#just gotta get everything else organized first ><

[acefictionwriting]

Scout’s Med Bay Stay (TF2 Bang)

-Hi! This is my contribution to the TF2 Big Bang Event! Scout wakes up after being injured to find some new strange people he’s going to get to know.

Made with Artists

@ermg33 - here is their Art Post

@sicc-nasti - here is their Art Post

As the man awoke, he had no idea what was happening. He had no idea where he was, no idea what was going on, or why he was here. It started coming back to him, but before he could put everything together, the pain shot up his legs.

Ow. Right, the enemy grenades. Shit, I hate enemy Demolition bombers. What did you get yourself into, Jeremy? 

Jeremy opened his eyes and looked around, discovering he was in a med bay. The Scouting mission must have gone wrong, really wrong, since the other scout wasn’t there. He didn’t recognize anyone in the room.

“Ah! You are awake! I was hoping to harvest your organs, but at least the replacements worked!”

“What?” 

The Scout looked at the man, and he nearly pissed himself. 

Oh no, not the medic guy again. 

“Uh, I don’t—” Jeremy tried to make an excuse for the man not to get too close, but before he could, the Medic was pulling him up from the bed to sit him up. 

“You stay here Späher, I will get you the new medicine. You will make a great first test!!”

Jeremy didn’t have time to stop the man, nor did he really want to. He also didn’t ask why the American medic was German. 

His legs were still killing him, and despite the dread he felt thinking about everything that could have happened to him, he ripped off the sheets anyway out of impulsive curiosity. They looked perfectly fine, besides the fact they had been cut off and reattached and left a giant scar. That’s probably OK. He moved his foot to find out if they still worked and jumped up in pain. 

“He is brutal, but he always succeeds. Your legs work alright, Erreur?” 

Scout looked to his right, and a man he hadn’t noticed before was there. The man had a bandage covering most of his face and was standing in the shadows enough that the rest wasn’t showing. It sounded like he smoked enough to kill him twice a day. 

“Jesus, man, didn’t see ya there. Yeah, they work. If they didn’t, I dunno what I’d do. I’m a runner. I do the Scout work, finding out where the Germans are gonna be and making sure there’s no trouble. And if there was trouble, well, I took care of it.”

“You aren’t supposed to do that on scouting missions.”

“Well, I did. And that’s gonna make me a hero or something when it works out. Then I’ll go home to my girl, and she won’t be able to resist me!” 

“WE WILL GO HOME TO OUR WOMEN WHEN WE WIN THIS BLASTED WAR. KEEP AT IT SOLDIER. WE’LL KEEP THOSE GERMANS AT BAY AND—” 

Scout turned his head to see a man in full restraints on a bed, wearing an oversized helmet over his eyes. The Medic seemed to know this man and definitely didn't like him.

“Nein… not again. You are not a soldier. How do you get in here…” 

“I AM AN AMERICAN SOLDIER THROUGH AND THROUGH—” 

“You have a head injury, du verdammter Idiot.” 

Scout turned his head away from the half-shouting match, half-desperate argument. The bandaged man in the shadows had disappeared, which Jeremy thought was fucking weird. 

With nothing else to do, he pulled out his locket with a blurry picture of Pauline F. Pauling. 

She’ll like me for sure now that I’ve got manly scars and stuff. I’ll come home her hero, and we’ll get to kiss and— 

“MMMFF MMMH MMM.” 

“GAH— WHY ARE YOU ALL SO QUIET UNTIL I’M TRYING TO FOCUS?” 

Scout turned to the bed on his left, seeing the not-a-soldier and the medic fight in the background, and someone entirely wrapped in bandages in the bed close to his. 

“Jesus, what happened to you?” 

“Mmmhff mmmhb mffhh mmmmffhhhh mmm MMMFF mmmh.” 

“Ja, we don’t know who that is. Don’t even know what side they’re on. I’ve just been using them for my experimental injections. Beyond that?” The medic shrugged and resumed his argument with the American. 

“I gotta get out of here. We gotta get out of here; you gotta be real messed up from that.” 

The burned patient muttered a muffled something that sounded like a verbal shrug. They then pointed to the locket. 

“My girl? Yeah, she’s a real beaut, huh?” 

“Is that ‘your girl’ mon étrange collègue enfantin?” 

“OK, we’re getting you a bell.”

The French man sighed and stepped away from the shadow of the door. He stuck to the shadows and the wall, but stood next to the scout. Despite not knowing the man, Jeremy felt like a stray cat had sat next to him while not getting close to anyone else. It would be some sort of honor if the stench of cigarettes wasn’t so overpowering. 

“Écoute, mon ami, you have been injured. Is there anyone you would like to inform? This girl? Perhaps your mother?”

“Well, I gotta tell Ma about this. I bet Pauling would love to hear about me and my cool battle wounds now.”

“Right… I’m sure. I will get the communications officer.”

Even Scout could see the man just wanted to leave the conversation.

Why’d he look so uncomfortable? 

There was silence then, or as much of a silence as there could be in the overcrowded room. Scout never liked not being part of a conversation in a group of people. He felt left out. His brothers always seemed closer to each other than to him, so he was pushed out of conversations often, even when they did not mean to exclude him. Scout looked around the room. He supposed the same thing had kept happening in the army. He had had brief conversations with everyone in the medical area, but they all ended suddenly. He preferred the chaos of everyone popping up suddenly to the emptiness of everyone ignoring him. Jeremy looked over to the burn victim to his left, but they had fallen asleep, it seemed, as they made a cartoonish mimimimimi sound from under the seemingly infinite bandages. The silence was uncomfortable, but not uncomfortable enough for Jeremy to wake up someone with severe injuries.

“Ah. You’re no help.” 

The Scout briefly considered talking to himself, but remembered when he was caught and teased by his brothers for that. Ma had said they meant well, but even so, Jeremy never wanted to seem crazy. At least not in a nonviolent way. Instead of talking to himself, he decided to do what he usually did when he was nervous or unsure. He counted all the ways he was the coolest person alive who would totally live the most incredible life anyone ever had. He was on reason number seven (he had miscounted severely. It was the 16th reason) when the door opened again. 

“Hey, face guy! You’re back! Is this that letter guy? Make my injury sound really bad so it looks better when I go home. Hey, wait, there's two guys.”

The first man was tall and had an eyepatch. Scout thought that was awesome. He had a bottle of… what smelled like 100% alcohol in his hand and was leaning against the doorway, half asleep, half on high alert. Scout thought it best not to disturb this man until he became more aware of his surroundings. Instead, the scout turned his attention to the other man, with papers in his hands.

The second man was short and had other features that Scout immediately ignored in favor of the robotic arm the man had. 

“WOAH, ARE YOU A ROBOT?”

The man laughed warmly, as if he’d heard it before from others. 

“Well, I’m technically a cyborg,” said the man, with a warm smile, “and I’m also the correspondence officer until we find another guy who isn’t dead to do it. I’m Dell, but they call me Engineer most of the time.”

“Can I ask, like, a bajillion questions about the—” 

“No, you may not! But my friend here is gonna ask you a few questions before we get this letter written. Tavish, I think you’d better do the talking.” 

Scout had thought Dell was friendly, and he generally seemed to be, but there was a tone to the man’s voice that said another question about his arm would make him far less friendly. So Jeremy decided to do the most difficult thing he’d ever done, and be quiet as the Engineer stepped aside to make room for the hulking man with the eyepatch. 

“My name is Tavish. I’m a demolitions expert addicted to alcohol and explosives—” 

“Wrong speech, buddy,” said the Engineer encouragingly, as though this had happened many times before. 

“Aye, right. Ahem.” 

Tavish took out a piece of paper from his back pocket that was surprisingly pristine. He took a stick of dynamite out from the other, put it back, and looked around for something else. The French guy handed him a small gun as though knowing what he was looking for. 

“Right, thanks.” The demolitions expert shot the ceiling twice to gather everyone’s attention. He handed the gun back and took reading glasses out of another pocket. 

“You are all hereby requested for a special secret mission. The people hiring you will not reveal their names or the mission’s purpose, but we assure you that it is of utmost importance. You will be relocated to a strategic and secret area that may turn the tide in this war. Each of you has been selected due to the special skills you possess, as well as a general lack of morality. Also, we will pay you. We know some of you are here to be paid. We implore you to consider this opportunity and join our team.”

“Hey, where did your British accent come from there, weren’t you Irish or Scottish or somethin’? Also, yeah, I’m gonna do that. Can I tell my Ma?” 

“Aye. Any other questions?”

“Ja, will there be room for my experiments there? Also, mein vögel, can they come? I can go with du all if I’m not taken from my work.”

“Aye, your experiments are why you're here, and experimenting with test subjects is encouraged.” 

“Oh, then Ja!” 

Each person asked questions, but since Scout had already accepted, the Engineer gave him one of the papers to sign and started writing Jeremy’s letter on another paper that was not a contract. Jeremy let everyone else fade into the background as he told his mom and his girl all about his injuries and how much he missed them in the letters. He took a while to sign his name, struggling with the letters, but Dell was quite understanding. Jeremy decided that he enjoyed the Engineer’s company. 

The only thing that seemed off was the Spy. He did not seem excited about the contract, but he did sign the papers. 

Each of the men, now called The Teufort Mercenaries, were helped out to the vehicle, except for the burned one, who was driven in a personal ambulance since they couldn’t move. 

Scout wondered how they signed the paperwork. He wondered how his Ma would take it, with him being gone even longer than planned, but how much longer would it be? A week? Probably a week. Ma would be alright, he explained everything in his letter. She had his brothers to take care of her. He smiled, excited to drive off to a new, exciting, and important life. 

The Spy, Demo, and Engineer stayed behind longer than the others. 

“These letters, they will not be sent, non?” 

“No, unfortunately, we have to burn ‘em. Gonna tell everyone these guys died in battle.”

“What about ze medic?” 

“Oh, we don’t know where he came from. He just started saving lives by making abominations to god, and we let him.”

“What ze fuck is wrong with you all?” 

“Ask the higher-ups.” 

Meanwhile, Tavish was getting paid by a woman who addressed herself as P. He assumed that was because of her purple attire. 

“So you’ll take them all to the desert location, right?”

“Aye.” 

“And you won’t ask questions?”

“Aye. Not my job.”

“You’ll be perfect. Here’s the hundred. Go take them to Teufort.” 

The woman then started calling her boss and walking away, and Tavish walked away as well. He thought he had heard, “They’re out of our hair now,” but he did not question it because it was his job now not to ask questions.

They all rejoined the group in the van, everyone having been ignorant of their absence. The lively chatter continued as everyone awaited their trip to a new life. A life that was not the heroic one they had expected, but simply a way to rid the world of these strange people. 

[motherforthefamicom]

finally got the new desk set up in my room and cleaned out my dresser nd closet (had barely touched anything in there for Literal Years cuz of how much of a mess they were). feels surreal

[shockercoco]

A House to a Home

Austin Butler x reader

Warnings - some suggestion, lighthearted, fluff

Word count - 1926

a/n - request: “i don’t know if you’re taking request but what about the reader & austin moving into their first house together? reader is so hellbent on unpacking and getting everything out together but someone has other ideas” - this was such a good idea tysm! i hope you all enjoy :)

“Where do you plan on putting these?” Austin asks, looking over at you with a handful of your knick-knacks in his hands.

“I’m not sure yet, I’ll figure it out later,” you respond as you go to open up another box.

You still can’t process the fact that you’re actually moving in with him — that the two of you are owning a home together. The two of you have been dating for about a year and a half, and it was Austin’s idea that you move in with him.

He had just come back home after one of his meetings, and he had found you standing in his walk-in closet trying to figure out how to organize it. He didn’t even say ‘hi’ to you, he just blurted out the question, causing you to turn around and give him a speechless look. 

You were iffy at first because you’ve never lived with someone else after you moved out of your parent’s house – you’ve never even had a roommate so you wondered how it would be to go back to no longer living alone. You also wondered if the two of you were moving too fast. You were both adults and had been dating for long enough without too many problems, so it makes sense that Austin would want to take the next step.

But, that would mean moving into a large home in the hills of LA, where a lot of other celebrities and influencers lived. Did you belong in an area like that? Did you even deserve to live in such a nice part of LA just because you were dating a famous person, even though you yourself weren't rich or famous?

What if the two of you just happened to break up and you no longer had a place to stay?

Austin had seen the panic in your face and was quick to reassure you that you didn’t have to give him an answer right that moment. That you could take all the time that you needed and he would be patiently waiting for your answer.

How could you say no to a face like that, though?

You don’t say no, which is why you didn’t.

“And this?” Austin raises an eyebrow at you, holding in a laugh as he holds up one of the stuffed animals you packed.

You playfully roll your eyes before grabbing a pillow from his bed and throwing it at his head. Austin dodges it, though, using the stuffed animal as a shield.

“Put him down,” you laugh.

“Him?” He gives you a look. “Your stuffed animal is a ‘him’?”

You continue to laugh as you walk towards him and snatch the plushie out of his hand. “Why are you jealous?” you joke.

“Of course not, there’s nothing to be jealous of,” Austin snickers and goes to bend down to retrieve something else out of a box, but stops when he sees you toss the stuffed animal onto his bed. “What are you doing?”

“He needs a place to stay too,” you giggle as you walk into the closest to begin putting some of your clothes away.

“And he’ll find one, just not here,” you hear his voice say from behind you, but you continue your task.

You manage to fill up the majority of your side of the closest before deciding to take a break and move onto something else. Walking out, you expect to see the bedroom with more decoration, but instead all you see is Austin on the floor, going through your box of books.

“Have you done anything in the past 45 minutes?” You ask, your hands on your hips.

“Of course I have. I’ve managed to read one page from almost all of these,” he answers, motioning to the box in front of him, “and I gotta say, some of these are a little spicy. No wonder you’re always reading.”

Your eyes widen as you quickly take the book in his hands away from him, put it inside the box with the rest, and move the box out into the hallway. You’re an adult and you're allowed to read whatever you want, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling embarrassed because some of the books are really dirty.

Austin chuckles as he watches you. “You know, sweetheart, you don’t need any of these books as your source of pleasure, that’s what I’m here for.”

“That’s not what I use them for,” you mumble as you step back into the room.

“Oh, really?” Austin raises an eyebrow at you, and you roll your eyes.

“Y’know, while you’re so focused on me, you could use some of that energy to actually get some of these boxes empty,” you huff, standing above another full box of items.

“But I’m supposed to be focused on you, am I not?” Austin asks, tilting his head in full confusion.

“Ha ha, you’re so funny,” you tell him.

“Alright, alright. What do you want me to do?” Austin questions, standing up from his spot on the floor to look at the mess scattered around the bedroom floor.

“Stop taking breaks, and unpack,” you emphasize, shoving a box into Austin’s chest. He stumbles back, but takes the box from your hands.

You leave him in the bedroom, heading towards the kitchen for a change of scenery — and so you don’t strangle Austin.

The house is still pretty empty, except for some small things and decor. The rest of your furniture was supposed to arrive today, but everything got delayed. It had upset you at first, but hey, what can you do? Besides, this gives you a chance to fully admire the home before you completely make it yours. 

You head into the kitchen to begin putting the dishware and kitchenware up where they belong. Surprisingly, the majority of it is Austin’s, given the fact he likes to cook, and you don’t really know how.

When you come across a mug Austin had bought you while he’s out of the country on a press tour, you can’t help but take a second to admire it.

You and him both know that you don’t really use them and that you just like to collect them because they look pretty.

Honestly, how did you ever get so lucky with a man like him? What did he see in you all those months ago when he had seen you on set? You were part of the crew, and that day Austin had been invited on set to meet the director. Of course, you thought he was cute, but you didn’t think anything could actually happen between the two of you – which is why Austin made the first move instead of you.

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t hear Austin’s footsteps enter the kitchen. You feel him come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder.

“You told me to stop taking breaks, but look at you. You’re in here daydreaming,” Austin says.

“I get to because I’m actually doing my job and putting things away,” you tell him.

“Hey, I did put some things away,” Austin feigns hurt. “What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” you shrug, placing the mug into the cabinet with the rest of the cups.

“Okay, let’s try again, but this time you actually tell me the truth?”

“Austin…” you sigh. You’re not really in the mood to pour out your feelings.

“No, don’t ‘Austin” me. Tell me,” he insists, giving you a light squeeze as encouragement. You breathe out another sigh as you contemplate whether you should tell the truth or not. When you take too long to decide, you feel Austin remove his head from your shoulder and turn you around to face him. He raises an eyebrow at you, waiting for you to continue.

You just decide to say, “I’m just in my head is all.”

That’s all you needed to say for Austin to understand what you meant. “Sweetheart, I’ve already told you several times there’s no need to overthink.”

“I know, I know,” you nod.

“Do you?” Austin asks, dipping his head down so his eyes could meet yours.

“Yes, I do,” you reply, giving him a soft smile to try and reassure him.

“Okay…” Austin squints his eyes, not completely believing you, but he decides to move on. For now. Then he adds, “but just so you know I have no problem reassuring you.”

Your jaw drops as you hit him across the chest, causing him to smile. “And since we’re both doing such a good job with everything, I think we should take another break. I’m tired,” he continues.

You playfully scoff. “Of course you are. How about you go rest, while I continue,” you answer and go to move out of his grasp, but Austin just tightens his hold on your waist.

“Why don’t you join me?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“Come on, baby,” Austin whines.

“No,” you laugh. You place your hands over his and try to pull them off of you, but again, no use.

“Okay, how about we do something else then?” Austin suggests, his voice getting lower as he begins to kiss the side of your neck.

“I thought you said you were tired,” you recall as you turn your head the best you can to get a good look at him.

“I am,” he tells you. You raise an eyebrow at him, already knowing he’s not finished. Austin then hovers his lips over the shell of your ear and whispers, “I’m tired of unpacking.”

You playfully shove him off of you, and this time he lets you. “Well, maybe if we get everything finished by the time the sun goes down, I’ll let you have what you want,” you offer, suppressing your smile as you move to the other side of the kitchen to tackle some of the boxes over there. 

“Y’know that is a good idea, but I have a better one,” you hear Austin say behind you, before you feel him grab your arm and spin you back towards him. A surprised gasp leaves your lips along with a giggle as your chest collides with his. “How about I just have what I want now?”

Before you could get another word out, he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, already making his way in the direction of the bedroom.

“Oh come on!” you shout as you're turned upside down. You don’t put up much of a fight, as you allow Austin to drag you away.

“What? I gotta reassure you that you’re what I want,” you hear him say.

Once inside the bedroom, Austin plops you down onto the bed. As you start to crawl back towards the headboard, he just pulls you back down by the ankle.

“You’re such a bad influence,” you point out, your tone light. 

“And so are you,” Austin smirks as he begins to crawl over you. 

Just as his lips are about to connect with yours, you place a finger on his lips as something out of the corner of your eye catches your attention.

“Austin?”

“Yeah?” his eyebrows scrunch in confusion.

“Why is my stuffed animal on the floor?”

“He wasn’t invited. That is unless you enjoy being watched, but I didn’t peg you for the type, baby,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“Ew, quit it,” you lightly give his chest a shove.

“Wait a second, I didn’t hear you deny it,” Austin raises an eyebrow.

like what you see? check out my masterlist :)

[plutolovesyou]

sometimes i'll randomly remember ellie's room is an actual garage. but she's made her space so cool and so her, that it doesn't even feel like you're visiting her y'know, in a garage lol. she'd love it when you visited, she'd organize her collectibles, kick all her strewn clothes under her bed, and make it as presentable as she could. but the first time you visited her, maybe you two were newly dating and the feelings and everything was all fresh and new, just blooming, she would be buzzing in anticipation as she waited for the knocks. she'd welcome you in and take a seat at the edge of her bed, fidgeting with her hands as she watched you walk around, inspecting the space. and when you asked her about a specific figurine, or what a poster was, she'd be over the moon excited to explain it to you. it'll be like, her eyes light up and sparkle, and she'd try to keep her cool and calmly explain and tell you about her favorite things, but the way you were looking at her in adoration, head tilted and eyes scanning her, made her stumble over her words and cheeks turn pink. upon realizing, you'd relish this, and pick up an action figure or something else from her shelf, and hand it to her as you move yourself closer to her, purposefully grazing her fingers with your own as you handed her it so she could tell you all about it.

"who's this, els?" "oh this one! she's one of my favorites..."

she'd explain and explain and even though you weren't totally knowledgeable about her interests, she would make sure you're paying attention and listening by glancing right at you, and asking if it makes sense with that familiar raspy tone in her voice we all know and love. and you loooved listening to her talk but to be honest with yourself, you aren't really listening to her words, but your eyes flicker down to her plump lips and you're mesmerized. suddenly needingwanting nothing more in the moment than to press your mouth onto hers. you feel your own cheeks heat up and reach to take the action figure from her hands, forgetting she's still rambling on about it.

sorry els. must do this first.

☆:quick drabble. nothing too fancy, kinda meh actually lmfao but i gotta make myself write something to fight off the writers block. i love thinking up random scenarios (feel free to request something, these blurbs are just the most fun to do i love em..and muchhh less intimidating than full fics lol, but i'll get to those soon enough) and this one feels decently canon i suppose. wish i could visit ellie's garage fr...

[bloodiedrogue]

EASY DAYS AHEAD

SUMMARY: Astarion's not used to feeling cared for. Luckily though, you're as caring as they come.

PAIRING: Astarion & Gender Neutral Reader

WORD COUNT: 1,925

WARNINGS: Astarion's POV, 18+ sexual content, oral sex (male receiving), body worship if you squint, CONSENT!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, consent is incredibly sexy. That's all I gotta say. Also that I'm pretty sure I was possessed by something because I wrote this in literally an hour and a half???

MASTERLIST

-

Astarion doesn’t deserve the care that goes into loving him. With nothing more to offer than a broken mind wrapped in precious, tainted silk, it’s hard to wrap his head around the tenderness. Specifically the feeling of your skin, trailing patterns down his spine —painting fresh images over the scars that line his back as you praise him for his efforts. 

Your voice sounds wrong in his ears. Every word distorting. All the syllables jumbling up in ways that make him narrow his eyes, staring through the darkness of the tent at nothing in particular. 

“You okay?” you ask, and even now, weeks after your first night spent together, he has to muster up everything he’s got not to break down in front of you. 

“I’m fine, darling.” 

His lips always pull in that liar’s grin, ripping through his face like knives. Slicing the inside of his cheeks each time his fangs bite down on the wet flesh inside. 

He has to force himself to look at you. To stare at the exhausted smile that slowly shifts to a frown, showcasing your insight. How you know he’s lying before he can even elaborate on why he’s fine or how you shouldn’t worry about him —he’s a creature of the night after all. 

Pressing fully against him, he hears you click your tongue and shake your head as if scolding him. “What do you need?” 

Each time you pose that same question he feels like dying. Despite the fact his heart no longer works like yours —despite the act of breathing being nothing more than a habit he’s carried over from his deathbed— there’s a dread that coats his chest. Like oil, thick and slick, it completely drowns his organs. Suffocating his body while his mind and soul fight over what comes next. 

As the internal argument grows, his eyes always dart back and forth. One moment they’re locked onto your face, obsessively viewing each section and the next they’re anywhere but. In the forest, on the battlefield, back home tucked tightly inside the palm of his master’s hand —each night he travels everywhere, lingering in certain places while speeding through others, praying to all the Gods that never listened that he’ll make his way back to you. That just this once, instead of drifting off to sea, they’ll grant him the anchor he so desperately craves. The one that’s tethered to you and the solid ground beneath. 

“You still there, handsome?”

He is —sort of— depending on the moment, but instead of saying that he merely hums. Offering the bare minimum to the only person he’s ever met deserving of more. 

“Tired?”

“Incredibly.” 

You push your chest against his back and grip his shoulder, allowing your fingers to tighten around as you maneuver your lips to his cheek. “You should rest then,” you tell him afterward, but like always the words get pushed together. Morphing into something else entirely, causing him to narrow his eyes. 

“You’re one to talk, aren’t you?” he teases, watching you roll your eyes —feeling your nails tentatively dig into his flesh as a warning. 

“Shush. Don’t make me shove a sleeping potion down your throat.”

In response, he lets out a humorous huff. Then, his hands move to snake around your waist, pulling you on top of him. “Go ahead. I’m sure Gale would thoroughly enjoy such misuse of his wares.”

“My wares,” you correct, pressing an annoyed kiss to his chest, making sure to catch his skin between your teeth in the process as a warning. “I bought them from him fair and square.”  

Immediately, he grabs your chin and raises his brow. “Why the hells would you need a potion of sleep anyway? You already sleep like a corpse.”

You merely look away with a smile. All while rolling your eyes in that way that makes him feel like he’s young again. Freshly born into a world that hadn’t yet chewed and spat him out. One where the veins beneath his skin are full of warm blood, pumping through his system, fuelling the desire he knows he should have now that you’re lying against him, flesh against flesh. Beating heart against— 

Your lips press against his sternum and he swears they’re the most tender things he’s ever felt. Next to the way your fingers always seem to lace in his when you’re sitting by the campfire, they’re softer than any touch he’s ever experienced. Hungry yet restrained for his benefit, knowing it’s hard to feel like this. To experience the kindness of a pair of lips, worshipping a slab of skin so undeserving of such care. 

Each time your mouth makes contact, your eyes are always on him, asking for permission. Begging for consent. He’s never told you this but it’s the most selfless thing he’s ever experienced. Despite it’s obvious subtly, that look you give each time your mouth can’t help itself or your hands grow a bit too greedy, means more to him than life itself. More than power or revenge. More than freedom. Because that look requires worth. Value. An offering of submission he’s long since memorized. 

Each time it’s given to him, he has to compose himself. Otherwise, he might just shatter entirely —fall to the floor in a hundred tiny pieces not even you may be willing to put in the effort to fix.

Swallowing hard, he has to stare intently at your face, taking in the way you look up at him through your lashes. How you arch your brow just slightly upward, asking for forgiveness. Atoning for your sins in the form of restraint until he eventually nods, hearing your voice. 

You always ask out loud to make sure. An act that only further fuels his desire to feel you wrapped around him. To experience the warmth of your flesh tenderly pressing against the iciness of his. 

“Go ahead, darling,” he tells you, and for once, he means it. Truly. 

Instead of pretending like he wants this for the sake of a game, he accepts you in full. Watching you genuinely grin as you lean up to capture his lips, savouring the taste of his approval. Consuming the sound that absentmindedly passes through his lips as your hand lingers down, drifting past his chest and stomach until you’re pulling away to breathe. 

He can feel his mouth swell with need. The rest of his body following suit as you begin to descend, touching and kissing and biting —putting him through every sensation he’s gifted so many others. 

Leaning up to watch you work, he can see the excitement in your face each time he accidentally twitches beneath you. How the edges of your eyes crinkle with anticipation the moment you find yourself tucked between his legs, looming over him with heavy hands and breaths. 

“You’re beautiful,” you tell him then, and for once it means something. 

“You’re beautiful,” he repeats back, and for once it isn’t a lie. In fact, it’s the most honest he’s ever been, and secretly that scares him. So much so that he has to look down to see if you’re still there. 

Hoping that the sudden sincerity in his voice hasn’t scared you away, he can’t help but focus on the curve of your spine. How it starts low; your chest slightly leaning against one of his inner thighs.

Somehow despite the precarious position, you look perfect. Like a piece of art so carefully made, he can’t help but reach down and touch, revelling in the way you shudder beneath him. Sighing at the sudden desperation that erupts when you pull at the fabric against his waist. 

“Greedy, are we?” he jokes. 

Shooting him an embarrassed look, your hands continue to work his underwear down his legs —ignoring the way they catch at his knees and ankles. “I just really want to make you feel good.” 

The way you speak sends him over the precipice of ruin. Even before you discard the cloth and wrap your hand around the head of his cock, he’s already done for. Lost to the feeling of your digits. Fully enraptured by the heat of your breath as you lean forward and take him between your lips, coating him in spit. He has to close his eyes despite wanting nothing more than to look at you. Feeling the way your cheeks hollow out against him, he can already imagine the expressions of your efforts. All the time and care put in as you stroke him gently, maintaining the slowest pace he’s sure he’s ever experienced. 

It drives him mad with need. Bucking upwards each time your tongue drags across the tip, he instantly feels you push back. With a firm hand, you grip his hip and dig the pads into his flesh as yet another warning, telling him to behave. To just sit back and savour the pleasures he’s deserved rather than rushing through. 

He isn’t used to enjoying this. More often than not feeling like nothing more than a body designated for others enjoyment, he isn’t entirely sure how to properly relish your efforts. Or at least, in a way that doesn’t feel forced. Because he could do what you’re supposed to in this situation: touch you, moan for you, utter sweet nothings in your ear to further spur you on. He could do one of them or all of them, perhaps a mixture of two and still, it wouldn’t be enough to fully showcase the weight that fills his chest each time your mouth bobs up and down. How, as you begin to push him further and further into your mouth until he’s grazing the back of your throat, everything you do feels like the greatest gift he’s ever received. How maddening it is to feel loved like this even when he’s at his most unloveable.

Because that’s what you do to him. With the simplest of touches, you make him feel like him again. Like his mind hasn’t been shattered by the repeated slams of a sinner’s hand. As if his skin, etched by the knife of that same bastard, isn’t scarred. That instead it’s merely just skin. A grouping of muscle and tissue wrapping around his bones —a simple casing of flesh meant to be licked and sucked and pumped for all it’s worth until he’s gasping for air and uncontrollably shaking. 

And sometimes he feels like he’s earned it. During the easy days when he’s able to forget about his past and instead focus on the beauty that’s pressed against his leg, continuing to suck the come from his orgasm, it’s as if he’s on top of the world. Standing on a pillar of his past self’s hopes and dreams, he can easily look down at you with pride. Reaching down to touch your temple, he can feel the haze of your affections in full. The tremors of your possessive lips slowly slipping off, granting him a slick-coated smile that makes him almost faint. 

During those days he can smile back and pull you up into his chest, ignoring the ache between his thighs in your absence. Opting to hold you close. 

“Was that okay?” he hears you ask, and despite the question seeming almost juvenile, all he does is kiss your face. Starting at your forehead before moving to your nose and cheeks —eventually ending on your lips, he answers the question the only way he can. By showing you that, thanks to the care you foolishly offer, the days really are getting easier.

-

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo @jjfchk @idiotsatan @bluestuesday @bloopthebat @art-by-greenie @heneralmoon @sukunababe @dreamingaboutyousworld @ranfithegood @haniscrying @liadamerondjarin @the-lake-is-calling @marina-and-the-memes @rookieoftheyear @zraloci-cpr @kaetmo @snickerdoodle-daydream @wowowwild @d1anna @raswiet @conniesbbymama @venus-wrts @demonicthorns @kihten @sanscas @spammypasta @leighsartworks216 @rose-gold-blue @p1ssmagg0t @hellish-writes @ghostinvenus @otayz @sexysquatch @sleepyeclair @colorful-anxieties @alina-exe @lillifer @girlwiththepapatattoo @acelin-ginsberg @pinkuranium @catrad0rable @scarletrosesposts @qwnamidala @itsrosebabe @bunnyperi @queenofcarrotflowers-s @tatumadams20 @spkyxszn @chlort @f3v3rs @awkwardwookie @joy-the-reader @warm-milk-with-honey-blog @vertigocrime @iyis @wildpiper @pebblethestone @tillywasneverhere @bex-03 @revemiya @staticspouse @itzagothamcitysiren

(tags continued in comments)

[look-at-the-soul]

Every little thing you do- Part 7

Tommy Shelby x reader

Series master list

A/N:Sorry for not posting this part earlier! I’ve been sick all week but I’m finally functioning like a human again 🤭 you’ll see some references to what really happened in season 3, I just adapted it to this story. Anyways hope you enjoy it! 🥰 let me know in the comments xx

Word count: 3,964

Tommy felt his anger raising, but he needed to calm down and think.

Think straight, have a clear mind.

Father Hughes was the most irritating person on earth. He didn’t want him to be involved in his charity project, that man was far from being someone respectable and he only make him waste his time. Deep down, Tommy knew he must have a dark past, something that he did wrong… he just needed to find what was his weakness.

It was still early, but still he needed a drink. Taking a glass and a decanter, he poured himself some.

“Thomas.” Polly called from the door.

“I need you to take care of everything today, gotta go.”

“Where?”

“I’ve a meeting, will probably be back later tonight.” He took a long swing of his drink. “Arranged a meeting with Vicente Changretta, Arthur and John will be there.”

They needed to fix the relationship with the Italians, after burning down the restaurant. He already had enough trouble in his hands.

“Fine.” She looked at him intensely. “You know… I was talking to Lizzie yesterday.”

Tommy hummed unbothered.

“Has Y/N told you if Lizzie keeps pissing her off?”

“No. Why?” He moved to his desk to take a few things.

Polly shuddered, perhaps she understood Lizzie wrong, she seemed to feel embarrassed and refused to say anything else to her.

“She’s jealous.” Polly ran her fingers through her hair. “She thought Y/N’s baby was yours.”

Tommy’s head snapped towards his aunt. His eyes had closed in disbelief. “What the fuck?”

“Look, I’m not judging her, and you shouldn’t either.” Polly gave him a knowing glance, se had talked to the secretary and she seemed to be having a change of heart.

“She told me she’s willing to do anything to get you to trust her once more.”

Pondering on Polly’s words, Tommy thought for a couple of seconds. “Anything eh? Alright… she’s going to help us clean the mess she made.”

He’d try to push Lizzie’s buttons just to make sure how far she could go. The sudden change could’ve a reason behind.

Now it was Polly’s turn to squint her eyes. “What are you thinking of?”

“She’s going to break up this absurd romance with Angel Changretta. Very peacefully.”

“Isn’t that too much to ask?” She asked cautiously.

“Explain to Lizzie how life works, no matter what Angel says, he’ll always remind her of her past. If she knows what’s good for her, she’ll always have her desk available here as a secretary, but if she keeps this going, I’m going to be her worst nightmare.” He warned right before storming out his office.

First he’d stop by to pay Ada a visit, then off to the meeting with the Russian royalty.

***

Y/N thanked the two men carrying the last piece of furniture into the office, they previously brought in the small desk and chairs, the bookshelf and a file cabinet.

In the corner of the room, she kept a box full of folders, sheets and other office supplies she would distribute among the classrooms. Most of her days have been busy organizing the storage and after a while it seemed to be presentable.

“Miss Y/N Y/LN?” The gardener called, getting her attention. “Your presence is required outside.”

“Oh! Sure.”

The Shelby Institute might open its doors any moment now, she thought as she strolled through the long hall, her shoes clacked against the floor, the daily walks around the institute made her keep in a good shape, because her belly was becoming more prominent day by day, of course she got out of breath anyways.

“We just need you to check if it’s the right color.” Paul asked pointing at the wall.

Tommy made sure to hire Small Heath people, purchasing all the material from local and small businesses, he felt this urge to help as much as possible because he couldn’t stop thinking given different circumstances, it would be him instead of them struggling with money, not having enough in their pockets to feed their family.

“This looks amazing, thank you for all the hard work you’re doing.” Y/N praised.

It wasn’t her place to supervise, but Tommy officially let her decide everything that was needed; from the color, decoration, even the personnel. He just kept signing cheques.

“Am I still on time to enroll my children? Could you ask Mr. Shelby, Miss Y/LN?”

“Yes of course you can! Bring me the papers tomorrow morning and the authorization.”

It was Tommy’s wish, to help as much people as possible.

The man gave her an embarrassed glance. “I don’t want them to be like me, I want them to have an education.” He added with melancholy.

“There’s nothing wrong to work in construction Billy,” Y/N encouraged. “But it’s admirable that you want them to be better.”

“That wouldn’t be possible without Mr. Shelby’s generosity.”

Y/N smiled at him but before she could step inside the building again, she noticed a car parking behind. Squinting her eyes because of the sun, she could barely tell who was that.

“Is this the Institution that runs that gang leader?” The man asked, judging by his attire he was a priest, but there was some off about him that said otherwise.

An uneasy feeling made Y/N take a step back, she covered her bump with the folders in her hands in a protective motion.

“Who’s asking?”

Tommy would be the last person on earth to have something to do with a priest.

The man looked her up and down, giving her a nasty and dirty stare.

“Tell him I’ll supervise this place, once it’s open.”

When he left, his vehicle made a cloud of dust. He didn’t ask politely, no, he pretended to be in charge of the charity.

Y/N walked inside the Institute again, making a mental note to add a room for the children to read, and they might need a fountain in the patio. She chuckled to herself, realizing she started to sound like Tommy.

No long after honking loudly, Tommy announced his presence, Y/N saw him behind the window as he was strolling towards her.

“Pick up your stuff, we’re going.” He announced.

“Where?”

“Somewhere, don’t ask.”

Y/N frowned. “I’ve to ask, it’s going to be midday, there’s things that need to be done.”

Tommy stepped into her office, looking for her coat and handbag.

“Yeah I pay you a ridiculous amount of money it’s about time you hire an assistant.” He said with a wink.

“An assistant of an assistant. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard.” She added, Tommy noticed she crossed her arms, not pleased by his interruption, she was always doing what she had to do and don’t you dare to move something from her things-to-do-list.

“It’s something good, trust me.”

“Can I ask where are we going?” Y/N asked enjoying the wind in her face.

“No.”

“What’s with all this secrecy?”

“If I tell you, you’re going to tell me no.”

“Well, you better include food because the baby is getting hungry.” Y/N smiled at her bump, while her hands caressed in a circle motion. Day by day she was getting fond of her baby.

“Oh I was counting you’d say that, lately you’re demanding more and more food.” He added in a light mood.

“Polly says I need to eat for two.” Y/N defended.

Tommy chuckled and in a blink, he was gone. He literally stormed into the library.

The little information she managed to get was that now she was reading out loud for Tommy a book about Russians that ran away from the revolution and opted to live exiled and from the Crown’s charity. Tommy assured her that way was practical.

Parking later after in front of a couple of shops, but she still knew so little about what was behind Tommy’s requests.

“I’ve a meeting around, it should be quick,” he explained helping Y/N out of the car, “but I thought it might be good if you start searching for some baby furniture, eh?”

“Tommy…” She covered her mouth with her hand.

“And don’t even start saying you don’t have money, I promised your grandma to look after the two of you, and that includes the things the baby will need.” Tommy used her shocked state to practically drag her inside the store, wining the argument way before it could start. “Hello, we would like to check out a moses, a rocking chair, a drawer…”

Y/N stared at him silently, Tommy thought of everything and even though his generosity wasn’t a surprise, it still came out of the blue, catching her off guard.

“Would you like us to open an account?” Asked the perplexed sales woman.

“Yes,” Tommy answered eyeing a catalog. “Everything she wants, a lamp, the carpet, the sheets… just put it into my account.” He handled a card with his company name and address. “Pick you up in about an hour?”

Y/N nodded, still trying to process everything.

“Leave something for the rest of the costumers ey!” Tommy shouted from the door before disappearing.

The woman started swooning immediately. “I hope the baby will get his eyes.” The woman admitted with a blush.

Y/N opened her mouth to correct her and tell her that Tommy wasn’t the father, but she closed it instead, remembering the advise her grandmother shared with her; don’t explain your situation to people you don’t know, let them believe their assumptions even if it’s incorrect. It will save you of uncomfortable explanations.

So Y/N gave the sales woman an awkward smile and followed her to the back of the store, this moment would arrive sooner or later and she was already here.

“We can make any piece you want in a variety of colors, there’s a trunk in the corner that goes well with this dresser…”

“Let me bring the fabric catalog for the carpets.” Added another woman, they obviously wanted to make a juicy sale.

Y/N felt like she was walking on a cloud, the smile on her face couldn’t get bigger. And now, she was the one swooning over the furniture, her imagination taking her to unknown places with images of her rocking her baby to sleep, or taking a look through the canopy at a small bundle of joy.

An excited gasp escaped her lips when she landed her eyes on a crib mobile. Her heart did this flip inside her chest and she could hardly hide her emotions.

“Should we add it?” The expert eye of the sales woman noticed her excitement. “Your baby will be fascinated and spend hours staring at it.”

The mobile had a handmade star and a sheep, a fluffy cloud and a small sun. It was adorable, she couldn’t wait for her baby to be born to use everything.

Y/N was allowed to sit on the rocking chairs to see which one felt more comfortable and the women showed her a few combinations to create a whole set of dresser, a small wardrobe, a bedside table and also the different colors they had to offer. The more she looked, the more confused she felt because everything was beautiful! She had never had the chance to purchase furniture, since her house was filled with her grandma’s possessions.

A fond memory of her grandmother knitting a blanket for one of her sisters filled her mind, her parents didn’t have enough money to buy fancy furniture, so they used a basket as a crib, she was just a girl but she remembered it clearly.

Both women shared endless recommendations for her baby arrival, and Y/N felt extremely grateful and was willing to take every little thing that could be helpful.

As she flicked another page of the catalog, she wondered how long would it take Tommy to pick her up, then her thoughts wandered towards her sister Lee-Anne, the last time she saw her, it was the day her father hit her. They couldn’t meet because their parents where so strict now, after what happened, they were trying to move under the radar according to her grandmother. There were so many things she wanted to tell Lee-Anne, firstly assure her that she was alright, she didn’t need to worry, then when the time is right, she would explain everything to her, so the younger girl wouldn’t make the same mistake as her.

Not that she thought her baby was a mistake, no. Those are two separate things. But the circumstances it’s what was wrong, she was aware that not all women had a Tommy Shelby around the corner to selflessly take care of everything.

If only she knew then, she’d do it differently.

“Y/N?” A gentle voice called for her, something squeezed her arm slightly.

Her eyes fluttered open and Y/N looked around confused.

“You fell asleep.” Tommy pointed out.

“It happens all the time.” The sales woman gave her a small glance. “We didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Goodness.” Y/N felt embarrassed and mortified, she felt tired.

“So, I think you found the perfect rocking chair then.” Tommy raised his eyebrows in amusement.

“We’ll have everything delivered in a couple of weeks.” Her smile couldn’t get bigger.

Thanking them, Tommy and Y/N stepped outside the boutique, she wanted to stretch her legs so bad.

“How did your meeting go?”

“Boring.”

He always had just a few words to say. But his eyes, said everything that was crossing his mind.

“Did you get to drink vodka and do the Russian dance?” Y/N teased.

Tommy scoffed at her sense of humor.

“He’s a liar, a buffer. He’s just a filthy lucky bastard with the right connections.”

He sighed loudly, but at least Tommy was sharing something with her. In that case it would be so easy for him to make that man show his true colors.

As he started the engine, Y/N started telling him of all the adorable things they showed her at the store, noticing the way her eyes were glowing. And he obviously preferred that kind of news instead of the one Polly was about to share.

“I’ll wait here by the fireplace.” Y/N announced, not wanting to get in the middle of the argument.

Sitting in one of the couches, she leaned her head back, rolling her feet meanwhile a few steps away, the Shelby family were discussing over whatever John had made.

“If you apologize once, you do it again and again…” Y/N heard Tommy say as she was drifting away to sleep. But she was far too gone and tired.

Feeling drained after all the things he got busy with, Tommy couldn’t wait to be home.

“You can stay over so you don’t have to drive back.” He proposed to his brother Finn, who would be driving.

But as Tommy stepped into the entry, he stopped abruptly when his eyes landed on Y/N. She was peacefully sleeping on the couch, the flames of the fireplace casting shadows over her features while one of her hands rested under her belly.

He didn’t have the heart to wake her up.

“Bring the car around.” He whispered Finn, trying to concede Y/N a few more minutes before starting the road back home.

Taking off his coat, he slid it over her frame to cover her from the cold. Tommy tried to call her in a low voice, but she only adjusted her shoulder as answer. Y/N should probably take things easier, but she was adamant to finish the charity project, she was pouring every fiber of her soul into it and wanted to make sure every single detail was perfect.

“Y/N… let’s go.” Tommy tried again softly.

Fluttering her eyes, she slowly opened them squinting in confusion by feeling Tommy touching her shoulder.

“C’mon let me help you.”

“Hmm.” She hummed barely cooperating.

She was beyond sleepy by the time they reached the car, settled taking the back seat by herself, she heard the Shelby brothers talking something about an Italian pub and a fight that would eventually happen. Tommy mentioned something about their fragile ego and sending flowers to a hospital, but Y/N couldn’t be sure because maybe it was part of her dream.

She moved across the room, smashing the fresh berries for the pie she was baking, the lovely smell feeling the small kitchen, it was a sunny day and she could hear the birds chirping, when suddenly a baby cry came to her attention. Y/N rushed then to get pick up her baby who was demanding her presence.

“It’s just fine, are you hungry?” She cooed to settle the lovely bundle wrapped in a blanket.

“How’s my ray of sunshine?” Asked her grandmother from behind, reaching over to caress the baby’s face.

“Woke up hungry.”

“You feed the baby while I finish the pie.”

When the car took a turn Y/N’s bumped something, she woke up disoriented.

“Finally I was tired of you snoring.” Tommy teased taking at look over his shoulder.

“Oh my God I don’t snore!”

“Loud and clear.” Tommy assured her. “Like a truck driver.”

Y/N gave Tommy a surprised and embarrassed look, awkwardly she tried to fix her hair since it was out of place.

Finn rushed upstairs while Mary greeted them by the door.

“Something important came up?” Tommy asked the maid.

“Just a few letters.” She gave him a nod.

“Oh, and maybe a couple of responses to the charity invitation.” Y/N wondered out loud.

“All correspondence arrived under Mr. Shelby’s name.” The maid explained, making a bit obvious that she wasn’t very fond of Y/N.

Y/N looked between Tommy and Mary, waiting.

“Go on, go check the mail.” He told her softly.

“Mr. Shelby.” Mary tried to get his attention. “The mailman thinks Miss Y/LN is Mrs. Shelby, he asked me if Mrs. Shelby had anymore invites to send off.” The maid voiced with concern.

Tommy noticed the offended tone in her voice.

“Let him think whatever he wants, Mary.” Tommy shuddered, not thinking it was important. “As long as he takes the mail.”

“But…” she tried again, then closed her mouth when Tommy gave her the look.

“That’s all, thank you Mary.” Tommy dismissed her just as Y/N entered the reading room skipping happily.

“Guess!”

Sitting, Tommy groaned. “Guess what?”

“He said yes!” Y/N explained excitedly.

“Who?” He chuckled at her happiness.

“He leader of the Birmingham City Council is going to attend the dinner.” Y/N showed him the letter back. “Everyone has said yes.”

Tommy dragged his eyes from the piece of paper, towards Y/N.

“Ah.” Suddenly she got the energy of a kid, it was the nap during the car ride did wonders to her.

“I keep changing the menu, do you think we should offer something else?” Y/N kept explaining how she needed to send a Thank you note back to the people who had confirmed their attendance.

The charity was clearly an excellent job for her. Keeping her busy with something good whilst helping people in need and he was glad to have someone he could trust to take care of that.

“You need to remember to take this slowly, write off those notes tomorrow or the day after tomorrow.” He suggested.

“But Tommy, these things can’t wait, it takes days for the letters to be delivered and-”

“Very well then, why don’t you use the typewriter I gave you.” He cleared his throat and took a sip of his drink.

“Tom!” She chuckled. “You don’t write letters of a social occasion on a typewriter.” Y/N explained him with a smile.

“Oh, forgive me.” He raised his eyebrows.

She then went on to show him another paper. “I’ve the drawings of what they plan to do with the grounds of the institute. There’ll be an area for the children to play. Look.” He hummed in response. “And the Birmingham Charity Commission have agreed to set aside their three rotten floorboards upstairs and grant us the license within a month.”

She finally took a deep breath after managing to explain him all in record time. There was a soft smile playing on his lips and she found tenderness in his eyes.

“You’re not listening to me.” Y/N sentenced.

Tommy leaned forwards. “Yes I am. I am.”

“You think I’m becoming obsessed?” Y/N stopped abruptly.

A chuckle escaped Tommy’s lips. “No, as a matter of fact, I love the passion you’ve put into this project.”

“This wouldn’t be possible without you.” Y/N expressed honestly.

Tommy gave Y/N a long look, studying her features, until he finally spoke.

“I’ve something for you.” Y/N frowned confused. “I know you’ll say it’s a bit too much, but still.”

“What did you get?” She eyed him suspiciously.

“Close your eyes.” Tommy encouraged.

“Tom.”

He fixed his eyes on her, not taking a no for as answer. So she gave in, turned around and closed her eyes.

Leaning back, Tommy got something out of his pocket, holding the chain between both hands, he presented Y/N the present.

Y/N felt lost for words when she saw the necklace. “What’s this?”

“A sapphire.” He explained calmly.

The cold stone sent a shiver down her spine when it made contact with her skin. It felt heavy and strange to have a stone that bug hanging from her neck.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“A simple thank you could work.” He winked. “And before you even start, you can either wear it or keep it in the box it’s your choice.”

Y/N was still trying to process the overpriced present, never in a million years she imagined to own something like that piece of expensive jewelry.

“This is insane, but thank you.” She chuckled nervously. “Where am I even supposed to wear something like this? The charity event?”

“You can wear it to church if you want, it’s yours Y/N.”

“Goodness.” She looked down at her chest and touched the cold gemstone. “You really look for any excuse to show off your wealth, damned bastard.”

Tommy laughed loudly. “You got me.”

“I wanted to ask you to be my baby’s godfather… but you’re going to spoil the poor child.”

“Oh I think I earned that right, so you better keep considering me.”

She slapped his arm playfully, earning another laugh from him. Tommy pulled her by the arm but the sharp move caught her off guard and made her loose her balance, landing on his chest. His arms came around her waist instantly in a protective motion, and their laughs subsided as soon as they realized how close they were to each other’s faces.

Something they both didn’t know how to name ignited in that moment, suddenly her warm hands felt like burning through the layers of his clothes, his deep blue sparkled in a way she had never seen before.

Struggling to form a coherent thought, Y/N used his chest to support her arms and move back. Tommy cleared his throat just as he was trying to clear his mind.

“Sorry… I stumbled.” She tried to smooth her clothes.

“Yeah.” He noticed the blush on her cheeks.

“Better go to get s-some rest.” The words rushed out of her lips. “Have a good night.”

“Good night, Y/N.” He replied more to himself, watching her leave the room.

Taking the remains of his drink in a swing, Tommy thought how close they were of crossing a line that would change everything.

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[mr-payjay]

Paper Stream Interview Transcript!!!!!!!

This took me forever. But I like transcribing. The transcript is under the cut ❤️

Fan: We have… the next best thing. That's right. OJ's... righthand man! Uh—well—some could say. Um. In—uh—uh—our guest of honor, tonight, that's right, you've all been waiting for it: PAPER!

Paper: Haha, hey everyone! Um... I wasn't really expecting to, come on out tonight!

Fan: Neither was I.

Paper: It was a—it was a bit of a change in schedule! What was that?

Fan: Nei—yeah—neither was I. I mean, look, I-I always love to see you Paper, um...

Paper: Hehe!

Fan: I'll be g—I'll be—

Paper: We're besties! Paper pals!

Fan: Yeah! No we are paper pals. I—I mean I'll be completely frank with you... all of my questions I prepared were for OJ, so...

Paper: Oh!

Fan: Um... I don't know if you'll be able to answer any—like cause like I mean look at the—alright like first card here that I have is like—what, you see, like what's it like running a hotel—see, like that doesn't apply to you at all, like cause you're just a guest here at Hotel OJ, you don't have any responsibilities, so we could just—we could just crumple that up—

Paper: Wha—uh—about that, I mean I d—I…

Fan: Oh!

Paper: I do do quite a… bit for Hotel OJ.

Fan: Oh really?

Paper: I mean like, whenever OJ's over to—over to the left, some fire's gotta be put out on the right, you know what I mean?

Fan: Okay… I didn't realize that you were invol—so what's like—what's your ro—do you have like an official title? Here? In the hotel?

Paper: Um… well, well no, well, my title is…

Fan: Oh!

Paper: Paper! You know? Um…

Fan: Well, Paper—yeah well, that's your name! But like do you have like a… you know, a position, a role?

Paper: Well…

Fan: A job?

Paper: OJ's… in charge, and…

Fan: Right.

Paper: I-I don't really have a title? Because, you know, in *theory,* I'm supposed to just be, a guest who gets all the accommodations and, you know, same as everyone else without having to do the *work* for it…

Fan: Right. Yeah.

Paper: But. You know. I also have to… you know. Clean up everything, and, and, and, you know, I'll—I'll cook some meals, and do the dishes, and… and organize all the… the reconstruction and, whenever we had the Hotel OJ casino, you know, when we were doing that big project that we loved and did for… many, many, many months… um… tsk, you know, I-I was running things there, and…

Fan: Wow…

Paper: You know, construction…

Fan: The hotel casino, I lost a lot of money on that…

Paper: And… planting some flowers… and… you know, I-I mean, I kinda do… everything around here!

Fan: Now I wanna—

Paper: [noise]

Fan: Yeah… okay… I wanna return to one thing that you sai—ah—my… I perked up when you said this, cause you said you *have* to do these things. What do you mean have to—like who's making you do these things? How did this start?

Paper: Um, I suppose, “have to” is, you know… not the exact perfect wording for it.

Fan: Okay…

Paper: But um… you know…

Fan: NOW'S YOUR CHANCE TO CHANGE THE WORDING!

Paper: Wha—uh… I saw that OJ needed, you know, just a little bit of help once, you know, and, um… Yinyang was like… causing a big scene, and—and throwing things around… and then I just—

Fan: And OJ came to you? He came to you to—for help? Or did you approach OJ?

Paper: Well kinda—kinda not, I just, I stepped in—

Fan: You approached him.

Paper: I-I did the job, I-I got things figured out, sorted through, made everyone feel all comfortable, and then OJ said: You did really good with that. You should do that maybe a… a little bit more often! And I'm like, oh, i-if you, if you think I did a really good job, I-I guess I could… I could do it some more, and… you know that you kinda tumble on into these kinds of things!

Fan: Kay, I need you to hold that thought Paper, because look, there has been a—a COSMIC shift in the poll. Knife is now leading f—oh sorry. Oh wait, no, oh, oh we're going back and forth!

Paper: What's going on?

Fan: Knife is leading fifty-one to forty-nine and then it went to fifty fifty AND THEN IT WENT BACK! Knife fifty-one forty-nine AND NOW IT'S BACK! Fifty fifty—oh my goodness, Paper—OH MY GOODNESS, WAIT, KNIFE FIFTY-ONE FORTY—OH AND IT'S BACK TO FIFTY FIFTY—OH WAIT IT'S FIFTY-ONE FORTY-NINE—I'M NOT EVEN JOKING FOLKS! I-I'm taking so many screenshots, but I can't keep up, I can't keep up folks, it's—it's gonna… I'm gonna be logging all of these, I'm gonna have a whole scrapbook. Oh my gosh. Oh that—wait that's right, oh hold on, you're still here.

Paper: This is a once in a lifetime event! Assuming, you know. There's only… one… event.

Fan: Right.

Paper: But here, at the, Hotel OJ party! Hop hop hop! We are, hopping ready for a big exciting finale! So, it seems, that uh, there's a, fifty percent chance, that the person who wins, is going to get YOU all hopping excited!

Fan: Now—you're—you're really keying in on this hop thing, I-I have to ask, like—

Paper: Yeah!

Fan: Is it like—

Paper: Oh I love it.

Fan: It's the Hotel OJ party, so like, I mean the acronym would be like… H-O-J-P, like—ho—ho—hojp?

Paper: Wha—the name is OJ, so… I-I—

Fan: Well it's Orange Juice, so it'd be HOJP, not HOP.

Paper: [incomprehensible]—of the name, like, I don't, you know, ho… hotel, I don't do HT for that, I—

Fan: But there's no space. Orange Juice has a nice space, it's two words. So I think it's HOJP.

Paper: There's a space?!

Fan: No question. Yeah! In Orange Juice, are you kidding me?!

Paper: W-Well he goes by OJ!

Fan: Alright, I-I know that came off rude—

Paper: What—you type out the letters O, J, you put a space in the between them?!

Fan: No—okay, no—n-n-now, now, now, now you're—you're mixing it up. No, OJ in and of itself—

Paper: I'm mixing it up? You're getting so confused, you think you know OJ better than *I* know OJ?!

Fan: I did not say that, Paper. I did not—okay, I've clearly touched a nerve here. Listen. When you do an acronym, you put all of the letters together, no spaces. But when you actually *say* what the acronym is, out loud, then the spaces come into play! You see? So—

Paper: You don't—

Fan: —it would be—

Paper: But—Y-You don't type the letters—

Fan: HOJP!

Paper: —as you say them!

Fan: IT'S HOJP! PAPER! IT'S HOJP! IT'S HOJP! It's HOJP. I'm sorry.

Paper: HOJP? What?

Fan: I'm sorry, Paper. It's HOJP. Alright, you know what? Enough of this poll. I'm gonna end this poll.

Paper: B-b-but it doesn't—it doesn't roll off the tongue! Like, wha…

Fan: Well, that's exactly my point!

Paper: What?

Fan: Why would you have done that? Why would you have done that.

Paper: HOP! HOP is fun! HOP is fun!

Fan: Alright—I'm gonna—you know what? I—before I-I-I'm going to set up a new poll. To see what people—what people say about this. But I also just wanna, like, anecdotally ask the chat: what—is it—is it HOP or HOJP? When you're—when you're talking about the Hotel *OJ* party? Hotel Orange Juice party.

Paper: I think—I-I think you're trying to sway people in one sort of direction!

Fan: I'm not swaying, I'm just saying what it—how—what is it called? What is the party called?

Paper: The… Hotel, OJ! Party…

Fan: And what does OJ—st—oh—wait, OJ—wait! Wait! OJ in and of itself is an acronym, so go on, say what OJ stands for.

Paper: But—we're not saying Orange Juice, are we?! Are we saying Orange Juice right now?! Or are we saying, OJ?!

Fan: Alright, a lot—

Paper: Come on!

Fan: A lot—a lot of the chat is saying HOP, I'm just gonna let you have this one.

Paper: Hahaha, that's a hopping win for us! Hahaha! Well, c-come on, you wouldn't wanna be at the HOJP party!

Fan: No, I wouldn't.

Paper: They—this kinda just works out for everyone!

Fan: Alright, whatever, okay. Ugh… Alright, well—

Paper: Okay, let's just, let's take a break, and—hehe—usually I like to, sort things out, and, make things all calm and chill, but uh… heh, you know, I understand that I caused quite the ruckus today, so let's—[inhale]—ahmumumumum.

Fan: Okay, so—

Paper: C-Can you make that noise?

Fan: No. So, Paper, uh, I want to know. Who do you think should win the second season of Inanimate Insanity? Uh, I know obviously you have some history with Knife, and you kinda have none with Suitcase. So, go ahead!

Paper: Wha—well—uh, y-you beat me to it, Fan! I mean—

Fan: Yeah!

Paper: —here's the issue, right?

Fan: Yeah.

Paper: I don't know a thing about Suitcase! I mean I-I-I didn't compete with her, I-I suppose when—when some people come back to the hotel who have a history with her, they're like: yeah! She’s… pretty nice! And I'm like, oh I like when people are nice that's pretty cool. Um… so, you would think that, you know, kinda just makes sense that by default, since we have, you know, history and all, you know, we—we've… had a lot of time together and such—just makes sense, go for Knife!

Fan: Wow, I'm—

Paper: BUT HE'S A JERK!

Fan: I… I feel like I'm getting some mixed messages from you right now, Paper. Because like you… really have a lot of issues with Knife, but you—you actually would be rooting for Knife!

Paper: Oh no, absolutely not. I'm saying despite the fact, that I don't know a *thing* about Suitcase, of course I'm gonna root for her! Cause, Knife is—

Fan: I'm sorry, I'm only half paying attention, sorry. Continue.

Paper: I appreciate you anyway. Knife is mean, Knife is a bully, why—why would anyone WANT to root for him!? Yeah, oh maybe he beat—did a few challenges well, or whatever, but—Knife will RIP ME APART given the chance! I don't get it! But, you know, maybe I don't need to get it, because, fifty percent of the chat thinks it's, just okay to root for the guy!

Fan: Does that—does that bother you?

Paper: Mn… a little bit, but, you know… I don't wanna tell people what to do.

Fan: No, go ahead.

Paper: You're a fan of him, you know… [at the audience]

Fan: It's not bad, tell them.

Paper: I just know who to… not ever interact with!

Fan: Go ahead and tell them how you feel. I mean, that's why you're here. Share your opinion.

Paper: What? I don't… In front of all eight people listening?

Fan: Yeah—well… there's more than eight. That's a little insulting. You think I can't get a crowd more than eight?

Paper: More than eight? How many more than eight are there?

Fan: Let's… not say, for your own sake.

Paper: Okay… okay, just have to, say this as though there's ten people here and be, be prepared for such a big—

Fan: That's gonna be hard cause it's over eight thousand—sorry! Just slipped out.

Paper: WHAT!? AAH!!!

Fan: Slipped out! Slipped out.

Paper: Um…

Fan: Slipped out, slipped out, slipped out! Sorry.

Paper: Uh… well, for the four thousand who rooted, you know, voted for Knife, just know that you are, supporting a… do I say this word?

Fan: Uh, I don't…

Paper: Is it okay, am I allowed to say this on stream?

Fan: I don't know what word you're going to say!

Paper: It's the P-word!

Fan: What? I don't know what word you're—whisper it in my ear.

Paper: Pbtpbtpbtpbtpbtpbtpbt.

Fan: You just made some nonsense sounds right now, can you actually whisper the word in my ear, please.

Paper: There was a little faith, that you would hear it.

Fan: JUST SAY THE WORD, JUST SAY IT!

Paper: BULLY!!!

Fan: What?

Paper: He's a bully!

Fan: I thought you said P-word. Bully starts with a B.

Paper: B-word. B-word!

Fan: Oh. I thought you said P-word. I was like—

Paper: No, no, P would be like a, puh! You, know like a—puh!

Fan: Ugh. This has been very educational, Paper, I have to say.

Paper: I appreciate it!

Fan: Yeah! Um… Yeah! No I mean… I-I-I enjoy the fact that you have your opinions, and I certainly have mine, and you know, we don't have to agree, on everything, just what's important.

Paper: Oh, so you *do* have an opinion? On who should win?

Fan: Well, it's not my place to say! This—I'm the moderator of the event so it would insult the—

Paper: Exactly, so it's—it's very specifically *your* place!

Fan: —would insult the integrity of the, uh, livestream, if I were to share my opinion, I established this upfront, you know. I think it makes sense to me. This is my own internal logic and it's my show so, if that is the call that I made, then I don't think that I should have to disclose any opinion, one way or another. I think that's fair.

Paper: Fine. Then I don't very much care either!

Fan: Oh you don't care to hear my opinion? Well that much I knew.

Paper: Ah, wa—I-I-I-I didn't mean it, I just… I just kinda, you know, tried to be… a funny person, who… goes with the bit! I mean…

Fan: Yeah, yeah… Go with the bit, alright… Yeah, you really go with the bit, Paper. You know what? Yeah. Just go with the bit! Yeah, I-I'll go with the bit too. Yeah—th-this has really, this has been such a—such a *great* time. Talking to each other. I think. Yeah, I really enjoyed it—

Paper: Well, I think so too!

Fan: —everyone's been waiting for a long time, for like, the FFF Paper interview, you know, there was a lot of—there was a lot of controversy about this and I—

Paper: And why didn't it happen, huh?

Fan: I—look, I wanted to do it! Salt and Pepper encroached upon my territory, you saw! I was happy to have it happen! I invited you for a reason! We were sharing a laugh—

Paper: And then we had it scheduled, a Paper interview, and then you just—you just sail on off to some concert!

Fan: Hey, hey, hey, hey, we're not gonna talk about that right now. We're not gonna talk about that right now. Okay?

Paper: Hmph.

Fan: We're not gonna talk about that right now. Please. Paper. Come on. This is not—that's not—that's not what this night is about. This night is about, we are a-approaching the end, of Inanimate Insanity 2. You understand that? You understand how big of a deal that is? Do you know how long everyone has been waiting? For this resolution? This is huge, this is massive! Okay? It's not about you, or me…

Paper: It's been—it's been going around, uh… almost as long as I've… lived in this hotel! You know, so I suppose that makes sense!

Fan: Yeah! Yeah no, it is a very, look, it is a very—

Paper: It's like our entire lives by this point!

Fan: It is a very, very big deal. Um… so, yeah, and I-I-I for one am excited to see how it all turns out—I'm sorry, everyone else who's watching is also very much interested to see. Uh, how it'll—how it'll play out too! And I hope, you know, I hope we all are satisfied, you know, it's hard, sometimes, like cause you can't—can't always a-a-a-appeal to everyone, but. You know, it's definitely… it… Yeah. It's been great, finally having this interview with you Paper—I am—I *am* sorry that it took this long, I think I had very understandable reasons that were outside of my control! For why I took this long. But. You know. It's… yeah, it's uh… it—it is what it is. Okay? Do you accept that? Can you accept that? Or no.

Paper: Mm. I do, Fan. I do.

Fan: Okay. Okay, that's all I'm asking. That—that is all I'm asking. And uh… by the way the chat—the chat is—

Paper: [incomprehensible]

Fan: What's that?

Paper: Are we—are we still gonna be paper puppet pals going forward?

Fan: We will be, I-I just wanted to let you know that the chat is saying, like, it—it's HOJP in their heart. So, I think they're trying to turn—

Paper: You said they were saying HOP before! What changed?!

Fan: Well, they—look, I'm seeing, I-I'm trying to pull up an example, i-it won't let me—I'm trying to scroll up, but it won't let me pick it! Jay, I see you in the chat, Jay, I'm trying to click your comment! Wait, no, it—it zoomed away! Hold on I'm gonna get it. I'm gonna get it! You watch, hold on. I have evidence. I have evidence. I have evidence. I will show you.

Paper: Well. You know what? If we can't, you know, figure out all this with the audience that sounds like it's, more than ten people, I mean… we do have a whole bunch of other people, you know, out back, who could give their opinions.

Fan: Well, I-I mean, Paper, I scheduled them all—they only had time to speak individually, I-I don't think that we're gonna be able to get them all again. You know, running a show like this, it's—it's—it's very difficult, it takes a lot of coordination, I know you call that talent, coordination. But—oh wait oh they're all back there. Oh they're all back there. Oh.

Paper: Oh hey guys?

Fan: Oh, wait, hold on, hold on, wait. They wanna all c—oh wait, wait, wait, hold on. Hold on. Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. I'm gonna—wait—I'm gonna invite them all—eh yeah! Everyone! Yeah! Come back! Come back! Come back!

[frvnkcastles]

hi, sorry if I wrote something wrong, this is the first time I make a request... well, I've been dealing with OCD since 2020 (not with organization, but with having to touch something repeatedly or turning the light on and off among other things, and if I don't do something bad happens) and I saw that you're accepting ideas, so here's mine if you want :) Frank Castle x Reader who has had OCD for years but it has gotten worse and she has a panic attack because she doesn't want to deal with it anymore but she just can't stop

I’LL KEEP YOU LIKE AN OATH ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: Stuck in a compulsion, you need Frank’s help and support more than ever.

Warnings: Reader has OCD, panic attack, hurt/comfort, feminine nicknames

Word count: 1.4k

Author’s note: I’ve actually been assessed for OCD because I display some traits but I’m fortunate to say they’re not that severe, so I can’t say I fully know the experience I was writing about here. But I hope it meets your expectations, anon! You’re so strong and I hope you’re doing well <3 I feel like Frank would 100000% learn everything he can about his partner’s disorders and go to doctor’s appointments and make sure there’s no skipping meds. Tell me I’m wrong!! Anyway, enjoy :)

You didn’t know what happened to make your symptoms worse, what caused the turn towards a decline in your control over your compulsions but it happened, anyway. You thought you were doing so well, but slowly and surely, your steady management of your disorder crumbled and you soon found yourself in an evil loop that you didn’t quite know how to break out of.

Frank quickly picked up on it getting worse. He could read you like an open book and he was perfectly attuned to your moods and especially the anxiety that had begun to rear its head more often, so it was easy for him to figure out you were struggling. You had been together long enough for him to know exactly how your symptoms manifested and what he could do to help, but he couldn’t deny his heart broke for you after you had made so much progress in the past year.

He caught you standing by the light switch one evening, and he immediately knew what was going on. ”Hey, sweetheart. Wanna take a walk with me or somethin’? Get your mind off of it?” he asked softly, placing a hand on your arm to gently retrieve you from the switch, but you stood firmly and pried his grip off of you.

”I can’t do that. I—I just can’t”, you insisted, flicking the lights on and then back off, which earned a frown from Frank. You had told him before about the immense fear of something bad happening if you didn’t follow the compulsions, and while he knew he couldn’t fix what was going on in your head, he always tried to soothe your circling thoughts.

”It’s aight, baby. I promise, nothin’s gonna happen. I know I’m just some asshole sayin’ it but I swear, it’ll be okay”, he reassured you, stepping in front of you to tear your burning stare away from the light switch and towards him. ”Remember what the doctor said, huh? Sometimes you gotta refuse to engage, yeah? C’mon, sit with me for a while, sweetheart”, he reminded you, and reluctantly, you had to admit he was right. You had agreed to give exposure therapy a go, and when you didn’t feel strong enough on your own, Frank had promised to be right by your side to help you sit with the anxiety.

Frank extended his hand to you, and with a sigh, you took it. ”Attagirl”, he commended you before leading you to the living room couch. You fidgeted but sat down, regardless, and he hauled you into his arms, creating a pile of cuddles on the cushions. Throughout the time you had been together, you had discovered that he could be very affectionate — at least when the right person had come along, and usually, you enjoyed it deeply. But right now, you couldn’t help but ruminate on the damn light switch.

”I gotchu. Wanna tell me about your day tomorrow?” Frank tried to steer your mind toward something else, and exhaling shakily, you nodded. You really wanted to try, make an effort for him and give him a reason to be proud of you. You were certainly weary of your compulsions, so you couldn’t exactly blame Frank if he was starting to feel the same way.

”Yeah, I—I, uh… I’m seeing a friend for lunch and—”, you started, but lost track of your own sentence quickly enough. You couldn’t stop thinking about the light switch, couldn’t help but feel the imminent doom looming over you if you dared to step away from the compulsion, and it was driving you mad.

”I’m listenin’, pretty girl. Which friend we talkin’ about?” Frank tried to keep you going, so thoughtful and attentive, but it wasn’t working. You knew he was really trying for you — he had attended every doctor’s appointment as per your wish and he had made sure to ask what he could do to help, how he could take off some of the burden you were carrying by yourself. And he routinely checked in with you to ensure he hadn’t crossed any boundaries and that his gentle pushing was still helping, and most days, you were happy to report that he was your saving grace.

But right now, it just wasn’t enough.

”I’m sorry, I can’t do this”, you stammered, rushing to climb out of Frank’s arms. You hurried to the light switch and began flicking it on and off, the urge to do it a specific amount of times overcoming your senses. You stood by it like a moth drawn to a flame, and Frank felt a horrible pit in his stomach for being unable to ease your mind.

He followed you from the living room, just in time to catch sight of you bringing your hands to your forehead in despair. You promptly burst into tears, feeling sickened and nervous and out of control, and as you shakily dropped your hands to cover your face, Frank rushed to your side. He placed his palm flat on your back and he crouched over to your level as you doubled over and your breathing grew shallow and panicked.

”Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay, sweetheart”, he tried, his gruff voice full of worry as he watched you sink deeper into the panic attack.

”I just want it to stop”, you sobbed, feeling so hopeless and defeated. You didn’t want to get stuck in these loops anymore, but you were incapable of stopping, and it was sending you into a downward spiral right there and then.

But Frank was determined to save you from it. ”I know, baby, I know. It’s real shitty. I wish I could make it stop, y’know I would in a heartbeat”, he spoke with sincere sympathy. ”Breathe f’me, yeah? Look at me. Focus on just me, nothin’ else”, he instructed, soft but demanding enough to be a guiding light, and trying your best, you followed his example of breathing in and out steadily.

Your head was still spinning and your chest felt constricted, but you managed to slow down your breathing. Feeling completely overwhelmed, you slumped down to the floor and sat down against the wall with ragged breaths and trembling hands. Frank followed you down, squatting in front of you to remain in your eyeline, and his hand rested on your propped-up knee.

”There you go, keep goin’”, he encouraged you in a way that helped you calm down. He kept you grounded and as minutes ticked by, you were able to pull yourself back from the void of the sheer panic. You dropped your head between your arms, and observing you with the burning desire to do more to help, Frank sighed.

”I know this fuckin’ sucks, baby. You don’t deserve any of it”, he spoke up, sitting down fully. ”But you know I’m always here, aight? I ain’t givin’ up or lettin’ you do it, either. We’ll get you therapy or meds or whatever it is you wanna do”, he went on, and feeling embarrassed for spinning out of control the way you had, you looked up at him.

”I’m sorry. I wish I wasn’t this way”, you lamented, and in response, Frank just shook his head, refusing to let you go down that path of self-hatred.

”It’s not who you are, ya hear me? They’re your symptoms. It’s a disorder. It’s got nothin’ to do with the kind of person you are, which, by the way, I fuckin’ adore and love no matter what. You’re my girl, and I’m here for you even when you think you’re at your worst”, he claimed with a serious tone. It wasn’t something he was going to argue about — to him, you were perfect. You just happened to struggle sometimes, but that didn’t make you any less beautiful or amazing to him. In fact, it just convinced him that you were so, so strong.

Smiling weakly, you took his hand. ”Thank you, Frankie. I love you, too”, you whispered in gratitude. The compulsion hadn’t left your mind yet, and you suspected it was going to stick with you for a while, but you felt a little better knowing Frank wasn’t going anywhere nor was he going to judge you.

”C’mere, girl”, he gestured for you to crawl into his arms, and you happily obliged. You did exactly that, shuffling on the floor until you were sitting between his legs and your head rested against his chest, the warmth of his firm body bringing you immense comfort.

For the night, Frank was focused on helping you alleviate the anxiety, but the next day, he was driven to find you some help. When it came to your well-being, he did not procrastinate, and so, he was determined to do whatever he could, just for you.

[thelovelylolly]

Hobie gotta beat a mf up cause they stared being a misogynistic asshole to his girl🙏🏽🙏🏽

Problem?

Summary: You start your dream job as a journalist, only to have a sexist co-worker and your boyfriend won't let that slide. Warnings: a misogynistic man (icky icky), fem! reader (she/her pronouns used), not proof read bc im tired, let me know if i missed anything :) Notes: hobie would NOT let that behavior slide period

You loved your job. It was your dream since middle school to be a journalist at one of the top news companies. It was everything you wanted, and more. You had the freedom to investigate what you wanted, when you wanted. You had control over how your stories looked in the paper and online, and you weren't as censored as other places were. It was perfect, except one thing.

Your co-worker, James, wasn't the most...welcoming to you or your ideas. You preferred stories about everyday people doing good things in your community, or focusing on local and small businesses. He thought that your stories weren't as gripping or enticing as they needed, and told you to try harder.

At first, you thought it was just because you were a new employee. But when his targeted critiques didn't stop, you realized it was something else. He wouldn't say the same things to your male counterparts. He also didn't respect your assistant, a sweet girl who needed a job during college. He treated her like garbage, which pissed you off even more.

You had a meeting with all the journalists to get updated on what everyone was investigating and reporting on. When you stood up and explained what you were doing, a simple piece about a bakery owned by a sweet lady and her girlfriend, James rolled his eyes and leaned over to his buddy to whisper something.

"I'm sorry, James, but I'm talking right now. You whispering is distracting me and getting me off track, I'd appreciate if you'd stop," you said calmly, trying to call him out as well.

He sighed dramatically. "Oh, I'm sorry, sweetheart. Didn't mean to hurt your precious feelings."

You wanted to slap him, but you took a deep breath and went back to what you were talking about.

----

You kicked your door shut behind you and dropped your things next to it. "Hobie, I'm home!"

You walked into your living room where Hobie was on the couch, tuning his guitar. He looked up and smiled, immediately setting his guitar aside and going over to you.

"Hey, love, how was work?" He asked, pressing a kiss to your cheek and giving you a hug.

You grumbled and hid your face in his neck.

"That bad, huh?"

You pulled away from him, pacing up and down the room. "It's my god damn co-worker! He doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut! All he does is criticize me and belittle me, along with the other women in the office, but not with the guys! That sexist piece of shit! It's just...I hate it and I can't do anything with causing a HR nightmare, and I don't wanna lose this job, Hobie. It means so much to me and I…I just can’t lose it.”

You stop and wipe the frustrated tears that had slipped down your cheeks. You look at Hobie and give him a wobbly smile. “‘M sorry, didn’t mean to explode on you like that.”

“Don’t apologize, babe. You’re frustrated, I get it,” he replied, walking over to you and running his hands up and down your arms soothingly. “How ‘bout we order your favorite take out, yeah?”

“And we can watch my favorite movie?”

“Anything you want, love.”

----

On his patrol as Spider-Man, Hobie kept his eye out for your…problematic co-worker. He didn’t know what the guy looked like, but he could figure it out. He swung by your office and took a look inside.

There was only two people left, a man and a woman. He was at his desk, sipping some drink and yelling at the poor woman who was just trying to organize some files. He eyed her like a piece of candy and yelled at her for putting the papers in the wrong place. Then, he stood up and grabbed his things before heading to the door.

Bingo.

Hobie swung down to the front doors of the building and waited for the man to walk out. A few minutes later, the man strolled out on the phone.

“Exactly, Tim. I don’t get why she got hired. She just does some stories with zero…what’s the word, content to them? I don’t know, it’s just a matter of time until she gets hit with reality. She even had the nerve to stand up to me-“

“Pardon me, mate,” Hobie said, catching the man’s attention.

The man froze at the sight of Spider-Man, hanging up the phone. Hobie glanced at his badge and saw his name.

“James, is it? Well, I heard you were giving the women you work with some grief.”

“W-what do you want?” James stuttered.

Hobie started to back him into a corner. “You know how Spider-Man believes in…fairness and what not?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Well, I believe your attitude isn’t very fair to your co-workers.”

“Listen, man, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I-“

Hobie didn’t let him finish, giving him a shove back to cut him off.

“Consider this your warning, James,” Hobie said in a low tone. “Stay away from my girl, and you won’t see me again.”

With that, he swung away, leaving James shaking like a leaf.

----

The next day, when you got home from work, you immediately went to Hobie. He was in the kitchen, fixing some dinner for the two of you.

“Hey, babe, how was work?” He asked, putting his spoon down and going to you to give you a kiss on the cheek.

“It was…good. James didn’t bother me at all, or any of the girls, actually. It was weird, but I’m not complaining.”

Hobie hummed and went back to his cooking. You tilted your head to the side, confused at his reaction. You hopped up onto the counter next to where he was working.

“Hobie…did you do something?” You asked.

“What? Nah, I don’t even know this guy,” he answered.

"Hm, okay," you said. You hopped off the counter, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and went to get changed.

Hobie smiled to himself, knowing that James wouldn't mess with you anymore.

[ddlcbrainrot]

i loveee all your thoughts abt the girls !! do u have any moniyuri hcs they like rewired my brain chemistry

HSJDJD SAME i did not get this ship at all until one day light bulbs suddenly lit up in my brain and ive never been the same since. I gotta say there is not enough content of them, except of a few one-shots here and there

So, Monika and Yuri have always been a very interesting duo imo because they are weirdly similar despite being polar opposites tropes on paper (popular girl / loner girl ). I mean, all the girls have something in common with one another but in different ways. I think both of them are really socially awkward, Yuri of course more so, with the main difference being the way they handle it. Yuri’s way of dealing with her lack of social skills is closing up, not really putting herself out there because if she does she will probably make a fool of herself, while Monika takes a more “fake it till you make it” approach (which actually works quite well considering she is the most popular girl in school and everything). Anyway, this has somehow turned into me just talking about Yuri and Monika let me backpedal to the headcanons lmao

I already mentioned their tropes, but yeah popular girl x loner girl goes HARD

We know from act 3 that Monika loves to just sit back and talk about whatever random thoughts pop in her head and Yuri loves to listen to her ramble. Sometimes Yuri gets excited about something (her books, her DND campaign, you name it) and she starts rambling to Monika. They just love talking to each other endlessly about nothing and everything

Monika is straight up obsessed with Yuri. Like, she cannot go five minutes without mentioning her if she’s having a conversation with someone else. And when Yuri is in the room? Good luck getting her attention, she’s too busy making googly eyes at her

I’d like to think the way they would get together would be the most normal one out of all the pairings, since both of them are the more outwardly mature ones of the club, but I also think they are not as mature as they would like to make you think (especially in a regard like this one). The confession would either be very organic or very awkward I really don’t know

In my natsuri headcanons I said Yuri is the little spoon, but that was with natsuki. Monika is the littlest spoon that has ever littled spooned in the history of little spooning. I will not be taking notes on this.

Both are extremely touch deprived btw, but both of them are also awkward enough to not know how to ask for cuddles, hugs, ect. Monika probably breaks out of this first tho, meaning she is the one that mostly initiates outside of a few exceptions

Yuri is always taken aback by how affectionate Monika is (mostly verbally, but also physically sometimes). She definitely doesn’t feel as comfortable being that affectionate constantly herself (especially in public) but that’s because her way of showing affection is in smaller acts that speak a lot, which Monika finds extremely sweet

I’ve seen some people headcanon that Yuri listens to classical music, so maybe Monika plays her piano sonnets from time to time

also i think they borrow each others clothes

Bonus :

Monika : “Would you still love me if I was a worm? :(“

Yuri : “Yeah, of course.” *…Why would she be a worm???*

[cakerybakery]

I don’t think I’ve really seen an Adam going through a nesting phase while pregnant, unless giving him bird traits. But it’s a thing humans do to.

So I figured it would be funny to give him one

-

Lucifer pushed the crib over to the east wall, then the dresser to the west wall next to the changing table and the rocking chair to by the window. Like he’d been told.

“Hmm, I don’t know. Would the bookshelf look better on the south wall by the window?” Adam was hovering again.

“If that’s what you desire, I can move it.” ‘Again.’ He tacked on internally.

Adam tested out the changing table and dresser. Taking a tiny outfit from the drawer without leaving the table to avoid the baby rolling off and falling if he looked away for even a moment.

Satisfied, Adam started pulling the clothing out of the drawers and reorganizing them.

Lucifer paused pushing the bookshelf over to watch as Adam took all the sleepers out of the top drawer and put all the onesies in instead. “Didn’t you just organize that yesterday?”

“Yeah, but I thought today that the onesies really should be in the top drawer because that’s the first thing that we’ll put on them. Although, maybe I should put all the small miscellaneous stuff in the top drawer?” Adam started pulling it all out again before sighing and pulling himself back up, “hang on, I gotta go to the bathroom. I moved wrong and pressed the baby against my bladder.”

Lucifer went back to pushing the bookshelf over. Setting it up next to the window by the rocking chair. With nothing else to do he figured he’d help by re-reorganizing the baby clothing. He put the tiny hats, socks, and mitten to keep the baby from scratching their face and hurting themselves by accident in neat piles in the drawer. Then onesies, then sleepers, then pants. Satisfied he’d helped, Lucifer started to wonder where Adam went.

He wandered down the hall to the bathroom off their room and found Adam on the floor with a bucket of soapy water and the shelving taken out of the linen closet. Everything that had been on the shelves in some state of disarray or freshly washed. All the towels were in the laundry hamper.

“Uhh Adam? What are you doing?”

“Cleaning. I went to change the toilet paper roll and realized the underside of the shelving was dirty so I pulled everything out to clean it.”

Lucifer just nodded, “ah, okay. You need anything?”

“No. I need from fresh water but I’ll go get that. I need to stretch my legs. My back is fucking killing me.”

“Okay. I’ll… wash the towels I guess.”

Adam kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks. You’re a life saver.”

Lucifer carried the basket to the laundry room and started the load. It wouldn’t do any good to argue that they were perfectly clean towels. Adam felt they were dirty so they needed to be washed. Lucifer was getting use to this. He hoped it didn’t last.

He went back to the master bathroom and it was exactly as he left it.

Once more he wandered the house until he found Adam in the kitchen, scrubbing a wall. “Oh thank god. Can you get behind the stove? I can’t reach and it’s filthy.”

Lucifer just agreed, picked up an extra cloth and started trying to get off the accumulated years of grease and stains off the wall. ‘At least this is actually dirty.’

He was finishing up when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it.”

“K,” Adam barely paid him any mind and went back to cleaning.

Lucifer pulled over the door and was surprised to find Eve there, “hey. I was in the neighbourhood and thought I’d pop by to see how Adam is doing.”

“He’s nesting.”

Eve put a hand on Lucifer shoulder and with a grimace, “I’m so fucking sorry for the loss of your husband’s sanity.”

“I’m going to go for a walk before he makes me reorganize the nursery, again. Can you make sure he doesn’t try to do anything dangerous by himself?” He grabbed the jacket and his hat off the hook on the wall and Eve agreed.

He was almost to the sidewalk when even from that distance he heard Adam yelling, “LUCIFER! DID YOU TOUCH THE BABY CLOTHING? ITS ALL WRONG!”

He was going for a very long walk. He’d bring back ice cream.

[creedslove]

Hello baby!

What if our favorite cowboy organizes a date with his sugar, the man literally prepares everything alone or the best he can. He organizes everything in his ranch.

It was the first time he was so excited to receive her, prepared a meal, get ready, once he finally picked her up, he was like:

"Hell, sugar... you look so goddamn precious!"

Whisky being literally being a pleaser to his sugar, he teached her how to ride one of his favourites horses, his home, he doesn't know what else to do for her.

I hope you feel much better! I send you a big hug! ✨

Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels) x f!reader

A/N: hi bestie!!! I love this so so so so much, this is such Agent Whiskey coded because he is a people's pleasure, and above all, he's a sugar pleaser, which means he'll please his sugar until the day he dies

• Whiskey is the king of date: he never lacks ideas, plans or any other thing to take his sugar on a date, he's got a wide range of creativity and money that helps a lot, so it's just a matter of picking up the mood for the day not to overdo himself

• he's definitely the kind of man who would drive you across town just so you can grab that one pie you had when you were PMSing years ago and you never forgot, or he would book you tickets for a weekend getaway if you complain about stress at work and stuff like that

• but even if he's great at pleasing, he's still a romantic at heart, so the best kinds of dates in his opinion, are the ranch dates, because he loves his ranch, it's a huge part of who he is, at his ranch, he's not just the tacky cowboy who talks funny and isn't afraid to pick a fight at places, but instead, he's himself, not Whiskey, just Jack, with his beautiful green fields, his horses, his simple life and his southern manners

• so you can expect a real weekend, because the cowboy isn't just going to invite you for a day, you're going to at least spend the night, have the whole ranch experience, all you gotta do is to say yes to it and he'll make it happen

• and he's a gentleman, let's not forget about that, so even if you insist you can drive to his ranch, chances are you aren't because he'll make sure to pick you up with his Bronco, he just wants you to take on a ride in it because he loves that car, it's pretty, comfortable, it's got status, and he's excited to be seen driving around with you in the passenger seat, just as he's excited to see you wearing your cute sunglasses as your hair flies loose at the window

• that if he doesn't gift you a cowboy hat the minute he picks you up, because yeah, he is gonna buy you a stetson, he just doesn't know when he's gonna give it to you, so why not in the beginning of the adventure, anyway?!

• and let me tell you: that cowboy's ranch is simply gorgeous! He will be so proud and happy to show you around, knowing exactly where to take you and what to do with you there, giving you a tour through the main house that's big and comfortable af obviously and then taking you to the stables so you can see the animals and play with them and all of them

• now, hear me: he loves horses, he's been riding them forever so if you know how to ride them, he will be glad to do so with your company, but if you don't, Jack will be thrilled to teach you from the very beginning, from how to actually get on the horse, to where to hold it and gentle guide it until you are feeling safe

• if the weather is hot enough, you can also expect him to take you swimming out at the lake, because let's face it: do you think Jack Daniels didn't grow up swimming in those waters around the ranch? He knows all the nice and pretty spots to take girls by the way, and you won't be different at all

• in the evening, you can expect him to throw a barbecue or just smoke some meat, but the thing is: it's gonna be outside, it's dark, warm and the lights will be on, making the ranch look so nice, although it's a little bit empty too, but it's a good thing since it's just the two of you spending time together; he'll serve you appetizers, the main dish, and the best liquor Statesman is capable of producing

• and yeah, he will roast marshmallows by the fire and tell you ghost stories about that land as if you two were in a summer camp together, and even if you know there's a big fat chance he's lying, you will still feel slight shivers down your spine and you will cling to him just a little bit tighter once the howling wind blows

• but once you two get back inside, it's sweet sweet love making with a sugar coated cowboy, where you can't have enough of him and he can't get enough of you, loving your body all night long and of course he'll greet you in the morning with breakfast in bed because he's a romantic at heart

• so chances are, you're gonna spend the morning in bed, enjoying the big breakfast and the cowboy's sugar and in the afternoon, he's definitely taking you for a picnic, with everything you're entitled to: a beautiful basket, a nice plaid towel, mini sandwiches and cake, all he wants is to spoil you

• watching the sunset together as you enjoy this romantic time is great, but as soon as the sun sets, he's gonna give you puppy eyes, asking you to stay the night once more, not ready to let you go home just yet 🥺❤️

____

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  Pricklywhicket/@messessentialist ! Prickleywhicket has four fics published to AO3 -- All in the Steddie tag!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by pricklywhicket:

so let's sneak in from the cheap seats, honey

it's supposed to be fun (turning twenty-one)

start by pulling him out of the fire

"Sadie is so super talented in the way she describes literally everything. She is so good at writing and it's a shame that she's flown under the radar because she's not the quickest at putting things out there." -- Anonymous

Below the cut, Pricklywhicket answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

Why do any of us write anything? Because we want the story to exist in the world, and it doesn’t yet, so we gotta hike up our pants and do it ourselves!

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Hurt/Comfort. I’m always a sucker for the blorbos taking care of one another, in whatever form that takes. This has always been true, across a truly astronomical number of fandoms I’ve found myself dabbling in over the years.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

…actually, probably hurt/comfort! I just need to get those little dudes some validation and unconditional positive regard, okay?

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

I’m sure I won’t be the first one to say this, but: I HAVE TO PICK ONE????? Okay, alright. I can do this. I’m gonna say…Sanctuary by SpicedSage.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’ve only written canon or canon-adjacent fic so far, so I’m eager to work on something that’s completely AU. I think there’s a unique challenge to keeping characters recognizable as themselves in a world that might not have all the same contexts that made them into that person.

What is your writing process like?

I would love to say it’s super organized and well-planned, but the truth is it’s mostly about routine and responsibility. I set aside time to do it every day, even if I can only tap out a few sentences. I’m not very strict about writing in a straight line - I can stop a scene if it’s giving me trouble, write a note about what I think happens in some [brackets], and move on to something that I have more fully fleshed-out ideas for. Sometimes writing the next scene helps you know more about what needs to happen in the current one. 

Do you have any writing quirks?

I'm sure my betas would say yes 🙃 I tend to write a lot of dialogue - a lot of my revision process is going back through and realizing I have two pages of a conversation with no indication of what’s physically happening in the world around the speakers.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Definitely when I’m finished. Prior to my ‘23 bang fic, I had never written anything chaptered. I knew going in that I could NOT start posting if it wasn’t finished, because I’ve been burned too many times by abandoned works. I didn’t want to do that to people reading my fic, and the best way to avoid it is to finish before you post.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Easily start by pulling him out of the fire. The biggest, most ambitious thing I’ve ever attempted - I still kind of can’t believe I wrote 85k.

How did you get the idea for start by pulling him out of the fire?

Like most terrible ideas, it was spawned in a fandom discord chat. We were discussing the tendency of Steddie fics to centralize the party at Steve’s house, because his parents are never there anyway. And then someone mentioned what if the parents came home and found their house occupied, and someone else mentioned Wayne being there, and it just sort of…spiraled out from there.

When writing start by pulling him out of the fire, what was something you didn’t expect?

I had no idea, going in, that I was going to write a comprehensive history of the Wayne and Eddie Munson relationship. I started writing it where I did to give some background on Wayne’s existing distaste for the elder Harrington, and then I just…kept writing. Over the course of a month or two I wrote 20k of WayneAndEddie that I had no idea was in me - it just kept coming.

What inspired it's supposed to be fun (turning twenty-one)?

@wynnyfryd. It was a gift for her birthday. We were talking about our mutual love of Letterkenny, and she mentioned that the episode was her favorite and wouldn’t it be funny if someone wrote… and the rest is history.

What was your favorite part to write from it's supposed to be fun (turning twenty-one)?

I had an unreasonable amount of fun with that one in general. But I think my favorite part was Eddie polling the party about what Steve means to them all. It was fun to sort of put myself in each character’s shoes and think about how they would answer. Plus y’know, any excuse to unironically love on Steve Harrington.

How do/did you feel writing so let's sneak in from the cheap seats, honey?

I believe my exact words upon deciding to write it were “jingles miserably to a blank google doc.” This was a classic case of saying “god I wish there was a fic where—” and having friends tell me that it was now my responsibility to write it. I’m glad I did, though. I love that story, and it proved to me that I could write sex and publish it and not burst into flames. I also just really, really love summer storms. And Wayne’s use of the singular ‘herpe.’

What was the most difficult part of writing so let's sneak in from the cheap seats honey?

Getting over the fear of publishing something E-rated. It was just something I hadn’t done, and I had a lot of anxiety that people were not going to respond well to it. I made three people individually review the sex scenes before I even asked anyone to beta the full fic. Of course I was worried for nothing, the reception for that fic was super lovely and gave me the confidence boost I needed to attempt start by pulling him out of the fire!

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

This is like asking me to pick a favorite child. I’ll say this: most of my favorite lines in start by pulling him out of the fire were taken directly from conversations @wormdebut and I had about the fic. She’s my number one cheerleader and sounding board, and sometimes she’s so goddamn funny that I just have to include it. You have her to thank, for instance, for Steve quite literally dropping his croissant when he first sees Eddie in glasses.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I have a couple of irons in the fire, but nothing I’m ready to share just yet! I’ve been taking a breather from writing (blame baldur’s gate 3, okay) but my WIPs are still very much IP. Stay tuned!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Not that I can think of!

Thank you to our author, Pricklywhicket, and our anonymous nominator! See more of pricklywhicket's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[oomisluvr]

No Caller ID

Your job at The Agency was simple. In fact, there was only one rule: Don’t lose track of your field agent. Unfortunately for you, Agent K is a difficult man to find.

warnings: agent!sakusa x handler!reader, international espionage, i was going for a james bond vibe, no graphic violence but there is a teeny bit of violence, hq! cameos that aren’t important to the story but i thought were fun to include, open ending i think, flirting (???), honestly freeform, i wrote this in 1 sitting lol, sfw, 1.8k words!

You’re on a date the first time he calls you. 

The guy you’re out with is nice. Doesn’t interrupt you. Asks about your day. Laughs at all your jokes and pretends not to look down your shirt while the two of you eat. He works in IT, so you know he’s fairly well-off, too. 

It’s too bad this is just to keep up appearances.

Your phone rings with no caller ID and you have to stop your eyes from bulging out of your head. In this line of work, it’s best to keep personal calls separate from ongoing projects. For organization reasons. For safety precautions.

It’s for this reason that you have two cell phones. The first is for private calls, to keep up with the life your current alibi would be living. The second phone is for The Agency.

And you’ve never received a call from your second phone before.

You excuse yourself from the table with a practiced smile, adjusting your clothing as you stand. Your date nods. Understanding, as expected. He didn’t notice that you took your purse with you. He must think you’re coming back.

Exiting the restaurant, you pick up the phone with a nervous hand, unsure of what to expect, “This is Pluto speaking.”

“Pluto? Who the fuck is that?” A man’s voice grunts, panting loudly and very obviously out of breath, “What happened to Rin?” 

You clear your throat, “Rin has since left The Agency. I’m Pluto, his replacement.”

“That bastard. You’ve gotta be fucking kidding–” Sharp pops echo through the speaker. Possibly gunshots. The cursing that follows suggests that those were most likely gunshots. Everything is so loud.

“Agent K, if you’re requesting for backup, I can send over the twins–”

“Absolutely not. No backup, especially not from them.” Based on proximity, you can tell it’s K who fires next. Two quick rounds, followed by two dull thuds. Bullseye? “Everything is under control. Get me to Croatia before midnight tomorrow.”

The call ends.

The second time he calls you is to complain about the first time.

You defend yourself with all the aggression of a caged circus bear.

K quickly learns not to complain about your work.

Two months pass. 

Your job at The Agency was simple.

Fortunately, there was only one rule: Don’t lose track of your field agent.

Unfortunately for you, Agent K is a difficult man to find.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up!” You scream into the phone. You’ve combed through the security feeds of every private business, traffic cam, and ATM machine, but still no sight of him.

The ringing stops, an easy voice floating through the phone, “Hello?”

“Why the fuck aren’t you in Buenos Aires?” You all but yell, “I’ve been searching for you for hours.” It’s silent on the other end of the receiver. You continue your verbal assault, “Are you even in Argentina? In South America at all?”

K snorts. “Where do you think I am?”

You’re furious, “How did you leave the airport without me knowing? I booked your tickets myself. I made the passport you’re using–”

“Don’t worry about it.” He cuts you off, “Do you really want to know where I am?”

His tone calms you, just long enough to answer, “Yes.”

“A baby shower.”

“A… baby shower?” You repeat dumbly.

“Well, I’m not physically at the baby shower, that would be a breach of contract. I’m sitting in an unmarked car, about 100 feet from the festivities. Watching my little sister open her gifts. She doesn’t even know I’m here.” He sighs, and it’s so different from anything else you’ve heard from him. “Nobody does.”

People who do what K does rarely ever have families. Alive, that is. You wonder how old he was when he left home, if his parents know what he does for a living. If they even know he’s alive. 

Instead you ask, “Will you be having a niece or a nephew?”

He chuckles to himself, but it’s humorless. Empty. “That’s what I’m waiting to find out. I think the reveal is after they cut the cake. My sister is greedy enough to make everyone wait.”

You’re silent for a moment, at a genuine loss of words. The silence feels comfortable, and whether you’d like to admit it or not, you’ve gotten attached to Agent K. Fond, even. Just knowing he’s on the other end of the line, alive and breathing and not being shot at, gives you an enormous sense of relief.

You stare into the monitors ahead of you, at the sheer number of tabs you’ve opened, the energy you expended to make sure he’s safe.

“How did you get into this line of work?”

“Me?”

“Yes,” you can hear the sarcasm dripping from his voice, “You.” 

Nobody has ever asked you that. Nobody is allowed to ask that, you think. “I had an internship the summer after I graduated. My boss at the time has some sort of connection to The Agency. She said I should apply and that she’d put in a good word. My interview was the next day, and I was officially hired by the end of the month.”

It’s silent for a beat, “You do realize you failed the test, right?”

“Excuse me?”

“You aren’t supposed to divulge any personal information to me or any other agents,” He quips, “Especially not any information regarding The Agency.”

“Well,” You start, “You aren’t supposed to run away from missions and lie to your handler about where you are!”

K laughs. An actual laugh. “Touche. Though I’m not running away from anything. This is simply… a brief layover.”

“Whatever. I’ve already booked you a flight from Hyogo to Buenos Aires.”

“You’re sharp, Pluto.” There’s pleasant surprise in his voice, and pride flares in your veins at having caught him off guard, “How’d you know I was in Japan?”

“Don’t worry about it.” You repeat his own words back to him, “Your flight leaves at 8:30PM, Japan Standard Time. Think you can make it by then?”

“Yes, ma’am.” K huffs, “Is that all?”

“Yeah,” you say, “And I’ll be sure not to include this ‘brief layover’ in my reports.”

“Thank you.” He says, and you can tell it’s genuine. For a moment, you feel appreciated, before he adds, “And from now on, please refrain from using fishing boats as a means of escape.”

“Give me enough of a heads up and I won’t have to.” You fight back a smile, recalling your first encounter, and the angry call you got 16 hours later, “But if you ever lie to me again about where you are, I’m leaving you stranded.” It’s a lie. In reality, if it came between you and him, you’re the expendable one. 

“Deal.” He confirms, “Oh, and, Pluto?”

“Yes?”

“It seems like I’ll be having a niece.”

These days, your phone never stops ringing. Your second phone, that is.

“Where are you?” He preens through the phone. It’s the last question you’re expecting. You’re at a cocktail dinner for your job. The fake one. The one that The Agency placed you at to keep up appearances.

“Company dinner. Is there anything I can help you with?”

You’ve leaned over the balcony, nursing something with too much sugar and not enough alcohol. The venue is beautiful, probably some millionaire’s summer home, resting on a lavish hill and overlooking the ocean. The party blazes loudly behind you, a stark contrast to the stillness of the sea.

“Yeah. There is, actually.” He decides, “What are you wearing?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your clothes.” His voice is so smooth, sentences dancing off his tongue like a lullaby. “You’re wearing a purple dress, right? Say, is that silk?”

Your breath catches in your throat, your body suddenly alert at the implication of being watched, “Yes,” you find your voice again, making subtle movements to analyze your surroundings, “It was my mother’s.”

He hums, and part of you can hear a smirk in his voice, “Thought so.”

It bothers you that you’ve no clue what he looks like. How many times have you run into him without knowing? K was one of the most talented of this generation, able to adopt and shed identities as if they were clothing, able to blend into any crowd at any time, more dangerous than any traditional weapon. How many times has he been a friendly face on the street, a shadowy figure at the bar, and you simply had no idea?

“On your left.”

A man approaches you, dressed handsomely in a well-tailored suit. Shaggy orange hair falls into his bright eyes. His footsteps are quiet, practiced, holding a corsage in his right hand. 

Without sparing a moment, he transfers the flowers from his grasp to yours before spinning on his heels and disappearing into the crowd once again. Your words die in the back of your throat.

The corsage is simple, but pretty. Purple petals to compliment your dress. Tied around it is a small gift box. You return your attention to the phone, “What’s this?”

“A thank you.” He says, “And an apology. And something else. Open it.”

You do. It’s a cartier bracelet, thousands of dollars worth of gold. You flip it over to find your name engraved into the metal. Your real name. You gasp.

“Congratulations on the promotion.” He says your name so differently than anyone has ever said it. You trace the letters in your palm, just faint enough that only you would notice. Just faint enough that you could keep it, and not have it jeopardize your position.

“Just doing my job.” You conveniently left out that the company celebration was for you. Well, you and the five other people who received promotions this quarter. Of course K would find out.

”Don’t get smart with me,” He groans, “But consider it an apology as well. I would have loved to be there with you tonight. You’re brilliant, and I’m lucky to have you on my team.”

You idly watch the yachts float by, some illuminated with neon lights, and some brightened with floodlights. If you squint, you can make out the fishing boat just barely kissing the shore. And the shadowy figure perched upon it.

“Don’t feel bad,” You hum, “Something tells me you aren’t too far off.”

“Goodnight, Pluto.”

“Goodnight, K.”

The call ends. 

You clip the corsage around your wrist and return to the party.

i though this would be a fun little story! ok bye love as always, niko ♡

[kateweathermachine2]

I’m 12 years late to it but let’s ramble about Scylla

Of course it took the Wisdom Saga nearly dropping for me to finally finish this

This may be a collective organized rant or it’s (more likely) gonna be a super-ramble nonsense jumble pile of me trying to words

A bit of background- I got into Epic right around the time the Ocean Saga released; I quickly got obsessed (as one does) and have watched a bunch of Jorge’s older shorts on the making of different songs, including just about everything I could find on Scylla’s song. I was enamored by the vocals Jorge teased us with and as the Thunder Saga drew nearer, Scylla was hands-down the song I was most hyped for.

And BY GOLLY I WAS NOT DISAPPOINTED. I was blown away by Scylla on the livestream. Everything- the vocals, the instrumentals, the visuals- came together beautifully and I’m gonna ramble about it

But to really see Odysseus through this we gotta start with Suffering (which is an absolute bop); specifically when the siren tells Odysseus about Scylla. When she first says Scylla, Odysseus is repellent of that option, judging by his immediate “no”. He isn’t immediately on board. He doesn’t want to sacrifice his crew. And (even though we all knew this was coming) it takes the rest of Suffering and Different Beast before we finally see that he’s willing to go through with it in the opening of Scylla (what with him saying “this is our only way home” and all that).

Parts of Scylla sound like a waltz!! I haven’t noticed anyone else mention that yet. Maybe it’s just me. But in the first section during the “deep down”s and Ody/Eury dialogue the chords all sound waltz-y to me.

Odysseus only has a few lines in this song as well as some interesting parts when he doesn’t speak.

His very first lines- “the lair of Scylla… this is our only way home” aren’t in the same harsh tone as Different Beast. To me it sounds like he’s trying to justify his decision to himself. He has to go through with this. It’s the only way that he’ll get back to Ithica.

Contrast this with his tone as he speaks to Eurylochus- “not much to say”. It’s back to being rough and hard. He’s closing himself off to the rest of his crew, including Eurylochus. He’s becoming the monster to them. (Rawr rawr rawr)

The confession scene- THE CONFESSION SCENE MY GOODNESS. Honestly I wasn’t exactly expecting Eurylochus to have opened the bag but I’m not surprised either. It was a very “ahhh” moment for me. And Scylla’s words-

I’ve seen a few posts talking about how they believed Scylla’s words were directed to Eurylochus in this scene, but I never thought that was the case. I think Jay deliberately created the parallel there, but Eurylochus doesn’t seem like he’s *hearing* Scylla yet. (Remember- later on, he says “something approaches” as if that’s the first he’s seeing/hearing of Scylla.) No, these lyrics are meant for Odysseus, and what he’s about to do. Not to say there isn’t any relevance to Eurylochus here- “you hide a reason for shame … leaving them feeling betrayed / breaking the bonds that you’ve made” alternate with Eurylochus’s apology, as they shed light on what Eurylochus *had* done as well as what Odysseus was *going* to do. There is a strong parallel here- but it’s not Eurylochus Scylla is talking to. (This is also supported by the lyrics “you know that we are the same” and “we both know what it takes to survive”, neither of which have much relevance to Eurylochus here.) The lyric “you know that we are the same” is an interesting one, but I’ll get back to it later.

So Odysseus basically ghosts Eurylochus- and yes he’s probably furious about the wind bag incident but I think another reason for his silence is because he’s been hearing Scylla. Odysseus can’t forgive nor blame Eurylochus because he’s about to betray Eurylochus right back. Maybe he just can’t face speaking to Eurylochus with what he’s about to do.

Did anyone else at this point realize the sole purpose of the song “Full Speed Ahead” was for nothing more than to create a motif to be used absolutely everywhere

Then we get to Odysseus’s first words to Eurylochus! When first listening I could feel my heart dropping, as did likely everyone else who knew about Scylla from the Odyssey. But the DELIVERY. The simple DELIVERY of those CONDEMNING LINES- Eurylochus doesn’t even react to this order. This is really how you know that he- and the rest of the crew- don’t know where they’re headed. (I’ve seen plenty of people talk about Eurylochus’s thoughts during this scene and afterward so I’m not gonna tread over that same ground.) All I can say is my heart sank.

Did anyone else think about the lack of a “danger is near” motif in this song? I’ve heard a possible modified version in the song (1:14 if anyone wants to listen for it), but it doesn’t fully fit, and nowhere else is a hint of this theme shown. And there’s clearly about to be danger in this song- for six of Odysseus’s crew, that is. I think the reason we can’t hear a “danger is near” motif in this song because there isn’t a danger for Odysseus, and that’s who the danger is near motif is for. After all, the motif was present in “Mutiny”, right *after* they got through the danger of Scylla. Just another something cool I’ve found that I haven’t seen anyone else comment on before.

“Captain, something approaches”

“Hello.”

The DRUMS ON EACH BEAT, the VIOLIN RUNS, all with the background SHEPARD TONES falling and then rising, the SUSPENSE- THE ***SUSPENSE***

Before Scylla came out, I repeatedly watched the Scylla audition call video Jay put out, and from that I had the thought that the buildup section would be much shorter. Boy was that not the case and boy was that such a good decision the more I think about it. You really feel the suspense gradually build like it does for the crew, first seeing the vague shapes of Scylla and slowly having more and more revealed in the torchlight before the heads pounce.

Not to mention Scylla’s voice actor is amazing. She does a wonderful job of the smooth, almost angelic voice at the beginning and end, but in the chorus?! Jay’s videos on it didn’t do this justice! The MONSTROUS way she growls, the HARMONIES that come in in the second chorus- not to mention the crazy drums and other music in the background adding to the chaos.

And in the background you can *hear* when each man is scooped up, when each man is being devoured. Once again you’re right there with the crew, hearing your fellow friends get eaten. It’s not something I would expect to hear in the official song when their deaths aren’t the main focus during the chorus (the main focus being Scylla herself), but props to Jay for adding that detail.

One thing I noticed in the amazing animatic done for this section that I haven’t noticed many people specifically point out yet, is how Eurylochus doesn’t seem to catch on it’s the torches that are signaling to Scylla which men to eat until *after* he passes his own on. You can see it in the horror on his face as he looks at the second-to-last torch drop, then as he turns to the final man, the man he’d given his torch to (as he presumably went to try and help someone else from getting eaten? That’s how I interpret him leaving the torch with the final guy, like a “I need both hands for this” kind of thing).

Then the END- after the rampage- the final “We must do what it takes to survive”- it quiets down, the waltzy pattern comes back out, and the final line- “We are the same, you and I”

Back to that previous lyric I mentioned, “you know that we are the same”. Near the beginning of the song when I heard it, the lyric recalled to my mind that villain trope of “we’re not so different” (I think that’s a trope). And here at the end of the song that sentiment is repeated- and Odysseus SINGS WIRH HER. He AGREES. Up until now Odysseus hasn’t acknowledged Scylla talking to him, but here he’s given into the thought that yes, now he *is* the monster - to both his enemies *and* his crew. (Rawr rawr rawr)

And that’s how Scylla’s become one of my absolute favorite songs from Epic

[dom1re]

Hi 👋🏽 I so admire your arts too!! If it’s ok, I’d love to know more about your approach to shading and rendering. I always find your use of colour so calming and complementary. 💖💖

Whereas I tend to be over saturated and why I often draw in greyscale

When I read that you liked my arts too I died. I was down on the floor. Crying tears of joy. Then I realized I have a response to draft so I got up.

So here ya go!! I hope you find something interesting here. I organized it into 3 parts for easier reading:

Rendering Overview

Picking Colors

Shading (or winging it and hoping for the best)

Also if anyone has any tips I'm all ears!! I’m always trying to optimize my process, make it quicker + cleaner

Rendering Overview

My current rendering process on Procreate (click and swipe):

1. Rough sketches

This is where I try to get the anatomy and pose right. I can get up to 3 reps in here depending on how refined I want it to be. Yep I care a lot about my lines...

2. Clean line

... coz it's my favorite part!! I get such a dopamine rush seeing the sketches come together into a clean line lol. Here I use the Selection Tool and Liquify to resize and adjust the forms (gotta move away from doing this too much tho)

3. Color

First I create a flat base layer and color over it using Clipping Mask (pretty standard I think). Then I divvy my drawing into as many layers as possible - one each for skin, hair, shirt, waistcoat, trousers, etc - as I color them all. More on this below.

4. Shade

ewww shading... my least favorite part. I use Multiply layers and gray colors, again pretty standard. I usually have 1-3 layers here, stacked on one another, depending on the desired depth. More on this below.

5. Finishing touches

This stage involves a lot of small (but important imo) things, which vary depending on the drawing:

Tinting lines (Because shading makes the colors darker, lines need to get darker too)

Highlights on hair, face, clothes, eyes, etc. I can never make up my mind between Overlay/Hard Light/Soft Light layers for this

Little wisps of hair or lighting effects 

and voila I have something to share with the world. wooo

Picking Colors

Ok about my colors… I wish I had some fancy technique to show but tbh I just eyeball them and try them out a bunch. Now if I’m using a reference I could use the color picker, but I don't like to coz the results are way off for whatever reasons (ex. lighting in the img). Anyways it doesn’t have to be the same color as the reference; as long as the colors “make sense” to me I'm happy.

But what if the colors I chose are too saturated or too dark? I use the Adjustment Tools for this. I can just select the layer (or an area using the Selection Tool) and edit its darkness and saturation. I found this way easier than painting over or color-dropping repeatedly.

This is why I leverage as many layers as possible. It allows a modular control on my rendering - I can change the color of my character’s skin, eyes, or waistcoat patterns and keep all other components unaffected and clean. Sometimes I have like 100+ layers and it drives me batshit crazy but the pros still outweigh the cons. Or so I tell myself

( + I would love to understand grayscale and use it as freely as u do. I watched bunch of vids on it but something about it just hasn’t stuck with me yet 😔)

Shading I guess

Similar to coloring, I create several Multiply layers and stack them together for depth. For example:

This is again for that modular control but honestly I wouldn't be doing this if I was good at shading... I feel so lost every time, I just don't know how it works. But one ‘hack’ I’ve come up with is shading skins and clothes differently. I use reddish gray for skin (and brown/red hair), and just gray for everything else.

The character feels more lively and natural with a bit of red undertones in their skin. I don't think this is the best way to render skins though. Just a little shortcut til I get to study the topic more.

Something else I do to get over my fear of shading is using good references. I’m always lurking on Pinterest for them but alas, I can’t always find that perfect image with perfect lighting and poses. It’s kinda sad funny how the quality of my rendering depends so much on the reference:

(it's not a 'bad' reference per se - I chose it really for the pose, not for shading)

At the end of the day tho I’m just a learning artist so I try not to be too harsh on myself. Someday I'll render shiny shoes and shirt creases without refs. I yearn for that day 

Well on that cheerful note thanks for coming to my Ted Talk your interest in my rendering approach! I’ve been wanting to document it for my own records so this was great.

I picked up digital illustration just last year and self-learning it has been a fun but lonely process. If you have any tips or more questions talk to me ANYONE PLEASE I’m dying to talk about it if you can't tell by the sheer length of this post. For which I'm sorry but hopefully it wasn’t too dense a read ok I’m really done now bye!!