#i put him in a box and rattle him around for fun

[housemdork]

so. i know that fighting on the wilson defense squad is a little taboo around here...but i still want to share the germ of a thought that i've had, which i'll definitely expand on in the future.

does anyone hear me when i say that so much of wilson's work is silent and unseen?

i mean this, first, quite literally regarding his practice. it's a rarity, seeing wilson interact directly with his cancer patients without being called in for a consult. we hear about his patients all the time, just not often by name. but whether because we're in house's POV, or because the show aligns with house's belief that "cancer is boring," we don't see wilson practicing oncology that much in the grand scheme of things, even compared to the snippets of ER and surgery life that cameron and chase move on to, respectively.

house pokes fun at wilson's oncology all the time, and pretty definitively in 2x04 when he makes fun of medical specialists. to house, things are simpler for them; house views them as existing in a box, much smaller than his grand purview over things. wilson's work is relegated away from the main text of the show; he operates in isolation, which hurts in the long run.

wilson's own cancer experience is profoundly impacted by the pain of loss he's endured over the years, watching his patients die. he rattles off their names, their cancers, their ages, and the dates they died to house from memory. we never saw these patients. house probably never did, either, so we can only learn of this pain afterwards. we re-contextualize wilson's emotions and behavior after the fact.

finally, the work wilson puts into his friendship with house is often invisible. i won't ever paint wilson as the ideal friend - that would completely ruin any interpretation of his character - but i find it disingenuous to ignore the strain house puts on him, however self-inflicted. what starts out as trickles of jokes and subtle hints (the loans), evolves into the season 3 medical license debacle, which evolves into wilson's repeated responsibility for house's mental health (which isn't even mandated by house, but by those around wilson and house), which finally evolves into house attempting to control wilson's last wishes. repeatedly, wilson is nominated, especially by dr. nolan in season 6 and foreman in season 8, to be house's steward, and who else would do it, but him?

big example: we never see the decision for house to move into wilson's place, but all the energy in the world is put into wilson asking house to leave. it's first presented as a natural assumption, then a mortal sin.

unlike the other characters surrounding house, the origins of wilson and house are usually only hinted at. their history unfolds across the entire show, and that includes the good and the bad parts that are only heard about in passing and in retrospect. at the start of season 5, wilson, at his most honest, breaks the hardest news to house yet - that he's leaving PPTH because of him.

"i've enabled it for years. the games, the binges, the middle-of-the-night phone calls...if i've learned anything from amber, it's that i need to take care of myself."

again, we learn of this long-term pain afterwards, once house takes a beat to digest it. we re-contextualize wilson's emotions and behavior after the fact.

say what you like about what wilson asked house to do in 4x16 (it kills me, personally). i cannot completely fault wilson for telling house this ^. as much as house needs to change, wilson does, too. amber was right about that. we can gauge the strain that house has in his relationships based on how many work out long-term: one.

and later, funny as it is in the moment, wilson is the one to go to physically check in on house in 7x01 when it was VERY apparent that he should not have gone home alone (not to dismiss foreman's attempt in 6x22 to be there for him, though). house's fake voicemail message attests to this: "if this is wilson, i'm fine, not suicidal, not on drugs, coping very well with the loss of my last patient, so feel free to go about your day without worry."

i understand why he crawled through that window! after six seasons of this, i would have done the same!

i argue the same about house that i do about wilson - these 2, despite how messed up they are when it comes to human goodness and love - could not do what they do if they did not have the capacity to love. they're both rewarded in their own, twisted ways; house is gratified that, if nothing else, his brain sets him apart and preserves his sense of self, while wilson gets to feel loved in the way he can never quite fulfill elsewhere. does that cancel out the lives they save and soothe along the way?

all of this is to say that it's easy to brand wilson with a red "morally corrupt guy who pretends otherwise" stamp across his forehead because i think that's what house md tempts us to do by mandating how, when, and what we see of wilson's life. trust me - i'm trudging through season 2 right now and fast approaching his rendezvous with grace. but over time, i think the show invites us to treat him with sympathy and nuance in the same way it does house. if we penalize wilson too much for returning to house, and for needing his neediness, that may just imply that house doesn't deserve that sort of love. and we know that isn't the case.

isn't there more poetic irony than the oncologist getting cancer at hand? what about cancer as the silent-killer? what about cancer eating at every part of the body, slowly, over time? unseen and unheard?

[teddie-bix]

who's the bigger monster, your past or present?

sketch !!

[thef1diary]

Okay the way i need for reader to get her own ghost box or leave a radio on all the time for ghost max to communicate with her is overwhelming i am ILL!!!!!!!

— yess we do need them to communicate again but what fun is it if you don’t make mistakes along the way? 18+ content below

You should’ve put more thought behind your purchases. You knew that, even Max knew that—but here you were, glaring at the third useless package sitting in front of you. Another device that supposedly promised otherworldly communication but did nothing except light up uselessly when you flipped the switch. Frustration bubbled under your skin, not just from the failure but from the reason you kept rushing these decisions in the first place.

It was your fault, and Max knew it. He’d watched the whole thing unfold, his presence practically radiating smug amusement as you laid in bed the other night, one hand buried between your legs while the other shakily scrolled through listings on your phone.

You’d been too far gone to care about the details—clicking Buy Now on the first product with a hint of legitimacy, your breath hitching as your fingers curled deeper, your mind spinning with what Max might say when you finally heard his voice again. Would he whisper sweet nothings? Humiliate you? You couldn’t decide, and it didn’t matter. The thought of hearing him—of finally communicating—was enough to send you tumbling over the edge, crying his name into the quiet room as you hit Place Order.

Max hadn’t stopped you, hadn’t guided your hand or tipped the phone from your grip. No, he let you make the mistake. He let you cum, needy and desperate, knowing full well the package arriving would be another useless joke meant for party tricks. He wanted to watch your face when you realized it.

And now, you groaned in frustration, chucking the stupid device onto the floor, the useless hunk of plastic rattling against the hardwood. “This is bullshit,” you muttered, dragging your hands through your hair.

Then suddenly a sharp, stinging smack from Max’s invisible hand landed on your ass. The sound echoed through the room, startling a yelp from your lips as you stumbled forward, gripping the edge of a chair for balance.

“Max!” you hissed, whipping your head around, but of course, there was nothing to see.

Before you could catch your breath, another smack followed, harder this time, landing on the same spot and drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. Then another, and another, each one punctuating his silent disapproval.

“Max!” you cried out, but there was no conviction in your voice, only the quivering edge of arousal.

He didn’t stop. His unseen hand landed again, this time lower, catching the curve of your other cheek. A shiver ran down your spine as the sting of his punishment made your skin thrum, the pain blurring into pleasure as heat pooled low in your stomach.

Your knees buckled slightly, and you braced yourself against the chair, panting. “You’re such an asshole,” you whimpered, your voice trembling as you slowly realized the reason behind his abrupt punishment.

The stinging smacks soon turned into something else. His touch lingered longer after each strike, the coolness of his palm soothing the ache he’d left behind. His invisible fingers trailed over your skin, teasing the curve of your ass before dipping lower, brushing against your pussy.

His touch was maddening, a ghostly caress that left you trembling, your arousal soaking your cunt as he traced slow circles over your slick lips. But, as quickly as his touch appeared, it vanished, leaving you whimpering for more.

He didn’t need words to communicate his frustration—his punishment was clear. You’d made the same mistake three times now, rushing, letting your need cloud your judgment. And he wasn’t going to let you off easy.

“Fine,” you panted, your hips still bucking slightly into the air as if seeking his phantom touch, desperate for more. “I’ll get it right next time.”

As you stood there, thighs clenched and breath ragged, you realized there was no choice. You’d have to buy the right device. You needed to hear him—to feel him—to beg for forgiveness properly. And this time, you wouldn’t let your desperation cloud your judgment.

want more ghost!max? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[personasintro]

A part of Mutual Help series!

pairing: mh!jungkook x reader

warnings: explicit language, Kiko is mentioned (this deserves it's own warning)

genre: fluff

word count: 1.8k+

a/n: Merry Christmas! ♡

Mutual Help Series

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.

“Oooh, what could be in here?” Taehyung muses, pursing his reddened lips that has gotten its own intense color thanks to the cold weather outside. 

What was he doing outside when you've been at this place for around an hour? Flirting, of course. 

“Knowing you, probably tons of condoms.” you answer, causing Taehyung to stop shaking the present he's just gotten from Jimin. It stops rattling under his grip as he shoots you a glare across the table. 

Unfazed, you reach with your chopsticks for a piece of meat before you put it in your mouth. Next to you, Jungkook cackles under his breath and Jimin looks proud by your little comment. 

“Well, miss I-don't-need-anyone, we all like to have our fun. Maybe you should try it.” Taehyung bites back. Though his tone sounds serious and deep with his thick accent, there's a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. 

You know how far you can take it to joke with each of your friends. Taehyung's got a thick skin and there's only so little you could actually say to offend him. Not that you would ever want to. Taehyung loves jokes and fun, he loves teasing and most of the time he's the one who takes it too far but never to actually cause a damage to your friendship. Whatever he says, you know should not be taken to heart literally. Therefore, no matter what he says about your single life – you don't take it as an insult. 

“Hooking up with a bunch of strangers? No thanks.”

He grins, “Maybe you should try it.”

“You offering?” you shoot right back, Jungkook choking on his soda as Jimin laughs out loud.

“You know what? Once you grow up a little, text me.”

You snort, “Stop acting as if I was a child.”

Taehyung shrugs, “No, but you're the baby of our group.”

Groaning, you frown. “Don't call me that.”

“Deny it all you want, Y/L/N but we all know the truth.”

“You guys scare almost every guy that looks at me. It beats the point of having fun.”

“Don't say shit like that, now! I'm all for you exploring and having fun.”

“Our point of fun is slightly different than hers, Tae.” Jimin comments, putting more meat to your plate as you thank him with a grateful smile. For the meat, of course. Although, he's not that off about the entire fun topic. 

“We all know what kind of fun we're talking about.”

“Alright, let's move on, yeah?” Jungkook calls, shaking his head at Taehyung.

“Here we go, protective Jungkook.”

“Why do you always somehow bring up sex in every conversation?” Jungkook scolds him.

Taehyung gasps, feigning offense as he points his finger at you. “First of all, she started talking about condoms!”

Jimin laughs out loud while you shoot him a glare for being too loud. God, you hope the owners won't kick you out. Talking so publicly about sex is often frowned upon. No one who wants to enjoy their meal wants to hear someone talking about sex from the other table. Unless those people are… open like Taehyung. He's always been a bit shameless. 

 Jungkook glances at you upon Taehyung's finger that's directed toward you. You shrug innocently. “So what? You automatically got into it.”

“You know it doesn't take too much for me.”

“That's true.” Jimin nods along with Taehyung's response. 

You laugh, “Just open the goddamn present, Tae.” 

He cracks a grin and starts laughing before he rips the package open. Surprisingly, it's not condoms – you would seriously laugh your ass out if it were – but it's a box of popular male fragrances in smaller versions. You recognize all of them, silently praising Jimin for this year's present. 

You all exchange presents for each other. There was an idea coming from Jimin, you think, last year to pick up a secret Santa for each year. But there's something special and thoughtful about buying everyone a gift. And it makes a slight burden to all your wallets, but nobody said the presents have to be expensive. Yet, they're always meaningful and nobody gives shitty presents here. 

You meet every year before Christmas since all of you spend it with your families. You've decided to make your own and celebrate it together, even if it's beforehand. This year it has to be because you're flying back home sooner than usual. 

They were kind enough to meet no matter what, said it wouldn't be the same if you weren't here. 

After that is done, Jungkook is the one to take you home since Taehyung came to pick you up. There's fog everywhere with snow sitting down and not melting anytime soon. You love when there's snow around Christmas time.

On your way home, it's not that late by the time you arrive. Jungkook helps you with your presents upstairs and accepts a cup of tea you offer him with a stern look. You're quick to shed the layers of clothes and make yourself more comfortable. You bring Jungkook his tea and make a hot chocolate for yourself.

“What you got in there?” you ask, plopping next to him as the warmth and scent of home hugs you. 

“A little something,” he says with a cheeky grin. 

Spotting the same Christmas wrapping paper he has used for all his presents, you give him a knowing look. You're about to protest and scold the shit out of him when he shakes his head with another grin. 

“Stop.”

“No, you stop!” you whine, “You already gave me your present.”

And it was great. Jungkook has given you two tickets to a water park that's located on Jeju Island. That alone tells you it wasn't quite cheap.

“It's not much, I swear.” 

“But why? We all decided on one present.” 

Grateful that he's so thoughtful, you're slightly annoyed that he broke the rule that perhaps never was so serious but it makes you feel bad. 

“Just because.”

“That's not a valid reason.”

“Sounds very valid to me,” he sings out, teasing you a little further as you both giggle. “You'll understand it once you open it.” he finishes it with that, urging you to open it.

Hiding the heat in your cheeks, you playfully roll your eyes and start unboxing the little box he has managed to sneak in his jacket. Curiosity and excitement takes over you because Jungkook's presents are always something else. You rip the package and gasp as soon as you recognize the familiar box.

“Kook!”

“You told me you ran out the other day.”

“Did you–”

“Bought it when Jimin bought Taehyung's present? Yeah.” He answers, already knows what you were about to ask. But you're too stunned to scold him for interrupting you.

You open the box and pull out your favorite perfume. A few weeks ago, you don't even know how that conversation came up but you mentioned to him that your perfume is running out indeed. It wasn't anything intentional of course, more of a whine when you were about to spray a tiny amount as you were about to go out. You thought he was barely listening to you, urging you to rush out your ass outside. His exact words. 

But he's always listening. 

“I think I'm gonna be more careful what I'm about to say in front of you. You're gonna buy me everything I mentioned.” you chuckle, taking a good inhale of your favorite flowery and powdery scent. You mostly use it during warm seasons but it's a good one even in the winter.

It's your staple scent. Everyone knows it. It's special. You were using it back at home and it not only smells incredible, it also holds a certain emotional attachment you have with it. 

“Don't worry about that, you're out of my budget.” 

You kick the side of his thigh as you cross your legs under your butt, carefully placing the bottle on the table next to the ripped wrapping paper. “I wanted to buy it after Christmas.” 

“You don't have to anymore.”

You give him a look, questioning his answer for everything as he simply justifies his thoughtfulness in the most basic manner. He always brushes it like it's nothing. But it's very special to you. He is. 

In seconds, you wrap your arms around him and hug him tightly. He lets out a surprised gasp, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he hugs you back. He's warm, smells like a mixture of his wooden cologne and winter air. 

“Thank you.” you mumble into his shoulder before you slowly pull away. “But seriously, you should stop spending so much money on me. Don't you have a girlfriend to spend money on?”

As far as you know, she's fine with it but who knows. Jungkook isn't the type to let anyone get into your or guys' friendships. But he's also in love and people in love tend to be slightly blind, if you must say so. Not that you speak from your own experiences but well, it's quite known. And Jungkook is definitely in love. 

“Don't worry about Kiko,” he assures you, “She'll get a good amount of presents too.”

“Well, I hope she loves you for you and not for your bank account.”

He scowls, causing you to give him a childish toothy grin that acts innocent. “She's not like that.”

“But I'm serious, you should stop spending so much money on people. Especially on me.”

“I spend my money however I want and you know what?” he asks with a grin, leaning closer to you as you watch him with wide eyes. “It's none of your business.” he flicks your nose with his thumb causing you to cuss him out as you push his forehead to get him away from your proximity. 

“So really, just accept it.”

“You're stubborn.”

“You're telling me?” he laughs out loud as if you just told him the biggest joke.

Rolling your eyes again, you purse your lips. “I wanted to be nice, you moron.”

“Be nice by just accepting it. And the simple thanks is just enough, not needed though. The hug was very nice.”

You slap his arm in a teasing manner which causes him to laugh even more. “I'll hug you for the rest of my life.”

“Promise?” he smirks. 

“I promise.” you giggle, nodding.

“Well, then Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas, Kook.” you smile, the warmth spreading all over your heart. Even though this year hasn't been all rainbow and sunshine, it's alright as long as you have these people right beside you. 

Who cares about presents? They're nice and show the thoughtfulness behind them by each of your friends. What you need the most is just them. And the special relationship you have with each of them will hopefully last your lifetime. Because if it doesn't, nothing will ever be the same. 

Without them you would feel lost. At the moment, you're anything but lost. You have your second family, hoping this tradition between you never dies and will continue years and years.

[poetsblvd]

SKINCARE BABE ꪆৎ CL16

“How do you not get confused at all?” Charles mumbles in awe of your skincare collection, staring at the jars and tubes of different sizes that sit prettily in organised containers on the large vanity of your bathroom.

You shrug, pulling him lightly by his knuckles towards a seat facing your bathroom mirror. “You get used to it, now sit!”

He smiles softly taking a seat on the cushioned stool next to yours, nodding as you pull out an array of different types of face masks to try with him.

“I have so many fun ones we can do! There’s this clay mask, this gel one, that’s a sheet mask, and then this one peels off.” A delicately manicured finger pulls out the containers and thin boxes from cabinets and lays them down in front of him.

He doesn’t quite know what you’re saying at all, the words mostly fly over his head and he doesn’t understand much of what you’re saying, except that maybe the world has far too many face masks to choose from, but he knows he can listen to you prattle on for hours on end about sheet masks, gel under eye patches, everything really, and never tire.

You hum in concentration, still looking through drawers for anything you may be missing to show him, completely unaware of your boyfriends’ attention being solely on you rather than your skincare.

“You’re so beautiful, you know?” He murmurs smiling up at you.

Your hands pause in their movements, a pretty flush creeping up your cheeks and down your neck, only endearing you more to him.

His hands come to rub at his chest unconsciously still staring at you in awe, a soft gooey feeling coating him turning his eyes into hearts and making his brain go almost numb.

‘’Tellement jolie.” He smiles, large hands carefully sliding around your waist and pulling you closer to stand in front of him, chin resting on the pretty pink silk robe that coats your body. ( so pretty )

“Mon belle amour, comment ai-je eu autant de chance?” He wonders, laughing softly when your hands bashfully come up to cover your face, french glossy nails shining in the light. ( my beautiful love, how did i get so lucky? )

“Charlie!” You whine, dragging out his name in exasperation mumbling a shy I love you, that’s incredibly well received if his ear splitting grin and giggle are anything to go by.

He tugs you onto his lap, making sure you’re comfortable, hands still woven tightly around your waist, his head in the crook of your neck, he smears a soft kiss on your shoulders and nudges you to the face masks again.

“Tell me what face mask you like the most mon beau.” You pull out a small glass pot labeled ‘volcanic clay mask’ and he fights all his inner questions down when you start rattling off its benefits of how it minimises pores and helps target fine lines?

“Okay amour, will you put it on for me?” He smiles cheesily, pushing his face forward and turning you around in his hold.

“We have to push your hair back first love.” You pull out a brand new headband from the drawer next to you and present it to him, grinning at his loud bark of laughter at the lightning mcqueen skincare headband in front of of him.

“Oh my God!”

“You like it?” You question, happiness bubbling inside you.

Nodding eagerly he lets you slip it onto his head and push back his hair “Love it! Love you, so much, Je t’aime mon coeur.”

“Je t’aime aussi Cha.”

“Wow, I am going to be the coolest in the paddock, Lightning mcqueen headband? Max is going to be so jealous.”

love note , hi i hope you guys liked this!! i’m not the most pleased with this but i had the teeniest crumb of inspo to write and it’s 4:20 am (again) so please bear with me!! but i found the idea cute and i was struggling to put it into words, but it is what it is! also i have a bunch of reqs in my inbox that i promos i’ll get to, but i’m recovering from the most disgusting flu and have the most awful writers block, so we’ll go slow and steady!! anyways happy reading mwah xx

[purplecoffee13]

Nerdrry - office crush part two*

Part 1 here!

Wc: 2.2k

Warnings: light smut, f!ngering, teeny tiny bit of dirty talk

A/N: Hello everyone, here is a part two of the nerdrry blurb I wrote a while back. I kept imagining those two on a first date, and I decided to write it down. Also THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD so sorry if there are mistakes😙

Enjoy!

General Masterlist

Harry could've thrown up from the anxiety that was rushing through his body as he stood in the elevator, waiting to be brought up to the fifth floor, to Y/N's apartment.

To their date.

Was it a date? He wasn't sure, still. From the way Y/N had asked him, and the faint blush on her cheek every time he would allude to the Friday night, he thought he could positively confirm that it was, in fact, a date. Harry let out a tired sigh, slightly shaking his head to clear his thoughts.

No, never mind if this was a date or not, he was going to make it one anyway. He promised himself to make a move tonight, to go for what he wanted instead of nervously standing by and hoping to be chosen. He liked Y/N so much, and if there was even the slightest chance that she liked him back... well, he wouldn't be able to live with his moronic self if he'd never try and find that out.

The hallway was silent as he walked up to apartment 5C, the only sound coming from his sneakers patting against the ground with each step he took, and his bag that crinkled. He'd brought a lot of snacks, maybe too many, but he simply couldn't choose.

Standing in front of her door, Harry allowed himself to breathe in and out once more before knocking on the door. He heard some distant shuffling and the sound of a rattling lock, but in no time the door opened and a smiling Y/N stood in front of him.

The smell of vanilla hit his nostrils in the short time it took him to raise his brows at the sight of her and conjure a smile of his own. The warmth radiating from the apartment was comforting, and it reflected Y/N perfectly. She, too, radiated this kind of ease.

"Come in!" She said cheerily as she stepped aside, allowing Harry to enter her home. He looked around, eyes wide in wonder at how fitting this apartment was for her; he felt like he was looking into her mind.

Posters, art and photographs decorated the white walls; a clear alternative for painting them, something he imagined her landlord wouldn't let her do. She had a colorful rug and a green couch that he'd always found cool but was too insecure to buy. Harry would always consider everything thrice before making a decision, and sometimes he wished he was a little more careless. To just buy something because he thought it was pretty, not because it was necessarily convenient. Have a little more fun from time to time. He could learn from Y/N.

"You have a great apartment." Harry noted, not being able to articulate his thoughts more elaborately. Y/N peeped a soft thanks, slowly peeling the bag with snacks from his hands and putting it on top of the kitchen counter. Harry followed her steps, biting his lip to refrain from grinning like an idiot at her curious face scanning all the products he'd brought along.

"Oh, I love chocolate chip cookies! I forgot to buy them, and I was so sad because the shop had already closed." She beamed, holding the box up like it was some sort of prized possession. Harry stood there, his stomach fluttering so intensely that he felt he might get dizzy, but nothing about that feeling was scary, not like it was before. These feelings could make him floaty all they wanted, she made him feel grounded anyway.

After investigating every snack that was in the bag, Y/N carried—or tried to—everything to the coffee table, where a mountain of snacks already resided. Harry quirked up his brow.

"I thought we said I would take care of the snacks." He said, sitting down and looking at Y/N for clarity. She swallowed.

"Well— yeah, but I just... I was at the store anyway, so."

Harry was stunned. Was she nervous, around him? He could've laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. Here he was, stressing about this girl and whether she would ever give him the light of day, and now she was tripping over her words like he was the one who needed to be impressed, and not the other way around.

He hummed at the girl's wobbly answer, and mainly let Y/N talk as she plopped next to him and put on the documentary.

Harry didn't know why he thought it would be awkward to watch a documentary together. Sure, it might be if he went on a date with a boring person, but not with Y/N. She was constantly throwing in facts, referring to the 1997 Titanic movie, or noting how delicious the snacks were. There were plenty of silences, but they weren't dull.

About twenty—almost thirty minutes in—is when it all changed, for Harry at least. Y/N had been shuffling in her seat for the past five minutes, but he'd kept surprisingly still. Harry had no idea how to handle this whole 'making a move while watching a movie' thing that quite literally every guy on the planet seemed to have down.

She finally changed positions, leaning against the armrest of the couch and stretching her legs, right over Harry's lap. He stiffened slightly in those first two seconds, shocked at the fact that she threw her legs on him so casually. His eyes flicked back and forth between her face and her legs, but she didn't acknowledge her action and kept on watching the movie instead. Harry decided to do the same.

And so, casually, he began tracing mindless figures on her upper thigh. He swore that there was electricity in his fingertips as they grazed over the material of her leggings, and he tried his hardest to keep his eyes on the TV screen in front of him.

When the end of the documentary rolled around, Harry finally allowed himself to look at Y/N, whose eyes were already on him. He didn't stop the movements of his fingers, hoping to see a trace of its effect on her face. The corner of his mouth lifted when he saw it. She was flushed.

"I'm going to the bathroom." She announced, very suddenly, and pulled her legs away before hurrying off into her hallway. Harry's heart was racing, he needed to do something. He drank a few gulps of his water and set the glass down as he gave himself a mental pep talk.

When Y/N returned and tried to walk past Harry to sit down again, he grabbed her wrist before she had the chance to go anywhere. His head turned slowly, looking up at her confused face.

"I like you." Harry blurted out, feeling a sense of relief as he said it out loud. Such relief was short lived, though, when he noticed the crease between Y/N'a eyebrows deepen.

"I'm sorry, I'm not... very good at this whole small talk, subtle hints kind of thing. I just— I like you, and I'm really hoping that this was a date. And if it's not, I hope you'll let me take you on one." He confessed, grateful to get it off his chest. The frown on her face slowly faded, and a dimple appeared as Y/N began to smile. The floaty feeling was back, sure to knock him off his feet if he were to stand up.

"You're such a dork, of course this is a date." She teased, letting Harry intertwine his fingers with hers. "And I like you too."

Harry raised his brows, and slowly got up to stand, towering over Y/N by a landslide. Her eyes widened ever so slightly, the height difference throwing her off guard.

"Yeah? You do?" He asked, needing to make sure he hadn't dreamed the answer that had left her mouth. Harry's voice was raspier, heavier than just a few seconds ago. His need for her was weighing down on him; he couldn't hold it in anymore.

When Y/N nodded, he swore he could've exploded right then and there. Nothing was holding him back anymore, no insecurities or uncertainties. There was only the soul crushing urge to touch her and to never stop.

It entirely possessed him as he leaned forward, grabbing her face and planting his lips on hers. Carefully, but with a sense of haste that could only come from the carefully restrained crush he'd had on her. He never thought he'd be able to do this, to have her lips on his like this, to slide his tongue in and taste every corner of her mouth as her arms wrapped around his neck, getting as close to him as she could. He felt her relief in the way she moved.

Y/N broke away from the kiss, her eyes still on Harry's lips before she slowly dragged her eyes up to meet his. The moment they did, Harry knew he was a goner. Something inside of him unleashed, washing away any doubt whatsoever the moment her lips touched his. Enough for him not to think twice about leaning in and planting his mouth on hers again. Grabbing her jaw with one hand, he pulled her closer to him, her body immediately following.

Harry could feel his jeans start to strain as he slipped in his tongue and she allowed him to do so. Burying him back into the couch, Y/N climbed on top of him, her hips mindlessly starting to move against him. It was slow, torturous, and needy.

His hands had slowly traveled to her hips, guiding them along as she ground against him. Harry groaned. He needed her as close as possible; this crush of him was possessing him entirely. It was hard not to fall apart at the way she whined when he took his lips off of hers, but Harry pulled away nonetheless.

He grabbed her hips and directed her until she was sitting on his right thigh. Looking up at her in silence, he slowly guided his own hand towards the black sweatpants she was wearing. She gasped when his fingers tugged at her underwear, glancing down in anticipation. Harry only kept his eyes on Y/N, drinking in her every reaction to his touch. He could drown in it for all her cared.

“Is that okay?” He asked, voice horse from the thick tension that hung between them. Nodding vigorously, Y/N brows creased in an inpatient frown.

“Yes, please—” She breathed out. Harry let out an absentminded hum, indicating for her to specify. She met his unwavering stare, a deep sense of frustration in her eyes, probably at the casualness with which he addressed her plea. Harry’s cock twitched.

“Touch me, please.”

Not wasting any more time, Harry immediately obeyed Y/N’s wishes and stuck his fingers between her panties. A moan fell from her lips the second his cold finger touched her heat, her relief shown in the way her shoulders slumped slightly.

Slowly, he began circling her clit, just to get her started. But he couldn’t ignore the slickness that coated his hands, and he felt his ego grow at the realization that she had been tremendously wet already.

“Shit, you’ve soaked my fingers already. That’ll make it easy to…” He said, sliding his fingers into her before he could even both to finish his sentence. She was so wet they slipped inside with ease. His erection grew even more painful when she mewled in pleasure and began to grind herself on his fingers, and his thigh. Y/N was a sight for sore eyes with the way her body moved. Jaw slack as she stimulated her most sensitive parts with Harry’s hand.

From the way her breaths were getting shorter, he could tell she was getting close to her climax already. Her brows curled upwards, and she spoke like it cost her all her energy.

“Please don’t stop.” She let out an exhausted, exhilarated whine. She was slowing down, despite how near her climax was. Harry looked down, seeing her trembling thighs. Her legs had gone a bit tired, he figured. Poor thing, she wanted it so bad.

Taking pity, Harry revved up the movements of his hand, fingering her at a much faster pace than Y/N had been able to create. She leaped forward in shock, the sudden intensity bringing her closer with each high pitched shriek that escaped her.

“There you go, that’s it.” He encouraged her, running out of breath himself. Harry felt like his ears were ringing when she pulsated around his fingers, her climax nearly made him come. But he managed to keep it together as she convulsed around him. Her head buried in his shoulders made for a muffled string of moans, and his heart fluttered at the mention of his name a couple of times. All while her pussy coated his hand with the aftermath of her orgasm.

They stayed like that, for a little while at least. Harry stroked Y/N’s hair while she came down from the high, hands clung to his shoulders as she tried to steady her heartbeat. There was no indication that Y/N’s head was going to be lifted from his shoulders anytime soon, and as he waited, he found that he didn’t care for it at all. With her in his arms like this he could stay on that couch forever…

General taglist: @mema10

[souperbloom]

hey! i love your ash and luke one shots so i was wondering if maybe we can get a soft dom cal? something like he comes home late from a studio session and you get mad because you had plans for that night, so he begs for forgiveness by eating you out lol

i love your brain anon. this one was fun as hell.

enjoy some soft!dom cal <3 xoxo

————————

apologies. [C.H.]

🎸boyfriend!cal

the ask pretty much told y’all everything you need to know. kissy.

CONTENT WARNINGS: smut!, angst if u squint, oral (f!receiving), dirty talk/praise, squirting.

WORDCOUNT: 3.4k

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

"Are you guys fuckin’ coming, or what?"

"Yeah, just— gimme’ another hour. We’ll be there…"

"Swear?"

"Fuckin’ swear, Ang."

You were lying.

You knew damn well you were lying. And so did your best friend, Angie.

Also known as; the one on the phone, that had been pestering you about your plans to go out for the last three hours.

You’d been stalling for a third of that time, which you weren’t proud of. These plans had been made weeks in advance and the only thing stopping you from just getting up and leaving right now was your rather untimely boyfriend.

Calum was the type to let time slip right through his fingers. He was terrible at managing how he spent that time, let alone keeping an eye on the clock. Especially when he was at the studio with the boys.

So you weren’t surprised when he had told you he’d be home to get changed at 10:30— yet now, it was well past midnight.

Letting out a frustrated huff, you toss your phone on the side of the couch. Your long sleeve ‘going out’ top was riding up your back and furthering the anger that was boiling right through you.

"Fuckin’ hell, Cal…" You mumble to yourself, talking into open air with nobody to reprimand, nobody to yell at and let off steam.

You were alone.

The clock on the cable box blinked 12:32. An hour and a half later than the original time of your plans. You were about ready to storm out of your apartment and leave a long, shitty note for Cal to read about just how angry he had made you; but you knew deep down that you’d have a better time with him at your side. You loved him, for fuck’s sake.

Too damn much, sometimes.

Just when you thought a little too hard about putting your shoes on, you hear the familiar sound of keys rattling against the door. It was more frantic than usual; most likely due to the sweaty hands that were manning them.

You snap your head around to watch the door bust open, revealing your panting boyfriend who had probably just run up the five flights of stairs it took to get to your apartment.

He was never a fan of waiting for the elevator.

"Hi, hi, baby— hi— I’m— I’m here, I’m here." An exasperated chuckle laces through your boyfriend’s words as he tried with all of his might to kick the door closed and take his coat off at the same time.

But you just sat there. Your legs crossed, your arms folded— the most scornful, disapproving gaze in your eye.

"You’re late, Cal," you say, disdain rattling off your tongue like a viper.

"I— I know, baby. Fuck, I’m sorry. Lost track of time… fuckin’ around when I shouldn’t have been. But— I’m here now. I’m here."

His words were coming out jumbled and frantic, while still running around like a chicken with its’ head cut off. He had ventured towards the kitchen island, dropping his keys and taking off his beanie that shielded him from the crisp fall winds.

His cheeks were glowing red, still laminated with the sweat it took to get him up five flights of stairs. Yet he hadn’t even made eye contact with you.

"We made these plans weeks ago." You try your best at remaining stern with him, sitting still.

"I know, I know, I know, I know…" Calum was now migrating towards your bedroom, his voice growing faint and trailing off as he exited. You watched the empty hallway; the sounds of rummaging through drawers, opening and slamming them shut was already pissing you off more than you’d like to admit. Your leg was bobbing impatiently now, trying to think of any kind of way to cool yourself off before you burst into flames.

Or, tears.

"Cal—." Your voice cracks slightly, to no response.

"Calum." You try again, a bit louder this time.

His head finally pops around the corner of the door frame. "What?"

"Just—" Your sentence breaks with a sigh, dropping your head into your hand as you pinch the bridge of your nose, "—forget it."

"What?" He steps out into the hallway completely, dropping his hands to his sides.

"Forget it, Cal… I-I don’t even wanna’ go anymore."

The clothes that were once in his hands drop to the hardwood floor as he rushes over to you on the couch.

"Hey,” he tries to console, "don’t say that."

"What’s the point? We’re already two hours late! Angie’s one phone call away from ripping my goddamn head off!" You can’t help but huff, dropping your head into your hands.

"Y/N, I’m really sorry." Calum voice rings soft, and sweet— but there was nothing more that you wanted to do than wring out his fucking neck.

"Just— drop it, Calum. I’m already in a shitty mood."

You hated being so mean.

Each time you yelled at him was like the snapping of one of your heart strings. But despite that tightness in your chest, he needed to know how much this affected you. Whether you liked it or not.

Calum stays quiet for a moment, seemingly nervous to say the wrong thing or misstep. He was always so cautious with you, never picking a fight. Even though you’ve picked many.

"Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?" He asks, squatting down to be level with your sunken face.

"No."

"I could… run you a bath?"

You shake your head. "Nuh uh."

"I could make you dinner?"

"I already ate."

When you peek out from between your fingers, you notice Calum’s lips pushed to the side. He braces his hands on your knees, still crouching and trying to get some sort of read on your face.

He could tell you weren’t happy.

And he fucking hated that.

"Can I see that pretty face?"

That almost got a smile out of you, but you opted just to shake your head.

"I’m not sure how else to say I’m sorry, my girl." His thumb starts a cadence of soothing circles around the outside of your knees.

"Try saying it in French," you mumble, rubbing your tired eyes.

Calum sucks his teeth, "Ouch."

Growing impatient and just about ready for bed, you sit upright. Faced with Calum for the first time since he bust through the door.

His heather green flannel was slouching on his shoulders, looking beat up from the 10 hour day he’d spend working in the studio. His curls hung lowly over his big brown eyes, in desperate need of a trim.

It was taking everything inside of you not to grab his face and tell him how much you loved him, because in spite of all this, you still did.

He was an expert at pissing you off, and it only made you love him more.

"There’s my beautiful girl," he says upon seeing you, smiling meekly, still trying to get your spirits up.

"’Don’t feel it."

"Why not?"

"’Cause you piss me off."

Cal chuckles, squeezing your kneecaps and adjusting his squatted position.

"Can’t really argue with that."

The two of you stare at each other for a moment; the decorative string lights from behind your couch were twinkling in his chocolatey irises, and painting him out to be some sort of angel. His pretty cherub cheeks were still rosy from rushing around and quite frankly, it suited him.

You’ve fallen too damn hard.

"Y’know, I thought of another way to make it up to you."

"Yeah?" You quip, leaning back on the couch cushions.

"Mhm."

His hands were still lingering, moving up to massage your exposed thighs that were now catching a draft from your lack of movement. You had planned to wear this outfit on the day you told Angie you’d be there tonight. So the fact that you were still in it, yet not where you said you’d be, was making your blood boil.

"Gonna buy me back all the time I wasted getting ready for tonight?" You seethe lowly, trying not to sound too bitchy yet coming across as the bitchiest bitch in the world.

Calum frowns, his Doc Martens squeaking against the hardwood floor as he adjusts his posture, "You’re really good at that."

"Good at what?" You muse, chuckling through your nose.

"Firing the shit I pull right back at me. It’s sexy."

"Don’t try to butter me up, Cal. I know I’m sexy. Hence why it took me an hour and a half to get ready."

For some odd reason, your whiny complaints and moody comments towards Calum didn’t seem to be effecting him. They were bouncing off his puffed up chest like he was made of rubber. He was used to your incessant need to be on time, and how he was quite literally your antithesis.

But those witty remarks you kept throwing at him were one of the things he loved most about you. Which is why he kept egging you on.

"I’m really sorry, baby. I’m really sorry I wasted your time."

You try your hardest to bite back a smile, but it doesn’t go over well. "You should be."

Without another word, Calum is dropping down to his knees and suddenly, your heart is racing.

"Can I make it up to you," his hand creeps towards the hemline of your skirt, "like this?"

"I’ll consider it," you nod, trying to seem unbothered by your boyfriend’s large, weathered hands, "But what’s in it for me?"

"Trust me, baby. It’ll be all about you. You won’t have to move a muscle and I swear, on everything I love…"

His fingers stretch across the width of your thighs, prying open your legs with a wicked grin.

"… I’ll have your fuckin’ legs shaking like crazy within the next ten minutes."

Your face flushes, hands subconsciously gripping onto the couch cushions down at your sides at your boyfriend’s promise. He’s still gleaming up at you, waiting for your approval; he’s never the type to handle you without your permission.

"The journey to forgiveness is a long, winding road… But this is definitely a good start, Calum. Well done."

Despite your cool, agile reply, your heart continues to thump out of your ribcage when you see how your unnerving boyfriend reacts to the sound of his own name. He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply with that smile still painted onto his cheeks.

"Keep fuckin’ talking like that. See where you end up."

You scoff playfully, "Is that a threat, Mr. Hood?"

"Not a threat, my girl… It’s a promise."

His hands are dancing dangerously close to your underwear now, having crept up your skirt without you even noticing. But you hadn’t a care in the world. You were merely turned on by the sight of him, so eager to please you. So ready for your forgiveness.

"Fuck, you’re good," you groan, letting a whimper slip past as well, "Show me how sorry you really are, then."

In no time, Calum is leaving a sultry trail of kisses up your thigh. You hiss at the feeling of his cool lips against you; having not felt them since the last time the two of you fucked. Which was about four days ago.

He had been quite busy in the studio with the band’s upcoming album, so times like these were a novelty. Not like you minded much, any quality time spent with Calum was worth a million years.

And besides, he’s damn good at it. Why tamper with an already perfect system?

"I know what I said, but can you do somethin’ for me?" Your boyfriend’s head pops up from beneath your skirt with sparkly eyes.

"Mh, depends." You reply lazily.

"Wanna hear you, baby. Wanna hear that pretty voice."

"That won’t be an issue," you smile, lifting your upper half from the couch, "You may have to earn it though…"

Calum’s eyebrow quirks, looking like he’s just about ready to wipe that catty smile right off of your face.

"Since when are you the one to give orders around here?"

You sit up even further to spit back, "Since you decided to fuck around with your boyfriends and make us miss our fucking plans."

There isn’t even an opportunity for you to say any more, since Calum had decided to grip the backs of your thighs and yank you to the edge of the couch. He lifts your legs, ripping your panties off swiftly and tossing your knees over his shoulders before you can even blink.

You gasp at the sudden dynamic change, shallow breaths barely escaping your throat as your boyfriend is now heaving as well. His once angelic brown eyes had shifted to something darker.

Somebody needed to pinch you. You must be dreaming.

"Watch that mouth," he growls lowly, that soft demeanor of his slightly peeking through his cold exterior, "Not gonna tell you again."

Your face drops, now nodding like a desperate mess.

"I don’t care how sorry I am. Good girls get their way, bad girls don’t. And we both know that, don’t we my baby?"

"Yes— yes sir."

"Gonna be good for me?"

You nod again, fingernails digging into the couch cushions as his apology has not only become something you really really wanted—

It was now something you needed.

"Please, Cal. Promise… Promise I’ll be good for you."

He smiles, and a familiar warmth settles back into the pit of your stomach as he kisses both of your knees.

"That’s my fuckin’ girl."

Sweat begins to pool across your forehead when the first kiss is planted on your inner thigh. You writhe above him, patiently waiting for his mouth to travel down to where you needed it to be.

But patience runs thin in moments like these, especially since Calum was such a fucking tease.

"Cal, baby— please…"

Another couple of kisses later and you’re still feeling unfulfilled. At this point, his head was so far deep into your skirt that you could only see the frosty tips of his unruly curls. He hears your plea, nodding slowly.

"Getting there, pretty. Getting there…"

A shock wave zaps your spine the moment he makes contact with your clit. Your body jolts, feeling the slow rhythm of his tongue toying with your sensitive bud.

"Jesus fuck—" You sigh, trying to fulfill the promise of letting him hear you while simultaneously trying to lasso your head back onto your shoulders.

Calum hums happily, which sends another wave of flutters down your body. You were so damn sensitive, and your boyfriend knew it too. But when his head was between your legs, he never seemed to think, or care about anything else.

He flattens his tongue against your dripping slit, making sure to move slowly and pay attention how long it took him to drag his tongue from one part, to the next. You’re still wriggling around, but Cal’s got his arms locked around your thighs.

You couldn’t pull away even if you wanted to.

"Just— just like that, baby… Keep— keep doing that."

The blood rushes to your head when he finds that particularly sweet spot with the tip of his tongue; he’s moaning, you’re moaning, it was like a symphony of desperate pleas. Your hands fly to meet his head, fingers getting tangled in his chocolatey curls as he starts to use his nose in cohesion with his tongue.

"Fuck me, you’re magic, Cal…"

He hums again. Of course, he agrees. He knows he’s the only one who could ever make you feel this way, and he was damn proud of it.

Apology: accepted.

But you wouldn’t tell him that.

That familiar crash of adrenaline was beginning to wash over you, your stomach began twisting in knots as each tug of Calum’s hair produced more and more pressure onto your pussy. He was chipping away at you, collecting your juices onto his tongue and savoring each and every flavor of you. By the sounds he was making, you could only assume that he was enjoying this just as much as you were.

"Cal, baby… I’m close. Gonna’ cum… gonna’ cum really soon."

You say the magic words. Your lower half was already preforming backflips at only the flick of his tongue, but that euphoria heightened when he took it upon himself to pop his head up and start using his fingers instead.

He dips one finger inside of your dripping heat, his face slicked with your wetness as he finds your eyes for the first time since he started. Your mouth hangs open, trying your hardest to keep the eye contact as he begins to speak.

"Forgive me, baby? I’m really, really, really sorry."

You nod wearily through a breathy moan, attempting to stop your eyes from rolling into the back of your head.

"Y—yes… Yes Cal, I—"

Your sentence is cut short by the feeling of a second finger entering you, curling up to brush against that sweet spot with each new stroke.

"Yes what? You forgive me? Say it like you mean it, my girl… I know you can do it."

His taunting words pull another moan from your throat. He’s still looking at you with hooded eyes, enjoying every second of watching you fall apart. You weren’t sure what had gotten into your sweet boy tonight, but you definitely didn’t mind it.

"Yes. Yes, baby— I— I forgive you," you breathe, that swirling feeling in the pit of your stomach ready to burst, "I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you…"

Calum nods, his teeth sunk deeply into his bottom lip as he watches the obscene ways of your impending orgasm. If he was more honest with himself, your face alone could’ve had him coming on the spot. But he would never admit that. You always came first.

"Yeah? You mean it?" He asks another question. You swore this was some sort of game.

"Yes baby, I— I mean it—!"

Your breathing picks up, Calum’s fingers now moving a bit sloppily, yet keeping that steady rhythm that was driving you up the walls. The pressure building in your lower half was unfamiliar, drawing quick confusion out of you mere seconds before your orgasm.

"Cal, wait— I—"

Alarm bells were blaring in your head, now that Calum had taken his other, freer hand to press his palm flat onto your stomach. He knew what was coming, but you didn’t have a clue.

"Let it go for me, my girl. Let me hear it. Fuckin’ give it t’ me."

Not only does your orgasm rip through your body like a whip cracking down onto pavement, a new sensation was felt the moment Cal told you to let go. A spurt of wetness coats his fingers and the lower half of his face, bringing you to immediately go stark white.

Your chest is heaving, coming down from the high that your boyfriend had just whipped you through. He beat the clock and kept his promise, that’s for damn sure.

"What just— what the fuck. What the fuck, Cal?" You giggle through the comedown, watching Calum triumphantly admire his digits that were now soaked with you. The feeling of you. The taste of you.

"Think you just accepted my apology in more ways than one, baby," your beau chuckles, wiping his face with the back of his fist.

"I can’t believe I just did that," you mumble meekly, now slightly self-conscious as you realized what had just occurred.

Calum scoffs with a shrug, "I can, are you kidding? I knew you had it in you. And all it took was me fucking up to get it out."

"Don’t put it like that," you cringe, scrunching your nose, "Makes it weird."

Calum then begins a slow rhythm of massaging your thighs, something he always does whenever you’re coming down from one of your highs.

"Okay. Won’t make it weird. But let me ask you this— are you still mad?"

You raise your eyebrows, still flustered, watching him lean upward to rest his elbows on your legs. His flannel was in a disarray, as were his curls; you were so wrapped up in admiring him that the thought of anger never even crossed your mind.

"Mad about what?" you ask innocently.

"Mhm," he hums, before leaning in to peck you gently on the lips, "Exactly."

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[cwwv9]

hey can u do bllk with the following prompt.

I think I read it somewhere, but basically kaiser and reader ordering pizza or take out and kaiser opening the door and the pizzap girl is like"damm can u give me ur number" reader hearing the commotion appears and the girl is like" wow, nevermind can u give me ur number gorgeous" then reader teasing kaiser later. U can do kaiser or any of the other boys

«Everything but your number»

— without gender!reader x michael kaiser

warning: slight hint of jealousy, hot water and a hot Kaiser, possible sudden portions of flirting and jokes, everyday fluff (many everyday details), does not contain explicit scenes, but Michael Kaiser, as always, does not know how to be modest

note: AAAAA MY FIRST REQUEST, I SCREAM!!! thank you very much for the request!!!!! I added a little booty from myself, but I hope you still like the result!

mailbox open for queries!!!!

It rained in the streets, as if it wanted to wash you off all day. The clothes clung to the body, the fingers trembled and the hair was heavy from the water when you knocked on the door. Michael opened, leaning lazily on a joint, and seeing you, his eyebrow bent with a contemptuous grin:

– Did you have a bath in the fountain? Or did you decide to play the dramatic character on the soundtrack?

– Can I just warm up and then you can make fun of me?

– Welcome to the five-star hotel of the Kaiser, he snorted, backing away, his shower to the right. Don’t forget to thank your savior.

You just popped something under your nose and hurried into the bathroom. Hot water was a real paradise after the ice storm outside. Meanwhile, while you were washing away your fatigue, Kaiser, wrapped up in his favorite robe with a thin waistband, opening the upper part of his body and always in search of the gastronomic ideal, ordered pizza.

Twenty minutes passed when the doorbell rang. Michael, as he was in the habit of taking his time, came up, opened the door with a single movement and stood before the messenger, who clearly did not expect that her shift would suddenly turn into a fanfic.

– Pizza in the name of... Kaiser? – she whispered, not taking her eye from his face.

– There was a light as always in everything. – He grinned, taking the box. But before closing the door, the girl lingered:

– Damn... can you give me your number?

Second. Another one. Michael squinted, obviously going to say something spiteful - and then you came out of the shower. In a huge towel around the body, hair still moist, curls stuck to the face, skin warm from the water, the body all relaxed - and just at that moment heard her voice:

– Wow... forget it. Can you give me YOUR number, pretty?

You blinked and then turned to Michael with a grin:

– Wow. Was that you ordering pizza or casting for the third in a relationship?

Kaiser rolled his eyes, taking the box and slamming the door in front of her.

– What a world, such and such standards, he rattled. – People lose their minds just looking at me. A little more - and she would have offered to stay the night.

You laughed, coming closer:

– Are you jealous?

– Me? PF. I’m above that. – He put the box on the table, but he still looked at you with his eyes gliding down your neck, his hair, as if only now to see what you looked like.

Pause.

– Although if someone else dares to stare at you like that... – he got closer, leaning towards your ear – they’d better book their ticket to hell right away. No return.

You laughed again, patting him on the shoulder:

– Okay, Kaiser. Relax. Pizza’s gonna get cold faster than you can make a drama.

– Never underestimate my ability for drama. – Michael sat down on the couch, undressing his robe and reaching for the remote. – But yes. You are more important now.

You joined, covering yourself in a warm blanket.

[twst-drabbles]

Divus 4

Summary: Class is over and you and Divus are hanging out in his classroom. Divus gives you his pointer and you used it against him for the fun of it.

(I look at Divus and think 'brat.' Both a brat and a brat tamer at the same time. How fun! Anyways, nothing explicit, no need to worry.)

The day was over and all the students are meandering about, doing whatever after class activities they've signed up for. Usually you'd be in your designated closet, setting up your cleaning cart, but you've had to help Divus with his class all day, so you're more than a little tired.

That and Divus insisted and you're not one to fight a break when you can grab it. If Dire throws a fit, you can throw him under the bus and make a quick getaway.

"Now then, I'd say today went well. Almost suspiciously so, it almost makes my skin crawl." Yeah you can see why. Imagine that, having rowdy students year after year, and suddenly this particular generation of students decide to start behaving. A change like that would rattle people of Divus's type.

"You were itching to punish a student, huh? Starting to miss your 'rowdy pups' I take it?" You stood up from your chair and gave a big stretch, popping a few spots in your spine. You sighed in relief then dragged your chair over to Divus's desk. You two will probably be chatting for a while.

"Haa… a little bit yes, but I have to admit, it's a good thing they're starting to listen to me more. Can't begin to imagine why that's happening though, not with the headmage that we have." Divus flicked his pointer back and forth as he sat down, as if longing to snap it against a desk. "It probably won't be long before I have to put this down, to gather time and dust. How sad."

"A tragedy." You almost expected him to start dramatically sniffing, but he prides himself on not being childish. He settled for a fake little frown. You held out your hand and on instinct, Divus gave you his pointer. "Did you pay a lot for this thing? Feel custom made."

The teacher pointers you've seen all have a uniform flavor to it, where you can easily imagine boxes upon boxes of the stuff inside a teacher's closet. This one though, you expected to have it's own fancy red velvet pillow right besides Divus's bed. It's perfectly polished, and now matter how much you scrutinized it, you can't find a single scratch. He really loves this thing, huh?

"Yes and it makes replacing it such a pain," Divus leaned on his hand, exhaustion covering him like a second fur coat, "but I say it's well worth the thaumarks. It matches me perfectly, doesn't it?"

You paused in your playing around with the white gemstone and looked towards Divus. He gave you a playful wink, as if to tease you for staring. With a deft hand, you snapped that pointer on the table, right on the space between his thumb and finger. Divus jumped a bit, eyes wide open as you stroked the cold golden pointer over the length of his neck. His throat bobbed, his smooth skin sparkling with a sudden light sheen of sweat. You stopped right under his chin. With a nudge of your hand, you forced Divus to look up at you.

There was silence, with only the sound of Divus's breath growing heavier. You didn't waver in the slightest as you held his gaze, his lips lightly parted as if anticipating something. Only when a lock of black hair fell loose from behind his ear did you smile. "Yup, suits you just fine."

Divus went stone still as soon as you took the pointer away and laid it on his desk. Within a few seconds, he rebooted, but the smile he gave back to you was stiff, as if clenching his jaw. His eyes thinned to a very nasty glare.

"Well, wasn't that a nice little prank. Would you like me to show you one of my own?"

"Yeah yeah, maybe later Divus, I know you're not angry at all." You waved him off as you settle back against your chair, stretching just a little bit more to get more parts of you relaxed.

Divus held onto that look for just a minute longer, probably hoping that you'll crack and take him seriously, but he deflated first with a shake of his head and a tired smile. "I really can't pull one over you, can I?"

"Nope. Now, can I hear more about your dogs?"

[kirain]

Emmrich forgetting Rook's birthday and feels guilty so he makes it up to her?

Emmrich doesn't strike me as the type of partner who would forget important dates like that, but what if he simply didn't know? Hopefully this is still a fun read:

A soft breeze swept through the Necropolis, interrupted only by the crisp snipping of shears. Emmrich, working in peaceful silence, pruned the vibrant flowers that twisted around the graves, their blooms not wild or unruly, but rather tributes that seemed to spring forth in honour of the dead.

Across the way, Vae moved with an elegance he couldn't help but admire. She wasn't simply tending to flowers; she handled each headstone with care, brushing away the dirt and arranging the petals to frame every name.

"You're putting a lot of thought into this," Emmrich said, her quiet reverence bringing a smile to his face.

Vae glanced up at him, a strand of hair falling loose from her tie. "Like you always say, the dead deserve dignity," she said, her voice warm. "It feels right to take my time."

Before he could reply, the sharp echo of boots broke the tranquility. Both turned to see a young courier enter the Necropolis, his gaze uneasy as he scanned the shadowy cemetery; clearly not a local, and clearly unsettled by the view.

"Over here!” Vae called amicably, hoping to sooth his nerves. Quickly, she set her shears aside and wiped her hands on her pants.

"Are you Vae?" The man approached, clutching his satchel tightly. "The, uh... death folk told me you'd be here."

"That's me."

Relieved, the courier handed her a small parcel wrapped in unassuming brown parchment. "This is for you. Straight from Antiva."

"Antiva?" Vae raised an eyebrow as she accepted the delivery, her expression curious.

She couldn't guess what it was or who had sent it, but she had no intention of bombarding the poor man with inane questions he probably couldn't answer. With a grateful nod, she reached into her pocket and handed him a generous tip.

"Th-thank you!" he stammered, tipping his hat. Then he mumbled a quick, "Pleasure," before scurrying off, eager to leave the solemn atmosphere.

"Now, what could that be?" Emmrich asked, tilted his head.

"I'm not sure." Carefully, Vae peeled back the paper to reveal a folded letter and a box of chocolates, the label embossed in gold. "Oh, how nice! It's from a friend of mine in the capital. She sends me these every—" She flinched, her lips curling. "Every so often." Yet she set the package aside without inspecting it further, then turned back to her work. "I'll tear into it later, when we're back at the Lighthouse."

"A friend?" Emmrich pressed, genuinely interested in learning more about the woman he loved. "She must be a remarkable friend indeed, sending you chocolates all the way from Antiva. And by personal courier, no less. That's a costly service. What's the occasion?"

"It's just a sweet gesture," Vae replied with a dismissive wave. "She's thoughtful like that."

Something in her tone gave the fervid necromancer pause. They'd been together for months—he knew her well enough to recognise when she was being evasive, dodging questions. As his eyes drifted to the unopened letter and neatly tied box of expensive treats, a thought struck him.

"Vae... today isn't your birthday, is it?"

She froze, then turned to him with a sheepish smile. "...Maybe?"

"What?" he gasped, his muscles tensing. "Why didn't you mention it?"

"I forgot," she shrugged. "We've been so busy, it didn't even cross my mind."

"Forgot? Vae, I would have—"

"Emmrich, it's fine. I promise," she chuckled, refocusing on the headstone in front of her. "It's just a day, anyway. No big deal."

Emmrich stood in stunned silence, his gaze flicking from the graves to Vae's overworked figure. Then, his jaw tightened.

"No big deal?" he huffed.

With a dramatic flourish, he raised his hand and wove it through the air, as if conducting an orchestra—and perhaps he was. Bones rattled in the nearby pavilion as the skeletons stationed there sprang to life, their fingers deftly strumming the instruments they carried even in death. Soon, a soft, lilting melody hummed through the Necropolis, haunting yet strangely beautiful.

"Emmrich," Vae squeaked, turning to face him, "what are you doing?"

He grinned, the expression handsome, dignified; then approached her with a polished bow. "May I have this dance?"

Vae quivered, pulling away. "But... I'm filthy," she stammered.

"Never, darling. You're radiant as always."

Her cheeks flushed. "And the graves—"

"Aren't going anywhere," he quipped, extending his hand.

Vae stared at the undead ensemble, swithering between disbelief and amusement. But when she looked back at Emmrich—and their eyes met—she sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You're impossible."

"Is that a yes?" he asked, his fingers beckoning.

"Fine." Defeated, she slipped her hand into his. "But just one."

"We'll see," he teased, gently drawing her into a casual waltz.

With his guidance, they moved in slow, fluid strides, the music wrapping around them like a spell. When he spun her, Vae laughed, the moment surreal, yet undeniably perfect. Though she lacked experience in dancing, Emmrich ensured she never felt out of place, his flow seamless and accommodating.

"Where did they even get the instruments?" Vae asked playfully, gesturing to the breathless band.

"They were donated along with the bodies," Emmrich answered excitedly. "Specifically so they could continue playing after death. It's a Nevarran tradition."

"Of course it is," Vae tittered, relaxing in his arms.

The world around them seemed to fade as he led her through the motions, his hand resting lightly on her waist, their fingers clasped together as they swayed in harmonious circles. The music played on, enchanting and serene—though, after a while, all Vae could hear was the quiet rhythm of their steps, and the steady, calming cadence of Emmrich's breath. His eyes never left hers, his gaze adoring in a way that made her heart skip a beat.

"Manfred?" he called after a while, addressing the curious spirit who lingered nearby. "Can you take a message to the kitchen for me, please? Tell them I'd like some strawberry cheesecake to go along with our tea time. It's Vae's favourite."

The bubbly skeleton nodded and clattered off, his bones clicking as he ran.

"What?" Vae stopped, her brow arching. "Emmrich, you don't have to do that. I know how much it bothers you when I—"

"You've been eating what I eat since our relationship began," he contested.

"You didn't ask me to."

"I know, but you have, even though I can tell it's been difficult for you." He shook his head. "Today is your day, and I want it to be as special as you are."

She opened her mouth to argue, but he silenced her with a kiss—deep, tender, his arms wrapping around her as if to anchor her in place. When he finally pulled away, she looked up at him, her cheeks glowing, pure ecstasy etched across her face.

"Thank you," she whispered, brushing her thumb along his chin.

He smiled. "Happy birthday, Vae."

[pacifymebby]

Christmas Morning

Congrats on 2k follows 🫶🏻

For the Christmas asks what do you think each of the Peaky Blinders men would get for their partners? How would Christmas morning look for them when they’re opening their gifts?

Tommy

🌿 I think for Tommy he's torn between feeling like Christmas should be a totally sacred day for family and family only...

🌿 the football match in the trenches on Christmas is probably something he holds dear and so he believes that Christmas is a day of peace and goodwill to all men... After many Christmases alone, Christmases of loss and sorrow

🌿 But he's also all too aware that not everyone else honours the day in the same way as he does, especially his enemies... so Christmas is a half and half kind of day to him, he wants to spend it with his family relaxing and being in the arms of everyone he loves, but he also knows he can't afford to put his schemes on hold, can't afford to drop his guard...

🌿 so he still sleeps with a gun beneath the bed on Christmas Eve and he still lies awake listening for the sounds of intruders, paranoid as he is... You tease him, "who's that for? Father Christmas?" And he lets you get away with your teasing because it's Christmas...

🌿 Tommy doesn't sleep well, but he knows half of the fun of Christmas morning for the kids, is that it's the only day of the year they're allowed to wake mummy and daddy up as early as they like...

🌿 so even though Tommy would usually be up at the crack of dawn, on Christmas morning he forces himself to go back to sleep, or at least to pretend to be sleeping until the little ones come bursting in jumping on the bed to wake him up..

🌿 he's usually so relieved to hear their little footsteps down the hall, and most of the time he wakes you when he hears them so that their jumping on you doesn't come as a sudden scare... Sometimes though he can think of nothing better than to let them make you jump... Because when they do and you squeal and get that little fright, it's the perfect excuse for him to wrap his arms around you and play your protector as he gathers the little ones up for cuddles too.

🌿 He probably pretends to have some order on Christmas morning, pretends he's going to make the kids wait until after breakfast to open their presents, but really he likes to see them be wild and excited...

🌿 he didn't get so many of these childish gleeful Christmases as a boy and he wants to give you and his children the loveliest Christmas mornings...

🌿 Tommy gives the servants the morning off on Christmas, he makes breakfast and tries his hand at remembering where he came from... Plus he enjoys the two of you getting to spend time together in a domestic way like that, with the kids sitting waiting impatiently for their breakfast.

🌿 he definitely thinks he's being low-key with his gifts, "oh that's just a little something from me angel..." as you unwrap a little box which rattled when you shook it.. and of course it's something beautiful and divine, something you can't believe was crafted on earth and not in heaven...

🌿 Tommy kissing the back of your neck as he scoops your hair up and helps you put the necklace on you...

🌿 he spoils you with so many pretty things, dresses, a silk kimono style dressing gown, glamorous and pretty things, pearls, jewellery but also does like to get you more low-key things, the thing he'd be most looking forward to giving you is an old first edition of your favourite book, your favourite poets latest work, a record, music he's seen you swaying with yourself to as you hum the melody.

🌿 and when you tell him he shouldn't have he just smiles, cups your cheek and leans in, whispers the words over your lips "prettiest girl in the world deserves the prettiest gifts doesn't she?" And with his nose nudging yours you're not about to argue with him. Him lacing his fingers with yours as the children interrupt jumping up onto daddy's knee to show him what father Christmas bought them...

🌿 After Christmas Lunch Tommy suggests a little stroll through the snowy gardens down to the stables where another gift is waiting for you... A beautiful horse which you adore... Her sleek black mane, her calm eyes... Tommy promises that this year he'll take more time away from work and teach you to ride.

🌿 I reckon Tommy's more devoted to the "father Christmas" thing than you'd expect him to be, I feel like he'd think it was really important, that's kids need that kind of magic in their little worlds...

Arthur

🍂 Arthur definitely gets quite flustered around Christmas, he worries that he can't think of the perfect gift, he begs and begs you to just tell him what you want, "really darlin please, don't care it it's expensive or if I have to go fuckin Timbuktu for it it'll be easier than this bloody guessing game!" "Arthur if I knew what I wanted I'd tell you but I don't..." "Please love!* You'd be giggling at his despair as he starts reeling off guesses and you keep telling him they all sound lovely, that he should just get you whatever he thinks of...

🍂 "but y/n what if I get it wrong!" "Arthur Shelby for the last fuckin time you won't get it wrong! You've never been wrong before..."

🍂 and the reason he's never been wrong before is that he really does just buy you everything he can think of that he thinks you might like, and sometimes things he's heard your friends ask their husbands for... he buys so much in the hopes that you'll like at least something...

🍂 But really all you want for Christmas is to be with him, that anything he gets you is perfect to you because it will be a sign from him that he cares about you and that he put thought into your gift.

🍂 he's always a little worried he's going to ruin Christmas in some way, he worries that he'll get too drunk or that he'll end up fighting with one of the reletives it guests... and when he's anxious and stressed out he'll have a drink... so he gets pretty merry on Christmas...

🍂 but most of those things he worries about are irrational worries... Arthur cares so much about the whole family getting together for Christmas because he sees himself as the head of the family, and he because he cares he tries really hard...

🍂 he's everyone's favourite flustered uncle and poor Arthur is unfortunately the kids favourite uncle to fuss around... they find it so funny seeing him a little red in the face going slightly crazy trying to make sure everything's going well... always asking you if you think the days going well, if the kids are happy... "look at em Arth, they're having the best time you dafty..."

🍂 He's so nervous watching you open your presents and you're kind of conscious of that so you're always making sure you're extra grateful and that you smile and say thank you for every single gift, and that you tell him he definitely isn't to buy you so much next year...

🍂 because apart from anything else you'd be self conscious about giving your gifts for him, because there's no way you've bought him as much as he's given you...

🍂 and so many of his gifts are so thoughtful too, there'll be a bottle of wine you'd tried to describe to him when you'd come back from a little weekend away with Ada, you'd been telling him how divine it was and how you'd love to drink it again (you were drunk when you were telling him about this) but you couldn't remember it... Arthur had gone to an unhinged extreme and visited the hotel to find out and then buy you a crate of the stuff...

🍂 You'll be really surprised by the levels of thought Arthur's put into your gift and when you stop beneath the mistletoe to thank him for all your gifts he'd cup your face in his hands and tell you that he wanted to make your Christmas perfect... "Was always gonna be if I got to spend it with you Arth..."

🍂 and then he'd get emotional, Arthur definitely gets a bit misty eyed after all the fuss of Christmas, because it's so important to him to see the whole family together, as a family... It wasn't like that when he was a kid and he's always wanted to give the family the kinds of warm happy Christmases they all wished for as youngens.

🍂 he definitely dresses up as Father Christmas for the little ones and brings in their sack of toys... Lets them clamber all over him and doesn't complain once even when in their excitement they're a little rough...

🍂 exhausts himself and falls asleep on the sofa after lunch, cuddled up with you of course...

Alfie

🐻 grumpy when you wake him up early... "You youngens spare no thought for us old men do ya? Wakin us up at the first sign of light over that godforsaken horizon just because its bloody Christmas Day..." you pouting, telling him you're sorry, trying to be convincing but he sees your smile and mirrors it

🐻 "No you're not..." he chuckled pinching your cheek, pulling you up into his lap and trapping you there, demanding compensation for the inconvenience of being woken up at such an ungodly hour in the form of s good morning kiss...

🐻 "This ain't what jesus woulda wanted darlin... Reckon Jesus yeah much like myself right, was probably quite fond of a little shut eye, yeah I reckon he was you know..."

🐻 but of course its mostly just an exaggerated act he's pulling, and mostly he's only grumbling so much because he loves the sound of your giggling, loves the way your laughter leaves you wriggling in his lap trying to escape him when he starts grumbling again...

🐻 he will force you to lie back down, your head on his chest whilst he gets a little extra sleep. He kisses your forehead and tells you to go back to sleep too... "Got a big day ahead of us my little ziskeit, an I wouldn't want my pretty poppet wearing herself out before she's even had her breakfast right... So me and you yeah, we're gonna lie here just a little bit longer right... And I know you can manage waiting right because I happen to know you're a very good, very patient girl... Ain't you ziskeit?"

🐻 Alfie drags Christmas morning cuddles out for as long as possible and insists that all presents are opening in bed... If you've got little ones they drag their stockings into the bedroom and climb up into bed with mum and dad to open their presents too.

🐻 Alfie would have quite a low-key chilled out Christmas I think, you'd have lots of cute little personal family traditions (like the aforementioned opening presents in bed). He'd want there to be as little fuss as possible and a quiet but cosy Christmas by the fire would suit him best ...

🐻 that being said he always tries so hard to be charming and polite when your parents come over for christmas lunch...

🐻 he can't get down on the floor to play with the children so instead he sits in his arm chair and invites them up to play in his lap, letting them make their toy horses and soldiers climb up his left arm, conquer his right shoulder in battle and then claim victory over all on top of his head.

🐻 has a deadly sweet tooth and eats more dessert than Christmas dinner...

🐻 you mix Christian and Jewish traditions on Christmas day and Alfie spends a lot of time in the kitchen with you on Christmas Eve preparing babka and other treats from his own cultural background to share with the family...

🐻 modern Alfie would absolutely threaten deal or death on anyone who even considered reading a christmas cracker joke to him...

🐻 he spent the run up to Christmas being a big mard arse, threatening you with the naughty list every time you said no to him or didn't do as he'd asked. Whenever you were cheeky or sarcastic with him he'd told you you he wasn't bothering with gifts this year, telling you not to bother getting him anything...

🐻 But of course Alfie would never neglect his little ziskeit and come Christmas morning you're unwrapping the loveliest gifts from him... mostly music... the best gift Alfie has bought for you however can't be unwrapped and certainly can't be given to you in bed... it's waiting downstairs in the lounge... a new piano with the most gorgeous intricate design engraved in the body.

🐻 Alfie is terrible for spoiling the kids far too much too... Every year you end up getting them more and more between the two of you, but that's because for as cynical as Alfie is about the whole Christmas ordeal as he calls it, he does know the joy it brings to children and he does believe wholeheartedly that children should be able to have perfect happy childhoods.

John

🌼 Christmas with John is chaotic from the second the sun rises to long after it has set...

🌼feral children everywhere, and one adult man who isn't much better.... John loves to see the children excited and so he'll do anything to feed the fire, ramping up the excitement at any opportunity...

🌼 definitely a chocolate for breakfast household...

🌼 but before the sun rises, before the kids wake up and start shaking the house down... You're woken up by John, his arms wrapped around you, nuzzling into your hair, kissing your neck from behind you...

🌼 because it might be Christmas but he isn't sacrificing cosy, sleepy morning sex for anything and this his own special way of wishing you a merry Christmas...

🌼 so when the kids come bursting into the bedroom you're already awake, cuddled up with John making the most of the last few moments peace before the big day really starts.

🌼 And once the children are up that it, you're both being dragged down the stair to the living room where the children's stockings are full of treats and toys galore... And John's gifts to you are much the same

🌼 John buys you gifts which bring out your inner child, your favourite sweets, dancing frocks and feather hair bands to match... Chocolates too.

🌼 the best gift of all however arrives in an excited bundle of fluff and fur... A bright eyed puppy John had been keeping hidden in the kitchen, a gift not just for you but all the family... The children are over the moon, all shouting names to call her, and you're overjoyed too.

🌼 There's music on the gramophone and John's been mixing you Christmas cocktails since breakfast time, he dances you around your living room and picks your daughter up to dance with you too. Letting the kids dance with their feet on his feet, playing all sorts of silly Christmas games with them too. John is the life and soul of Christmas and there isn't a second goes by without laughter and general merriment on Christmas when John is around.

🌼 trying to gather the children (including John tbh) up to visit his brother's at Arrow House is a nightmare and you definitely all arrive late to Christmas lunch... Not that anyone was expecting you all to be on time... John and the children put the feral in festive?

🌼 He drives Tommy insane all day and you finally get a little peace and relief sipping gin by the fire with Ada and Polly.

🌼 And John definitely still makes time for you, stealing you away when the children are worn out from playing all day. Everyone's a little sleepy in the afternoon, even the puppy is dozing by the fire. John catches your hand and steals you away to a shadowy corner of the house to steal a Christmas kiss from his very own Christmas miracle.

Bonnie

🍀Going to bed on Christmas Eve, the smell of smoke from the fire, cinnamon and citrus from the little garlands of oranges and holly sprigs that you made and hung up around the vardo... In the morning when you wake there's fresh frost on the window and you can feel the chill in the air...

🍀so you snuggle in closer to Bonnie and he wraps his arms around you a little tighter than before. Youre cuddled up together beneath layers of blankets, listening to the birds outside, the hush of Christmas morning before the children wake up... with your eyes closed you're just enjoying being wrapped up together in the arms of your love...

🍀his scratchy morning voice and lilted accent as he kisses your cheek, nuzzles in closer and says "merry Christmas little dove..." "merry chrismas Bon." You whisper against his neck, your breath tickling him as you press a kiss to his skin.

🍀Christmas day is always busy and a little chaotic at the camp, many families all gather together for a huge celebration, which means brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents and old friends all gathered together with a fire and feast... Children running round with their new toys, snowball fights, all the little girls making snow angels and getting little ice crystals in the tangles of their long wild hair.

🍀And one day Bonnie can't wait to watch his own children running around all rosy cheeked on Christmas morning, scoffing chocolates and treats from father Christmas...

🍀but for now it's just you and him wrapped up snug and warm inside, sharing a little peace and tranquility before the chaos of Christmas

🍀Your stockings would be quite small, humble little things, but you'd have filled them with sweet little gifts, many of them handmade, for one another.

🍀You have carved bonnie a gorgeous new knife, it's engraved beautifully with little woodland vines along the handle. He's really pleased with it. And Bonnie has carved you something just as beautiful, a hair slide adorned with dried white flowers... It takes your breath away. Bonnie's gifts would be a mixture of practical and pretty....

🍀And because he has big dreams of wealth and riches Bonnie would have saved all the money from his boxing winnings to buy you something stunning and expensive... Something he definitely shouldn't have bought you! A necklace or a set of earrings made with your birthstone.

🍀 Bonnie would definitely get very broody and sentimental at Christmas, especially after a drink and having spent a lot of the day looking after some of the youngens. You'd be feeling the same too after watching him teach the younger lads to box, watching him dance with your younger sister around the fire and give her piggy backs when she's tired.

🍀And he'll want to dance with you too, there'll he no escaping him and you won't be able to keep the smile off your face when he's swaying you slowly to a softer Christmas song. He'd be singing it softly to you as you danced.

Isaiah

🐀 After a wild Christmas Eve you'd both be very tired and perhaps a little hungover... So you'd wake up tangled between the sheets together, sore heads and sleepy eyes... And that's where you'd stay for as long as possible.

🐀 you wouldn't have any Christmas commitments until it was time for Christmas dinner with Isaiah's father so you would drag the morning out in bed with a cup of tea, both of you feeling lazy...

🐀 When you finally wander downstairs you'd both be wearing Isaiah's pyjamas, him wearing the bottoms and you wearing the top. You'd sit together under a blanket to exchange gifts by the tree...

🐀 Deciding to cure your hangovers with another drink

🐀 luckily for you Isaiah has gifted you a cocktail shaker and set so you can mix up a cure for your Christmas morning hangover.

🐀 he's also bought you some truly gorgeous lingerie, red and lacy and he can't wait to see you in it later...

🐀 It would be quite a relaxed Christmas, you'd probably just about manage to be on time to Christmas Lunch, just about manage to look presentable and hide your hangovers from your parents.

🐀 Cheeky kisses under the mistletoe at every opportunity, you having to remind Isaiah to behave himself in front of your parents... He gets amusingly shy about having to wear a party hat on his head and take his turn in charades... He's actually blushing!!

🐀 You'd end up reengerised by the evening and you'd be back down the garrison come the night to meet with Finn and some of the other Peaky lads, music turned up loud, dancing and getting up to no good. Isaiah knows him and Finn will get a bollocking from Tommy when he comes back to the city but he doesn't care, anything to impress his girl.

Michael

☘️ With Michael Christmas morning is luxurious, it's slow and relaxing but it isn't low-key by any stretch of the imagination...

☘️ Tea and breakfast brought up to your room by the house keeper. The two of you eat breakfast in bed, sharing a peaceful good morning cuddle beneath fresh white sheets...

☘️ You go downstairs wrapped in your silk house coat and you exchange gifts beneath the tree, the fire burning in the place, the peaceful crackling of smouldering wood a tranquil soundtrack to your morning.

☘️ Michael has spoiled you, he's bought you a dress which is truly divine, a beautiful shade of jade green, you know he wants you to wear it today... He wants to show off his riches and also his girl... It's probably an attempt at making Tommy jealous... And you're determined to aid your man in whatever he desires so you make a note to do your make up perfectly, a little extra smoulder to your eyes shadow, a little extra rouge on your lips...

☘️ He's also tries to spoil you with the most modern, trend setting gifts... A state of the art gramophone, a home video camera which you're excited to use later to record the Shelby family Christmas.

☘️ Then you and Michael take a hot, steamy bath together, relaxing in eachothers arms, washing one anothers hair, closing your eyes and enjoying the peace, making the most of it before you have to visit the rest of the family at Arrow House...

☘️ Michaels a little begrudging about having to spend the day in Tommy's shadow so you do your best on Christmas morning to stroke his ego and give him the self esteem boost he needs to face his older cousin...

☘️ He's also paid for a trip to New York, he's been many time on business but he wants to take you with him and spoil you, show you Broadway and the skyscrapers which have stolen his heart.

☘️ Aunt Polly meets you at the door to arrow house and takes you under her wing, introducing you to everyone else and stealing you away with the women to drink whiskeys in the kitchen whilst the men play with the little ones who are running riot in the snow covered garden.

☘️ Michael has to rescue you from them because he catches them giving you the third degree, trying to work out if he's going to propose, trying to work out if you're pregnant.

☘️ if he was planning on proposing I think Michael is most likely to propose at Christmas.

Luca

🪽 Christmas starts at midnight when you're attending mass together, recieving communion, you resting your head on his shoulder as your lips move sleepily to the melody of another hymn.

🪽 Luca is never particularly impressed by mass in England, he always scowls and shakes his head, give you an earful on the way home about how the English are all uncultured heathens...

🪽 you just shake your head and smile, stroke his cheek as he's driving, place a cigarette between his lips and light it for him, you plant a kiss to his cheek to calm him and he settles down, remembering that it's Christmas... a happy day, a day of peace...

🪽 Luca has always found Christmas time to make him a little more romantic than usual and when he pulls up the car in the driveway he lifts you out of the car like a bride and carries you over the threshold as if it were the very first time. Smothers you in kisses as you make your way up to bed.

🪽In the morning when you wake it is to his low husky singing, an old hymn from his homeland which sounds all the more lovely for his lethargic tone. He strokes your hair from your face and brushes a kiss over your lips wishing his darling a merry christmas...

🪽 He lights your cigarette for you and you lie back against your plush set of pillows feeling like a princess, and you look radiant with the Christmas morning light streaming through the windows.

🪽 Luca can't resist you in the mornings and finds it impossible to keep his hands off you, slipping beneath the covers to wish you a merry Christmas in his own special way.

🪽 When the children wake they're full of excitement, bubbling over with Christmas spirit as they drag you and their Papà from your bed to go downstairs and open their gifts...

🪽 Now of course the children have been spoiled rotten as always, new toys and enough sweets to rot their teeth in under ten seconds... But you... You're Luca's Angelo, every gift he's given you is addressed to "cuore mio" (my heart) and every present is more beautiful than the last.

🪽 he spoils you with classy gifts, a string of pearls, a new gramophone and a collection of your most treasured records...

🪽 but his main gift to you plays towards Luca's dramatic tendencies, his need to show off and shower you in all the adoration his wallet can give... In the driveway with a red ribbon tied around the body is a flash sports car just for you.

🪽 "But... I can't... Drive..." "Not yet cuore mio, but don't worry, you'll have the best teacher..."

🪽 tickets to the opera and the most gorgeous black velvet dress for you to wear when he takes you into the city for an evening of luxury and music.

🪽 Luca dotes on you throughout the whole of the festive period, he dotes on you normally but in December and early January he really layers it on thick, all day Luca makes sure your every need is attended to... He is always the one to top up your wine glass, always planting little kisses to your hands and fingers, using any excuse to touch you...

🪽 Helps you get ready in your finery to greet your guests before dinner, Luca combs your hair and helps you into your dress, fastens the clasp of your necklace and can't resist peppering your neck in teasing kisses...

🪽 He doesn't mind playing host to his huge family, it's an excuse to show off after all, but he tires of social interaction quickly and you can see him growing impatient as the day draws on, you stop to massage his shoulders beneath the mistletoe and then you let your kiss linger on his lips, "not long now tesoro," you remind him, "then it'll be just me and you and the children, you'll have us all to yourself..." "Trust me cuore mio that moment can't come soon enough..."

🪽 When you try to pull away and return to the dining room Luca drags you back for one last kiss and really makes the most of the little moment of peace he gets to have with you.

Aberama

🥀 There was a time when Christmas was a particularly lonely time for Aberama, a time when he remembered all that he lost when he lost Bonnie's mother.. he used to find the winter season to be a harsh, cold, long and lonely winter...

🥀 but with you in his life things are finally beginning to thaw out, he has hope again for the first time in a long time. Your sweetness makes him feel warm despite the winter frost on the ground...

🥀 So now Christmas is a time when Aberama finds himself feeling grateful, more than anything else. He finds himself reflecting on his life and how much his family means to him, finds himself reflecting on you and all the joy and peace you've brought to his conflicted world.

🥀 His favourite part of winter is going on long walks through the frosty countryside with you tucked up in one of his big coats, seeing your little head poking out of a scarf he's wrapped tight around your neck to keep the chill at bay, your little rosy cheeks, is one of the prettiest sights he's blessed with amid the grey of December...

🥀 On Christmas morning he wakes up before you to prepare the fire and to start brewing tea and preparing breakfast... You're a little younger than him and he has a tendency to dote on you at the best of times, but on Christmas morning in particular you look so adorable, so at peace tucked away beneath the blankets that he can't bare to disturb you...

🥀 so you awake to a slight breeze tickling your cheeks, the sound of fire crackling, the hiss of the kettle coming to boil... And when you join Aberama by the fire you're still hazy with sleep. He opens his arms to welcome you into his embrace and lets you sit between his legs on the floor as he carries on attending to the fire.

🥀 As the camp slowly comes to life and everything gets busier he keeps you tucked away nice and close to him... With his own children grown up there's a little less chaos around his vardo and so you are both able to watch the festivities from a slight distance... You know it won't be long before you're swept up in it all however, you know it won't belong before one of the little ones comes running to show you their new toys...

🥀 and so you make the most of the peace whilst the children are distracted by their stockings to exchange your own gifts by the fire...

🥀Aberama is a practical and sentimental gift giver, he gives you a huge cosy woolen jumper, one to keep you snug and wrapped up in the cold months ahead, new boots for riding and accompanying him on those long rambles through the woodlands, he's also bought you a new pony, shes gorgeous and your heart swells with pride at the knowledge he'd have needed to pull a mean trick to get you a creature so beautiful, the thought you're worth that much to him almost brings you to tears.

🥀 Definitely takes a lot of pride in preparing the perfect Christmas feast and he keeps himself plenty busy in the morning with some of the other men and women preparing a fine spread for everyone to share... Definitely saves you the best carving of meat and the best looking potatoes.

🥀 Honestly despite the fact his children have grown and that even his youngest is an adult now, I thinn Christmas time makes Aberama a little broody, a little nostalgic for the days when his own little ones were running riot playing with their new toys... You might find he starts talking a little sentimentally when he's had too much wine, that when he's dancing with you by the fire in the evening he pulls you a little closer than usual...

Merry Christmas to all of my lovely lovely followers I hope you've had a lovely day <3

@inalovesrabbits-blog

@cocoaflowers

@zablife

@jomarch-wannabe

@itsghostgirlyo

@marwwfairy

@toddlerbodybag

@everysage

@tommyshelbywhore

@kas3ylovesyou

@kxnnxy

@starrykitn

@call-sign-shark

@only-malala

@galactict3a

@darkcastle167

@liliac-dreamer

@impossibleheartflower

@mollybegger-blog

@vanhelsingsbigtoe

[luvbugwriting]

Hidden in the Rainfall

Starring: Photographer!Reader and Racer!Rafe

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood and violence (not between main characters)

Introduction. One. Two.

A boy staggered backwards, drawing the back of his hand to his lips. He dragged it along his mouth, spitting out a bit of blood. He said something to the two boys in pink and green taunting him. To the assaulters. You didn't hear it, too quiet.

Click. The lens shuttered, an image of the stand off now stored inside the memory card of your camera, just like all the others were. Dozens of photos now were stored in there, a button press away from viewing. Photos of scruffages, of two tribes on one island.

Now one of three boys in yet another scruffage will join them. Three boys standing in a golf course, two with golf clubs and one with boxes of rattling bottles.

You'd have many more soon, with this new contract. The first big job you'd gotten. It would fly you all over the world to international races. God, you needed this one to land.

The boy shoved the one in a light pink shirt, and the one in the green charged towards him, reminding you of an angry child whose mother had taken away his iPad.

You tilted your head, watching as the same story unfolded for the thousandth time—little boys playing at power and picking on the weaker.

Pink-shirt begun to yell rather loudly. Dirty pogue this, dirty pogue that. All very trivial.

The fun was short lived, however, when a cop rolled in on a green golf cart, stopping and stepping out. Hands on his hips, standing like a dad, he raised a disappointed brow, "Everything alright here, boys?"

You inched forward from your hiding spot in the foliage. Click. You checked the lens. Inched forward. A twig snapped beneath your feet.

"Shit," you muttered, ducking your head back into the brush. A shiver traveled up your back, goosebumps trailing your skin as you felt the gaze of the four pore into you.

The officer's brows furrowed, stepping closer.

You held your breath.

A beat passed.

Another.

Finally, the man sighed. "Goddamn critters." He turned back to the boys, raising his brows.

"All good Shoupe," Pink shirt forced a smile. The other two followed suit. Green shirt threw an arm around the Pogue's shoulders. The boy clenched his jaw.

Click.

Shoupe, you assumed, did not appear convinced. "You sure Topper?"

Pink shirt—Topper?—remained smiling. "Yes sir. No trouble here. In fact, me and Kelce were just inviting Pope to the bonfire later."

Shoupe turned towards Pope. "Is that right?"

He forced a smile. "Sure is, Shoupe."

The officer looked between the three, as if trying to weed out any malintent. There was, of course, and Shoupe knew this, but it wasn't as if he could necessarily stop them without evidence. He clenched his jaw and sighed. "Alright. You boys move along. But if I find out y'all are planning something—and I will find out—I will not hesitate to put y'all in jail."

You watched them leave, slightly disappointed that you wouldn't be able to take anymore photos of the spat.

You dipped your head towards the upper lens, tapping the gallery button. They were alright, the photos. The lighting wasn't particularly good. Too bright. If only you'd been closer. Next. Shit, this one wasn't good either. Too much of a glare. Angle was off.

"You taking damn photos again?"

You jerked your head up, surprised to find the officer standing just in front of you. You should have paid more attention. Why hadn't you noticed him? Lovely. Now you'd have to charm and lie your way out of this all thanks to you not being a little more observant.

"Oh, get out of the bushes, I know you're in there."

You stepped out of the greenery, plastering a smile across your lips. "Hiya Shoupe."

He raised a brow, hands on his hips again. "Don't 'hiya Shoupe' me, missy. Did you take them damn photos again?"

"No." You answered immediately, twirling a strand of your hair.

"Really?" He deadpanned. "That isn't a camera in your hand?"

You paused. Shoupe is used to dealing with dumb teenagers, as evident from his obviously seasoned faring with the pogues and kooks from earlier. He knew them well enough to know he had to step in. Knowing that, all you need to do is play up the spoiled and rather dimwitted kook act. Besides, if Shoupe was going to treat you like a teenager and lecture you like one, why not commit to the bit? So, with the most annoyed tone you could muster, you deadpanned, "This is my diabetes tracker."

A beat of silence passed, disbelief crossing Shoupe's face. "Your—Your diabetes tracker?"

"Yep."

"Your camera shaped diabetes tracker?"

You blinked, then laughed. "Oh Shoupe, haven't you ever heard of Amazon? Ordered it customized and everything. I was going to bedazzle it too but... Oh, you know how it goes."

Shoupe blinked, jaw slightly opened. He squeezed his eye shut, hand coming up to rub his temple. He opened his mouth to speak, interrupted by someone over the police radio. He paused, listening in, then lowered it. "I'm going to pretend that this whole thing didn't happen, but you better find a new hobby."

"Well for one, diabetes isn't a hobby. And two, taking photos isn't illegal."

"No. But it is if it interferes with my job, and I am allowed to confiscate that. So find a damn hobby. A new one."

You stilled, fingers freezing on the camera. "Confiscate?" Your voice came out quieter this time, less sure of yourself. Your smile was gone now.

He nodded, appearing almost as bored as you were nervous. "Yes. Confiscate."

"Like forever?" It was shakier this time, even as you fought to cover it with indifference.

He ran a hand over his face. "No, kid. Not 'like forever'. Look just—just stop with the damn photos,"

When Shoupe turned to leave this time, you didn't stop him. Just watched, one holding the camera a little too tightly, and the other pawing your necklace.

"People are always watching, girl. So never let them see your flaws." Your mother had once told you. And she was right about that. People were always watching. You certainly watched other people for their tells. So you raised you chin and set your shoulders back. You let a mask of indifference fall on your face, an easy smile on your lips.

Your fingers twitched, itching to take another photo. And had you known the events that would follow, perhaps you would have. But alas, you do not possess that ability nor did you take a photo, despite the ache in your bones, the whispers in your mind that begged you too. That begged you to document your melancholy existence on this little planet.

Later, when the sun had disappeared to the other side of the world, and the stars had begun to dance across the great, dark blue, you sat on the curb of the empty sidewalk of a gas station, looking up.

People like Kelce and Topper were too running a hand through their gelled hair and picking fights with pogues to bother looking up. Everyone was too busy performing. You'd think they'd notice how clear, how beautiful the sky was. But they didn't. So you did. You looked up because someone had too, right?

It wasn't like this anywhere you'd lived before. All those big and bright cities, trying to attract as many people as it could. Like a moth to a flame.

But the problem with moths is that they don't recognize the danger of the brilliant flame until it's too late. Similarly, people like Topper don't recognize the danger of conformity, of cities until they're too far gone to escape. But people like you were different. You flocked to cities because you did see the danger. You saw the danger and deep inside, there's a part of you that found solace in the chaos of it all.

Clang.

You flinched and teeth dug into your lip, your eyes darting toward the sole person around. A man, buzzed hair and a thick leather jacket, muttering and filling up his bike. He'd likely banged the gas nozzle on something, which caused the noise. You rested your chin in your hand, watching, eventually taking your camera out of your bag.

Click. You zoomed in close to him, examining him through the lens.

He was handsome, you supposed. He was handsome in the way that girls love and guys spend so long trying to become. He was handsome in the way that made you nervous. Prettiness gave people power. And power is dangerous if you're not the one holding it.

He didn't look like Topper did. He was kook, noting the bike and the jacket, but he wasn't wearing the entitled golfer dress code the others seemed to live by. His buzz was longer, unkempt, whilst Topper's hair was immaculate, like he'd spent hours perfecting it. He looked like he didn't give a shit.

His clothes weren't unkempt, necessarily, but he didn't appear to have hired someone to pick all stray pieces of lint or dirt off like Kelce had. Kelce's clothes were too clean for the Outerbanks. No wrinkles, no faded colors. Brand new, straight from the rack, clothing.

His clothing was more on-brand with the OBX, you supposed. Jeans and a simple blue T, a leather jacket, and a gold watch to top it all off.

You tilted your head, examining him further like you'd done half the people on the island. Shoupe liked him, you gathered, or at least tolerated him. He's the type to get away with things. His shiny credit card and gold watch, his unkempt attire, all screamed rich boy. Kook.

Kooks got let off with a warning that meant nothing. Pogues got let off with a warning that meant fuck up again, and I'll send you to the mainland for real processing or no warning at all.

A shadow flickered in the light of the upper lamp. The man from the gas station, you assumed. Paying for it. He'd be gone in a few minutes.

You lowered your camera, fingers finding the gallery button once more. You clicked through them with the arrows. They were better than the ones on the golf course.

"Hey,"

You pressed the arrows again, brows furrowing down at the most recent one. It's better, you told yourself, chewing your lip. The lighting's a little off though. Not to mention a bird was flying to close to the camera and it didn't focus on him. "Goddammit." You whispered.

"You. With the camera."

Slowly, you lifted your head.

The man walked towards you, broad shouldered and narrow waisted. He had his hands in his jacket pocket. "You always take photos of people?"

You blinked, slightly caught off guard—something that you were quick to cover up. "You always dress like that?"

His brows furrowed. "What does that have to do with you taking photos of me?"

"It doesn't. It's just very..." You grasped for a metaphor. "Outsiders. Very Greaser. Very Dally."

His brows narrowed. "Yeah? Who are you supposed to be then, Cherry? With your little soc get up?"

You didn't understand why he humored you, but you almost smiled nonetheless. "I'm a soc? That's funny coming from a kook."

The man's lips twisted upwards in what you imagined was supposed to be a smile, but it wasn't friendly like they're supposed to be. It was too practiced. "You new here? You don't look like a pogue."

You weren't dumb enough to think that charm could solve every problem. But hell, it sure could solve a lot. And even if everyone's different and unique and all that kind of underpaid guidance counselor bullshit, deep down, they really weren't all that special. Everyone had a type, whether they knew it or not. Not just physical attributes, but personality too.

Most men loved the ditzy and dumb kind of girls and you were really good at that one. But you'd already ruled that out with the Outsiders reference. And you couldn't do the classic mysterious, 'woe-is-me' persona. Not after the confident way you'd spoke to cover up your momentary surprise. They loved that one though. Men like to save girls. They liked the damsel in distress narrative, especially if the damsel put up a little bit of a fight to make them feel good about themselves.

'Manipulation is bad' blah blah blah so what? Your masks kept you safe and anyone who says you're a bad person for protecting yourself has never been forced into that position.

Then, deciding, you let a bratty smile fall on your lips and you crossed your arms. You started up at him, one hand drifting up to paw your necklace. "Maybe. Maybe not."

His brows furrowed and his smile changed, his eyes scanning you. His next words were a bit slower, like he was trying to figure out what had changed. He glanced down at the camera. "Just delete the fucking photo, yeah? Fuck knows I don't need any goddamn journalist wannabe's tryna photograph me."

You lost the smile as quickly as it had appeared. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Journalist wannabe. So just delete the photo and leave the journalism to the professionals, yeah?"

You clenched your jaw. "I'm not a journalist, I'm a photographer. A photographer that just got signed to a really big company for a super exclusive job that you couldn't even dream of."

"Oh, big fucking deal." He sighed. "Look, just delete the photo, alright? I don't-"

"No."

His eyes darkened, arms crossed. "No?" A humorless laugh fell from his mouth. He shook his head. "Whatever. Goddamn journalist. Always wanna photo of the racer."

You watched as he stalked off to his bike, eyes narrowed and arms crossed.

"Asshole." You muttered as he rode away, fingering hovering over the gallery button. On second thought, maybe you'd keep the photo after all.

[florencesf1blog]

idk if you’d be into writing this type of thing but i was hoping to see a step brother!carlos au👀

oh i’m open to a lot of things girl but i’ve never written for something like this so i hope it’s good🙏

——————————————————————————

your father recently remarried, which brought a lot of changes in your life. it took you some time to adapt, but luckily your kind step brother!carlos is here to help you out.

step brother!carlos who is all about helping his new step sister move into her new room. he carries the heavy boxes and helps to put shelves and closets together. what a gentleman! but really he’s mostly intrigued by the stuff you brought with you. to get a bit of an insight he’s all about helping you unpack, too.

step brother!carlos who makes sure you feel welcome in his home. he shows you around, tells you where stuff is and even offers to take you out to lunch to show you his hometown. isn’t he just a sweetheart?

step brother!carlos who often workouts in your yard, that just happens to be the view out of your bedroom window. you often catch yourself staring, especially because carlos can’t be bothered to wear a shirt. you think he never notices, because he never brings it up. but there’s a reason he keeps working out in the same spot.

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

step brother!carlos who comes to call you downstairs for dinner, but catches you doing something else instead. the sight of you fingering yourself should have scared him off, but the two of you think different. ‘go on then, cariño. show me what you do to yourself’. ‘i know you’re thinking of me. i know you’ve been watching me, too’. ‘i’ll help you cum, only if you cum to my name’.

step brother!carlos who is all about teaching you new things. he wouldn’t say he was disappointed when he found out you were a virgin (though it would’ve been more fun of you were) because he had other things on his mind. when you told him no man had ever eaten you out before, he was happy to be the first. ‘you’ll have to stay quiet, bebe, wouldn’t want your father catching us now would we?’ he’d tell you, though he’d make quite an effort to get some noise out of you. the way he sucked on your clit, the way his tongue lapped up and inside of you had you writhing.

step brother!carlos who doesn’t like to share. nobody can know of the things that take place once everyone else in the house is asleep. so when he invited his friends over, they think you’re up for grabs. and you, being the tease that you are, let them think that. obviously carlos couldn’t stand for that. he excuses himself and goes straight to your room. ‘what do you think you’re doing?’. ‘maybe i should stuff your mouth so you can’t rattle your mouth anymore’. he doesn’t waste any moment. his friends are waiting for him after all. you take his cock, gagging as it hits the back of your throat at a brutal pace. after he came in your mouth, he leaves you disheveled in your room.

——————————————————————————

kind of a scrap cause idk how i feel about this and i haven’t done this in a while. lmk what you think!

want more step brother!carlos or have other ideas? leave them behind in my inbox!

[thealexchen]

What do you think will happen in Tape 2? I think, based on the trailer and the reminiscing flashbacks, we're gonna do something to Corey's bike, by keying it, or choosing to do something worse, and then he'll burn the hideout as payback and cause a forest fire. I feel like we might get a choice that determines what happens to Corey. Like, do we save him, or let him die in the fire? Also, I'm curious what could be in the box. If it turns out to be a head, I am gonna scream.

I don't think it's a head!! 😂 It's the size of a shoebox and you can hear something small rattling around inside if you turn the box around. If anything, it might be Swann's VHS tapes of that summer or her old camcorder. I don't do a lot of theory crafting, so just bear with me here.

From the reveal trailer, we definitely know Fawn's Rest/Curse will sadly burn down at some point. The group in 2022 speaks about it in the past tense in a way that implies it's not there anymore, and Swann also implies she "lost" a lot of her sentimental items before she moved like they were destroyed instead of simply misplaced, and a lot of those items were in the cabin.

Given DN's track record (like Nathan and Victoria), Corey and Dylan are likely red herrings. This game might not have a main antagonist at all, with its pacing and smaller cast of characters. More likely, the fire could've been an accident, since there's a prominent fireplace in the cabin, and it spread into the forest.

Alternatively, Kat could start a fire at the ranch out of anger at her family-- maybe her beloved fawn Gertie was killed, or the Abyss is affecting her mental state. All the girls' eyes glow purple the day after they see and throw something into the Abyss, and it seems to be strengthened by anger and hate, given how the purple glow shows up on Corey's face and he seems to become physically hurt and feel threatened by them enough to leave the scene.

In the very beginning of the game, the girls are running for their lives from a person in a wolf mask. I think that's most likely Corey. If he's a red herring, either it's a prank gone wrong, or the Abyss is affecting him.

Some other theories I've seen mostly on Reddit:

You as Swann have to make some big choices during the fire, and her appearance in 2022 could be choice-determinant (a possible reason why all her 2022 scenes are in first-person. Like, maybe she has burn scars depending on your choices).

Kat is trapped in the Abyss and possibly still 16 years old. Either she jumped in herself, or the girls made some insane trade to keep her alive and healthy.

Kat is in the Abyss and that's why the group can't remember the summer of 1995 clearly

Swann got affected by the Abyss somehow and it altered her appearance or memories

Time travel/shadows theory: The freeze-frame shadows of various characters (discovered to be Swann, Corey, and Kat) are their characters across time. The person who says "Bloody Mary" back to Swann sounds a lot like... adult Swann. Could that be her stuck in a time loop or briefly sent back to 1995? Another example is in the last scene of Tape 1, when Swann, Nora, and Autumn in 2022 briefly see their teenage selves in the parking lot of The Blue Spruce the night of the concert. Swann looks down at the box, back up, and they're gone again. Stylistic choice, or did they actually see their past selves?

The fifth girl theory: Some Redditors have speculated that the Abyss affected the girls' memories to the extent that they forgot an entire additional person. The box says "I WAS THERE" and "REMEMBER 1995" and the game has a few odd moments where the camera is no longer behind Swann's shoulder but from the POV of someone else. Fake cameraman, or secret fifth girl? I don't think it's as likely for DN to introduce a whole new character at the end of the game when they put so much effort into characterizing the quartet, but it's fun to think about.

Kat sent the package across time

Or, Kat sent the package in the present day and is secretly alive

Dylan sent the package

Pam and Gus sent the package

Pam and Gus are the secret villains or they're involved with the supernatural happenings in Velvet Cove

The possible "fifth friend" sent the package

Nora isn't actually married anymore and she's putting on a front for how happy she seems (okay I know this one is much more lighthearted but I wanna see endgame canon sapphic middle-aged relationships! Please!!)

The game will not have a happy ending (it's Dontnod, but the game also opens with Swann either agreeing or not with her mom's take about happy endings at her book club)

Call me crazy but... I think the girls might be queer. But I'm not sure yet. /j

Thank you for asking!

[cor-lapis-candy]

I will die on the hill I am camping on currently and tell you all that Fontaine would 100% have basic sex toys and fucking machines.

Anyway, I want to put Neuvillette on all fours and watch him get railed by an inanimate object or well a fucking machine, so enjoy!

It was a gift from the warden, a little wink and a nudge written in the note that came with the delivery as the heavy box was passed towards you, instructions folded and bound neatly atop it in an unsuspecting booklet.

Wriothesley was nothing if not smug when you blushed as you read the title printed in neat black writing.

Wiring, spare cogs, bolts and everything else making a mess of the floor as you messed up a few times and had to redo the lines of wires that would make this strange gift work, now all you needed was your dear Iudex to come home for the fun to truly begin.

Offering to play new games of pleasure with Neuvillette was something new, something you had only just barely managed to get him to agree to. Sighing as you can already see the arch of his back, the sight of his cocks hanging hard between his legs as he rocks backwards into the feeling of your hands spreading him wide, while only partly divine it is still easy to fall into this daydream almost like an act of worship.

It is a dance and a half as he comes home, tired smile and soft hands cupping your cheeks as you coax him through a long and through bath, teasing away the idea of a calm night and managing to ease him into the very position you had daydreamed about.

On his hands and knees, a pillow cushioning his form and making this more comfortable as you begin.

The trust he has in you as you ease him open, fingers slowly working in and out of him, streaching and easing the way for something much bigger, much more filling and surely more rough than you could ever be with him. The slick shine of lube and sweat makes already glittering skin seem ethereal in the low light of the room, and the deep groans that follow as you pull your fingers free, sliding your hands up and down his back shushing the slight whine that follows you pulling away.

"Shh, shhh, honey I'll be right back, this surprise was a gift and I spent all afternoon setting it up just for you! Now sit still and be good for me, I'll be right back..." pulling his hair away from his back and out of the way as you teasingly run your hands down his horns, the messy kiss you steal as you finish up is worth it as Neuvillette is nothing if not a sight with cheeks flushed a deep red and mouth open as he pants, chasing more of your kisses.

"Now comes the fun part, you know what to say if you want it to all stop, but for now behave this is more for you than me."

The blunt press of the toy attached to the machine makes him jolt, rattling his frame and causing him to gasp, the mess of lube across his hole and the toy means you have to guide the head in, pressing down on the lukewarm silicon, completely entranced as the head slips in, shallow as shallow can be before the small switch in your hand lets you ease the machine to life.

The piston arm slowly worked the toy deeper and deeper into him, sinking to the base in a matter of moments, so slowly working him into the feeling of the mechanical fucking that he was about to experience, "Look at you honey, so pretty like this, such a big powerful dragon on his hands and knees getting fucked by a lowly mortal machine..." its easy to coo at him like this, sighing as you wrap a hand around one of his cocks, stroking in time with the arm fucking into him.

"Shall we go a little faster? Harder? Or maybe you want me to stop? What will it be precious?"

The machine is still slow enough that you can clearly make out the way he pants a shameful 'harder' and 'faster', letting you flick your wrist once more, smearing the dripping pre-cum along his shaft before turning the dial on the remote up, filling the air with hisses of air compressing as the toy that was fucking him speeds up, making him throb in your hand.

The tense muscles of his back shifting as he bucks back into the machine hips chasing the full feeling as you give the cock in your hand one more long stroke before moving back towards his face. Snagging a pillow for your own knees makes it easier to get comfortable, long since having stripped down and joined Neuvillette in nakedness, tilting his head up so you can see how his eyes are barely focused, hazy and lost as they look up at you.

"look at you big boy, barely started and you already look wrecked, Maybe I should find some more little attachments for this thing, keep you fucked dumb and pretty like this whenever I want..."

From the amount of panting he had done, Neuvillette's chin was slick with spit and perfectly positioned for you to press against his face, using the excess spit to slick yourself up more before pressing against his lips. Fingers drag through his hair as he presses forward, taking you with his mouth and laving against the skin, his hips twitching as he pulls forwards to pleasure you and making the machine press further into him.

The power for the machine would last at least another hour and a half, and there were two more speeds and one more angle that you could set the arm into, the night was still young and the look of your dear hydro dragon panting lips slick with spit and your own mess was nothing if not encouraging you to push him further into this new pleasure.

Perhaps Wriothesley would like a new tea set or two for gifting this too you...

[screamingintothestarss]

winner!

summary: you go to an arcade with crosshair

pairing: crosshair x reader

rating: 16+

warnings: light swearing, banter, slightly suggestive content, crosshair being a gremlin, light fluff?

word count: 3.1k

notes: so sorry for the lack of content, school is eating up all of my time rn but we ball regardless. enjoy!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“You coming?” A low voice drawls, its serpentine timbre rattling around in your ears. 

A carton of mantell mix is plopped into your hands, and you flash the vendor a pretty smile before turning to the voice’s owner.

“Thought you weren’t excited,” you quip, popping a piece into your mouth.

“I’m never excited.” It comes out flat and lifeless, but you know him better than that. Like the popcorn crumbs on your shirt, you brush him off and head towards strobing lights and neon signs. 

He’s like a shadow, you’d say: a silent protector–an assassin. He remained in the shadows so your light could shine. Wherever you went, rest assured he was somewhere nearby, keen eyes clear-cut and focused. You remained in his scope, and if someone else dared to come into the picture, he wouldn’t hesitate to take the shot. He took pride in it, silently puffing out his chest and putting on a show for you, and you loved it. 

Deft fingers snake their way toward the carton, breaking the shadow, and you quickly pull the box close to your chest.

“Nuh-uh, you said you didn’t want any!”

“Well, I do now,” he counters, a playful lilt to his voice.  

“Crosshair, you do this every time. You always say that you don’t want anything, and when I get something, then, and only then, do you want it!” 

“Maybe I just like you,” he drawls, and you hate how it has you reeling, stripping your head of all logic and replacing it with cotton candy and heat. You sharpen your tongue, but before your words can spear him, the carton of mix is plucked from your hands, and you groan. 

“Are you kriffing-”

A large hand digs in and pulls up a handful. He’s full of smug, lithe body craning down to your ear only to shovel it into his mouth, and then he’s crunching into your ear–loudly. Bleeding behind the eyes, you’re seeing red, and you shoot him a withering glare. He stares at you; your brows knit together and lips all pouty–he thinks he’s fallen in love for the fifth time today. 

You’re not having it. 

You shove his face away from your ear and try to retrieve your snack, but he’s dodging your attacks with infuriating finesse. You’re flailing around his lean form, arms swinging this way and that without avail. It’s almost like a game: you go left, and he’s going right; you step forward and he’s stepping back: going up? Well, he’s coming back down. Your simmering frustration boils over, and he laughs, the sound burrowing into your ears like a parasite.

This is the most fun he’s had all day, he thinks.

He activates his finisher: holding the mix in one hand and raising it straight into the air. You were done for. 

“I swear I’m actually going to kill you!”

“Mhm.”

Then he’s staring at you, and he has to keep himself from getting lost in your colors. He figures red doesn’t suit you though, and sets the box into your hands with a dull thunk. He stalks off, dripping with audacity, and you try not to slip on the puddles. 

“You’re such an asshole!” It’s venomous: slick and corrosive, but non-lethal. A part of you knows it’s all in good fun, but it doesn’t assuage the feeling of wanting to rip his head off. You stick an indignant hand into the mix, and your eyebrows shoot up.

It’s nearly empty. 

“Your mother’s a droid!”

He ignores your insults, a sly smile smudged across his face. His arms are loosely folded across his torso as he uses his side to keep the door propped open for you. You smack his stomach as you brush past him, and he laughs through his nose, staring at your backside as you fade into bright lights. 

A cacophony of strobing lights, sounds, and smells override your senses as you try to gauge where to go first. Familiar blue and white lights catch your eye, and you make your way over. 

You stand before a skeeball machine, setting your snack down to run a hand over its console. You’re about to lay a heavy hand on the start button, but realization hits you. 

“Kriff, I forgot the-”

“Tokens?” That slithering tone wraps itself around your ears again, and you swallow the annoyance bubbling up your throat. You lazily whirl your body around, and find that same smirk you wanted to wipe off of him earlier. He’s leaning against the body of a machine, little gold coins clinking in his palm as they shift. He’s devilishly alluring, and it's the effortlessness that has you perplexed. He’d be doing the most mundane of tasks, and it would have you fiending, your eyes tracing long fingers and even longer legs. 

Cool brown eyes slide up and down your frame, stripping you bare on the arcade floor. You have half a mind to smack him, a staccato tch tch tch snapping off your tongue, but instead you redden, the tips of your ears ablaze.

“T-thanks.”

He slots a coin into the machine for you, and the start button blinks to life. You turn towards him, a question waiting behind your lips. 

“You’re not going to-?” The words die in your throat as he gives you that look, and you huff. 

“You’re such a buzzkill, you know that?”

He tuts. “You’d lose.”

Oh. Oh.

So that was the game he wanted to play.

Crosshair loved to goad you on, pushing your buttons to see what made you tick. You both were in a constant game of tug of war, and he wasn't cutting you any slack. If this was the hill he wanted to die on, fine: you just had to pull on the end of your rope a little harder. 

You flutter your eyelashes at him and shrug. Fronting nonchalance, you lay your hand on the start button with a smack. Blue and white lights snap to strobes of rainbow, and balls dispense from the holder with a hiss.  

It's on.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You're moving like a well-oiled machine, gracefully rolling smooth little balls up the lane into little holes. 

75 points turn into 100, 100 quickly turns into 250, and 250 shoots up to 500. 

Crosshair stands behind you with folded arms, feigning uninterest, but the way you're looking right now chips away at that mask as your points rack up.

The timer runs down, and you get a few more tosses in before flashing red lights put you to a stop. A cheeky grin lines your face, and you saunter over to him, tongue slick with audacity. 

"Read it."

"What?"

"My score."

He stares at you for a moment and scoffs. That smug he'd been dripping with earlier was drying up, and you were loving it. 

Wordlessly, he strides over to the machine and cranes his head to peek at the purple 8-bit font. 

"25,000." The number rolls around uncomfortably on his tongue, and he isn't sure he likes the taste. 

Then you're at his side, laying an insincere hand on a broad shoulder. 

"Remember it when I wipe ass with you."

Your warm breath fans in his ear, igniting the sparks in his chest. His sharp eyes slide over to yours, oozing with challenge. He straightens, and the glow of the machine highlights that familiar glint in his eye. 

He reaches into his pants pocket, retrieving two tokens, the cheap metal slotted between his pointer and middle finger. 

"The bet?" And the way it rolls off his tongue has you short-circuiting. 

You don't break eye contact though, keeping that grip on your rope. You pluck a token from his fingers and the number falls from your lips with an enviable coolness. 

"One hundred." 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"Your balls were coming out faster."

"Well maybe if you focused on your own balls instead of mine, you'd have won," you snark. 

"Don't have to, you give mine enough attention already."

"Crosshair!" you hiss, a confusing blend of heat and embarrassment settles at the base of your stomach, and you're unsure if you want more. 

He's laughing again, and that bug in your ear buries itself even deeper, and you wish you could snatch it out.

He may have been down one hundred credits, but he'd gladly throw them to the wind if it meant he could keep drawing reactions like these from you. 

But you didn’t need to know that just yet.

He was having too much fun right now.

Your annoyance dissipates as wide eyes lock onto your favorite fighting game: Star Fighters 6. His gaze follows yours, and that smirk plays across his features again. You turn to him, but he’s already staring back at you, and he feels that familiar fullness in his skull; those flowers you’d planted up there all those years ago were beginning to bloom. 

He knows you feel it too, and he’s tempted to hook an arm around your waist and lug you through those doors, but you made a bet.

“Crosshair…” you say tentatively, debating giving in to that heady feeling in your gut.

He hums, your voice like a hook in his ear, and he’s being reeled in. He hears his name slip past your lips again, and he’s about to make a break for the surface until he feels something being shoved into his hands. He looks down, and you’d placed the mantell-mix-carton-turned-ticket-bucket into his hand, moving on to play your video game. Like the sun shifting behind a cloud, your warmth had disappeared, and he’d claw his way into the stratosphere to find it again. 

You slip a coin into the slot and tinny theme music sounds. It’s balmy and familiar: a blast-to-the-past wave of nostalgia that swaddles your ears like a warm hug. You never held onto your credits for long, laying them in the hands of some moody teenager for tokens in a heartbeat. You made it your own little mission: rocketing up leaderboards, dismantling high scores, and leaving some poor kid in tears. Times were a lot simpler then, so you kept the memory tucked close to your heart, eventually giving him access to that little corner too. 

“C’mon, let’s do this one!” You’re beaming, and Crosshair commits it to memory. He almost tells you to stop, wanting to cover your pretty face and lock that smile away for himself. Selfish–he’s selfish. 

He nods and slots himself next to you, his frame brushing against your own. You pay it no mind, your head swimming in the bloody waters of combos and finishers. The character selection screen blinks up on the monitor, and you click-clack away at blue buttons; selecting your favorite character and adjusting her stats like it’s second nature. 

Crosshair hesitates for a bit, the grip on his rope slipping. He’s like a fish out of water when it comes to stuff like this, flip-flopping around and mouth hanging open after you’ve knocked the air out of him. He was privy to what went on inside that pretty little head of yours: you had the advantage. He’d allow it, for now. 

He selects a character and does whatever with the stats before pushing a slender finger down on the start button. You don’t even try to hide the snicker tickling your nose. 

His expression is incredulous, a silent what the hell? that has you nearly keeling over, your knees knocking together. 

“Nothing,” you sing, and the melody has him suspicious. 

He’d picked the worst kriffing character, you thought. 

You mash the start button and your characters blink into existence, standing across from each other in some type of natural arena. Their stances exude battle readiness and you lock in, colorful lights fading into black and gray. 

You grip the joystick and jerk it to the left, mashing down on the buttons simultaneously, hitting Crosshair’s character with a lethal combo that has him floored. You’re merciless–decisive. If he liked to come at you with all teeth and fangs, then you wouldn’t hesitate to bite. Your moves are devastating; each one leaving his ego all bloodied and purple–but he’d patch himself up later. He wasn’t finished with you yet.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

To say you were shocked was an understatement. That tick tick ticking in your head comes to a full stop, a creaking and crackling of nerves that has you sick. You’re short-circuiting, a droid in disrepair, all of your bells and whistles are going off and Crosshair’s reveling in the chaos. The thought is like poison, something you’d use to silence some unruly senator. 

He’d beat you. And he cheated!

“You’re such a-!”

“Winner?” You want to grab that serpentine tone of his by the tail, wrap it around his throat, and pull. 

Your eyes flit to the monitor, its bright chromatic screen flashing winner, winner, winner! in the same shade of red you’re seeing right now. 

“You pushed me over so you could get the power up! I had you!”

“You would have lost anyways, your health bar was too low,” he shrugs, loose and nonchalant like throwing credits at a dancer. He’s staring at you, feasting on your reaction, and he’s far from satisfied. He’d pulled you over to his side, your feet skidding in the mud, but you had no intention of falling over.

You didn’t want to admit that he’d picked up on the mechanics rather quickly; what took weeks of memorizing a myriad of move sets and tactics for you only took a few rounds for him. You let the salt in your head settle in on the fact that he was a super soldier, learning and adapting quickly was in his genetic code.

It didn’t make it sting any less, though. 

“I want a kriffing rematch!”

“Fine.”

You kick his ass this time.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Tickets spill from the bucket, the papery material stringing down the container like vines on a tree. They sit up high and bouncy, and you try to gauge where you’re even walking by peeping through the holes. 

“You're sure you can carry all that?” He asks for the fourth time, and you have half a mind to chuck it at his handsome face.

“I told you, I got it-”

You collide with something firm and unmoving, and the bucket slips from your palms. 

“...sorry,” you’re muttering into his back. 

He turns and peers down at you with a pointed look. You don’t even need to meet his eyes to know that it’s there; you’ve seen it plenty. Whether you spilled something, tripped, or stumbled over your words, he’d either laugh or give you that look, a pointy silver brow and the pretty little corners of his mouth downturned ever so slightly. He’s steadfast; severe and unyielding, as Tech had once put it. He was stubborn, sure, but you’d grabbed him by the horns and steered him into your orbit. He was always there for you, like air to your lungs, he’d given you life. It didn’t matter how much shit you spilled or how many times you fell, he’d be there waiting, a rag in one hand and the other reaching out to you. 

He’s taken the ticket bucket from you now, and you pretend you’re not grateful. 

You shift in your shoes, that familiar ache bleeding into the soles of your feet. You’d both made a day of it, bouncing from game to game like that pinball machine Crosshair whooped you on. You both came to a draw, but the game was far from over. You’d pick it back up another day, you thought.

He feeds the tickets into the counter and that familiar crunch crunch crunching has your ears tingling. You peer over at him, your eyes rolling over the steep slopes and angles of his face, and you think maybe if you were some mathematician, he’d be a perfect object of study. He’s like your favorite meal, you think, you know what he looks like, feels like, tastes like, but you’d never grow tired of him. Never him.

“Take a holo, it’ll last longer,” he drawls, not even having to face you and your shamelessness. 

You’re snickering, and he strolls up, handing you a coupon for 2,500 tickets. 

“That’s all?” your voice is incredulous, dripping with suspicion. Surely you’d have more than that, considering how you both had nearly gutted the place. 

“Mhm.”

You blow, laughing to yourself. You weren’t one for the prizes: a cornucopia of cheap plasticky gizmos and doodads that crumbled like Tatooine sand as soon as you forked over your fortune. You figured a special someone would appreciate the gesture, though.

“Maybe we can get Omega something?” 

“We’d have to get Wrecker something too, you know how he is,” he says, and it’s that faux annoyance in his tone that has you chuckling.

“I know just the thing!”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Why’d you get two?” you prod at him, and he bats you away with a hip. Wordlessly, he extends an arm, holding out one of the cartons of mantell mix up to your face. Your eyes narrow, and you see a serpent tempting the unassuming, its tail wrapped around something forbidden and primed to strike. 

“You’re screwing with me, aren’t you?” The question is cautious, wrapped in suspicion with a pretty little bow of skepticism on top. You weren’t exactly too keen on having an instant replay of today’s earlier events–served with a side of embarrassment and a bruised ego. 

He shakes his head and a small smile splits his face; it should be something sacred, a rare jewel coveted by some royalty on a faraway planet, but instead, it has you narrowing your eyes even further. 

You reach a tentative hand out, and ease the box from his hands, ready for him to attack at any moment.

He doesn’t, but instead waves a white flag of truce, and you delightedly munch away. 

You both make your way towards the ship, the Mantellian sun making its final descent into the horizon, and Crosshair stops for a moment to watch you glow in its light. 

You’re perfect, he thinks, and he feels his heart melt into putty. It was as if the galaxy had compressed itself into your form, lighting a path his gaze could always follow. He chuckles to himself, remembering when he’d first met you, all starry-eyed and pure mischief. He’d readily admit that he found you rather annoying and cumbersome at first; like a raging Wookiee in a cantina, you’d made a mess of his carefully crafted space–a mess he slowly grew fond of. Like ringed ripples in a pond, you created movement within the stillness of his heart, and one day he’d pluck one of those rings from the surface and place it on your finger.

“You coming?”

Lost in the weeds, your voice pulls him back out again.

“Mhm.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

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