sighs looking around the beaten and broken room trying to find anything of value, you join her in scanning the room spotting something shiny in one of the rooms "What's that?" you ask catching Nami's attention turning to see what your looking at, her eyes light up and a smile appears on her face making her way over with you following behind.

The broken wooden door swung open raveling a long hallway with several corpses lining the hall way, both you and nami froze at the sight, these body's were fresh unlike the ship that they were standing on, the shiny metal came form one of the men's coats, a very old silver medal that looks like it came form one of the great wars but how is that possible. Nami bent down and placed her hand on the medal only for the man to gasp wide-eyed and grab her hand causing both of you to scream out in terror. The man gasps for air looking up at Nami and you try to speak, Nami pulls away her hand slipping away from the old injured man. You take the coat off of you and place it on the man's chest thats bleeding badly "Nami, Get chopper now" you yell trying to snap the navigator out of her fear "W-What? oh! ok" Nami nods running off almost bumping into Sanji and Robin who came running down the stairs "Nami-swan what's wrong?" Sanji asks seeing her running past them "we need chopper" Her voice calls out heading up to the deck and over to the bridge.

"It's ok. we're here to help" you sooth the man the fear in his eyes fading away to hope "Y/n" Sanji's voice appears behind you spotting you on the floor holding his coat to the mans chest "oh no" Robin gasps looking down the hallway "Check for survivors" you order, the two nodding and going past you down the hall checking the people. "P-Pirate's" the man bellow you croaks out. "Is that who did this to you?" you ask earning a nod from him, giving him a sad look you took his hand in yours as a sign of comfort. Chopper comes running up, medical bag in hand to help. Seeing the man against the wall doctor Chopper gets to work helping you stop the bleeding and giving the man some pain killers. "Chopper" Luffy's voice yells out form behind you running down form one of the other hallways carrying a guy who's bleeding. "Luffy, there you are" you yell back as Luffy stops in the door way looking over the guy you and chopper is helping out "What happened here?" he asks a spike of anger seeps through his words. "Other Pirate's" at your words the captains grip tightens on the man in his arms.

An hour later your crew only managed to find two more survivors taking them all onto the sunny and into Chopper's medical room fixing them up and letting them rest while the rest of you joins Luffy on the deck who was sulking on the ground as Robin explained what she had found out. The damaged ship was attacked by pirates centuries ago, It was taking solders and their families back home after one of the great wars but pirates attacked and killed everyone before the navy showed up and blew up both ships. "So how did those people end up in there?" Zoro asks confused his arm around your shoulder holding you close. Robin to shrugs as Usopp and brook cower "S-so it really is a g-ghost ship" they both stutter clinging to each other "Will you two stops that and Brook why are you scared your a skeleton" Nami yells pointing at the two of them making them cling to each other more making the rest of the crew laugh. A strong cold breeze blows thru catching you all off guard the thick fog from around both ships closing in, Zoro pulls you closer his warm body stopping you form feeling too much of the chill while Sanji takes a step behind Zoro feeling a large chill run down his body." What?" you asks only to hear a loud bang as the door to the doctor's office slams open and a man fly's out hitting his back against the railing. In shock, you watch as the man Luffy saved looking worse than before stand up ripped cloth and almost gray skin, he didn't look like a man anymore more like a corpse.

"Chopper" Zoro yells leaving you with sanji and runs up the stairs as chopper comes out in arm point form kicking the guy again as he lunges at him. Luffy runs after Zoro ready to fight only to get kicked back by a large man who lands on the ship's deck with a thud. A very disheveled looking corpse stood there in old pirate attire one arm and one leg complacently bone the joints being held together by fog. Around the ship other's smaller but of the same look jumped onto the ship bearing their weapons "All must die" The corpse you assume to be the captain spoke in a very deep but brittle voice. Starting to fight alongside your crew, Zoro and Chopper kept the wounded people inside the doctor's office safe stopping the corpse's form trying to get in but no matter how much Zoro cut the limbs came back and attacked themselves back. Sanji joined you to help fight as the large captain went after Luffy the two throwing punches at each other. Luffy managed to kick the captains head off only for it to fly back to the body being carried by the mist and reattach itself. You didn't know what was going on and how this was happening but asking questions at a time like this wasn't a good idea.

One of the corpse's got a good hit on you sending you flying onto the ground. Sanji growled under his breath and kicked the corpse off the ship hearing a splash as it hit the water. "Are you ok love?" The cook asks running over and helping you to your feet looking you over for any injuries "Im fine don't worry" you nod before going back to fighting the undead corpse's. Everyone could see Luffy getting frustrated and his yells of anger weren't helping the situation "Anyone have any ideas?" Usopp yells out trying to avoid a sword being swung at him "Nami could you do something about the fog?" Robin asks using her devil fruit powers to restrain some corpse while Franky watches her back. The navigator sends a corpse flying off the ship with her staff before thinking "Maybe but i'm going to see your help usopp" she yells finally getting an idea. "Everyone protect Nami and Usopp" Luffy yells out running at the captain and punching him into the wall. "But what about the injured?" Chopper yells not wanting to leave the people in the medical bay alone. Luffy thinks for a moment before jumping up to join Zoro and Chopper "Go and protect Nami and Robin, I'll take care of these guys" The captain smiles the two nodding and running down to the main areas.

Getting distracted by the corpse in front of you, you didn't realize there was one coming up behind you raising its blade and slashing down, the sound of metal hitting metal made you jump at little but kicked the corpse in front of you away before turning to see Zoro blocking the corpses bad with his own sword before cutting the thing in half "Watch yourself" The swords man yells at you making you smile but focuses on the thing in front of you "I know you've got my back babe" you giggle as he angrily grumbles at you. It didn't take too long for Nami and Usopp to set up Nami's staff and some devices as the rest of the crew made sure nothing got to them. "Firing in 3" Usopp yells warning everyone, in the corner of your eye you see the corpse captain getting back up standing to his feet "He's up" you yell out as the captain runs at Nami and Usopp who have begun counting down.

You run at the captain practically body slamming it away from your two friends and sending it crashing into the railing of the ship. It tries to get back up only for Zoro to cut its legs off and Sanji to light his leg on fire jumping over Zoro to kick the captain off the ship and into the water. A large bolt of lightning shoots out form Nami's staff as the two hold it down stopping it from moving with the force of the lighting. Hitting the thick fog light crackles around and into the fog making it grow thinner and thinner, the corpse screaming out in pain dropping their weapons as they turn to dust, the light wind blowing their ashes into the sea. "YEA" Franky, Nami, Usopp and Luffy yell out cheering at the victory. You laugh feeling relief that its all finally over as arms pull you in for a hug "That was amazing my love. You protected Nami so well" Sanji smiles holding you close "Hay what about me?" Usopp yells feeling left out but ended up being pulled away by Luffy who wants to talk about the fight. "Are you two ok?" Zoro asks walking overlooking you two up and down for injuries "Yea. were fine" You smile pulling him in to join you two in a hug "You guys were amazing. i love watching you fight" with one arm around each boy you lean up and share a kiss them. Its rare when you three do this sharking a kiss at the same time, all three lips meeting at once but thats what makes it special.

"Excuse us. i'm so sorry to interrupt" A male voice speaks out everyone turning to see three people at the top of the steps. The once injured people with old torn blood covered cloths now looked completely fine. No wounds, perfect outfits and a dull light surrounding them "Your all better. How?" Chopper runs over watching as the three make their way down the stairs "We've been trapped in a loop for so long, reliving our last moments over and over again but thanks to you all were finally free" The man you now recognize as the guy you helped spoke, In army cloths and the medal hanging form his jacket. "Thank you all" the three bow leaving the crew stunned as they slowly disappear the ship next to the sunny fading alongside them and soon there was nothing left "Wait at least give us something as a thanks" Nami yelled being held back by Usopp. Letting out a giggle your glad its finally over "Well now i can have my nap" Zoro yawned catching your attention "I think i might need one too. Mind if i join?" you ask feeling his hand grip your hip as he leans in "Always" your lips connect with his as your hand runs up into his hair "Want to join us, Cook?" Zoro asks braking away form the kiss to look up at Sanji, the poor cook didn't even get to answer as your Captain yelled out for food. "I wish i could" Sanji sighs kissing you both before going off to the kitchen being followed by Luffy.

#polly relationship #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #one piece #sanji x reader #sanji x zoro #zosan #zoro x sanji #vinsmoke sanji #zosan x reader #one piece zosan #zoro x sanji x reader #halloween

[meraki-yao]

RWRB Quotes that speak to me on this really fucking shitty day

Hey, have I told you lately that you're brave? I still remember what you said to that little girl in the hospital about Luke Skywalker:"He's proof that it doesn't matter where you come from or who your family is." Sweetheart, you're proof too.

It is, indeed, bullshit. It's all I can do not to pack a bag and be gone forever. Perhaps I could live in your room like a recluse. You could have food sent up for me, and I'll be lurking in disguise in a shadowy corner when you answer the door. It'll all be very dreadfully Jane Eyre

I'm afraid, though, I'm stuck here. Gran keeps asking Mum when I'm going to enlist, and did I know Philip had already served a year by the time he was my age. I do need to figure out what I'm going to do, because I'm certainly closing in on the end of what's an acceptable amount of time for a gap year. Please do keep me in your- what is it American politicians say?-thoughts and prayers

It drives me nuts sometimes that you don't get to have more say in your life. When I picture you happy, I see you with your own apartment somewhere outside of the palace and a desk where you can write anthologies of queer history. And I'm there, using up your shampoo and making you come to the grocery store with me and waking up in the same damn time zone with you every morning.

Have you ever had something go so horribly, horribly, unbelievably badly that you'd like to be loaded into a cannon and jettisoned into the merciless black maw of outer space?

I wonder sometimes what is the point of me, or anything. I should have just packed a bag like I said. I could be in your bed, languishing away until I perish, fat and sexually conquered, snuffed out in the spring of my youth. Here lies Prince Henry of Wales. He died as he lived: avoiding plans and sucking cock.

Specifically, we were discussing enlistment, Philip and Shaan and I, and I told Philip I'd rather not follow the traditional path and that I hardly think I'd be useful to anyone in the military. He asked why I was so intent on disrespecting the traditions of the men of this family, and I truly think I dissociated straight (ha) out of the conversation, because I opened my blasted mouth and said, "Because I'm not like the rest of the men of this family, beginning with the fact that I am very deeply gay, Philip."

Once Shaan managed to dislodge him from the chandelier, Philip had quite a few words for me, some of which were "confused or misguided" and "ensuring the perpetuity of the bloodline" and "respecting the legacy." Honestly, I don't recall much of it. Essentially, I gathered that he was not surprised to discover I am not the heterosexual heir I'm supposed to be, but rather surprised that I do not intend to keep pretending to be the heterosexual heir I'm supposed to be.

Sometimes I imagine moving to New York to take over launching Pez's youth shelter there. Just leaving. Not coming back. Maybe burning something down on the way out. It would be nice.

9. How hard you try

10. How hard you've always tried.

11. How determined you are to keep trying.

give yourself away sometimes, sweetheart. there's so much of you.

They all turn to look at him, and Alex feels a wave of something so much bigger than himself sweep over him, like when he was a child standing bowlegged in the Gulf of Mexico, rip-tide sucking at his feet. A sound escapes his throat uninvited, something that he barely even recognizes, and June has him first, then the rest of them, arms and arms and hands and hands, pulling him close and touching his face and moving him until he's on the floor, the goddamn terrible hideous antique rug that he hates, sitting on the floor and staring at the rug and the threads of the rug and hearing the Gulf rushing in his ears and thinking distantly that he's having a panic attack, and that's why he can't breathe, but he's just staring at the rug and he's having a panic attack and knowing why his lungs won't work doesn't make them work again.

He's faintly aware of being shifted into his room, to his bed, which is still covered in the godforsaken fucking newspapers, and someone guides him onto it, and he sits down and tries very, very hard to make a list in his head.

One.

One.

One

Once upon a time, there was a young Prince, who was born in a castle. And there had never been a prince quite like him: he was born with his heart on the outside of his body.

Whereas the other princes and noble children could withstand the slings and arrows of childhood, the Prince felt everything acutely. Everything seemed to touch and threaten his unprotected heart.

Oh for Christ sake Alex, for once! I wish you could see me for who I am and not who you want me to be! Sometimes, I don't think you know me at all!

I wasn't raised by a loving, supportive family like you were!

Nothing will ever happen to you.

I don't want your protection, I want your support.

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb movie #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry hanover stuart fox #firstprince #book quotes #personal #i can't anymore

[winniethewife]

Spontaneously combust

(Nathan Bateman x F!reader)

A/N Inspired by a Prompt by @gingersforeverbox

Warning: Drug use, Weed

Words: 579

She had been surprised that after she had slipped out side for a quick smoke break, Nathan had followed her out. She had been staying with him for a couple months now. Hired to keep him company out here in the middle of nowhere, and occasionally help out around the complex, she could hardly believe it had been real when she had applied to the job, and gotten the interview. It seemed like dream, hang out with a rich dude in the middle of nowhere for money? Why the hell not. There had been a lot of safety procedures, background checks and trial visits, a very elaborate contract, which could be summed up into “I promise I’m not a serial killer. Sign here.”  And after the bumpy getting to know you period of the relationship she had started to settle in. At first she thought that Nathan was just an asshole, but really he was just, eccentric. However usually when she slipped outside in the evening to smoke a joint to calm her nerves, he didn’t follow. She had guessed he just wasn’t interested in it, but she had been wrong. As they pass the joint back and forth, she can’t help but smile at him.

“What? Is there something on my face?” Nathan asks running his fingers through his beard, after passing the joint back to her.

“No, I just don’t think I’ve seen you so relaxed before.” She shrugs and takes a drag from the joint before looking out into the wilderness again. After they finish the joint they head inside and both of them sit in the living area as the effects of the marijuana start to kick in, Nathan starts to ramble, going on and on about the science around Cannabis, How its grown, how it can be used, the history of its use. She was smiling at him, she loved it when he started on like this. She could listen to his voice for hours.

“Cannabis plants are diecious - meaning there are both female and male versions of the plant. You can tell the sex of the plat is female if pistils are present, whereas males have stamen. It’s the female plants that flower and produce what you smoke, while males are really only valuable for breeding.” As he talks he uses his hands to emphasize different point’s he’s making. He’s leaning back in the chair as he rambles on. She smiles, enjoying the way he looks, the way he talks, the way he…exists. That’s when she lets the thought slip.

“Mmm, Please never stop talking Nathan, I love the way you sound…I love you.” She softly mutters, she was obviously out of it, but at the same time, Nathan could instantly tell she was being completely honest. He froze, his mind short circuiting. Did she really just say that? He wanted to take her in his arms, tell her all the things he had been thinking over the time she had been staying with him. He wanted to feel her skin under his hands… He just can’t, his entire body frozen by her words, his mind slowed to a screeching hault with the effects of the plant he was just rambling about. He blinks twice as he looks at her, his lips parted softly in a state of shock. He realizes he should say something, anything, but realistically he’s too high not to say exactly what he means.

“I…I love you too.”

~

Masterlist

Tags: @burymesanti

#nathan bateman #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman x you #nathan bateman fanfiction #nathan bateman fic #ex machina #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #x reader #cw drugs #cw weed #cannabis #Spotify

[ateezreactionsandscenarios]

See me after class.

Pairing: Song Mingi x Reader

Genre: Angst(ish), Smut, Fluff

CW: Praise, oral (M receiving), slight power imbalance (if you can really call it that).

Word Count: 5952

Prompts: 23) "Looks like we’re going to be trapped for a while."

                43) "Are you trying to turn me on or are you that oblivious?"

                52) "I want you all to myself."

Summary: A new history teacher has joined your university and since day one you haven’t been able to take your eyes off him, your mind always swarming with ideas of what you want him to do to you, but that will never happen...or will it?

Prompt List               MasterList         Buy me a Coffee

There you sat, in the lecture hall, hardly paying attention once again. It’s not that you didn’t like the subject, you majored in history because it fascinated you but why did the professor need to be so hot? Professor Song was the new history lecturer at your university and also your biggest distraction, since the start of the year you’ve been just scraping the grades you need to continue, your notebook always practically empty while you sit staring at your professor daydreaming about all the things you want to him to do to you, things that would make a nun cry. “I’ll see all of you tomorrow, remember to really study for that test tomorrow.” You were snapped back to reality by the word test. “Shit, a test?” You whisper to yourself a little panicked. You rush to gather your stuff together and rush out the door, your original plan was to go home and continue watching the series you and your roommate Seonghwa started watching but now you had a test to cram for so you make a B line for the library as soon as you’re out of the lecture hall, in an attempt to grab as many books as you can that you think would help you.

“Hey, I’ve been waiting for you, we got a show to...oh wow you look a mess, what’s up?” Seonghwa asks as you walk through the door, bag hanging off you as you struggle to keep a hold on all the books in your arms. “Thanks Hwa, that’s exactly what a girl wants to hear.” You glare at him trying to shut the door with your foot. “Sorry, here let me help you.” He goes over to you taking the books from your arms before heading to the living room to place them on the table. “What’s with all the books?” 

“I have a test tomorrow and I’m nowhere near prepared for it.” You sigh flopping down on the couch grabbing one on the many textbooks in front of you to start cramming. Meanwhile, Seonghwa went into the kitchen to grab you some snacks and a drink to help you get through it before sitting down next to you ready to help if needed. “Who’s class is this for?” He asked sifting through the books. “Professor Song’s class...I’m so screwed.” You groan covering your face with the book. As soon as the name reached his ears Seonghwa turned to you with a knowing look on his face. “THE Professor Song...The one who you...”

“Yes that one, you’re not helping.” You swat him with the book as he starts to laugh uncontrollably at you knowing exactly why you weren’t prepared. “I’m sorry but it’s pretty funny.” He says wiping away a tear as you continue to scowl at him. You were happy that you were able to be that open with Seonghwa and him to be the same to you, you’d been friends for as long as you could remember, you knew every fine detail about each other, but right now you wish you’d kept your fantasies to yourself. 

The rest of the night you were surrounded by piles of books, paper, a variety of pens and your laptop, you’d been endlessly studying for hours, you’d lost count at this point, you glance over to the clock which read 1:30am. Not believing the clock you look to the window surprised to see darkness. Had it really been that long? “You’re still studying?” You hear Seonghwa ask as he walks into the living room half asleep. “I need to keep going but I can’t read the damn pages.” You reply, frustration very clear in your voice. You were in the middle of scrolling through an article when your laptop was abruptly shut on you. “What the fuck, I was reading that.” You snap at him. “You need to sleep.” He said walking off with your laptop putting it back in your room before coming back to tidy the books and paper up. “I’m...fine.” You try to say through a yawn feeling your eyes get heavier by the second. “Yeah sure okay.” He scoffs stacking all your things and taking those back to your room too. By the time he came back to the living room you’d already passed out on the floor, exhaustion finally taking over you. He lets out a small chuckle seeing you laid across the floor and scoops you up taking you to bed. 

You lazily slap at your alarm clock to turn it off before rolling over to get a few more minutes of sleep but jump awake when you realise you’re in your bed. You don’t remember going to bed the night before and you’re still dressed in the clothes you were in all day. You trudged into the kitchen where Seonghwa was already sat with his bowl of cereal. “Ah! She’s awake.” He cheers, laughing a little at your dishevelled state. “What’s up?” He asks through a mouth full of cereal noting your confused look. “Hmm? Nothing...I just can’t remember going to bed last night.” He lets out another laugh as he recalls you passing out. “You didn’t, I was helping you put everything away and when I came back you were asleep on the floor so I took you to bed.” A small smile crept across your face, he was always looking out for you even in the smallest ways. After grabbing a quick coffee you went off to get dressed for the dreaded test. You weren’t really paying attention to what you were throwing on, you just picked stuff out of your closet and called it a day, time was getting on and you were now in a rush.

You dart through the living room to find your keys but was stopped in your tracks when you heard a small huff of laughter come from Seonghwa, turning around to face him you shot a confused look. "Dressing to impress are we?" He joked taking note of your short skirt and low cut top. You gave him another confused look still not understanding what he was talking about. "Why don't you just sleep with the guy?" The question, well more of a statement, had you taken aback. Of course you'd thought about it before...a lot actually but the thought never crossed your mind to actually go through with it. "Really Hwa?" You say rolling your eyes at him. "What? I mean you've said before how much you want to fuck him so why don't you?" You scoff in return, if only it were that easy, he's a teacher you're a student, it's wrong on so many levels, age wasn't the problem you were legal but it's more the moral of teacher and student, even with that out the window you were sure he had no interest. "The guy is probably married, come on, I'm just a student to him that's all, he's never given me a second thought." Seonghwa raised his eyebrows scanning over your outfit one more time, "Until today." By this point you'd had enough, you roll your eyes once again and flip him off before leaving the apartment.

You sat in your seat nervously fiddling with your fingers as you waited for the papers to be handed out, anxiety filling in the pit of your stomach. "I'm going to hand out the papers, do not open them until I say." The nerves started to make you feel nauseous as you watched your professor slowly walk around placing the tests on the desks. You were lost in your own world of panic by the time Professor Song approached you, briefly bringing you back to reality when he smoothly slid the paper in front of you. Looking up nervously you meet his eyes that were slightly concerned. "Are you okay, you're looking a little pale." He asked thinking you weren't feeling well. You nod in reply, "Just a little nervous." You say weakly trying to avoid eye contact. "You'll do fine, don't panic." He says with a small wink as he walked away. Your eyes widen and a small blush creeps to your cheeks. Did he just wink? At YOU? you felt you must have been imagining things but now with the thought burned into your brain you thought to yourself how the hell you're going to be able to concentrate now.

The test didn't go as smoothly as you'd hoped, you're sure you failed, there were some questions that you didn't even think to study and the ones you did study you were sure you didn't do much better on, all that and the fact you couldn't stop thinking and debating with yourself if he winked at you or not. You were screwed. You still sat in your spot waiting for the tests to be collected, you could feel yourself sweating as your eyes followed Professor Song around the room. "Feeling better now its over?" He asked with a sweet smile taking the paper from your hand, you shake your head slightly looking down to avoid his gaze. A small disheartened smile covered his face feeling sympathy for you. "Hey don't worry about it, it's mot the end of the world. I was where you're sat once so I know how it feels. Even if you pass and its not the grade you want feel free to ask for a resit. I can even offer tutoring sessions if you want them." You couldn't describe the expression on his face, his sympathy seemed to have disappeared and was replaced with something else but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. You nod at him thanking him for the offer and that you'll think about it, he gives a simple nod and shoots another wink your way, that time you 100% caught it, you didn't imagine it last time, he definitely winked at you.

[Hwa: 12:18]

“Hey I’m close by, if you’re finished do you want a lift home?”

[Y/n: 12:20]

“Yeah, that’d be great I just got out.”

[Hwa: 12:20] 

“On my way 😁.”

You sat on the steps outside your university as you waited for Seonghwa to turn up, you tried to take your mind off the test by scrolling through your social medias giving up after a while not being able to shift your thoughts. “Come on loser!” Seonghwa yells from his car laughing as he spoke. “Wow, lovely, fuck off.” You bit back getting up from where you sat. “Okay bye.” Still laughing he slowly started to drive off as you ran after his car. “You’re a dick.”

“Ah, but you still love me.” He smiled as you both set off home. “So how’d the test go?” You sigh slumping back in your seat. “That bad?” You nod in reply, “If I pass it’ll be a miracle.” You laugh trying to push down the dread of seeing your result. “Well lucky for you I had something planned tonight that would take your mind off everything. Now, don’t get too excited it’s nothing special.” You didn’t really care how big or small the plans were, you were in desperate need of a distraction. “I decided to run to the store, I grabbed not one, but two, bottles of your favourite wine.” You were already smiling as you waited for him to carry on explaining his plan. The sound of a simple movie night in with wine and food was exactly what you needed right now and to have Seonghwa as your company made everything better.

A few glasses of wine down and the movie was completely forgotten about. “I know I make jokes about it a lot but tell me, what’s the Professor Song like?” Seonghwa asked fully facing you, wine glass clutched in both hands as he smiled like a school girl. You roll your eyes as you faced him. “You’re really going there?” You ask through a laugh as he quickly nods in response. “He’s really nice, he can be a bit dorky and on occasion can get really shy but it’s cute.” Seonghwa looked at you with great concentration as he took a sip of his wine. “He’s supportive too, always there if anyone needs help and comforts people who need it.” You carry on, blushing slightly. “Damn, I knew you had a thing for him but you’re in deeper than I thought.” Your face contorts in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“Well it seems to me like you want more than just to fuck him.” He replies taking another innocent sip from his glass. “SEONGHWA!” You screech making him jump a little. “What? I’m not wrong, it was only the other week you went into GREAT detail about how you wanted him too...”

“Okay, okay!” You interrupt him, remembering exactly what you had said. “Look, it doesn’t matter how I feel, there is no way a guy like him is single and not only that I’m his student and he’s me teacher, it can’t happen and it WON’T happen.” Your attempts to turn him away from the topic failed when you saw his eyebrows raise slightly. “Okay, well let’s say he is single, I’m sure a little flirting isn’t going to harm anyone.” And there he goes again, you set your wine down and look at him. “Seonghwa, as much as I love you and appreciate your advice, this lot of advice is terrible.” You laugh as you get up gathering your dishes. “I must have you know I give amazing advice all the time.” You scoff walking back over to him. “Sure you do, well I'm going to sleep.” You announce before slapping him in the head with a pillow. “Hey! What was that for.” He whined watching you walk away. “Goodnight!” You yell back as you shut your bedroom door.

The next morning it seemed Seonghwa was still on the topic. “Come on let me pick your outfit.” He begged as you tried to drown out the sound of his consistent nagging. “No, I know exactly what you’ll do and quite frankly I don’t want to go to uni with my tits and ass hanging out.” He groans in frustration, almost ripping his hair out. “Come on I won’t do that I’m classy.” You raise a disbelieving eyebrow at him as you take the final sip of your coffee. “If I let you pick my outfit you need to promise me you’ll make it uni friendly.” You warn as you slowly make your way to your room, there was no answer from Seonghwa, all you saw was the quick blur of his figure running passed you and into your room. You walk in to see clothes flying in every direction as he looks for your “Perfect” outfit. “Really, I cleaned in here the other day.” You whine picking up the clothes as they hit the floor and re-folding them. “Try this.” Hey says throwing you a skirt and a strappy top, you glare at him knowing where he was going with the outfit. “I’m not going to wear this.” You grumble looking at the combo knowing it was going to be showing off way more skin than you wanted it to. “Okay, fine, you’re keeping the skirt though, try this.” He says throwing you a simple tee, you found it to be an improvement, not much of one, but one you were willing to go with. You quickly shooed him out from your room so you could get changed, letting him back in once you were done. “Is this going a little too far?” You ask a little unsure. “It looks great, it’s not against any dress code and it’ll certainly catch a certain Professor’s eye.” He explains wiggling his eyebrows a little at you. “Okay 1. I hate it when you do that...eyebrow thing and 2. I’m not going to be catching any Professor’s eye, I will admire from a distance and we’ll leave it at that.” Seonghwa nods at you falsely agreeing with you before throwing another item of clothing at you. “At least put these on.” You look down at the knee high socks he’d thrown your way and roll your eyes. You only intended to put them on to entertain him but you had to admit they pieced together your outfit really well so you decided to keep them. “Can I go now?” You rhetorically ask grabbing your bag and keys heading towards the door. “Have fun and don’t forget my advice!” Seonghwa shouts down the hall watching you close the door as you pretend not to hear him. 

The whole way to class you were thinking about Seonghwa’s advice and the more you though about it the more you wanted to give it a go. You took a seat at the front of the lecture hall as a change from your usual seat in the middle and started to unpack what you needed as you waited for the hall to fill up. With everyone there Professor Song wasn’t far behind, you tried to be discreet when you looked at him but your stare lingered a little longer than you planned. He walked in wearing a crisp white shirt, a fun tie wrapped around his neck and as your eyes travelled lower you saw his black slacks fitting him a little more than usual accentuating everything, every muscle, every curve...just everything. Once you realised where you were staring you quickly glanced up to his face to see if he’d noticed, a harsh blush flooded your face when you saw he was already looking at you, a smirk plastered on his face as he walked by. 

Learning from your mistakes you tired to focus your attention on the work, you didn’t want a repeat of your last test, that’s not to say that you didn’t sneak a quick glance at Professor Song every chance you could. He was sat at his desk shuffling through some papers as he left you all to the tasks he set on the board, you found yourself staring again at every small movement he made, the way he straightened the papers, fiddled with his pen, you were completely entranced. Snapping yourself away once again you looked back down to your book trying to concentrate on what you were working on. What you didn’t see was how he’d been doing the same thing to you all session, he’d take a small glance up to see if you weren’t paying attention before he’d look up a little more to take you in, now it was his turn to stare a little too long at you once you’d crossed one leg over your knee causing your skirt to come up a little on the one side exposing a bit more thigh. You lift your head to take a quick glimpse at the next task when your attention was drawn away as you could see Professor Song looking in your direction from the corner of your eye. He panicked a little noticing he got caught but it melted away quickly when you shot him a flirty smirk before going back to work. Your mind started to wander after that moment, you wanted to keep it rational, maybe he was just lost in thought and didn’t realise where he was looking, but the other part of you got rather excited he was giving you that sort of attention. The sneaky glances you took the rest of the class proved to be in favour of the latter since you’d caught on to his staring a few more times throughout the session.

Nearing the end of class he did his usual check around everyone to see how they were getting on starting from the back and making his way down to the front. Each step he got closer to you got your heart racing a little more each time. Your heart was fully pounding out of your chest when he finally came to you kneeling the other side of your desk as he crossed his arms and rested his chin on them. “Hey.” He started simply catching you a little off guard, you tired to hide how shy you’d suddenly become. “Hi.” You reply propping your head on your hand to meet his eyes. “How are you getting on, are you feeling a bit more relaxed now?” He didn’t seem phased by how close the two of you were which to you was a good sign. “I’m doing a bit better now, don’t really want to think about that test.” You weakly laugh shrugging as he gives you a small smile in return. “Well I was wondering if I could see you after class, there’s something I want to discuss with you.” Your heart sank a little, did you do something wrong? Had he already marked your failed test? You mind was now swimming of thoughts of anything you could have possibly done wrong. "Okay, no problem.” You nod voice a little shaky from nerves. He gives another quick smile as he places a comforting hand on your wrist before getting up to go back to his desk.

As Professor Song dismissed the class you took your time packing your things away as you waited for the room to empty before approaching his desk. “Professor Song, if this is about the test, I’m assuming I failed and I’m sorry I’ll do better next time.” You say hurriedly trying to get out before he gave you a big lecture about not doing good enough. “Hey, hey this isn’t about the test. Between you and me, I’ve already looked over yours, you didn’t fail.” A wave of relief washed over you as your anxieties melted away but that didn’t stop you turning to him with a puzzled look. “So what was it you wanted to discuss?” He let out a small chuckle as he thought of how to word what he’d say next and the smirk that found it’s way to his face made you even more curious.  "Are you trying to turn me on or are you that oblivious?" He asked stepping closer to you, a dark look in his eye and his face unchanged. Your eyes widened not just from his boldness but from how sudden the question was. You stood in front of him mouth agape as you tried to process an answer. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me.” You were at a complete loss for words, he knew this whole time? You felt you should feel a bit humiliated from being caught but you kind of felt an air of satisfaction and remembering the winks he threw your way the day before only boosted this feeling inside you. He takes a few more steps closer to you, but in reflex you take steps back yourself until you found yourself pressed against his desk, you turn your head quickly to look at what you were resting against but when you turned to face him again you were taken aback by how close his face was to yours, he still stood a step or two away from you but leaned down to meet your eye level. “I wonder how many times you daydreamed about me in class.” He said tilting his head in curiosity, scanning your face as if looking for an answer. “I haven’t been daydreaming about you.” You scoff trying to feign innocence but the way you sheepishly look away from him blows your cover completely. A low laugh leaves him as he slowly loosens his tie, “That’s not what you face tells me every day in class.” Your face flushes red and the shade gets deeper every time he opens his mouth, you couldn’t tell where exactly this was going but you really didn’t want to stop it. “Oh don’t be embarrassed, I’ve been thinking the same about you this whole time...just I’m better at hiding it.” 

“P...Professor Song.” You stutter trying to find the right words to say as he leans in a little closer. “Please, call me Mingi.” As he spoke you tried to scrape together whatever was left of your confidence so you didn’t continue to look like a flustered, stuttering idiot. “Okay, Mingi, I’m pretty sure if your girlfriend managed to find out about this she wouldn’t be happy now would she?” The cockiness in your voice surprised you a little but you tried your best to hide it. “What girlfriend?” How could he not have a girlfriend? You thought to yourself as you looked over him, there had to be some sort of catch someone this attractive being single there was always a catch, he was probably an asshole. “So you’re telling me a guy like you isn’t with anyone, and why would that be?” Your cockiness was fully taking over you now as you stand up straight from against his desk slightly closing the already small gap between you both, so close to the point you could feel his breath lightly against your face. He simply shrugs in response to your question as his eye flitted back and forth between own eyes and lips. “Fuck it.” You say under your breath after a deep sigh and a massive spurt in confidence as you closed the gap between you crashing yours lips into his. He wasted no time in returning the kiss as he stood up straight, wrapping an arm around your waist swiftly pulling you into him as you let out a small yelp in surprise causing him to smile a little into the kiss. 

The mood of the kiss took an almost immediate turn from sort of sweet to hungry and needs within a matter of seconds. You feared once you broke away that would be it and you’d go your separate ways, but desperate for air you had to take the risk. You pulled away slightly panting waiting for him to say something before he left, but it seemed your thoughts were wrong, he didn’t move away, not even an inch. “I’m sorry.” You say breaking the silence. “What for?” He asks looking at you bewildered. “I shouldn’t have kissed you, I just kinda jumped in to it without thinking.” He brought a hand up to caress your cheek before asking, “Do you regret it?” You took a second to think about how to reply but you knew you couldn’t lie to him at this point. “No.” You shook your head. “If I’m being honest...I didn’t want to stop.” Your words caused that smirk of his to return, you knew from that alone you were on the same page. “Then don’t stop.” He whispers before leaning in again. Your lips moulded together, almost like they were made for each other, getting lost in the feel of his kiss you didn’t notice the small moan that escaped you, not until you heard the small chuckle come from him then you realised what you did. You quickly pull away for a moment briefly remembering where you were as you took a nervous glance at the door. “What if someone catches us, won’t you get into shit for doing this?” He raised an eyebrow at you taking note at what you said knowing it was true. Without a word he made his way over to the door quickly locking it before returning to you wrapping an arm around your waist bringing you to his chest. “Oops, looks like we’re going to be trapped for a while.” He jokes as his lips connect with your neck earning a small gasp from you. 

Everything was happening so fast, just this morning you were content with admiring your Professor from afar but now you found yourself pressed between him and his desk as he made his mark along your neck as you whimper his name fully melting into each touch. You let out a small yelp as you feel his hands wrap around the back of your thighs quickly lifting you to sit on his desk. “As much as I’d love to draw this out a bit longer we’re going to have to make this quick, they’ll be needing this room soon.” You pull him closer re-connecting your lips as you fumble with the buttons on his shirt trying to hurry things up. “No time.” He pants into the kiss as he moves your hands from his shirt to his belt prompting you to undo it. Your fingers fumble at the buckle as your mind fogs over with lust getting needier for him by the second. With his belt and slacks successfully undone he wastes no time pulling them down just enough for his length to spring free from its confines. You gasp at the sight of him, he was a little bigger than what you had imagined in your daydreams. Trailing kisses along your jaw his hands went to work moving up your skirt to your underwear readying to move them to the side when he paused for a moment ghosting over them making you whimper at the feather light touch. “You’re soaked already, and it’s all for me.” Hearing those words come out of your teacher’s mouth had your mind reeling, this was a whole new level of dirty in your books and you loved it. You rolled your hips into his hand wanting to feel more friction, need to feel him. he gave a small nip to your jaw before pulling away to line himself with your core but before doing anything else looked back to you serious eyes piercing you. “Are You sure about this?” You nod pulling him in by his tie but stopping just before your lips connected again. “More than anything.” You whisper against him. 

Before your lips could could return to his he slowly slid into you, a breathy moan falling from you as you took in the heavenly sensation. He gave you a small moment to adjust to him but knowing you were both pushed for time he didn’t wait for your que before thrusting into you not holding back one bit. One hand had a firm grip on your hip keeping you in place as the other held the back of your neck tightly to keep your face from moving away from his as your tongues fought for dominance. You couldn’t hold back your moans letting them flow freely into the kiss that muffled them. “So pretty.” He pants against your lips as his thrusts kept their rapid pace constantly hitting that sweet spot deep inside you. “A pretty face and pretty sounds to match.” It was safe to say you only managed to catch bits a pieces of what he said, the feeling of the knot building in your stomach seemed to be a great distraction along with the sound of skin slapping into skin. Forgetting where you were for a moment you cry out his name as he continues to abuse your sweet spot but you were quickly hushed when he clasped a hand around your mouth. “You gotta stay quiet baby girl, we can’t have anyone catching us now can we?” You clutch at the side of the desk for dear life, your legs that were wrapped around his waist started to feel like jelly losing almost all strength to keep them wrapped around him. You try to talk but your words are muffled by his hand, noticing this he slowly pulls it away making sure you’re keeping as quiet as you can before removing it fully. “What was that baby girl?” Your eyes screw shut feeling the knot threatening to snap at any moment as you try to repeat what you said. “C...Close...So...” Placing both hands on your hips helping him pick up his pace even more into a merciless speed he leaned close to your ear, “Cum for me baby girl, let it all go.” His thrusts paired with his words and hot breath against your ear sent you over the edge, legs trembling as your high washed over you and your vision going blank for a moment before you start to come down. 

The way your walls clenched around him spurred him closer and closer to his own climax, curses spilling from him in time with his thrusts. “Fuck I’m close, knees now.” He commands as he swiftly pulls away from you pumping himself as you drop to the floor at the foot of the desk. He could have came there and then seeing you on your knees looking up at him with that fucked out face of yours, lips all swollen and ready for him. You open your mouth and hastily take him in as much as you can gagging a little as he hit the back of your throat. A low groan left his throat at the feeling of your tongue running along the underside of his cock as you bobbed your head, pulling away just enough to brush against the tip before sinking back down as far as you could. Feeling on the verge of his climax he thrusts himself into you choking you slightly as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “Just a little longer baby girl...So close.” His voice was raspy and breathless and by the way his thrusts were much sloppier than before you could tell he was on the edge. A couple more thrusts into your mouth had him releasing hot strings down your throat, weak grunts spilling from him as he rode out his high before pulling away from you. 

You took a moment staying where you were to compose yourself as he fixed himself up. Once he was done he stooped down to you holding your hands in his as he helped you to your feet, quickly catching you when your legs didn’t fully support your weight still feeling like jelly. “Careful.” He giggled as he held you close pressing a kiss to your temple. “Umm, Mingi?” You ask quietly debating if you really wanted to voice the question whirling in your head. “Hmm?” He answered lifting your face to look at him. “Umm...What happens now?” He looked puzzled by your question but let you carry on talking. “Like, where do we go from here now, you’re my teacher and I’m your student, we both know this can’t happen.” In this moment he realised everything went out the window when it came to you. “I want you all to myself. I don’t want anyone else.” Your eyes widened, were you really hearing what you thought you were? “But your job, if anyone finds out.” 

“Fuck my job.” He says cutting you off. “I want you more, if I have to find another job just to be with you then so be it.” Your heart fluttered, you never expected him to fully return your feelings, you thought this was going to be a one off fuck and then that would be it but hearing how he’s willing to risk his job just for you made you fall for him even more. You couldn’t find words strong enough to convey how you felt so you opted for pulling him into a kiss, this one being different from earlier, this one held the full weight of your emotions and when you felt him kiss back in that same manor you knew you were done for, you were now completely head over heels for Professor Song Mingi. 

“As much as I’d love to stay here all day kissing you we need to go.” He chuckles reluctantly pulling away from you. You pout lightly in response never wanting the moment to end. “Hey.” He coos at you lifting your chin. “There’s plenty more where that came from.”

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez smut #mingi #mingi scenarios #mingi fluff #mingi smut #mingi hard hours #ateez hard hours #song mingi #song mingi scenarios #song mingi fluff #song mingi smut #song mingi hard hours #ateez mingi #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #kpop smut #kpop hard hours

[punsmaster69]

8/DEC/20XX

a deep breath, and i feel a sense of nostalgia.

weird nostalgia. wouldn't go back, but i still think fondly of what happened.

the crispness of the cold air in snowdin takes me back- and i'm already reminiscing about random memories.

point to almost any rock formation along the walls of this place, and papyrus can probably tell you exactly how he's climbed it.

kicking the snow with my slippers a little bit, i remember how he used to warn me about wearing 'em outside.

—-

"YOU'LL SLIP AND FALL IN THOSE!!"

"naahh. i'll be fine."

"......"

"SEE? EVEN GRILLBY AGREES IT'S A BAD IDEA!!"

—-

for the most part, i always was fine; just had to be careful around the ice.

fortunately, it's not an issue using shortcuts; really only ever slipping a few times.

—-

"I SAID THIS WOULD HAPPEN."

"you've slipped even in your boots."

"THAT WAS A ONE-OFF ACCIDENT!"

"so was this."

sliding me across the ice until we were close enough to the snow to stand again, papyrus lifted me onto my feet once more.

"I TOLD YOU THIS WAS A TERRIBLE IDEA."

"you've gotta admit that over two weeks without slipping in these is pretty good."

"THERE'D HARDLY BE SLIPPING AT ALL IF YOU WOULD JUST PUT ON BETTER FOOTWEAR."

"these are way better."

"OBVIOUSLY NOT?! YOU 𝘑𝘜𝘚𝘛 SLIPPED!"

"but with snow boots, you have to tie 'em and whatnot."

"YOU DO THAT WITH MOST SHOES, SANS."

"not with slippers."

"YOU'RE GOING TO WEAR SLIPPERS ALL THE TIME.."

"JUST SO THAT YOU DON'T HAVE TO TIE THEM?"

"yep."

"that's the plan."

"YOUR ABILITY TO CONSISTENTLY FIND THE LAZIEST ROUTE IN EVERY ASPECT OF LIFE CONFOUNDS ME, BROTHER."

"IT'S ALMOST IMPRESSIVE."

"thanks. that's the one thing i do put effort into."

"...BEING LAZY."

"it's hard work, doing this little."

—-

ahh.

back when new bad habits of mine still surprised him.

...speakin' of bad habits.

grillby's looks like it hasn't been touched since the day we took all the important stuff up.

the most one'll find in there now is a fine layer of dust only disturbed by me brushing against some stuff.

not that the jukebox ever worked before, but i'm pretty sure it wouldn't turn on if you tried at this point.

——

already knew the librarby was empty; they gave away all the books before leaving to the surface.

took the sciencey ones, myself.

wanted the joke book too, but a certain old lady got to it first.

officially, it is hers.

unofficially, the book keeps bouncing between being in either of our possession for months at a time.

it's gained a few pages over the years, a lined-paper section at the end with a lotta skeleton and snail puns.

think paps split the cookbooks with someone, and hoarded the puzzle books.

(not like anyone else was readin' those, anyway.)

there were a couple on monster history i'm almost certain i've seen frisk with a few times, so they must've gotten those.

as charming as this little place was, the new library's got way more selection.

sorry, not library.

still librarby.

they kept the name. too iconic to change it.

even if it had been changed, we'd all continue to call it the librarby anyway.

——

many of the folks who had shops down here have taken up that same role on the surface.

the two bunnies running the inn and shop moved somewhere closer to new home city for better business.

——

in the snow, i did what i'd done a million times in the past.

i parked myself at the foot of the door which separated snowdin from the ruins.

—-

"knock, knock."

"Who's there?"

she'd say.

"cash."

"Cash who?"

"no thanks, i'm more of a walnut guy."

and i'd heard her burst out into laughter from the other side.

"Knock, knock."

"who's there?"

"Hatch."

"hatch who?"

"Oh, bless you."

then she'd laughed at her own joke hard enough to be contagious.

"knock, knock."

"Who's there?"

"canoe."

"Canoe who?"

"canoe come out here? i'm gettin' bonely."

she got a good kick out of that one, but her laughter had a tinge of sadness to it.

"...But, I am afraid not."

didn't expect any different of an answer.

always thinking it better not to ask quite why, i shrugged.

"one day, maybe."

"or not."

"you could just be mysterious door lady forever if you want."

"....."

"Knock, knock."

"who's there?"

"Peas."

"peas who?"

"Peas excuse my secretiveness. I know it can be a bit off-putting."

"everyone's got their secrets, 𝘴𝘯𝘰𝘸 problem to me if you keep a few."

"Ha! I am glad that you are so 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘭 with it."

"It is a joy to hear your 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘭 jokes every day!"

"nice to have someone with an a-𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳-able laugh to tell 'em to."

my slight regret about that pun immediately washed away upon hearing the laugh in question follow after it.

—-

....welp.

as fun as reminiscing has been, i've definitely left papyrus alone for far too long.

gotta spend at least a little time in the snow with him.

that's what we came back here for in the first place.

——

"WHEN DO YOU THINK IT'LL SNOW ON THE SURFACE?"

"it's supposed to get pretty cold soon, so probably not too long now."

"besides."

"if your desire for snow gets too awful bad, we'll just come down here again."

"WE SHOULD BRING FRIENDS WITH US NEXT TIME!"

"would be cool to re-visit the whole underground with everyone after all this time."

"OH!"

he sat straight up in the snow, scattering the powder around as he did so.

"YOU KNOW WHAT WE SHOULD DO?"

"what's that?"

"COME, COME! QUICKLY!!"

——

from that very same spot we all first looked in awe at our new future, me and him watched the sun set.

golden light poured over everything; sun beams warm in contrast to the town we've left once again.

"WHEN WE FIRST MOVED OUT FOR GOOD, I REALLY THOUGHT I'D MISS IT MORE."

"THOUGH, I DIDN'T EXACTLY HAVE THAT FEELING OF TRAPPED-NESS ON THE SAME LEVEL EVERYONE ELSE SEEMED TO."

"IT'S HARD TO GET BORED WHEN YOU'RE THE MOST ENTERTAINING SKELETON AROUND!"

"WITH THE COOLEST BROTHER AROUND."

"aww."

"...MAYBE I DID FEEL TRAPPED A LITTLE.. BUT IT DOESN'T MATTER ANYMORE."

"WE'RE ALL ON THE SURFACE TOGETHER, AND THAT 𝗜𝗦 WHAT MATTERS!"

when he turned to look at me, i couldn't tell whether his face was lit up more by the sun or the smile he had.

"I'M REALLY HAPPY HERE."

"me too."

#undertale #journal #sans #papyrus #skelebros #sans and papyrus #toriel #soriel #sans x toriel

[gemsofgreece]

Γειά! I'm very interested in reading about Greek mythology. Mostly interpretations and deep dives on the origins and context of said mythology. All I've read so far are texts authored by British and American scholars but those are always biased and fitted into not-hellenic cultures. I wonder if you know of an actual Greek source that I could access in Spanish or English? I'd really appreciate it. Have a great day!

Γεια σου! Unfortunately I can't provide very accurate recs because I haven't read much about mythology and because

Foreign scholars hardly translate Greek literary classics (meaning modern classics), let alone Greek research on fields that they have already totally called dibs on.

Greeks themselves traditionally did not care much about mythology and have been studying history way more. The stance they hold towards mythology is that it is a bunch of fairytales suited for kids.

Younger generations are getting more interested in it which had led to an increase in books, references and podcasts about it, however the extreme majority are still adressed to kids. I searched one of the biggest book stores in Greece for recs and out of the 192 Greek mythology books available, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that the 170 were meant for kids and then most out of the remaining were translated foreign works.

The most famous Greek book about the mythology is Ελληνική Μυθολογία by Nikos Tsiforos, 1964, 644 pages. This book is very informative and detailed however this is not its actual intent. Written by Tsiforos, who was a screenwriter and director with a very sharp humour and notable for the use of slang (of the time), its main point is the social and political commentary on religion. He was also very interested in drawing parallels and finding influences with other eastern civilizations. A drawback I have seen mentioned lately is that since this is edgy humour of the sixties, it completely lacks in political correctness, which makes some jokes appear irrelevant and insensitive. Greek readers seem to love this book enough to forgive such jokes and all agree about the surprising amount of knowledge and detail concentrated in this book, however unfortunately it is not translated into other languages.

I can translate to you the excerpt above to give you an idea:

"... turned against the idols of the Philistines, those people who historically had Greek origins, the Egyptian gods marched drenched in gold alongside the army to confront the iron gods of the Hittites, the patron saints of Cortés were caught in a catfight with the monstrous gods of Motecuhzoma, and whoever won the match also won the glory and the faith, so try arguing with men thinking that the "protection from above" excused their rights or their injusticies... A deity is necessary in war, because it is based on the highest power of the universe... The human stupidity. The mass human stupidity. The despicable Mr War could not not become a god by the Greeks, people who fought constantly, from their very first day. So he did, and his name was Ares. Behold, then, a Gentleman whom deep inside nobody likes. Neither the people who created him nor the gods who had a brawler in their company. A troublemaker, vile, unconscionable, most rude, never keeping his word - war never has honour anyway..."

It is a great read, but not translated and probably not exactly what you seek.

Then some other ones that are not translated, at least so far, are

Ελληνική Μυθολογία Τόμος Α Εισαγωγή. Ανάλυση και ερμηνεία του ελληνικού μύθου - Greek Mythology. Volume A. Introduction. Analysis and interpretation of Greek myth by Konstantinos Tsatsos, Ioannis Kakridis, Eleni Kehayoglou. Also writes a lot about the origins of every myth and explores the reasons behind their creation. Part of a series on Greek mythology, where most of the work is done by Kakridis, I believe. His full book series is 1680 pages. I believe the Greek Mythology by Kakridis is what you are looking for, but again I don't think there's a translation.

Ελληνική Μυθολογία: οι Θεοί - Greek Mythology: The Gods by Dora Papaioannou, 180 pages. This is an edition in simple, easy Greek, ideal for Greek learners, so I don't know if you are studying Greek, I add it here just in case. Obviously this must mean it doesn't get extremely detailed, although a reader in Goodreviews said it also had myths they did not know about. Papaioannou has written more relevant books in easy Greek, such as for the Trojan War and the Odyssey, with 225 pages.

Even though there are no translations, I thought this was an opportunity to mention these ones for interested Greeks and Greek speakers / learners.

There were more books of course, but they were for children or they focused on beautiful illustrations rather than analysis or didn't have enough ratings in Goodreads yet for me to recommend them.

#greek #greek mythology #mythology #greece #books #book rec #anon #ask

[bingo6776]

people say she's bad (but they don't see the way she is with me)

wednesday addams x enid sinclair

1.1k

enids had a long day. cuddling ensues.

Enid was just about ready to throw herself off of her balcony.

Her day had been seven different kinds of difficult and gruelling, it was a downright fucking mission to get through.

Firstly, she had forgotten her history essay on ‘Werewolf and Vampire Relations in the 18th century’ which she personally thought was saving her from a lot of unnecessary boredom, and saving her girlfriend, Wednesday, from a lot of well deserved complaining. Detention.

And then it was the personal vendetta her teachers had against her today, as if they had met up before classes and decided to throw the most complex questions they could at her. And when she couldn’t answer any? “Detention for [her] lack of attention.” Her teachers were aspiring poets, what could she say?

Fencing consisted of Yoko beating her repeatedly again, and again, and again. Simply because, although the werewolf was physically stronger, the vampire had literally had decades to perfect her skill. It was heavily unfair, in Enid’s opinion.

But mostly she just missed Wednesday. She’d had hardly been able to see the smaller girl all day. Whenever Enid had seen an opening to talk to her girlfriend during lunch, she was whisked away by her never ending social groups or stopped to talk about her numerous clubs, person after person demanding her attention.

The werewolf was surprised she hadn’t wolfed out ten times over with how infuriating it had been to be this close to finally hearing Wednesday’s voice just to be yanked back by people she currently really did not want to talk to.

With that in mind, who can blame her if when her detention had finally ended she practically ran towards her room, praying Wednesday didn’t have any more leads she needed to follow up about her “gloriously furtive” – Wednesdays words, not hers – stalker.

Feeling as if her entire body was vibrating as she pushed the door open with such force it flung back at her, she quickly dropped her bag on the floor and threw her blazer in the direction of her bed.

“Wednesday!” she called, excitement seeping from her very pores. All she wanted to do was wrestle her girlfriend into cuddling her to sleep as she did every night. Wednesday could pretend she didn’t like it, but Enid knew the girl loved it as much as she did. It was routine at this point.

Aaaaaand, with how her day was going, Enid was not at all surprised to see that the goth was missing from the room.

‘great’ Enid felt as if her entire body had slumped, looking like a dog with its tail between its legs, she threw on pyjamas and decided to just go to sleep at a disgustingly early time and hope for a better day tomorrow.

---

The slow creak of the door pulled Enid from her less than peaceful sleep, sitting up with her heavy feeling eyes struggling to see in the dark.

“Wends?” fuck, she sounded like shed just woken up after sleeping for decades. Why is my throat so God damn dry?  

“Go back to sleep, Enid. It’s almost midnight.”

At the sound of her girlfriends whispered voice, Enid felt a small smile pull at her lips. And if anyone calls her a simp for missing her girlfriends voice then she wouldn’t even try to deny it.

Enid reached over to turn on the lamp that sat on her desk, her eyes immediately landing on Wednesday as the psychic moved around the room doing God knows what.

“I missed you today.”

“I saw you this morning,” Wednesday quickly looked over her shoulder, at seeing how tired – no – exhausted Enid looked she muttered a small “I missed you also.”

With a dramatic sigh, as if all was suddenly right in the world, the blonde hauled herself from her bed, making the short walk to Wednesday’s side before unceremoniously flopping down onto the much darker bed, pushing her face deeply into Wednesday’s pillow – being a werewolf wasn’t all that bad if it was this easy to revel in the array of smells that made up Wednesday, it was all dusty books, and ink, and blood and Enid loved it. Simply could not get enough of the scent.

Wednesday had watched Enid’s short journey from her own bed to usurping Wednesday’s. Normally she would at least act as if she didn’t want Enid in her bed – she always did, she often spent the nights they didn’t share a bed missing the warmth Enid filled her with. It was truly revolting.

But after seeing how drained Enid had been, she simply climbed into the bed next to her girlfriend, wrapping a tentative arm around the taller girls waist, pulling her closer so they’re bodies where touching in every way they could.

“What, no declarations of how the oh so mighty Wednesday Addams does not, under any circumstances cuddle?”

“If you insist on mocking me, I am more than prepared to let you go back to your own bed, Sinclair.” Yet, despite her words, Wednesday placed a soft kiss on the back of Enid’s neck.

“Nah, I know you missed me too much today, Wends. Our separation today has truly wounded my cardiac organ, it was an astonishing surprise when I had emerged from my day unscathed,” Enid struggled to hold in her laugh at what she considered to be a very accurate Wednesday imitation – because it was ­– whilst Wednesday dug her fingertips harshly into Enid’s side, making the werewolf let out a puppy like ‘yelp’.

“I warned you that if you were to do such a disgraceful imitation of me again, you’d wake up with Wolfsbane stuffed down your throat,” Wednesday growled, fighting to keep the smirk off her face at how impressed her girlfriend sounded with herself. “My family quite enjoys stuffed werewolf, actually. It would please Pugsley to have such a delicacy.”

At that, Enid spun around, Wednesday’s arm still tightly around her body, keeping them pressed flush against each other.

“You’re joking, right, Willa? Because that sounds like an Addams thing to do, and I don’t want to wake up at yours next break with Pugsley chewing at my ankles.”

Wednesday simply closed her eyes in lieu of a response, placing her head in the crook of the blonde’s neck.

“Wednesday, I’m serious.”

“As am I, Cara Mia,” no, she wasn’t, but this was far more amusing. “It’s late, and if you are not asleep soon, I’m forcing you back to your own bed.”

A snort left Enid’s mouth at the obviously fake threat, “I love you, you little demon.”

Now, Wednesday Addams did not do soft, and she most certainly did not do sweet, but despite it all she pulled Enid impossibly closer, held her even tighter. And against her better judgement replied with a soft, yet firm, “I love you more, my love.”

Yeah, she was whipped.

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