#i also know people have been running out of steam for theme weeks which is definitely fine! I just want to know if the effort i'd put in

[when-wax-wings-melt]

#no hard feelings im just. hmmmm #i WANT to. esp since it'll be around winter break #i know everyone is so busy with keeptober rn keep in mind this is a few months away hopefully enough to recover? #i also know people have been running out of steam for theme weeks which is definitely fine! I just want to know if the effort i'd put in #would be worth it or not lmao #summer rambles #kotlc

[tillidontneedfantasy]

A Track-by-Track Breakdown of Taylor Swift’s 10th Studio Album: ‘Midnights’

You would expect by the time a pop star has spent over 15 years in the spotlight that they would run out of steam. But on her 10th studio album, Midnights, Taylor Swift is as energized as ever. Even more impressive, the debut numbers are the biggest of her career yet, landing on a whopping 1.578 million, 1.1 million of those in pure album sales alone. These first week numbers are even larger than that of 1989, which is a huge feat.

Many pieces factor into success like what we’re seeing in this case. One is Swift’s exceptional marketing skills. Her dedicated fans will come out in droves to purchase her art, and the mysterious buzz that centered around the album intrigued the public to tune in. The star’s highly acclaimed releases of folklore (2021’s album of the year) and evermore (a 2022 album of the year nominee) during the pandemic certainly brought in a ton of new fans who perhaps overlooked her sharp lyricism before. But Taylor wants you to know that despite her magical stay in the forest and woodlands, she is in fact still bejeweled, and ready to remind everyone how much her shine still shimmers as a pop titan.

Presented as a loose concept album, Midnights centers on 13 sleepless nights throughout Taylor’s life (plus 7 songs on the “3am edition” that also fit the theme). Surely as she has been re-recording her albums as Taylor’s Versions, old feelings and memories have come to the surface that she is revisiting from a new perspective. Midnights still showcases Swift’s unmatched lyrical ability while taking us on a Jack Antonoff led synth journey.

1. Lavender Haze “All they keep asking me is if I’m gonna be your bride,” Swift laments on the opening track “Lavender Haze.” Which is funny because she spent 2019’s Lover with a bridge of wedding vows and a song about marrying her boyfriend of 6 years now, actor Joe Alwyn, with paper rings. But it is also an astute observation on how the world sees women, as she rejects “the 1950s shit they want from me.” She doesn’t want to follow anyone else’s wishes or timelines, or answer anyone’s questions, she just wants to stay staring at the ceiling with her partner, immersed in the lavender haze (a saying she caught from an episode of Mad Men). She knows that’s where she’s safest, because she’s “damned if I do give a damn what people say.” As an opening track, it delivers sonically and melodically, even in its smaller moments (the little “yeah oh yeah”s in the pre chorus are addictive), it’s a grand number.  Best lyric: “I’m damned if I do give a damn what people say.”

2. Maroon The title track of Swift’s project Red is placed at track two. So it’s no surprise that Swift placed a song with red shade as its title in the same spot. “Maroon” details all the little scarlet moments throughout the ups and downs of a relationship, some examples including wine, hickeys, the sky, and rust. The first verse shows the relationship at its peak, “laughing with my feet in your lap, like you were my closest friend,” and the second verse juxtaposes it with its breakdown, “sobbing with your head in your hands, ain’t that the way shit always ends?” The final chorus on the track holds some of Taylor’s most interesting (and sensual) vocal delivery to date, her lower register extremely impressive and underrated. Best lyric: “The rust that grew between telephones.”

3. Anti-Hero Do you remember in 2012 when everyone and their father would make jokes that Taylor Swift should write a song called “Maybe I’m The Problem” as a response to her breakup songs? Well, ten years later, she gave them something very close to what they asked. “It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem, it’s me,” she sings in the chorus of the lead single “Anti-Hero” (though not released prior to the album), which Swift claims to be one of her favorite songs she’s ever written. On folklore and evermore, Taylor sang about mental health struggles without explicitly saying that she was the subject of those songs. However, here, it is clearly autobiographical without question. As a fan, to hear her so blatantly say “my depression” in a song was both jarring and relatable. The track lays out her intrusive thoughts about herself, her maladaptive behaviors, ignoring people or pushing loved ones away instead of letting them in. While she sings “I’ll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror,” the song shows how much her music is safe haven for her to sneak a glance at her reflection.  Best lyric: “Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism, like some kind of congressman?”

4. Snow On The Beach (ft. Lana Del Rey) The dreamy “Snow On The Beach” is a romantic love ballad in which Swift is mesmerized by the fact that the person she wants actually wants her back. She can’t quite believe their love, and she’s afraid if she speaks of it, she’ll find out it was an illusion all along. Throughout Swift’s music, and especially in this song, she uses light to describe her partner, singing “I’ve never seen someone lit from within, blurring out my periphery.” While Lana Del Rey, someone Swift hails as one of her musical idols, mostly singing background vocals might seem like an odd choice, just like seeing snow on the beach, it’s “weird, but fucking beautiful.” Best lyric: “Flying in a dream, stars by the pocketful.”

5. You’re On Your Own, Kid “You’re On Your Own, Kid” is a journey through Swift’s life and career thus far. The song starts by detailing an unrequited love, which leads her to writing songs in her room and playing them in the parking lot, eventually running away and pursuing her dream of becoming a star. And although her dreams aren’t rare, her success surely is. But even at the height of her success, no longer sitting by herself at the lunch table at junior high, she still found herself alone. “I hosted parties and starved my body, like I’d be saved by a perfect kiss / The jokes weren’t funny, I took the money, my friends from home don’t know what to say.” She was degraded by the public and degraded herself. And just as things got better, her life’s work that she put her blood, sweat, and tears into was sold out from under her. But the Taylor’s Versions have been able to give her some solace, “Everything you lose is a step you take.” She ends the song on a hopeful note, reminding herself that she doesn’t have to be afraid; she’s always been on her own and she’s always made it through, and she always will. And the listener can resonate too. We’re all truly on our own at the end of the day, but we’ve gotten this far; we can keep going. Best lyric: “I hosted parties and starved my body, like I’d be saved by a perfect kiss.”

6. Midnight Rain On “Midnight Rain,” Taylor highlights the differences between the life she could’ve had and the life she pursued. “He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain / he wanted a bride, I was making my own name,” she (and a distorted voice) sings in the chorus. That life of a small-town girl is far away now, and not one she ever truly wanted, but one she sometimes sneaks a peak at through postcards and time portals and wonders what it might be like. Similar to “Lavender Haze,” this track establishes Swift’s aversion to societal standards, and her embracement of constantly changing and evolving, as evident through her music and career to date. It’s a real catchy ear worm, and after a few listens you really learn to love that voice distortion. Best lyric: “He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain.”

7. Question…? While Taylor leaves many hints as to what or who some of her songs might be about, “Question…?” Has one of her most obvious clues to date, as the song starts with a sampling of her song “Out of the Woods” from 1989, a song famously known to be about her relationship with Harry Styles. Not only is there the sample, but also lyrical parallels. “The rest of the world was black and white / but we were in screaming color,” she sings on “Out of the Woods.” On “Question…?” She says, “I don’t remember who I was before you painted all my nights a color I’ve searched for since.” One could assume while going back and rerecording 1989, she may have reflected on the relationship, with questions popping up. While it seems as if Swift knows the answers to these questions already, she still wants to ask them and get the confirmation and closure she’s searching for, a very relatable feeling. Just like in life, though, she doesn’t get any explicit answers in the song, but maybe she doesn’t need them anymore, anyway. Best lyric: “Does it feel like everything’s just like second best after that meteor strike?”

8. Vigilante Shit When listing the things that kept Taylor up at night, serving as inspiration for this album, one thing she cites is plotting revenge. In the revenge fantasy “Vigilante Shit,” Swift tips off the FBI about her enemy (presumably Sc**ter Br**n) and his “white collar crimes,” and assists his ex-wife in winning their divorce. “I don’t start shit, but I can tell you how it ends,” she croons. Which, historically, is true. Swift has rarely been the instigator of a feud or fight, but when she’s targeted, she comes back on top every time. After all, karma is her boyfriend. Best lyric: “Ladies always rise above, ladies know what people want / someone sweet, and kind, and fun / the lady simply had enough.”

9. Bejeweled “Bejeweled” is an exciting and fun pop song about letting go of the people and things that drag you down and allowing yourself to shimmer again. We can surmise that “Bejeweled” represents a night during a dead-end relationship where she finally prioritized herself again and learned she can still shine on her own right. In a radio interview, Swift said that “Bejeweled” mirrored her re-entrance into the pop landscape after her folk escapades, and that she had to pump herself back up into believing that she could still do it. The track itself proves that Swift stills rules without competition. Best lyric: “And when I meet the band, they ask, ‘Do you have a man?’ I could still say, ‘I don’t remember.’”

10. Labyrinth One of the few ballads on the standard edition, “Labyrinth” tracks Taylor’s thought process as she realizes she’s falling in love again, despite all of her fears after being burned in the past. She laments her pain and acknowledges her worries. The progression from “uh oh,” to “oh no,” to “oh,” before the line “I’m falling in love,” shows her trepidation turned to acceptance, due to the length’s this person would go to just to make her smile. While there are some synth sounds that seem slightly out of place, overall it is a song anyone who is learning to open up their hearts after being hurt can relate to. Best lyric: “Break up, break free, break through, break down.”

11. Karma “Ask me why so many fade, but I’m still here,” she sings on “Karma.” The answer? One could be her incredible talent and hard work ethic. But an additional answer is because her and karma vibe like that. In this catchy pop hit, Taylor reaps the rewards of staying true to who she is while karma takes down her enemies who never keep their side of the street clean. She knows karma is on her side, and she can relax trusting that it’ll do its thing. And so far, it has served her well. In the most Taylor Swift™ fashion of all time, she compares karma to a cat purring in her lap because it loves her. And it is! It does! Best lyric: “Karma’s a relaxing thought / aren’t you envious that for you it’s not?”

12. Sweet Nothing Co-penned by William Bowery aka Joe Alwyn, “Sweet Nothing” is a love song from Swift to Alwyn. She discusses all the negative things going on around her and the way people push and shove to get a piece of her, while her partner is just in the kitchen humming, asking nothing of her, just loving her as she is. We get a brief peak into their dynamic in the truly sweet lyric, “On the way home, I wrote a poem / you say, ‘what a mind,’ this happens all the time.” To be loved for your mind rather than your status is a gift for someone like Swift. I’m sure the poems are lovely. Best lyric: “Outside, they’re push and shoving, you’re in the kitchen humming / all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing.”

13. Mastermind A word that has been weaponized against Taylor over the years is “calculated.” On “Mastermind,” the standard edition’s closing track, she owns the claim, singing, “I’m only cryptic and Machiavellian cuz I care.” “Mastermind” is Taylor’s confession to her partner that she masterminded their entire relationship from the first night he saw her. She confides in him in one of her most personal lyrics yet, singing, “No one wanted to play with me as a little kid / so I've been scheming like a criminal ever since / to make them love me and make it seem effortless.” She thought no one could love her unless she tricked them into it. But upon her confession, his smile proves her wrong, because he knew the entire time that she thought she was masterminding their relationship, but in reality he went along with it because he wanted her too, schemes and all. She finally found her effortless love. Best lyric: “No one wanted to play with me as a little kid / so I've been scheming like a criminal ever since / to make them love me and make it seem effortless.”

3am Tracks

14. The Great War On the first 3am track, Taylor teams back up with her other folklore & evermore collaborator, Aaron Dessner of The National. “The Great War” seems to be about a fight in a relationship, and Swift’s difficulty bouncing back from it. She lays out her lack of trust from past relationships and how that has interfered with reconciliation efforts, as she sings, “And maybe it’s the past that’s talking, screaming from a crypt / telling me to punish you for things you never did.” But despite some of these maladaptive behaviors, her partner still reached for her hand, trying to make things right. And they did it, they survived, and that survival brought back her faith.  Best lyric: “You drew up some good faith treaties / I drew curtains closed, drank my poison all alone.”

15. Bigger Than The Whole Sky “Bigger Than The Whole Sky” is a song about loss. Although the loss of exactly what is unclear, the grief is palpable. She searches for what might have caused such a tragedy, wondering if she was at fault. There are so many questions in grief to which we never receive answers. This song has resonated with many fans online, relating it to their own personal experiences of miscarriages, deaths, and pet losses.  Best lyric: “Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness.”

16. Paris In this fun pop song, Taylor compares the view of her partner to that of the city of Paris. She’s so in love that she might stop breathing, that she doesn't care about her friends’ gossip or what’s on the news. She’s transported into a world of romance where nothing else matters, where alleyways appear and cheap wine tastes like champagne. It’s the excitement of completely falling into someone as the rest of the world fades away. Best lyric: “I wanna brainwash you into loving me forever.”

17. High Infidelity “High Infidelity” is an intriguing track, produced by Aaron Dessner, about the end of an unhappy relationship. We can presume that she is referring to her ex, the DJ known as Calvin Harris, her previous long-term boyfriend before meeting her current partner, with lyrics like “put on your records and regret me” and “put on your headphones and burn my city.” In the song, Swift is implying that there was some type of infidelity, whether physical or emotional only is not quite clear, but either way she admits, “I bent the truth too far tonight,” and asks, “do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?” But she didn’t think it would matter much to him, and is surprised by his sense of betrayal and hurt, but not particularly remorseful. Best lyric: “You know there’s many different ways that you can kill the one you love / the slowest way is never loving them enough.”

18. Glitch Another Antonoff produced track written alongside Sam Dew and Mark Anthony Spears, “Glitch,” is one of the sexier tracks on the album. The concept is that Taylor can’t quite fathom how this love of hers has worked out for 2,190 days (that’s 6 years, if you didn’t know) and counting when all she’s been used to is situation-ships and dudes who give nothing. So if it’s lasted this long, it’s gotta be a glitch in the system, right? Best lyric: “And I’m not even sorry / nights are so starry, blood moonlit.”

19. Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve While “Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve” is arguably one of the best tracks on all of Midnights, everything Swift does is for a reason. When you listen to the song, it becomes quite evident why she put it at track 19. “And I damn sure never would’ve danced with the devil at 19,” she sings. As an avid fan, you immediately hear the echoing of the best song on her third album Speak Now, “Dear John,” which has the lyric, “don’t you think 19’s too young to be played by your dark twisted games when I loved you so?” And it becomes clear what she’s discussing: the power dynamic in her relationship when she was 19 with John Mayer, who was 32 at the time (Swift’s current age). One could assume rerecording Speak Now (which Swift has highly hinted at being the next rerelease) brought up some old feelings. “Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve,” is a powerful track filled with intense regret. She describes him as a “promising grown man,” putting a spin on the monicker often given in defense of younger men who abuse women. She likens the relationship to religion: “you’re a crisis of my faith,” “all I used to do was pray,” “gone along with the righteous.” This was a man that she idolized, and the fall from his pedestal crushed her in irreparable ways. “Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first,” she pleads with a heart wrenching ache in her voice. It’s hard to listen to this song without feeling pain for her, especially as she ups the octave for the outro, making the regret feel more urgent, more palpable. Best lyric: “God rest my soul, I miss who I used to be / the tomb won’t close, stained-glass windows in my mind / I regret you all the time.”

20. Dear Reader The 3am edition closing track is “Dear Reader,” a letter to her listeners. She gives advice about avoiding traps, starting over, keeping secrets, and aiming for the devil. But she also gives the caveat, “Never take advice from someone who’s falling apart,” supposedly referring to herself. But the best advice comes from those who have fallen, who have experience, who feel a range of emotions quite like Swift does. That’s why she is so popular; because people can relate to her words and they keep them close to their hearts. “You should find another guiding light,” she suggests. But this sign can’t stop me because I can’t read! Best lyric: “You don’t have to answer just cuz they asked you.”

Target Deluxe Edition

Hits Different The Target Deluxe Edition exclusive song “Hits Different” marks the return of Swift, Dessner, and Antonoff all together. The song feels very vintage Swift, almost like it could’ve been a recent “From The Vault” track. “Hits Different” is about a breakup that is much harder to get over than any other she’s experienced. She hears their song everywhere, she stops receiving invitations because she can’t stop slurring his name when she’s out with friends, she cries over a hat. She’s so far gone in this breakup that she thinks people are coming to take her away. Anyone who has experienced a tough breakup could probably find a lyric in this song to which they can relate. But even without being able to relate, it’s a fun, funny, enjoyable track served as a nice treat for loyal fans who actually go out and buy CDs these days. Best lyric: “I pictured you with other girls, in love / then threw up on the street.”

---

In conclusion, 16 years into her career, you best believe Taylor Swift is definitely still bejeweled, and on Midnights she shimmers more than she ever has, even when touching on long-gone relationships and peering into old wounds, being more vulnerable than she has on projects past. Each album and era seems like her peak, yet she continues to outdo herself in multiple ways. With more Taylor’s Versions on the horizon, hopefully Swift will continue to gain inspiration in various ways as a result of revisiting her old work. But if she doesn’t, we know she’s always got some tricks up her sleeve.

DISCLAIMER - REVIEWER’S BIAS: Taylor Swift is the mother I never had, she is the sister everybody would want, she is the friend that everybody deserves. I don’t know a better person.

#midnights #album review #taylor swift #lavender haze #maroon #anti-hero #snow on the beach #lana del rey #you're on your own kid #yoyok #midnight rain #question...? #question #vigilante shit #bejeweled #labyrinth #karma #sweet nothing #mastermind #the great war #bigger than the whole sky #paris #high infidelity #glitch #would've could've should've #wouldve couldve shouldve #dear reader #hits different

[chamomileteainabuttercup]

For the ask game

🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write?

thank you!

🦅 I mentally outline fics in the form of daydreaming about them for a couple of days until I want to write them down. This is not very effective but there's only so much a woman can fight her own brain, especially for something I'm doing just for fun. On rare occasions I have managed to bullet-point the key details of a scene or interaction but I tend to be thinking about these things when I can't write (eg driving in the car) and then when I can write, well, I want to just write what I've thought about. I never have a plan for an entire plot and the few fics I've finished, I only thought of a satisfactory way to end them by happy chance. So it's mostly a pants thing.

I run out of steam on longer fics because the comments die off and they're such a huge part of what stimulates the development of the story in my mind, plus the feeling that no one is paying attention any more. I don't regard this as some injustice or insult, nobody owes me the response I would enjoy, it's just clear that what I'm putting out is not getting picked up and the energy I have for that idea fades. Then another one comes along. I don't know whether outlining and having a conclusion planned would change or fix this but for the above-mentioned reasons I don't think I can pull it off anyway.

👀 The only things I have officially "in progress" (as opposed to tacitly abandoned like Just Business, Nothing Personal, alas) are Wrought Iron, the Mandalorian/Book of Boba Fett Bobadincobb farrier domestic AU (and I know my steam on that is getting low which is sad, it might end up in the abandoned pile) and the Stranger Things 4 Steddie fix-it canon divergence which I called Rock Steady only because I couldn't think of a title and defaulted to a pun. I've been really enjoying writing that but it has only one posted chapter so far with very little engagement (it's been up a week or so and has 168 hits) so I suspect it's not what many people reading that ship want, or it's too much the same as what lots of people are writing - Eddie Munson survives his injuries, the ending of ST4 is softened (for Max's sake if no one else!), Eddie and my dearly beloved Steve Harrington have the opportunity for the undercurrent of attraction between them to develop.

Two cakes, yes, but there can be a glut on the market of a particular flavour of cake. Elements of people getting their lives back together following a disaster, a tight friend group expanding/absorbing a new member, recovering from the physical and mental trauma of a near-death adventure, learning which after-effects will heal and which are just a part of life now, supporting each other and growing closer, teenage/young adult starting independent life/failing to launch goofiness, internalised homophobia causing hesitation, panic and will-they-won't-they, and also intermittently worrying about maybe becoming some sort of vampire.

A theme that I wasn't expecting it to develop but that I think follows from what we've seen in the show, ever since in ST2 we saw that even before Dustin picked on him for help, Steve was still carrying the bat with nails in it in the trunk of his car, is Steve's sense that what he may want to do with his life is limited by the need to stay at his post, as it were, and be a guardian. If your life is developing into a vigil against a villain you can never be sure is vanquished, how do you look to the future?

🤩 Whoever I'm writing currently, really! I regularly switch POVs in romantic/smut fics because it's satisfying to know what both/all sides are thinking, particularly when neither is sure what the other is thinking and both are inwardly freaking out about it. In the current WIP, Eddie is great fun because he's a weird nerdy bogan with an off-colour sense of humour, and Steve is a little bit more of a challenge because of the delicate balance of depicting his intellect. Steve's kinda dumb, Steve doesn't think he's dumb which is part of his dumbness, Steve does nevertheless have common sense and is gradually becoming more introspective. I love him a lot so it's hard to do him justice, and I want to show him a good time.

#ask box meme

[sinner-as-saint]

His Obsession.

Mob!Seb x Housekeeper!Reader

Run-through: You work for the notorious mob boss. You’re at his house regularly; tidying up and cleaning and surprisingly you’re not scared of him like the rest of his staff are. Sure he is authoritative, and mean but he’s never disrespectful or inappropriate, nor does he bark orders at you like he does with the guys. And you were almost certain that he barely pays attention to you. Until one evening he confronts you about something. And what starts out heated, ends in a night neither of you will ever forget…

Themes: mob!seb (because I miss him), jealous!seb, housekeeper!reader, angst, fluff, dark (ish) mob!seb

a/n: this is my thank you note to all of you :) Enjoy! 

“Miss Y/N? Could you come here for a minute?”

You heard the sound of your boss’ voice. His voice.

Sebastian… You stop right at the stairs and turn around to find him standing by the door of his magnificent bedroom. One which you had cleaned and tidied just this morning itself.

You nod and he immediately walks back into his room and leaves the door open. Your heart pounded, and your body felt all cold for a second. Had you made a mistake? Was there something you did which he didn’t like?

You had heard from the butler a while ago that your boss once fired a guy for parking his favorite car in the wrong spot. The mob boss, after all, was a perfectionist. He was a very proper man with rules and regulations which had to be followed within the walls of his home. Hence, you were nervous like never before as you entered his bedroom.

He was sat on the dark grey couch by his bed, looking down at his phone and sipping on his liquor. The couch which always seemed so comfortable, and soft. But you never dared to even touch for too long, afraid to you might ruin it.

You would be lying if you said that you didn’t find him attractive. He was hot. He was perfect; mean, intimidating, and powerful. All of him screamed danger; but he was also the kind of man one feels naturally drawn to. His effortless bad boy charm, his authority and how he took control in the span of seconds made him lethal. Gorgeous, but lethal.

“Yes, sir?” you spoke up, trying to get his attention.

He looked up immediately and he had that no-nonsense look on his face. Oh you knew that look all too well. Earlier this week, he had the same look on as he punched the living shit out of a member of his gang who was sent to spy on his by a rival gang.

You realized that right now, as your boss looked at you, he was angry. His blue eyes were cold, and the intensity of his gaze made you shiver.

He spoke, “Yesterday was your day off, no?”

You nodded. He clenched his jaw and exhaled loudly through his nose; another sign pointing to his current bad mood.

You tried not to seem too intimidated by his stern gaze. “Yes sir.” You responded, still unsure of where he was taking this. Could it be perhaps that someone had messed up something while you weren’t here yesterday? But that still wouldn’t explain why he couldn’t just tell you outside.

Why did he have to call you into his room?

As soon as that question crossed your mind, Sebastian got up and walked over to you. His phone in one hand, and his drink in the other. He approached you as you stood by the end of his bed; slowly, steadily and making your heart race.

He stopped right in front of you and put his phone screen right in front of your face, showing you a picture. “Care to tell me about what’s going on in this picture?” he tilted his head to the side and stared deep into your eyes with his stormy ocean blue ones.

In front of you was a photograph. A picture of you at the club last night. You were sat on a stool by the bar, talking to a guy. His hand was on your thigh and you remember how much he was making you laugh.

You were shocked at first as you took in the details. A picture of you, out clubbing with some friends and this guy you met a few weeks ago. In fact after last night, you concluded that it’d be better if you were just friends.

“Why do you have my picture? Who took this?” you asked, keeping your calm with your boss even though you were quite irritated. Mob boss or not, how dare he spy on your personal life?

Sebastian smirked, definitely not finding anything amusing. “You tell me why you’ve been out and about with my rivals.”

Your eyes widened at his words. Rivals… what? It couldn’t be, the guy said he worked at… wait, the guy didn’t say anything about his work.

“Your rivals, sir?”

Sebastian locked his phone and threw it carelessly on the couch then turned to face you again. “Now, what does that say about me, Y/N? Why is someone who works for me, out and about with my rivals in my own club?”

His club… that explains how he must’ve have gotten the phototgraph. His people must have sent it to him. But why were they watching you?

“I didn’t know anything about all that. Why do you have people spying on me?” your irritation was taking over little by little.

He stared at you for a few more seconds as he recalled all that happened yesterday…

 -flashback-

Sebastian was at home, in his study when his phone rang. He saw that it was the manager of one of his clubs calling. Weird.

He answered rather annoyed, “What is it?”

The guy spoke up, nervously. “Boss uh, your girl is here.”

Sebastian froze.

“Who’s she with?” was the first thing which came to his mind. You were at his club which meant that you couldn’t possibly be alone. For some reasons, the thought of you out clubbing with another man made him want to punch something.

Yes, he was completely spellbound by you. The big bad mob boss had lost his heart to his daily. How could he not?

You were kind, and patient and always filled the house with warmth whenever you stepped in. Not to mention that the first time he saw you, you took his breath away. And no woman had ever done that before. And from that very moment, Sebastian found himself thinking about you constantly;

When he was at work. When he wasn’t at work. When he was in a boring meeting. Even when he was in the company of other women, he was obsessed with the thought of you.

However, it was hard to get you alone and talk to you. You were always busy and he was always surrounded by his guys or his guards. And he couldn’t seem all soft with his guys around. Although, he often worried about what would happen if you find someone else. Someone less dark and dangerous, someone with a less tainted reputation than him.

You probably deserved it, but he couldn’t let that happen. No, you were his. And he would treat you like a queen, if only you’d notice him…

He tried to talk to you often, calling you up in his room for absolutely no reason. Sometimes to help him tie his tie, or other times to steam his suits. He liked having you around, but he also knew that you would never see him in that light, given who he is.

But despite that, he wasn’t going to give up. He wanted you. Needed you. Craved you. Desperately. He needed you in ways he hadn’t thought were humanly possible. He wanted you in his arms, preferably without the black uniform and little white apron you wore each day. He wanted you in his bed, naked and lying on his sheets as he shows you how well he can treat you. Oh he would treat you like a queen.

And now he learnt that you’re out and about with another man. He was pissed. The manager’s response made the mob boss see red. He was almost ready to drive all the way there and punch the fucker you were with in the face and drag you to his home.

But no, he wouldn’t do that. So you were out clubbing with his rival gang members. Oh he’ll deal with it. “Send me a picture. And follow the guy when he leaves. Also make sure Y/N doesn’t leave with him, you hear me?” he barked on the phone.

“Yes boss.”

-end of flashback-

 “Because you’re mine.” he said it in an authoritative tone which both angered, and excited you. It was a confusing feeling, but you didn’t hate it entirely.

“Excuse m-,”

He cut you off by grabbing you by the waist with one arm and pulling you into him. “You heard me. Now answer me babygirl, why were you with this guy last night?”

Babygirl? Oh the audacity of this drop dead gorgeous man…

“With all due respect sir, my personal life is none of your business.” You sounded less confident than you intended to and it make Sebastian smirk.

“Oh?” he asked, amused. “Is that how it is now?” he pressed your body further into his, allowing you to feel that hard muscles of his tones body along with his body heat. “You’re gonna talk back to me?” he leaned in and nuzzled your cheek, making your heart race, “Disrespect me?” he chuckled right in your ear before pressing a kiss on the shell of your ear. You shivered at his voice.

“I don’t-,”

He cut you off again by pulling away and looking into your eyes. His stare was intense and hot, and so distracting that you didn’t realize his hand was making its way under your skirt. “You dare talk back to me?” he sounded amused, his hand reached further up your inner thigh and you shivered under his touch, “Even when you’ve been out and about, being a little whore,” he whispered, “with my rivals?”

You gasped at his choice of words, and how his fingers gently stroked along your clothed core. Where was this coming from? You also gasped at how you liked it. “I… I didn’t know.” you mumbled as you tried to hold back a moan which threatened to escape your lips due to his salacious actions.

He chuckled, applying the slightest bit of pressure against your throbbing clit and he noticed how you squirmed in front of him. “But now you do. And I’m gonna make sure that you remember from now on that you,” he leaned closer, his lips brushing against yours, “belong to me.”

You felt hazy as he pulled away from you just a couple of inches. Your heart pounded. Your body was on fire, your mind only being able to focus on only one thing – him. His mouth. His body heat. You wanted him closer all of a sudden. So close that you almost began leaning into his touch even more.

You hadn’t realized that the palms of your hands were pressed against his chest. He felt warm, and muscular. Fuck…

“Kneel.” He simply said and you were immediately in a trance. You lowered down on the carpeted floor instantly, on your knees. Sebastian just smirked and caressed your cheek gently. “I want your mouth around me. Come on, make me cum.”

That damn authoritative and powerful tone sent shivers down your spine. You quickly undid his zipper and pulled down his briefs. His hard cock stood proud and tall in front of you. Your mouth watered shamelessly at the sight of it. Thick and big, you realized you wanted him just as much.

He was bigger than any one of your past partners, and that excited you. Your hands instinctively wrapped around his length and you placed the tip against your lips, kissing it and feeling the pre cum coating your lips. You pushed your mouth against it, taking in the tip and swirling your tongue around him.

He groaned, his hand holding your head and guiding you further down his cock. You took him in your mouth slowly, inch by inch; his raw taste drove you crazy. And so did the sounds which left his mouth. Sebastian slid his hand through your slightly messy hair and gently guided your mouth up and down his cock; while slowly sipping on his liquor at the same time.

You bobbed your head around his tip a few more times and soon, he came in your mouth; sending his seeds down your throat. You swallowed whatever he gave you, and stood up after you did so.

He gripped your hips tightly as he dipped his head into the crook of his neck. His hand slipped under your skirt again and he dragged your underwear down your thighs. He placed his fingers against you and rubbed your wet folds again. You couldn’t help but moan, desperate for his touch despite this whole situation being wrong.

“Hmm. You did good, babygirl.” he whispered along your collar bones as he licked and bit the skin; leaving marks behind. Claiming his territory like he always wanted to. “But I’m not quite done with you yet.” He sounded mischievous.

He lifted his glass up to your lips. Still hazy and heart pounding, you parted your lips slightly as he tilted the glass at your lips and let some of the liquor into your mouth. You immediately liked the taste, it burned just a little as you swallowed. However he smirked and tilted the glass more than he should, and the contents went over the lip and down the sides of your mouth – dripping down your chin, your neck and your somewhat exposed chest which was making him go crazy as it is.

“Oh,” he pointed out, pretending as though all that wasn’t down on purpose, “Such a messy girl.” He sighed dramatically while undoing your apron, followed by the zip at the back of your uniform, “Now I have to clean you up.” He looked into your eyes and smirked.

You caught the naughtiness in his eyes. And next thing you knew, you were being pushed back onto his bed; half naked already. “Lay down for me sweetheart.” He ordered and you hesitated for a moment.

“Should we-,”

He cut you off by holding your jaw gently in his grasp. “Shh.” He let go of your face and leaned in to kiss your lips. His tongue gently stroking your lower lip, gathering the liquor which dripped earlier. Then his mouth trailed downwards, kissing your neck, your collar bones down to your breasts – licking and kissing and leaving behind his marks on your skin.

Your body felt hot. Burning under him as he took his time and kissed every inch of your skin. “I’ve always wondered,” he spoke up as he pressed kisses down your chest, “how sweet you must taste. And now look,” he chuckled as he kissed further down, “I get to figure it out finally.”

Maybe it was the sound of his deep voice laced with lust, or maybe it was the confession about how he thinks about you in such an intimate way; regardless, it only fueled the fire deep within you. Supporting yourself up on your elbows, you looked down at him all settled and ready in between your legs. Then you saw the shift in his eyes.

He was all cocky a second ago, but now he was feral. His fingers found their way in between your legs as well, carefully parting your wet folds before slipping inside you. Your body welcomed him in with ease.

Then his following question made your heart race. “Did he touch like this last night?”

You widened your eyes. Does he think that you slept with the guy? “What, no. I-,”

Sebastian leaned in again, and hissed in your ear. “He better not have. Else he won’t live to see another day, babygirl.” His fingers stroked you gently. “You should know, I don’t like sharing. Especially not my girl.”

Fuck… he was messing with your head so easily and wonderfully, and you were letting him.

Sebastian smirked, speeding up and finger-fucking you faster. You whined and squirmed but you wanted more. Oh you wanted more.

You threw your head back and whined loudly, your body betraying you as you felt your walls clench around his fingers. He smirked. “Oh? You wanna cum, is that it?” he leaned in closer, whispering against your mouth, “You want it so bad, don’t you baby?” he teased; chuckling darkly.

You moaned, and whined and tried your hardest to keep quiet but you ended up being loud anyways. His touch, his stare, his words… his cold rings pressing against your hot body each time he pushed his fingers deeper inside of you.

You wanted more. And he knew. “Look at you,” he whispered in awe, kissing along your jaw and biting down on your skin occasionally as his fingers took you higher…and higher, “So perfect… and all mine.” he bit down on your neck as you squirmed; wanting so desperately to crush his arrogance at once, but also wanting him to dominate you. “Cum for me. Now.”

You let go, allowing the warmth to take over you. Releasing and savoring the sweet pressure in between your legs and you came with a strained cry all over his fingers; coating them with your arousal and making his bite his lip and swear at the sight of you so… disheveled.

Your underwear was off, your bra unhooked, your little black uniform on his bedroom floor and your almost naked body on his bed sheets – this was all Sebastian’s ever dreamt of. This moment right here, and now that he had you; he wasn’t going to be easy on you.

“You’re mine.” he repeated. You were still recovering from your previous orgasm that you didn’t realize his mouth was on you again. Closer. Hotter. And determined to make you cum again, his mouth latched on to your core, the lower half of his face completely submerged in between your folds.

You moaned out loud, involuntarily, as you felt his warm mouth on top of your dripping core. His tongue slipped past your folds and teased your entrance; occasionally flicking your sensitive bud mercilessly. Your hands immediately gripped his hair and tugged gently at his roots. Wet sounds erupted from where his mouth latched on to your core, “You taste so good, babygirl.”

You whimpered under his touch, feeling his beard rubbing against your soft skin; it burned a little, but you enjoyed each and every second of it and craved for more. His mouth felt good. So good that you wanted more and more with each passing second.

“Fuck…” you moaned out loud as your back arched off the cool satin sheets for just a moment, your eyes closing and your head leaning back as you felt a wave of intense pleasure wash over you. Intense and hot, just like his touch. He was taking over you and you were letting him yet again. He was hard to resist, you knew that since day one.

“You’re gonna cum for me, is that it, hmm?” he whispered and got back to teasing your clit with his warm and wet tongue; relishing your taste.

“Please, please….” You murmured. He chuckled, his warm breath fanning your wet folds.

“Come on now, ask nicely.” He whispered, biting down on your hip bone before kissing his way back to your clit.

Your eyes flew shut and you whined, and begged – not caring if you sounded coherent or not. Once satisfied, Sebastian got back to eating you out like there was no tomorrow. The pressure in between your legs was building up nicely as well. So with a few more strokes of his skilled tongue, you let go and gushed out all over his face; your eyes watering.

He didn’t stop, he kept at it while your orgasm washed over you; lapping up whatever you gave him. He couldn’t get enough of you. He licked you clean and kissed your thighs a few more times before finally standing up, admiring how much of a mess you were; panting, and trembling just with his tongue.

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispered, looking down at you. He had that same feral look in his eyes, the desire unhidden. Shameless, and raw. Passionate. He wanted you and he wasn’t hiding it. He wanted to own you. Ruin you in the best way possible. “Get on your hands and knees. Now.” he ordered and proceed to finish his drink before he was onto you again.

Discarding his expensive suit, lifting your hips up and securing an arm around you; you knelt in front of him on the bed, legs spread apart, hands gripping the sheets while your back faced him. You couldn’t see him, but you knew he was there – right behind you. Plotting all the ways in which he could play with you.

Sebastian trailed a finger lazily up your spine before sliding his fingers into your hair. He gripped your hair gently, and pulled back just enough so he got your full attention. His lips hovered over the side of your throat and his other hand reached around and toyed with your folds; his fingers furiously rubbed the skin around your clit and making you tremble.

You could feel his warm skin, and his hard on pressing against your butt. And your heart raced in anticipation.

“You’re gonna take me nice and good, aren’t you baby?” his voice was deep and gravelly when he spoke in your ear, his tongue licking along your neck while he abruptly stopped toying with your folds. You whined and nodded, unable to hide the fact that you wanted him bad. So bad.

His hand gripped your hair and tugged on it, harsher than earlier and his action elicited an involuntary moan out of you. “Good girl.” He noted and gripped the sides of your hips tighter. He pushed into you without a word said; earning a sinful moan out of you. You were all wet and ready for him, and he slipped inside you with ease.

He groaned and grunted as he filled you up entirely; your ass cheek pressing into his pelvic bone as he buried his cock into you. Your knuckles gripped the sheets tightly, and your head lowered as your felt the familiar pressure forming again in no time, given you were already so sensitive and sore from before.

You were barely able to keep yourself up, and if it weren’t for his tight grip on you, you would’ve collapsed on the bed long ago.

“So fucking good… you’re all mine…” Sebastian spoke in a haze, and you barely heard him as the only thing you focused on was the sounds your bodies made when in contact with one another; along with your whimpers and his incoherent words. The air around you smelt of sex, sweat and Sebastian’s cologne.

He pounded into you like his life depended on it. Stretching you out and filling you up each time he rammed his cock into your entrance. You moaned, worn-out and still craving more and more of him. You could feel the soreness his touch would leave behind, and the bite on your neck, and all of the other marks he left on your skin.

With a few more strokes of his thick cock, you felt his felt his cock throb against your walls. You tightened around him, feeling your orgasm so close that you could almost feel it taking over you. But just as you were right on the edge, he pulled out and flipped you around. His rough manner of handling your body turned you on even more.

He smirked when he saw the look of surprise on your face. “Can’t give it to you that easily now, can we?” he chuckled. “I want you to beg for it.” He parted your legs, and settled in between them again, his cock slipping inside you once again. “Beg for me.”

His mouth soon found yours and he nibbled on your bottom lip and you let out ragged breaths. He was taking over all your senses and you were more than happy to surrender to him. While he fucked you raw, his hand moved up to your throat again. His fingers wrapped around your throat and forced you to open your eyes and look into his. “I said,” he growled, “beg.”

A thin layer of sweat formed on his face, as he fucked you relentlessly; earning more and more moans out of you each time his cock stroked your walls. Your lips parted as you gasped. “Sir please… please make me cum…” you whined, “I need you-,” you cut yourself off, moaning wantonly as he filled you up nicely.

He grunted and moaned shamelessly right in your ear and the sound sent shivers down your back. Your legs started to shake as he quickened his pace. He pounded into you incessantly. You could feel the headboard knocking against his bedroom wall, and the sound echoing around the room, along with your moans and his growls.

“Are you gonna cum? Do you deserve it, huh?” he mocked you, his hand reaching up and grabbing your jaw tightly in his grasp. “Look at me, babygirl.” He urged you to focus on him, despite knowing that you were barely able to concentrate on anything other than how well he was fucking you.

You stared into his eyes; tears escaping your eyes, lips swollen and bruised, neck littered with his bite marks, and your eyes just as wild and passionate as his. “Are you gonna remember now? That you belong to me?” He stayed still inside you for a moment, letting you feel just how big he was. You whined and groaned as he stretched you out like no one ever did. “That you’re all mine?” he growled.

“Yes… yes, sir.” You mumbled, pleading him with your eyes. Begging him to let you cum.

Sebastian saw the desperation in your eyes. The silent plea. He knew you wouldn’t be able to take it any longer. But he had to make himself clear. “Tell me, who do you belong to? Hmm?”

“You.” you gasped. Please…

You felt like you were losing your mind. The pleasure was too much and you couldn’t hold back anymore. So, you gushed out around his cock; moaning and squirming in the process. He moaned out loud when he felt your walls pulsating violently around him. His thrusts became irregular as he came right after you, filling you up again.  

He didn’t pull out. He just kept his throbbing cock carefully buried in you as he lowered his face and pushed it into the crook of your neck. Both of you panting and wondering; what the hell just happened, and how did it escalate this quickly.

You recovered and tried to move, but failed miserably. Sebastian noticed and smirked to himself despite the fatigue.

“Come here,” he spoke gently pulled you into him. You settled in comfortably into his side, surprisingly. His body was warm, and he smelt familiar. “Get some sleep. I know you’re tired.”

You widened your eyes and looked up at him. He smiled and reached out to caress your cheek. “Sorry if I hurt you. I- I can’t see you with someone else.” He repeated again, “You’re mine.”

You sighed. “I work for you.” you pointed out wearily.

He scoffed. “Then congrats, you’re fired.” He said it like it was nothing. You sighed and tried to scoot away but his grip was strong. “Hey, I’m serious.” He argued. “Stay, don’t go.” He pleaded.

You were too weak and worn out to move anyways, besides his bed was comfy so you stayed. You were quiet for a minute then you spoke up. “What happens now?” you asked.

He chuckled, and his tiredness could be heard. “Now I ask you out, and you say yes. And we live happily ever after.” He answered.

You rolled your eyes. “And my job?”

“Baby, I have enough money to last us a couple of lifetimes.”

“I refuse to be dependent on you. And certainly not a burden.” You sounded tired too.

“None of that. You’ll be my queen.”

You snuggled closer to his warm body as he covered your naked body carefully with the soft blanket. “You’re so bossy. And controlling. And mean.” You mumbled, half-way asleep.

He gave you a sleepy chuckle. “Yeah but you like me. And don’t you dare lie, I’ve seen the way you look at me.” He argued.

You chuckled faintly, eyes closing on their own. “Bossy and controlling and mean, but handsome.” You corrected yourself.

“Hmm.” He liked how he was right. “Now go to sleep babygirl, I’ll be here when you wake up.” He leaned down and gave you a kiss on the forehead, and whispered, “I’m gonna place the world at your feet if you just ask for it. Don’t you worry about a thing, angel. You’re mine now, everything will be alright.”

At last, his girl was finally here with him. Totally, and entirely his.

 ---

a/n: thank you for 14K followers Sin Army! I love you guys so much. I’ll add the tag lists tomorrow I promise ;) 

#sebastian stan au #mob!seb #mob!seb x reader #mob!seb smut #cherry!seb #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan

[notaninterest]

Carnal *2* (Hisoka x Reader)

[A/N]: sorry for not updating on this passing Thursday! I had a major life event occur so i had to break away for a week. here's chapter 2!

also i know it says [Y/N]'s POV, but it doesn't tread all the way back to the first few scenes. It's a continuation from where you left back last time :)

enjoy!

Warnings: graphic smut, heavy sexual themes, Hisoka becoming tired.

‘Well at least he’s handsome.’ You had thought to yourself when you first spotted him in the corner of the bar, almost completely hidden by the shadows. You had to avert your eyes quickly so he didn’t notice that you noticed him, focusing back on your pole work. You have to attract him to you somehow. But how?

You can feel his gaze on you and you swallow, deciding to switch up your routine. You clench both hands on the pole, keeping your arms straight. You make sure your ass is in full view before you start gyrating your hips to imitate the act of doggy style. You could feel your nervousness bringing your nen out so you quickly use Zetsu and switch to In to keep any traces of aura away. It was only for a split second. No one could’ve noticed it. You stand back up, hands still on the pole as you walk up to it, beginning to try to climb up it. The atmosphere was the same, rambunctious one it’s always been, but a clean sense of tension easily struck your body. You stumble a bit as you attempt to further climb up the pole. Damn! He noticed. You stuck out like a sore thumb to him. You could tell by the way his gaze bore into your face rather than your body. He wasn’t interested in what you had to offer, like the rest of the people here. He was instead interested in figuring you out. Fuck. You desperately try to focus on your dance, but as you’re sliding down the pole, your crotch rubs against it and you gasp. Touches like these were a stranger to you. You never had the time to form any sexual relationships, so you never experienced something like this before. You let up, feeling embarrassed but quickly continuing on with your dance. The music ends soon and you walk as calmly as possible back into the dressing room before beginning to panic. Your cover was blown and there was a limited amount of time you had before Hisoka approached you. You decided you were done with dances for the night and you would refuse any lap dance requests. Sex was a service you didn’t provide so you didn’t have to worry about that.

Until the boss that had hired you waltzed into the dressing room a few minutes later, connecting his slimy eyes with your clearly panicked ones. You came to him four months ago asking for a job after you had set your sights on hunting the magician after passing the Hunter exam. You had found out he frequents this specific joint once a year to “blow off some steam” according to your informant. You planned to catch him off guard while he went to the back rooms with one of the dancers and, hopefully, end his reign of fear amongst the people. The owner of the strip club allowed you in and you worked your way up to becoming one of the better dancers there, despite not having any previous dancing or sexual experience. You were impressed with yourself. Plus you made bank, so it wasn’t a bad profession.

Your boss walks up to you, pulling you aside. “The man you’re looking for has requested a room with you.” You flinch. “What? I thought I told you--” “Cut the shit. I already tried to explain to him that it’s a service you don’t provide, but he was rather...persuasive.” You could immediately tell by the way the man’s eyes shined that there was money involved. Must be a hefty amount too judging by the way he was talking to you. “Anyway, go please him. I’m not giving you a choice. It’s either that or you lose your job.” The boss says before turning around. You swallow your pride. You couldn’t afford to lose this job. You kind of enjoyed it. “For how long?” You ask. “The rest of the night.” The man replies before slinking off into his office. “What?! You expect me to stay holed up in this room for twelve hours?!” You angrily spit, but the boss was already long gone. Your hands clenched into fists. This bastard! He requested you for twelve hours?! You were going to give this asshole a piece of your mind.

_______

You squeak as your weak body is flipped onto your stomach. He intended to use the rest of the time on you?! You turn to look at him over your shoulder. “Wait just a damn minute! You’re crazy if you think for another second that I’ll- ah!” You expel a noise of surprise as Hisoka bites your left asscheek, a sultry look settling in those damned yellow eyes of his. He licks over the area to soothe it and you grit your teeth, looking at him with eyes full of anger. You flip back over to face him in all of his...naked glory. You blush at the sight before you. He’s certainly what those others call well-built. He’s bulky, but the perfect amount for his frame. The magician sits up on his knees, watching your dilemma. Your eyes trail down his body, following his ripped chest, the eight-pack that lays on his abdomen and then to his still hard cock, which makes your eyes bug out of your head. How did that thing fit inside of you?! Your face is a scarlet red as you stare at it, seeing it covered in your juices. “Do you like what you see, [Y/N]?~” Hisoka husks, smirking at your reaction. He knows he’s well-endowed, the cocky bastard. You clench your teeth, shooting a glare his way. “Listen here you son of a-” “Ah ah.” He silences you quickly, flipping you back onto your stomach. “While that little exchange was certainly entertaining, I’m not finished with you yet.” His voice grows more serious and you find yourself swallowing in nervousness. “Now, how long have you been here, scouting me out?” He asks, a claw trailing up your sensitive back. You can’t help but react, arching your back as the sharp finger rolls up your spine. “L-Like I’ll tell you anything more.” You huff, glaring at him over your shoulder. Hisoka stares back at you before smirking that trademark smug smirk, returning his hand back to his side. “Very well…” He seductively drawls, grabbing your ankle and dragging you towards him. You squeak at the sudden movement, feeling his heat behind you instantly. You let out yet another noise of surprise as your lower half is lifted into the air, stopping at a certain height. You look over your shoulder to see that your pussy is once again level with his mouth. You blush even more. “N-No. Not again.” You whimper, looking helplessly into his dominant yellow gaze. Hisoka chuckles. “Then tell me what I want to hear.” He deadpans, an unamused look on his face. You can’t reveal the statistics of your mission, so you lower your head in defeat. “I cannot tell you…” You whisper. “Then I will continue until you do.” He remarks lowly. You feel his talented tongue descend on your lower lips once again, and you can’t help the moan that spills from your mouth.

Damn. He’s really got the upper hand on you. There’s no escaping him as he has an iron grip on your hips. You cry out when he sucks on your sensitive clit, wiggling a little in his grasp. He chuckles, simply tightening his grip. You squirm fruitlessly, letting out obscene noises as he relentlessly snacks on your leaking pussy, leaving you no room to escape. You eventually hit your peak again and spill all over Hisoka’s mouth. He greedily laps up all you have to offer, moan slightly while doing so. After he’s finished, he drops you on your stomach, allowing you to recover from your orgasm. You flip into a sitting position, sighing and angling your head downwards a little. Hisoka suddenly shifts behind you, whispering, “Did you enjoy yourself?”

Your expression hardens into one of anger. “You...You asshole!” You snap, swinging your fist into his smug face, which materializes into a cloud of dust that dissipates as soon as your punch is thrown. “Oh [Y/N].~ Your continued attempts to hurt me only serve to turn me on further.” He purrs into your left ear. In your anger, you’ve failed to notice that he’s broken a sweat. You sneer, throwing back your left elbow in another attempt to hit him. You’re met again with thin air. All of a sudden, you’re picked up by your shoulders and thrown face first into the bed. Before you can even lift yourself back up, a powerful hand pushes you down by the shoulder blades, pushing your front down and leaving your backside up. One of your flushed cheeks presses into the mattress and you get a peripheral view of Hisoka admiring the position he’s put you in, his yellow eyes dark with desire. “This one is my favorite.~” He rasps, placing his cock at your entrance. Your eyes widen. You squirm a bit, trying to maneuver away from him but he holds you there by your scratched up hips, not letting you escape. “Anything you have to tell me before I start again, [Y/N]?~” He murmurs. He runs his dick up your wet slit. You mull over your options, finding that there’s only one you can make. With your silence as his answer, he slowly enters you again with a shaky breath. You open your mouth in a silent scream as he splits you open yet again. “O-Oh fuuuck.” You wail into the bed sheets as he fully seats himself in, clenching within your fists tightly. Hisoka chuckles and begins thrusting, the pace hard and punishing. His hips smack against your ass, the sound of skin smacking into skin filling up the gaps between your moans and his. He digs his claws into your hips, cutting deeply into them. You yelp in pain, but it’s soon overshadowed by the pleasure of him thrusting into you. You faintly notice the blood running down your legs, but you pay no mind to it. “Ah!” You scream in a higher octave as he hits into you rather harshly, brushing a rather sensitive spot within your pussy. Hisoka pauses, stopping all motion. “Oh?” He murmurs to himself. You can feel the devilish smile radiating off of him. Your eyes are closed so you don’t start crying from how unbelievably good it feels. Your body is shaking from the immense pleasure and you can’t stop the desperate whimper that leaves your throat from the lack of friction. “Hmm…” Hisoka hums, a delighted chuckle leaving his mouth at an apparent discovery he’s made. Just what was this clown up to?

You let out an obscene cry as he resumes his thrusting, aiming for that sensitive spot deep within you...and he hits it every single time. “H-Holy- AAAA- !!!” You scream as loud as you possibly can as this man hits this point every single time with each well-timed stroke. Tears prick your eyes as the pleasure is immense. You can feel your orgasm coming, but it feels different from the others. “Wai- S-Stop! I don’t-” Your cries fall on deaf ears as he lifts you up by the hair, pressing your back against his chiseled chest as he fucks you upright against him. You can hear him panting heavily in your ear, an occasional sound coming up. He wraps his pale, brawny arms tightly around your midsection, fucking you as hard as he can. He continuously hits that point deep with you, making you scream an ungodly amount. “His-Hisoka! S-Stop! I won’t-” You shake your head from left to right, reduced to an incoherent, blubbering mess. Hisoka, however, seems to be riled up by the fact that you said his name, thrusting into you with more fervor. With one last thrust up into that sensitive spot, you cum. But as you cum this time, you squirt. Hisoka holds you upright as you make a mess of him, the pillows, front-end of the sheets and fluffy throw-over. You convulse around him as you spray the bed, your body jolting each time you squirt. Your mouth is agape the entire time in an airless wail, drool dripping down your chin. He lets go of you when you finish your spectacle and you fall limply onto your cum, unable to move. You listen as he takes a deep breath, shakily exhaling. “Oh wonderful.~” He moans, moving into your recovering vision. The black spots eventually fade from view and your face to face with the smiling, sweaty magician. He holds an expression of happiness, one that contrasts drastically to your defeated one. “What could you possibly be smiling about now?” You grumble, your extremities feeling numb. “I haven’t had one that can squirt in so long. You’re going to be so much more fun.~” He lustifully drawls, backing out of your view soon after. So that’s what that was? It sure is intense. You feel him petting your head, laying on the other side of you. He’s waiting for you to recover. How...nice? The silence that overtakes you two is comfortable. It prods a stem of information out of you. “Four…” You say, breaking the silence. “Four what?” “Four months. I’ve been stationed here to scout you out for four months now.” You whisper, shakily raising yourself up to a sitting position. Hisoka looks pleased. “That’s all I’m going to tell you.” You firmly say, refusing to spill anymore vital information.

“Mm...I don’t think it is.” The transmuter frowns, grabbing you by the neck. He gives your throat a light, warning squeeze. “Eh?! But you used me already! You’re done!” You exclaim, your two nimble hands wrapping around his wrist in an attempt to retch his hand off of your neck. Hisoka simply smiles, pointing downwards. “I haven’t even cum yet.” His point is emphasized by his still hard cock, which is absolutely drenched in your juices at this point. “And we’ve still got nine hours left.” He smiles, letting go of your throat. You swallow. Just what have you gotten yourself into? You lean into your hands, using the support to keep you upright. You look down at him as he rests against the semi-soaked pillows with his hands tucked beneath his shoulders, his eyes closed and that same signature, lazy smug smirk written all over his face. You decide to run your gaze over his bare body, taking it all in. This is the first and most likely last time you’ll ever be able to see it, so you take advantage of it.

So...this is what the body of a trained mass murderer looks like. There’s only muscle, not a single ounce of excess skin being apparent on him. You look up at his angular face. All points of his face were sharp. Not a plane untouched. It’s then you notice his hair sticking to his sweaty pale forehead. His makeup appears smudged as well, making it apparent that he’s wiped his face from the amount he sweat. He still holds a formidable amount of stamina, but he can sweat. At least he’s not invincible to normal human woes, unlike many others claim. He’s not nearly as sweaty as you though. You look over the muscled plane of his chest. His two pectorals jut out intimidatingly. He’s certainly ripped, judging by his eight-pack that follows suit. You wonder what intense training he had to undergo to obtain abdominals of that capacity. You shiver. Nothing good. You know that’s for sure. Then comes his erection, which is resting against his stomach, hard as ever. It twitches, surely unhappy that it hasn’t released yet. You swallow. You have no idea how you’re going to get him to achieve his peak after you’ve reached your own around a total of four times now, each more intense than the last. You shift your gaze, moving to his toned legs. He had some killer thighs. You can only dream that your plushy thighs will reach that amount of muscle and definition. His calves were just as strong. His feet were clawed just like his hands. You realize that the more you stare at him, the more you lust for him. Damn your carnal desires. Yet...you have him for another nine hours. You can take your fill...and surely you wouldn’t want to be near him again, right? Yeah. That has to be right. You decide that it’s your turn to become the predator, smoothing a hand over his abs. The hard muscle contracts at your touch and you see him open one yellow eye in the corner of your left eye. Perfect. Let him watch you enjoy his body. You trace the dips in between each muscle, watching intently as the abdominal muscle contracts under each of your touches. It’s kind of beautiful in its own sinister way. You continue this until you reach your face down, running your tongue over each one instead. You hear him grunt under his breath, a smile forming on your lips as you proceed, licking all the way down to his member. As soon as you reach it, you stare down at it as if you’re starving, craving the taste of it. And at the current moment, you were. You stand his dick up with your hand, gazing at the length and thickness of it. This monstrosity has been inside you twice and you didn’t have much time to explore it with your mouth earlier. You peek over at his face. Both of Hisoka’s yellow eyes are open, watching you closely. He remains in his restful position, seeming to encourage you to discover on your own. You smile to yourself.

You move your hand up and down his dick softly, watching and feeling as it twitches in your hand, excited to have some attention. You smirk, moving so you’re in between Hisoka’s legs this time. He moves to accommodate you and you get yourself comfortable between them, staring up into his dark gaze as you hold his hard cock. He’s not smiling. You keep eye contact with him as you kiss the tip of his dick, kitten licking it. His upper lip twitches, but he remains impassive otherwise. You smile, accepting the unspoken challenge. Keeping your eyes trained on his, you suck his tip into your mouth, running your tongue around it. It appears to be sensitive, telling by the way he hisses and the way his body shivers. His eyes narrow a bit and yours remain open, wanting to see his raw reaction. He doesn’t break eye contact with you. You suck him further into your mouth, slowly of course. He grits his teeth, sucking in a breath. You run your tongue on his sensitive underside, drawing a shaky exhale from him. You keep going down, relaxing your throat when he reaches that point. His yellow eyes alight in surprise as you keep slurping him down all the way to the bottom. As he cock fills up your narrow throat, he throws his head back, strain apparent in the muscles of his neck. A choked moan leaves his lips and you cheer victoriously in your head. Your lips eventually touch the base of his dick. You’ve successfully swallowed him whole. You pause for a moment. Then, you swallow around the mass in your throat, listening as a laboured breath exhales into a deep, breathy moan. With your newfound skill, you lurch back all the way, sucking yourself back to the bottom quicker now. A heated hiss reaches your ears and you watch as his head raises back up, his eyes reconnecting with yours, alight with a fiery desire. You smile in your head, looking at him with an innocence that drives him utterly crazy. You continue your ministrations, drinking in all the noises the magician makes. “S-Such a - uhhn! - ggggood girl!” He pants, a strained smirk reaching his face. Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the sound of his praise. This must’ve turned him on more than anything because you hear a loud, “Ohhh fuuuck!” You smile to yourself, continuing to suck him off before he eventually spills into your mouth, which you swallow. You pull back and look down at Hisoka, who’s panting heavily. Sweat adheres to his whole body. His usual slicked back hair is now all over the place and his usual calm demeanor is replaced with that of a mess. You look down at him in shock. You caused...this? You smile. You’re proud of yourself. It must be one of the rarest things to see Hisoka Morrow looking like this. And damn if you didn’t deserve it!

“Tch.” Hisoka tuts, looking away in...shame?! “Eh?! What?!” You exclaim in confusion. One of the most feared people in the world? Shame?

“Not very many people get to see me like this…much less a sex worker like you…” He sighs, an aura of utter shame surrounding him. Your left eye twitches. “Excuse me! I’ll have you know I’m more than just a sex worker!” You yell at him, smacking his shoulder for added effect. You grit your teeth, crossing your arms before you get too rough with it. “It’s just…,” He continues, piquing your interest. “None of them have made me do this before.” And he scoots up, tucking his legs into his body and sitting up in them, turning so his back is facing you. You gasp as you see deep scratch marks lining up both of his shoulder blades. They lined up perfectly with Hisoka’s own hands. “You...did this to yourself?” You ask softly, reaching out to prod around the wound. He covers it with his hand though, turning around to face you once more. Your hand then lands on his pale cheek instead. Hisoka pauses for just a brief moment, stunned. He enraptures your right hand in his left one, moving your hand closer to his mouth. You yelp in surprise when he bites your palm, throwing your hand away from his face. He smirks. You shake your hand in an attempt to will away the pain, glaring at him. You shove him with a Nen-powered blow. It clearly doesn’t do anything and he slowly falls backwards, dramatically plopping on his back. You roll your eyes. A lazy smile makes way to his face. “Say [Y/N]...Would you be willing to do more work this time? I’m feeling a bit tired.~'' It's only then you notice he’s erect again.

You bristle. “What?! Hisoka, you horndog!”

Hisoka chuckles deeply. “Sorry, I can’t help it staring at you.”

You blush heavily from that comment, crossing your arms again and turning away. You hear him move too late before you can evade and he grabs you, pulling you atop of him. You have to place your hands on his chest to stop yourself from falling forward. You first look down at him in some sort of surprise, then one of anger. “I’m not just a sex worker, Hisoka.” You snidely comment, sitting up straight and crossing your arms. He frowns. “I know you’re not, [Y/N].” He replies honestly, nothing giving way to any form of deception whatsoever. You look at him again and sigh. “I can’t.” You mumble. Hisoka pauses. “Come again?” “I can’t.” You say louder, looking away bashfully. Hisoka tilts his head. “Why not?” “Because I’m not turned on.” You say flatly, looking him dead in the eye. His yellow eyes grow dark with lust. “I can change that.” He rasps. “Yeah but you don’t want to do any-“

“Come sit on my face.”

You blink.

“What.”

“Come sit on my face.” He repeats in that same seductive voice of his, the same mischievous grin on his face, the same sultry look in his yellow eyes.

Your face shines a brilliant shade of red. “What’s wrong, [Y/N]? You’re looking a bit...flustered.” Hisoka chuckles. You swallow your pride. Hisoka knows what he’s doing. “Okay. I will.” He smiles deviously at your consent, watching your crawl up and over his face. He places his hands at the tops on your thighs, willing you to sit on his face. As soon as his mouth connects with your pussy, he sets straight to work, claiming every inch with his mouth. Your body convulses in surprise and you let out a choked moan. His eyes haven’t disconnected from yours, watching you intently. His tongue manages to slip inside you and you gasp, letting out a wail of pleasure. His grips tightens on your thighs and his hips raise slightly. He quickly settles back down, continuing to feast on you. You grab the top of the headboard for balance, subconsciously beginning to grind against his face. Hisoka’s breathing changes instantly and he’s quick to move out from beneath you. You pant, sitting on his navel. He wipes his mouth, licking his lips. He still wears his signature smirk, albeit lazily. “You can’t do that, [Y/N].~ You almost made me skip the main course.” Hisoka murmurs huskily, getting comfortable. You position yourself over his dick, looking down at him nervously. He smiles up at you, easing your anxiety. You slowly begin to sit down on his hard cock, gasping as he fills you up yet again. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the feeling. You struggle to get the rest of him inside of you, but you manage at your own pace, fully sitting down on him now. You whine at the feeling of being so full. Hisoka shakily exhales, gripping the sheets below him. “Don’t be afraid to move, [Y/N].” He growls and you get the point, pushing yourself up and back down. You whimper as Hisoka grunts. You place your hands on his toned chest for leverage, pressing down as you push yourself up again, pulling yourself up to his tip before sinking back down. You set a steady rhythm, moaning up a storm. Hisoka lets his own pleasure be known through deep groans and shudders. It felt different in this position. His cock seems to be going deeper within you. Your moans end on a higher octave because of this. Hisoka seems to be enjoying this just as much, thrusting up to meet you in the middle. His hand creeps up your body, starting by rubbing your clit a few times, making you squeal. He then rubs his hand over your stomach, enjoying the beauty of it. You grow flustered at his actions, feeling shy. He eventually slides up your body to reach his goal: your boob. You squeak at his light squeeze on your right breast, slightly messing up the rhythm of your bouncing. Hisoka smirks with gritted teeth and flips you on your back, effectively taking over. He speeds up the pace, causing you to raise your voice. “Ahn- fuck! Hi-Hisoka!” You moan loudly, your toes curling as your orgasm approaches fast. “Are you -pant- gonna cum again, [Y/N]?” Hisoka groans, fucking you as fast as he can. You nod your head vigorously, too caught up in the feeling of your body almost breaking with the pressure building up. Hisoka smiles at your response, moving his hand down your beautiful stomach and reaching your clit. With just a few more circular motions on it, you snap, arching your back with a cry. Just like that, he sends you flying into the realm of ecstasy once again. You’re blinded by a white light before you finally come crashing down, back landing flat on the bed.

You were breathing hard, your arm laying over your eyes as you calm down. You hear Hisoka lay beside you, panting as well. When you feel calm enough, you lower your arm from your face, looking over at Hisoka, who’s resting peacefully beside you. His hair was disheveled from his usual slicked back style. It now rests over his sweaty forehead and the pieces that aren’t resting on his forehead are slicked back behind his ears and the back of his neck. He looks like quite the specimen right about now. He glances over to you as well, feeling you examining his face. It boosts his ego. He smiles lazily, running his eyes over your face. He really appreciates your features. They were so gorgeous to him, especially those [e/c] eyes. He’s too worn out to do anything more, so he rests his eyes, falling asleep.

You decide to take a nap as well, tired from all the activity.

You soon pass out for an undetermined amount of time.

*******

Word count: 4700+

Next chapter should be expected next Saturday, May 15th. I will hold to it this time!

#hisoka x reader smut #hisoka smut #hunter x hunter smut #smut #yuhhh

[drabbles-mc]

One Of Them Girls (Part 2)

Angel Reyes x F!Reader

A follow-up to This Request from @lakamaa12​

Warnings: language, slight steam towards the end, Angel being?? the sweetest human

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Back by popular demand! It took me a little bit to get into the groove of a part 2 for this one but I really like how it turned out. Angel is the sweetest and he deserves the best. Hope y’all enjoy!

Angel Reyes Taglist: @mayans-sauce​ @encounterthepast​ @helli4nthus​ @lilacyennefer​ @angelreyesgirl​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @starrynite7114​ @rosieposie0624​ @queenbeered​ @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ @sincerelyasomebody​ @mijop​ @sadeyesgf​ @xladymacbethx​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @blessedboo​ @appropriate-writers-name​ @holl2712​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @sillygoose6969​ @beardburnsupersoldiers​ @louisianalady​ @gemini0410​ @paintballkid711​ @chibsytelford​ @yourwonkywriter​ @sesamepancakes​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @georgiaaintnopeach​  @plentyoffandoms @twistnet​ @themoonandthewicked​ @garbinge​ @bucky-iss-bae​ @enjoy-the-destruction

You woke up late the next morning to the sound of your roommate clamoring around in the kitchen. You wanted to be annoyed but when you looked at the clock, your eyes went wide. It was almost noon—and you had to be at work in two hours. You let out a deep sigh as you got out of bed.

You got ready as quickly as you could, opting out of doing much of anything with your makeup and hair. It wasn’t like your manager was going to care anyway. You strode into the kitchen, immediately grabbing a travel mug from the cabinet for your coffee.

“You slept late,” Elena said with a hint of amusement in her tone, “Long night?”

You chuckled and shook your head as you dumped coffee into your mug, “Not like whatever it is that you’re thinking. He just gave me a ride home, that’s it.”

“Mhm,” she leaned back against the counter, unable to wipe the smile off of her face, “You left his hoodie hanging off the bathroom door.”

You sighed, looking up at the ceiling, “It was cold, and he let me borrow it.”

“You can say you like him, you know,” she laughed, “The ground isn’t gonna open underneath you if you say you think some guy is cute.”

You smiled but shook your head, “I gotta go—slept through my alarm,” you gathered up your purse and keys, “You got plans tonight?”

She shook her head, “Nope. You?”

“None at all,” you laughed, “I’m recovering from all the human interaction yesterday.”

“Thanks for coming. I know you didn’t really want to.”

You took a sip of your coffee, “Hate to say it, but it was actually pretty fun. So, thank you,” you chuckled, “But I’m not doing shit once I get home from work tonight. No extra human interaction for me.”

You said goodbye and took off out the door. You hadn’t even made it to work yet and you already couldn’t wait to be back home. There was one more semester between you and finishing college, and you couldn’t wait until you could actually get a full-time job that you enjoyed. You were lucky that you worked in a restaurant where your coworkers and your boss were all good people, but you couldn’t wait to be done with it.

When you came home, you were hit with a wave of heat and the scent of good food as soon as you walked through the door. Your body instantly relaxed as you kicked off your shoes and tossed your purse onto the couch. Elena watched and shook her head at you with a smile.

“Welcome home, honey,” she laughed as she grabbed plates out of the cupboard.

You laughed, “So glad I get to come home to you,” you walked into the kitchen and looked over everything that she was making, “Real talk though, thanks for taking care of dinner.”

“Think of it as my thank you for coming out with me last night.”

“Are you trying to reward me into socializing with people?”

She laughed, “Would it work?”

You looked back at the food, “…maybe.”

“Speaking of which,” she started piling food onto her plate, “Angel texted me today.”

“Everything alright?”

She waited for you to look at her again, “He asked about you.”

You already had a forkful of food in your mouth, “What about me?”

She laughed, “He was just letting me know that he had a really good time with you and wanted to see you again. I guess after the whole ass-beating comment he felt like he had to get my approval. Which…was smart of him,” she smiled.

You laughed, “Oh my god,” you shook your head, “Put the fear of god in the poor guy.”

Despite the fact that you were trying to play it off, you couldn’t deny that the fact that Angel had reached out to her about you felt good. It made you feel like he might’ve been taking the whole thing at least a little seriously. You didn’t know just how serious you were looking for things to be, but you knew you weren’t in the mood to be jerked around by anyone.

Elena must’ve seen each thought cross your face because she nudged you gently as you both walked over to the couch, “You good?”

You snapped out of it, nodding, “Yea, I’m good.”

“If you don’t wanna see him again, you don’t have to,” she took a bite of her food, “I mean I love the guys but I’d be the first to say that they aren’t for everyone.”

“No,” you shook your head, “It’s not that. It’s just, I dunno. I don’t even know what I’m up for, you know?”

She nodded, “I know. I think he might be good for you, honestly. He’s a good guy. A little impulsive sometimes,” she shook her head with a smile, “But he’s got a good heart.”

You knew that she wasn’t lying about that. You could feel that emanating from him when the two of you were sitting and talking the night before. You nodded and didn’t say anything more about it. She put a show on the television and your previous conversation fell by the wayside. It was hard not to think about it, though.

Once you were done with dinner, you hopped in the shower. You were in your room, getting ready to change into your pajamas for the night when your phone started to go off on your bed. Seeing Angel’s name flashing on the screen sent nervousness and excitement through you at the same time. You sat down on the bed still in your towel and took a deep breath before answering.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Everything alright?”

“Yea,” he chuckled, “just wanted to make sure you really gave me the right number.”

You laughed, “For a moment I thought about playing the John Cena theme song just to give you a good scare.”

Along with his laughter you could hear a lot of voices in the background, and you assumed that he was at the clubhouse, “Your sweetness overwhelms me.”

You couldn’t help but to laugh, “Believe it or not, that’s not the first time someone has said that to me,” you paused, biting at your lip as you waited for him to say why he was calling, “Not that I don’t want to hear from you, but was there a reason you called?”

The pause that followed was unsettling, but finally you heard him take a breath, “Yea. I, uh, I just wanted to know if you’d want to go out sometime,” he paused for a moment, “With me.”

You smiled, “With you? I mean, in that case,” you let slip a quiet laugh, “I might be able to budget some time in my schedule.”

“Really?”

“Not even I am mean enough to joke about that,” you chuckled.

He laughed, “Okay. Wow. Um, okay, yea. How…how does Thursday night sound?”

“Sounds good.”

You could hear him let out a sigh of relief, “I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“It’s a date,” just saying the words made you feel giddy. You were curious about one thing, though, “What made you decide to call and ask?”

His laughter had a touch of nervousness to it and you found it hard to believe that he was a man that got nervous about much of anything, “I was gonna wait a couple days so you wouldn’t think that I was a creep. Or a clinger,” he laughed for a moment, “But I, um, I couldn’t get you outta my head.”

Your entire body felt warm, “You’re sweet.”

“Sometimes,” he laughed, “Also Coco said that if I didn’t say something he would call you up and say something for me. And neither of us want that.”

You shook your head and laughed, “Right.”

There was a beat of silence, “So I’ll see you Thursday?”

“I’ll see you Thursday.”

The relief was palpable in his voice, “Alright. Have a good night, querida.”

You were thankful that he couldn’t see the cheesy grin on your face, “You too, Angel.”

You hung up the call and tossed your phone to the side as you flopped backwards onto your bed, still wrapped in your towel. You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as you stared up at the ceiling. You covered your face with your hands, unable to remember the last time a phone call left you feeling so giddy.

As if on cue, Elena came sliding into your room, “Did I just hear you confirm a date with Angel?” her smile stretched from ear to ear, clearly thankful for the thin walls of your apartment.

You wanted to have a witty remark but you were too busy being excited. You laughed and nodded, “You did.”

“Yes!” she ran over and tackled you in a hug on the bed, “Oh this is so exciting!”

You laughed as you felt her practically vibrating with excitement for you, “What’d I just get myself into?”

“An adventure!”

You had lived through a lot of weeks that seemed to drag on, but nothing quite like the week leading up to your date with Angel. Focusing in your classes was doable, but it wasn’t easy when you could feel your phone vibrating inside your backpack with texts from Angel. It caught you by surprise that he was able to text you and keep a conversation going all day—the two of you didn’t seem to run out of things to talk about and it was refreshing.

Your work shift on Wednesday night felt like it lasted for a lot longer than six hours. You just wanted to get the day over with already so it would finally be Thursday. In all of your conversations during the week, Angel had never let slip what the plan was for your date the following night. It was a little maddening but you also couldn’t deny that you liked the slight mystery of it all. He had done you the courtesy of letting you know that you wouldn’t have to dress up for it.

“You sure you’re not just setting me up to be super underdressed?” you asked while you talked on the phone with him Thursday afternoon.

He laughed, “That’d be funny, but I promise I’m not doing that.”

“Hmm,” you held the phone loosely in your hand while you pulled random tops out of your closet, “I don’t know if I believe you.”

“No trust,” his smile was audible.

“Don’t take it so personally,” you chuckled.

“You worry too much, querida,” he laughed, “You’ll look great no matter what. I’ll see you in a few hours, alright?”

“Alright, I’ll see you in a bit.”

The two of you said a quick goodbye and you tossed your phone aside with a sigh. Being told to wear whatever for a date felt like a trap. You had a number of shirts laid out in front of you, taking over your bed. Part of you wanted to do the unthinkable and ask Elena for fashion advice, but you weren’t sure you were ready for everything that might entail, especially if it was supposed to be casual.

You mulled over your choices for a minute too long, though. She was walking by to go to the kitchen when she saw you standing in your leggings and bra, looking over your choices. She poked her head in and cleared her throat louder than necessary.

“Can I weigh in?”

“Would me saying no even matter?”

“Nope!” she laughed as she walked over and looked at the shirts on your bed, “Where you guys going?”

You shrugged helplessly, “No clue—he won’t tell me. He just said that I could wear whatever I want, whatever I’m comfortable in. Said it’s nothing fancy,” you paused, “Should I believe him?”

She nodded, “Yea, I don’t think he’d lie about that,” she tapped her chin, seemingly deep in thought, “The red top is cute, plus it’ll look nice with the leggings.”

“Yea?”

“Yea,” she picked it up and handed it to you, “He’s gonna think you’re hot regardless of what you wear. As he should,” she chuckled.

You had to laugh as you pulled the shirt on over your head, “Thank you.”

She left you to your own devices after her initial piece of advice. You knew that you were getting ready way ahead of schedule, and that realistically all you were going to do was sit and wait and let yourself get more jittery than necessary. But now that you had started getting ready it was hard to distract yourself and kill time until Angel came to get you.

You took longer than necessary with your hair and makeup solely to try and keep yourself busy for as long as possible. Every few minutes you looked over and checked the time on your phone, each time disappointed that more time hadn’t gone by. You drummed your fingernails on the surface of your dresser, trying to think of ways to fill the remaining time before Angel showed up to pick you up.

“You can come out here and help me with laundry if you’re that bored,” you heard Elena call from the living room with a laugh, “I can hear your fingernails from here.”

You laughed but caved and made your way out to her, finding a spot on the couch next to her in the mess of unfolded, clean clothes. She tossed you a shirt and you shook your head as you began to fold and stack with her, glad to have a menial task to fill the time and keep you from going too insane.

The two of you were wrapped up in a conversation, and you had completely lost track of the time, when you heard a knock at the door. Your eyes grew wide and you checked the time on your phone, cursing under your breath as you stood up. You asked Elena to go and answer the door while you went to find a pair of shoes to wear.

You could hear the two of them chatting and laughing as you grabbed a cute pair of sneakers that had gotten shoved underneath your bed at some point. You were pulling it over the heel of your foot, hopping down the hallway towards the living room where Angel stood waiting for you.

You felt your eyes go wide as you looked at him. He looked like a completely different man without his kutte on for some reason. He just had a plain black t-shirt on with his jeans and work boots, but for some reason you felt all of your words get caught in your throat.

“You look great,” he said with a smile, “You ready to go?”

You nodded, “Yea, yea I’m good.”

You walked over and were following him out the door when Elena caught you gently by the arm, “Relax. Have a good time. If you need to bail just text me and I’ll totally call with a fake emergency.”

You laughed, “I don’t think that’ll be necessary, but thank you.”

“Text me when you get there,” she gave you a quick hug goodbye.

“Will do. Love you.”

“Love you too,” she waved and shut the door after you.

You met Angel in the lobby of your apartment building. He looked over at you with a smile, “All good?”

You nodded, “All good. Elena was just making sure I still had my pepper spray.”

“I’ll never know peace with you two around, will I?”

You laughed, shaking your head, “Not at all.”

“You up for another ride on the bike? Or was the first ride too traumatizing for you?”

You rolled your eyes, “I’ll be fine.”

Handing over his helmet with a smile, Angel climbed onto his bike and waited for you to hop on behind him. You got situated, arms wrapping around him much more comfortably this time around. You rested your chin on top of his shoulder for a moment, a smile creeping across your face.

“So do I get to know what we’re doing, yet?”

“Nope,” he shook his head with a laugh, “Hang on tight, Y/N.”

The way your name rolled off his tongue left butterflies in your stomach, but you didn’t get too much time to think about it as he peeled away from the curb and took off down the street. Besides the roar of his motorcycle, your laughter was the only thing that either of you could hear as he tore down the street. You could feel his body shake slightly with laughter beneath your arms as he drove.

The streetlights blurred as the two of you raced by them. Even if the city was whipping by you at race-like speeds, you had to admit that there was something beautiful about all of it. Despite the fact that there was no pausing to look at anything for too long, flying past dimly-lit storefronts in your sleepy little town felt like an adventure all its own when you found yourself latched to Angel.

Your ride didn’t last nearly long enough. As excited as you were to get to the next part of your date, you could’ve spent the whole evening just doing that. He rolled into the driveway of a house, one that you had to assume was his. You couldn’t hide the fact that you were surprised as he parked the bike and hopped off, holding out his hands to help you do the same.

You hung the helmet off the handlebar as you looked back and forth between Angel and his house. He saw the slight look of confusion on your face and chuckled, “Everything alright?”

You laughed, trying to play it off, “Yea, just figured you’d take me to dinner before you tried to take me home.”

He shook his head as he gently rested his hand on the small of your back and guided you up the driveway, “It’s a one-stop shop, baby,” he couldn’t contain his laughter at the way you rolled your eyes at him, “Nah but I know you said you really don’t like going out and doing shit around people. Figured this might be more your speed?”

Your face got hot for a moment and you nodded, “Thank you.”

“It ain’t much,” Angel said as he unlocked the door, “But the kitchen works which is the most important thing.”

You chuckled and nodded in agreement as you followed him into his house. Once you slipped out of your shoes you looked around, trying to get a feel for what you were walking into. You had the feeling that he put a little extra effort into straightening up the place given the current circumstances. Even so, his house still felt very much like a home. It wasn’t overly cluttered, but there were a good number of photos on the walls, along with more than a couple bookshelves that were filled to the brim in the living room, taking up wall space on either side of his television.

“I prepped most of it,” Angel said as he walked over to the kitchen, “Just gotta put it together. Shouldn’t take too long. You can snoop around while you wait if you want,” there was a knowing smirk on his face.

You laughed, “There’ll be plenty of time for snooping. I’m much more interested to see what you can do in the kitchen.”

“You think I can’t cook?”

“It’s not one of the first skills I would’ve assumed you had, no.”

“No fuckin’ trust,” he laughed.

You found yourself leaning against the counter, watching him as he started pulling everything together for dinner. You had to admit that you were impressed by his culinary skills. For a man who didn’t come off as someone who spent a whole lot of time in the kitchen, he seemed to have a pretty good idea of what he was doing. Or if he didn’t, he was good at faking it.

“You should keep your fingers curled a little more,” you commented as you watched him start to slice the items laid out on the cutting board.

“What?” he looked over at you.

“Yea, like this, lemme show you,” you took the knife from him and showed him the proper way to keep your fingers bent, “That way you won’t accidentally cut the tips of your fingers off. Keeping them intact will probably make it easier to ride, yea?”

He chuckled as he took the knife back from you, “Maybe.”

That was the last time you interjected into his process unless he asked you to grab something out of the fridge or one of the cabinets for him. It was peaceful, comfortable, moving around the kitchen with him.

“You want to pick a movie to watch with dinner?” he asked as he was finishing things up on the stove.

“Sure! You’re not gonna cut off any fingers while I’m gone, are you?”

“I think I’ll be alright. I made it this many years and I still got all ten.”

You laughed as you walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch. You scrolled through what Netflix was recommending for him, trying to get a good gauge on what you should be choosing. This definitely felt like it was a little bit of a test.

“Sorry if there’s weird shit popping up on there,” he chuckled, “Coco uses mine and his interests are…unique.”

You laughed, “So that’s your story?”

“And I’m sticking to it,” he smiled at you as he brought over two plates, setting them down on the coffee table before disappearing back into the kitchen to grab drinks for the two of you.

Dinner was much better than you initially thought it was going to be. He was certainly a man that was full of surprises. You had to admit that you were surprised at how comfortable you felt around him, especially in his own house. He was making a conscious effort to try and be as open and inviting as possible, and it was working.

Once you were both done eating, you found yourself nestled up against his side, his arm draped around your shoulders. His thumb traced lightly back and forth as his eyes stayed focused on the movie. You tried to stay focused, but it was difficult. You reached and draped your arm across his stomach while you laid against him and you felt him chuckle.

“Comfortable?”

You looked up at him with a smile, “Yea. You?”

He gave you a light squeeze, “Yea.”

The two of you fell silent for a few minutes before Angel started his own commentary about what was going on in the movie. You had to laugh, shaking your head as he successfully ruined every serious moment. It was obvious that both of you had seen the film before, because you were both cracking jokes about it.

When the credits started to roll, Angel looked down at you with a smile, “Thanks for doing this with me.”

You sat upright, “Of course. No need to thank me—I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

“Hopefully it lived up to your expectations?”

You nodded, “Surpassed them for sure. Like I said, I didn’t think you could cook,” you laughed.

He chuckled and shook his head as he stood up, collecting your plates, “Y’know sometimes you can just be nice.”

You watched him, trying to ignore the butterflies taking over your stomach, “But where’s the fun in that?”

He walked back over, standing by the couch with a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. You could see that there were a lot of thoughts running around his brain. “We can totally watch part 2, which was basically made to be made fun of, unless you wanna get going—”

“No,” you cut him off, biting your lip lightly at how eager you knew you sounded, “I’m in no rush, really. I’ll totally stay and talk shit for a few more hours.”

He smiled as he sat back down next to you, motioning for you to come and curl back up against his side again, “Sounds good to me.”

Your hand was resting against his chest as you laughed at a stupid joke he’d just made. You felt his hand come to rest over yours, completely enveloping it for a moment. It sent a wave of warmth throughout your entire body. You almost didn’t realize what was happening as he lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. Your entire face started to get hot as you looked up at him. There was a smirk on his face and you knew that he knew exactly what he was doing to you, even if you didn’t want to give him that kind of satisfaction.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

You smiled, finding yourself biting back a laugh as you nodded, “Yea, I think I’ll allow that.”

He laughed, “I did cook you dinner like you asked, right?”

You rolled your eyes, smile still taking over your features, “Don’t make me change my mind.”

“Right, right,” he gently cupped your face in his hand and pulled your lips to his.

Almost instantly you felt yourself melting into him. Your hand still rested on his chest and you could feel how quickly his heart was beating. You smiled into the kiss as you felt his thumb glide gently across your cheek while his lips moved against yours.

Without giving it much of a second thought, you shifted yourself so that you were in his lap, straddling him. His arms fell naturally around your waist, keeping you pulled tight against his chest. Your hands rested on either side of his neck, fingertips tracing along his jawline as he continued to deepen your kiss, biting lightly at your bottom lip.

You pulled away to catch your breath, your lips mere centimeters away from his. Your entire body felt like it was on fire and you couldn’t remember the last time someone had made you feel that way from just a kiss.

He let out a breathy laugh as his hand ran up and down your back, “You’re somethin’ else, Y/N.”

“You don’t even know the half of it,” you laughed as you leaned back, trailing your fingers lightly through his beard.

He lifted and easily shifted you so that you were draped across his lap, curled up into his chest. One hand rested on your side while the other landed on your knee. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I’m more than willing to find out if you’ll let me.”

You smiled up at him, “I just might.”

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #angel reyes #angel reyes x you #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes fanfic #part 2 #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

[my-hyperfixation-trash-can]

Hetalia’s Russia and DID/OSDD 1-b

Hey! So @autistic-hetalia your blog said you accept neurodiverse head canons and I thought maybe I could share this one with your blog!

I believe the Hetalia character of Russia has OSDD 1-b (Otherwise Specified Disociative Disorder or possibly DID, being Dissociative Identity Disorder) and this is why.

Just a note,

There is no such thing as an evil alter. Do not demonize people with DID or Other Dissociative Disorders! Those with this disorder are victims of Trauma and are likely to continue being victims of abusers, rarely do they become abusers!

Anyways, -cough cough- I’d love if anyone wants to add to this with more evidence!

1. Russia had a traumatic childhood

He is shown to have had abusive bosses who would punish him. He is threatened by one to invent steam power by the end of the week or be punished. Tartar Yoke mentioned by Lithuania as one of his bosses was also known for his cruelty. So the Authority figured in his youth were often cruel and held power over him.

His environment is cold and unforgiving much like an abusive home. Russia often describes his home as cold, quiet and lonely. He rarely found support from his land and often struggled to get by. The environment and home were harsh with little support. It is also implied he froze to death each Winter, and celebrated the year he didn’t.

This is on top of having to deal with other nations attacking him, making him feel helpless. Many nations “bullied” him in attempts to conquer him. He was mobed and pursed every day by Mongolia. That is exhausting to have everyone around you be a threat. (Lithuania and his sisters were the only nations kind to him in his youth) Early on, he learns that force and strength are what matters.

Next point tw sexual abuse and assault

He also felt a great deal of responsibility to care for his sisters. He was close to them, as they were experiencing similar issues and not violent to him. He had to be the strong one. Belarus and her unhealthy attachment to Russia depending on the age she started her behaviors may have also contributed to his trauma. All of the siblings have unhealthy attitudes towards boundaries with their bodies and the bodies of others, implying another type of abuse. Ukraine and Belarus took victim roles. Russia took on an abusers. Ukraine only ever suggests using her body to get what she wants as if never taught anything else, even as a child that’s what she knows. Belarus I don’t know where to begin, but her staring off is certainly dissociative like, paired with other trust issues. In a diary entry she is stated to have possibly messaged Ukraine’s breasts, once again showing more unhealthy boundaries with attachments to loved ones. Someone taught her that. And Russia, who internalized his abusers, acted out his abuse on others as implied with Lithuania looking distressed dressed as a maid and Russia holding a whip. In another non canon game Himaura worked on, Bulgaria in the bad ending is shown tied up and naked implied to be whipped by Russia as Russia says this is “tradition” or possibly more routine implying this is something he does often.

The idea with dissociative disorders is that the repetitive trauma that happens has to be too much for the mind of that individual child in comparison to the culture they’re raised in, and it conflicts with getting their needs met. And to the countries, all of them know Russia has had a life with far more conflicts in his youth than most, and a great deal of pain.

2. Russia has General Winter (GW for short)

General Winter manifests when Russia is being attacked by other nations in order to defend him, or to be a tormentor to Russia himself (such as freezing him to death each Winter).

This is oddly similar to what is known as a persecutor alter. These alters have the goal in mind to protect the host or body, but they’re a bit misguided in how to do that. They might take on the form of an abuser, or something outside the body, this turns into being an Introject. I’ll post a link to more info on DID/OSDD at the end of the post. The educational videos playlist will have a video on alter roles.

Russia’s bosses often abused him, and if he had an alter like this it would make sense that it would take the form of a general, someone in power who feels so much bigger and stronger than him. A boss who can push him around and make him behave in a way that will avoid further trauma from the real abusers. Winter the season, being another tormenting force of the environment, is another abuser, and it makes sense GW would take that into his identity. Russia feels helpless to it. It is also worth noting that other nations who also had to deal with Harsh winters do not have General Winter as an ally. He only protects Russia.

It would also explain why General Winter protects Russia from others attacking him. He took the ideologies of his abusers to heart, so GW pushes people away and treats them like threats. He feels strong by holding power and fear over others and force. If I can be stronger, no one can hurt me or would dare try, this is the mentality.

I believe GW can manifest as he does because Russia has magic. It’s canon that Russia can do magic or has a strange magic of his own, so whose to say GW can’t utilize it too. Perhaps even to let himself manifest sometimes in his spirit like form. This is more a headcanon or idea though.

Russia himself however is shown to be very passive with his bosses. These are people who hold power over him that he can’t really run away from or fight. So his response is to faun or freeze. This is basically stated in the comics (picture below.) and it’s often that alters have a specific role. Russia’s would be to people please those who he can’t fight. Making General Winter’s job to defend from attack.

3. Russia is shown to dissociate

When he is told to do an impossible amount of work, he just straight up loses himself in a fantasy immediately to escape the reality of the situation. There are other instances too, some in his childhood directly, but this was the most overt. This is from To your Hearts content, Russia!

4. Russia Is Inconsistent

There are times when Russia feels very different from moment to moment.

He goes from open about himself to swiftly sadistic and cold. He has moments of childish behavior to moments of maturity. These, when combined with the rest of my points, are worth noting. He both wants to hurt (possibly destroy) the others, but also be liked by them?

You can’t destroy people and have them like you.

The baltic Trio who lived a substantial amount of time with him still are confused by his unpredictable behavior. Each encounter The Baltic’s have with Russia is marked by a fear of what he might do. And not having certainty, thus they say things without knowing if it’s safe or not.

Even to Lithuania, (Whom Russia often shows Vulnerability to, in moments like bloody Sunday and Sharing his dreams in Outsourcing Sequel)living with Russia feels a strange theme park where he never knew what to expect. Lithuania has been shown to be great in strategy and games of wit, and a commendable leader with great people skills, yet he only has a general idea of Russia’s behavior? He is seen advising Prussia and Moldova that Russia likes it when people laugh or cry easily (This being predictable to Russia and thus easier to navigate social situations with) so it’s not like Lithuania isn’t paying attention. Russia shows moments of vulnerability and his thought process in panels like Bloody Sunday, which is quite telling as to what he believes are his responsibilities, and how the world works.

Now the real question is “why is he like this?”

He only understands the world from the point of view of someone who still lives in the abuse and knows no other options. He never had anyone teach or show him different. His world is ruled by who is the strongest, and if you can obey the strong you won’t get hurt or discarded. “We don’t want children who can’t play nice,” sounds like something an abuser told him frequently in his youth.

Russia just doesn’t have a support system due to his strained relationships with everyone. So he keeps relying on old defense mechanisms, hence letting General Winter step in when something threatens his sense of safety.

Nearly Every time (at least that’s what I noticed) Russia is emotionally vulnerable to someone, he suddenly changes to be sadistic or scary. It successfully pushes the person away and Reestablishes the fear of Russia in the individual, returning him to a state of being feared and alone where none of the other countries can hurt him. Examples below.

France talking to Russia after meetings and asking him personal questions would result in Russia ending the conversation by scaring him with a scsry remark and aura suddenly.

Russia Comforting China after Japan turns on him, he is kind and compassionate at first, but suddenly changes at the end.

The Baltic Trio never knows what to expect. He frequently uses fear and force to keep them.

This behavior seems directly contradictory to wanting friends and having a warm and lively home. So GW still reacts with a trauma response, and Russia reacts in line with his wishes of making friends and having others around him. The Use of force and intimidation is naturally the middle ground between their wishes. Russia believes everyone is his friends, and doesn’t see how his behavior is pushing people away. Other times he seems to want friends to like him back, like when he sent France an anonymously written letter to his radio show. However he has wishes that contradict.

Now, I think he sees friends as people he can keep near him that he enjoys the company of. (This doesn’t need to be mutual or involve trust, just force) but those wants directly contradict.

I think GW is passively influencing him with some of the behavior rather than switching out right, but either option still would have the same effects. Passive influence is when an alter is close to the front, or feels/thinks something strong enough that it affects the person at the front. Making them behave in a way that is ooc for them, but not the other who intentionally or unintentionally influenced them.

This would explain sudden shifts to a cruel threatening position with other nations, something that will most likely always be a threat GW needs to defend against. He is particularly cold and defensive with anyone that has a chance to hurt him, (or tries to look into his psyche) regardless of if they made a move to do so.

More on passive influence can be found in the sources at the bottom under educational playlist.

5. Misc. Points of knowledge

Russia’s character originally was meant to be a cry baby, and only when he drinks, has a complete switch in personality. Frankly I’m glad he was changed to the complex guy we have now. However I think this concept wasn’t fully lost.

His character song, Winter, seems to talk of him experiencing freezing to death each Winter. Further adding to his repetitive trauma.

It is not unheard of for nations to have disorders and conditions. Australia has ADHD, Prussia is Albino, Lithuania has severe anxiety (and possibly PTSD), so who is to say a nation like Russia can’t have a dissociative disorder?

It is stated in one of Russia’s character bios that “General Winter is always with him”, however where? I don’t physically see him, but perhaps we can’t because he’s sharing a body with Russia.

In summary

Russia dissociates under stress

Russia has repetitive traumas and an ongoing history of abuse all his life

Russia has inconsistent behavior and attachments

General Winter could certainly be a separate personality and functions exactly like an introject/persecutor alter would to their host.

Russia acts out and damages relationships, acting in inconsistent ways that might play out his own abuse, and/or reflect his desires to keep others near him.

As a note, I actually have DID, so this could be my projecting, but please don’t yell at me about how I made a “villain” have DID and feed into evil alters and split Stareotypes. I would only like to raise interest and provide an example of what a misrepresented disorder can look like. And the links below are there if you want to make your mind up for yourself and educate yourself if this inspires your portrayal of him! This isn’t meant to be insensitive, I’ve been working on this post for months to word it as sensitive as I could while also acknowledging Russia is still responsible for his and GW’s actions. Saying he has DID isn’t to excuse it, just explain it.

Don’t erase his victims, but don’t erase that he also is one.

(This blog below was also really helpful, but this post covers a lot of Russia’s earlier trauma and his mentality)

https://ellawritesficssometimes.tumblr.com/post/175060886956

Research for DID and OSDD 1b below: (along with links to comics)

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLm56LzW0BA_P7-yL3rK7INZDDozTayJvJ

https://www.hetarchive.net/blog/tag/russia/

http://hetarchive.net/tag/russia/

http://www.hetarchive.net/blog/2013/10/11/blog-entry-1411/

https://hetalia.fandom.com/wiki/Russia

https://www.hetarchive.net/blog/2019/01/29/about-the-fact-that-russias-history-is-too-scary/

Below is for an example of dissociation:

http://www.hetarchive.net/blog/2019/02/28/to-your-hearts-content-russia/

https://youtu.be/ZV3ToVA5BqQ

https://did-research.org/origin/comorbid/dd/osdd_udd/index.html

#hetalia #hetalia world stars #aph #hws #aph lithuania #hws lithuania #hws russia #aph russia #hws ukraine #aph ukraine #hws belarus #tw sex assault #tw rape #tw abuse #tw child neglect #tw child grooming #tw childhood trauma #tw freezing #aph belarus #hetalia theory #my own thoughts #long reads

[vikingqueer]

music recommendations because i have some thoughts™

i don't wanna be that person who's like "my music taste is so weird lol" but i find that very often most of my friends don't really care for the music i like so i thought i'd just make a long ass post about it on tumblr instead. Fair warning, I'm very passionate about MIKA and The Mechanisms and so this very quickly got VERY long because it is part of my ongoing campaign to convince people to listen to mika and the mechs.

1) MIKA in general, but especially My Name Is Michael Holbrook (2019) and No Place In Heaven (2015) (especially the Deluxe version!!)

MIKA is a kind of British singer (half Lebanese, grew up in France blabla), and you probably know him for Grace Kelly and Relax, Take It Easy from his first album Life In Cartoon Motion from 2007. He writes a lot of FUN music, interspersed with the occasional slightly sadder song, especially when looking at an album like No Place In Heaven, which contains a lot of songs with gay themes, resulting in some songs that are just a little bit ouch. He's originally classically trained and has a frankly RIDICULOUS range and idk he just writes very good pop music. Also I have so much respect for that time he talked about how a lot of pop is very fake, with like expensive cars and stilettos and mini skirts in the snow and said "Because I walk down the street, and I don't see any of that. I see fat women and gay men. I don't know... That's real". He's written 5 albums; My Name Is Michael Holbrook (2019), No Place In Heaven (2015), The Origin Of Love (2012), The Boy Who Knew Too Much (2009), and Life In Cartoon Motion (2007).

For starters, I recommend listening to Last Party, Origin Of Love, Grace Kelly, Blame It On The Girls, Blue, Happy Ending, Pick Up Off The Floor, Last Party, Underwater, Tomorrow and Tiny Love (yes this is a long list but i REALLY love MIKA). If you want a slightly broader palette that's not just my favourites, I recommend the Mika starter pack on spotify.

2) The Mechanisms. I warn you. I am making this a thing. I have been obsessed with the mechs since last march.

Boy, where to start? The Mechanisms were a British 9 member space pirate story-telling cabaret that "died" in January 2020. They rewrite songs to fit retellings of various stories. I don't even know what genre I'd describe them as, but probably folk but steam-punk?? Their 4 "main" albums are concept albums, and I honestly just recommend listening to the from beginning to end in chronological order. A good way to get into the mechs is also to listen to UDAD and then watching the live show on youtube or alternately try giving Death To The Mechanisms a listen, to get good quality live show audio of TBI and various other stuff. Also, it was streamed on YouTube and someone combined the footage with the album audio and it rocks. Really, I think the mechs' best selling points are honestly just their concept albums:

Once Upon a Time (In Space) Their first album from 2012. I'd say this is the most "easily digestible" for the general public, since it's a retelling of various fairytales. So, what if Old King Cole was in fact not merry, but rather a cold-blooded dictator, intent on colonising as much of the galaxy as possible. What if Snow White was a general, looking to avenge what King Cole did to her sister, Rose. What if Cinderella was to be wedded to Rose the day that King Cole attacked in order to kidnap Rose? But y'know, In Space and also like every other mechs album it's a beautiful tragedy. Fave songs are Old King Cole, Pump Shanty, and No Happy Ending.

Ulysses Dies at Dawn You guessed it, it's a story about Odysseus, or Ulysses because I guess Ulysses is easier to rhyme or fit in the meter or something, idk. Ulysses is a war hero of unknown gender who is said to keep something that could take down the corrupt Olympians, meanest families in the City, in a vault to which only they know the passcode. Oedipus, Heracles, Orpheus, and Ariadne have been hired by Hades, who happens to be The Mechs' quartermaster Ashes O'Reilly, to get into Ulysses' vault. I didn't care much for udad at first, but honestly it's got some real bangers and the story is really good. UDAD weirdly stands out as the only of the concept albums to not feature any gay relationships, per se. Fave songs are Riddle of the Sphinx, Favoured Son, and Underworld Blues.

High Noon over Camelot This is my favourite mehcs album. So basically, this is Arthurian legend, but it's a space western and Jonny D'Ville does a bad southern accent. This is the story of the cowboy lovers Arther, Lancelot, and Guinevere searching for the Galfridian Restricted Acces Interface Login, or GRAIL, in order to stop their world from falling into the sun. Meanwhile, Mordred and Gawaine are ruling Camelot, and Mordred has convinced Gawaine to try to establish peace with the Saxons by whom Mordred was raised, but Gawaine hates viciously. If you love getting your heart broken and songs by a fucking off the rails batshit preacher I HIGHLY recommend hnoc. Fave songs are Gunfight at the Dolorous Guard, Blood and Whiskey, and Once and Future King. Honorary mention for Hellfire because it awakens something animalistic in me.

The Bifrost Incident TBI is the frankly only good adaptation of norse mythology I've ever known of, and I say that as Dane who was literally forced to learn things about norse mythology in school because it's my heritage or whatever. I've been listening to TBI a lot lately because it's VERY good. It's definitely the most refined of the mechs' albums (because it's the newest) but also I just love a little bit of cosmic horror. 80 years ago, Odin, the All-Mother, ruler of Asgaard, launched a train through the wormhole Bifrost that would reduce the travel between Asgaard and Midgaard from 3 months to 3 days, but things didn't go quite as planned. Lyfrassir Edda of the New Midgaard Transport Police is trying to solve the case of why suddenly the train has arrived 80 years late; to figure out whether it was accident or maybe it was sabotaged by Loki, who was allegedly sentence to death her murder of Baldur, by the Midgaardian resistance led by Loki's wife Sigyn, or maybe by Thor, who was to take over after Odin, and who holds quite the grudge because he used to be a friend of Loki's. You might've heard the song Thor from this album, it's apparently quite popular. Fave songs are Loki, Ragnarok III: Strange Meeting, and Ragnarok V: End of The Line. Yet again an honorary mention: Red Signal because while Lovecraft was a bitch, his invocations are fucking RAW.

Basically, the Mechanisms do all of their performances in character as captain first mate Jonny D'Ville, quartermaster Ashes O'Reilly, pilot DrumBot Brian, master-at-arms Gunpowder Tim, science officer Raphaella la Cognizi, doctor Baron Marius Von Raum (neither a baron, nor a doctor), archivist Ivy Alexandria, engineer Nastya Rasputina, and The Toy Soldier, who is, as usual, present. You can find very obscure lore about the crew of the Aurora here, tidbits on Tales To Be Told and TTBT Vol. 2, such as One Eyed Jacks, The Ignominious Demise of Dr. Pilchard, Gunpowder Tim vs. The Moon Kaiser, Lucky Sevens, and Lost in the Cosmos.

If you feel like listening to a full 40-50 minute album to find out if you like a band is a bit much, I recommend listening to one of the mini stories Alice, Swan Song, or Frankenstein, which are about 12, 5 and 9:30 minutes respectively.

3) The Amazing Devil You know that guy who played Jaskier in the Witcher? I got into The Amazing Devil from spotify recommending them because I listened to the mechs, and apparently Joey Batey from The Amazing Devil is the same Joey Batey who was in the Witcher. Both him and Madeleine Hyland are VERY talented singers and songwriters and their second album The Horror and the Wild makes me go out into the forest and SCREAM. I listened to it on repeat for like a month straight. I guess they'd also be considered folk, but like. New Folk. Also yes, this is another British artist, I don't know why I'm like this. I've never really gotten that into their first album, Love Run, but King slaps. As I understand there's this whole lore about the Blue Furious Boy and Scarlet Scarlet, Joey and Madeleine respectively, but unlike the Mechanisms it's actually possible to find out things about the actual real people and harder to find the obscure lore? I'm open for people to please help me. Fave songs are The Horror and the Wild, Farewell Wanderlust, and That Unwanted Animal, which is literally a third of their second album, but again. I haven't really listened to Love Run that much, and I just LOVE the harmonies on THATW. (also im gay and dramatic leave me alone)

4) dodie I have so much love for this woman. Like many others, I first knew dodie as doddleoddle on youtube. I think I first stumbled across her in probably 2015, because I distinctly already knew her before she released her first EP Sick of Losing Soulmates in 2016. I think I watched probably every video she's ever made in the span of a few weeks. I just loved her quiet sound and was absolutely HOOKED. Also she's actually the reason I got into MIKA originally, so thanks for that. Dodie just realeased her first album Build A Problem (in addition to her three EP's; the one mentioned above, You, and Human) and it slaps. Yes dodie is also British Fave songs are probably Monster, Rainbow, and In The Middle.

5) Cladia Boleyn Unfortunately, Claudia Boleyn only has three singles and that's it. She's been making content on youtube for quite a while, and that's how I first discovered her. I don't know what genre her music is, but I like it. The songs are Celesta, George, and Mother Maiden Crone, of which the latter is my favourite. I'm not saying Claudia Boleyn invented women in 2017 when she released Mother Maiden Crone, but she did. Also you guessed it, Claudia Boleyn is British.

6) Hozier I'm not about to tell you about Hozier. You know who he is. Listen to Nina Cried Power, Angel Of Small Death & The Codeine Scene, and Shrike. Also Hozier isn't stricly British in that he is definitely from A British Isle, but Ireland is not part of the UK. Give me a break.

7) Oh Land Oh Land IS DANISH. I like her early music best, because I'm not that into the electronic sound. I guess Oh Land is just you regular old pop, but with the occasional weird vibe? Oddly enough, I like her first album Fauna best. Unfortunately I haven't really listened to her newest album Family Tree much, but it seems good? Fave songs are Frostbite, Love You Better and Family Tree. I cried on the bus, first time I listened to the Danish version of Love You Better, Elsker Dig Mer because my mother tongue always just hits harder. Also Frostbite is Oh Land doing a duet with herself which is pretty cool.

8) Oysterband This is a live recommendation. I mean they're a decent folk band and all, but they're a fucking experience live. If you like folk and you ever get the opportunity to see Oysterband live, do it. Unfortunately, yes. They are British. Either way, they are incredible on a scene and I think they deserve a mention for that.

9) Ben Platt Honestly don't know much about this guy, but he's not British and he was in Dear Evan Hansen. He released an album in 2019, Sing To Me Instead, and I just think it's a good album, there isn't really not much more to it. Fave songs are Grow As We Go, Bad Habit, and In Case You Don't Live Forever.

and thats all for now. this has been a ramble. shout out to you if you actually read all of this, especially the mechs part.

#music stuff #amalie.txt #music recommendations #mika #the mechanisms #the amazing devil #dodie #claudia boleyn #hozier #oh land #oysterband #ben platt

[nancydrew428]

Game 34

As of yet, there’s no proof that there’s going to be a 34th game. Her Interactive has answered a few fans and said that they were working on a game, but who knows what that really means? To get a semblance of an idea, let’s do a deep dive.

Starting with the past couple of weeks, HeR is selling all of the physical copies of their games, as well as some other products (like their physical puzzles). I watched a YouTube video that said that while this may seem like a bad sign, it might not be. For starters, many of the physical games have been sold out for literal years because they only make a set amount of physical copies. When they run out, that’s it. So this isn’t a completely new thing. However, they are doing a mass sale. On the one hand, it could be a last ditch effort to get whatever money they can before calling it quits. But on the other, it could mean that they are trying to make the best financial decision that they can think of. Story Retold (LJ), on YouTube, works for Her Interactive and commented on that video in early April.

The most accurate explanation is that we at HeR Interactive wanted to celebrate the month of April as Nancy Drew’s anniversary. 💜 We made it themed as collectibles but yes, once the physical units sell out, we don’t make anymore. :(

I personally don’t believe that that is the only reason. It makes sense that they want to honor Nancy Drew’s anniversary (the first book came out in April 1930), so maybe that’s why they chose this month? But I feel like that can���t be the only reason.

I agree with Nancy Drew Walkthroughs on YouTube that Her Interactive probably has to pay for storage to keep physical items, so by selling the games, they won’t have to pay for the storage. They’ll also be making money off the games that they otherwise would not be making money from. As we have learned with the pandemic, and as marketers have known for decades, having people panic is a really effective way to sell something out. It’s why so many websites will have flash sales, the biggest words will be “for a limited time only,” and sometimes they’ll tell you how many copies of the product there are left, how many people have it in their carts, or they’ll say “hurry now, less than 50 left!” Even if you realistically had a long time to buy that product or the company actually has a lot of the product left, they create artificial scarcity and manufacture panic so that you’ll make impulse purchases. While it feels kind of slimy, it is effective when done right. And, correct me if I’m wrong but, I don’t think that Her Interactive has really done this before. So it seems like they might be stepping up their marketing which could be a good sign for the company.

I think this could be the company taking a step in the right direction to make everything digital. Although I absolutely love having physical copies of the games and other memorabilia, I also think that we are living in an increasingly digital world, and it only makes sense for them to get with the times. Go digital, spend less money on making physical games, etc. So many laptops these days don’t have CD/DVD drive, so many of their older games (and their newest game) have issues which can be especially hard with a disc, and so many stores don’t sell the physical games anymore. With a smaller, probably not very wealthy, company, it makes no sense for them to waste money on this. Like I said, I love collecting the physical copies, but I don’t really use them, and younger people coming across the games will probably go for the digital version, probably even buying it directly from Steam. (Which kind of a side note, kind of related, this article on Her Interactive is really interesting. It mentions that HeR kind of fought putting their games on Steam, because Steam took too big of a cut of their money. But I do think that that’s better than not having any of your games sell. And if they’re going completely digital, and almost all of their games are on Steam now, it seems like maybe they’re modernizing and progressing.)

While this could be a bad sign and I don’t want to get my hopes up too high, I do have some hope that it might actually be a good sign that they are finally getting smart.

Another thing that could either be worrisome or a good sign is that they changed offices. In another video from that same YouTuber, he talks about how Her Interactive still has the address that they’ve had for years on their contact page, but on their privacy policy page, they changed their address to a PO box. Plus, there’s a listing for their old office.

Obviously, this could be a bad thing, because they no longer have an office, and that just doesn’t sound good? But this also means that they’ll be saving money by doing so. During the pandemic, they’ve probably had to work at home anyway, so why pay for an office that no one is going to be in? It also makes sense, because at this point, they probably are not the ones making the games. They’re a marketing team who gives the Nancy Drew name to other companies to make the games. All of this can be done from home. LJ also commented on this video in early April, saying:

As far as I know, we are NOT going out of business. 😋 We are all remote working now, since our team (including a male) is all over the U.S. Our work is digital, so it’s an easy change.

Something else that he talks about in that video is that they changed the layout of their website. He points out that it costs money to pay someone to change a website, especially where it seems like multiple details have changed. Hate it or love it, you have to admit that the website is more sleek, modern, and just a different vibe to what it was before. Why would they put in the money for a website and company that’s going to be dead soon?

Lastly, he discusses the company’s change in advertising. I hadn’t even noticed the change (mostly because I don’t look at what they post; I only come across it if it’s posted by someone on here), but when he pointed it out, I did see the difference. The picture advertisements that they post are better quality (not necessarily in content, but in size and resolution). They’ve also changed the font that they use, they’ve ditched the logo, and they use random pictures as well. Regardless of whether it’s good or effective or not, it is a change. Here are two examples (one, two) from the past two years, and here are two examples from the past two weeks (one, two).

This change in marketing is also in line with their Facebook posts. Facebook is the social media that they are most active on when it comes to engaging with fans, at least from what I have seen in the past. But at least since January, they didn’t respond to any comments until they announced that they were selling out all of their physical copies. They didn’t respond to too many questions, but they responded to a few, for the first time in literal months. If they were shutting down, why would they start caring about answering fans’ questions now?

I also found information about some of the stuff that HeR has been doing in the past 2 weeks. I don’t have an account on the website so I can’t see all the information, so I don’t know what was blurred out. I also can’t see any other “scoops” about them, so I don’t know what they’ve done in the past, and I don’t know if this amount of activity is normal or more or less than they usually have. But the company has been doing a few things here and there, so as I keep saying, maybe this is a good sign.

With all of this being said, it seems like Her Interactive might not actually be going under. We can’t be sure, but we can have a little bit of hope. But even if that is true, just because they’ll still be a company, does that mean that they are going to make any more games?

I honestly don’t know. There isn’t much information out there about game 34,  but I will still compile the information that I’ve found here. Unfortunately, it gives us nothing other than them maintaining that there will eventually be another game.

(Timeline) TL;DR: I think that the key points are that they started saying that they were working on the game in December 2019 (as far as I can tell), but since then they’ve also said that they were planning the game. To this day, they are saying that they can’t give out any information regarding the new game yet and can’t make guarantees as to when they can release any information, let alone the game itself. The only thing LJ has seemed to say with certainty is that the next game will be made on Unity. They also have confirmed that there will be some improvements from MID, but it will be similar.

Some other tidbits from this that sound promising but probably don’t mean much: they have said that it shouldn’t take as long for future games as it did for them to make MID, they’ve mentioned that there are plans for multiple more games, that we should subscribe to their newsletter to stay up to date with any new information regarding anything (game 34 or otherwise), and LJ hopes to share news in the near future.

And other things that they’ve said that I’m 99.99% sure don’t mean anything at all: Nancy might potentially someday go on a boat in the future, LJ likes jump scares too “😉,” and Bess and George might appear in future games. (The first two are probably just jokes and fun, but the last one seems like it could be true, just because they’re in most of the games in some way or another.)

Lastly, some speculations: the next game might take place in Austria, and they might address the drama between Nancy and Ned.

Now here is the timeline.

On May 8, 2017, someone from Her Interactive said: "Yes we plan on making a 34th ND game. No is hasn’t been designed yet. Yes there will be a teaser at the end of MID, but no, we haven’t decided on what that teaser will look like yet." Obviously, it’s been years and plans can change (proven by the fact that there was no trailer at the end of MID, lol).

In December 2017, Her Interactive posted a letter about why MID was taking so long to come out. Here was the most important part:

As you may recall, we are moving to a new engine to be able to develop a game not only for PC/Mac but also for tablets, consoles, and now for the increasing popularity of augmented or virtual reality. Very exciting!  Part of us going down this path was to ensure that we have multiple platform options for future Nancy Drew titles so that all Nancy Drew game fans and those new to our games could play these amazing games no matter what their preferred device or platform.

This versatility means that the design and development of our games are even more complex than in the past. Our PC/Mac game design will work for players on the go with tablets and possibly for players that may want to immerse themselves in the mixed reality world. We are also constantly evaluating new technologies and trends in the game industry. Consequently, this is why it is taking much longer to develop this title than previous ones. This thoroughness will put HeR Interactive in a better position for the future while providing us with the tools necessary to continue to deliver amazing experiences for our fans.

On January 2, 2018, LJ responded to a comment on the blog saying, “Hello Carmen! South America is always a possibility for future game locations. However, we haven’t planned that yet. MID will be available for PC as well.”

On July 21, 2019, a Reddit fan posted a response they got from Her Interactive. They explained that they lost trust in the company and would not be preordering the game. They responded with their reasoning for the game taking so long and how it won’t happen in the future.

We are moving to a new engine to be able to develop a game not only for PC/Mac but also for tablets, consoles, and now for the increasing popularity of augmented or virtual reality. Very exciting! Part of us going down this path was to ensure that we have multiple platform options for future Nancy Drew titles so that all Nancy Drew game fans and those new to our games could play these amazing games no matter what their preferred device or platform. This versatility means that the design and development of our games are even more complex than in the past. Our PC/Mac game design will work for players on the go with tablets and possibly for players that may want to immerse themselves in the mixed reality world. We are also constantly evaluating new technologies and trends in the game industry. Consequently, this is why it is taking much longer to develop this title than previous ones. This thoroughness will put HeR Interactive in a better position for the future while providing us with the tools necessary to continue to deliver amazing experiences for our fans.

On October 1, 2019, they responded to a fan on Twitter saying, “Hello Grace, the consistent schedule back then was on a system that never changed or upgraded with the times. Once we get the structure of this upgraded game done, the future games will not take 4 years to make.”

On October 2, 2019, they responded to a fan on Twitter saying, “The frustration is understood. We hope to be more accurate in the future, and to regain our players' faith in the next game release.”

On October 4, 2019, they responded to a fan on Twitter saying, “Hello Lisa, we understand the frustration and loss of trust in us. Since this game was designed from the ground up, we have certainly learned a lot and will be applying our lessons to the future games.”

On October 4, 2019, they responded to another fan on Twitter saying, “Hi highly doubt the next game will take this long - since we had re-designed from the ground up in a new system this time. We apologize for lengthy delay. :(”

On November 6, 2019, two users on Gameboomers made comments:

One said that LJ said there wouldn’t be a trailer for the next game after MID, but “she did say that there were some ‘early ideas’ floating around for the next game.”

The other got an email from Her Interactive that said, “We will absolutely be releasing more games after Midnight in Salem. We cannot commit to a release schedule as of right now since all of our focus is on MID. It will definitely not take us as long for the next title to release. Four years is not the new normal.”

On December 3, 2019, Midnight in Salem was released. The end of the game didn’t have a trailer for the next as is the tradition for Nancy Drew games, but there seemed to be some drama between Nancy and Ned, and she mentioned wanting to go to Austria. A user on the Her Interactive message boards pointed out that the game was outsourced to an Austrian company so that might be the reasoning. But maybe it could be the plan for the next game.

On December 3, 2019, an article came out about the company that said, “Her Interactive has already developed a Nancy Drew VR proposal based on one of the books with a Spanish director, but it's more likely an AR project would come to market first.”

On December 17, 2019, a user on the Her Interactive message boards said that they emailed Nancy’s new voice actress who confirmed that there will be more games where she will play Nancy.

On December 29, 2019, they responded to a fan’s DM on Instagram asking if they were going to make another game to which they said. “Absolutely!  We’ve already begun!”

On January 7, 2020, LJ responded to a comment on the blog saying, “Hello Oona! Yes, we are planning on more Nancy Drew games. Can’t say when the next one will be released, yet. 🙂”

On January 8, 2020, LJ responded to a comment on the blog saying, “Hi again Jillian! I’m not sure on the release month or year just yet, but I do know it will not take 4 years to make. 😉”

On January 10, 2020, LJ responded to a comment on the blog saying, “Hello SWhite5052! I’m not sure what the intent from our designers is for poor Ned. I’m a big fan of Nancy’s boyfriend, and I do hope we get to have him in-game someday, be Nancy’s hero and also take her out on a romantic date. 😉” I don’t think this really means anything, but I hope it means that she has hope that there will be future games.

On January 28, 2020, they responded to a fan on Twitter saying, “Yes, there are plans for more Nancy Drew games. :)” Plural?

On February 3, 2020, LJ responded to a comment on the blog saying, “Hi Jam5022! We do not have any news to share yet, but we are working on the game. 🙂”

On February 11, 2020, LJ responded to two comments on the blog:

“Hello felicity18! Glad to hear you enjoyed Midnight in Salem! The leads didn’t add a teaser to the end of the game per tradition since we are secretly working on the next one, and haven’t put together footage to share or tease on it yet. Stay tuned for future updates!”

“Hi Madi! Ship of Shadows was shelved, meaning we stopped working on it. At this time, we are only focusing on the main mystery adventure line.”

On February 20, 2020, LJ responded to two comments on the blog:

“Hi Sarah! Yes, the next game will be made on Unity. 🙂”

“I hope so, Nicole! I always like having Nancy’s best friends on the case with her! No promises just yet, but it’s likely for a future game. 🙂”

On February 25, 2020, they responded to a fan’s DM on Instagram saying, “New game info coming shortly. Stay tuned!” This didn’t happen.

On April 13, 2020, they responded to a fan on Twitter saying, “Hi Anna! When we have news on the next Nancy Drew game, we will be sure to share it! #NancyDrew”

On May 22, 2020, they responded to a fan on Twitter saying, “No news to share yet, but we are working on it!”

On September 13, 2020, someone on Reddit said that there was an untitled 34th game on Wikipedia. As they pointed out, anyone can edit entries on Wikipedia. But almost 7 months later, it hasn’t been taken down.

On November 29, 2020, someone on Reddit posted LJ’s response to a YouTube comment. “Game 34 is in the works. That’s all I can say for now. :)”

On December 1, 2020, LJ responded to some comments from October 2020 on a blog post:

“Hello! Game 34 is in the works. Stay tuned for future updates and be sure to subscribe to the newsletter for when we announce news. Glad you liked the graphic!”

“Hello! No news yet to share at this time, but that we are working on it. Keep an eye out in future newsletters for future bits of information. 😀”

“Sadly, I do not have anything to share about the next game. 🙁 I hope to be able to tease out clues in the future, though!”

On December 4, 2020, LJ responded to some comments from October/November 2020 on a blog post:

“Hello, beka! Sadly, I do not have any new info to share about the future game at this time. 🙁 I hope to share news with you in the future!”

“Hi Stephanie! It has been a while, hasn’t it? Sadly, I do not have any news to share at this time. As soon as I have some that I can share, I will!”

“Hi Natalina! It has been a while since we have had a Twitch stream. Sadly, we do not have any news to share yet about the next Nancy Drew game. Stay tuned!”

“Hello Foundation2430, things have certainly changed since Sea of Darkness. I am limited to what we can share behind the scenes, but once I have things I can share with you about the current and future games, I will. I don’t think the next game will take 4 years. 🙂”

On December 11, 2020, LJ responded to a comment from a blog post saying, “Hi ali! We are working on the next game, but we do not have a release date for it just yet.”

On January 6, 2021, LJ responded to a comment from a blog post saying, “Hello Natalina! Sorry, I do not have any news to share about new Nancy Drew games or projects. 🙁”

On January 8, 2021, LJ responded to two comments on the blog:

“Hi Aly! The next game is indeed in the works. Sadly, I cannot share anything about it at this time. 🙁 But I do hope you have a great new year as well! I hope to share more secrets with you in the future!”

“Hello Sanjeet! Happy New Year! We do have game 34 in the works, but I cannot share anything with you at this time. 🙁”

On January 28, 2021, LJ responded to a comment on a blog post saying, “Hi Cleanna! I think Nancy spending time on a ship is a great idea, too. Hopefully, she will get to do that in the future!” I doubt that this will happen, but she didn’t have to answer it this way. I guess it was probably to create some hope.

On February 2, 2021, LJ responded to two comments on the blog:

The first response was to a fan who talked about VR where she said, “Hello Madi! Thanks for sharing your concern. We have seen others comment their worry about the graphics since they get easily sick from motion as well. We are keeping this in mind for our future games. 🙂” I don’t think that they ever really planned to do VR, but she didn’t have to add that last part. Again, I’m guessing it was to create some hope.

The second response was to a fan who asked a question on January 15th where she said, “Hi Jessica! I do not know when the next game will be released, but once I have info, I will be sure to share it!” She answered this a few days after she answered the first question, when this was the first comment on the post. I wonder if she didn’t skip it, but rather waited until she could say the right thing.

On February 15, 2021, LJ responded to a few comments on a blog post:

The first comment asked if they’ll share any information on the game this year to which she responded, “Hi Rach! I do not know when news will become available to share. Sorry!” I understand this because MID was a hot mess where they kept giving dates and time frames that they couldn’t keep. But if they’ve been supposedly working on this since November, a year should be plenty of time for them to give some information, right? That they’ll keep the same voice actress for Nancy, part of the plot, who a phone character will be, the state or country it will be set in, or something super simple. Yet she couldn’t even say that she’d give any information this year.

She also responded to someone saying, “Hi Sarah! I cannot say exactly, since the behind-the-scenes work is top secret. I hope to share news in the near future when I’m able to!” One minute she couldn’t say whether they’d give out any information this year at all, the (literal) next minute she said she hopes to share news soon.

On March 3, 2021, LJ responded to a few comments on a blog post:

“Hi Lindsay! There are plans for the future. Stay tuned for news when I am allowed to share it!”

“Aw thanks for sharing! We are indeed working hard behind the scenes here. 😉”

On March 10, 2021, LJ responded to a comment on a blog post saying, “Hello Rishi! I would love to share information about our next game, but sadly, I cannot at this time. All I can say is that we are indeed planning another game. 🙂” So they’re still in the planning stage for the next game?

On March 30, 2021, LJ responded to a few comments on a blog post:

“Hi Becca! Jump scares are my favorites, too. 😉 Sadly, I do not have any news or even a date when we will share news about the next game. 🙁” (I kept the first part, because she didn’t need to put a winky face. I’m sure this is just wishful thinking, but maybe there will be a jump scare in the new game? Lol. But she doesn’t even have a date for when she can even share news about the game.)

“Hi Grace! We are indeed working on another game. I do not have any idea when we will be sharing news about it, though.” Pretty much the same, generic response.

On April 5, 2021, Her Interactive responded to a Reddit fan on Instagram about the future game saying: “Hello lorichelter! The next game will have some improvements but will be similar to MID. We’re glad to hear you enjoyed the game! Also, future games will be Mac compatible, but unfortunately we do not have plans to remaster the old games at this time. :( If we ever find a workaround for the Apple restriction of 32-bit games, we will quick to share that trick.”

#her interactive #nancy drew #clue crew #video game #video games #timeline #info #game 34 #post #mine

[joonsdiary]

the proposal

↳ part one of the: (not) the love of my life series

pairing. ceo!seokjin x hotelier!reader (female) genre. arranged marriage au // humour with a dash of fluff and sprinkle of angst (mayhaps future smut?) word count. 4,8k summary. after losing ownership of your hotel to the satan-spawned ceo-to-be, kim seokjin, you are forced by the powers that be (your parents) into marrying him. you agree under the assurance that you won’t be out of job, but with the title of manager instead of owner. as it turns out, he has other plans and approaches you with a proposal that’s hard to refuse.

note. a cliché, overused trope? check. a series with (maybe) no plot and is just about jin as a billionaire ceo? check. this was initially supposed to be a sequel, but i couldn’t follow it up with the same ambience and mood, so i decided to leave the drabble [as a standalone] and write a spin-off instead. this has been in my drafts for the longest time, so i’m excited to share to you a series that literally nobody asked for.

warning-but-not-really. not all corporate ceos are as chilled out as jin will be portrayed here. may give you high expectations of literally some of the worst people on this planet lmao also purely self-indulgent! read at your own risk tbh

the proposal | the first date | the ceo’s keeper | the engagement

The premise was simple.

Get married so you can keep running your hotel business or refuse and lose everything to the man your parents have personally hand-picked to become the owner.

Scratch that.

The man your parents sold your hotel to, thus making him the newly appointed owner.

Choosing the latter and having your freedom would mean giving up your hard-earned company to the lousy billionaire’s first-born son, who happened to own half the hotels in metropolitan Seoul.

The Kims.

Notorious for their enormous amount of wealth, their class, and having three strapping young men for sons who knew nothing else, but privilege handed to them in a silver platter.

Despite growing up in a well-off family, you’ve always taught yourself that independence and hard work was the key to success. You distanced yourself as much as you could from your parents’ money, stuck it out for four years in college, and graduated with a degree. Running the hotel full time while attempting to finish your master’s in business administration part-time had been the theme for the past year. Until your parents dropped the bomb on you.

Words like, do you really think you had full ownership of that run-down hotel of yours and we had to sell, or we’ll go under had been thrown around. As if keeping the secret of having a huge amount of debt would make you feel better about seeing your hotel assimilated into Kim Hotels. Not only would you lose ownership, but you knew that you were bound to get fired, if not demoted. It usually came with the change of proprietor.

Conveniently enough, the Kims had other plans. Their current CEO, Seokjin’s father, agreed to let you keep working as the hotel manager instead of the owner, which is honestly miles better to you than being jobless. But it came with a hefty price: you were to marry their oldest son, Kim Seokjin. They drove a hard bargain, and you found yourself agreeing. You loved the hotel more than anything you’ve ever owned; having to pour your heart and soul into making it worth being proud of. And you were. That’s why hearing your parents say that it was in debt felt gut wrenching.

Initially, you tried to get a hold of him, hoping you could convince him to re-think the situation. You thought perhaps the media had been wrong about him, and all the talks of him being a calculating corporate shark was a lie. Maybe he would let you work as the manager without having to marry him. But the COO of Kim Hotels refused to meet with you, despite hearing from your parents that he’d been “more than willing” to be married to you.

You scoffed at their baseless statement. Seokjin had a reputation for taking women to bed one night before leaving them to dust by the next morning. As if selling his soul to the devil in order to be worth billions of dollars wasn’t enough; of course, he was sleeping around as well. You weren’t one to judge anybody’s lifestyle choices, but you were sure that someone in that calibre wouldn’t agree to be wed to a person they hardly knew just because. There was something in your gut that told you there was more to the agreement than a simple arranged marriage.

Or maybe the feeling in your gut was due to the bad pasta you had.

“Good evening, Ms. Hwang.”

You’re greeted by Mr. Park, the doorman as soon as you enter the lobby, cradling a piping hot tea you hoped would alleviate the stomach cramps you were having. His smile gave away his old age, wrinkles dotting the corner of his eyes and the lines in his cheeks. You returned the gesture.

“How was your dinner?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” you laughed softly, shrugging away your coat without spilling your drink. “I’m never eating out ever again. Please tell me Yoongi is in.”

He nodded, gesturing to the entrance not too far from the lobby. You bid him good night and head to the restaurant in the hotel, which was sparse with customers. Friday nights were usually teeming with life and excitement, but unfortunately business had been relatively slow all week. The worry pooled deep in your stomach – as if you needed any more ratification that your hotel needed to be bought, or you’ll close down.

“Yoongi! I need your cure-all soup,” you called out as soon as you sat on the barstool, propping your tote on the table. Jungkook waved at you from the far end of the bar, concocting a drink for the eager gentleman waiting in front of him. Yoongi popped his head out from the kitchen’s double doors to scowl at you but was met with your beaming smile.

He returned several minutes later with your request and you quietly thank him.

“Bad date?” he asked, wiping his palms over his well-worn apron. Jungkook had inched closer by this time, mindlessly wiping the area beside you.

You nodded. “And terrible food. I should’ve just asked him to take me here to Grigio instead.”

Yoongi raised his brows, but a grin was threatening to burst from his lips. “Why didn’t you?”

“He insisted on going to that posh new restaurant that just opened last week. Said it took months to book and he couldn’t just cancel on a whim,” you rolled your eyes, carefully blowing cold air into your steaming soup.

“This is why I told you to stop looking around,” Yoongi leaned into the counter, studying your expression.

“It’s cuffing season,” you joked. “Blame social norms for my behaviour.”

He gave you an impassive stare, before sighing. “You’re literally cuffed already.” He said, followed by a quiet, “I still can’t believe you’re getting married soon.”

You waved your right hand nonchalantly before lifting the spoon to your lips. You moaned as soon as the flavour filled your senses.

“Did you know you’re the best chef ever?”

“It’s just chicken noodle soup,” he said drily.

“Exactly! The simplest meal yet you manage to bring out so many spices at once.” He rolled his eyes at your attempt to boost his ego. Either way it was true; for you, nothing beat Yoongi’s cooking, no matter how simple he thought the meal was.

You forgo the tea and asked Jungkook for a bottle of white wine. “Nothing fancy — Les Capriades is fine. I heard they came in last month, and I have yet to try them.”

He nodded at your instructions before disappearing off to the back to find your drink.

“Stop avoiding the topic, Y/N,” Yoongi rested his chin in the palm of his hand.

“I’m not avoiding anything,” you stated confidently, yet you couldn’t meet his gaze. “The devil incarnate himself refuses to see me. I guess I’ll have to meet him at the altar.”

“Three weeks from now,” Yoongi said, almost exasperated.

“Until then, I’ll enjoy my freedom.”

“What freedom?” Yoongi scoffed, rounding the table to slide into the seat next to you. Jungkook returned with your promised bottle and your eyes beamed with excitement before quietly thanking him. “You didn’t even date around before any of this marriage circus happened.”

You agreed with the “circus” part and ignored the indirect jab. Besides not having a say in any of the planning for your wedding, your supposed fiancé refused to introduce himself when you tried to reach out multiple times.

Okay, perhaps it wasn’t multiple times. You called his office when your parents broke the news to you a week ago, but his assistant said he was busy with a meeting and that you should call back. You didn’t, and that was the end of it. You’ve been putting off trying again, but it’s been a week and he hasn’t contacted you back either.

Maybe it was mutual disdain; if one of you was testing the other to break, you didn’t want the first to be you. It already felt undignified to be marrying someone for the sake of keeping a semblance of ownership to your hotel, so you weren’t about to grovel and demand to be spoken to when it seemed like he wasn’t willing to spare you a second of his time.

Yoongi chatted for a bit before he had to go back to work, so you were left to pull out your laptop from your tote. For the next few hours you immersed yourself into finances, staring at the excel spreadsheet displayed on the screen far longer than was medically allowed. Surely, you’ll go blind before you see your hotel overcome the negative deficit you were in.

“See you tomorrow, Ms. Hwang,” Jungkook thrummed his fingers on the table as he passed by. You looked up in time to see him mime something unintelligible. Your brows raised in confusion.

“Your glasses,” he laughed quietly, fingers hovering close to your cheek. You mumbled a quiet oh, before pushing the rim higher until it settled snugly against your nose bridge.

“Thanks.” You sighed, tipping your head to one side. After feeling the satisfying pop! you turned back to Jungkook with a grin. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You slumped back to your work as soon as Jungkook was out of sight. Glancing at the clock on the corner of your laptop, it blinked 00:37, which automatically caused you to yawn. Yoongi should be out soon, so you willed yourself to stand up and prop the close sign by the entrance.

From where you stood, you could see the lobby clearly, as well as the spinning doors of the hotel entrance. A few patrons trickled in, no doubt coming in from their busy day, and filed sluggishly to the elevators where it would take them up their floors.

That was the most fulfilling part of being a hotelier to you. The satisfaction of giving people a comfortable stay, whether they were mere tourists or locals wanting a getaway from their normal life. It certainly isn’t as posh and sleek as the Kim Hotel with their towering glass buildings and boring black, white, and grey colour palettes. But what you had was something you were proud to consider your home, with the vibrant earth tones of the walls and furniture, as well as the rich velvet tapestry draped along the ornate windows. High ceiling chandeliers peppered the lobby, casting an ambience of warmth and security without lacking luxury.

“‘Night, Y/N.” Yoongi clasped your shoulder, startling you out of your mini daydream. “Stop using my restaurant as your office, will you?”

You mustered a small grin. “Bye, Yoongles. Drive safe.”

Yoongi turned to you as his face contorted violently. “I hate that nickname.”

“Love you too!” You called out as he exited through the revolving door before placing your hand down with a sigh. Back to work. You were about to turn and go back to your forgotten laptop when the door welcomed in another guest.

With bated breath you watched the man stalk towards you, eyeing you dangerously as if you were his prey. His midnight black suit made him look slim but highlighted his broad shoulders all the same. You were arrested at the spot, unable to look away and felt as if you’ve been robbed of oxygen. The more he stepped closer, the more unclear your thoughts became.

It’s not as if you hadn’t seen the man. He often appeared on several business magazines — gossip tabloids more so. Yet there was something different about seeing him in person, in front of you, in your hotel.

No. His hotel.

“Ms. Hwang. I was hoping to find you here.”

You blinked up at him, not trusting your voice to form words under such immense pressure. His usually slicked back ebony hair is more mussed; a day’s worth of stress was evident in his restless feature.

When you didn’t reply, he took it upon himself to study you from head to toe, and your body went rigid. Your long, honey-coloured hair had been tied up in a lazy bun and glasses framed your face. You didn’t bother changing out of your mini black dress from your date earlier, whose thin straps clung onto your shoulders for dear life.

You squirmed uncomfortably, finding a small ounce of strength to wrap your hands protectively around yourself. “What are you doing here, Mr. Kim?”

“Please,” he rolled his eyes, supple lips bending upwards for a grin. “Call me Seokjin. Mr. Kim is my father.”

And with that, he welcomed himself in the threshold of your restaurant.

Technically, it’s his restaurant now, too.

You let your anger simmer for a bit before turning to follow him.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you declared. It was hard to keep your annoyance down when he had showed up unannounced after ignoring your existence for a whole week.

He slid next to the seat you had claimed yours, and you almost tripped in your heels as you followed, immediately snapping your laptop shut. There was no new information he could have garnered from looking at the finances of the hotel, as he’s probably aware of them. But the thought of him snooping around made you feel queasy.

“I wanted to see what had my father so enamoured that he’d actually buy this…” he trailed off, waving his hand dismissively, “…hotel?”

You hated the underlying judgement in his tone of voice. You had also heard rumours that he’s unabashedly forward and hard to deal with, on top of all the other rumours that plagued him. So far, all the boxes in the checklist were proving to be true.

“It’s quaint. Not at all what I expected.” His gaze studied you momentarily, and you can tell he wanted to say more but he smartly held himself back. Good. You don’t know what you would do if he strung one criticism after another.

“Well, you’ve seen it. You can kindly screw off now.”

Seokjin seemed taken aback for a second, but his surprise didn’t linger. He leaned back on the stool and swiveled forward before pointing at the shelves lined with alcohol.

“I’ll have a whiskey, neat.”

In an attempt to ignore his ridiculous demand, you powered up your laptop once more. No way in hell would you let him step all over you, not even when he owned the hotel where you now stood. “You have very capable legs and arms. I’m sure you can whip one up yourself.”

Was this man joking? Granted, you know your way behind the bar since you had the privilege to work as a bartender for a few years during your college tenure. But that doesn’t mean he’s welcomed here to treat you as if you were a subservient of his. Which, semantics aside, you were, though that’s beside the point. But if he made an effort to come down here and order you around like a scullery maid in an attempt to intimidate you or put you in your place, then he was barking up the wrong tree.

“I was told you have terrific hospitality. I guess they were mistaken.”

Not for the likes of you, I don’t. You rolled your eyes, not bothering with an actual reply.

Seokjin maneuvered off his suit jacket and unbuttoned his cufflinks before he rolled his sleeves up meticulously. He then rounded the bar and began grabbing materials with familiarity, not stopping to ask where anything was located. You watched in awe from the corner of your eyes, attempting to be discreet.

“Want one?” he gave you a slanted gaze.

You wrinkled your nose in disagreement and raised your wine glass.

“A refill, then?”

Pressing your lips firmly together, you gave him a defiant headshake.

The mild shock of seeing him traipsing behind the bar had rendered you absolutely mute. The fact that he knew where everything was piqued your interest. Was it an outcome of years of experience as a habitual drinker? Or did he often just randomly raid bars, hence his extensive knowledge of their layout? You didn’t want to know, but at the same time you did.

It took him a while to find a coaster before settling back to the spot beside you. Typing away at your laptop, you refused to give him even an ounce of attention despite his attention solely being yours. The silence that ensued was more uncomfortable than anything you’ve experienced.

Suddenly, you were all too aware of your crooked posture and your body snapped, straightening your shoulders rigidly. It felt stupid, but necessary for the sake of your sanity to keep your façade. Although it crumbled ever so slightly when Seokjin laughed beside you.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel tense,” his voice was languid and inviting.

You steeled yourself, refusing to be lulled into a trance by his intoxicating presence. “What did you really come here for, Kim Seokjin?”

“She speaks!” he exclaimed, clearly amused. You turned to give him an impassive stare. “Do I need a reason to visit my fiancée?”

His statement caught you by surprise, your poor heart bearing the brunt of suddenly having to pump more oxygen than usual. It brought warmth to your cheeks and you allowed yourself to fall into the fantasy of marrying the most eligible bachelor in all of Seoul. The fantasy, however, was short-lived as his wink broke the spell you were under.

“Don’t worry, this will be strictly business,” his back straightened up on cue. You tried and subsequently failed not to watch the way his deft fingers moved to loosen up his necktie. He then slightly deflated with a sigh, before grabbing his drink and taking a sip.

For courage, perhaps? It brought a small amount of accomplishment to know that you might have The Kim Seokjin nervous before you.

“It’s about the wedding, which you know is coming up soon.”

This was it. The topic you’ve been narrowly avoiding for the past week suddenly poured on you all at once like a bucket of ice-cold water. It wasn’t the most refreshing way of waking you up to reality, but it got the job done.

“I hope you aren’t getting cold feet now, Kim,” he grins at your attempt at humour.

“I apologize for not getting back to you sooner, by the way. My secretary said you tried to get a hold of me.” You remembered the woman’s monotone voice on the other end of the phone call. Part of the reason why you were reluctant to call back was due to nervousness from hearing her apathetic voice.

You shrugged in response, finding him less of an asshole than you had previously. Was your expectation of decency so low that you found anything remotely human he did to be an act of chivalry on his part?

Yes. Yes, it was.

“I tried calling because I wanted to know if I would be able to talk you out of this deal.”

Seokjin was visibly surprised by your candor.

“Oh yeah, and how would that have played out?”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Surely, it was too late to take anything back, so you tossed all caution out of the window. He might as well hear your piece.

“The ceremony preferably cancelled. The Hwang Hotel back to its rightful owner, as if the whole thing hadn’t occurred in the first place.”

Seokjin regarded you with amusement in his eyes. The warm lights of the Grigio soften his rugged features, making it seem like he was glowing. You came to understand how he had the whole country enamoured by him. He was distressingly handsome.

You gagged at where your thoughts ended up and leaned back a little, terrified of feeling too intimate with the man who had claimed your hard-earned success for himself. The hotel means more to you in ways you know Seokjin will never be able to relate. A man who, with a little twirl of his fingers, would be making more money than you could ever hope to imagine. They say no hard work goes unpaid, but for him it was probably akin to: No hard work, but I get paid either way. How comfortable must it be to sit atop that domineering tower of his, overlooking the city he practically owns?

“And what do I get out of that possible scenario?” he began after a brief pause.

You refused to wilt under his imposing gaze. With a confident voice, you said, “The satisfaction of doing a noble deed.”

He barked out a laugh, tilting his head back in obvious enjoyment. You didn’t share the sentiment as you sighed before removing your prescription glasses. Perhaps hoping for the impossible was futile, after all.

“Look, I don’t care about this little passion project of yours,” Seokjin waved his hands around condescendingly, and you felt a familiar pang of anger surging from your chest. “And you’re lucky my father swooped in to purchase this hotel before you went bankrupt.”

“Thank you for the constant reminder,” you deadpanned, but he ignored you and continued. The gall of the man to show up and ridicule you made you irate. I take that back, he’s still an asshole in every aspect imaginable.

“To be frank, I think we’re both in a pinch here. You want your hotel back, and I’m willing to grant you that tiny little wish.”

You perked up; interest piqued. But you felt an ultimatum coming, so you squashed all hope arising from his statement. There was always a catch.

“My parents have been grooming me to become CEO ever since I learned how to walk. For me, acquiring the position is a no-brainer.”

“But?” you offered, and his grin widened.

“But lately my father refuses to hand me the reins. He’s been wanting to retire, but every year he keeps sticking it out. Then I unceremoniously learned my engagement with you. All of a sudden, his mood shifted, and his plans for retirement began piling up.”

Your brows creased in confusion, unable to see how you fit into all of this.

“My reputation precedes me, so I’m sure you’re aware of what I’m insinuating here.”

Something clicks in your mind, and you willed yourself to hold back a scoff.

“Enlighten me, Kim,” you propped your chin against your palm. If you were going to agree to this, you might as well have a little fun for yourself.

“My parents aren’t amused by my…” Seokjin trailed off.

“Decision to debauch half the women’s population of Seoul?” you offered, unable to hold yourself back. You grinned triumphantly; he had set himself up for that moral beating.

“I was going to say my inability to settle down, but sure, we’ll go with that,” Seokjin was unfazed, much to your disappointment. “He hadn’t explicitly said it but seeing the way everything is being handled so quickly, I can tell it’s what he wants. For me to get married; then maybe he’ll consider giving me the position.”

“And you didn’t oppose?” you asked incredulously. It seemed at the moment you were the one who is prepped to lose the most. What if it wasn’t you who the Kims chose for their son? Were you supposed to just accept defeat and give up your hotel?

“Oh, trust me, I vehemently opposed,” you nodded at his statement. At least you agreed on something. That was a start. “But that’s partly the reason why I’m here.”

“What more can we possibly do? We’re basically left with no option,” you grumbled, turning back to your laptop. For you, there was no way around this. Both your families have decided for you, so you have to either fall in line or risk losing your business.

“What if I tell you we can go back to our normal lives a few months from now? We won’t be married to each other. You’ll have your hotel back, and I’ll still be the CEO.”

You inadvertently leaned towards him, eager to know where the conversation was going.

“We just have to convince my parents and yours, as well as the board of directors of Kim Hotels and the public alike how we’re hopelessly in love with each other.”

Your mouth formed into a visible scowl, forehead creasing in confusion. You searched for hints of frivolity, waiting for him to say just kidding! at any moment. But his stoic face told you that he was being serious.

“And we’re doing this because…?” your patience had worn thin, expression marred by weariness and fatigue. You had a lot to get back to; you didn’t have time for silly games.

“It will make the divorce more believable.”

You paused, the gears in your brain turning. The agreement your parents told you about hadn’t involved a divorce; so, you were curious as to where Seokjin was going with his idea.

He was offering you an out; a way to get out of his family’s mess unscathed. You’ll have your only prized possession, and he can go back to sleeping with as many people as he wanted while retaining his coveted position. The proposition was too good to be true.

“What’s the catch?” your lips pursed, and you found yourself considering his ludicrous proposal.

“No catch,” he holds his two hands up in surrender, the corner of his mouth forming a smirk. You eyed him with suspicion.

“Just that you give effort into this whole thing. Make my father and the board believe enough to think I’ve ‘cleaned up my act’,” he paused to roll his eyes, “so that they’ll hand me the position without question. I promise you full ownership of the Hwang Hotel, without debt, as soon as we separate.”

While your parents’ original plan had been to marry you off entirely (which you did not want at all) Seokjin was sensible enough to figure out that you had no desires of tying the knot to someone you barely knew. He probably shared the sentiment, hence his proposal.

“This doesn’t make sense though,” you said pointedly. “Wouldn’t they find out about your motives when we divorce? And our parents technically arranged this, so they’ll be mad — I’m sure yours will be more than mine.”

You’re all in for finding a loophole in this whole arrangement, but you’re not sure you’ll agree if it will give you more problems in the long run.

He shrugged, unconcerned. “They can question it all they want. But like I said, if we make it believable enough, we can always reason that we ‘fell out of love’.”

In an attempt to alleviate a developing headache, your hands slowly massaged your temples. The information was a lot to hand, but no matter how many scenarios you played in your head, they all seemed to have the finale you wanted. Regardless of what happened within the upcoming months, you were going to get your hotel back.

“If you’re really that worried, let’s just say I cheated,” Seokjin’s words snapped you out of your muddled thoughts.

Your eyebrows creased in confusion. “Wouldn’t that be worse for you?”

“The public already thinks I’m a man-whore,” he said wryly. “The board is not going to kick me out of office for something tedious like a divorce once I’m CEO. And I’m sure I can reason it out with my parents when the time comes.”

You laced your fingers together, hoping to wring the concerns away. There was no use in overthinking the situation; it certainly beats staying miserably married to someone you barely know.

You let out a shaky breath, before mustering the confidence to say, “Fine.”

“Great, I knew you’d be reasonable.” He flicked his wrist to look at his watch, gaze composed despite the tiredness in his eyes. “I’ll have my secretary e-mail you a written agreement.”

“Great,” you mimicked his deadpan tone. Gone was the casual Seokjin who paced around behind the bar with much familiarity. This was the COO of Kim Hotels Seokjin; precise and straight to the point.

Better get used to that.

“Thanks for the drink, future wife,” he slid off the barstool with poise, the distance between you and him closing ever so slightly. He smelled like pine and cedar, with a hint of citrus; it was enough for you to suddenly sober up, unaware you were inebriated, to begin with.

“No need. You forced your way in, anyway.” You said dismissively, pretending to switch tabs on your screen. Where was that random website you were looking at earlier?

With a quiet laugh, he turned to leave. You listened to his rhythmic steps and perked up when he paused.

“See you tomorrow, fiancée,” he said without turning.

“Tomorrow?” you tried not to give away the surprise in your voice.

“We have to start going on dates to convince them that we’re serious about this, right? Pick you up at eight, sharp.”

With a wave of his right hand, he stalked off towards the exit, leaving you alone in the restaurant.

Suddenly, the premise didn’t appear so simple. You reached for your glass of wine and finished the rest of your courage drink in one gulp.

NEXT ; 

thanks for reading! feedback is always appreciated ;u;

#seokjin fic #seokjin scenarios #jin scenarios #bts scenarios #ceo!seokjin #seokjin fanfic #seokjin x reader #jin fic #bts fanfic #seokjin fluff #seokjin angst #seokjin smut #bts smut #seokjin #yoongi scenarios #yoongi fic #writing

[parvuls]

fic: in the space between (2/2)

word count: 6.6k

rating: teen

tags: space, science fiction, enemies to friends to lovers, pre-relationship

notes: due to length and tumblr's formatting, reading on ao3 is recommended

(part 1 | part 2 | read on ao3)

-

    “Just a month till we’re home, boys,” Holster announces as he climbs into the bottom bunk across from Eric, addressing the dark room at large. Eric can hear him shift around in his bed, sheets rustling with his movements. “Can I get a hallelujah?”

“You can get pizza,” Ransom replies dreamily from the top bunk above him. “Because Holtzy -- The Real fucking Pep God. You and me, Matty Matheson pepperoni. One month.”

There’s one month left until landing back in Houston and disbanding for three weeks of leave. It’s been creeping up in conversations for weeks now, nestling itself in crew breakfasts and mission briefs and downtime. Shitty waxes poetry about things like dipping his toes into the ocean and breathing that sweet Terra air as often as he talks about smoking three joints at once the moment they set foot on the ground. Holster and Ransom talk about the heaps of food they’ll be shoveling to compensate for a year of outer space cuisine. Jack doesn’t talk about much other than the missions, and Eric thinks about organic chemistry and molecular modeling on good days, thinks about crying on bad ones. He talks about almost anything else to distract himself and hopes to Jesus that no one can tell.

The picture frame on the shelf by his bunk wobbles on its back stand as the ship tips into Krer orbit for the night. Krer itself is dim and murky, obscuring the shining lights of its neighboring planets and cloaking the crew quarters’ portal window in darkness. Jack said that the last mission of this tour should be coming in from Flight Director Hall sometime during the night.

Eric sighs quietly, turns onto his side, and stares blindly at the blank white of the wall as he mentally runs through the primary structure of proteins once more. Holster and Ransom are arguing about the best Toronto pizza in the background, the sound of their voices weaving in with the beeps of the ship’s machinery and the creaking noises of it when in motion.

“You gotta come too, Bittle,” Holster says, drawing Eric’s attention. He rolls his head to the other side, watches Holster’s blurred figure move in the dark to lean over the edge of his bunk. Eric must’ve missed a change of conversation. “Getting together over leave? We spend the last day before launch together, all of us. Y’know, hitting some bar, maybe watching a game, then catching the plane to Texas in the morning. Last time we went to Shitty’s -- man, that was fucking wild sauce.”

“And you gotta meet Lardo,” Ransom adds. “Crew bylaws. Sorry, rookie, everyone’s in.”

There are ten densely-printed pages about prokaryotes crumpled in the back of Eric’s personal locker, that he’s riffled through maybe twice. Eric chews his lip raw, tries to think of a carefully-masqueraded way of brushing the invitation off, but Holster grumbles lowly before he can. “Well, not everyone.”

“Right,” Ransom says, his enthusiastic tone turning slightly hesitant. “But. Us and Shitty and Lardo and probably her trainee Ford. It’s almost everyone.”

It’s almost everyone, plus ground team. “But not Jack,” Eric concludes, unintentionally dismayed. He should know better by now than to be disappointed, probably. He should, but doesn’t.

Holster sighs and throws himself back onto the mattress, bed springs groaning loudly. “Jack doesn’t really do social things. He’s too cool for them. Which -- whatever, man, who cares, it’s probably more fun for us that way. So you in?”

What Eric’s in for is a world of trouble. Eric’s in for the sweltering heat of the Texan desert, he’s in for submerging in textbooks all the way up to his ears, he’s in for never being quite enough for this world. He turns his head back to the other side, facing the wall, and stifles a sigh.

“I’ll think about it,” he promises, and knows that he will, also knows he’d never be able to say yes. He doesn’t leave them enough time to round up on him before he adds, “Now shut your pieholes, gentlemen, some people need their beauty sleep. And by some people I do mean y’all.”

“Really, he means you,” Ransom tells Holster, and there’s the distinct sound of Holster reaching up and whacking the top bunk with a pillow. Eric buries his face in his sheets and tries to think distracting thoughts loudly enough to drown out the constant screeching noise of his worries. That, at least, is something he’s an expert at.

.

Eric wishes he could say that he spent his entire life looking up to the stars. That would be a lie.

He spent most of his childhood looking at the ground, instead. At the toe picks beneath his feet; at the dough rising in the oven; at the floor of his school’s hallways, trying to avoid eye contact. The sky in Georgia was ordinarily clear, stars blinking in and out of view, but they’d never held much of Eric’s interest. He wouldn’t have known what to search for even if he’d tried.

Eric, aged eighteen, went to college mostly for the going and less for college. New England was as much an escape as it was a destination. He liked some of his classes, didn’t like others -- remained undeclared for most of junior year, bouncing around between classes about food and culture. He put off doing his work for too long and preferred baking to writing essays too often, but it was fine, most of the time. His days were filled with more people than papers and he found that it was exactly the way he liked it.

College was the point Eric realized that, once he’d stopped being too afraid to try, he was really good with people.

“You could charm mountains into moving for you,” his sophomore year roommate told him, not without a hint of exasperation, when Eric fretted about meeting his first boyfriend’s parents. “Literally everybody likes you.” 

And Eric laughed nervously, said, “Come on now, that is certainly not true,” because he couldn’t charm thirteen year old bullies out of forcing him across the state, couldn’t make small-town Georgia like him for who he really was. Those seemed a lot like immovable mountains to him.

But people flocked to his vlog, kept telling him he was so charismatic, and his hockey team kept turning to him for advice with their problems, and in November of junior year he reviewed his credits, expecting to see every food class his college had to offer, but found Populism and Norms and Deviance and Inequality and Social Change, instead.

He got his B.A. Got his master’s, too, not particularly fond of academia but not too keen on leaving the shelter it provided, either. He accepted an offer to work as a consultant for a big company right after grad school, spent a year expertly tailoring trade relations and marketing techniques to partners and customers from foreign cultures. He understood people, liked people, and people, apparently, liked him. It wasn’t the job of his dreams but it was a decent start, and once the one year mark came and went he began considering PR work, maybe putting his people skills to a smaller-scale use. He was twenty-five and definitely not unhappy and his eyes were, always, firmly on the ground.

And then -- well. Then, one day, NASA called.

.

Jack gathers the four of them outside the flight deck to inform them that their crew has been tasked with the last Human-Islik Intergalactic Treaty info exchange of the quarter, in time for the summit meeting at the end of August. He tells them Flight Director Hall is counting on them, tells them to wear clean suits, and when Holster and Ransom begin chanting last mission, last mission, last mission, he sternly reminds them that being assigned to the Treaty IE is an honor. Still, when they all scatter and the two of them practically skip down the bridge, Eric thinks he sees the corners of Jack’s mouth twitch.

The mission takes four days, requires a series of security checks before entering each room and short transmissions to Houston for green lights at every step. Islikaru has the largest concentration of humans outside of Earth, but protocol must be followed nevertheless. Eric shakes hands, shakes paws, shakes tentacles, makes pleasant small talk and smiles brightly and lets Ransom ramble about science and Jack deal with bureaucracy. It feels at last like a familiar dance, and Eric tries not to think about how much he doesn’t ever want to stop dancing.

By dusk of the fourth day Shitty convinces Jack to wrap it up at a local eatery, the crew crowded around a small table in a pressurized O2 pod with their helmets thrown on the seats by their thighs. Eric finds himself squeezed between Jack on one side and Shitty on the other, a cool syrupy drink emitting translucent wisps of steam in his hand. Holster orders for all of them in rusty Isli that may or may not actually result in food, but they’re all just too jubilant to care.

“Alright boys,” Shitty hollers, banging his coaster on the table several times for effect. The glass containers holding all of their drinks jiggle with its force, creating a cheerful ringing sound. “A toast to this fucking beaut of a year. Being stuck in a cramped metal case floating in nothing for three hundred sixty-five days has been a great pleasure with your rockin’ bods for company. Fucking cheers!”

Ransom whoops, Shitty pretends to wipe a tear, Holster belts out the chorus of Cheers’ theme song passionately. Eric watches them, helplessly indulgent, and thinks: he’s actually making a home here. 

On his other side, Jack shoves one of the food baskets towards Eric with his knuckles and says, “You should try the octo-bacon, if you haven’t.” His eyes meet Eric’s for a brief moment, make Eric’s lungs expand in his chest. He can’t remember the last time Jack spoke to him for no good reason. 

Jack’s face is uniquely relaxed, his jaw convulsing as he fruitlessly tries not to laugh at something Shitty says, and Eric’s former thought continues, completely unbidden: gracious, I’m going to miss these boys so much. Their bickering and their worst habits and their dumbest moments. Holster’s booming voice, Ransom’s midnight thesis writing, Shitty’s insistence on nudity, Jack’s continual ability to confuse him. 

“Holy shit, man,” Ransom says, slamming his emptied drink onto the table and staring at its last drops in awe. “What the fuck is this shit. I need another one ASAP.”

“Not it!” Holster calls, and then stretches his arm across the table, fingertip of his index finger pointed mere inches from Jack’s face. “But I just know our commander would love to buy his best crew another round. Right, Zimmermann?”

“You’re my only crew, Birkholtz,” Jack rolls his eyes, mostly good-natured. Holster’s wiggling finger and Shitty’s foot kicking at his shin beneath the table must goad him into action anyway, because he puts his helmet back on, disappears out of the pod and towards the service counter without further protest. 

While Eric watches him go, Shitty slides closer in the booth and flings his arm around Eric, tugs him right into the crook of Shitty’s body. 

“This is it, Bittle,” he sighs, eyes closing dramatically. “Once this tour ends, you will no longer hold the title of rookie. Finally, you will graduate to the same titles everybody else gets -- mainly bro, or fucker, or, if I’m spectacularly schwasted, yo, what’syourname. This is a monumental day for all. You might even get a nickname. Are you appropriately emotional?”

Eric is emotional about many things. He can't stop thinking about this crew and what they've come to mean to him, can't stop hating keeping secrets, can't stop dreading the moment they cross back into Earth. Eric is emotional about the possibility of seeing his mama again, and what it'll mean if he does; Eric is emotional about life in general, right now, so he says, “Sure thing, Shitty,” and shoves a ring of octo-bacon into his mouth. It seems, for lack of a better option, like the smartest response.

From above Ransom’s head, Eric spots Jack reappearing just beyond the glassy walls of the pod, carrying a tray with four containers between both hands. He then keeps watching, helpless and open-mouthed, as another astronaut rises from a nearby booth and slams into Jack shoulder-first, tipping the entire tray sideways and nearly knocking its contents over and to the floor.

“Oh shit, sorry mate!” the man exclaims, immediately reaching out to catch Jack’s hands and help stable the tray. His Australian accent is thick, the ASA pin decorating the shoulder that knocked into Jack glinting under artificial lights. The two of them grab the tray with three hands, containers sliding back into place still intact, before the man’s eyes flick up and catch on Jack’s face. He then jerks back, his eyes widening and his hands yanked away from Jack like he’s afraid to catch on fire. “Fuck, Zimmermann! I didn’t see it was you! Fuck my life, uh -- here, I’ll pay for the drinks --”

Eric watches, crestfallen, as Jack’s previously relaxed expression gradually darkens back into his usual scowl, lips disappearing between his teeth. “It’s fine, don’t --”

The other astronaut shakes his head vehemently, shoving his gloved hand into his utility pocket and fishing out some local coins that he then throws onto the tray haphazardly.

“Fuck no, mate, I’m not taking risks with you,” he hurries backwards, flat palms raised up, like he’s under some kind of threat Eric can’t read in Jack’s distressed body language. “For real, it was an accident, don’t get your dad to kick me off the program, yeah?”

The man backs off, scurrying back to his pod and to his whispering crewmates. Jack remains standing, shoulders rigid and tray held in clenched white knuckles, vacant stare fixed on the floor. Eric glances away from Jack for the first time since he saw him approach and notices that his whole table is silent and tense. He catches Shitty’s furrowed eyebrows and Ransom’s worried look, and becomes slowly conscious of the fact that unlike him, everybody else already know what just went on in front of them. 

Jack’s mood seems to fracture, then. He steps through the pod’s sliding sealing and sets the tray down on the table too forcibly, glass containers knocking together. He doesn’t sit back down. Shitty parts his mouth to say something, but Jack latches his helmet closed before he can, muttering, “I’m done for tonight. I’ll see you guys back on the ship.” 

His face is almost blank, valiantly trying for imperviousness, but Eric has never seen him look so decidedly miserable before. Instinctively, he reaches out to grab Jack’s wrist; he doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what just happened, but he does know that Jack shouldn’t leave like that. He manages to stammer out, “...Jack --” before Jack tears his hand away from Eric’s grip with the same excessive aggression that rattled the drinks, and says curtly, “Excuse me.”

Eric stares at his back stalking off until he's entirely out of view, feels unjustly hurt and primarily very confused.

.

Jack Zimmermann is --

Jack Zimmermann is one of NASA’s Arctic Project’s best pilots and ship commanders, Eric learned his first year in the program. He’s exceptionally committed to his job, loyal to his crew, unwaveringly focused on the mission. He’s direct, sometimes brutally so. He’s good at following orders, makes tough decisions under pressure, and never takes the opportunity to rub elbows with the higher ups. He just loves what he does, and does it notably well.

The name and the legend is a lot to live up to, but when Eric met Jack he realized that the man is exactly as he’s advertised. Jack, in the role of Jack Zimmermann, is straightforwardly that: an amazing astronaut, an amazing ship commander, an amazing pilot.

It’s unfortunate, then, that Jack in the role of a human being is sometimes an enormous asshole.

.

The ship’s lights are all off when the boys straggle themselves back on board later in the evening, their boots dragging sluggishly against gravity. When Jack left, the celebratory mood followed his footsteps out the door; no one seemed the least bit inclined to talk about it, so Eric didn’t ask. Though the four of them did their best to recover, cracking halfhearted jokes and staying for another couple of rounds, even Shitty’s mustache seems to droop lower than normal by the time they finally find their way back to the ship. 

Shitty passes airlock and walks straight towards the pilots’ quarters without saying a thing, so Eric wordlessly follows Holster and Ransom into their own quarters, brow still creased with puzzlement. He watches as Holster starts stripping by the door and Ransom sits down on the bottom bunk to take off his gear, and waits, and waits, until the silence is just too strange to handle.

“Alright, can anyone tell me what in the deep-fried hell was that?”

Holster glowers, rips off his support strap with gusto. He doesn’t answer, so Eric turns his frown at Ransom, who sighs as he removes the tough overshoe off his boots. “Ignore him, Bittle. Jack just gets real bitchy when people mention his dad. Which happens pretty often because, you now, his dad.”

“His dad…?” Eric prompts, desperate, because it seems like he should know something that he doesn’t. It’s not in the least a foreign feeling these days, when concerning space and science and always, always Jack.

Ransom looks up at him, one boot dangling from his left hand. “Yeah, you know, his dad. It’s a lot of pressure, living up to that. It’s probably most of why Jack is how Jack is.”

Eric doesn’t believe daddy issues are any excuse to be so surly, and he thinks, rather bitterly, that he would know something about the matter. But he pushes, still, because it’s always one step forward and three steps back with Jack, and any scrap of information making his commander seem a little more human could go a long way right now. Or even not human; Lord knows Eric can figure out nonhums just fine. “What does he have to live up to?”

Holster pauses peeling off the suit’s hard upper torso to squint incredulously at Eric. The lower torso assembly of the suit pools around his thighs. “You don’t know who Mad Bob is?”

“Uh,” Eric deflates, taking a tentative step back, the crown of his head hitting the frame of the top bunk. The tone of conversation begins to sound a lot like the time he disclosed that he doesn’t really know the periodic table or has, at any point of time, known it at all. “No. I don’t.”

Ransom throws his other boot to the side and leans forward, elbows resting on his knees and face contorting into an expression that closely mirrors Holster’s; surprised, scandalized, disbelieving. “He’s like -- Mad Bob. He was the first commander in the original Avalanche Project. He was the first pilot to leave the Solar System and come back alive?” 

“They say he was the first to meet extraterrestrial life!” Holster gestures grandly with his hand, yanking off the EV glove to have free use of the other hand as well. 

“That’s actually not true,” Ransom clarifies, “No nonhum races were recorded until almost a decade later --”

“Not the point, dude,” Holster waves him off. “The point is, Mad Bob is a legend. His ship nearly burned on the way back to Earth and he totally saved everyone on board. Made the first round trip, you know? He’s a big fucking deal. Can’t believe you’ve never heard of him.”

Eric blanches, digs his nails into his skin to hold his instinctual reaction at bay. Eric spent the first twenty-five years of his life with his feet planted firmly on the ground, his eyes never straying upwards. Later, Eric spent every moment of his time at Houston scrambling to prove his worth in an environment so wholly alien to him that the irony in the metaphor was no longer funny. Eric wouldn’t be able to tell Neil Armstrong from Adam, just like Eric can never really remember the difference between Newton’s and Einstein's theories, doesn't know the primary structure of proteins even now. Eric doesn’t belong here, and he’s quickly running out of time to pretend like he does.

“Oh,” he says finally, weakly. Holster and Ransom haven’t looked away from him yet, so he averts his eyes, turns to face his bunk. “Must’ve just missed it somehow.”

He can almost hear Holster and Ransom hem and haw for a few long, silent moments, before the sound of nylon rustling resumes. Eric takes a deep breath, and does his very best not to regret ever asking. It’s made worse by the fact that this hasn't really helped him understand Jack any better than before.

.

So Jack had spent most of Eric’s first few months on the ship treating Eric like an inconvenience. That was okay -- it hadn’t been the first time he’d been perceived like that, and it wouldn’t be the last. He hadn’t been a fresh-faced teenager from the South in a long while; he’d been older, tougher. He’d been places and had met people, nicer people and smarter people and even meaner people than Jack Zimmermann. He hadn’t really needed a pat on the shoulder or an encouraging smile, just the opportunity to do his job, and do it well.

The real problem was that Eric had always been good at his job because he understood people. And Eric, despite his best begrudging efforts, cannot make sense of Jack.

Jack, who clearly had not understood Eric’s job at all until, suddenly and out of nowhere, there was Evor. Jack who, after Evor, told Eric good work and sounded like maybe he even meant it. Jack who, after Evor, was sat by Eric when Lardo radioed to tell them that Jack’s report had made the deputy administrator call to congratulate Eric specifically. 

Jack who, also after Evor, stopped meeting Eric’s eyes unless absolutely necessary. Jack, who Eric sometimes caught staring from the corner of his eye, looking lost in thoughts. Jack, who roughhoused with Shitty in the flight deck, and arranged Holster a private DSN connection for his mom’s birthday, and listened to Charlie Rich on late night piloting shifts -- but whose glimpses of personality disappeared the moment Eric tried to study them for too long.

Missions transformed into something different in the aftermath of Evor. A month after the crew’s return to action they were sent to do testing on the magnetic field of Pladora, and Jack put Eric in charge of communication with the local scientists without preambles. Eric choked, floundered, but grabbed the opportunity with both hands; he still couldn’t shake the weight of Jack’s gaze on his shoulders whenever he spoke with the Pladoran team.

Later, Jack pulled him aside and asked, “Are you capable of confidently explaining to me the exact kind of testing we’re doing here?”, stared at Eric until he was fidgeting uncomfortably in place. “It’s important that you can do that,” he added, like Eric didn’t already know, like Eric didn’t think about it every night before he fell asleep, like he needed Jack’s eyes on him for that, making the nape of his neck burn and his palms tingle with sweat. But Jack frowned at him, then, took a step back, like he didn’t understand why Eric was flushed with embarrassment. It almost seemed for a moment like he wasn’t actively gunning for humiliation.

And then it happened again. Two weeks after that they were helping ESA fix a satellite on a German space station, and Jack left Eric to discuss mission parameters unattended, but also ordered him to watch Shitty install a new GPS chip for three hours. During the strategy session for a recon mission in the Austra System, Jack insisted on hearing Eric’s opinion, but also accosted him after it to demand that Eric read about the complication with the wavelength disturbance. In a charged encounter with destitute merchants from a dead galaxy, Jack remained two steps behind Eric’s right shoulder and let him conciliate them, but when Eric later babbled about the civil turmoil caused by the demise of the galaxy, Jack asserted that he should understand the astrophysical process leading to such death.

So Eric generously thought: maybe Jack was trying, poorly. But three months after Evor the two of them returned to the ship frazzled and peeved, had spent most of the day wrangling with diplomats on Uzeru, and Eric scrubbed a hand over his face, resolved to try one more time. He offered Jack a friendly, tired smile, and said, “Wanna share bad coffee in the kitchen to drown our sorrows?”, but Jack only shook his head once, sharply, before immediately walking away.

The inability to make any sense of it consumes Eric's thoughts for much longer than he's comfortable with. Jack pushes and then pulls, hovers over Eric professionally but disappears the moment it’s interpersonal. A week before they're off for leave Eric looks up from his plate to see Jack taking his dinner into the flight deck, ignoring Shitty’s offer to join him, and thinks that maybe he can never peek past Jack's mask because Jack makes sure to turn away whenever it comes off. He thinks that maybe this is what loneliness looks like, thinks that he should still know better than to care, thinks for the first time that maybe Jack’s silent treatment is nothing more than not knowing what to say to Eric after Evor. Thinks that maybe Jack’s inept solution to not knowing what to say is to just say nothing at all.

.

The impact crater chipping Vylos’ surface is visible from two-hundred thousand miles out. It’s the nearest planet to the jumping point back to Earth, and its crater serves as a parking lot for all ships on their way to or from there. Its chaotic layout strongly reminds Eric of the QuikTrip station just north of Atlanta, but he bites his tongue and keeps that to himself. Jack and Shitty have probably never seen a QuikTrip, anyway.

Jack grumbles about finding a parking space on the night before leave, body curved over the control wheel and eyes squinted at the windowpane. Shitty leaves him to it, drapes his legs sideways on his armrest to tell Eric about the long claws of capitalism stretching into the cosmos, and how this has resulted in Vylosian beer being the best there is this side of the Milky Way, “Even though it’s like, totally not a real beer, dude, but -- marketing ploy!”, and how its atmosphere was chemically engineered, “To be breathable for all us Earthly suckers passing by ‘cause of the jump point. Filthy fucking marketing plot, I tell ya -- and the beer costs like my goddamn kidney.”

“Your goddamn kidney’s not worth much with the amount of Vylosian beer you regularly consume,” Jack interjects, lowering the ship into a vacant spot skillfully. Vylos’ terrain, reflected at Eric from the three surrounding windows in the flight deck, is grainy and blue.

The Vylosian bar Shitty buoyantly pushes them into is decorated in mismatched memorabilia, posters of Uma Thurman and Justin Bieber and a life-size stormtrooper suit personally signed by George Lucas looming by the wall. The AI pouring the drinks is a hologram in the shape of a Western saloon bartender, the beer is thick and neon green. Eric’s been outside the Kármán line for nearly a year and feels caught by surprise, still, almost daily; but tonight he gets to wear denim shorts instead of nylon spacesuits, gets to clink his glass against Ransom’s, gets to pretend that tomorrow isn’t possibly the end of it all. It has to be enough, he thinks, and takes a determined drink.

Their group starts out leaning against the wooden countertop, skin sticking to its surface. Later, Holster and Ransom chat their way into the table of two local girls, and Jack disappears from view. Eventually, their group winds up scattered across different corners of the bar, red-faced and loose. Eric catches himself repeatedly looking up from the bottom of his glass to the open door, at the pale glint of the sky just outside it, and after a thorough sweep around he takes his drink, gets up, and starts walking.

.

The bar overlooks the vast expanses of the crater sprawling beneath it, and Eric finds himself sitting outside at the edge of the cliff, thighs bare over the rough azure dirt and beer glass tilting in his hand. Vylos’ three moons are out of sync, rising and peaking and setting in a simultaneous cycle, and Eric is busy watching them when he hears heavy footsteps coming up behind him.

He’s surprised to find Jack standing there, suspended in motion with his hands deep in his pockets and his hair windswept, figure backlit by the lights of the bar twinkling behind him. He seems just as startled to see Eric; his expression wavers out of its usual stoic façade to betray some semblance of emoting.

“Oh, Bittle, I -- I thought you’re inside with the boys,” Jack blinks, a hint of a frown wrinkling his forehead. 

“No,” Eric blinks in turn, unsettled by this strange creature wearing the face of his commander. He looks so different in jeans and an AsCans training program t-shirt, out of the bulky spacesuits they spend most days in. “Uh -- no. I’m not.”

“Right.” Jack nods stiffly, glances at the ground and then at a spot somewhere over Eric’s shoulder. His body language is guarded, and he looks misplaced, painfully awkward. They still haven’t exchanged more than two or three sentences in private since Evor and Eric, typically the chatterbox, wouldn’t even know where to begin. “Well, uh, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll go.”

“You’re not interrupting,” Eric says, before he can think too carefully about why the heck he’d say such a thing. Before he can recall the snapshot memory of Jack turning to eat dinner in the flight deck, alone. “I mean. I’m just sitting here. Drinking alien beer,” he raises his glass, the bright green liquid sloshing around, leaving traces of neon on its rim. The ridiculousness of the situation may be slightly lost on Jack, but not on him. Space still is, and probably always will be, kind of weird.

“Right,” Jack repeats, the line of his back tightening and his eyes narrowing at Eric. “Be careful with that. Don’t want you to throw up during descent tomorrow.”

Dear Lord. One step forward and three steps back. “Yes, Commander,” Eric sighs, swallowing the chagrin out of his voice. His shoulders sag as his body curls towards the view, away from Jack. God forbid Jack Zimmermann think about anything other than the mission for a single flippin' moment. Eric should know better than to be disappointed, but the sour churn of his stomach is unmistakable. Eric should, but doesn’t.

The footsteps behind him pick up again, and he expects to hear Jack walking farther and farther away. Instead, he’s shocked into silence by Jack sliding into his peripheral view, sitting down beside him on the cliff. His shoulders are rigid, his mouth pressed thin. His expression looks like he’s as bewildered as Eric by his own actions.

“Are you excited to go back?” Jack asks after a long, uncomfortable minute, during which they both sit mutely and watch the pits of Vylos before them. Its second moon has finished a full rotation and is now shining down in soft lilac beams. Jack’s voice is tense, flat; this boy, Eric thinks almost pityingly, really is terrible at small talk.

He’s been asked this question a dozen times that month, but mustering his practiced fake enthusiasm now seems hard. Maybe it’s the alien alcohol; maybe it’s that Jack could regress into not speaking to him again at any moment. “I guess so. Home sweet home, ‘m I right?”

Jack shrugs one shoulder, a short and angular movement. “It doesn't feel like going home to me,” he says, honest and plain. “I spend most of my time out here. It’s more like -- a summer vacation. Some people go to the Caribbean and we go visit Earth.”

Eric nods, absently, unsure of how to respond. He brings his glass to his lips and takes a long swig of it, tastes green all the way to the back of his throat. It’s almost impossible to imagine that in twenty-four hours he could be drinking locally-produced white wine in the Washington Corridor. Earth feels so darn far away.

“What’ll you do on your vacation, then?” Eric asks after another long stretch of silence, mostly out of politeness that his mother persistently lectured into him over years. 

Jack’s attention is fixed on the moons, his profile sculpted by the sharp lines of his nose and cheekbones and chin. His eyes are so pale under the lilac moon -- big, slanted, annoyingly beautiful. He remains quiet for a moment, leans his weight on his palms and considers Eric’s question. His gaze is still flickering over the view when he says, finally, “I usually go see my parents. Read. Buy groceries.”

Eric snorts inelegantly. If he didn’t know any better, didn’t know Jack any better, that could almost be mistaken for a joke. “Buy groceries?”

“Yes,” Jack says, perfectly serious. His eyes flit over to meet Eric’s, and Eric holds them for only a moment before quickly looking away. His cheeks grow inexplicably warm. “I don’t really miss anything when I’m up here -- I mean, not really -- but I guess sometimes it’s nice to remember people. Stupid human stuff, eh? Supermarkets. Banks. I always think I'd catch a movie in the theatre but somehow I never do.”

He appears to be uncomfortable with his admission, face closing off once the words are out of his mouth. The sharp lines of his features twist back into a familiar scowl, but Eric watches them, him, thoroughly transfixed. The authentic snippet of personality cannot disappear under the reapplied mask this time; Jack has put something truthful on the table, a hint of something charmingly sentimental. A mundane humanity space can't recreate, newspapers and laundromats and coffee stands and taxes. Grocery shopping. Eric doesn’t know if the fast, erratic beating in his chest is at the sweet tinge of it, or the mere thought of Jack paying attention to such things.

“You should,” Eric finally finds his words somewhere in his strangled windpipe, slowly facing forward. Jack, and his continual ability to confuse. He can see Jack from the corner of his eye, turning his head to subtly raise both eyebrows at Eric. “Go to the movies. You should do it this time.”

“Yeah. Maybe I will,” Jack says after a long pause. “I'll tell you how it went when we’re back here.”

“If I come back,” Eric sighs before he can catch himself, and then freezes, fingers clenching around his glass. Dang it. Dang it all to hell.

“What?” Jack asks, confused, and when Eric refuses to meet his eyes, shoulders squaring and chin dropping to his chest, Jack’s voice sharpens and he repeats, “What? What do you mean? Bittle. What do you mean.”

Eric exhales unsteadily, rubbing his forehead with the back of his free hand. He thought he'd have more time. He thought -- like he always does, and is always wrong -- that he’d successfully outrun his problems by denying their existence. He could try shoving those four incriminating words back into his mouth, but Eric can feel Jack’s intense attention focused on the side of his face. Once Jack stepped back into the professional boots of Commander Zimmermann, no denial will make him let this go. 

“I’m spending all of my leave in Texas. I gotta pass evaluation for the clearance to come back here with y’all. These past six months were my test run -- I’ve never passed the written exam.” Eric drags his shoe through the sandy ground, watches as the grooves he makes are swept away. “Y’all know I’m no good at the sciency stuff, Jack, alright. I don't need to hear it from you as well. If I don't get an adequate score I'm off the program for good.”

Eric chews the inside of his cheek and chances a side glance. Jack looks outraged, his thick brows drawn down and his entire face devoid of color. Eric’s immediate reflex is to flinch away, but Jack speaks before he can make a move. “What subjects?”

“What?” Eric asks, thrown completely off-balance. He was expecting a thundering reprimand at worst, an indifferent dismissal at best. He doesn’t know what the quiet, heated response he's gotten even is. 

"What subjects are they testing you on?”

Eric hesitates, body still braced for the blow that isn't coming. “Uh. All of the introductory subjects. Basic physics, geobiology... mostly modern astronomy. But I swear --”

“Alright,” Jack cuts him off with a single sharp nod, his chin sticking out slightly, like Eric has somehow pushed him to make up his mind. His expression, typically impassive, is now staggeringly transparent. “I’ll help you study for the written exam.”

“What?" Eric blinks several times, glances down to see if he's had more to drink than he thought, but the glass is still half-full and Jack's figure is still corporeal by his side, intense expression still in place. He doesn't fade away like the hallucination Eric is so sure he must be. "Jack -- what --?”

Jack doesn't seem to pick up on the astonishment that has Eric stumbling over his words. “We’ve got two and a half weeks, right? You need entry level stuff to pass that exam. If we study hard, you can do it.”

Eric thinks he might be gaping, his mouth hanging open and growing dry in the arid air, but he apparently isn't capable of collecting his jaw off of Vylos’ ground. “But… what… but you’ll be in Canada…?”

“I’ll stay in Huston,” Jack looks determined. “Bittle, we're a team. You should’ve told us before and we would’ve helped you. You’re a strong crew member, you’re smart, you’ve got an edge that none of us has got. If that’s the only thing holding you back we’re going to get you over it. Study clinic, day and night.” He pauses, the self-assurances faltering for only a moment, and the lines of his mouth soften somewhat. “Just trust me, okay?”

Eric is absolutely floored. The only foolish thing that manages to leave his mouth is, “What about going to the movies?”

Jack almost smiles. Eric has spied that expression on rare occasions before, but never directed at him, and never from up close. It does something to Jack's face that Eric can't put in words. “I’ll catch one on the next leave. Which you’ll be taking as well, ‘cause you’re not leaving the program. We've got each other's backs, Bittle.”

Under the moonlight, purple shadows carving his face from marble and a mellow half-smile twisting the corners of his mouth upwards, Eric could almost let himself admit how handsome Jack is. Jack rubs the dirt off of one palm and slowly curls his fingers, holds them up in a silent offer. Eric can see the thin veins beneath the surface of his skin. He looks at the hand, looks up at Jack, and lets a tentative smile blossom on his face. He brings his clenched hand up to meet Jack’s, and bumps his fist.

#zimbits #omgcp #omgcheckplease #zimbits fic #it is the space fic! they are in space! #i cleaned up the first chapter if anyone wants to reread or catch up #check please! #jack x bitty #pavfics #okay great this is a series now. i'm SORRY

[saladejin]

Call An Uber? | 04

BTS x Reader | idolverse au, uber driver!Reader, translator!Reader |  Fluff, flirting, super slow burn, angst and hurt/comfort, mature themes and eventual smut

Summary:  Your normal life with a normal, yet inconsistent job gets drastically changed when your dreams come true. Sounds boring right?

What happens when all of this occurs, but you’re still doing something you love AND getting a large sum for it? Now there’s something to think about, and it’s definitely not what you’re thinking.

Warnings: Implied mental health struggles, anxiety and slight panic attack

Word Count: 2.9k 

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  Another three days passing brought forth another fresh steaming pile of emotions. 

I was due to start my job at Bighit in the following week, and had been dropping in to meet with Bang PD and the staff regularly since the initial signing of the documents. Its only purpose was just for me to get to know everyone, since I would start off in the company playing a major role, and for me to get comfortable in the environment. PD-nim knew I was not used to working for such large and renowned companies, and I was so happy he had taken that into consideration.

Another meet-and-greet done today, and I was trembling. 

I didn’t know why it had all suddenly decided to drop on me now, but my only solace was the splash of vivid crimson sitting out in the otherwise monochrome carpark of the building. I yanked open the car door with shaking fingers and all but fell into the familiar leather seat, my breathing uneven from the tightening within my chest.

Don’t get me wrong at all, the company was absolutely amazing, and so were all the staff and their immediate hospitality. Bang PD was like a second father to me already, and I’d even had him ruffle my hair once today after he’d somehow managed to laugh at one of my jokes. His assistant, which I now knew as Chang Soojin, or just Soojin-unni as she had told me to use, was becoming a reliable colleague and friend pretty quickly too. I had met many members of the staff, including the co-ordi noonas, managers, stylists etc. Even a group of interpreters who specialised in specific languages.

Hence why they employed me so quickly, I’d thought to myself after finding out they only knew English and Korean.

There was that one Spanish interpreter, who had been absent on the ‘fateful day’, but he was now doing fine and had profusely apologised to me afterwards. I felt bad for the guy, as I probably seemed like a warning replacement if anything of disarray was to happen again.

Bighit can be bloody scary, damn.

My breathing had evened slightly, but stress was still causing my head to become a mess of jagged scribbles. So much had changed in my life recently, and even if it had an overall positive effect, my mind was still left reeling. This was the kind of sudden responsibility that made me want to revisit my childhood days, to let go of being an adult and to be surrounded by nothing but carefree bliss.

A light rapping on my car passenger window tore me from my strangling thoughts. I gasped, squinting my eyes to glimpse at the darkly clothed figure before sighing. The person had thoroughly frightened me, and I wasn’t very happy about it. They crouched down to look in, and when they saw I was making no move to stop them, they pulled open the passenger door hesitantly.

“Is this Uber operating?” Yoongi softly asked.

I was still irritated that my precious alone-time had been ruined, after going through quite a bit of anxiety about my life in general, but I couldn’t bring myself to refuse the impassive man at the moment. After even more thought, I concluded that having someone to talk to would in fact help me the most right now. When I nodded slowly, sighing again in an attempt to regather myself, he lowered his head in gentle understanding.

“Uh, if it’s a really bad time I-”

“No, Yoongi. Wait is it even okay to not use honorifics? Should I call you oppa?” I shook my head, my voice steadily gaining life again from how croaky it sounded before. I hadn’t cried, but I was definitely on the verge before he’d made his appearance.

Yoongi settled into the passenger seat holding a lidded coffee cup. He was dressed in dark but flowy clothing, and I questioned his sanity briefly considering how hot it was outside. It was mid-afternoon at the moment, but we both didn’t seem to have schedules planned.

“Even though I’m not against it, I feel like dropping the honorifics would work better for you. I won’t get offended,” he hummed, sipping his coffee. I noticed how tired his eyes were under the cap he wore, and instantly felt bad for being annoyed with him before. He adorned a black mask too, but it was sitting under his chin to make talking and drinking easier.

“Did you also want coffee? I could offer to get you one.”

His sudden question caused me to blink in confusion. Then I realised I had been eyeing the cup in his pale hands quite intensely. His dark eyes were blank and his pale blue-white hair was slightly roughened from the breeze outside. Trying not to fawn over him, I broke out into a strained chuckle while my hands came up to slap my cheeks in embarrassment.

“No no no, I wasn’t…Ah I’m sorry, I just have a lot going on at the moment.” I decided to let the cat out of the bag with another sigh. He may as well know what was going on behind my outwardly apparent emotions. I didn’t even know how I was meant to hold a decent conversation when my insides were such a nervous wreck. I knew I would build myself up again eventually, but he just happened to catch me at a vulnerable time.

“Yeah, I could tell,” he started. “I followed you out because I saw you running out here shaking like a leaf. I guess it sounds kind of creepy when put like that.” He shrugged, eyeing the dashboard of my car while I just tried to take in his quiet observation.

“No, actually I appreciate it. You haven’t even met me yet…ugh why am I doing everything backwards right now?” I rested my head onto the steering wheel, positively exasperated. Yoongi and I had never even held a conversation before, but here I was acting like a total idiot and making him worry about my mental health.

“Don’t worry about it, you’re all I hear about these days.” He sighs with a groan, letting his head roll back to rest against the leather headrest. My own curiosity was tickled.

“Really? Let me guess, ‘the crazy Uber chick who somehow managed to get herself involved with shit that didn’t concern her’?”

He laughed silently at that, the gummy smile melting my bundling insides into a puddle – and suddenly everything was alright.

I didn’t have to have everything in my life figured out right now, I just had to make the most of my time with these amazingly driven individuals who had undoubtedly captured my heart. Alongside this job which was actually my passion to begin with.

I didn’t even know how I hadn’t freaked out over the fact that the Min Yoongi, worldwide famous producer and rapper, was sitting in my car. He was sitting in the same seat the Park Jimin had sat in about a week and a half ago. I needed to shut down my brain before it began to burn a hole into the back of my skull from overworking.

“That would be funny, but no, definitely not. I just wish the young ones would let me sleep, but they’ve been excited. I swear I’ve already met you ten times at this point.”

I snort in amusement, absolutely loving how blunt he was about the whole situation. Too many people, since I had arrived in the country, were overbearingly polite and careful with their words. I was not used to it at all, and it made the ‘foreign’ experience all the more jarring. Yoongi probably understood this to an extent, so I was grateful he tried his best to be more casual right away.

“Look, can I start driving? I just need to clear my head a bit. Maybe I can introduce myself properly.” I exhaled loudly, my nerves significantly calmed since chatting a little. Even though I felt terrible at the thought, I couldn’t help but be grateful that it was Yoongi who had paid me a surprise visit instead of one of the others. His presence was somewhat reserved and I had trouble reading the guy half the time, but his company was the type I needed instead of something loud and overwhelming.

“Sure, I did kind of barge in so you can continue with whatever you were doing.”

You mean almost having a mental breakdown?

“But I do want to actually meet you, because if I have to hear your name around the dorm one more fucking time without knowing who you are, I may just snap.”

I laughed loudly, his grunt-worthy words causing amusement to roil around in my chest. I figured I would question him about exactly what was said a bit later. For now, I just needed to relax and ease my worries, and driving was my channel for exactly that. I started reversing out of the carpark with silence finally befalling the car, grateful to finally leave behind the line of black company vans surrounding me. I found it ominous if I was completely honest. Engulfed by the view of several identical black vans was a little unsettling when the only car I was used to was Red.

When did I even decide to name my car? It’s such a boring name too.

“Well, I can start by saying my name is (L/n) (Y/n). (Y/n) is fine, and you already known I don’t care for honorifics. I’m from (Y/c), and I landed a job at Bighit Entertainment by letting two of your band members hitch a ride. Ultimately escaping their foreseeable deaths.” My dramatic tone increased the longer I spoke, and I could see the corners of Yoongi’s lips turning up gradually.

“That sounds about right. Jiminie told me you were a big fan, but it turns out you are really collected when you see us. I appreciate your efforts, but feel free to let it out if you need.” He tilted his head with a smirk, his ‘Genius Suga’ persona surfacing within the span of two whole seconds. I just bit my lip to contain another amused giggle.

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m not one to freak out after the initial shock. Most of my extra-ness is of the internal type, I’m afraid.”

He shook his head in mock disappointment, eventually flashing me that endearing expression where his lips stretched across his whole face. I covered my cheeks with one hand to stop my bubbling amusement from erupting.

“Stop please, or I’ll crash!”

He simply sipped his coffee, smirking again at my reaction. I knew I hadn’t actually doused his ego, but his antics still aided in lifting my spirits higher and higher. As I tried to figure out where I wanted to drive, Yoongi pulled out a small notepad full of scrawled notes and scribbled out lines.

“Well, you already know who I am, that much I can guess. Now that we’ve met, I can tell those kids to shut up and do something useful,” he continued. Even though his tone was full of complaint, I knew he loved every single one of those boys wholeheartedly.

“Where are they now?” I asked through a smile, glancing down as the rapper flicked through his notepad to the page he had last used. “Practicing more, at least I know Jiminie, Jin-hyung and Jungkook-ah are. We’ve got a big concert and a comeback soon, so everyone is riled up.”

“Yeah, that seems like a packed schedule for at least a few months. I’m really excited for what you guys have in store though, it seems too unreal that I actually get to see everything behind the scenes for the first time in my life,” I sighed out in awe, thinking about a possible new album and new content. How could I even go about it normally when everything was different? Wait, was I going to get a discounted album? I surely hoped so.

Yoongi looked at me carefully before making a few notes in his notepad, his fingers working the pen deftly through long and hardened experience. His ripped black jeans were tighter than I initially thought they were, but my attention only went there because he was tapping his foot rhythmically as he wrote.

“Lyrics?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow in his direction and diverting my attention. I drove towards the outskirts of Seoul, hoping to find somewhere quiet and peaceful to settle for a bit. The time had essentially flown by, but I was sure the sky wouldn’t darken just yet.

“Yeah, just the usual. I help write a lot of songs, and lyrics always just flood into my brain at the most random times, you know?” he murmured, flicking backwards to another page and filling in another empty space.

The realisation that I was driving somewhere random and unknown hit me suddenly, and I briefly wondered if taking Yoongi with me would end up costing me my job all too soon. I was quickly reminded of a similar occurrence with two maknaes, one that caused the managers and Namjoon to lose their absolute marbles.

“Um, I was gonna drive randomly around the area, but I just realised that your managers would skin me alive if they knew I took you with me. Does anyone know you’re with me?”

Yoongi looked up, his eyes, which were once laser-focused on his lyrics, now scoured into my own and I gulped suddenly. His long, dark eyelashes were always beautiful, but they were even more mesmerising in person and this close. They contrasted so nicely against his milky skin that I almost lost focus on the road again.

I may just crash and kill someone one of these days. Customer or not.

“I texted a few people,” was all he said before returning to his notepad, and I shrugged indifferently. He was an adult, and he could make his own decisions. I just hoped I didn’t cop any roastings for it later on.

“Would I be able to show you something?” he then asked.

I glanced sideways, catching him picking at his nails with his teeth apprehensively. It seemed he was stuck on something to do with a lyric, but I didn’t know how I could possibly lend a hand. His lyrics were always so impactful and flowed so nicely. How could I form my own opinion when everything I’d heard from him so far was nothing less than beautiful?

“Yeah? Did you need another perspective?” I probed, willing my feelings of disbelief down into the depths of my subconscious.

“Well, I’m trying to tie together my verse in one of the new songs, and I almost have it. I want someone fresh to have a look.” He held out the pad and I pulled over onto the side of the smaller road. We were now definitely nearing the more ‘picturesque’ side of Seoul anyway, and the city fell away behind us as my eyes scanned over Yoongi’s handwriting. The last line struck a chord deeply within me.

“This is real you, and this is real me” – which one is “you”? Which one is “me”?

“Wow, this really hits hard,” I breathe, reading over the snippets of the verse he had written again to fully absorb what was going on. The whole thing was emotional, and raw. I could imagine his voice rapping hard to form these thoughts, the angry and hurt emotions seeping in.

“I can feel the struggle through the lyrics. It’s like you’ve been through a false love that you threw yourself into after believing it was true...a betrayal of sorts, I guess?” I met his eyes again and grew a little confused when a chuckle of irony fell from him. It must have been some joke I didn’t understand.

“I’m glad you feel so much from it.” He blinked. “I’m actually going to try a different technique with this track, so expect some changes from my usual style.”

He then smiled again, taking the notepad before I could catch any glimpses of the other notes. I couldn’t contain a soft huff of annoyance. “You’re not just gonna tell me?”

He deadpanned before parting his lips to respond. “Just because you work for Bighit doesn’t mean you get every special privilege.” I almost reeled at the thought of bothering him with my question, but he only smiled again while tucking his notepad away.

“Plus, you’re a fan, so my goal is to keep it a secret for as long as possible.”

“Mean,” I grunted, pulling out onto the road again so I could start to head home. The sky was darkening, and I knew there were only so many boundaries I could push before I crossed the line. Yoongi seemed to know this too, but he avoided addressing the subject for some reason.

“Where do you want to be dropped? I’ll have you know I’ve been charging you handsomely for this Uber service,” I muttered, still pretending to be pissed off at him for hiding information.

“I’ll buy you a coffee next time, I promise.”

          Copyright © 2020 by salade. All rights reserved

tagged: @l4life​, @joyful-jimin​

#bts fanfiction #bts x reader #bts #btsfanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenarios #ot7 #idol au #bts crack #bts smut #bts imagine #reader insert #kim namjoon #min yoongi #park jimin #jeon jungkook #kim seokjin #kim taehyung #jung hoseok #uber driver #fluff and angst #call an uber? #salade-tb

[nitewrighter]

Hey :) i kinda miss your prefall Gency fic... Do you think you can write some more ? Take care ♥

I’m still thinking about the canonical existence of Overwatch Propaganda Cartoons that we saw in that preview of Hero of Numbani.

...can you tell I watched old GI Joe opening theme songs specifically for this fic?

Also credit goes to @apocryphist for coming up with “underhand” which really should be the only name for villains in the Overwatch universe.

-----

Genji drummed his fingers on the conference room table as he rested his chin in his other hand. Mercy sat to his left, nonchalantly tapping out some correspondence on her tablet as they waited. On his other side, Tracer was bouncing her knee with her fingers interlaced on the table in front of her, doing her best to at least put forward the semblance of a strike team leader despite her fidgeting. Winston sat stiffly next to her, apparently trying to scroll through lab results on his own tablet but clearly too nervous to stay focused. It was a bright and slightly breezy afternoon in Zurich, and normally Genji would have been gracefully slashing his way through the training grounds at this time, but instead they were all here.

“I can’t stand it when they don’t say what the meetings are about,” mumbled Winston. 

“It’s probably a top secret mission!” said Tracer.

“’Secret?’” said Winston, sounding even more nervous, “I’m... I’m not exactly good at ‘secret.’”

“Is it unrealistic to hope we got more intel from Doomfist?” said Genji, glancing at Mercy.

“I wish,” huffed Mercy, “But from what debriefings I could get my hands on, he hasn’t given us anything useful.”

“How is that possible?” said Genji, “After all the internal damage he did to Talon’s internal power structure, shouldn’t they be scrambling without him? Shouldn’t there be a power vacuum?”

“I don’t know any more than you do...” said Winston, readjusting his glasses. 

“Honestly I thought you’d know more about it, what with the Blackwatch stuff,” said Tracer.

“Still benched,” said Genji, folding his arms.

“Officially,” said Mercy with a slight side-eye.

Genji gave her an amused “Hmph,” before saying, “Either way, Reyes pushed me out of the loop now that I’m on your strike team... not that I paid that much attention to the loop befo---”

The door opened and everyone perked up at the sight of Jack Morrison and Sojourn walking into the room. Jack seemed uneasy, but honestly Mercy couldn’t really recall the last time he seemed at ease.

“Okay, before we start, I want all of you to keep an open mind with this,” he said, looking across all of them.

“...Very encouraging, Strike Commander,” said Sojourn, with slightly sardonic amusement. She put her hands on her hips and turned to face Tracer’s strike team, “As you all know, when you’re recruited into Overwatch, you sign a waiver allowing us to use your image in... all sorts of stuff. Press releases, scientific publications, training videos for new recruits---”

“Posters,” said Mercy, already skeptical.

“Posters, too,” said Sojourn with a smile, “However, back during Omnic Crisis Reconstruction, we were using the images of heroes for a lot more.”

“Heroes?” Genji repeated quietly as Sojourn produced a remote control from the pocket of her jacket and hit a button. The venetian blinds tilted to shut out the sunlight and the lights of the room dimmed as the wallscreen lit up behind Sojourn. The screen lit up in bright colors and red and yellow explosions as a trumpeting fanfare started playing. Tracer’s face lit up as a young cartoon version of Jack Morrison appeared on the screen, pumping his fist in the air. 

“The world needs heroes!” said the cartoon Jack Morrison, “Are you with us?” 

Genji glanced at Jack who was very clearly cringing at his cartoon self.

“Oh yes!” said Tracer, her eyes bright, “It’s been years since I’ve watched this! You guys know the song, right?” she said looking at her teammates, “..No?”

The theme song was already playing, and Tracer was singing along with it eagerly.

There’s no need to fear

Overwatch is here!

Saving all we hold dear!

Mercy made a ‘I really hope this meeting isn’t going the way I think it’s going,’ face at Genji and Genji suppressed a chuckle, but Tracer seemed absolutely thrilled and even Winston was humming along with the theme song. The theme song kept playing and even introduced different members of the old Overwatch Strike team. One of the animators clearly had fun lavishing a lot of attention on Ana Amari’s hair whipping around from the force of an explosion behind her. A still-blonde cartoon Reinhardt brawled fist-to-fist with some kind of black and neon green robot. Cartoon Morrison jumped a motorcycle off of an aircraft carrier with cartoon Reyes wielding a missile launcher in the sidecar. Torbjörn and Liao were working side by side in a lab before the camera panned out to reveal they were in a bright blue tank-like vehicle Genji safely assumed was entirely made up to sell toys, firing off RPG’s with even more explosions. Sojourn chuckled watching her cartoon self fire two submachine guns at black and neon green helicopters while parachuting out of an exploding jet. There was, all in all, a frankly ridiculous amount of explosions. It finally ended with one last massive explosion and fanfare and cartoon versions of Sojourn and the entire original strike team all pumping their fists in the air with Morrison in the center. 

Sojourn hit another button on her remote, the wall screen blipped off, the venetian blinds opened and the lights came on, leaving everyone sitting at the conference table blankly.

“Ahh! Still just as good as when I was a kid!” said Tracer, excitedly.

“Now, I know what you’re going to say--” Morrison started.

“Propaganda,” said Mercy, “You want to put us in propaganda.”

“You’re already in propaganda,” said Sojourn, flatly.

“This is propaganda aimed at children!” said Mercy.

“Do you know how young Talon is recruiting?” said Sojourn.

“That doesn’t mean we should stoop to their level!” said Mercy.

“Wars aren’t just won by strategy and firepower, they’re also won by ideology, by public support,” Winston suggested.

Mercy remembered something Moira said and it sent a shiver down her spine. 

The true struggle is for the superiority of ideas.

“Thank you, Winston,” said Jack, “It’s not necessarily about convincing them to join, it’s about convincing people that we have their best interests in mind. Which...” Jack gestured, “We do.”

“Those bad guys didn’t look like Talon,” said Genji.

“Oh, it wasn’t Talon!” said Tracer excitedly, before dropping into a dramatic narrator voice, “Underhand is a Ruthless Criminal Organization determined to rule the world!”

“Uh--Underhand?” said Winston. Jack said nothing but somehow managed to look more dead inside.

“...Overwatch and Underhand...” Mercy repeated incredulously.

“So--we’re going to be in a cartoon?” said Genji. For some reason, his armor seemed to feel tighter, pinching, constricting around him.

“Well, we did some polling after the Doomfist fight and ran some algorithms through a handful of popular forums and social media,” Sojourn explained, “It turns out you’re all very popular with the younger crowd. Winston and Tracer pull the biggest numbers, but you, Genji, are incredibly popular with boys aged 6 to 14.”

“I...I am?” said Genji.

“Shining armor,” said Mercy, smiling at him, and steam vented from his shoulders.

“And Mercy has a death-grip on the ‘Girls aged 3 to 11′ demographic,” said Sojourn.

“So... more girls are getting into STEM?” said Mercy.

“I’m.. not sure about that, but they seem to really like the fact that you’re pretty and you can fly,” said Sojourn, flipping through the report on her own tablet. 

Mercy’s face dropped and she shook her head. She pursed her lips and thought for a few moments. “I’m not sure about this...”

“If we’re all over the news already, it could help to put stuff out there that gives us more control over our image,” said Winston, he scratched the side of his head, “It... would be nice to show people I’m more than just a gorilla...”

“Genji?” said Mercy, looking over at him. Genji was running his thumb over the knuckles of his prosthetic hand and he seemed to snap out of some particularly stressful train of thought.

“Oh...um... well... it would give you a chance to talk more about Overwatch as a peacekeeping organization?” said Genji, “And if you’re talking about it to children...” 

“They might be less inclined to carry on the conflicts of previous generations!” said Mercy, her eyes brightening.

“Like we said, ideologies,” said Jack.

Mercy inhaled thoughtfully. “If--if we’re going to do this, I want my likeness used responsibly. I don’t want to advocate for violence in any form.”

“...yeah I figured you’d say that,” said Jack.

“And, even if we’re going through fictional conflicts, I don’t want it... glamorized and sensationalized like the old cartoon. We don’t need all those explosions---”

“You did pull Genji out of that explosion a few weeks ago though,” said Tracer.

“Well that’s different--! That’s--!” Mercy huffed, “I think we should push more of Overwatch’s scientific and humanitarian efforts. Show that making the world a better place is more complicated than just.. shooting at bad guys.”

“We could have a science corner!” Winston chimed in, “’Winston’s Science Corner!’”

“Ooh! And maybe I should say something about friendship and teamwork at the end!” said Tracer.

Genji was shrinking a little where he was sitting, unconsciously sliding his wrist plate back and forth.

“What do you think? Edu-tainment?” said Sojourn, glancing back at Jack.

“Could go over easier than a purely fictionalized narrative,” murmured Jack.

“Aw, I wanna fight Underhand, though!” said Tracer.

“Well in any case, you can expect more correspondence from our PR department as we move forward in this project,” said Sojourn. 

“You might not be fighting Talon in some far-flung corner of the world, but make no mistake: this is an important part of the fight,” said Jack.

“And who knows,” said Sojourn as an assistant hurried in with a cardboard box and set it on the conference table, “You could end up some kid’s best friend.”

Tracer and her strike team all stood up from their seats to look into the box.

“Oh commander...!” Tracer looked about to burst with excitement as she reached into the box and pulled out an action figure of herself, “I love it!” She turned over the action figure in her hands and saw a button on the back. She pressed it.

“Cheers love! The Cavalry’s here!” said the Tracer action figure.

“That’s my line!” said Tracer, delighted.

“It’s quite a stunning likeness,” said Winston, taking his own action figure out of the box. He pressed a button on the back of his action figure. 

“Primal Punch!” declared the Winston action figure and Winston chuckled.

Mercy took both the Genji and the Mercy action figures out of the box and chuckled a little. 

“Yours is so pretty, Doc! They even got the wings!” said Tracer as Mercy fiddled around with the action figure’s wings.

“Yes, ‘pretty and flies’ indeed.’ I might be more inclined if she comes with a lab coat accessory,” said Mercy, giving a skeptical glance to her action figure’s bust size. She pressed a button between her action figure’s wings and scoffed a little as the action figure said, “Heroes never die!” 

She held Genji’s action figure out to him and he hesitantly took it. “What do you think?”

Genji turned the action figure over in his hand and looked at the button on the back. He pressed it, but the figure said nothing.

“Oh we um... didn’t really have a ‘catchphrase’ for you yet,” said Sojourn as Genji gingerly ran the finger of his prosthetic hand up the blade of the action figure’s sword clasped in his little plastic hand, “We were hoping you could put in a word for it. These are just mock-ups, really.” 

You’re incredibly popular with boys age 6 to 14...

Genji moved the arm of the action figure up and down, the figure striking downward with its sword, and he thought of young boys playing with this miniature him. Running with the action figure clutched in little hands with white knuckles, playing out battles, having the action figure swing its sword at all those foes, imitating his own swordsmanship, fighting their brothers with sticks, punching each other, kicking each other---

“No,” Genji said on reflex.

“What?” said Sojourn, glancing up from Tracer chattering about her own action figure.

��I--I said no. I shouldn’t have an action figure. I shouldn’t be in the show,” said Genji. His voice was tight.

“Genji...” Mercy started.

“...is it about how you look?” said Sojourn, “Because Genji, I can tell you, seeing people like us on the screen means the world to kids with prosthetics---”

“No--” Genji was stammering, “It’s not about that, it’s--”

“Genji, you’re a part of the team,” Tracer tried to reassure him, “It wouldn’t be the same without you--”

“Children shouldn’t want to be like me!” Genji blurted out, and there was a small plasticky snap. Genji glanced down and saw that he had unthinkingly broken the arm off of his own action figure. The entire room had gone silent, staring at him. He set both the action figure and its broken-off arm on the table and exhaled. “I’m-- I need to think about it,” he said, pushing up from the table and walking briskly out of the room.

“Genji, wait--” said Mercy, standing up. Her eyes flicked to the broken Genji action figure on the table and she picked it up, tucking both the figure and the broken off arm in the pocket of her lab coat. The door slid shut behind Genji but she quickly walked after him, leaving Morrison, Sojourn, Tracer, and Winston alone in the room. A long quiet pause passed between the four of them.

“Maybe just web shorts?” said Winston, “Just.. um... just the science corner?”

“Winston--” Tracer huffed.

“Right--sorry,” said Winston.

“...well, they did keep an open mind,” said Jack, “Mostly.”

“Don’t make me break out your action figure, Jack,” said Sojourn.

----

It was a known fact that if you broke visual contact on Genji, you had a pretty low probability of finding him again unless he wanted to be found. Still Mercy spent more of the remainder of the afternoon looking for him than she was readily willing to admit. The fact that he was able to disappear from the hallway that quickly made her assume he had taken the window (very mature, by the way, Genji, she thought with an eye roll) but she checked all of his usual spots and even went to his room before finally huffing and returning to her lab.

It was about 11 at night when the door slid open.

“Genji, we’re beholden to the UN. I know that was an uncomfortable situation, but... there are still protocols,” said Mercy, not even looking up from her screen.

“I know,” his cybernetically reverberative voice hummed from the other side of the room.

“I don’t know how... informally Reyes maintained his meetings, but we can’t--” Mercy looked up from her screen and read his posture and expression. Her shoulders slumped. She pushed up from her desk and walked across the lab over to him.

“I’m sorry, I know. I just shut down,” said Genji as she closed the distance between them, “I don’t even know where it came from, ever since I joined Tracer’s strike team, I thought I’ve been getting better but--” he cut himself off as she hugged him. He stood there for a few seconds before returning the embrace. A part of him wanted to take his faceplate off, breathe in the smell of her hair and the smell of coffee on her, but he tamped that down. They had embraced before, after Gérard Lacroix’s death, and had broken out of it, both of them muttering about it being inappropriate and messy, but after missions together on Tracer’s strike team, there was no such shame in taking comfort in each other like this. She loosened the hug slightly to look at him.

“What you said... about you and children...”  she trailed off.

“I...” Genji sighed, “I’m an assassin.”

“You’re an agent,” said Mercy.

“Whose skills all come from the fact that he was raised to be an assassin,” said Genji, “What I went through as a child---I don’t want another child to go through it. And I don’t want children to think that’s what they want because it’s not.”

“They won’t have to,” said Mercy, putting her hands on his shoulders, “The Shimada Clan’s practically collapsed! You get to decide who you are, not them! You get to choose what you do with your skills,” one of her hands trailed down his arm and clasped his organic hand, “And you choose good. You’ve been choosing to do good.”

“...kids shouldn’t want to be like me when I don’t even know what the hell I am,” muttered Genji.

Mercy gave a helpless chuckle, “Join the club. ‘Mercy’ is easier to be than Angela. People listen to ‘Mercy,’ except not really, because she’s just pretty and she flies and at the end of the day, she’s just a bloody idea, so no one actually listens to her because she’s not real---”  she caught herself, “God, they’re really going to turn us into cartoon characters, aren’t they?” she said, pushing her bangs back from her face, “As if things weren’t already weird enough.”

“Cyborg ninja. Angel doctor. Time traveler. Gorilla from the moon. It really makes no difference at this point,” said Genji with a shrug, looking over her shoulder, he noticed a small figure on her desk. “Is that---?” he broke out of the embrace and walked over to the desk to see his action figure standing there. The arm had been glued back on, the seam of the break barely visible. He picked up the action figure. “You fixed me? It--It-- I mean it. You fixed it?” he said glancing over his shoulder at her.

“Well I couldn’t just leave you like that,” said Mercy, chuckling a little. 

“’You’ve rescued me again, Doctor Ziegler!’” said Genji, making the action figure bob with his words. They both snickered. “Maybe that can be my catchphrase,” said Genji, a smirk in his voice.

“Absolutely not,” said Mercy, giggling.

#gency

[all-the-love-harold]

Chapter 11- Hang in there, Baby

Master Post 

August 15th 2021 

 Emily 31 Weeks 

Poppy 27 Weeks 

 The summer sun shone brightly through the bedroom curtains as Poppy’s eyes flashed open.  A sharp pain in her back had jolted her out of a deep sleep. The pain subsided and she gently rolled over to check the time on her phone, 6:36am. Oli would be awake soon so  there wasn’t much point in trying to go back to sleep. She sat up a little, wincing at the pain in her back that was more of a dull ache now and her movements awoke Harry. 

 “ ‘s the time?” he groaned, still groggy with sleep. “It’s almost twenty to 7,” Poppy whispered. “And Oli’s still asleep so shhhh!” she hushed. 

Harry rolled over so that he could see Poppy and placed his hand gently on the swell of her belly, “and how’s our little girl?” he asked softly, smiling as he always did when he talked about his daughter. 

“I think she’s still sleeping too, had her mother up at 3am kicking like a mad woman!” 

“No doubt she’s your daughter then,” Harry laughed 

“I don’t kick in my sleep,” Poppy said, sounding very sure of herself, arms crossed over her chest in defense.

“Yes, you do” he sighed, still laughing, resting his head on her chest “but it’s ok because I love you anyway.” 

“I love yo-”  Suddenly Poppy stopped talking  and inhaled sharply, grabbing onto her back as another sharp pain  hit her like a tonne of bricks.

 “Are you OK?” Harry asked, sitting up properly now, his eyes narrowing as he watched her.

Poppy didn’t answer until the pain subsided into a dull ache again, “Yeah,” she nodded,  I’m fine, it’s just my back...” 

“Roll over, I’ll give you a massage.” 

She groaned a little as she turned onto her side, careful not to land on her pregnant belly. 

“Where’s it sore?” Harry’s hands hovered over her back.Poppy pointed to her lower back “Near my bum.” 

Harry began massaging the spot where she had pointed and it instantly started to feel better. But before it had the chance to really help, Oli toddled through the door. 

“Are we still having a baby party today Mum?” He asked, sliding into the bed next to her, ignoring everything else going on around him as though this question was the most important thing in the world right now.

“We are buddy, not until lunchtime though”... 

“But the baby’s not coming today?” 

“No, not today Ol, not for a while yet” Harry said, continuing to massage Poppy’s back, while also dropping a good morning kiss to his son’s forehead. “Is Emily’s baby coming today then?” he asked 

“No, still another few weeks until Emily’s baby is here too.” 

Oli sighed deeply, “I’m never gonna be a big brother!” he huffed dramatically, folding his arms over his chest, in an image of his mother about ten minutes earlier.

Harry and Poppy both giggled, which only sent another shooting pain up Poppy’s back. Harry felt her wince, the muscles seizing under his hands.

“Why don’t you go and have a hot bath, love? I’ll get Oli breakfast, come on mate.” 

As much as she wanted to say no and have breakfast together which was their tradition whenever Harry was home,  all she could really think about was how soothing the hot water would be rushing over her back so she nodded and pulled the covers back. 

“Oli, why don’t you go on Daddy’s side, so Mum can get out of bed?” 

Sometimes Poppy forgot that Oli was only four and didn’t think about things logically so instead of climbing out of bed and walking around to cuddle his dad, he rolled over his mother, making her groan in pain. 

“Oliver,” Harry said sternly, “Next time, please walk around, remember there’s a baby in Mummy's tummy, you need to be gentle with her...” 

“Sorry, daddy,” he sighed 

 Poppy tuned them out, focusing on her breathing to try and stop the pain in her back as she walked to the bathroom and turned on the hot water. She knew what this could be and she wasn’t willing to accept that possibility yet…

  The steaming hot water washed over her and her body felt lighter and less painful. The baby must have felt it too because she started kicking as soon as the water covered Poppy’s belly. 

“You can’t do this today, miss” Poppy breathed, trying to keep her voice calm,  hands on her belly. “You’ve got to stay in there for a few more weeks yet. Okay?..... I can’t have another Violet.” 

 ***

 Whatever Poppy did that morning must have helped because by the time everyone arrived for the baby shower, her back was feeling better, which she was unbelievably thankful for. This shower meant a lot to her, and to Em, who had invited her entire family. It was a little chaotic with everyone there, Em’s brother had a son the same age as Oli and the two of them were running around like mad men, not at all bothered by all the baby related games that were going on in the garden. 

“So... you got my baby sister pregnant?” Emily’s brother said to Harry as they both poured themselves a drink.

“Ahhh,” Harry laughed nervously “I guess I did…. Technically” 

“Sorry,” the brother giggled, “I’ve always wanted to say that - I’m Peter.” 

“Harry,” he held out his hand to shake Peter’s. 

“I know,” Peter said, “My husband is a big fan!” 

Harry couldn’t help but smile, “Sorry?” he said in a sarcastic tone .“No need,” Peter shook his head, “I’m a fan too,  even more so since I heard how wonderful you’ve been to Em through this whole thing.” 

“How could I not be?” Harry shrugged “She’s doing the most incredible thing for us and she's so graceful about it all!” 

“She always has been, has she told you that surrogacy is how we had our little Henry?” 

“She has,” Harry nodded “She told us that from the start, she said that’s why she wanted to do it.” 

“We never did anything like this for our surrogate, she’s had no contact with us since actually... I don’t want that for Em, I want her to see this little boy grow up.” 

“Em will always be a part of this family” Harry said “As long as she wants to be, everything here is on her terms.” 

“You and Poppy are good people,” Peter nodded. “I have to admit though, when Em told me that Poppy fell pregnant, I was worried that you two were in this for the wrong reasons and I told her to be careful, but you’ve really proven me wrong. Thank you.” 

“We didn’t know,” Harry sighed “When Poppy fell pregnant we didn’t know that we’d get to 27 weeks. We still don’t know how far we’ll get, we’re terrified all the time, but Em makes it easier, she keeps us focused on what we have right now, which is two babies and Oli.” 

“You’ve got a very sleepless few months ahead of you,” Peter said, feeling a little awkward 

“That we do,” Harry giggled. 

 On the other side of the garden, Poppy sat with Anne, Emily and her mum, Patricia, comparing pregnancy notes. 

“When I was having Gemma, all I wanted was mash potato, I ate bucketloads of it...” Anne said when the topic of cravings came up 

“Me too!” Em said, “My best friend makes the best mash, it’s so creamy. Shit. Now that’s all I can think about..”

“All I want is Vegemite,” Poppy said. “Harry’s perfected the art of Vegemite on toast this time around!” 

“I tried that once,” said Patricia, “It’s awful stuff, I don’t know how you eat it.” 

Poppy shrugged, “It’s an acquired taste, I’ve eaten it since I was a baby, so has Oli and he loves it too.” 

“All I wanted when I was having Pete was feta cheese, I ate so much of the stuff and now Em tells me that you’re not supposed to eat soft cheeses! Explains a lot about Pete now that I think about it, actually,” she laughed teasingly.

“It’s just what they recommend, Mum,” Em said. “Soft cheeses can contain the listeria bacteria - there’s a very small chance they can make you sick, and to avoid harming the baby, they say not to eat it at all.” 

“It pays to have an OB/GYN student around when you’re having a baby,” Poppy smiled. “Especially when she’s having a baby too!” 

“Speaking of,” Emily smiled, placing her hand on her belly, “Your little boy has been kicking like a mad man today!” 

“So has his sister,” Poppy giggled “feels like she’s doing backflips in there.” 

“They’re going to be such good friends,” Anne said, a wide smile stretched across her face. “I wonder if they’ll have that twin telepathy thing...” 

“They’re not twins,” Poppy said teasingly with a half smile stretched across her face.

“Let’s just wait and see,” Anne said, not giving up on the idea. 

“Alright”, Gemma clapped getting everyone’s attention and drawing the conversation away from twin telepathy. “it’s party game time, I need everyone to come over here, we’re about to name a baby!” 

The whole party gathered around the table that Gemma had set up, that was covered in onesies to decorate, a jar full of name suggestions, and some baby themed cupcakes and biscuits.

“Harry, Pop and Em, you get to sit here, right in front of everyone and take these red and green paddles. if you like the name, show us the green side, if you don’t, show us the red. You’re adults you probably could have worked that out for yourselves but anyway...” Gemma laughed 

“Thanks Gem,” Harry said sarcastically as he sat down where he was told to

 “Hey, it’s not my fault you can’t name your own child!” 

“We’ve named one of them...” Poppy said defensively.  

“You have,” Gemma said, “which brings me to the point that these are girls names only, since Baby Boy has been named.” 

 The pain in Poppy’s back returned, sharper than ever just as she sat down. She winced, while she waited for it to subside again, and tuned the rest of the conversation out.

  Breathe. 

That’s all she had to do right now. 

A few big breaths and it will all go away.

  But it didn’t and when Gemma started rambling about the ridiculous names that everyone had put in the jar, Poppy took the opportunity to tell Harry. 

“Harry,” she whispered leaning over so that only he could hear, “I think I need to go to the hospital...” 

His eyes widened, “What’s wrong?” 

“I think the back pain is contractions.” 

He nodded,  already springing into action -“Are we being subtle about leaving? Or are we just going?”

“I think we just need to go” Poppy said breathlessly, another wave of pain taking over her body. 

Harry stood up and laughed nervously, as everyone stopped talking and looked at him. “Poppy might be in labour...” he announced running his fingers through his hair “We’re going to go to the hospital.” 

At that moment everyone ran over to crowd Poppy, which only made her feel worse. 

“Are you having contractions?” Emily asked

“Back pain,” Poppy said through gritted teeth “it’s sharp and it comes and goes every few minutes.” 

“That sounds like early labour,” Em nodded “Have you had any bleeding?”

“No,” Poppy shook her head.

“That’s good,” Em smiled “That means your mucus plug is still ok.”

Peter and his husband scrunched their noses at the thought of a mucus plug. 

“What does that mean?” Anne asked, voice filled with concern.

“It means the doctors have a better chance of stopping it. “Ok we should go then,” Harry said immediately. 

 London traffic had never felt slower. They were barely out of their street before they were stopped and it took them five minutes to get to the main road that led to the hospital, which usually only took them 2. Poppy took the extra time to call their doctor and let her know that they were going to the hospital but even after that they were still 10 minutes away.

 “Harry,” Poppy sighed. “I’m scared,”  her voice broke a little as she admitted how she was feeling. 

“Me too, Pop.” He grabbed onto her hand and squeezed it tight before bringing it up to his lips and placing a gentle kiss to it, “We’re going to be ok Pop.” 

“She doesn’t even have a name yet!”

“She doesn’t need one,” Harry said optimiscally. “Her due date isn’t for another three months.” 

“Harry, I don’t carry babies to term, her due date could very well be today!” 

“They stopped it with Oli”, Harry said, turning his head towards her. “There’s nothing to say they won’t be able to stop it this time.” 

“I was 28 weeks with Oli”, she sighed “I’m only 27 this time.” 

“28 tomorrow,” Harry added, 

“One day does make a difference H”. 

“I know it does”, he sighed “But I’m trying to stop myself from thinking about what might happen if she arrives today. Let’s try and stay positive until we know more, ok?” 

“OK.” Poppy nodded, that’s what she loved the most about Harry. He always looked at the bright side, sometimes to a fault, but today he was right, there was a chance that their little girl might arrive today, but there was an equal chance that she wouldn’t, and why not focus on that?

 They pulled into the hospital driveway and Harry headed straight for the underground parking. 

“Wait,” he said just before he got a ticket “are you going to be able to walk there if I park down here? Or do you want me to park near the entrance?” 

“Harry’s it’s 1pm,” Poppy said reasonably, “There won’t be any parking up there, I’ll be fine to walk.” 

“I can go up and get you a wheelchair,” he said, driving the car down the ramp 

“I can walk H, I just want to get in there.” 

“OK,” he said calmly, pulling into a free space and turning the car off. “Let’s go then.” 

 They entered A&E to chaos. The waiting room was filled with ill and injured people and Poppy felt a bit out of place until another wave of pain took over her while they waited in the queue to check in. 

She squeezed Harry’s hand in an attempt to ease the pain and he asked her if she needed to sit down

“No, I’m OK,” she said, gritting her teeth, “I  just want to talk to the nurse.” 

 “What brings you to A&E today my dear?” The nurse asked as they stepped up to the counter 

“I think I’m in labour...”  Poppy said 

“How far along are you?” 

“27 Weeks” 

The nurse waved nonchalantly, “It’s probably just Braxton Hicks contractions dear, go home and rest”.

Poppy took a deep breath, not caring as her voice rose in volume, “This is a high risk pregnancy, I went into labour early with my son, and I lost a baby from early labour last year. This is not Braxton Hicks!”

The nurse looked stunned “OK. I’ll call the maternity ward and have one of the midwives come down and assess you. Take a seat.” 

 “Old Cow,” Poppy muttered to Harry as they took their seats. Harry giggled, “hey hey hey, treat people with kindness now Pop.” “I will when I’m not in labour” she half laughed and half winced at the pain of another contraction. 

 They didn’t have to wait long, only 10 minutes passed before a midwife came rushing in calling Poppy’s name. They were taken into one of the small examination rooms in A&E to be assessed before they could be admitted to the maternity ward. “How long ago did the pain start?” 

“I had a dull ache in my back yesterday afternoon and this morning it turned it to sharp pains every so often,” Poppy said 

“And have your waters broken?” 

“No,” Poppy shook her head 

“Good,” the midwife replied with a smile “any bleeding?”

“No.” 

“Great,” she was taking notes on her clipboard 

“Did you bring your pregnancy notes with you?” 

Poppy looked towards Harry who had been holding them under his armpit the whole time. 

“They’re here,” he said handing them to the midwife, who blushed when he smiled at her. 

“So this isn’t the first time you’ve gone into labour in the second trimester?” 

“No,” Poppy shook her head “It’s the third...” 

“OK, well we’ll do a quick exam, see where your cervix is at and go from there, but I’d say given your history we’ll be admitting you. I’ll get you a gown so we can go ahead,” the midwife left the room

“She doesn’t seem too worried,” Harry said 

“She doesn’t seem not worried,” Poppy countered. “She thinks I am in labour.” 

“We knew that though,” Harry placed a kiss on Poppy’s forehead “I think we’re here early enough to stop it.” 

“I hope -” 

The midwife walked back in and handed Poppy the gown -  “Put this on and lay down on that bed just there. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Dad you can stay or if you’re squeamish you can go back out to the waiting room.” 

“I’ve seen it all before,” Harry smiled referring to the examination that was about to happen although he was sure the midwife thought he meant something else because she started blushing again as she walked out of the room. 

“Someone’s got a secret admirer!” Poppy said as she unbuttoned her jeans 

“It’s not very secret,” Harry added 

“Either she’s in love with you, or she’s feeling weird about having to look at Harry Styles wife’s vagina!” 

“Maybe both,” he shrugged. 

Poppy pulled the gown on and laid down on the table like she was asked and a knock came on the door, right on cue. Harry sat down in the chair next to Poppy head and grabbed hold of her hand. 

“Alright, I’ll make this quick,” the midwife said, pulling on a pair of gloves as Poppy winced her way through another contraction. Poppy hated this part, not only was it uncomfortable, but for the next few minutes she didn’t know what was going to happen. Maybe it was just Braxton Hicks contractions and everything was going to be ok, or maybe she’d meet her baby girl today and spend the next few months in the hospital with her.

  Or maybe they’d also be saying goodbye to their little girl today. 

 “You’re only 1cm dilated,” the midwife finally said after what felt like hours. “Normally I’d send you home and tell you to come back if the pain gets worse, but given your history, I’ll admit you and we’ll do a few more tests and go from there. We’ll also give your doctor a call and let her know you’re here.” 

 An hour later they found themselves in a private room in the maternity ward. An ultrasound had shown the baby had dropped into the right position for birth, and now the shape of Poppy’s uterus was affecting her growth. Now they were nervously waiting for Dr Marshall to come in and tell them that she could somehow work some magic and fix the problem. They waited in silence. Poppy stared at the wall wondering what on earth could have made this happen and Harry sat on his phone, texting Anne and Gemma. 

 H: Poppy has been admitted, baby girl has dropped, waiting to see the doctor for more info. How is Oli?” 

 A: Praying for good news xxx. Oli is OK, he keeps asking where you went… What should I tell him? 

 G: Has anyone told Addie yet?

 H: You can tell Oli that we’ve come to the hospital to make sure the baby is ok, and I’ll be home with him as soon as I can. We haven’t told Addie yet, I’ll wait until we know a bit more, don’t want her thinking she needs to jump on a train from Bath if everything is ok.

A: Good idea. Em and her family left about half an hour ago, they said to let them know if you need anything.

 H: They’re very sweet, I’ll send Em a message and let her know what’s going on. I’ll try and be home for Oli’s bedtime and then I’ll come back to stay here with Pop

 Dr Marshall was surprisingly fast, Harry and Poppy had been expecting her to take hours, but it was only about 20 minutes after they got to their room that she popped her head around the corner. 

“How are we doing?, she asked, picking up Poppy’s chart. “contractions every 10 minutes still?” 

“About that,” Poppy nodded .

“So what we’re going to try and do is get Baby to turn back around.” 

“How do we do that?” Poppy asked, confused. 

“Well, if you were more than 1cm dilated we’d do it the simple way, but since you’re not, we’ll try a massage on your belly, we usually do this when a baby is breach, I’ve only done it once or twice for this situation, but it’s a simple procedure, I promise.” 

“That sounds much more pleasant than the other way,” Poppy laughed nervously 

“It is,” nodded Dr Marshall with a smile.“We’re also going to give you a shot of progesterone to try and put a stop to those contractions.” 

“That sounds lovely too,” Poppy half smiled 

“And you know this means you’ll be on strict bed rest until you give birth?” Dr Marshall said sternly raising her eyebrows. 

“Do I have to stay here?” 

Dr Marshall thought for a moment “No,” she hesitated “I’ll let you go home to your little one, but I need you to promise that you’ll be taking it easy” 

“I’ll make sure of that”, Harry said a stern look falling onto his face too. 

“Good,” the doctor smiled “You’ll be here a day or two while we make sure the labour has stopped and we get Baby Girl turned around.”  

Poppy and Harry both nodded 

“I’ll order that injection now and once those contractions stop we’ll start the massage.” She put Poppy’s chart down at the end of her bed and turned to leave the room.“Thank you,” Harry and Poppy both called after her .

 Once she was gone Harry placed a kiss onto Poppy’s forehead and breathed a sigh of relief “This is good,” he said 

“I have a name” Poppy said quietly 

Harry sat down on the bed next to her “Hmm” he cooed “I’m listening” 

“Florence Anne...” 

Harry nodded. “It’s beautiful. Florence, Oscar and Oliver,” he sighed “I like it” 

“Flori, Ossie and Oli,” Poppy said. “For short.” 

“And Violet,” Harry added 

“Always.” 

#imagine #imagines #harry styles imagine #one direction imagines #blurb #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #drabble #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic #harry styles fanfiction #one direction fanfiction #writing #harry #Gemma Styles #styles #Harry Styles #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #Harry Styles Fan Fiction #harry styles x ofc #ofc imagine #harry ofc #ofc fan fiction #ofc

[nonstoplover]

Café  ~ Dave Franco

masterlist

Summary: (Y/N) loves spending her time in her favourite coffee shop, but what she’d never imagine is that one day it becomes more than just grabbing a coffee, spending time with a specific brown haired boy…

Words: 2.7K

Approximate reading time: about 10 mins

A/N: this was my first actual request, and it was so long ago i’m sure you already forgot about it, @mcrvellouslystcrk​ but i didn’t, and after this long time i’m here with the finished product. i’m sorryyyy for taking so long, i had a terrible writer’s block, but now inspiration came back and i finished it in only a couple days. hope you enjoy

The smell of freshly brewed coffee catches my nostrils as I enter the small, indie-themed café. I take a deep breath happily like a real coffee addict when I feel the familiar calmness spread through my veins because of the oh-so-loved smell.

I look around, gladly noticing that my favourite table at the back of the room, next to the furthest window is left free, as if it’s waiting only for me.

I quickly walk towards the wooden furniture, placing my coat and scarf on one of the chairs as a signal that it’s taken before stepping to the counter to ask for the coffee I always order.

The girl behind the counter only glances up and she already recognises me, a smile appears on her face as she moves to start making a coffee for me.

“The same as usual, am I right? How are you today?”

“Yes, exactly. I’m great, thank you, a little tired.” I answer, smiling back at her.

“I’m glad you’re feeling great.” She beams up at me, pausing for a moment before speaking up again, finishing up the final touches on my order. “Let me tell you this one thing though, today has been absolutely crazy. So many people came in, even a couple celebrities!”

“Oh, really? I haven’t seen anyone.” I quickly look around to see if there is anyone famous around, but don’t catch sight of anyone except the bored businessmen and hippie-looking writers typing away on their laptops.

“It’s quite a surprise that your table stayed free to be honest. Some movie is being shot near here, all the crew and staff comes to take a drink. Which is of course great, because the more orders, the more money, and also you can meet a lot of famous people, but you know, I can’t take a rest if there are so many people…” She hands me the familiar reusable paper cup. “But enough of my ranting, have a nice time here as usual and enjoy your drink.”

I stroll back to my table, sitting down. A happy sigh escapes past my lips as I finally taste the hot beverage on my tongue, and I quickly reach in my bag with my free hand to take my book out. It almost opens up by itself at the page I finished reading the last time due to having been read a few times already.

Calmness spreads all over me again right away, making me forget all my problems and nervousness as I take in the words from the lovely smelled pages.

Not many minutes later out of nowhere I hear a gentle cough from above my head as the shadow of a body appears in the corner of my eyes, standing next to me. I look up to see a man with a cup similar to mine in his hand, mouth smiling down at me but his eyes stay hidden behind a pair of sunglasses.

“Hello. Sorry for disturbing, is this seat taken?”

“Oh, no, it’s not, feel free to sit down.” I’m quick to reply, pulling my things closer to me on the wooden surface to free up more space on it.

“Thank you,” he smiles and as he sits down, a strange feeling comes over me. I know this man. “I’m Dave by the way.”

And all of a sudden I know why he seemed so familiar.

He’s Dave Franco. The Dave Franco. I’m sitting at the same table with Dave Franco.

These thoughts run through my mind swiftly, his name repeated every other second as a wave of recognition hits me, but I’m quick to re-gain composure and half-recover from the shock I’m feeling and I try to act like I don’t know who he is.

“Ah, I’m… I’m (Y/N).”

“Beautiful name,” he announces before taking a sip of his drink. “Mmm, it tastes absolutely fantastic.”

“Yeah, this place is the best in town.” I slowly drink from mine as a shy smile spreads across my face.

“You come here often?”

“Yes, once a week. I used to come here almost every day but I realised that I’m going to spend all my money here and soon I’ll gain more weight than I’d want to, so I reduced the number of my visits to only once in a week. It’s my happy place. Here I can calm down whenever I need to,” I speak, words flying out my mouth rapidly. “Ugh, sorry, I’m rambling about my nonsense to a stranger.”

“Please, don’t apologize, I’m interested,” he smiles my way before lowering his head, eyes probably noticing the book laying in front of me. “What are you reading?”

Oh, well, that’s it. You can’t hide it anymore. He’s gonna find out that you know him.

“Nerve. I saw the film adaptation a while back and loved it so much that I decided to read it,” I mumble, staring right at the mentioned book, not being able to look up at his face.

A few second long silence comes as an answer and I glance up to see the blush creeping up his cheeks as he processes my words.

“So you’ve seen the movie, eh?” He finally says, voice a bit raspy before clearing his throat.

“Yeah.” I can’t tell which one of us is more embarrassed and flushed red at the moment, but I can’t take it after a while and look back down at my hands resting on the table.

“Then you know who I…” his voice gets more and more quiet as he speaks, slowly dying off, as he’s not being able to finish the sentence he has started.

“Yep, I know who you are, Dave Franco. I admire your work actually,” I say quietly, making sure no one else around us hears my words, my eyes still casted on my hands.

Only a couple seconds later I get the courage finally to raise my head up and look at his face, somewhere where his eyes are probably situated behind the sunglasses, and I’m trying hard to calm down, or to at least look like I’m calm from his point of view when in reality inside my chest my heart seems to burst with excitement.

“Oh,” is his only response.

“You alright?” I ask as he starts uncomfortably shifting. Did I say something I shouldn’t have?

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I’m just a bit… surprised,” he pauses in the middle of his sentence, probably searching for the right word.

“Surprised?” I cock an eyebrow at him in confusion.

“I’m not used to get this reaction from girls who know who I am.”

Then probably my trying has succeeded and I do look like I’m calm.

“Well, you know, it doesn’t have such a huge impact on me. I’ve met with other huge celebrities in my life.”

He clears his throat, seeming even more uncomfortable by now.

“I’m only joking. I’ve never met any famous people before actually,” I chuckle after seeing his expression.

“Oh. Oh!” Dave kinda exclaims in realization. “Then how are you so calm?”

“I’m not.” I admit with a blush appearing on my face.

“Then you’re a great actor,” he smiles before moving to take another sip of his drink.

“I don’t think so, but I have to admit that it feels nice to hear this coming from an already proven to be amazing actor.”

Now it’s his time to blush. He shakes his head before an adorable giggle rolls out from his mouth.

“What?” I laugh. “It’s not like you didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, but I can’t get used to hearing it from a random pretty girl I just met at a random café.” Dave looks at me, his eyebrows half raised, appearing from behind the sunglasses.

Hearing those words I can’t keep looking at him and turn my gaze away. I stare into my cup, watching intently how the steam slowly flies up, out of the brown coloured beverage.

“So, (Y/N). What do you do? Work? College?” Dave speaks up again and I take a deep breath before looking back up, only to see that he has lowered the accessory sitting on his nose, and he’s now watching me curiously with nothing in the way of his set of lovely, brown eyes.

“So, David. I’m a uni student at the moment but I’m also working. So technically both.” I keep a straight face on, a kind of challenging one to be exact.

“What do you study?”

“Psychology.” I answer, and he freezes for a moment, his eyes gleaming with interest before probably deciding on to simply continue interviewing me.

“What do you work?”

“I’m a waitress.”

“Oh, nice. Where?” Dave nods.

“A nearby restaurant.”

“I see, you pretty much like this neighbourhood.”

“You don’t even know it all.” I chuckle. He’s just about to speak up again when I lean closer and as a top secret I whisper the answer to the question I know he’s just about to ask. “I even live in this neighbourhood.”

“No way.” Dave gasps, leaning in above the table like me.

I nod, glancing around to see if anyone else heard what I said, staying in character the whole time. When I look back into his light brown orbs, he breathes out a quiet ‘why’ and I can feel the air coming out past his lips on the skin of my face.

Suddenly I’m more than aware of the fact that we’re only a few mere centimetres away from each other’s face.

A shiver runs down my spine and then moves through my whole body as Dave leans back in his seat and starts laughing.

“I actually still believe that you would be a terrifically awesome actress.”

“Well, thank you.”

“Wow, no resistance? Where’s the girl I got to know a few minutes ago? All rebel and stuff.”

Laughter takes control over me as I watch, well actually almost admire his whole presence as he sips from his cup again, his eyes never leaving me, even for a second.

“After this improvised scene we just did I think I see what you mean,” I shrug when my laughter finally quietens.

“Maybe I should introduce you to my manager. You know, to see if you’d get a role in something.”

“I’m pretty sure I would get the leading role in any movie without making a real effort.” I smirk.

“Can I be honest with you?” Dave all of a sudden leans forward again, a serious expression spreading across his cheeks. I nod curiously and he continues. “I miss the old shy (Y/N). I don’t like this sarcastic, cocky new version.”   I burst out laughing, so hard that I have to grab at my sides as it starts to hurt, quickly losing my breath. People sitting around us cast curious or even irritated glances towards me, but I can’t help it and I keep on laughing.

A few minutes pass by with only my laughter and other various background noises filling up the air before I try to calm myself down. After taking a few deep breaths I manage to sit back up straight and look at him.

He’s watching me with something different in his eyes. Something I would describe as adoration, but that can’t be true. Why would he ever look at me like that?

“That’s what you get after getting to know me.” I speak up to divert my thoughts.

“Yeah?” He grins, the previous look in his eyes decreasing but not fully disappearing.

“Yeah. I’m usually described as a pretty sarcastic person. People also get annoyed with me quite often,” I admit, curiously waiting for his reaction.

“We have to meet more then so I can get to know you, you made me interested. Now I wanna see why people get annoyed.” Dave looks at me with a daring gleam in his eyes.

My heart stops for a second at his obviously flirty answer. Why would he want to meet me?

“We’re both quite busy people from what I can tell. How do you wanna do that?” I crook my neck, glancing up at him intrigued from the new, different angle.

“I don’t know yet. We have to figure it out.”

About half a minute passes with neither of us speaking, but the intension of our stares grows more and more as we can’t tear our gaze away, trapped in the depth of the eyes of each other.

“I was serious, I hope you know that,” Dave speaks again with his expression turning less playful. “I want to meet you again.”

A blush makes its way to my cheeks as his eyes soften, him still not taking them off me. “I’d love to meet you again, too,” I answer quietly.

“Amazing!” He grins.

Another few seconds pass in a comfortable silence, the type that’s filled with deep, maddening thinking.

“Actually, I admit, I’m still not sure why you wanna do that,” I speak my thoughts out loud. “You don’t even know who I am and if I’m crazy, like at all. Nothing.”

“I know. We only met a few minutes ago.” His eyes are still the same soft and I’m effortlessly melting in those auburn irises.

“Exactly.”

“Well, only in a few seconds you woke an interest in me. And I have this weird feeling that we could be great friends.”

Friends. So that’s what he wants. Only friends. I feel like something just hit me hard in the chest. Of course, why would he want anything more? How could I be so stupid?

“(Y/N)? (Y/N),” the concern in his voice breaks me out of the train of thoughts that goes on in my head. "Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking.”

“I have to go back to set now, but I wanted to ask for your number.”

The butterflies in my stomach start flying around again but I stop them, knowing that it’s useless. He only sees me as a friend. He only wants to be my friend.

“Oh, sure. Give me your phone.” I say, faking a smile on my face, my thoughts still swirling about how much of an idiot I feel like at the moment for thinking I could ever be more to someone like him.

Dave’s right hand is already holding the phone prepared for this, so in less than a moment he places it on the surface of the table. I grab it, typing in my number and name before pressing save and placing it back in his palm.

I’m still somewhere deep in my thoughts, not paying real attention to the situation when I notice him staring at me, clearly waiting for something.

“What?” I ask.

“Give me your phone as well. Or you don’t want my number?” Dave jokes but I can see it in his eyes that he’s truly worried about yes being the answer to his question.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” I stutter, quickly reaching into my bag to pull my phone out, unlocking it and almost throwing it in his hand because of the speed I want to do it.

“Whoa whoa whoa, slow down, I’m not in that much of a hurry,” he laughs.

I let out a nervous chuckle, trying to get away from my previous thoughts, not letting them come back.

“Okay, here you go,” he puts it down and stands up before speaking again. “Well, talk to you later.”

“You too.” I turn my head up towards him. He pushes his sunglasses back up to over his eyes before flashing a heart melting smile at me.

“Have a nice day. It was a pleasure to spend my break with you.”

“Yeah, it was pretty nice to meet you. Have fun on set.”

He nods, both our smiles matching the other’s, bright and happy, before he turns away and starts making his way towards the door. He turns back once more and while taking a few steps backwards, speaks up one last time.

“Sorry for not letting you read.”

I only chuckle, shaking my head as a signal that it’s not a problem.

The smile stays on my face the whole time while I’m drinking the last few sips of my coffee, not even touching my book again, just staring out of my head to the table in front of me.

When I finish, I quickly place all my stuff back in my bag and stand up, pulling on my jacket.

“Saw you had a nice company.” Maddy, the barista appears next to me out of nowhere, a piece of material in her hand to clean the table I was sitting at.

“You did?” I ask back, confused that she isn’t freaking out by the fact that it was indeed a famous actor.

“At least he looked pretty decent from behind,” she speaks without looking up at me, and it becomes clear to me why she’s so calm.

“Didn’t he face you at the counter though?”

“Oh yeah, really… ” Maddy pauses with a thoughtful expression on her face, then suddenly seems to remember the situation more exactly as she continues with an explanation. “He had his sunglasses on at the time, I couldn’t see his face.”

“Oh, I see.” I move my head in a nod, accepting that she didn’t recognise his face without the full view of it like I did.

“So, was he good?” She winks at me.

“Yeah, pretty handsome.” I blush, remembering how my conversation with Dave Franco turned out.

Maddy finishes cleaning and folds the cloth in her hands, smirking at me.

“I saw you exchange phone numbers, so… fill me in with the details next week.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” I giggle.

“Have a nice week!”

“You too, Maddy.” I call out while making my way towards the door and stepping out of the café.

Crisp early spring air enters my nose as soon as I close the door behind me, and I take a deep breath, enjoying the chillness that fills up my lungs in no time.

Feeling refreshened and happy I glance up at the light blue sky, squint a bit because of the sun that’s shining bright down at me, and as a joyous smile reaches across my face, I start walking away in the direction of my apartment, feeling content in my heart.

.::the end::.

Part Two here

masterlist

#dave franco #dave franco imagine #now you see me #jack wilder #nerve #nerve ian #franco #requested #imagine #café shop #coffee date #21 jump street #22 jump street

[arts-butthound]

Sense and Salarian Ability Chpt. 2

(Also read on  AO3 if you prefer, leave me a kind kudos if you like my work: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22537765/chapters/57317959#workskin )

After filing the paperwork for theft with C-sec, a week passed with no discernible action. Walking through the ward, to and from work, Lau would scan the mob of people for familiar faces. At times, he’d imagine he’d seen her, weaving through a crowd of much taller adults or disappearing into a vent. But when he’d turn to confirm the vision, she was gone with the steam and smoke of the vendors. A wisp of air passing through nothingness.  

             Lau shouldn’t have cared enough to still hunt for her. Despite the vulnerable feeling of being robbed, had he actually lost anything of value? It was a hunk of dried dirt that had escaped his grasp to make into anything. Yet he dreamed of it, vividly; the mediocre and stale curves that had taken him too long to piece together into a feeble attempt of replicating waves on the sea.  Lau had hated even looking at it. He asked himself why he still looked for its shards. He should be over this by now. A better salarian would have put the ordeal behind him. A better salarian would have given up on ineptitude and worked toward something more attainable. A respectable salarian would have…should have…

Lau’s fingers tightened around the handle of his mug.  He only half listened as his sister nattered on over the vid-com about one thing or another, adding only small confirmatory remarks if she asked for his input.  In front of him, on the table, several holo pads held shipping manifestos, bills, and requests from eager artists wishing to be displayed and sold in his gallery. None of it caught his interest, but he flipped through the paperwork to appear busy while in front of Nalano. She continued her tirade of a chore list to him and Lau turned his head toward the window, watching the blurred, colored lights of traffic whizz pass. “You’re going to be here, right Lau? Appearance is everything at events like this.”

“Yes, Ano. I’ve already made the arrangements.”  Lau took a drink of his tea, overlooking an artist’s plea for validation.  Being a turian upstart didn’t hurt, with the scarcity of the species style outside of turian space. Lau made a note to email the artist about further examples of his work.

             “Good. Zejaa will have you entertain some of our business partners. I expect you to be busy currying favors.” Since their mother had died a few years back, Lau’s boss of a sister had taken charge of their branch of the family. Wielding her feminine power with an iron will and steel forged words, she had further built their branch’s influence in clan politics. Now that their cousin was formally becoming the clan’s Dalatrass, Nalano’s power would grow tenfold. The two had been as thick as the dense jungle trees that wove around one another since childhood.

“-as is custom, I know.”  Lau droned. “Relax  Ano, things will go off without a hitch on my end.”

Nalano smiled and Lau got the feeling that if she could pet his cheek, as their mother had done when she was pleased, Nalano would have done so. “Dependable Lau. You never make trouble for me. Azik may not be able to come at all because of his partner and I still need to find a back up babyitter.” She paused for a moment with a cleansing breath. “ I’ll speak further with you another time.” Nalano hung up, leaving Lau in the abrupt silence of his dark apartment. He closed the holo-pads and stowed them in his work satchel. Standing up, he moved into the kitchen to replenish his tea, robotically.

Dependable Lau.

He decided against more tea.

Looking at the clock, Lau grabbed his satchel and gazed into the hall mirror. Clean faced, suit nearly without flaw, Lau flattened his collar with a flare of gravitas and feigned importance. He stared into his own eyes, avoiding the dark uniformity in his peripheral vision. Today was a new circle. Lau locked the front door behind him. It was a brisk, cool, walk to the Nasurn Gallery, consisting of fifteen, maybe thirty minutes on a bad day.  Lau’s focus remained on the crowds and the pavement, intent on not looking for the ghost of the duct rat that he’d never see again. It felt good to stretch his shoulders and his legs this morning.

When he walked through the back door, Lau was greeted by a hellish heat and the rhythmic and scattered ringing sound of a hammer meeting steel. Behind the wall ahead, Eramanthe cursed loudly as the ringing ceased once again. The salarian rolled his eyes as he flipped on the ceiling venting system. She always forgot about the fans on her work days.  Lau wondered if she’d been born on an arid world far off in Asari Space. Walking up behind her, he could almost see it. As a young girl, she would be a sun burnt baby-building sand castles in a desert long after she should have gone inside to her mother. She could have been a chubby little thing, running with wild abandon just to feel the sand rush in between her toes. Maybe her family went on beach trips to escape the heat by way of a breeze coming off the water. The intense temperatures hardly seemed to bother the woman.

The work shop was empty today, with the other sculptures pushed far into the walls in order to give the asari room to work. The forge burned with a blinding yellow, illuminating the massive metal behemoth beside it that had stolen Eramanthe’s sleep for weeks now. She twisted the arms of the galactic community together and in the center of their outreaching palms, Eramanthe planned to plant a miniature of the Citadel. The theme was a little predictable for Lau’s taste, but her results were worth a bit of cliché. With metal and her biotics, Eramanthe’s figures felt like they could move and breathe on their own. They had the soft bend of skin and muscle that caressed the viewer’s attention.  Of life’s soft and tender emotions, Eramanthe caste them in metal and polished them to a mirror shine.

Her sculpture still lacked a hand or two, missing the drell, turians, and vorcha. Why Eramanthe insisted on putting the vorcha in there was beyond Lau. It wasn’t as if they added anything to galactic culture. On the work bench laid the disembodied hand of the turians. “I like what you’re doing with the seams there, Era. But this looks a little aggressive compared to the others.” Lau quipped, looking at the hand from over her shoulder. She nursed a small burn on the outside of her thumb and groaned in miserable agreement.

“I think some of real life is bleeding into the piece.” Eramanthe collapsed into a nearby chair with her eyes closed and head tilted back. “Maybe I just need to…step back for a while.”

Lau moved closer to the metal hand. The iconic turian talons were uncut and vicious looking, unlike most of Eramanthe’s works in which they were trimmed with a rounded edge. The hand was flexed as if it were a predator that was about to strike. “Fighting with Cassias?” Lau mused, watching as Eramanthe ground her palms into her temples.

“I think we’re going to break up, Lau. He’s just…so….so-” Her hands flexed and clawed at the air, veins popping from the skin.

Lau inched away from Eramanthe’s rage. “Uncompromising?”

The asari sunk lower into the chair, crossing her arms and legs with sharp angry movements.  “He’s too conforming. Too restrictive! Imagine what he’d do to our girls with that kind of attitude! He’d ruin them!”

“If he lived long enough, that is.” Lau said to himself. Eramanthe shot daggers at him from her seat; her entire face looking like she’d tasted something sour. “Hey-look at me.” the curator defended, jabbing a finger into his abdominal hood. “I get to make that joke! Besides, Cassias isn’t a young man anyway. You can do better, age wise.” Lau retracted said finger as Eramanthe transferred her glare from him to the ceiling. He scratched the back of his neck, averting his eyes back to the metal hand on the table. Quietly, he said “The hand should be salvageable. You only need to loosen the fingers and cut down on the talons. It should be fine.”

Eramanthe stretched out of the seat, pushing it to its two back legs. “I want babies, Lau. I want them real bad.” She rocked back and forth on the chairs legs.  

Lau briefly ran his hand across the metal arm on the table, feeling its heat slowly ebbing out into his palm. He turned to face her, “I mean, you can get kids without keeping the father around. Isn’t that what you asari do?” Lau snickered as Eramanthe threw her balled up sweat rag at his head. It was a bull’s-eye mark, hitting Lau square in between his horns.

“Been digging up cultural weaknesses to report back to your Union, salarian?” Eramanthe grinned toothily; brows narrowed. “Or is it just for a busy-body Dalatrass?” The two smiled at one another from their opposing sides of the room, Eramanthe’s eyes a bit brighter than they were a minute ago. She was prettier when she smiled.  Lau found that glowering only made Eramanthe’s particularly round face look like a withering gourd, melting and squashing into unintelligible shapes. Yet, the way she held herself was still slumped over. She hugged herself, hands wrapped around her elbows and a clouded faraway look in her eye.

Lau placed a hand on her shoulder and returned the sweat rag to her expecting hand. “Personally, I don’t see the draw.” He said, “But you’re determined enough, Era. You’ll be putting aside all your passions and career to raise a brood of crass girls in no time.” Era shook her head, ignoring the salarian’s distaste of the idea.

             The tinkling of the bell above the door in the parlor rang and the two shared a glance. The sound of the bell was more of a whisper; like a shameful, slow outcry that begged not to be heard and hoped to go unnoticed.  Though not unheard of, it was rare for patrons or guests to come to the gallery before noon. When Lau didn’t hear the sound of the door closing behind the bell, the pores of his skin tightened around the base of his bulbous skull. His feet led him cautiously to the front room, with a straight back and stern countenance. There he saw, mirrored in the glassy flooring, two very unwelcome duct rats. They stared wide eyed at him, crouching over some foreign object on the floor. One held the door slightly ajar, just enough to slip back through without sounding the bell once again. Letting out a small growl, Lau lurched toward the girls. He wrenched the door from the asari’s hand and slammed it shut before the two could escape his grasp once again. A sickly, burning anger broiled in his belly.

“You two” Lau spat “are in very big trouble!” The human girl with the pale eyes started fidgeting spasmastically, her hands flying around her face and chest while her mouth opened and closed like a fish left out in the sun. She constantly looked back at her companion, who quaked in fear as she tried to pry the door open. The human’s hands clawed toward Lau in a beseeching manner. Her mind was slower than an elcor’s walk in the garden, it would seem, as her mouth had nothing to say but the smacking of a dry tongue. Lau watched her in disgust. The little pest who had been a blight upon him for too long did not measure up to the scheming, malicious whelp that he had pictured; but rather was a simpleton with less to offer of herself than a vorcha mercenary.

“N-no.” the human sputtered out, finally clutching and pulling at her shirt as if something were missing in her pockets. “No. I’m sorry…uh-uh-uh. Vey…” the sounds were strangled in her throat before she could get them out.

Eramanthe came into the room, looking at the two children and then meeting the fire in Lau’s eyes with the surprise inside her own. “Lock these two down, Era. I’m getting C-sec down here.” Lau ordered. He leaned his weight against the door to keep the two in and pulled up his omni-tool. The human child looked as if she were about to cry, her breathing shallow and fast.

“Wait, old man!” begged the young asari, beginning to wrestle Lau’s arm away from the fingers that threatened her freedom. “She just came to say sorry. That’s all! Don’t call the blues!”

“Lau” Era interjected slowly, gliding across the floor.

“What are you waiting for, Era? Use your biotics on these degenerates already!” the salarian ordered.

While Lau fought against the younger asari, Eramanthe’s attention was trained on the human. The girl bit at her lip and looked as if she were chastising herself, her gaze intent on trying to tell the salarian anything. When the human grasped at the small object on the floor, Eramanthe’s mouth slid up into a small smile, “Lau, hang on a sec.” With quiet panic, the human girl carefully shoved a piece of board into Lau’s chest. The girls stumbled back as he let go of the asari child, steadying each other.

It was his worthless piece Lau realized, looking at the clay turning and swirling upward from the board. It had been patched back together with cheap craft clay, nary a crack showing…despite the differing shade of color of the clay he’d used and what she’d used. There were juvenile fixes to curves and shapes that…actually worked. The edges had been softened where he had made sharp turns, not to a fantastic degree, but enough to make a difference. There were unfortunate blobs of dried glue in places-but there had been an attempt to hide them with similar clay blobs in varying places. They almost looked like bubbles-in an amateur sort of way. Lau stared at it in silence. He refused to believe that a duct rat, with no form of education outside of anything but ducking the law, could have put together the pieces so intuitively. Despite himself, the salarian found himself impressed.

“Sorry I broke it.” The little human said, drawing the attention of the two adults once more. “I tried to fix it.” She toyed with one of her fingers, not making eye contact with anyone in the room.

             Eramanthe pawed at the sculpture from around Lau’s arm. “You did a good job blurring the lines where the old material and new meet.” She drew her hand away, rubbing her fingers together. The brownish coloring had stained her skin-a sign of cheap mock clay. It smelled mostly of salt.

“You did this?” Lau sounded more like he was accusing her than asking. The girl nodded slowly, nervously. The asari child had started inching toward the now unattended door.

“What’s your name, sweetie?” Eramanthe squatted down to meet the duct rat’s eye level. She held out her hand warmly toward the girl. Lau looked at his friend as if she were crazy.

“Um…uh-Tegan” the human looked at Eramanthe’s offered hand as if she were offered credits and tentatively reached out-

Her hand was snatched out of the air by her companion, who whispered a firm “Come on.” before turning towards the adults with a tight, polite grimace. “Sorry, we gotta go now. We won’t bother you again.” She pulled the human girl with her, the two scurrying out the door before another word could be spoken. The human’s eyes caught in the glass window.

Lau passed the rest of the day in uneasy silence.  The duct rat’s appearance rattled his core, as did the sudden appearance of his failed bobble-fixed and childishly improved.  In a corner of his office, sitting on an aged couch, Eramanthe had resumed toying with the small sculpture after having called it a day on her own piece.  He only found irritation in watching her curious twists and turns and Lau’s jaw tightened until it threatened to never move again.  Lau found himself actively looking at his hand to avert his gaze from her-watching the tendons and muscles flow underneath his copper-toned skin as hands flew across his keyboard in feeble attempt of distraction. Answering these emails was always how he ended the day. But today, the hollow weight of routine threatened to crush Lau beneath it.

“You know what, Lau?” Eramanthe purred, finally setting the sculpture down in her lap. To Lau’s chagrin, she continued to pet at it absently. His head turned toward her like rusted machinery. “This is actually pretty promising now! It reminds me of some of some of your old college work that you’ve showed me-”

Lau pressed the palms of his hands to the desk, in a knee jerk reaction. “WHAT?” he hissed, “It looks absolutely nothing like my old works!”

“I mean energy wise, you angry little squit.” Eramanthe waved off his reaction. “Look at this, really I mean!” Reluctantly, Lau watched it from the corner of his eye. The form was a confusion of will and intention. It drew upon a ghost of a memory before Lau shoved it back down into the dark recesses of his mind. “There’s so much enthusiasm!” Eramanthe continued to cheer.

“It looks like its being pulled apart by different ideas of what it’s supposed to be.” Lau muttered darkly.

“Sure. But that shouldn’t bother you of all people. I mean, that kind of look helped you graduate, right?” Eramanthe’s shrug caused boulders to fall upon Lau’s spine. He stared intently at wood grain of his desk. She continued to speak but he chose to tune her out.

Pushing the chair back, Lau walked to Eramanthe and took up the sculpture, his fingers threatening to crack the wooden board. “It’s hardly even my work anymore. So it has nothing in common with what I used to do.” He opened up a cabinet, shoved the thing deep onto a shelf, and closed the door. The offensive object finally out of sight, Lau felt he could breathe again.

“Oh, squirt lube up your cloacae and loosen up, man.” Eramanthe crossed her arms and scowled. “The kid did good work.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Lau returned to his desk, resuming his evening work.

“I think she has potential worth nourishing!”

“She’s not an orphaned varren whelp, Era. Leave it be.”

“When she comes back, we should see what else she can do!”

“ERA! STOP!” Lau shouted. Her enthusiasm was too much for Lau. He collapsed back onto his chair, resting his head on the cool wood of his desk. Eramanthe was on her feet, glaring daggers at him. “Just…please.” the salarian took a deep breath, trying to clear the tight muscles in his head. “Yes. Admirable though it is that she came back, it doesn’t change what happened. Now I’d appreciate it if you let this finally drop. Period!”

             The quiet between the two hung stagnant in the air. Suffocating. Claustrophobic. The unrelenting automated clicking sounds of Lau’s haptic keypad signaled that the salarian was done talking. Eramanthe scowled as she stood, readjusting her clothes. “Okay, Lau.” She padded towards the door, her boots hanging from her shoulder on laces tied together. “I’m going home. You should too. Sleep off that attitude, maybe.”

Alone again. Lau hung his head in his hands, clicking off from his emails. What a disaster.

#butthound writes #salarian #salarians #mass effect 1 #mass effect #asari #turian #fanfiction #salarian oc #SASA