#^_^ asks are always welcome but not forced

[isaadore]

OFF THE GRID LEWIS HAMILTON

pairing lewis hamilton x streamer!reader

SUMMARY as a successful twitch streamer, you’ve built up a following of dedicated fans. among them are carlos sainz and fernando alonso, whom you’ve known forever. but after an invitation to the paddock, things get interesting when you meet lewis hamilton, someone you’ve had a secret crush on for years. word count 0.7k words

warnings fluff, mentions of age gap

note requested!

MAIN MASTERLIST LH44 MASTERLIST

STREAMING ON TWITCH had been an unexpected career path, but it worked. Between gaming, chatting, and hosting surprise appearances from Carlos Sainz and Fernando Alonso, your channel has grown into something special. They’d become good friends, and you’d gotten used to their teasing and the easy bond you shared on camera. Still, you hadn’t mentioned the one secret crush lingering in the background: Lewis Hamilton.

It wasn’t the most realistic crush, maybe, but there was something about him. His confidence and undeniable skill drew you in. Not to mention, he was much older than you. You were sure he didn’t even know you existed.

Then one day, you were mid-stream with Carlos when he casually dropped the invitation that changed everything.

"Why don't you come to the race in Spain?" he asked with a grin, reading through the chat that was going wild over the idea. "I’ll get you a pass. You could see what it's really like instead of just watching on TV."

The chat cheered him on, throwing in all-caps encouragement, so with a laugh, you agreed. But as the race weekend crept closer, the nerves hit. Going into the paddock felt surreal; it wasn’t just about Carlos and Fernando; it was also about Lewis. There was a chance, however small, you might actually meet him.

The paddock buzzed with energy and attention. As you walked in, cameras flashed, and you felt the weight of curious eyes on you, but Carlos's warm welcome helped you relax. He showed you around, introducing you to drivers and team members until, eventually, you found yourself standing outside the Mercedes garage.

And there he was: Lewis Hamilton. He turned, noticing Carlos and then you, his gaze soft and curious. You took a breath and forced yourself to stay calm.

"Hey, Carlos," he greeted, and then his eyes shifted to you, that famous smile flickering to life. “And this must be your friend?”

Carlos introduced you, but you could barely focus, watching as Lewis’s expression turned to something closer to intrigue. You found yourself talking, laughing, and answering his questions as the minutes blurred by. It felt... easy. Unforced. There was a depth to him that surprised you, and you were startled by how comfortable you felt like you hadn’t just met the guy.

After the race, you ended up exchanging numbers, something you’d hardly dared imagine at the start of the weekend. Yet Lewis had insisted, his tone casual but his expression unmistakably genuine.

Over the next few weeks, you exchanged messages, keeping it light at first. He asked about your streaming, watched a few clips, and soon enough, he was showing up in the chat from time to time, keeping his profile low but always watching. When he finally asked if you’d want to meet up for coffee during a break in his schedule, it took all your self-control to play it cool.

At the café, conversation flowed easily again, and by the end, you found yourself wondering if he felt it too. You were aware of the age gap, and no doubt others would be too. But if it bothered Lewis, he didn’t show it.

“I know there’s some extra attention that might come with this,” he admitted over coffee, glancing up from his cup. “But for what it’s worth… I’d like to keep seeing you.”

You paused, the weight of his words settling in. “Are you sure? You know people will probably have something to say about it.”

“I’m not concerned with what people think,” he said simply, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “If you’re not, that is.”

Once your relationship went public, the inevitable comments rolled in. Age gap, rumours, endless speculation; the internet did its thing, but over time, people grew used to seeing you around. Carlos and Fernando both stood by you, treating it as nothing more than the natural next step, while your fans cheered you on, and even a few critics gradually quieted down.

Though life moved forward, now with race weekends as a regular fixture, the best moments were the quiet ones; streaming from a hotel room after the race, laughing at Lewis’s occasional surprise appearances, and sharing conversations with him that no one else got to see.

In the end, you knew it was real because it was just the two of you talking about everything and nothing, just as you always had.

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ MAIN MASTERLIST ✷ LH44 MASTERLIST

[beloveds-embrace]

Helloo!!

Can i request a poly!141 with like a reader who is super spiritual, or like maybe is a witch?? I'm curious as to how authors would write it!

Please and thank you!

Okay but covens being like bonds? Pack bonds? Soulmate bonds?? Yes.

It’s late, and the forest is alive with the sounds of nightfall. Flickering candlelight glows in a protective circle around you as you settle into place, heart fluttering in anticipation. You’ve been waiting for this- the night when the ritual will bind your coven. A deep soul bond, tying you to the men you trust more than anyone else in the world. Trust that did not come easy, but will also not fall easy. Trust earned and cherished.

Johnny appears first, his grin breaking through the shadows like sunshine, like the silver lining found on any dark cloud. He looks at you with the spark of mischief that always makes your heart beat faster and your grin widen in equal excitement. “Didnae think we’d be bondin’ like this, aye?” he teases, nudging your shoulder before settling down next to you, pecking a little kiss on your warm cheek. “Magic an’ all- it’s still mad tae me, even though I grew up wi’ it.”

“Wild’s one way to put it,” Kyle murmurs as he steps into the circle, casting a knowing look at Johnny. His smile is soft as he takes his place on your other side, fingers brushing against yours in a silent hello, and then intertwines your fingers in a gentle squeeze. “Evening, baby.”

You smile, squeezing back. “Evening, love.” His presence alone is enough to calm the beating of your heart, soothed and lulled. You adore him.

Simon joins you all then, a looming, quiet presence wrapped in the darkness of the night. He moves without a sound, but his energy is magnetic, always pulling you in. He’d always huff in amusement whenever you’d nestle in his lap and insist that he was like the heaviest star in the galaxy, always drawing you in the orbit of his gravity. And now, his gloved hand touches yours, gentle yet firm, and you feel the warmth of his magic seeping into you, grounding you.

Finally, John arrives, bringing with him a feeling of such steadfastness and strength you know you can always depend on him- a mountain, unbending against all forces. He kneels across from you, completing the circle, his warm gaze softened further by the candlelight. Always made you so warm and cozy whenever he’d looked at you like that. “Ready, darlin’?” he asks, his voice a quiet rumble that fills the clearing.

With a nod, you take a deep breath, holding out your hands. Each of them reaches forward, linking their hands with yours until the five of you are connected. The moment your hands clasp, you feel it- a surge of energy flowing through you, powerful and comforting all at once. Your heart pounds in rhythm with theirs, the pulsing magic binding you all together like an invisible thread- one that turns into visible ink on your conjoined hands and fingers, golden like the sun.

You speak the incantation, each word drawing out your power, your intentions, your love. The air hums as the bond settles into place, weaving around each of you in turn. Warmth blooms in your chest, growing stronger as the spell reaches its peak. The sensation is overwhelming, but it’s right, as natural as breathing.

When the magic fades, you’re left feeling… whole. Connected in a way you’ve never been before and leaves you uteerly breathless for a few, simple seconds. You open your eyes and see your coven looking back at you, each face filled with the same wonder and warmth.

Johnny grins, squeezing your hand. “So, that’s it, huh? No backing out now, our witch.”

Kyle chuckles, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. The golden ink is slowly dimming, but you swear you can still feel it engrave itself under your skin, welcomed. “Guess you’re stuck with us.”

Simon’s silence is filled with a sense of unspoken understanding, his gaze warm under his mask and he doesn’t lift his eyes off you at all, only to close them when you let go of Johnny and Kyle’s hands to cup his face. Words are needed between the two of you. Never has been, really.

John gives you a small nod, gripping where your shoulder and neck meet firmly. The touch sends sparks through you, and you can see his smile deepen. “This is family,” he says softly, his voice filled with a quiet strength. “Always. You’ve always been ours, witch, but now you are fully ours.”

In that moment, you know- this isn’t just magic. It’s a promise, a bond forged by more than spells. It’s love, protection, and loyalty, and as you sit there with your coven, you know you’ll never face the world alone.

[lostintransist]

Seamstress | Part 4

Part 1 here.

John lets the men simmer for two days. Mostly he lets their trip to his seamstress ride to see if they brought it up to him. They didn’t. Guess he would be playing this the sly way.

“Found an old quilt from my grandmother when cleaning out my mum’s house last leave.”

Johnny’s brain sparked on the word association just as John hoped it would.

“Found out I can get my family kilts fixed up and preserved. Met a pretty lass who runs a shop that said it was a possibility.”

“Oh?” John folded his arms across his chest, encouraging Johnny to go on by tilting his head in interest.

“Yeah, pretty bird, kicked us out when we started asking about-”

He cut himself off pretty quick but John gave him a small scary smile.

“Asking about who, Johnny?”

Johnny started to back up, hands raised as he babbled his excuses.

“Finish your excuses and go get the guys.”

Johnny turned tail and fled from the room. His muppets filed in the room, Johnny getting forced by the neck by Simon who glared down at him. Must have wanted to keep this a secret. Should have known better than to tell Johnny. The man couldn’t keep a non-life-threatening secret to save anyone’s life. Kyle and Gary slid in after the duo.

“Muppets. You will leave my seamstress well enough alone or I will make it a problem for you.”

“So she is yours?” Gary piped up from the side.

Shooting him a glare John continued.

“I am grown enough to not explain myself to the lot of you, but if I get a call again about any of you bothering her I will make it everyone’s problem.”

Kyle smirked and spoke out one side of his mouth.

“Seems like Price can’t get a date.”

“Kyle I swear to my god and yours I will make you disappear if you keep it up. If your clothes go missing, just know they will be back. Now get out of here the lot of you.”

His men shared smiles and eye contact.

They hustled from the room when he picked up his blackened coffee mug to throw at one of them.

“Fucking muppets going to send me to an early grave. I don’t even have her phone number yet,” he mumbled to himself as the back of them disappeared.

🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡

You think about John far more often than you should. He is a customer. Yes, he sleeps in your chairs and smiles at you in a way that pulls his cheeks to the moon, and yes he makes your heart flutter the tiniest bit but, but he is a customer who has never shown interest and you refuse to make someone feel uncomfortable in your shop. Your shop was a safe space, for everyone. Your flags are on clear display, so many, many flags, made sure of it.

He stepped through your thoughts carelessly. When you were wandering a superstore you somehow ended up in the camping section. A clearance foldable cot caught your eye and left the store with you. You maneuvered it into your tiny car and into the shop without allowing yourself to question why you had bought it.

John appeared two mornings following your purchase. You smile, wider than you should, at him.

“Hi John, welcome back! Got anything new and interesting for me today?”

Did you sound too chipper?

“Nothing crazy, one of my men needs a mask fixed.”

“Do you always bring in their items? I hope they are paying you at least,” you joke as you take the offered mask.

Spreading it on the counter you look it over, a tear over one ear and one from the eye portion. Both are decently easy fixes but would require your ring light and some time with a hand needle.

Looking up you offer John another smile. Fuck, can you keep the smiles to a minimum? He is going to think you are weird and then stop coming by.

“This shouldn’t take terribly long, I would say maybe an hour?”

John knocked one knuckle against the counter as he nodded. With both hands on the armrests, you remembered the cot in the back.

“Oh, John!”

He paused, ass halfway lowered into the seat.

“I..uh..” you stammer to a stop, unsure of how your words might be received.

“Yes?” He lifts a single brow at you, body not shaking as he waits.

Tucking one arm to your chest and the other to your mouth you speak from behind it.

“I found a cot. I brought it to the shop for you to use if you wanted?”

The words rush out of you, mumbled by your hand, and the speed by which you hurl them.

John stands, moving to stand next to the counter where the floor changes, noting the difference in customer space vs working space.

“What was that dove?”

Tightening your lips before biting the inside of your cheek you force yourself to say your words again. Slower, clearer you speak.

“I have a cot for you. In the back, so that you can sleep.”

His face goes blank as he blinks at you.

He looked a bit like a 404 code in the flesh.

A small smile breaks across his face as color spreads up his cheeks.

“For me?”

“Well,” you tighten both arms around your middle as you reply. “No one else seems to pay me for the privilege of sleeping in my shop, so yes?”

John rubs the back of his neck with one hand.

You awkwardly stare at him. What do you even say now? Do you invite him to lie down? No that sounded weird.

“Do you-”

“Why don-”

You both started and stopped at hearing the other’s voice.

Spinning on your heel you turned towards the storage room, confident John would follow. Popping the door open you can do nothing more than point to the cot, still covered in tape from the store.

John slides by you, chest brushing your arm and shoulder as he does. If you have to fight back the urge to take a bite? Well, he would never need to know.

“I can set it up for you if you don’t mind?” John looks back over his shoulder at you.

Knowing you are beet red you can only nod.

“I bought it for you but didn’t get a chance to,” you gesture at it as if your vague motion will explain all your thoughts.

John’s smile, eyes crinkling and shoulders softening, melted your heart.

“I’ll take care of it and then take a good nap. My men have started to comment that I am nicer to them after I get a nap here.” He knelt, pulling out a pocket knife and slicing open the package.

“Your men?” You lean against the door frame, unabashedly watching. “What is it you do for work John?”

“Special forces, I’m a captain. I lead a group of myself and four other men.”

“Well, that would explain a lot of the smells.”

He looks up at you, brow cocked.

“Smells?”

“Like fire, gunpowder, sweat, sometimes fear.”

“You get a lot of smell knowledge here?”

“I get a lot of everything here,” you shrug, unable to articulate how no matter how clean a piece of cloth some lingering smells clung.

John turns back to his task. You spend far, far too long watching him. The way his shoulders dip and arms change shape as he uses them. When the cot is built and John stands he turns and catches sight of you, you give a panicked smile and flee for the counter where you had left the mask.

Slamming your body into your chair you turned on your ring light, pulled your black thread, and focused diligently on fixing the holes you had been asked to address. John did not reappear for nearly an hour. You had finished the mask sooner than that but had not yet found the fortitude to go and wake him.

The creases on his face matched the lines on the shoulder of his shirt, and the slight drool stain.

“Right on time?”

You smile and nod.

“Well let’s settle up and I will find a reason to be back in a few days.” John returns to the customer side of the counter, sure of himself and you.

“You don’t have to pay me to come nap if that is all you need,” you start.

He cuts you off with a wave of his hand.

“My men are hard on clothes. If I can get you some business I feel less bad about using you for some shut-eye.”

Supposing you had to accept that answer you unlock your tablet and complete the transaction.

Once his card clears you pass over the mask.

“You’re jewelry box should be done by Christmas.”

He drops the statement as if he forgot to bring it up until now.

“Christmas should be fine, I don’t have many plans though I will be out of town the week of Christmas proper. I will be visiting my grandmother.” Paternal grandmother since your mother was not allowed to visit, but no need to mention that.

“We will have to find some time to ensure I can get you the gift then,” he smiled as he said it.

“I told you I would pay for it John,” you chide.

With a shrug, he tucked the mask into his pocket and stepped back from the counter.

“Can’t pay me for a Christmas present dove.”

With that, he waved and pushed through the front door.

“The hell I can’t,” you spoke to the empty shop.

Part 5

Masterlist

[taojjang]

𐙚 riize's favorite thing to do with you

pairing: bf!riize x reader, genre: fluff, warnings: they down bad fr

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♡⸝⸝ times he feels happiest by your side

shotaro . . . shopping with you!

taro truly loves spoiling you— whether with new jewelry or a bunch of kisses, he always has something to give you. he often finds excuses to go spend money with you. for instance, you could mention that you really like chocolate and he'll respond, "let's go for some ice cream!" he just loves giving you everything you want :( and that's why he loves your late-night convenience store runs!

the second you tell shotaro you want a snack, he's already grabbing his car keys and telling you to put on your jacket. when you arrive at the convenience store, taro runs straight towards your favorite snack and tosses two of them into the basket. "is there anything else you're craving, honey?" whatever you look at, he puts it in the basket without even looking at the price. in his mind, the smile that you give him when you're eating snacks together is priceless <3

eunseok . . . lounging with you!

eunseok is a simple man, it really doesn't take much to satisfy him. something about the lazy days he spends with you always makes him feel so comfortable. he loves those saturday nights when he comes home from work and you're welcoming him with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. but he loves sunday mornings even more.

he loves waking up with you resting on his chest, not having to turn off his alarm or push you off to get ready for work. if you hadn't woken up and forced him to freshen up, he'd lie there for hours, falling in and out of sleep with you cuddled against him. after brushing your teeth and eating a quick snack, eunseok would drag you right back to bed so he could lie beside you while you finished your overdue tasks on your laptop. he'd occasionally get up to grab a snack for the both of you, but for the most part, he'd play his silly mobile games while you pat his head with your free hand. simple days like this make him feel so happy to be yours.

sungchan . . . eating with you!

sungchan is always so worried about you. the days when he's too busy at work to come and see you, he's texting you every hour to ask if you've eaten yet. he just wants to know you're taking care of yourself when he isn't there to do it himself :( which is why he's always ordering so much food when he comes to your house.

"thank you, baby... but i don't think i can eat all of this." you mutter looking down at the 6 containers of takeout. "it's fine princess, you can eat the leftovers tomorrow." sungchan melts into a giggly mess once you start eating. he loves how adorable you look when you eat <3 so much to the point where he'd buy you every single one of your cravings just to see those cute chubby cheeks :(

"you're so adorable, princess~ how is it? should i order more?"

wonbin . . . dressing up with you!

whether he's going to a fashion show or the grocery store, wonbin has to look good wherever he goes. it's almost sickening having to wait 40 minutes for him to get all dolled up just to grab toothpaste from the pharmacy. but you've got to admit, it's quite fun helping him pick out his outfits. one thing you should expect from helping him out is having to join him in his fashion frenzy.

wonbin loves matching outfits with you! before you leave the house, he'll go into his closet and find a comfy sweater that matches his outfit. but instead of wearing it, he hands it to you. "baby, try this on." you always love wearing his clothes since they're so stylish and cozy (not to mention they smell like him too). he finds it so adorable when you twirl around in front of the mirror, asking him "is this one okay?"

"you already know what i'm gonna say, baby. you're so beautiful!"

seunghan . . . singing with you!

seunghan is truly a passionate man. even on his days off, you catch him dancing in front of the mirror, working tirelessly to ensure he has the choreo down before he goes to work the next day. but when you catch him singing, it's almost mesmerizing. when you walk by the bathroom and hear him singing in the shower, you can't help but press your ear against the door in hopes of hearing him clearly. his voice is incomparable to anything you've ever heard.

he could say the same about yours. the first time he heard you singing a song he'd been practicing, he stopped dead in his tracks and let nothing take his attention away from you. you never believe him when he tells you you're good at singing (i mean, he's literally THEE hong seunghan), but he won't stop telling you how lovely your voice is. he loves your voice so much that his ideal date is singing his heart out with you in the karaoke room! he loves how adorable you look jumping around and singing your favorite song while he's cheering you on. you could never forget how he looks up at you with so much adoration sparkling in his eyes. he adores you more than anything else in the world.

sohee . . . playing with you!

sometimes you get a bit annoyed by how often sohee plays video games. it's so exhausting watching him spend all of his time at his computer when you just want cuddles :( he typically takes a break after a few rounds to grab a snack, but you're always lying on his bed with those sad eyes and a pout, waiting for any bit of attention from him. "hi pretty girl, you okay?" you shake your head. he stands up to stretch and walks to lie beside you. "let's play together." he can't help but laugh at your sudden mood change when he suggests spending time together.

sohee sits against the headboard and you immediately find a spot to sit between his legs, the back of your head resting on his chest. he hands you a controller and lets you pick a game to play. even if it's a game he doesn't like, he always engages in the gameplay and makes sure you have enough fun to forget how upset you were just a few minutes ago. you always giggle knowing your pout always gets you what you want. you truly are his soft spot <3 the two of you play for hours; screaming and laughing at each other until you grow sleepy. once you tell him you're tired, he'll take the controller from your hand and turn off the tv. he'll pull the blanket over you and hold you closer to his chest.

"let's play again tomorrow, hm?"

anton . . . cuddling with you!

to anton, there's no place that's more comforting than your arms. with every hug, he feels like he's falling deeper and deeper in love with you by the second. he never knew someone could feel so much like home. his hugs are always so passionate; wrapping his arms around your shoulders and hiding his face in your neck, savoring every moment of you. every hug drowns you in such addicting warmth that you can't get enough of him. nothing could ever top this feeling. well, except for cuddles, of course.

after a long day, all you truly need is to be held by your big teddy bear. lying down beside anton, he immediately turns to you and rests his head on your chest. beginning to run your hands through his hair, you tell him how exhausting today was and how badly you missed him. he leaves a soft kiss on your lips before wrapping his arms around you, closing the gap between the two of you.

"you're with me now, love. just focus on me."

[hihomeghere]

Right Person, Wrong Time / John Marston x reader

Summary : You and John have constantly been at each other's throats until you left the gang after he chose Abigail over you. When you return you find him gone, leaving Abigail and Jack. You create a relationship with Abigail and Jack, but what will happen when John returns? Warnings/tags : Hate fucking, unprotected piv (wrap it before you tap it), swearing, slapping, choking, hair pulling, biting breasts, unrequited loveish, John being an awful parent, slight Abigail x John, reader x John, reader becomes a parent figure it Jack, angst, no happy ending Word count : 2.5k

You supposed fate had it out for you. To dangle John in front of you like it did. Two scrappy street kids raised alongside each other. Like two starving dogs fighting for scraps, you were always at each other's throats. Arthur could hardly stand one of you at a time, but the two of you together had him damn near tearing his hair out. 

The old guard had hoped that once the two of you got older, things wouldn’t be so volatile around camp. But the churning hormones inside the two of you only poured gasoline on the fire that was you and John. 

Dutch and Hosea quickly learned that the two of you couldn’t be trusted to work a job together. That job ended in your first wanted poster going up in Armadillo. John tore one down and kept putting it up around camp, much to everyone’s disapproval. 

Hosea said it was because the two of you were too alike. Forced out on your own, fighting to survive in a dog eat dog world. Stuck in this rivalry that you had created. Dutch had seen it before anyone else had, the smoldering fire inside you that yearned for John’s spark. 

But then Abigail came along. You hated her. Hated her pretty eyes, soft lips, more than anything you hated how John couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. She was just a working girl, you had seen hundreds of working girls come and go but she… she stayed. She stayed and for some reason John couldn’t stay away from her. 

Always sitting next to her around the campfire, looking at her with that stupid lovesick look. It made you sick. So instead of facing the fact that stupid John Marston was in love with someone who wasn’t you, you ran. 

You packed in the dead of night, like a coward, and ran off. It was harder on your own and as much as you hated to admit it, you missed the gang. More than anything you missed John. But you were stubborn, you wanted to prove to yourself that you didn’t need them, didn’t need him. 

It was fate when Arthur found you running a con on some rich folk. Asked you to come back, just for ‘one night’. You went back with him, knowing that this ‘one night’ would turn into many nights. Dutch and Hosea welcomed you back with open arms, something you hadn’t been expecting after being gone so long. Although your loyalty had never been with the gang, it was always with John. 

Although John was gone, like two ships passing in the night. Had run off about a week earlier from what Arthur had said. Leaving Abigail and his son. His son. 

A tiny boy with brown hair and eyes, barely a year old. Poor Abigail, the girl was a wreck. Dealing with her son and his piece of shit father. 

You don’t know why you attached yourself to them, stepping in and acting as a second parent to Jack. Perhaps you felt like you owed it to them, that you had harbored so much hate in you over a foolish man. A foolish man that had everything he could want and threw it away. Deep down you knew that it was for a more selfish reason. You felt close to John in some awful way when you were around Abigail and Jack. You saw so much of John in him, in his gummy smile. When he would laugh, deep in his belly. 

The little boy had captured your heart, just like his father. 

You knew that Abigail knew, knew the feelings you harbored for the father of her son. You supposed that everyone knew why you ran off. Ironic that you returned when the prodigal son had left. 

“I don’t hold it against you.” She said one day, breaking the silence between the two of you as you did your chores.

“Pardon?” You asked, looking up at her.

“John.” She said simply, her blunt words made your mouth run dry. “I don’t hold it against you. If that’s why you’re- you’re bein’ so kind. I don’t need charity.” She pursed her lips, hanging up a shirt on the line. 

“It ain’t charity I-“ You worked your jaw as you looked down, “I care for your son. I care for Jack. Hell I- I consider you a friend. Unless I’m oversteppin’?” You raised your eyes to meet her icy gaze.

“I’d like to be your friend.” She said, although her gaze didn’t soften.

And then one day the bastard returned. You didn’t know who was more mad, you or Arthur. He reached him before you did, slamming him up against a nearby tree. 

“You yellow bellied-“

“The hell you doin’!”

“Boys!” Dutch’s voice cut through their growls, striding over to all three of you. Your jaw was clenched so hard your teeth ached as you stared John down. As much as you hated to admit it, part of you was glad to see him. His hair was longer than the last time you had seen him. His dark raven locks down to his shoulders. Your stomach twisted as his eyes landed on you. You turned, stalking away from the men as Dutch began a speech to ‘calm’ the men down. 

Abigail was seething, bouncing Jack in her arms as she paced. 

“Want me to take him so you can kick his ass?” You asked, glaring at him over your shoulder. 

“Please.” She huffed, handing him off as she stormed over to him. A small bit of satisfaction filling you as her open palm connected to his cheek. You turned your gaze back to Jack, reminding your traitorous heart what really mattered. 

You knew it was only a matter of time before John cornered you. The sun had set and you were getting ready for bed when he stopped by your tent.

“You’re back.” His gravely voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“So are you.” You huffed, keeping your back to him as you set your guns down.

“Why’d you come back?” His words sent liquid fire through your veins.

“Why’d you leave?” You hissed, spinning around to face him. He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “How could you?”

“Don’t give me that.” He scoffed, looking away from him.

“Excuse me? You have a family John.”

“And you didn’t?” He growled, his teeth bared like a wild dog. “You just packed up your shit and walked out on us, on all of us.”

“You don’t get to be mad over this.” You seethed, pointing your finger in his face. “We are not the same.”

“Oh sweetheart we’re the same kind of screwed up.” He sneered, holding his arms out. 

“No we ain’t.” You shoved him backwards, “I was here when it mattered. When your son said his first word, when he walked for the first time. I was there.”

“Oh congratulations, parent of the damn year.” 

“You ran cause you got scared, you damn coward.” You hissed, your emotions bubbling to the surface.

“And what’s your excuse hm? We all know why you ran.” His words made your blood run cold.

“You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“I know everything about you.” He said closing the distance between the two of you. “I know you ran cause you couldn’t stand not havin’ me.” You clenched your jaw, swallowing past the lump in your throat.

“You’re a real fucking piece of work John.” He caught your wrist as you turned. 

“Tell me I’m wrong.” He pulled you closer, an iron grip of your wrist. His dark eyes boring into yours. 

“You’re wrong.” You hissed, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Really?” He asked, his voice raising in volume. He surged forward, crashing his lips against yours. It took you a minute to respond, your heart and head at war. Your palms pushed against his chest as he stumbled backwards. His lips parted as he stared down at you. You surged forward, pulling him towards you by his collar. It was a clash of teeth and tongue, a fight for dominance. 

You parted, your lips swollen as you tore at his clothes. He got the memo quickly, undoing his gun belt, letting it fall to the floor with a clang. Halfway undressed he pounced on you like a man possessed. His hands were everywhere and yet your body craved more, more, more. 

Your hands threaded through his hair. Grabbing a chunk near the nape of his neck as you pulled his head back. His eyes caught yours in the low light of the lantern, his teeth glinting as his lips pulled back in a wolfish grin. 

“Your bark is a helluva lot worse than your bite.” He huffed, holding your hips in a near bruising grip. You clenched your jaw, liquid fire rushing through your veins. “Tell me you don’t want this, don’t want me.” He taunted, panting as you tighten your grip on his hair. 

“You’re a piece of shit.” You spat.

“And what does that make you, sweetheart?” He asked, narrowing his eyes. You tugged at the base of his skull, a low groan leaving his lips as he laughed. He walked you backwards, your calves hitting your cot. 

“Fuck you.” You hissed, feeling his hot breath waft across your face.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” His mouth was back on yours, his fingers moved with precision as he unbuttoned your shirt. He roughly grabbed your breast, swallowing the low whine he pulled from you. He pushed you down onto your cot, slotting himself between your legs. He made quick work of undressing you, muttering to himself. “All hot and bothered- you think you’re so damn special don’t you?” He hissed through gritted teeth.

“Like you ain’t much better golden boy.” You growled, tugging at his union suit, hoping he’d get the message. He did, pulling his arms out and kicking the fabric off as you finished undressing. 

You had pictured this exchange happening differently in your head more times than you wanted to admit. In your mind, your first time with John was slow. Each of you would take time to worship each other's bodies. Mapping out each scar and blemish, committing them to memory. Soft kisses trailed along your skin, words of affection passing between your lips. 

As he kicked off his union suit, his cock sprang up against his stomach. The tip red and weeping between his legs. His hand closed around your ankle, yanking you down the cot, closer to him. His hand cupped your mound, his finger trailing down your slit. You hated to give him the satisfaction as he found you slick with desire. He ducked his head, biting at your breast. You gasped as he ran his tongue over the teeth marks before wrapping his lips around your nipple.

“Act like such a damn brat,” He said, pulling off with a loud pop, “Now look at ya, just drippin for me.” Your face burned as he ran his finger through your folds. Your open palm connected with his cheek. His head snapping away from you, your own hand stinging as you pulled back. He let out a low chuckle, hanging his head. His hands wrapped around your thighs, pushing them up against your chest. Folding you in half as he lined himself up with your entrance. He drove into you, knocking the air out of your lungs with a squeak.

“Goddamn you’re tight.” He hissed in pain and pleasure as you raked your nails down his back. He ruts into you like some animal, his lips parted and swollen as he huffed. You bite down on your lip, trying to stifle any traitorous moans. The dark patch of hair at the base of his cock rubbed against your clit. Your whole body felt ablaze as he pounded relentlessly into you. The sound of skin on skin echoing through the small tent. His heavy balls hitting your ass with each thrust. Your cunt ached as he carved out a space for himself inside you, reaching places you didn’t think possible. 

Blood roared in your ears as you’re dragged closer and closer to the edge of pleasure. Your eyes rolling back into your head as your body is propelled up the cot with each thrust. His hand closed around your throat, squeezing slightly and you’re gone.

Wave after wave wash over you as you writhe under him. Mewling as your legs shook on either side of his shoulders, your head felt fuzzy as his hips stuttered. 

“Shit don’t-“ He bit his lip, “I can’t-“ He pulled out of you, flipping you over onto your hands and knees. He slammed back into you, his chest sticking to your back with sweat as he laid over you. His arms on either side of your head as he held himself up. 

“Fuck John!” You cried out, biting down on your lip. Your body was ablaze as his hand pressed your face into the cot. 

“God damn-“ He groaned through gritted teeth, his eyes squeezing shut as his hips stuttered. Pouring himself into you as he collapsed on top of you. 

Both of your breaths filled the air, your chest heaving as he rolled off of you. He left you empty and leaking onto your cot, although that was the least of your worries.

You just fucked John, well technically he fucked you. But Abigail… Abigail and Jack. God if she found out you’d never be able to earn her trust back. John let out a long sigh, running his hand over his face. A smirk tugging on his lips as he looked over at you. 

You felt sick to your stomach as you felt his cum drip out of you. You got up, grabbing his clothes and throwing them at him. He caught them and held them against his chest, his brows furrowing as he looked up at you. 

“The hell are you doing darlin’?” He asked.

“Don’t call me that.” You huffed, stepping into your bloomers. “This- this was a mistake. You know it, I know it, shit you have a family, John. Abigail, Jack-“

“Is that what this is about?” He scoffed, narrowing his eyes as he sat on the edge of the cot. “They’re in the past.”

“No!” You snapped, “They’re right here in this fucking camp! Waiting for you.”

“Who knows if the boy is even mine-“ He started, throwing up his hand.

“Oh don’t pull that horseshit, we all know he’s your son.” You scoffed, buttoning up your shirt. “God I’m a fool.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. Guilt settling over you like a blanket. “Get out.”

“What?” He asked, his eyes finding yours.

“This was a mistake.” You said shaking your head, “You may not have any loyalty but I do. I- This never happened.” His jaw clenched, anger burning in his eyes as he roughly dressed himself. He stopped next to you, staring you down.

“So this is it?” He scoffed, shaking his head as you didn’t respond. Your arms crossed as you hung your head in shame. “Unbelievable.” He muttered as he stormed past you, knocking his shoulder against yours as he left your tent.

You sat down on the edge of your cot, putting your head in your hands. Hating yourself for being so damn weak, hating yourself for enjoying it, hating yourself for your undeniable feelings for him.

What had you done?

[bullet-prooflove]

You're The Sun To Me: Mitch Keller x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @dolphs-darling @watermeezer @queenslandlover-93 @redpool

Companion piece to:

Love Song - Mitch doesn't expect to see you in his bar after all this time.

Clean - Mitch asks you why you're back in town.

Home - Mitch gets an answer to his question.

Sunshine (NSFW) - You've always been the sunshine in Mitch's life.

Georgia Peach (NSFW) - You get a little territorial when one of Mitch's exes comes sniffing around.

Rhinestones (NSFW) - Mitch reminds you of the night you met.

Her Name Was Lola - You meet Mitch's wife.

On the rare freezing days in Tulsa, Mitch struggles. The cold seems to set into his bones and the agony from decades of bull riding seems to flood his entire system. His muscles stiffen and he moves like an old man, every single motion filled with a devastation that makes him hiss through his teeth. It’s times like this that remind him how he ended up hooked on Oxy. Shit like Tylenol doesn’t touch the pain, no matter how much he takes.

He forces himself through the day, every minute ticking by like an hour until you show up fresh off the tour you’ve been undertaking in Oklahoma City. Jelly Roll has been playing a few indie gigs and had invited you to open for him. The two of you had met during a country music showcase back when Mitch was doing time and stayed close friends even after Jason's career blew up.

When you step through the door you take one look at Mitch and you know exactly what’s going on with him, despite how much he tries to hide it. You set up a stool behind the bar, coercing him into it with a fierce look. He knows better than to argue with you when you get a bee in your bonnet, especially when you’re coming off a forty one hour drive.  

You spend most of the evening doing the lion’s share of the work. You let Mitch pour a couple of shots when you leave the bottle by him but everything else is on you. At the end of the night, he watches you lock up before you draw him into the makeshift bed you’ve set up in the back. The ride home is filled potholes and sharp turns, things that will shake up at his bones, cause him even more pain and you know he doesn’t have it in him to face that tonight.

He can’t help but smile when he gets into that room because his baby, she’s done wonders with the air mattress, blankets and hurricane lamps he keeps stored away in there.

“You know Sunny, this shit is kinda romantic like.” He says as you begin to unbutton his shirt. “It’s not candle light and roses but it’s certainly something.”

“Next time.” You promise him, your gaze meeting his as you unfasten his belt and help him out of his jeans. “I promise I’ll romance the fuck out of you.”

He laughs as you help him down into the bed, tucking as many blankets as you can around him against the cold outside. He reaches for you, brushing a stray strand of hair back behind your ear as he looks into your eyes.

“You always take such good care of me.” He whispers, pressing a tender kiss to your mouth.

“I always will.” You murmur before you pull away and begin to undress. He watches appreciatively as you do, the fabric slipping from your skin and landing in a heap at your feet. There isn’t a chance in hell he can get it up right now, not with his pain level but he can still admire the beauty that God bestowed upon him.

“Gonna have to be cuddling tonight darlin.” He tells you as you climb underneath the blankets alongside him. “I don’t have it in me to give you a proper welcome home.”

“Good.” You whisper as you nestle in close, the heat of your body warming his skin. “Because I’m far too exhausted to ride you tonight.”

He chuckles as you bury your face into the curve of his throat, your fingertips tracing over the scars etched into his flesh from all those years of bull riding.

“Sunny…” He drawls as he closes his eyes, trying to focus on anything but the ache that seems to radiate through his entire body. “Will you sing me to sleep darlin? I’ve been missing the sound of your voice.”

You start to hum and he recognises the opening bars from Zach Bryan’s You’re The Sun To Me.

“You’re trying to make me fall in love with you all over again ain’t you sweetheart?” He mumbles as his cheek comes to rest upon the top of your head.

“Oh Mitch.” You whisper, tiling your head up so your lips brush over his grizzled jaw. “There ain’t no trying about it.”

Love Mitch? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[vibratingskull]

Hello, hello. I am obsessed with your stories .

I would like to ask you to write a Thrawn x f!reader . Thrawn is in love with the reader, and she refuses him. but she is actually very much in love with him. She believes she would never come first for him and that even she will be expendable to him should it come to that. Which is why she refused him.

Thank you my dear ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ I am sorry for the delay

Thrawn x F!reader

tags : misunderstanding, heart to heart, love confession, (kinda?)hurt/comfort

Your heart is pounding. 

Peacefully seated at his desk, Grand Admiral Thrawn analyzes your latest work. You worked your ass off on these data, crossing all of those dates, GPS coordinates, vids information, and alien propaganda speeches to FINALLY locate the hideouts of those rebels! But you fucking did it! 

You’re not the Chimaera’s Commander for nothing! 

You were so much lower on your latest ship, underestimated and underappreciated. You made one singular mistake in the entirety of your career! And it earned you a transfer to the Chimaera, under then Vice Admiral Thrawn’s command, where a lot of the outcasts of the Navy ended up. A sign of shame and failure, being put under the only Alien of the Navy was worse than being demoted or laid off for some. 

But very quickly 

The tendance shifted. 

Thrawn has a natural talent : to find and refine others’ strengths, like a jeweler carefully polishes a precious gemstone. People who were judged useless under others’ orders suddenly started to flourish and gave good results, incredibly good results even ! Their enthusiasm and motivation crushed at their former posts reappeared, stronger than ever ! 

Thrawn took the losers he was given, nurtured their strong suits, and turned them into one of the most efficient crews the Empire ever had ! 

Commodore Faro and you were prime examples of Thrawn’s strong management talent and leadership. Diminished on other ships, unstoppable on the Chimaera ! 

And when Thrawn reached the rank of Grand Admiral in the record time of a single decade, all the snake tongues were forced to recognize his undeniable success and tactical genius. As they always should have! 

All those factors now make the Chimaera the most requested ship by ensigns and Navy workers of any field. From soldier to machinist, data scientist to engineer, to officer, all come knocking at Thrawn’s door to be part of the crew that will make History with a big H ! 

And you are one of them. Welcomed and guided by the Man himself you are part of his core team, his strongest supporter and follower. You are part of the Chimaera’s crew as you are part of a family, under Thrawn’s wise guidance. 

And… 

If you are honest with yourself and look at the bottom of your soul, the worryingly strong and fast beating of your heart might not just be because of the stress of having your work reviewed by a superior. 

But because of something else entirely... 

Something taboo, that should not exist between a Grand Admiral and his Commander of any respectable fleet. 

But you just cannot calm down your heart when you cross gaze with his shining rubies, you cannot help your blood rushing to your cheeks, the slight wobbliness of your legs, the air getting stuck in your throat when you have to speak to him. 

‘’Very good, Commander (Y/n). A remarkable job of investigation in a record time !’’ Thrawn finally declares, looking at you with a satisfied little grin, ‘’You can be proud of yourself.’’ 

‘’Thank you Grand Admiral.’’ You slightly bow your head to him with respect, ‘’Some data scientists did a wonderful job gathering all of that information, I would not have done it without their efforts.’’ 

‘’You will need to give me their name, so I can keep a closer tab on them.’’ He slowly nods in approval. 

‘’I will make you a list, Sir.’’ 

‘’Did anyone else caught your eyes ?’’ 

‘’Sir ?’’ You demand, ‘’Is it not Commodore Faro’s prerogative ?’’ 

‘’It is. It is also the prerogative of any of my officers I estimate. I value your opinion and judgment more than some of my fellow Grand Admirals, if you notice someone’s good work getting unappreciated I want you to come to me.’’ 

‘’Sir, I think you have no trouble noticing it yourself.’’ You cannot help but chuckle. 

He keeps looking at you, a tight satisfied grin on his lips, soft and found. His eyes seem to shine brighter. 

‘’What?’’ You ask before his insisting gaze, still shaken by your laugh. 

‘’Nothing. I simply enjoy hearing your laugh. It is such a delectable sound, it alleviates my stress and appeases my mind.’’ He tilts his head, focused on you. 

Your smile falters and the laugh dies down immediately. You close back on yourself, pressing your datapad against your chest. 

You cannot permit yourself such things... 

‘’With your permission, sir, I will take my leave.’’ You say, recovering your detached and professional tone, cutting short the conversation. 

His shoulders ever so lightly lower down and his smile disappears, like he is... Disappointed. But his expression remains unshakable. 

‘’Of course, Commander. You may go, I wish you a peaceful and restful sleep.’’ 

You curtly nod, murmur a ‘you too, Sir’ so low you wonder he even heard it, and exit the large office rapidly. You walk swiftly in the long and bright corridors of the Chimaera, a maze you know by heart. 

A maze you now call home. 

Your datapad pressed against your breast as to hide your sprinting heart from anyone who might cross your path you walk straight and fast, head raised high but gaze low on the floor. You gulp with difficulty trying to order your boiling mind. 

Grand Admiral Thrawn is nothing but professional, courteous, and polite. He never makes any crass comments of any kind or insinuations, the only compliments leaving his lips are praises for a work well done or a cunning attitude. 

That is all! 

Except for you. 

It has been several months now since he started to casually compliment you on... Anything really. He always found a little something to compliment you over every day. 

Always respectful and within the bounds of morality. 

He started as with anyone else, a ‘Good work’ here, a ‘Pertinent observation’ there, a ‘successful mission.’ sprinkled in. 

And one day it was ‘This new hair style compliment your features wonderfully.’ Out of the blue and with no warning. He said it casually, with his usual nonchalance and detachment, and you simply assumed he was in an exceptionally good mood to compliment someone for something so mundane and out of his usual zone of comfort. 

But this is highly unusual behavior for him!  

You never heard him compliment anyone’s hairstyle, choice of blush, or capacity to keep their uniform clean. But he started doing it for you. A little one every day, a constant stream of praise day by day... 

And if you brushed it off the first time, the second was heavily suspicious. 

He may slip off one time. But never two. 

It was intentional on his part! It must have been. 

He also started to take more caff breaks when you took one. He always appears three to five minutes after you, takes a fuming cup of caff, engages in some conversation with you, and gets back to the bridge a maximum of two minutes before you, down to the second.  

Sometimes he does not even take a single sip of his drink, preferring to speak with you about the current campaign, but mostly art, his special interest. If you wished to speak about your interests, he becomes absolutely mute. 

But he listens to you rambling attentively because when you come back to the subject a week or so later, he recalls a myriad of details of different importance with excruciating precision about anything you spoke of. 

If you are already talking to someone else, he does not insert himself in the conversation unless invited, preferring to take a seat at a table to sip his drink in complete silence. 

His gaze fixes his cup or the propaganda posters on the walls but always seems to come back to you, like you were a light in the darkness... You can feel his burning eyes on the back of your neck. But it does not feel like a burnt wound. Instead, it simply feels like... A heat source on your neck, a warm point that gently spreads on your skin... And when you spin your head in his direction to spot him, his eyes are back on his cup. 

But you do feel his warm gaze on you... 

You KNOW it. 

For some reason, he is trying to deepen your relationship. 

And while your heart pumps like a machine at that simple thought, you also know you should stifle that hope in its infancy. 

Thrawn... Is a man married to his job. War is the very purpose of his existence and he excels at it, why would he weigh himself down with a relationship? 

He either wants a short casual fling, which you would never guess was his style, or he wants something deeper... A real relationship with you. 

And those possibilities terrify you. 

When you love, you love generously, pouring your very own blood into the relationship, giving endlessly to please your partner. And it cost you a lot in the past, you were used and cast aside after countless times. So many tears were wasted for partners who only saw you as a commodity. You promised yourself to never fall for someone who does not make you their priority anymore! 

But you fell for Grand Admiral Thrawn, despite your better judgment and best efforts. 

He is a man of integrity, intelligence, charisma, and elegance, you did not feel any malice or will to hurt others in him which is surprisingly uncommon in the Navy hierarchy of the Empire.  

And he is very far from being displeasing to look at! His alien features even reinforce his natural charm, his face is harmonious and delicate with sharp intelligent eyes. 

Really, everything seems to make him a wonderful romantic partner in theory. 

But the theory doesn’t account for the first love of his life: work. 

You will never come before his first love, and as a Grand Admiral maybe you should not, but that stabs your heart.  

Once again you fell for the wrong one. 

If only you were smitten, you could manage. But the fact that he seemed to take an interest in you in return, offers you his gentle words and careful attention complicates absolutely everything! 

You should not fall for that trap again! You do not want to! 

But how to refuse such a man? How to look in his carmine gaze and stand your ground? It is demanding a will you simply do not possess, so now you run away from any new attempt from him. You respond coldly and sternly at any non-work related praises and leave the room swiftly. 

He never tries to hold you back, accepting your choice. 

That does not make it any easier for you. If you falter ONCE and give him hope that it is possible, you may fall again and hurt yourself, deeper this time. 

You survived your exes but could you survive Grand Admiral Thrawn’s love?  

Nothing is less certain. 

So you run away like a coward, feeling his fond gaze on your form. 

Never again... 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Thrawn sighs internally, his eyes fixed on the door you just exited through like a persistent image of you would appear to him if he focused on it. 

Again, you fled. 

He is used to it by now. He compliments you on anything not work-related and you shut off completely. 

What did he expect exactly anyway? Love stories between superiors and subalterns in a fleet are such a cliche of movies without any grounds in reality. He heard of some in the Ascendancy and the Empire and none ended well. 

But for some months he had that fleeting hope, that childish wish that something was possible between you two. 

He was the first surprised to realize he had feelings for you. He welcomed you under his commands as every other officer sent to him and you worked together for some time to find your strengths and give you the appropriate post for your skills. 

He was proud to see you grow and mature, witnessing your skills sharpening day by day until you wield them like a deadly blade with the utmost precision. Your true talents were revealed and your name started to be passed around and other ship captains started to court you for a transfer. 

It happens a lot. A lot of officers he trained were transferred to other fleets and he only heard good about them since then, even Commodore Faro was heavily requested by others for her next promotion, and while he would only feel pride and accomplishment to let her go lead her own forces as she deserves to, he only felt a deep and insidious cold course his flesh when your name appeared in the requests.  

At first, he rationalized it. He concluded that it was too soon for you to leave his tutelage yet, he could still teach you more before seeing you fly away. But the more transfer requests he received, the colder he felt, and the more uneasy he was. 

It was like... lacking air. Like he tried to breathe desperately but his throat was so contracted no air could reach his lungs. But those uncomfortable sensations melted in your presence. Next to you, everything felt right and natural once again, like it was meant to be.  

Slowly your grip on his being started to tighten, like a frog boiling in a pot. 

He never felt like that and it was starting to worry him. He could not let a single person have so much power over him, it would be too dangerous for his ultimate goal, but each time you appeared in his field of vision, all his worries vanished and a warm sensation spread in his chest, his heart felt wrapped in silk and everything was good again. 

And then 

The first wet dream came. 

He had some in his early teenage years when hormones did their work as for everyone else. But he always only saw a faceless, nameless figure in his arms at night. And then they just disappeared altogether, promptly sorted and locked in his well-organized mind and no further dream came to disturb his sleep. 

But that morning he was lying in bed, completely dumbfounded. His eyes wide open, fixed on the ceiling he tried to understand what that dream meant. For the very first time, he saw a face. 

Your face. 

So clearly. 

And what a dream it was... 

He observed his trembling hands for a moment, trying to make sense of all of that. Did his control over his flesh and body start to loosen after all this time? 

Was he softening up? 

He greeted his teeth and went on with his day. At that moment, he convinced himself it was lust. 

Just lust. 

Simple in theory but completely new to him, nobody ever disturbed his flesh like that before and it was quite annoying in his opinion. Obviously, it was only his problem, he could not reasonably hold you responsible for the weakness of his mind and body. He must deal with it alone and not let it disturb his focus! 

But he only had to hear your voice... 

Hear the melodic notes of your laugh... 

Admire the light in your human eyes... 

To know that he was in much more trouble than he first thought. 

It was not lust. 

It was love. 

A first for him once again, and at that point he was convinced it would never happen! Not that he would mind, honestly. Heart matters seem more troublesome than anything else... 

But you assuredly walked into his life and as assuredly took his heart from his chest to keep it with you like a lovely thief, you fondly kissing it every day with your perfect lips, making it beat faster, to the point he felt it could implode at any moment. 

That day he complimented you on your new hairstyle. Out of nowhere. He greeted you, let you know how lovely you were, and walked away without any other word.  

Why did he do that? Beats him.  

He saw you and felt the irrepressible desire to compliment you,  but the usual work praises did not feel enough to calm down the raging storm rising in his chest at that moment. 

And it all derailed from here. 

He kept the compliments coming and welcomed your disincarnated embrace in his dreams at night, craving to feel your real arms wrapping around him to hug him. 

He felt the need to follow you when you took your breaks as any minute away from you felt like death. He instigated casual conversations with you, trying to get you to open up to him. But you kept it so clean and professional; Would it be anyone else he would be thankful for that but he wants you to reveal your heart to him. 

He would take anything! Just learning your favorite color would satisfy his cravings for a month. 

You slowly relaxed around him, accepting to speak a bit about yourself, as much as it was morally acceptable for a Commander to say to her Grand Admiral. He noted every minute detail you let escape in his mind with meticulousness, creating a map of you in his head. 

He let you speak, not daring to interrupt you. He could listen to you describing paint dry. 

Of course, he knew how to stop. If you were talking to a colleague he respected your privacy, if he felt you uncomfortable at any moment he would take his leave. 

And for a time he fantasized about waking next to you in the same bed, rings shining at your fingers. And it was sweet and soft... 

But you are not receptive.  

So he buried that dream and slowly prepared to walk away from you. Each time he compliments you your face hardens and your tone gets colder and aloof. 

But for a split second... 

You bite your lips and he witnesses your heart accelerating in his infrared vision. 

And you cannot take that away from him. No matter how harshly you cut the conversation short. Those little compliments are his little pleasures, his only fancy. The only thing he allows himself to savor in secret. 

His eyes fall again on the datapad in his hand. With a gesture of the finger, he swipes the file to let appear the latest captain’s request to transfer you to their ship. 

Soon he will say goodbye to you, but at least he should make sure you get the best post possible... 

------------------------------------------------------ 

“Oh Maker...” Karyn makes her spine pop with a sigh of relief, “Today was long!” 

“Indeed.” You chuckle, “It was pretty dry and boring!” 

You both head to the bar of the officer mess hall. 

“Two beers!” Karyn orders, “I am done with work for the day! I need to relax.” 

Your shift finished 10 minutes ago, you are officially free for the rest of the day, and a fresh beer seems delectable right now! You sit next to your friend, clink your glasses, and take a large gulp with delight. 

“That’s the stuff!” You gasped. 

“True! I need to get drunk tonight or I will go crazy!” Karyn declares slamming her glass down the bar. 

You look at her with silent questions in your eyes, inviting her to speak more. She snarls, licking her white teeth. 

“I feel like the Grand Admiral is trying to slow me down.”  

“What?” You ask incredulously. 

“He interfered so I could not become Commander of Task Force 231.” She reveals, her head sitting in her hand, annoyed. 

You freeze, contemplating what she just said to you. Would Grand Admiral Thrawn truly do that? Voluntarily sabotaging his own Commodore’s career? 

No. 

You cannot believe that! 

“I am sure he had a reason. He is a fair man, you deserve to lead your own troops, maybe he has a bigger plan for you.” 

She turns her head towards you, gauging you up and down before sneering shortly. 

“I forgot who I was talking to.” 

You nudge her playfully, earning another snigger. 

“You know I am objective. Even about him!” You counter. 

“Mmmmh. Maybe you are, maybe not.” She taunts, taking another sip, “All right! I think it is time for some women talks. How things are going with your Chiss?” 

“He isn’t my Chiss, Karyn.” You remind her, “We are not together.” 

“Which is highly surprising in my opinion with how interested he is.” 

Your grip tightens around your glass, your eyes hypnotized by the ale in front of you. 

“He is not interested.” You try to assert. 

“Arh, do not use that charade with me, (Y/n)! We are both past it, he devours you with his eyes and tried an infinite amount of time to speak with you. He never showed such interest in anyone since I work under him!” 

“He is just trying to be friendly.” You recoil more on your seat. 

“Maker fricking... (Y/n)!” She starts losing patience “We both know that is bullshit. I am tired of seeing your beaten puppy look every day, talk to him!” 

“... And say what? Explain to me what I am supposed to say, ‘Sorry, I am in love with you but you’ll probably relegate me to the bottom of your priority list, so no chance?’” 

“Why do you assume he would relegate you to the bottom of his priority list?” 

You turn to her with a raised eyebrow and a tired smile. 

“Because he is a Grand Admiral and married to his job? Because if I did come before his duties that would put us all in danger and jeopardize his entire career? Because it is simply impossible? Because he will not risk his goal for a single relationship?” 

Usually, you love goal-oriented partners, but you just wish they would make some place for you in their lives and not just see you as an appliance to take advantage of. You want them to be your supporter as you are theirs, but you have been let down so many times... 

“(Y/n)...” 

You sigh. 

“It is so hard, you know? To see him every day, to feel his grip around my heart compressing it until no blood is left. I feel like I am drowning in love and despair, I feel his gaze on my skin and I go weak. He plagues my dreams every night and I wake up cold and arms empty.” 

“(Y/n)?” Karyn whispers, “Maybe you should-” 

“It just hurts so much. To have him so close, to see Thrawn every day, excelling in his career and craving he would give me the same attention... Some nights I cry in my bed because I feel so empty.”  

“Hum, (Y/n)...?” Karyn slightly stiffens. 

“But what can I do?” You put your head in your hands with a long sigh “I promised myself not to fall again and I tripped over my feet when I met him. He is the textbook definition of whom I should avoid at all costs but I fell face first in the permabeton. At that point it’s a pattern, I am searching to get hurt. I am weak... I am pathetic but I love him!” You feel sobs rising in your throat and your eyes start to get wet, “Why is it so hard? Why can’t I forget these sentiments with a snap of fingers? Why do I have to live with this? Why-” 

“(Y/n)!” Karyn shushes you with a hard whisper, gripping your shoulder to shake you. 

You turn your head to her and she designates something on the other side discreetly. You turn your head again and almost fall from your stool. 

Right there, at the other side of the bar, a fuming cup of caff in his hand, Grand Admiral Thrawn sits, perfectly calm and composed. 

But more importantly, at eavesdropping distance. 

You immediately focus back on your ale, head full and spinning. 

He heard you! 

You know he did, he always hears everything in a room! 

You are so done for! You are royally fucked! You are so... 

“Maybe he did not hear, maybe he-” Karyn doesn’t have the time to finish her sentence, you get down your stool and leave the mess hall, ditching them both without a single word. 

You need to disappear! And quickly! 

------------------------------------------------- 

Thrawn lifts his cup to his lips elegantly, peacefully sipping the scorching hot caff. 

But inside he is anything but peaceful. 

“I am sorry, sir.” Karyn Faro finally says, tensing up before her full glass. 

“What for?” Thrawn asks, putting his down delicately, eyes fixed on his cup. 

She purses her lips, clearly embarrassed and uneasy. 

“This was not planned.” She explains. 

“I know.” He simply responds, “You are not one to expose other’s affairs.” He reassures her. 

He contemplates his reflection in the dark beverage, the steam lazily rising towards the ceiling while his stomach drops low. 

Is it how you truly see him? How you perceive his personhood? Is it his true value in your heart? 

He did not intend to listen to you! He just wanted to sit in your vicinity while drinking his caff and then anonymously leave without you noticing he was even there, leaving you two speaking peacefully. He did not intend to pry in your private conversation so impolitely! 

But when he understood you were talking about him he could not help but perk his ear. 

He almost froze hearing you professing your love for him and for a split second his soul sang. 

Only for the high to crash down spectacularly with your next words. 

So this is it, then? Your choice is made and your opinion is decided. This relationship will not be? 

You will not give him even a single chance to prove his worth? 

And he will let you go without trying to correct you? 

And everything will be over without even starting. 

You will now avoid him until he accepts a transfer request and he will never see you ever again, only hearing rumors of you thriving away from him, leaving him alone and cold to face his destiny and fate? 

Without your support? 

Without the music of your voice to help him carry through? 

Without the reflection of light in your gorgeous eyes to appease his worries? 

Without the warmth of your reassuring presence at his side? 

... 

No. 

He slams his cup down and stands on his feet. 

“Sir?” Commodore Faro asks as he walks away, decided. 

He can’t. 

This is beyond him. 

This is the first time he is in love, he simply cannot let you go without at least trying to plead his case! 

This would kill him. 

He knew it was dangerous. Deep down he knew that keeping you at his side was not the tactical-sounding choice. He prophetized before that keeping you around would give you too much power over him, but he would lie if he did not admit that he hoped it would happen deep down his soul. That your grip on his heart was as strangling as it was soothing, that a brush of your hand could command his mood. 

Your power over him was nothing about hierarchy, was not wicked or dangerous like those he experienced before in the Ascendancy and the Empire. It was comforting, soothing, soft but strong. 

The kind of power he would submit to with glee because he knew no harm could ever come of it. Because that power was meant to bring you together... 

He just cannot! 

He walks deadly focused ahead, with long strides in the corridors of the Chimaera. His shift resumes in less than 5 minutes but this is the least of his worries right now! 

For the very first time in his life, work will wait. He has to clear the air with you first! 

It doesn’t take too much time for him to find you. He is quicker than you and he would not let you escape like that! 

You are walking rapidly toward your cabin to lock yourself up most probably. Seeing your back walking away from him like that infuriates him somehow, he is offended! 

“Commander (Y/n) (F/n), stop!” He exclaims with an authoritative voice. 

You shudder, but instead of obeying you pick up the pace. 

You...! 

“Commander! I order you to stop right now!” He orders louder, accelerating behind you. 

You take four more steps before giving up and stop. You remain still, back turned to him, awaiting his next commands. 

He approaches you, already regretting his order. He closes the distance between you and places his hand on your shoulder. 

You shudder at the contact and he retracts it immediately. 

“Commander (F/n)...(Y/n), I am sorry.” He finally announces after several seconds of silence and stillness, “I would like to discuss some of your words earlier.” 

“Stop.” you finally speak. 

Thrawn almost gulp at your tone 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“I said stop.” You repeat, “I do not have to hear that.” 

Thrawn squints. This is the very first time you cut him like that. This is the first time a subordinate ever cut him... 

“I can take an earful if I make a professional mistake. But that... You do not have any right to impose that on me.” You explain. 

“Turn around and face me.” He orders softly. 

Your hands roll into fists but you slowly turn toward him. You take care not to look into his eyes, preferring to focus on his Grand Admiral badge. Your lips are pressed in a thin line, displeasure clearly apparent on your face. 

Thrawn refrains from cupping your cheeks in his hands to hold you lovingly. Instead, he claps them behind his back, preparing himself for the battle ahead. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------- 

“I simply wish to talk.” He reiterates, “This is not an unreasonable demand.” 

Your nostril flares but you add nothing. 

“(Y/n), is what you said true?” He demands sternly. 

So he did hear you, as you feared.  

“Sir, this is highly unprofessional.” 

“I am aware, but I feel like we need to have this discussion.” 

“No, we do not. If you insist I will file a report for sexual harassment.” You bite back, acidic. 

You need to cut that conversation short. You need to escape. 

“With what proofs?” Thrawn tilts his head. 

The tone is not mocking or threatening, it is calm, assured, and simply factual. You both know you have nothing against him, he never tried anything against your consent and always remained within the bounds of morality. 

“We both know you will do none of that, (Y/n). You are too good to make false accusations on such a grave matter.” 

You greet your teeth as you raise your frowning gaze to meet his. 

“Am I?” 

His stern and cold expression relaxes to let appear a tight, fond smile as the glow of his eyes seems to brighten. 

“Of course. Your ethics are too strong to slander an innocent man and tarnish victims’ testimony of such a heinous crime.” 

You snarl, flashing your teeth to him. 

But you have no rebuttal. He is right. You would not do such a thing to victims who already have difficulties to have their voices heard. 

“I simply wish to clear the air and tell you my truth.” He takes another step toward you, “This is all I am asking for.” 

The smile is gone but quiet hope burns in his red eyes. 

You gulp. You told your sentiments to Karyn, but revealing them to his face, admitting them to his eyes... That would kill you on the spot! 

“I wish to hear it from you. Tell me the truth, please.” He insists with a softer tone 

Almost... begging. 

Your lungs tighten in your ribcage, preventing you from breathing correctly while your throat dries up. You open your mouth be no sound escapes you. 

“Take your time.” Thrawn invites, his eyes shining so bright you cannot see any pupils anymore. 

“What for?!” You spit annoyed, “What would ever come of that discussion anyway?! Our expectations do not coincide!” 

Thrawn seems to tense up ever so slightly at your words, like he was hurt. 

But that would mean you have the means to reach and hurt him, and you seriously doubt you do. Either way, he needs to hear it, you cannot just brush past all that like the world is a wonderful peaceful place. You both have jobs and a relationship would just complicate everything! 

“You do no-” Thrawn stops immediately, looking behind you suddenly, “Someone is coming.” 

You turn your head full of hope. Finally, your ticket to exit that predicament! 

But before you can see anyone or anything you feel a large hand grabbing your arm and pulling you. You yelp in surprise when Thrawn pulls you inside a cramped and dark room and the door slams shut behind you. 

You pull yourself together and realize you are inside a closet. A very small closet. So small Thrawn needs to press you against himself for it to hold you both inside. You gasp, your cheek pressed against his large muscular chest, his long arms wrapped around your shoulders. 

“Sir!” You whisper indignantly, “This is-” 

“Silence.” He shushes you, “They are approaching...” 

You huff but remain silent. After some seconds you can hear a group of people discussing and approaching the door. You tense up, praying no one will open it and bust you in Thrawn’s arms... 

“Relax.” He whispers with his rich deep voice, a hand coming to caress your hair to soothe you like you were a cat or something. 

“This was unnecessary, Sir!” You complain with a low voice. 

“You would have preferred we continue this private conversation with them around?” He responds deadpan. 

You growl, putting your hands on his pecs to put some distance between you, but his grip is firm around you and the closet is really confined. You abandon that idea and give up, awaiting for the group to walk away, and then you’ll rush out and sprint away from the Chiss. 

You try to calm down your beating heart, feeling Grand Admiral Thrawn’s high body temperature through his uniform, your cheek getting pleasantly warm at his contact. 

Is that... Is that his heart that you feel beating against your cheek? 

You refrain from sniggering. Of course, this is his heart, but it amuses you to realize that he does have one... He who is always so stern and cold, detached and unbothered does have a heart after all! 

You close your eyes, silently focusing on the steady drum in his chest. If they open the closet door and bust you, you cannot do anything to stop it now, no use in stressing yourself out or causing trouble in the confined space. 

Did Thrawn feel you relaxing in his embrace? A soft and deep rumble starts in his chest and throat, like a...  

“Chiss can purr?” You murmur flabergasted. 

“Indeed.” He reveals, “Pardon me, I have some difficulties keeping it at bay with you in my arms.” 

You add nothing, too shocked by this revelation. 

“It isn’t... unpleasant.” You finally admit, a bit reluctantly. 

The purr deepens at your praise and he lays his chin on the top of your head. For some second you wonder if he is about to kiss your head, but he remains like that, continuing to caress your hair, unbothered. 

“Why don’t you want to tell me the truth?” He finally asks after a minute of silence, listening to the group that seems to have stopped just before your hiding spot. 

“There is nothing to say.” 

“You revealed your sentiment to Commodore Karyn. Why revealing them to me is impossible for you?” 

You sigh longly, eyes lost in the darkness of the broom closet, trying to formulate a coherent sentence with all those sentiments and emotions raging inside of you. 

“I have been hurt in the past.” You just say. 

“And you are afraid I will hurt you the same?” Thrawn whispers with his rich voice. 

“I am not ‘afraid’ you will, I know you will.” 

“How can you be so sure?” 

“They did it out of commodity and maybe malice, you would do it out of necessity.” 

“I cannot imagine a situation where I would hurt you, even out of necessity.” He negociates. 

“No, it’s just...” You sigh, taking a deep breath, “I have been used before and now I want someone who would make me their priority, not just an afterthought!” 

His grip tightens ever so slightly around your shoulders and his purr stops, signifying that he is closely listening to our worries. 

“I do not plan to make you an afterthought in any capacity. If we start a relationship I will make sure to take care of you to the best of my capacities.” 

“You are a Grand Admiral, your agenda is full to the brim, and your days are packed. What kind of attention can you still spare at the end of a shift? You will drop like a fly, Sir.” 

His hand caressing your hair stops and sneaks under your chin to make you tilt your head to face him. You press your lips in a thin line as he details your face with his inquisitive gaze, unraveling your soul with his burning orbs, unclothing your heart to reveal every febrile hope and fear. 

"How can you be so sure of those claims?” He simply asks, so close you can feel his breath on your lips. 

“It is simple logic, Sir. You will never put me before your job, and you should not do it. But I need someone ready to put me first for once... Just once.” 

He releases your chin to cup your cheek with his large palm, his thumb caressing your thin skin tenderly. 

“(Y/n), I do not know what the future has in store for us, but I know I will forever regret it if I do not try with you.” He whispers, “You are right, I cannot put you before my work. But that does not mean that you should come after it. I can manage two important matters at the same time, I can take care of you while leading us to victory.” 

“A lot of exes made the same promise and they left me in the dirt when they got bored.” You simply assess, feeling tired of that charade. 

How many times did you dance that choreography already? Too many. 

“(Y/n), do you truly think I would do that? That I would waste both of our time for mindless fun and abandon you after? If I propose to you it is because I am confident in my capacity to give you everything you need. Look into my eyes and tell me: Is this how you think I am?” 

You look into his sihny eyes and sigh. 

“No... I do not think you would do that...” You concede, “You are not malicious.” 

“Then why not give us a chance?” He presses his forehead against yours, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. 

“Because... I could not survive you...” Your throat tightens as you speak. 

“What do you mean?” He demands with a soothing tone. 

“I may have been able to piece myself back together after them... But you, Sir, you would kill me. You would be my death.” You admit, lowering your tone. 

He tilts your head and reverently kisses your forehead in the secret darkness of the closet. 

“Then let me be your life. Every day I will be the force propelling you forward if you accept to intertwine your fate with mine... If you allow me to take your hand I will devote myself to you. You deserve to be loved and cared for, (Y/n) and it would be my privilege to make it my duty.” 

You sigh, tired, but lean on the warmth of his palm. 

“Promise me to think about it, (Y/n).” 

You hesitate, remembering all the tears and sleepless nights. 

But those eyes... So assured and confident, determined and reassuring... 

“... All right.” 

He brushes his nose with yours, his purr resuming. 

“I love you, (Y/n). You do not need to respond yet, just know that I adore you.” 

In the secrecy of that tight closet, you press yourself against Grand Admiral Thrawn, selfishly reveling in the love and warmth that you refuse to give back for now.  

“I do not promise anything.” You temper. 

“I know. But the fact that you agreed to consider it is enough for me. I will patiently wait for you and your response. And whatever your response may be, I will not stop loving you, even from afar.” 

You hesitate but finally wrap your arms around his chest, and think you felt his heart jolt at that, but you cannot be sure. What you can be sure, however, is the resuming of the purring. 

You do not know what the future holds for you, but right now, his embrace is the only place you want to be in.  

Even if it is selfish. 

Even if it may be the only one time you ever feel it around you. 

But maybe... 

Not. 

“If tie your fate to mine, either in love or friendship, I will devote myself to you. I promise you in this instant.” 

And he reverently kisses your forehead as to seal his words. 

@bluechiss @justanothersadperson93 @thrawnspetgoose @Thrawnalani @twilekchiss @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @obbicrystaleo @elise2174 @davesrightshoe @Holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni 

[lovelaetter]

hello! any impure thoughts about chaery recently?😋😋 welcome back~

STEPCEST, MILDLY DUBCON

oh god, this is not exactly new but there isn’t a moment in my life where stepsis!chaery isn’t in my mind. if you aren’t new here you already know the lore but for those who don’t, basically, chaery and her toxic, mean stepsister!reader who lives away bc of uni but comes home every few weeks and fucks of her and it’s definitely not sane nor 100% consensual.

can’t take my mind away from the thought of chaery taking one weekend or so to visit you on campus, it’s on another city with lots of things for her to see and you always said she can come visit you, so why not? and obviously your parents are okay with it because she will be with you, you will make sure she’s safe. showing her around, introducing her to your friends as your little sister and yet not shying away from the pda, arms around her, so many kisses, she doesn’t even know why she’s more weirded out— your friends not giving a shit about it or you being so nice, you’re usually so mean to her.

saying you’re going to a party one night and her being so against it at first. she was never that much into parties and she doesn’t know anyone! poor girl regretting her words the instant they leave her mouth as she sees your face contort into this scowl, asking “yes, chaeryeong, but you know me, that should be enough for you, shouldn’t it?” and there’s the you she’s used to. ends up dressing up for it, puts into a lot of effort to make the best as she can with what she brought so you forget what she said and it works because everything flies out the window the moment you see her finishing her makeup in her little skirt and top. smiles and goes to ask you if she looks pretty but can’t because you’re already on her, hands sliding underneath her skirt to grab her ass, no shame at all, rubbing her from behind and chuckling at the way she curls up, tries to move away, the whiny “noo, you’re ruining everything”. her face burning red watching you pull her underwear all the way down her legs, shaking her head so hard as you motion for her to step out of it but ends up doing it anyway, the slap that lands on her exposed thigh is too harsh for her to even consider going against you one more time.

like you said, there’s no need for her to know someone else besides you, so she does nothing but very small talk with a few friends of yours. the whole time perched on your lap, legs crossed uncomfortably, paranoid, her skirt is so short, if someone looks the wrong way…! drinks from your cup, sip by sip, and by the time she is relaxed in your arms and feeling a bit better, you ruin her peace again, a hand creeping up her thigh while the other keeps her close, no barriers to keep your fingertips away from her slit. tries so hard to not get anyone’s attention and to get your hand away from her and fails miserably to even faze you, all you do is pull her for a kiss and force her legs slightly open. poor baby is terrified, your friends all around, everyone, they would see, they would know, and you couldn’t care less!!!

but the thing is: the moment your fingers find her pussy she couldn’t care either.

panting, the warmth of her cheeks radiating against you while you whisper for her “look around, chaery, they’re all drunk, no one really cares, they won’t remember anything tomorrow” and “no one knows you, you stupid baby, no one is gonna tell mommy and daddy about her sweet daughter being a slut at a party” while your fingers are where they belong— inside her— and your thumb tortures her little clit in the way just you know but never enough to make her cum, leaving her almost bouncing on your lap looking for more. all she wants is to go back to your dorm and spread her holes the way you taught her you like and suddenly you decide it’s a good time for more drinking while she leaks on your leg.

[fdelopera]

Welcome to the 28th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper 115 yeas ago.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 11, “L’enveloppe magique” (“The Magic Envelope”).

This section was first printed on Thursday, 4 November, 1909.

Gaston Leroux cut “The Magic Envelope” from his novel when he prepared the First Edition for publication.

In January of 2014, I published my translation of this chapter. Mine was the first English translation of this chapter to be published.

You can read my translation of “The Magic Envelope” on my blog here.

The text of this section starts at “All the same, Moncharmin was still looking at Richard in a way that the latter did not like at all,” and goes to “'Not on your life!’ cried Gabriel.”

TRANSLATION:

All the same, Moncharmin was still looking at Richard in a way that the latter did not like at all. It was easy to see that Moncharmin was suspicious of Richard, or at least did not trust him. Richard was infuriated.

Moncharmin explained himself.

“My dear fellow, who was it that spoke inside the box, if it wasn’t you?”

Richard raised his fist in rage but stopped mid-gesture. At the moment when he was going to slam his fist down on the desktop, he heard three sharp little knocks coming from inside the desk; his hand remained suspended in the air. The two Managers looked at each other.

“Did you hear that?” asked Richard in an uncertain voice.

“Yes!” said Moncharmin, who had become slightly pale…

They heard it again… They thought about the three sharp little knocks of which Mother Giry had told them.

Indeed, this is what they had clearly heard… Distinctly heard … from inside the desk … for there was no one under the desk…

But there was something on top!… A large envelope on which someone had inscribed an address in red ink. And it seemed to them that the three sharp little knocks had been rapped out for the express purpose of drawing their attention to that envelope.

Richard, who, however much he claimed to the contrary, was not completely devoid of superstition, cautiously reached out a hand towards the envelope, as if he feared that his touch might suddenly set it on fire.

Finally, he picked it up without further incident. It felt light in his hands, which were quick to open it after he and Moncharmin — who was leaning over his shoulder — read the address:

“For MM. the Managers of the Opera.”

“My dear friends,” said the letter, “it was I who spoke inside the box. I was there. If you did not see me, it is because I am slightly mistrustful of the police, who are always quick to make mistakes; although I had made all the necessary arrangements, as you can now deduce, so that if you had entertained the notion of informing them, they would have arrested both of you first, on your own instructions: that, you will admit, would have been quite entertaining… Let this prospect, my dear friends, be a lesson that you always bear in mind in the unlikely case that you should consider involving an outside force in our business.

“Here is how you shall handle the 20,000 francs.

“You shall slip twenty notes of one thousand francs each into an envelope that you shall find here enclosed. You shall seal this envelope and deliver it to Mme Giry one half hour before the next performance; she will do what is necessary. Cordially yours. P. of the O.”

Inside the envelope they had just opened, they indeed found another envelope that was exactly the same, folded in half, which bore the inscription in red ink: “For Monsieur P. of the O. Private.”

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

The next evening, one half hour before the curtain rose, an inspector came to see Mme Giry, who was already at her box attendant’s post, and requested that she report immediately to the office of M. Firmin Richard.

The good woman did not seem at all surprised by this message and momentarily left her duties, which consisted of awaiting the arrival of the first operagoers. She quickly went down to the season subscribers’ entrance, crossed the stage, and climbed the staircase. There she encountered her daughter, Meg, on a landing, who was in the midst of playing a prank on a fireman. Mme Giry gave her a slap on each cheek, and then went to knock on the Manager’s door.

“Enter!”

She did not seem to notice that the Managers were staring at her with an uncustomary urgency. She took an envelope, rather heavily laden, that they held out to her. She read the address, and since she was carrying the basket from which she rarely parted, she placed the envelope inside.

“No doubt you know what this means?” asked Moncharmin.

“Of course, Monsieur Manager! It’s not magic! It’s a letter for the Phantom.”

“And you are going to deliver it to him yourself?”

“So it seems. What would you have me do with it?”

“You are going to deliver it to him by hand?”

“Monsieur, I’ve never seen the Phantom’s hands, and I couldn’t tell you whether he has any…”

“But how do you do it?”

“I put it by his seat; it’s as simple as that!… And apparently, he comes to get the envelope. That has to be the way it happens…”

“Has it been long that you have served as his letter-box?”

“The first time that it happened was during the time of Debienne and Poligny, a few days before their departure… M. Poligny himself handed me a letter, but much thinner than this … and I did more or less what I am going to do with this one… Goodbye, Monsieur! With all due respect, I’m on my way… The patrons ought to be arriving, and everyone must earn a living, don’t you agree?”

Richard and Moncharmin did not stop her from leaving. They had not taken their eyes off of Mother Giry or her basket. No sooner had she closed the door than she was followed by Mercier, the Administrator. The box attendant’s every movement was carefully monitored. Her comportment was quite natural and she did not so much as touch her basket until she arrived at Box 5. There she calmly opened her basket and withdrew the precious letter. She left the basket on a stool and entered the box with the letter, which she placed on the shelf by the armrest.

Meanwhile, Mercier in turn took the liberty of opening the basket and found that it contained nothing more than a handkerchief of the finest lace monogrammed with the interwoven letters, “P.O.,”[4] a bunch of keys, a box of matches, twelve sous, and an old edition of the Petit Journal, folded to the section of the serialized novel: The Vampire’s Daughter.[5]

As for Moncharmin and Richard, they both armed themselves with opera glasses and stationed themselves in separate boxes in the upper tier so that they could not be seen, although the letter did not for an instant leave their dual patrolling gaze. In this way, they spent the duration of the performance, both the acts and the entr’actes.

They did not see anything occur inside the box, and yet still they watched the envelope on the little shelf by the armrest. They made arrangements so that after the performance was over, they would convene together with Mercier in Box 5, without interrupting their surveillance on the envelope for even a moment.

Then the two Managers, standing before Mercier, who understood nothing of the events that were transpiring, for he had followed his instructions without being briefed on the details of the affair, opened the envelope with a smile. They believed that the Phantom, who was surely possessed of a practical mind, must have sensed himself being watched and had not dared to touch the envelope. Indeed, they found the 20,000 francs still inside. And so, with a slightly smug air, they returned to their management.

But as they arrived in Richard’s office, they discovered that, sitting there on the desk, in the same location as before, was an identical envelope, which contained a “brief note” thusly worded:

“Candles and chandeliers![6] Brevity is the soul of wit; the Bank of Saint Farce[7] is not legal tender in my Empire. In the future, try to be a bit more serious, or I shall wax wroth once again. Candles and chandeliers!

“Your servant,

“P. of the O.”

It was no longer a matter of “friendly regards.” Needless to say, the Phantom was furious. But how had he known that in place of real banknotes, the Managers had slipped fake notes into the envelope, since it had remained unopened and had not been touched? And as for this latest threat — candles and chandeliers! — how had it arrived in Richard’s office, since after the last letter, Richard, recalling a bit late the recommendation given to them by the departing Managers, had installed safety locks on the doors of his office to which he alone had the keys?

I regret that I must here use an expression which is in no way recommended by the dictionary of the Academy, but no other word would be able to convey with detail and yet with restraint the state of mind of one of the Managers: Firmin Richard was fuming! No exclamations, no curses, no angry gestures. But in his breathless silence, he seemed to radiate fury.

And what infuriated him more than anything, even more perhaps than the absurd business of P. of the O., was Moncharmin’s eye, that eye which regarded him, Richard, with clear malicious irony.

For that ironic look could only come from two things: either Moncharmin imagined that P. of the O. was “making sport” of Richard in particular, or Moncharmin had begun once again to suspect his colleague! And this latter thought crowned Richard’s misery. Oh, to be the pawn, and yet to be thought the mastermind!

Suddenly, he cried: “Mercier! Go get me Gabriel!”

Gabriel, the chorus master, was Richard’s friend. He had Richard’s confidence, and frequently, when Richard was in trouble, he found excellent council in Gabriel. When Mercier had returned with Gabriel, Richard asked them both to sit down. Then, having ensured that no one could hear what would be spoken between the four men, having ordered Rémy, his secretary, who was keeping watch in the adjacent room, to prevent anyone from entering the office, he recounted from the beginning the details of that strange affair. Gabriel and Mercier listened in perfect silence.

When Richard had finished, Gabriel stood up and said: “You must put the 20,000 francs in the envelope, but the real 20,000.”

“That’s also my opinion,” agreed Mercier, and he added: “And we must inform the Commissary of Police!”

“Not on your life!” cried Gabriel.

NOTES:

[4] The letters monogrammed on this handkerchief are “F.O.” in the French, and it is the translator’s theory that this is short for Fantôme [de l’] Opéra. These initials have therefore been translated as “P.O.” for Phantom [of the] Opera. It is possible that the rest of the items in Mme Giry’s basket were meant to be Erik’s possessions, as well. For instance, the matches might be the implements that Erik used to write his various notes, since Leroux described that Erik’s handwriting looked like it was formed using the tips of matchsticks, presumably dipped into his signature red ink. It is also tempting to think of Erik reading a story about vampires, since there are certain aspects of his character, such as sleeping in a coffin bed, that appear to be drawn from vampire literature. It is certainly amusing that Leroux inserted this slightly self-referential element of a character reading a feuilleton within his own feuilleton. However, it remains unclear why these items were in Mme Giry’s basket. Like so many other details in Leroux’s novel, we have no definitive answers.

[5] A thorough search of Le Petit Journal, a Parisian daily newspaper similar to Le Gaulois, from 1863 to 1910 can find no feuilleton by the name of La Fille du Vampire. It is likely that this serialized novel was Leroux’s invention.

[6] This exclamatory phrase in French is “lustre et balustre,” which literally means “chandelier and baluster” (the baluster in this instance is the ornate stem of the chandelier into which the candle-bearing arms are inserted). This particular use of these words may be an expression of Leroux’s own devising, as it does not appear in contemporary books of French wordplay. That said, the words “lustre” and “balustre” frequently appear together in French grammar books as rhyming pairs, so there is likely a subtextual relationship between them. Instead of attempting an idiomatic translation, the translator has chosen a more literal translation, albeit one that captures some of the phrase’s rhyming quality, in order to retain the chandelier reference, since this gives the phrase its menace.

[7] The Bank of Saint Farce was pretend currency, similar to play money.

Click here to see the entire edition of Le Gaulois from 4 November, 1909. This link brings you to page 3 of the newspaper — Le Fantôme is at the bottom of the page in the feuilleton section. Click on the arrow buttons at the bottom of the screen to turn the pages of the newspaper, and click on the Zoom button at the bottom left to magnify the text.

[thelostgirl21]

You are very welcome.

And while they are extremely well meaning, I read some of the comments in the replies, and I would say to be careful with some over-generalizations.

For example, saying "stay away from apps, it's better to..."

If you go on an app to meet people, there's bound to be other people potentially compatible with you that are going on apps to meet people, too.

Apps can be overwhelming because, just like in "real life" (a.k.a. life offline), they are filled with tons of different and sometimes weird (not the good kind) people.

But there are also gems in there, including introverted people for whom socialization or "naturally making contact with a seemingly nice and interesting looking stranger on the street" doesn't come easy.

And, while I do know people that found the "great love of their lives"™ through a friend of a friend, such situations can sometimes get messy.

Because when you get introduced to one of your friend's friends, that friend can kind of (without any malice on their part) put some pressure on you two to make it work, because they already "ship you two together".

In a context where you have a fear of rejection, you might consciously or subconsciously fear to disappoint or insult your friend should you not be compatible with the one they introduced you to, and try too hard to make it work to "please that friend", even if there are some things bothering you or little red flags trying to draw your attention.

Your friend might often keep asking you "so, how did it go?", while being all excited, and getting overinvolved, forcing you to put up some solid boundaries.

Not to mention that if you bring some of the red flags you've noticed to their attention, they could have the reflex of minimizing / justifying their friend's more worrying behavior, given how positively they perceive them.

So, if telling a close friends to politely mind their own business because it's confusing you doesn't come easy for you, it can become an added challenge on top of already attempting to navigate the beginnings of a relationship.

And those aren't necessarily things people will think to tell you.

Hence why I say that, when people tell you "avoid this or that context for meeting someone", know that there's almost always some type of bias involved.

You'll have people telling you that the best and most enduring types of relationships are those that start with being friends with someone first, because that's what ended up working for them.

But if you ever experience a strong mutual crush that swoops you off your feet, it could work just as well!

What will make it work, ultimately, is how you both take it from there and your ability (yes it's a huge cliché, I know, but it's still true) to learn to communicate needs and wants clearly, and become teammates dedicated to making each other feel safer and stronger together as you would on your own.

Your willingness to pool resources together and use each other's strengths to compensate for areas where your partner struggles more is a much bigger indicator of a relationship's potential success than how, where and when you met.

For example, my partner struggles putting words on emotions and gets easily overwhelmed by them when they get too strong.

I'm the opposite. I can clearly name and identify exactly what I feel, how it affects and influences me in the now, and put it aside to deal with it later if need be.

So, when there's conflict, I've learned that once I've made my case, I must give my partner room and space for him to retreat, think about my arguments more rationally, and then return when he feels more level headed. Otherwise, I'll push him into a corner where he'll start panicking, and use my own strengths against him.

We keep telling people that communication in relationships is key, but seldom take the time to explain the why and/or the how.

The truth is that humans are huge posers that like to project certain images or make things look easier than they are. We have egos, we seek approval, we try to look good in front of others. Couples will want to project the image of the perfect team.

It doesn't show you the amount of work, nurturing and care that goes into those relationships to make it work.

It doesn't teach you that you'll need to "learn how to fight"... but fight FAIR while aiming for win-win resolutions to conflicts.

It doesn't tell you that "good communication" involves establishing your own communication style and rules together as well.

Hollywood and the people around you are selling you a dream often without showing you all that is happening behind the scenes to make those relationships work. And, while there are some helpful guidelines, there's no "one size fits all".

And if you discover people's romantic expectations don't suit you, there are plenty of ways to experience relationships that don't need to fit neat little boxes.

Off the top of my head, I would say those would be some of the most important questions to ask yourself when you're wondering if the relationship could work and/or if it's working:

Does this person make me feel safe in the relationship,

Do I feel like I can trust them, or like I could learn to trust them as we continue getting to know each other better,

How do they respond to me when I expose my own vulnerabilities and insecurities to them (are they supportive and attempting to make themselves appear less intimidating, or are they mocking and attempting to make me feel smaller / defective),

Are they attempting to better understand me and learn to use communication styles that we'll both be comfortable using and clearly understand,

Are our respective needs and wants compatible and giving birth to mutual goals we can both work towards,

Do we make each other stronger and share a similar level of commitment to making the relationship work,

Does it enhance my level of happiness and sense of personal fulfillment in a way that makes me feel like the efforts and time I am investing in the other person are worth it?

And get ready for things potentially "not working out" despite the strong love, mutual understanding, or the amazing communication skills sometimes!

You might discover that you are extremely compatible as people, but that your life goals and objectives do not align. And you may realize you make better close trusted friends than romantic or even queerplatonic partners.

"Rejecting the partnership because you can't work together towards a mutual goal" does not have to mean "rejecting the person themselves".

And yes, you can absolutely stay close friends with an "ex" depending on the reasons that lead you to "break up".

When there's no abuse involved, and it's mostly a question of incompatible goals / lifestyles, there's no reason why you should cast each other from your respective lives.

So, I guess the big takeaway from this is that human partnerships are very complex dynamics that require a lot of time and effort to build and make work. But if you do find a good partner for you (or good partners, as polyamory is also a thing), they can offer you some added sense of safety, understanding, happiness and strength in your life.

Dating thoughts: I envy all the people who met someone for one or two times and already tell everyone: they are the love of my life.“

Of course this is most often not the reality but I wish I could have this confidence, instead I struggle with a lot of aspects

For example many of my female friends told me it is totally normal that some people do not want to hold hands etc in public before a relationship is not official. But I think it is kinda frustrating not to steal a touch here and there.

Never being in a relationship ever before gives me - on the one hand - the freedom to not care about all the bullshit rules people apparently have made up, but - on the other hand - lets me struggle a lot because I do not understand all the rules and immediately interpret it as an rejection

But how to address that without coming off as clingy and hysterical? I don’t think that’s possible.

So I just sit here and wonder.

[pepperspottice]

🌶️ : " Burnt my food AGAIN! Gosh, I need to learn how to cook someday . . "

[krirebr]

Hi Kris 😍 can you tell me anything about If It Breaks Don’t Force It 👀

Hi Suz! I absolutely can! @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory also asked about this one.

Ohhhh ho ho, It Breaks If You Don't Force It is my basement husband!Curtis fic. 😈😈😈 It's got a completely deranged short!reader and features lots of size kink, lots of power plays, a lot of bondage. Poor Curtis is going to have a very hard time. 😭

@bigtreefest When I said the other day that I'd never been mean to Curtis in a posted fic, this is what I was referring to. 🫣

Here's a little excerpt:

I really gotta get back to this one!

Ask me about my wips

[orchideae]

A little unpopular opinion on something I've seen happen more commonly throughout November/December and wanted to address quickly for my own blog: Please never hesitate to reblog anything from me. You see me reblogging a sentence starter list that you like? Go for it and reblog it from me directly without any pressure on you whatsoever to send anything into me before doing so. You like a GIF-set or musing that I reblogged? Nab it from me, it'll brighten my day to see that we share an interest in something. I like to see interaction between me and anyone who follows me. I like to see that little activity notification light up.

Honestly, it simply reminds me that we're all part of a community, and more specifically, a fandom that consists of characters and nations that we all came to love and then share that amongst ourselves. And honestly, seeing a reblog happen shortly after me but it's from the source, creates (in my opinion) an odd sense of chosen disconnect between people that can feel awkward, it's as if we're walking on eggshells as to not rub each other the wrong way. But what's wrong about going 'Hey, I see what you reblogged, I like it too!', it even gives you potential common ground to start a conversation. We're a community, and I don't know about you, but I like seeing people interact with each other beyond merely threads and notes. It's the little things that matter, after all.

[quinloki]

Hey @alexa-fika I'm answering this this way because I chewed on it a little and didn't want to share the link. It's not the possible spoilers of it, just so much that the caption IS mean, and I didn't want anyone to gives views and clicks to such a mean-spirited thing.

And Kid is... hm, he's not easily digestible that's for sure. I don't think he's dislikeable at all, I just think the kind of person he is isn't for everyone. Built up from his past and his upbringing and such though, Kid is Kid. He makes sense - something I do have to give Oda credit for in terms of a lot of his characters.

Doflamingo made sense - I use him as an example because we got a detailed rundown of his past. We know where he came from, what he went through, and have a basic idea of how he ended up as he was. It's not meant to make us dismiss his actions, but there's enough there for us as the audience to say "Okay, I can see how he got here."

We don't have all of Kid's details, but enough to be able to say "Okay, I can see how he got here."

And if this was Kid's Story™ and not Luffy's Story™ then I think how his personality and bravado are perceived would be very different. But I also think you could make One Piece as a story with Kid at the center of it because there's a lot of overlap between him and Luffy in regards to their actions, sorrows, motivations, and strengths.

We don't get as much detail with Shanks, but as a literary device Shanks is meant to be mostly an enigma. We have no idea who his parents were, don't know what Roger said to him at the end, why he made the decisions he did (i.e. not going for the one piece right after Roger's execution). This allows Oda to have plenty of room to utilize this character as he wants and needs to.

Which is I think Shanks being/becoming a villain is just as plausible as him being a "good" guy throughout. And I don't really like the idea of "good" and "bad" in One Piece, because there's already so much from the show itself that bucks those perceptions.

Pirates are supposed to be bad Marines are supposed to be good

But canonically we've learned that your chances of finding help are fairly equivalent whether you run up to a Marine or a Pirate.

More correctly Pirates are Free Marines are Bound

Pirates are free to act as they please, and Marines are bound to a system that dictates when and how they can act.

It's brilliant story telling, honestly, and one of the reasons I love the series so much.

As for the latest episode, I did answer a couple asks on my Kid Pirate Sideblog @punks-never-die205 that go into more detail about how I felt about the episode and how I think it could resolve.

I'm dying to see the outcome in the manga, and I hope it's something like I expect, but honestly. This is Oda's story. Just like with anything I'd write, while he does have certain parameters and limitations he has to abide for commercial reasons, it's still HIS story.

He's entertained me and millions for years and more, so I think he deserves to end it as he pleases. I just hope he pleases to end it in the ways I think he will xD

[somegrumpynerd]

charlie ily and i so appreciate your irish luck but unfortunately it has not worked bc i am STILL HERE! it's almost 5pm! and i might have to come back!

(im so sorry to complain in your inbox im just shuffling around in a hallway Waiting so ive come to bug you lol)

UGH that sucks I'm so sorry D: Waiting around for stuff is an absolute nightmare, I really really hope you don't get picked and can go home. Here lemme try and concentrate my irish beams

[countlessrealities]

Okay, what happens when we replace the shiny crystal with Chance

Unprompted asks || Always accepting !

{ in reference to THIS ASK }

Unlike the previous question, this one elicits a much more somber, closed off reaction. Rick's face darkens and he glances away, a mixture of sorrow and guilt curling his features in a scowl. All his body language screams how he does not want to answer the query, in any fashion.

He could refuse. He could tell the sender to shove his fucking question where the sun doesn't shine and then to choke on it. However, that would leave lingering doubts and false hopes, would it? And he has learnt the hard way how those could be even more destructive than a hard, painful truth.

He and Clarissa...Chance now...have a complicated history. They have gone through a lot together, they have put each other through a lot. The wounds they have inflicted to each other have started to heal only now, after over eight and an incredibly troubled reunion. The feelings that they have shared, the good and bad alike, have always been passionate, intense, blinding.

He is glad that they have been given a chance to patch things up. He is happy to have Chance in his life. The other makes him a better person, even if he might never admit this out aloud. And he loves the man, he does, with the same fervor he had loved Clarissa all those years ago. He doesn't want to lose him again, no matter what. He'd go to the end of the multiverse and back to keep him by his side, and he is ready to do it.

However, Chance is not Rick. No one could ever be like his counterpart, no one could ever mean what his other self means to him.

Rick is his best friend, the love of his life, his other half (literally in a way), his soulmate. He'd give up the whole multiverse for him, leave behind everything he has, loves and has ever known just for the chance to be with him.

In a scenario where he's risking to lose them both, with no option other than picking one of them...He would hesitate, yes, but only for a few moments. The choice is painfully obvious, even if that doesn't make speaking the answer out loud any easier.

"...Rick."

{ @advnterccs (Rick) & @dynamoprotocol (Chance) - mentioned }