#also love how accurate the wire is

[cheapcheapfaker]

dukie, michael n his little brother going to six flags together having fun just being kids

[ragnars-tooth]

I should not have been taught so badly for 3 years that i genuinely have to google how to find job postings in my field. "Get a degree!! Get a degree!!" for why. To be laughed at by out of touch tutors and not taught anything? It's certainly not going to help me get a job because i CANT FIND THEM. "People will see you went here and that will give you credibility." Will it roderick. Because I now know not to trust a motherfucker who went here 💀

[targaryenluvs]

— BEST LIFE

pairings: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader (past), harvey specter x fem!juniorpartner!reader (present)

summary: you’d once been apart of the bau team, but after a situation and a falling out with your boyfriend you moved on. what happens when the bau needs your help on a case, which your boyfriend harvey is also assisting on?

warnings: angsty, asshole harvey cause duh, jealousy (spencer) kisses, cute harvey

wordcount: 1.7k

a/n: this literally sprouted in my mind and i just needed to write it lmao, if you haven’t watched suits or criminal minds go right now‼️ they’re both my husbands 😋

when jessica had called you into her office, you’d been calm. apparently one of your cases, which had you and harvey working together, was now of fbi interest. your client was currently suing a company for faulty wiring in his home, which caused it to burn down. and it was apparently not the case at all, the home was suspected to be tied into a serial arsonist.

what you didn’t expect was for your client to be accused of being the arsonist.

“you’re sitting here,”

“uh-huh.”

“telling me,”

“yup.”

“that i’m supposed to believe that richard jeena, the fifty three year old little man, is a serial arsonist?”

you shut the file infront of you, meeting harvey’s eye, “sweetheart?” he uncrossed his legs, leaning forwards with a sweet smile, “yes?” you leaned forwards as well, “that, is exactly what i’m telling you.” harvey leaned back into his chair, disbelief riddling his face.

“and the fbi is flying here?” you nodded along, “fbi agents?” you nodded again, “probably field agents or whatever they’re called. they’ll sit in on the trial, survey the scenes, collect evidence and all.” the familiar clicking of donna’s heels brought a smile to your face, “profilers.”

your heart dropped with one word, “what’d you say?” donna made her way to the two of you, plopping herself down in the chair next to you, “it’s those fbi profilers. yknow, they look at the room and can tell you if he’s left or right handed, blonde, mommy issues and all. nice little packaged criminal profile in seconds.” you couldn’t help correcting her, having dealt with your fair share of assumptions in your years as a profiler.

“that’s not how it works,” harvey swiveled in his chair as donna looked your way, “oh?” harvey smirked as you sighed, “that’s not how it works, we don’t just walk into a room and have it speak to us. we survey the place, fresh eyes and open minds. we look for the things that everyone else seems to miss. we put ourselves in the minds of the criminals themselves, to get a better understanding of them, why they did it and all. you work your way back, start from the victim maybe, see where they’ve been, what they did in the last week, who they talk to. sometimes the killers in their personal circle but not always. every case is different, we try our best to provide an accurate, unbiased profile.”

“i want to take you on my desk, right now.” you rolled your eyes at your boyfriends words as donna stared intently, “we. you said ‘we’, as if you know what they do and their job. oh my god, you use to be one. that’s the job you had before coming here! you have a degree in criminal justice, and you said your last job you were at for what, seven years?”

“i graduated high school early, entered harvard at a young age, graduated, entered the fbi at the same time as a— friend. was also studying law, sat the exam in new york since it’s where i wanted to be. finished up at harvard, i was mid to late twenties when i left, wound up here and am now a junior partner, capiche?”

“could just say your age.” mike stood by the door with a wad of files in his hand, “i’d rather die, mike.” harvey laughed, “please don’t incentivise my lovely girlfriend to killing herself mike.”

“as nice as it is to see you all bonding, and trust me, it hits me right in the heart, jessica wants yourself and y/n in the conference room.” louis spoke from the door as you stood up, “first of all, trust with you is fickle, second, tell it to hit you in the face next time lou.” you smacked harvey’s arm as he held his arms up, “friendly fire, i’ll put it out later.” you shoved him by his back before smiling at louis, “i’m sorry about him, he’s not a big fan of the fbi.” louis nodded as he followed you, “duly noted.”

“she’s right, damn pigs.” harvey joked as you approached the conference room, “your highness,” you grinned, “you never treat me so nicely when we’re at home harvey.” he held his hand over his heart, “now don’t lie sweetheart, i’m as nice as mike.” the snort that left your lips had harvey doubling over, “oh please, nice as mike? you wish.”

your giggles were drained from your throat as you stared at half of your old team.

derek morgan, emily prentiss, penelope garcia & spencer reid. the last name, and face you’d still not looked at yet. thankfully, harvey noticed your tenseness, “y/n? sweetheart, you alright?” there it was, that word, sweetheart. spencer couldn’t help but wonder, was it just a word? you always use to call him it, before you dated, teasing of course.

“yeah, i’m fine harv.” he nodded, even if he didn’t believe you he could always ask later on. pulling out his and yours chairs, you sat next to one another. “harvey specter & y/n l/n?” emily questioned as you nodded, “the one and only. and then there’s y/n.” harvey leaned back in his chair, whilst derek stared him down.

what an ass. is what he wanted to say, it was also what he assumed emily was thinking. “emily.” she glanced over at you, surprised at you using her name, “it’s nice to see you all. how’ve you been?” and the bewildered expression was wiped clean off your face, no remnant left. you were a damn lawyer, if there was one thing you’d learned, it was to keep a straight face.

penelope smiled, “we’ve been good, y/n. but we miss you, back home. you’re a lawyer now huh?” you grinned, “the one and only.” harvey squeezed your hand, you squeezed back. “youngest junior partner, ever. my dream. just hoping to make it to senior partner soon, take the title of youngest out from under this guy. i’m happy here, i hope you are too. but down to business.”

and for the next few hours, you’d sat and listened. overlooking the case files, giving statements, reviewing security footage from surrounding houses. at some point mike ended up in the room, having met with your client and being harvey’s associate.

you’d had the pleasure of introducing spencer and mike, the two undeniably similar. you felt comfortable, even betting with penelope that if they touched the world would implode.

“and how much would he loose?”

“127,478.23.” mike and spencer rushed out as the rest of you fought to suppress your smiles, “well y/n, seems like we’ve got a genius-off.” derek laughed as the two men looked towards you, “don’t worry i’ll still love you mike.” mike scoffed at your words, “what makes you think i’d loose?”

“because i know you, and i know reid. trust me, you’d loose.”

reid. not spencer, spence, sweetheart. none of the above, you’d used his last name. as if he was nothing more than a colleague.

“okay, we’ve been here for far too long. and as much as i’d like to sit here and slowly rot, i’d rather do that at the restaurant i have booked for dinner with two lovely ladies. y/n and i have a trial date tomorrow, 8.00am. i think, we bring him along, show him what’s to happen if he doesn’t confess, than toast victory champagne when said confession rolls through. how’s that sound?” if derek’s grin was any indicator, besides a big fat yes?

spencer wanted to puke, ‘lovely ladies?’ multiple women? this man was insufferable. you gathered yourself and harvey’s files, a hand gestured towards you, the last file in said hand. “thanks reid.” he smiled, “no problem-o.” your eyebrows furrowed, “never change do you?” spencer didn’t have time to respond, his brain was too busy blowing a fuse as harvey opened the door for you. “ready for dinner lovely lady?” they all heard harvey ask as you nodded, the four watched as you walked out, his hand on your back as he pecked you on the lips.

“reid, you alright?” derek’s hand rested on his shoulder, “i’m fine, why wouldn’t i be fine? don’t we have places to be? hotch would want to know their on our side, that they reviewed all the information. they’ll help us get a confession out of him.” derek sighed, “because you just saw your ex, who you haven’t seen in years. the one you never got over, happily living in new york as comfortable as possible. a successful business woman and lawyer, happily in a relationship.”

spencer shook his head, “you don’t know that.” emily directed a sympathetic smile his way, “we sat with them for three hours. we watched them laugh, bounce off of eachother for theories, quite literally finish eachothers sentences. order food for eachother without asking, and get their meals right. they held hands when they could, he continued to call her sweetheart. and now they’re going out to dinner.”

spencer’s shoulder dropped, they were right. he’d come here excited at the possibility of seeing you again, talking to you. maybe even beginning again with you. instead, you’re apparently with some suited up asshole. he was annoyingly sweet when it came to you though.

as if the whole three hours weren’t a slap in the face, harvey’s voice rung out through the hallway, “there’s my lovely lady!” rachel, who they’d all met earlier on, was currently guiding a young girl to harvey’s arms. “daddy!” if hearts were boats, than his was sinking. he may have had a chance beforehand, but now?

“is mommy here?” your daughter was currently situated on harvey’s hip, “why don’t you hug her and find out?” your arms were out in the open as your daughter squealed before running to you, “d’you have a fun day with rach?” she nodded her head rapidly as yourself and harvey smiled, he stood behind you, chest to back. his hand rested on your waist as the other moved aside hair from her face, before moving hair from your own.

“now, my lovely ladies, it’s time for dinner.”

lovely ladies, for once, spencer had made a mistake. harvey was going out with multiple women, but not in the way he thought. his daughter and the mother of his child, you.

his words and actions meant nothing, they would mean nothing. you were happy, so happy. you had everything you wanted, a loving marriage and man, a gorgeous family. something spencer hadn’t given you. a man who knew you could hold your own. spencer knew that too, but he couldn’t help himself back then.

right now, you were living your best life.

[livelaughlovesubs]

Boothill wire play 2

This one is NSFW

Dom!mechanic!reader x sub!boothill

Warning: wire play, teasing, dry orgasm (?), overstimulation (a little maybe)

Nini!rant: wire play feels like ‘playing with the intestines’ and idk how to feel about it

Those hands of yours were all over his body again, just like before when you experimented on him. The difference this time: he was the one actively asking you to do it.

To do what? You must be wondering. It was to experience that weirdly beautiful sensation he felt during your little operation. There were not a single vocabulary that could describe that tingly yet addicting feeling, one that pestered his mind long after it occurred. Beautiful was what he used earlier, though not even that is accurate enough. He clenched his sharp teeth, gritting them against each other while you used the aku drill on him. One skew after another, without rushing anything. Soon, you were able to get rid of his outer shell again.

Truth be told, you didn’t know he felt that way, and now you were perplexed on whether you support it or not. Whenever you are fumbling around with his systems or inner workings, you were bathed in sweat, proof of your nervousness. So to hear he liked it- further than that, he enjoyed it was shocking news. You weren’t doing anything meaningful, only fulfilling his desires and needs. He wanted you to touch his wires, pull on them and stroke them. If you put it this way, it did sound perverted. “Tell me the moment you don’t feel well.” You told him, hands hesitantly resting above the many metals and plastics. “Gotcha, I’ll do just as you say.” Boothill smiled at you, to reassure you, also to hide his own excitement.

He was looking forward to this so much that he was gripping the edge of the table, face already slightly red while his lips curled into a twitching grin. Look how much fun he’s having, were you the only one worried? You sighed, since you already agreed you couldn’t go back on your word now. Slowly, as if to test the waters and his sensitivity, you tapped one of the larger wires located around his stomach. There wasn’t much a reaction, only a breathy gasp and the tightening of his grip on the poor furniture. Hopefully he won’t break it.

You continued with only your fingertips, noticing how you weren’t able to get rid of the lingering concerns within you. Another sigh slipped from your lips, eye browns furrowed together as your finger traced along the black latex of the wire. Suddenly he leaned down with his upper body, causing you to take your hand back. “Boothill, don’t move so suddenly. You scared me for a sec.” That was the truth, you thought he was going to fall over or something. Instead, he gripped your shoulders and stared right into your eyes. He had a somewhat troubled expression on his face, groaning into your ears, “no need to be soft on me, you hear’? Just go rough. I can take it, I-”

Since he said so, you pulled on one of them, enough for it to stretch a little. “Nghh..?!” His eyes widened and his head jerked back, “fudgeee… that’s right, just like that.” Was it really that good? You didn’t expect something like this to suddenly feel nice all because you installed some sensors, and apparently it not only a good feelings, he was feeling pleasure. As if your curiously got pecked, you wrapped your index finger and thumb around a thicker wire and stroked it sloppily. A simple motion like that yearned you a moan from the male, and some drool hung out from his mouth. “Shirtshirtshirt…! Do that again, y/n, fork- hnngh…”

For him, it was the best thing he was felt in a long while. Whenever you caressed his insides like that, he feels the need to smash his fist against something. On one hand it was kind of embarrassing, especially those weird noises he can’t seem to hold back, then again he loved every second of it. With each passing minute, you got more bold and daring. At first you only touched him with your delicate fingers, then with your entire hand. Sometimes you’d rub multiple wires at the same time with your palm. Everything you did resulted in loud and high-pitched whines from the cyborg, ranging from muffled groans to blissful whimpers. You ate all of that up like a starved man, enjoying the fact that he was bathing in ecstasy.

It fuelled your own enthusiasm, seeing his face twist into erotic yet lewd expressions. Eyes rolling back and tongue sticking out, a dark crimson blush covering those soft cheeks of his and pupils forming little hearts. If this wasn’t adorable, then what was? “Do you like it when I do…” you tried something new again, twisting a sturdy looking one around your middle finger. “…this?” The sound of your giggles lingered around his ears, soon he felt some kind of electricity course through this artificial body of his. It didn’t divide from its path, going straight to his brain, stimulating all the right, euphoric places. “Da-dadgum wubabboo… he-hey.. slow down a li’l, uUgGhh..! Tis’ to-too much..” The cowboy said with many stutters.

“Oh? You were telling me to go rougher just mere seconds ago, now I have to slow down again?” You teased him, taking a step closer to him, until your noses were almost touching. “Are you sure?” You were so close to him that he could feel the vibration of your voice against his skin, the only part of him that was still ‘human’. Nevertheless, you didn’t change your pace, continuing to pull and rub all those places inside him that made him see stars. If you keep doing this, he might just get addicted to it. That wouldn’t be good. Aren’t you toying with his body too much? Sure, he was the one to convince you to try this, but he didn’t know it’d be this overwhelming..!

Boothill could only try to curse while gritting his teeth, doing his utmost best to hold back those unsightly moans. Even though you seemed like you liked his humiliated face a lot. Then you moved downwards, hoovering over the ground, with your face inches in front of the many wires. Next thing he knew, you licked the plastic, some of your saliva stayed stuck to it. It caused him to let out a scream-akin groan. The initial shock and pleasure caught him so off guard that he came, though nothing actually came out. What a poor cowboy, he can only ever have ‘dry orgasms’ due to the restrictions of his new body. He could only tremble and shake while moaning out, “AaahHrRggg.?! D-don’t fudge with me… like that..hnGgh, ah-mHmm.!! Too fa-fast, ca-can’t take this..♡”

[skydaemon]

Okay I’m awake again and something that really stood out to me with TSC was how different jean and neil are as protagonists. I expected they would be, but the thing I really noticed was how distinct their reactions were.

So, these books are HEAVY. There are many many traumatic events and the characters spend a lot of time in high-stress situations. Even when they’re not being attacked or threatened or XYZ, they’re often in a state of heightened physiological arousal (their sympathetic nervous system is going haywire). As a psychologist, the thing I find really interesting is that we see very different reactions that are all aligned with different adrenal responses, and I wanted to talk about it.

As a baseline, when your sympathetic nervous system is activated, you typically experience what some psychologists call the four Fs. Fight, flight, freeze, and/or fawn (some people use another word here but I don’t like it and think it’s less accurate to the situation). These can occur simultaneously or alone. And of the four characters who are most showing this response are the ones who are consistently in the highest stress situations, but who are also traumatised in such a way that even when they’re not actively in danger their sympathetic nervous system is overreactive and heightened.

So first off, we have Neil. He’s pretty clearly shown to have two responses: flight and fight. For his entire childhood, he’s been fleeing from danger and in the earlier parts of AFTG, we see this response - he tries to run as far as he can possibly get from anything that might be a risk. As a side point, this is pretty clearly a learned response from his mother. As Neil begins to feel more secure and his flight response is impeded (he can’t run away) we see the emergence of his other primary adrenal response - fight. I don’t feel like I need to explain this one, tbh, we’ve all seen how he runs his mouth. Fight is also typically shown when you believe you can defeat whatever’s threatening you, so I love what this says about how his confidence develops across the trilogy.

Then you have Andrew. He’s not a POV protagonist but I feel like his response might be the most obvious. His primary responses are fight and freeze (Andrew Minyard runs from/fawns for no man). Fight is pretty obvious - he’s a very violent person - but I feel like the most clear example of this is stopping Riko from attacking Neil. Andrew is obviously wired and his instinctive response is to protect. I love that for him. His other primary response, unfortunately, is freeze. Based on the most obvious time we see it (during Drake's attack), this is probably a response he developed as a child, before he felt strong/safe enough to fight back. God, these books make me sad sometimes.

Next is Kevin. He has a slightly more varied response - i can see the argument for him freezing, although i wouldnt say it's a primary response - but his main two responses are fight and fawn. Fight isn't necessarily literal, btw - the most obvious example is covering his tattoo. His fawn response is slightly more expanded on in TSC (mild spoilers if you haven't read that yet) when we see him responding to Riko's attack by begging first Riko and then Jean to intercede and stop the violence. he's trying to appeal to their affection for him, which is absolutely heartbreaking. Kevin i love you.

And finally, we have Jean, whose primary responses are only really made clear in TSC, although they are backed up by his appearances in the trilogy - freeze and fawn. We see freezing in Jean's response to sympathetic nervous system arousal, often from hearing about or recalling upsetting events/information. He closes in on himself and becomes unresponsive. Fawn is slightly more complicated, as we see it somewhat throughout AFTG. when he's loyal to riko and doing things he thinks riko will like in hopes of reducing any potential pain/threat he will experience, i'd call that fawning. an example at usc is him getting on his knees and handing coach rhemann his racket - he's not just submitting to punishment, he's trying to be helpful and well-behaved in hopes of lessening it. it's honestly a really strong response from him and it absolutely breaks my heart. jean in tsc is really struggling and i hope the last book brings him some peace. i also find it really painful that he's the only one of these boys without a fight response - he's never felt capable of winning against his abusers. i really hope the trojans and bee are able to help change that.

[historyslittlebish]

Hiii, I'd love to submit a request if possible? I love your writing so much :3

Been thinking about King Baldwin iv, and he strikes me as the type of man to absolutely *melt* at head scratches. I'm thinking he's in pain and so tired, but super wired from having to deal with everything that's thrown at him. His wifey comes along, scratches his head, and he is ~out~. (And who doesn't love em: titty pillow???) Hope my rambling makes sense!

-Anon <3

A/n: I barley wrote much but tysm! I really like this idea because as someone who is sensory sensitive in general, its a great feeling. I was told I had really fluffy hair by a girl in my class in 3rd grade and she would spend most of reading time playing with my hair and stuff so yeah. Anyways here's a mini one shot. I hope this is accurate to some degree because again I never saw the movie and I was doing this at 2am soooo

=======================================

Warning: insecurities, slight angst, comfort and fluff

Baldwin sighed as he entered his quarters. Parts of his body were sore and aching for a relief of sorts. His eyes wandered towards the bed and he saw your beautiful/handsome figure. Your soft H/C hair was being braided/brushed by your own hand. After you finished the last of your nighttime routine, you turned and with a soft smile, beckoned your husband to come sit on the bed with you.

Happily, Baldwin obliged and slowly trudged his way over to you and slowly sat down.

As he sat down his muscles felt weak and sore. He let out a pained groan before settling on the bed, relaxing himself.

"My love, are you in pain tonight?" You asked as your hands reached over and gently stroked his clothed arm. Baldwin sighed and looked over to you, his eyes felt wet and he took his only functioning hand and grasped your smaller one with it.

"How can you love a man like me? What do you see in me?" Baldwin asked. He felt his heart ache for a true answer.

"Because you are a great man, you were god's design, you are a kind and strong ruler." You replied as you gently hugged his arm and rested you face on his shoulder.

"Would you like me to soothe you before you sleep?" You asked and you slowly reached to take off the yarmulke from his head while at the same time, hesitantly, Baldwin reached to remove his iron mask.

You both sat in silence as you stared at your dear husband. You smiled and leaned over pressing a kiss to the crown of his head, then beckoning him to lie down on your lap.

He allowed himself to lean into your touch as rested on your thighs.

While gently stroking his deformed face, you began to massage his scalp and stroke his shoulders and back.

There was a deep rumble in Baldwin's chest, a sound of pleasure from whatever sensory he could feel. He slowly lifted himself and pushed you onto the bed and grabbed the blanket to cover the two of you.

He nuzzled himself onto your chest and let out a sigh on content.

You giggled as continued to stroke, massage, and scratch him. He thanked God he is blessed with a woman/man like you as his love...He also prayed you would be alright, never contracting the same, awful disease he has.

Edit: @bl00dyarak I fixed it so the fic can be applied to both female and male people (or nonbinary too because you can read it as such) :)

[agatharkn3ss]

Lilia's premonitions theory (contains spoilers)

Well, my brain has been in overdrive and I love puzzles so... "buckle up!"

If it's too long for you - you can jump straight into the last section titled "How does it all fit"... I really think there could be something there.

OTHER THEORIES

There have been many theories about Lilia's powers and her moments of visions. Some think it's just some loose wiring on most part, some think it's past traumatic events catching up with her, some think they are predictions of the future, some even went as far as suggesting that Lilia (loosely) predicts the last words of the next person who's going to die (based on the fact she said "Get off me!" in ep.2 and we hear Sharon shout "Don't touch me!" in ep.3). But we keep seeing more and more of Lilia's blips in ep.4, they make less sense to any of the above theories, so personally I am not sold on any of them.

There is also a possibility that her premonitions could just be linked to the events that follow - but the words aren't accurate because Lilia can't quite see the "full picture". So her screaming in her shop could be linked to Teen's reaction when Salem Seven attacked in that same episode. Or when she says "Alice, don't", we see Agatha pleading "Don't" with Rio.

BUT then I saw people discussing that maybe these are actually "misplaced" moments in time - from the future AND the past. And that they will make sense if they were said in the correct moment, but somehow got lost and sent to a different time. For example - when Lilia talks about the vampire by the campfire "You know, we really kind of hated each other in the beginning, but now..." then zones out. We could assume she's still talking about the vampire, but this pause could actually be easily filled with "I love you guys!" from the "botox" scene in ep.3, because she was actually touched by their campfire stories. Or when she shouts "Get off me" in ep.2, it could be taken right out of the ep.4 scene where she's burning on the floor, shouting "Get it off me!".

WHAT WE KNOW

All those theories got me mighty intrigued, so of course I made a list of all of Lilia's apparent 'blips' and tried to make sense of it! I believe there are two types of Lilia's visions - one where she has "wrong messages" and one where she exclaims names of tarot cards.

The tarot cards she mentioned so far:

Three of Pentacles - right after she wrote the coven names down

High Priestess - when she meets Jen at Agatha's house

Three of Swords - as Jen is trying to heal Teen

The "blips" are:

shouting and flailing her hands - when Agatha and Teen ask her to join the coven in ep.2

writing the coven names (same scene as above) - this is the only premonition where we see burst of power - the electricity flicker around her, the water boils and it all seems really intense.

shouting "Get off me!" and looking like she was pushing someone away - just before the witches begin summoning the Road

"I love you guys" - when Jen questions Sharon about her poison symptoms in ep.3

"Try to save Agatha" - when she and Agatha are searching for potion ingredients

"Which is it, am I wispy or am i kooky?" - when talking to Alice about her mum during the trial in ep.4

"Alice! Alice don't" - shortly after the one above

Zones out - during the campfire scene when she talks about the vampire scar

We also know that her Air trial will be all about tarot (confirmed by Patti herself) and the promos show Lilia in some sort of princess dress and tiara, Agatha as the green Wicked Witch of the West and Jen looking like the Evil Queen from Snow White but in the old hag form. This makes me think in her trial she will have to confront all those stereotypes about witches that she always said she hated so much. She will likely have to do a tarot reading too. There is also a room with ceiling full of swords that could fall down on them. And finally, in that same room there is a brief shot with her and Salem Seven, flowing mid-air.

One promo also shows one of Salem Seven (Vertigo) opening her mouth to release a swarm of cicadas (her spirit animal).

We know the witches slowly regain their powers once they passed their trial.

There is also this thing about Alice (I will need to make a separate post to explain this) - where my prediction is that in ep.5 she will try to protect the coven by attacking Agatha while she's in her "possessed" form. Unfortunately, Agatha will (willingly or not) completely syphon her powers and Alice will die.

HOW DOES IT ALL FIT?

Well. I think we will potentially get some answers during or after Lilia's trial, once she starts regaining her powers. I think Lilia will try to send a message to the witches in the past, but she will still be struggling with getting the times right.

I could almost see a scene where she sits at her crystal ball or does a tarot reading and talks, not realising that EVERYTHING she says is "sent out" without any filter.

Something like...

.........

Lilia is in a room with other witches, it is a high pressure situation because the Salem Seven are chasing them. Her task is to send the names of the witches to her past self so that Agatha can form her coven - they realised that without the list, they would've never gotten there. Maybe their existence or memory depends on it.

So Lilia starts a tarot reading and begins "tuning in" to her memories, saying the names of the revealed cards out loud - "High Priestess" (she says it in a surprise voice as her vision suddenly flickers to the moment of meeting Jen), "Three of Swords" etc. Maybe one of other witches in the room starts antagonising her kookiness, so that she would just hurry up, because this is not working and Salem Seven are close. So Lilia responds in annoyance "Which is it, am I wispy or am I kooky?!" But then she realises she is standing in front of Alice from the fire trial (in spirit anyway, Lilia is still physically in the scary room). She exclaims in relief "Alice!" and realises this is also her chance to warn Alice so that she doesn't die. She begins saying "Alice, don't try to save Agatha!", but mid way through, her spirit gets transported to the first trial, searching for potion ingredients. So Alice only hears "Alice don't..." and Agatha hears "...try to save Agatha". At some point Lilia is transported to sitting in front of the campfire, reminiscing their stories. This is a fond memory so she starts saying "You know, we really kind of hated each other in the beginning, but now.." and before she can finish, she gets transported back to the "Huge tiny lies" house "...I love you guys".

Maybe at some point Salem Seven break their way into the tarot room and one of them attacks Lilia. She screams "Get off me!" and pushes them away (while her spirit is transported to the moment before they opened the Road). Vertigo releases her cicadas, flying around Lilia's head. She flails her hands and screams, while her spirit is inside her shop where Agatha and Teen just approach her. She realises she's close, focuses all her energy and channels her spirit to write the list of names herself. It takes enormous effort to stay focused on that one moment, hence the energy around her is bursting. She either doesn't have enough time to finish writing Rio's name or feels cheeky and draws a black heart instead. She finishes by revealing and naming the last tarot card: "Three of Pentacles". She completes the task, the End!

....

So..... What does everyone think?!!!!!!

[elysiaheaven]

do you take requests? if you do, could i request ronin with a jirai kei/landmine mc? (landmine is typically used to refer to a girl (although, it can also be a guy) who is mentally unwell and on the verge of exploding, usually someone with bpd or bipolar)

if not, i 100% understand 😊

hi! I'm really tried my best to research if it's not accurate I'm so sorry.. also it's so cringe I made it so fluff imaooo

Words:1000!

Summary: you are bandaging him after a small accident

Genre: Fluff

Devotion-Ronin x G.N reader ^^

The air in your small apartment stinks of antiseptic. You’re kneeling on the stained carpet, frantically wrapping Ronin’s arm in gauze, trying to keep his skin together before the bleeding gets worse. His grin—obnoxious, smug, and endlessly irritating—remains intact despite the gash running from his shoulder down to his elbow.

“Should’ve seen it, babe. You should’ve seen how his face split open,” he chuckles, his voice raspy and far too casual for someone who just narrowly escaped murder charges. “I swear, it was art.”

You yank the bandage tighter than necessary, making him flinch.

"Ow. Easy, sweetheart."

“Shut up,” you snap, the sharpness in your voice cutting through the room like a knife. Your fingers tremble as you fasten the gauze into place, rage bubbling in your chest, threatening to boil over. It’s like every nerve in your body is frayed, ready to snap in half. “Just shut the hell up, Ronin. For five seconds. Do you know how close you were to getting caught? I had to drag your stupid body out of there!”

He doesn’t even flinch at the outburst. In fact, his grin grows wider, eyes gleaming with some twisted amusement. He’s enjoying this—the way you’re unraveling in front of him like a ribbon being pulled too hard from both ends.

“You’re so cute when you yell,” he says, leaning his head back against the wall, as if you aren't seething just inches away. "All dolled up in that pretty skirt, screaming like a little time bomb. God, I love you."

You grab a loose pillow from the couch and throw it at his face.

The pillow bounces off Ronin’s chest, but he catches it effortlessly, laughing softly under his breath. The sound grates on your nerves like nails on glass. You shove his shoulder—his injured shoulder—and he winces, though the grin never leaves his face.

“I swear to God, if you don’t stop—”

Before you can finish, he moves faster than you expect. His uninjured arm snakes around your waist, yanking you against him, despite your furious squirming. “What didja think, huh? That you were just gonna walk out on me?” His voice drops, a teasing drawl laced with menace, his words slithering into your ear.

"Let me go," you hiss, thrashing against his hold, but it’s no use. He tightens his grip, holding you firm like he’s cradling something precious that might shatter at any moment—and, God, maybe you will. The tension coiled inside you, the pressure building up like a bomb, is unbearable.

“Not happening, sweetheart.” He presses his lips to the top of your head, a mockery of tenderness. “Where else would you go, huh? You need me just as much as I need you.”

You hate how his words crawl under your skin, how they make you freeze for a moment too long. He knows exactly which buttons to push, exactly how to sink his claws in. You’ve tried so hard to stay composed, to keep the storm inside at bay, but with Ronin, the cracks in your armor spread faster than you can patch them.

"Don’t…" your voice falters, but you push at him again, weaker this time. "Don’t act like you care." The frustration and sadness twist together, tightening your chest like barbed wire. You hate him for making you feel this raw, this open.

“Oh, I care, darlin’. I care so much it hurts.” His hand slides up your back, slow and deliberate, grounding you even as you try to shove him away again. "That’s why you patched me up, didn’t you? You were scared."

"You almost got caught," you whisper, barely keeping it together. Your breathing’s erratic, the words stumbling out in broken pieces. "And now I’m stuck here… cleaning up your mess… again."

Ronin’s hand drifts up to your jaw, tilting your face toward him. His thumb traces the edge of your lips with a gentleness that makes your stomach turn. "You don’t have to fight me, sweetheart. I like you exactly the way you are—messy, angry, perfect.”

And that’s the worst part: You know he means it. He loves the chaos, feeds off it. Every time you teeter on the edge of breaking, he pulls you closer, cradling your madness like it’s something beautiful. And it scares you—how easily you could fall apart in his arms, how much you want to.

You sag against him, exhausted from the struggle, your body giving out before your mind can. Ronin’s arms tighten around you, holding you like a lifeline, like he knew all along you’d give in.

“There you go, Darling” he murmurs, a smile curling at the corner of his lips. "I’ve got you."

You lean into Ronin’s embrace, the tension in your muscles slowly unraveling as you sink against him, the warmth of his body contrasting with the chill of your frayed nerves. The soft thump of your heart beats steadily in your ears, a chaotic rhythm matching the swirl of emotions fighting for dominance within you.

“I know, I know,” he whispers, his voice low and soothing, almost conspiratorial, as if he’s sharing a secret meant only for you. “You’re a walking time bomb, but that’s what makes you so interesting.” He leans back slightly, just enough to catch your gaze, his devilish smirk never fading. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to watch a beautiful disaster unfold?”

You scowl at him, not in the mood for his games. “You think this is funny? You’re the reason I’m falling apart.”

Ronin chuckles softly, clearly amused. “Oh, babe, it’s way more entertaining than funny. You’re like a high-wire act without a safety net. Plus,” he adds, nudging your shoulder with his, “it’s not like I’m the one keeping secrets in a bloody basement.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “You don’t get it. This is real for me.” The shadows of your bipolar disorder loom large, threatening to engulf you. Some days, you can handle everything—navigate the chaos, juggle the highs and lows—but other days? It’s like being caught in a whirlwind, and right now, it feels like you’re spiraling toward the edge.

Ronin’s expression shifts, the playful glint in his eyes replaced with something deeper, more earnest. “Then let’s just be a mess together, yeah?” His fingers brush against your hair, tucking a loose strand behind your ear. “I mean, we can be extra dysfunctional, and I’m all in."

“Dysfunctional isn’t the half of it,” you mutter, your voice softer, the edge of your anger dulling as you look into his dark eyes, searching for a flicker of understanding.

“Ah, but that’s where the fun lies.” He leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek, teasingly whispering, “Besides, being a little devilish is my specialty. It’s like… embracing the chaos instead of running from it.”

You want to resist his allure, the way he pulls you in with every word, but there’s an undeniable comfort in his presence. He seems to understand the storm raging inside you, even when you barely grasp it yourself. “What if I explode?” you ask, half-joking, half-terrified of the reality that sits beneath the surface.

“Then I’ll catch you,” he promises, deadpan, but his eyes sparkle with mischief. “And we’ll make a real mess of things. I’ll grab a mop, and you can scream all you want. Just don’t think for a second that I’d let you go.”

You let out a shaky laugh, the tension in your chest easing just a fraction. “You’re impossible.”

“Exactly.” He leans back against the wall, still cradling you in his arms. “And that’s why you love me.”

You push at his shoulder playfully, but there’s no real force behind it. “I don’t love you. I tolerate you.”

“Oh, please.” He raises an eyebrow, grinning like a cat who just caught the canary. “You’re wrapped around my finger, darling. But that’s okay; I like you a little unhinged.”

“Unhinged?” you echo, the term sending a shiver through you. It’s a label you often grapple with, one that feels too close to home.

“Yeah, it’s like a badge of honor.” His eyes gleam as he continues, “You’re wild, unpredictable, and a bit of a mess. It’s like your own personal chaos aesthetic.” He lifts his hands in mock exaggeration, as if you’re some rare work of art. “And don’t forget—you’re mine. I can handle the explosion.”

His confidence in you is infuriating, but also oddly reassuring. You take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “You really think I can just… manage it all?”

Ronin nods, his gaze unwavering. “Of course. It’s all about balance, babe. You’ve got the fire; I’ve got the chaos. Together, we’re a beautiful disaster.”

You shake your head, a small smile creeping onto your lips despite yourself. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, you keep me around. See? That makes you the worst, too.” His smirk returns, cocky and playful. “You’re just as twisted as I am.”

“Not even close,” you retort, but the laughter in your voice betrays you.

He pulls you even closer, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “You just wait, sweetheart. I’ll help you embrace your wild side. You’ll see.”

The uncertainty lingers, but for now, you allow yourself to melt into his embrace, comforted by the warmth and chaos he brings. And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough for today.

You sink deeper into Ronin's embrace, the tension easing from your shoulders as his warmth envelops you. Your mind is still a jumble of emotions, but the soft fabric of your oversized hoodie—a faded black with intricate, pastel-hued patches—feels comforting against your skin.

“Nice hoodie, babe. I love how you rock that look,” Ronin said sarcastically, his fingers grazing the delicate lace trim at the sleeves. “So perfectly chaotic. It’s like you’re ready to explode at any moment.”

You roll your eyes, but a smile threatens to break through. “It’s called style. Not everything has to be about violence, you know.” Your hoodie hangs off one shoulder, exposing the frilly strap of the pink lace tank underneath. You feel ridiculous, and yet… it’s part of who you are.

Ronin chuckles, tugging playfully at the hem of your hoodie. “It’s a cute look. That top is like a warning sign, and the ruffles are practically screaming for attention.” His tone is teasing, but there's a hint of sincerity behind it that makes your heart flutter.

“Like your bloody bandages aren’t attention-grabbing enough?” you shoot back, gesturing toward the makeshift dressing he’s wrapped around his arm. You can’t help but notice how the contrast between your softer, pastel colors and his dark attire highlights the chaos you both embody. His signature look—black ripped jeans, a loose maroon tee, and a battered leather jacket—only enhances his devil-may-care attitude.

“Hey, it’s all about the aesthetic,” he says, his grin wide and unapologetic. “You can’t have a true chaos vibe without a little blood, after all.”

You snort, shaking your head at his ridiculousness. “You’re such a punk.”

“And you’re my..darling.” he retorts, the wicked glint in his eyes making you blush. “Just think of it this way: We’re the perfect match. You’re the ticking time bomb in frills and lace, and I’m the charming devil.”

The juxtaposition of your two styles feels almost poetic in its absurdity. Your layered fishnet stockings peek out from beneath your frayed mini skirt, adorned with silver hardware and mismatched patches that tell stories of their own. Each piece of clothing is a reflection of your inner turmoil, each stitch a reminder of the battles fought and the scars worn like badges.

“Do you really think I’m cute like this?” you ask, vulnerability creeping into your voice. It’s not something you often share, and you can’t help but feel a rush of warmth at the way he’s studying you.

“Absolutely,” he replies, his tone suddenly serious. “You’re beautiful, even with..."

The soft fabric of your oversized T-shirt brushes against Ronin’s arm, the pastel pink covered in faint rips and band logos, a perfect reflection of your chaotic style. The high-waisted black skirt, shorts you wear flares slightly as you shift, the hem adorned with delicate lace that clashes and complements your chaotic aesthetic all at once.

You roll your eyes, the playful banter bringing a flicker of warmth to your cheeks. “Shut up. At least I’m not wearing a beanie indoors.”

“Hey, this beanie is a fashion statement,” he replies, his tone dripping with mock indignation as he pats the plum-colored fabric atop his head. “It keeps the artistic vibes alive, you know?”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you glance down at your outfit. The contrast of your clothes—delicate ruffles and lace with a touch of punk rock—makes you feel both fierce and fragile, just like your mind. The jirai kei aesthetic reflects you.. it's just your style..

“See? You’re practically a walking art piece.” Ronin shifts slightly, cradling you tighter against him, his thumb tracing the edge of your lace-trimmed collar. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to have a person like you on their arm?”

You huff, your expression softening despite your best efforts. “Just because I wear ruffles doesn’t mean I’m not capable of causing chaos.”

“I know,” he whispers, his voice low, and suddenly serious. “That’s what I love about you. You’re a contradiction, and it’s beautiful.”

His sincerity catches you off guard. You want to protest, to throw his words back at him, but instead, you find yourself melting further into his embrace. You can feel the tension in your body start to dissolve, even as the swirling storm in your mind rages on.

“Do you remember the first time I saw you in a stupid call?” Ronin continues, a playful lilt returning to his voice. “You were wearing that black and white striped shirt with a collar—adorable, and yet I could tell there was something simmering underneath.”

“Yeah, and you wouldn’t stop staring at me..I think?" you shoot back, trying to redirect the conversation, but the warmth in your chest only grows.

“It was the combination of the pastel colors,” he says, pretending to think deeply. “You looked like a cute little time bomb, just waiting to go off.”

Your cheeks flush again, and you fight the urge to bury your face in his chest. “Stop it.”

“Nope,” he says with a playful grin. “I’ll never stop. You’re like a little —adorable on the outside, and then boom!” He gestures dramatically, hands exploding outward as if reenacting your metaphorical detonation.

You can’t help but laugh, even though a part of you is still tense, a storm cloud brewing in the background. “I am not like that! I mean it's we....”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he replies, his tone teasing yet tender, “you definitely are. But that just makes me want to be around you more. I’ll be here when you go off. I’m not going anywhere.”

You shift your weight slightly, the hem of your clothing brushing against his jeans. “You might want to reconsider that.”

“Never. I’m addicted to your chaos.” He smirks, running a finger along the edge of your lace. “And besides, I think you need a little devilish distraction in your life.”

“Distraction?” you echo, raising an eyebrow. “Or danger?”

“Both. It’s a package deal,” he winks, the devil-may-care attitude shining through. “And trust me, with your flair for the dramatic and my penchant for chaos, we’ll create our own beautiful mess.”

You breathe in deeply, the tension slowly ebbing away as you absorb his playful confidence. The combination of your styles—his dark punk vibes and your jirai kei flair—creates a unique blend that feels so distinctly you.

“I guess I’m lucky to have you around to catch me when I explode,” you say, a soft smile breaking through the storm clouds in your mind.

“You bet,” he replies, his grin wide and mischievous. “But don’t think for a second I won’t enjoy the explosion, darling. I thrive in the chaos; I’ve told you before.”

You shake your head in disbelief, unable to suppress a giggle, “You’re incorrigible.”

“True, but you love it.” He pulls you closer, the warmth of his body wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

You shift slightly in Ronin’s embrace, the soft couch enveloping you like a cocoon, but the clock on the wall catches your eye. It’s getting late, and a wave of anxiety washes over you. “I really should head home,” you say reluctantly, glancing towards the door.

“Why?” He looks at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’ve already made a mess of my heart, darling. You think I’ll let you just waltz out of here?”

You can’t help but laugh softly, the weight of your worries lightening for a moment. “I don’t want to disturb you, Ronin. I mean, you probably have… things to do.”

“Things to do?” He quirks an eyebrow, feigning incredulity. “What could possibly be more interesting than this?” He gestures dramatically around the room as if it’s a grand stage, but the intensity in his gaze is undeniable. “Just stay. I promise I won’t bite—much.”

You feel a flutter of excitement mixed with anxiety. “I don’t know. It’s late…”

“Please?” he adds, his voice lowering, taking on a soft, coaxing tone that makes your heart race. “Just stay a little longer. What’s the harm in that?”

Your resolve wavers, and you can feel the familiar tug of his devilish charm pulling you closer. “I really should…” you start, but he interrupts, playfully pushing you down on the couch. You can’t help but gasp as he pins you gently against the cushions, his body hovering over yours.

“What was that about going home?” he whispers, his face inches from yours, the warmth radiating from him sending shivers down your spine. Before you can respond, he leans in and kisses you, his lips brushing against yours with a teasing softness.

“Stay,” he murmurs against your mouth, kissing you again, deeper this time, his fingers tangling in your hair as if anchoring you to this moment.

You melt into him, the taste of him overwhelming your senses—spicy and sweet, the essence of him intoxicating. His kisses are fervent, almost desperate, as if he’s trying to convey everything he feels without words.

You push against him slightly, your thoughts a chaotic swirl, but the way he holds you tight makes it hard to think straight. “Ronin…” you whisper, but he kisses you again, silencing your protests.

In that moment, nothing else matters. Your worries slip away, replaced by the warmth of his body and the intensity of his gaze. You pull him closer, surrendering to the need building inside you. His kisses become a frantic melody, a rhythm that drowns out your thoughts and worries.

You realize you’ve given up the argument, leaning into him, the hesitation fading away. This is where you want to be—lost in the chaos, the devilish embrace of someone who understands your darkness. No words are needed; the warmth of his kisses speaks volumes, each one whispering a promise of what could be.

Ronin’s hold on you tightens, a possessive gesture that makes your heart race even faster. He can be so devilish, and yet, here in this moment, everything feels just right.

[rottenpumpkin13]

Sephiroth, Genesis, Angeal, and Zack take Wired’s Most Searched for Questions interview

How does it go?

Sephiroth

Is Sephiroth evil?

Sephiroth: Not yet.

Is Sephiroth gay?

*Sephiroth stares blankly at the camera with his mouth parted open*

Is Sephiroth left-handed?

Sephiroth: I'm ambidextrous, though I prefer using my left hand to write, eat and maneuver a sword.

Is Sephiroth part cat?

Sephiroth: Perhaps I would be happier if I were.

Why is Sephiroth shirtless?

Sephiroth: An excellent question.

Why is Sephiroth so attractive?

Sephiroth: I seem to have inherited my looks from my mother. She was very beautiful.

Where are Sephiroth's parents?

Sephiroth: Ah. I've tried looking this question up. It's ineffective and provides no answers.

Why does Sephiroth hate Genesis?

Sephiroth: That's absurd. I like Genesis very much. He's my best friend. He's a special person to me. If I were asked who my vest friend is, I would have to say Genesis.

Who is Sephiroth's best friend?

Sephiroth: Angeal! He's very dear to me. We have a good relationship and there is no one in the world who I like more than him.

Why does Sephiroth like pasta?

Sephiroth: I feel complete and whole when I eat it. I assume that's what being loved feels like.

Why is Sephiroth's hair long?

Sephiroth: Because it's not short.

Genesis

How old is Genesis?

Genesis: How dare you insinuate that I'm old.

Is Genesis gay?

Genesis: Hm. About 50%, sometimes it's 75%. It depends on the day and my mood.

Is Genesis shorter than Sephiroth?

Genesis, through gritted teeth. I am.

Why does Genesis like red?

Genesis: It's the most vibrant, eye-catching, attractive color of the rainbow. Like me.

Why does Genesis dye his hair red?

Genesis: Lies and falsehoods.

Why is Genesis obsessed with Loveless?

Genesis: And I'm expected to answer with one sentence? I need an hour at least to accurately describe how much it means to me.

Why is Genesis called Genesis?

Genesis: I'm sure Dr. Hollander was trying to be poetic.

Why is Genesis annoying?

Genesis: WHAT?

Why is Genesis shorter than Sephiroth?

Genesis: WHY DO YOU MEAN "WHY?"

Why does Genesis say his hair is red when it's brown?

Genesis: THAT'S IT. I'M LEAVING. SCREW THIS.

Angeal

Is Angeal related to Zack?

Angeal: Not blood related, but he's like my little brother. Don't tell him I said that though. He'll cry and hug me and then I'll be covered in Zack snot.

Is Angeal dating Sephiroth and Genesis?

Angeal: Simultaneously?? Dating one would be a nightmare on its own.

Why is Angeal so attractive?

*Angeal stares up at the camera blankly, blushing profusely*

Is Angeal single?

Angeal: Uhh...yeah.

Does Angeal have a girlfriend?

Angeal: No, I don't.

Why is Angeal single?

Angeal: Who's writing these? My mom??

Is Angeal dead?

Angeal: Only on the inside.

Is Angeal stronger than Sephiroth?

Angeal: I'm not sure. I can sit on him and he starts flailing and struggling though. That's very funny.

Is Angeal older than Sephiroth and Genesis?

Angeal: Believe it or not, I'm the middle child.

Does Angeal kill plants?

Angeal, tearing up: I—...No? Once...It was a sunflower. There's barely any sun in Midgard.... I learned that the hard way.

Zack

Is Zack alive?

Zack: Yeah I am! *finger guns*

Is Zack stronger than Sephiroth?

Zack: Not yet.

Why is Zack popular?

Zack: Uhhh.... because I'm a nice guy? At least I hope I am! I like to make friends, so maybe that's why.

Why is Zack called a puppy?

Zack: Because Angeal thought he was funny when he compared me to a puppy, so now the nickname stuck. I don't mind though! Although it'd be cool if I had a badass nickname like wolf. Or snake!

Why does Zack do squats?

Zack: Because it's fun! Plus, it's a great exercise. It strengthens your core and leg muscles. .....I also have a lot of energy and don't like being still for too long. It stresses me out.

Why is Zack so adorable?

Zack: Aww! Am I? That's just my natural charm.

Does Zack have ADHD?

Zack: The TV in my room is HD, yeah.

[weirdworldofwinnie]

Oasis in a Desperate Land of Dark Desire - Part One: Arrival

Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Wife Reader, NSFW 18+ only

Summary: You are married to the man in charge of the Manhattan Project himself, Dr. Robert Oppenheimer, and it's your first day (and night) at Los Alamos where tension and unspoken worry is getting high, but he finds time to show you how love can be an oasis in what seems like a rather barren land.

Word Count: ~7, 213

Warnings: Age gap (reader is mid-20s and he is almost 40, and they have been married for a couple years), period stereotypical gender roles (maybe sexism?), unprotected + oral sex, mention of miscarriage, and strong hints at infidelity

Disclaimer: Obviously NOT completely historically or scientifically accurate to real life and is inspired by the film with Cillian Murphy's portrayal of Oppenheimer. There are definitely mentions of Katherine and Jean Tatlock as lovers in this, but he does not have any children with Kitty and is not physically with either of them presently. I also want to clarify that this (while researched) is still just my interpretation with AU elements added in, and it isn't supposed to be in total support and reflection of the real man's life/personality. Scroll away and DNI if you are uncomfortable or take issue with this story; it is primarily for entertainment purposes only and it is just fantasy/fiction!

April 1943

The ride en route to the secluded destination christened as "Los Alamos" was long, hot, and bumpy through the New Mexico desert on a single primitive dirt road with the sun beating down on the windshield, glaring into your eyes and reflecting off the expensive dainty golden watch wrapped around your wrist that had been last year's anniversary present, and the jostling motion of the car made your breasts jiggle up and down slightly, reminding you that you'd been in such a hurry to leave with Robert this morning you'd regrettably forgone putting on a bra. He glanced over to you now, his porkpie hat shadowing the serious and contemplative expression that he had been wearing as a regular look for weeks now... Finally this plan was coming to fruition, but at what cost? It was the government's money and the scientists who were on the line. Robert let you know more details than most out of his non-physics inner circle because he trusted you to keep your lips sealed, but he never gave specifics about what exactly the coined Manhattan Project, or Project Y, was for in terms of a mission yet because it was national security level secret, however it didn't take a genius to figure out it was incredibly important and the development of something dangerous... Too dangerous to keep in a campus laboratory at Berkeley.

As the car approached the main gate and passed by the checkpoint, you realized just now fairly remote this barbed-wire location was and it made a small sinkhole crater in your stomach. But Robert knew this land from his youth and you partly did too, for he owned ranchland here and you both had spent many hours in the last couple years roaming on horseback and on foot into the twilight hours of the day, feeling the chill of the evening breeze and the rustle of shrubbery as the sun dipped down below the horizon and plum light bathed the landscape, bouncing off the backdrop of mountains and reaching deep into the canyons. You recalled fondly one time in particular during the early stages of being courted by him... It was technically only the second date and he had mistakenly trusted you with a horse, even though you were hardly an experienced rider, and of course it had gone ballistic and attempted to buck you off as you held on for dear life to the stiff dark brown leather saddle.

"Woah... Woah! Easy, easy," Robert had called out, grabbing a hold of the bridle and patting the stallion on the neck as you gasped and he kicked his hooves, thrashing the dirt and missing Robert's cowboy boots by inches.

"This one can be a bit rowdy, sometimes the wild never quite gets bred out, and he's not used to you," he explained simply over your panicked cries as he kept patting and verbally calming the animal down.

"But what did I do wrong? I swear, he dislikes me tremendously!" you exclaimed in shock and Robert only shook his head.

"Then he has very poor taste in women if he rejects you," he had joked and you went sliding off the horse's back to where Robert caught you, easing you to the ground gently.

"Are you alright?" he asked, eyes alight with a mischievous concern, but you merely brushed your pants off and smoothed your blouse, shaking the experience off.

"Of course I am. Now are we riding or not?"

He smiled at your confidence, but had hoisted you up onto his horse instead, straddling you from behind so you were facing front and clutching onto the reins. His arms loped around your waist and the horse began to trot, bouncing both you and him in a steady up and down motion, and you flicked the reins, causing the horse to take off into the expansive landscape and Robert let out a joyous whoop as the pace transitioned into a gregarious cantering gallop and the wind whipped your hair around like a battered Old Glory flag in a storm.

"This is too fast!" you had yelled out, but he only laughed, tightening his hold into a squeeze around you and spoke into your ear with a low murmur which instinctively made the goosebumps flare up on your neck.

"I wouldn't let you go even if that horse went mad and flew us off the ground over into a ravine to our deaths."

A little more than six months later after that frivolous adventure, he had dropped to his knee in that very desert and proposed to you, a diamond engagement ring encased in a black box in his palms and you were startled, taken aback at the promptness and faintly aware he was actively seeing at least one other woman at the time, but he had claimed he called it off with her a week ago.

You had cautiously accepted, knowing he was far from a wholesome man, but he was certainly one in a billion and you had unapologetically been with him ever since, even though some friends and extended relatives had openly judged, thinking you were only climbing up a social status ladder by doing so, and a couple of your more left-leaning girlfriends thought you were foolish to already settle for a man at your young age, but you truly loved him. Romance was rather odd; so rushed it could be and yet you felt comfortable around him as if you had known each other for life; soulmates, perhaps, if there ever was such a notion.

The wedding ceremony had been lavish enough to make you feel special, but it had been a more low-key event with only a small group of the closest friends and family in attendance, for he did not want much pomp and circumstance and you had spent the honeymoon at his secluded New Mexico ranch property, bizarrely a sort of prelude to where you both were ending up now. The phone hadn't stopped ringing for the past few weeks and since this work was taking up presidency, it was truth to be told that you hadn't really had time for each other and had been distant these past couple months as he diverted all his focus and intellect to the government and you hoped that after all this preparation, everything would settle somewhat now that he was at the ground level site. You felt trepidation but also excitement because this venture felt relevant and Robert was in his element with the company of like minded individuals all working towards a common goal. His vocation in teaching what he already knew of upper level physics had been boring him lately and he had told you multiple times he was haunted by the pressing need to be essential to the war effort outside of the confines of a classroom; he and his students had to make a real impact and change to the world, to this damned war. And if Robert wasn't the most ambitious, motivated, self-driven intelligent human being you'd ever met, then you'd be stumped to know who was right for the job; he could be dangerously dogged and was as loyal to this country as roots were to their corresponding corn stalks.

And now, starting today, he was the one man scientific director, a ruler really, of this militarized oasis in the middle of, well, nowhere.

Fractions of the place were still in progress, as evident by the trucks and the hammering with the occasional man lumbering past hauling construction boards on his shoulders. The Oppenheimers were still early in arrival, but everyone else on the project was supposed to be settled in by the end of the week. The house you and your husband were to live at was much better off than the cookie-cutter houses hastily put up suburban style along the man-made streets and it was tucked furthest away from the epicenter of town; a large spacious log and stone cabin (that had been formerly a boys' school) ranch style home surrounded by pine trees and shrubs along with a decent yard with that seemed ripe for cultivating a garden, and yet the home was modest and not overly luxurious; this was no vacation.

"The kitchen isn't finished?" you asked in surprise at once upon entry inside and Robert sighed, knowing you how much you had a penchant for cooking and he also knew that hosting gatherings here was going to be essential.

"I'll make sure they get it complete by the end of the week," he assured, resting a hand on the small of your back as you dropped down the luggage on the floor.

"Well, it is rather nice otherwise," you admitted, turning to him and smiling, but he couldn't quite return the gesture.

"Robert, what's the matter?" You reached to cup his cheek and he leaned into your touch before lifting up his own hand and placing it atop the one plastered to his face.

"I'm frankly worried how this is all going to work, how soon we can accomplish what we need to do. The death toll in Germany grows by the day, it may already be too late and..."

You placed a hand to his lips, shushing him with sadness.

"Please, shh, I'll have none of that talk when we just arrived in our new house. We are here now and that is the most important first step that matters towards any kind of accomplishment to your saving the world from this hellish war."

"I need to go do some oversight on the operations in town and at the laboratory," he announced abruptly, stepping back from your touch and picking up his briefcase as you nodded, moving with him to the front door.

"I'll see you tonight then. I think I'll make deviled chicken with a creamy coleslaw."

"I'm sure it will be delicious." He gave a tight smile and it was a somewhat ironic statement coming from the man who ate less than a thousand calories a day. That was one frustrating aspect about him that you had discovered when you had moved in with him back in California and realized he never had regular meals, and lately drinks and cigarettes were his main fuel. You hoped one of these days your passion for food would finally rub off on his aversion, but it probably wouldn't happen here with the increased supply rationing.

He disappeared out the door with his hat and you stood for awhile, taking in this new environment inside the main part of the house with its interesting architecture of high beamed ceilings and picture windows that allowed ample amounts of natural light at almost all hours. You spent most of the day unpacking and organizing, briefly going out to greet and visit with the other wives of top scientists, some you already knew, but others you had not met until today and you noticed that one of those you weren't familiar with was visibly pregnant... She was even younger than you and seeing her led you to wonder how quickly this little manufactured desert town was going to see a population boom in the next few years. Robert had brought up the concept of having children with you on more than one occasion, since you had already gone through one miscarriage (only in your first trimester and you never knew the sex of it, the doctor told you it could have been worse if you had carried to full term and lost the infant at birth, but it was still a gutting loss... Although you knew Robert was privately relieved, especially now since his work would likely leave no room in his heart to father an innocent, demanding child and all the burden would go to you alone) and there was the fact of possible infertility. The hardship of procreation probably ran in the family... Your mother had also miscarried, then had your premature brother who caught polio at two years old and perished weeks later, and then she herself had died during your own childbirth, leaving your father devastated and alone to care for you. You had a complicated, strained relationship early on with him and you wondered perhaps Freud was loosely right about the Oedipus complex since you always had such strong attractions to older men... but at least your father always tried to give you the best possible life he had with his wealth, which led you to moving out from your childhood home in New York across the country to pursue attending college in California in the field of psychology and medicine. You had been in the process of getting a degree in nursing, at least until Robert altered your life by his own ambitions and you had been forced to drop your studies temporarily to move out here with him, but you planned to be studying some by correspondence if the government allowed and also to be able to help out in the small hospital on site for an occupation.

To trim the excess fat off a long story short, it had been a bizarre fluke that you met and promptly fell in love with Robert... you were introduced on campus by friends who also knew Jean Tatlock, a budding psychiatrist and proudly Communist, and he had happened to take a bright shine to you. You considered him unattainable at first, a very well respected brilliant physics teacher with more life experience than you could have dreamed of... He was otherworldly at times, yet found grounding earth in your presence, but it would mystify you what exactly he found so desirable in you. You were as lovely as any other woman your age and smart, but you never thought of yourself as outstandingly intelligent when compared to the people he taught in academia, and not absolutely drop dead gorgeous in terms of prize worthy beauty. Perhaps the attraction, like Robert's scientific passion, was on a molecular scale and only bonded by invisible atoms making the illusion of being a solid relationship. Maybe it was as basic as the fact that you two were mutually compatible with each other and respectable of any differences, unlike his other fiery messy relationships with Jean and Katherine. Would you having a baby split that all apart? Personally, you weren't sure you were ready for any offspring yet and to be thrown into motherhood when you were still navigating having a successful marriage and you highly doubted "The Hill" (as the residents here were calling it) would be a healthy environment for children to thrive in, despite the efforts for a school and daycare, seeing that there were armed uniforms milling about all hours of the day and silent stress was already pervasive in every look, cough, and casual conversation you noticed through passing by. And it was only day one of, as Robert predicated, two to three years of hard work swathed in isolated secrecy.

As daylight began to fade fast and inevitably hand itself over to the darkness, you went back to the house to fry up the chicken. The stove was effective, although one burner seemed a little on the fritz, but half of the cabinetry was unfinished and the counter space was minimal.

Laying out the cream-colored napkins and the finest china you had brought packed securely in a box, you delicately set the table. Despite not having a birth mother to guide you through womanhood, you took to home keeping fairly well and religiously read the magazines, believing being married to an upper class man meant all these details and roles. But privately you also felt the crushing pressure and caught yourself wondering if you were immature to be in this mold. Robert never told you otherwise though and he would theoretically be the last man to stamp out a woman's sense of inner individuality, but you couldn't ignore the fact you, while willingly, still had to sideline your educational and career priorities to come support and live here with your husband. But it didn't matter too much, for you knew in your heart you could follow this man to the ends of the earth if you so desired.

For good ambient measure, you lit two pillar candles in the center of the tablecloth and just as you laid the food on a plate, you heard the front door crack open and the soft clomping of shoes.

Robert would never be the 'Honey, I'm home!' type of husband, yet he always managed to make an entrance regardless, especially now. His slender frame leaned into the doorway, hands crumpling his hat in front of his crotch and the candlelight flashed harrowing ghoulish shadows across his sharp cheekbones and dull pinkish lips.

"Well, what do you think?" you proposed, gesturing to the table spread when he didn't speak. He only gazed at your feminine features, his eyes full of desire that wasn't for the dinner you made, and when his mouth finally parted, he spoke in a husky voice, slowly coming closer and abandoning his hat to a chair, closing in on you.

"I'm sure it is very palatable, but I fear my hunger cannot be fulfilled by only earthly consumption," he confessed, ducking to kiss your cheek and moving his hands up to your neck, caressing your nape and moving his mouth to your lips, but you gently pushed him away, pressing into the fabric of his gray suit jacket.

"We should wait until after dinner," you told him earnestly, knowing what he wanted instead.

"Dessert, then?" he murmured, coming close again despite your light physical resistance and thumbing your bottom lip. You smiled and his arm snaked under your skirt and between your thighs, hand crawling upward to your panties and you breathed in, changing your mind.

"Maybe I can wait to eat after all."

His breath caught, a single finger inches from hitting your covered vaginal area, before he removed his teasing hand and pulled back, gripping your shoulders with conviction.

"Eat. You deserve it and you worked hard on preparing it, I can observe."

He bent down, gentlemanly drawing out a chair for you to sit down in, which you did, letting his hands linger at the neckline of your blouse before he walked around to the other side of the small round table and took a seat, rummaging out a cigarette from the pack in his shirt pocket and striking it up with his lighter, the smoke wafting in wispy trails around his head. You took a careful first bite, relishing in the flavor and spices (paprika in particular) as he sat there across from you, relaxing back in his chair and taking a drag on the cigarette, puffing out a sigh. You smirked, swallowing a forkful as he kept his gaze steady on you.

"You're making me self conscious, just sitting there surveying my appetite," you told him and he grinned, fiddling with the cigarette.

"I enjoy watching you eat. You are the very essence of life I see lacking in so much of this world."

You blushed in the warm glow of the candlelight, remaining humble.

"That is quite a compliment I don't know if I'm quite worthy of."

"You are, no jury would contradict me." He nodded sincerely as he smoked and you ate in silence for a few minutes before he then finally gave his cigarette a rest and poked at his food, politely taking a few bites of hot chicken and chewing at a snail's pace.

"How did today go?" you tentatively asked, finishing off your own chicken and moving to the rich, crunchy coleslaw.

"We will be making progress. Although I will always say, that General Groves is the most obstinate man with the exact deposition one would expect from a bulldog," he answered with a touch of bitter amusement.

"Should you be saying that? They're... not listening, are they?" you asked in a hushed paranoid voice, glancing around the room and knowing that the phone lines were tapped for sure, but you weren't certain they would go as far to place bugging devices hidden in the house.

"Relax, I could say much worse," Robert admitted nonchalantly with a harmless shrug and you allowed yourself a chuckle, mentally picturing a bulldog in a General's uniform. You took a bite of cabbage, changing the conversation to your side of social contacts in this limited town.

"I met with our neighbors and the other ladies today. They seem cordial and we have already exchanged pleasantries and plans for a party next weekend. I also offered to babysit one mother's two rambunctious little boys and spoke to the doctor at the medical facility about assistance there."

Robert nodded, gesturing with his empty fork.

"Keeping busy I see, but I'll have to arrange to let you in the office sometime instead of spending your days cooped up here and at the neighbors. I missed you and your insight already today."

"But you know I am not privy to everything you and your scientists are doing here..." you started to protest before he cut you off.

"I'm well aware, but I doubt a visit to my own office will cause a security uproar. You are my wife, Y/N. The reason most of the scientists came to Los Alamos in the first place was not solely the work, but because they could bring their wives, their families. We do our best work with moral and... sexual support." He raised his eyebrows and you felt a tingle run through you, a yearning for exactly what he was suggesting, but you had to finish the meal first.

Once you cleared most of your plate, he surprised you by taking the dishes and quickly rinsing the plates in the sink before making and pouring out his signature martinis. You knew Robert must be silently stressed however, for he only took one sip of his drink before he moved outside under the roof awning with his tobacco pipe, settling down on a folding chair and gazing out at the landscape and listening to the low mumble of military personnel mingling about on patrol as though this were a prison (which it was).

You joined him with a cigarette a few minutes later (you had never smoked a single cigarette until you married Robert and unconsciously adopted the habit, but you weren't much of a smoker when it made you cough, yet you kind of enjoyed the nicotine having that convenient effect of temporarily soothing your nerves) and positioned yourself down next to him, letting the cigarette dangle from your lips while folding your hands neatly on your knees.

His eyelids were appearing heavy and his head drooped, chin tucking down. You gave him a bumping nudge and he looked over at you, teeth clamped down on his pipe.

"Tired?" you wondered and he gave a noncommittal grunt, fixing his eyes back straight ahead. You noticed how still he was - calm - and it was a welcome change from the past few weeks where he had been wound up, constantly on the phone at one point or another and gone for many hours in meetings. But now that nearly everyone was all here, it was almost too tranquil... giving the illusion of calm before potential chaos.

"Oppie!" a young man's voice suddenly called out and he came jogging into view on the rock slabbed pathway, halting slightly when he saw you.

"Oh, good evening Ma'am," he greeted courteously with a squinted smile. You smiled in turn, nodding, and he focused to Robert, who gave a tilt of his pipe in acknowledgement and stood up stiffly.

"Any news I should know about, Feynman?"

The man paused, glancing to you warily.

"Is it about the nature of our work?" Robert asked sharply and Feynman shook his head.

"No, sir, it is not pertaining to that."

"Well, whatever it is you can say in front of my wife and I then."

"It's just a communicative matter. There was a phone call from a young woman asking for you earlier that was flagged in the office for personal matters concerning security. Groves is in a fit and I was to inform you tomorrow, but I thought I'd give fair warning and-"

"Then I will address it tomorrow," Robert interrupted and without further word, took your arm and marched you back inside the house. You shook off his touch and shut the door hard, spinning to address him.

"What the hell was that about?"

He closed his eyes and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing his forehead while exhaling.

"There are intimate ghosts that continue to haunt me," he answered cryptically, taking refuge in the lounge and sipping his martini, but you had a hunch however who was the "ghost" because you knew her and you pointed a finger sternly at him.

"This is about Jean, isn't it? How does she even know to contact this location? And I thought you were all done with her, as you are with that Katherine!"

"I am, I swear to it. But she is different than any other woman I have been with before you, though. She can be... unstable and she may need to hear from me."

"She just wants your sex, that's all!"

"It's more complicated than that."

"You had nights with her while you were having nights with me during courting, I heard about it from our friends. It was still the sex that was the driving factor that she desired from you."

He looked down, unable to deny that entirely and you backed away, shaking your head.

"I can't believe this, the first day here and you can't shake those Communist ties trailing us."

"May I remind you that you considered fully joining once upon a time in the not so distant past? We met at such a social function, remember?"

You bit your lip and refused to meet his wide eyes staring a hole into you, for this was very well true.

"I did, but I overcame it. It's ridiculous to devote one's energy to an ideology and not to concrete, practical solutions. I was never devoted and absolutely do not consider myself a member. I never was."

This made Robert scowl, setting his glass down with a clink.

"It is my opinion that you should be free to choose your dogmas, if you want any at all that is. Belief is voluntary, but it shouldn't be a crime; we all deserve our wiggle room."

"Is that what she told you too?"

He licked his lips, stepping close so you were involuntarily arrested by his blue eyes boring into yours and his hand slid up your arm, finding your shoulder and the bra strap peeking out from the neckline of the blouse.

"I see you put one on," he muttered and you blinked, almost forgetting about that little detail and refusing to be seduced by his perceptivity.

"Yes, I did. My breasts are still sore from that uncomfortable car ride."

"It's a shame they are so contained now," he whispered, beginning to undo the buttons on the blouse and push his fingers into the crevice between your breasts, but you weren't quite having it after the unresolved discussion and the way he had been moments before.

"We are going to do this now? After what I just accused? And besides, I thought you were too preoccupied and planning to sit out there half the night smoking away by your lonesome while I go to bed."

"You make nights worth bearing awake, especially tonight." He shifted, groping at your breasts and you stumbled back into the wall, breathing in shallow gasps. He put a finger to his lips conspiratorially and hugged your body with his own, speaking discreetly.

"We should be quiet to not disturb any nearby neighbors."

"They can't hear us and besides, I'm sick of piping down," you whined, remembering the date nights out in the desert where he'd lay out a picnic blanket and fuck you right then and there with the horses grazing several feet away and the canopy of stars winking overhead. You'd make as much noise as merited, probably confusing the yipping coyotes far off in the distance.

"I think we can try to control our auditory impulses for one night," Robert whispered, hands going to your waist and tugging at your skirt.

"The bedroom," you gasped, rushing away from him and down the narrow hallway, twisting around as he chased you with a huff.

"Where is it?" you asked anxiously, opening a couple doors and unfamiliar to this section of the house in the minimal lighting, when he suddenly pushed you from behind into an empty room with a single large king bed.

"Only the best for us," he told you and you fell forwards onto it, kicking your heels off and quickly flipping around to your back as he loosened his tie, casting it off to the floor and unbuttoning his white shirt as you sat up, reaching needily for his belt buckle and he leaned over onto you now shirtless and when he met your lips in a frantic kiss, you then noticed the prudent stench of sweat on his skin that was disrupting his usual familiar smoky flavor mixed with cologne and aftershave.

"Wait," you ordered, pressing a hand up on his collarbone.

"What is it?" he implored worriedly, searching your expression for the solution.

"Bath, you should bathe. It's been a few days and this heat isn't helping. Hasn't anyone told you that you reek like a dog?"

He groaned mournfully, leaning back and unfastening the belt, tossing it to the floor with a clunk of metal.

"You won't let me have you until I do?" he asked sadly, but you had an idea.

"What if I join you?"

His eyes sparked at this notion and you moved off the bed, finding the bathroom across the hall. This house was one of only a few equipped with tubs instead of showers; they didn't call this street "Bathtub Row" for nothing.

Robert finished undressing in front of you, tugging down his trousers and boxers, springing forth an already ready penis.

"You're going to make me work for it tonight, aren't you?" he asked as he stepped into the large basin, turning on the faucet and letting out a gasp when a strong stream of water blasted onto his bare feet.

"J-Jesus Christ, it's freezing!" he exclaimed loudly with a sputter and frantically slamming a hand on the knob as you laughed from your spot by the sink, taking out your earrings and slipping off your small wristwatch.

"Get in, I was warned about the water supply around here possibly being fickle, even for us," he commanded as you finagled your skirt and blouse off with your bra and panties discarded to the bathroom floor before taking a leg over the tub and stepping in to sit down across from him, letting the tub fill up one third of the way as a sitz bath before awkwardly reaching around him to grab the bar of ivory soap from the dish and began to rub into his back with it.

"I should've put in a request for an even larger bath," he complained as you scrunched up your legs against his and scrubbed dutifully into the folds of his skin.

"It'll do fine, darling."

He took the soap and you both took turns lathering each other up, making frothy circles with the creamy soap and rinsing, the water streaming down into the tub again, flooding both yours and his soapy complexion, washing it all off down the drain before having it fill up again, this time three quarters of the way. The water now pleasantly lukewarm, Robert contorted his body to submerge his head under the waterline and he came up with a loud splash, his wiry dark hair flattening to a wet mess on his forehead as your own dampened and you watched the droplets of water collect on his somewhat pallid skin. He scooted closer, entangling legs, and couldn't resist a quick dart of a finger down to your vagina and you whimpered as he touched your clitoris, inserting into you and making you arch your back and buck your hips when he inserted another finger, exploring around your wet velvety walls.

"God, Robert..." you moaned, digging your nails into the grooves of his skin and up to his head, feeling the cropped soaked scalp and neck. He suddenly lightly shoved you against the side of the tub, pressing his mouth to yours and naturally winding his tongue in, kissing you passionately until the water temperature grew too cold and you shivered, glued to his body and burying your face into his wet shoulder.

"That was merely the first act, sweetheart," he whispered and you smiled, leaning back a few inches so he could get up and step out onto the bath mat, taking your hand as he did so to pull you up and guide you out. Robert grabbed a large towel from the rack and wound it around the both of you, letting his genitals press up against yours and you both stood there for a while, listening to the steady drip-drop-drip-drop-drip-drop of falling water to the flooring.

"I'm surprised you've held off this long," you murmured, feeling his rising erection in between your thighs.

"I truly can't wait any longer," he admitted urgently and the towel dropped with a flump to the floor, and with bodies still slick with water, you and him exited the bathroom to fumble to the bedroom and the blue light from the window illuminated the sheets, the ideal love making spot. He let you collapse on your back and easily came down on top, gripping the back of your neck and already plunging in to align, but you squirmed in dissatisfaction.

"So soon?" you whined, wanting to play with and taste him first, but he was antsy to get to the pinnacle.

"Your virtuous patience should be framed and put on the walls of this house, along with your divine beauty," he whispered, head moving down to your breasts and you dug your fingers into his bare back, running along the bones of his more pronounced spine.

"C'mon, Oppie, let's do this the fun way... Give it to me," you begged and he cringed slightly, but rolled over onto his side and you immediately found his stiff penis with your hands, clenching around it firmly and stroking. He moaned softly and it flexed in your grasp... He could be a decent size when engaged, which was impressive for his underweight body.

"But don't you dare let me go without seeding you inside," he warned as though you had all the control.

"That's the plan."

Wordlessly, you positioned yourself down to the head of his cock and licked off his pre-cum, the recognizable taste milky on your tongue and you sucked, bringing it halfway in and fondling his balls lovingly in the meantime. He was breathing heavily and you didn't linger long at his member however because you could tell he was getting very close and neither you nor him wanted him to release anywhere other than the intended internal target. Pulling out and licking your lips, you repositioned your body on top of his and sank down flat to his chest, and he thrusted his hips up to meet you, heaving in with a grunt. You winced at the initial entry; you were always so sensitive down there (especially since the miscarriage), and he steadily kept at it, probing in further without being too rough.

"Fuck..." you breathed with a cry and he came forward to smooch your cheek as you mounted your hands on his shoulders and he pumped in and out, shaking the entire bed.

"That's exactly what I'm doing, my love," he breathed, keeping an intense gaze trained on you.

"Robert..." you groaned, letting him push as far as he could go until the pleasure was overloading and you felt his hot wet spurt of cum hit, eliciting a long moan from him, his slender frame shuddering beneath you. He closed his eyes and you kept a firm clench around his shaft, not ready to have him pull out yet. Gasping, you began rocking back and forth with ecstasy, your insides stretched to their limit and he seemed to know you were struggling to hold him.

"I'm coming out," he muttered and gently pulled back wetly so he wasn't balls deep in you anymore and then you repositioned to lightly ride him, which was your favorite position, and you bounced up and down on his upright full cock, orgasming a few more times as he watched your euphoria in rapture, so proud he alone could make you like this over and over until you were out of air and exhausted, collapsing to the side of the bed and feeling the sheets very damp with bodily juices.

Robert spooned you from behind, arms draped over to dangle his fingers on your swollen nipples and you matched his breathing in rhythm. Every time was somehow better than the last... Sex with him was as natural as breathing and you appreciated the consistent chemistry that you worried would have faded after a couple years of marriage due to what you'd heard about stress and boredom destroying a couple's sex drive, but Robert was not a boring person in the least sense of the term.

"We should do this every night," you offered hopefully and he chuckled.

"And make me the most lucky, tired man in this whole community? I'd be up for that, although it'll be a wonder if I get any work done at all when I've got this memory lingering with me tomorrow," he replied and you heard the smile in his tone, but with it came the bitter resurgence of the likely phone call from another woman that was bile in the back of your throat and even though he supposedly broke it off with her before you got married, you knew he had stayed in contact and you couldn't help but wonder how he fucked her and if it was comparable to what you and him had with each other, since she seemed to want him so badly. That wasn't to mention "Kitty" who he had insisted on still being "friends" with. A bit depressed and irritated, you pushed away his hands off your breasts and turned back over to face him in the dimness that made even those prominent blue colored eyes of his too muddled to see into.

"How did you become the most desired physicist to women in the whole country?" you asked softly.

"Good genes?" he guessed in amusement and you shook your head, not requiring a punchline.

"You're known to be a womanizer, neurotic, eccentric, a tad arrogant, and yet everybody seems to want you, including me as your own wife. Tell me, why did the universe give you such magnetized gifts?"

He gave a subtle lift of his shoulders with a small lazy smile as you laid your head on the pillow, fending off fatigue.

"Why was Aphrodite the one chosen to be blessed with such beauty and fertility? Why are we the way that we are? There are some matters of the human being to be unfounded in the definitive and everything is relative." He sat up with his back against the headboard and proceeded to light another cigarette and you sleepily watched the hazy smoke drift off above the bed towards the ceiling. He sighed, setting it to rest in the ashtray on the nightstand and wrap his lean arm around your body, drawing you close into his side.

"You are my goddess, Y/N. You are the only woman I want to return home too, always. Don't you know that?" he murmured into your hair and you vaguely nodded.

"I do, but I also know you're not always the most faithful man."

He lifted his hand and touched his ring finger to yours, matching the simple gold bands you both shared as two united.

"I married you out of good faith and the vows we pledged might have well been written in stone in the language of the gods along on the pulmonary arteries flowing as though a river into my heart," he told you with no trace of doubt, but you knew the whole story that didn't need flourishing.

"Only because the two other women fell through on commitment - although tonight I suspect they both presumably still want you - and one was already hitched, so she was having an affair by being with you and wouldn't divorce unless you happened to get her pregnant. I just happened to be the most available, the convenient bride with no attached strings, even though everyone said it was abnormally soon and I am too young," you recounted bitterly and he frowned, tilting your chin upward.

"Is that how you see it? I have never fallen for someone as fast and as hard as I did for you. I still feel the way I did when I laid a glimpse on you at Mary Ellen Washburn's party."

You smiled despite yourself and he bent to kiss the top of your head as you snuggled into his chest, absentmindedly fondling his moist cock with your fingers.

"I do love you beyond comprehension, Y/N," he whispered and you glanced up, meeting his look.

"I do too and I want to believe I always will, until the end of our existence. I am not those other women and I do not want to become so."

A solemn seriousness grew over him and he closed his eyes as you felt tears suddenly spike and an unexplainable terrible sense of dread came over you.

"Promise me one thing, Robert." You paused, taking a deep breath.

"Promise me that whatever happens to us in this world, in this setting, that you will always find a way home and whatever we face, we face together."

He gave a single nod, but you sensed reluctance in the way a muscle in his jaw made a minor spasm.

"I will always do my best."

"Alright," you resigned and he sighed, relaxing back and settling down into the sheets, further roping his arms around you and you burrowed your face into his chest, feeling his light hair follicles tickle your forehead. Tomorrow - and the future for that matter - was uncertain, but at least tonight was building up to a promise of solid sureness, a safeness, bonding those atoms of love again.

Love, or the feeling of it, was a lot like quantum mechanics; essentially invisible to the naked eye and complicated, but the one difference was that it was unmeasurable. No amount of numbers or equations could add up the real affection you felt for your husband, even when the waters became too choppy to be comfortable and it was far from perfect. You just had to cement the fact that you were Mrs. Oppenheimer and that wasn't going to change anytime soon, any disruptive external factors be absolutely damned to hell.

Thanks for reading, expect a little drama for chapter 2... And I do not have a full outline to every part of this fic, so please be patient as I find spare time to work on it and upload. I always appreciate any likes, reblogs, and feedback ❤️

*If anyone would be interested in being tagged, drop a comment and I'll make a tag list for the next part!*

[slightlyartist]

Ik you’re still in the process of making lore but I have have Steve - Fidds questions!

1. What is Pyramid Steve getting out of making these deals? Is he helping Bill with his Weirdmageddon stuff? Is he stealing things from his Victims other than what’s given (like slowly taking all their money and savings/their life force/whatever he uses for currency) to pay his alimony? Or is he just doing this because he likes doing HUMAN THINGS as a HUMAN MAN and it’s FUN and a BUSINESS and TOTALLY DIFFERENT from sitting around on his laptop playing the sims all day so he doesn’t need to deal with his OWN issues (like his divorce)?

2. Is he helpful with little things *at first* to make sure his ‘customers’ trust him to deal with more and more stuff? Like at first he comes to Fidds when it’s been a month since he last did laundry because he was too scared to go down to the laundry room and Steve tells him he has a Magic Product to Help with Anxiety! Then Fidds feels all floaty and calm and out of it. Next thing Fidds knows, his laundry is clean, folded and, put away, AND he even washed and redid his bedsheets! And he took a shower and is wearing fresh clothes! Wow! He just barely remembers any of it, like trying to remember a dream, but who cares! The Product is Working! Yay! And it’s a very easy slope from that to Fidds thinking “I’ve been ghosting Emma-May (who’s upset with me) for a week now and my hands shake thinking about it, I need to use Product and call her to work things out! OH NO Apparently I sounded like a weird British man trying to do a southern accent the whole conversation and now she thinks I’m taking drugs! And is MORE upset with me! I need to call her and fix things! Which I can only do with the help of Product! My life is crumbling around me.”

3. Please work the plastic bag of DvDs Steve carries around and pet centipede into this au. This isn’t a question this is a request. And the fact he eats copper wires! Does he make the humans he controls also eat Copper Wires? Does he make the humans buy or steal copper wires for him so he can eat them?

4. Uh. What do you imagine being hypnotized feels like to Fidds (the first few times before he starts going brain dead)? I’m guessing it’s not just blacking out if victims get addicted to the *feeling* of being hypnotized as well as getting addicted to the ability to step out of their life for a bit.

5. Does Fidds already being pretty into the ‘beginnings of permanent brain damage’ stage of memory gun use have any affect on Steve’s ability to hypnotize/control Fidds? Since he’s basically controlling Fidds from his laptop, the main hardware he’s running his program on being janked up could have some effect on how well Stiddlepord ‘runs’.

6. What do the ‘side effects’ of Product start to look/feel like in the victims? Like we know what the memory gun’s side effects look like in action because of that supercut of Fidds decent. And can partial brain function eventually be recovered like with the memory gun? Or is Pyramid Steve eventually just puppeting a corpse until it starts to decompose?

7. Uhhhhh. Can I write fanfiction. Of this au.

Anyway this ask is way too long, I know, but if I write fanfiction on this I want it to be lore accurate and not just my own thing, and it’s such a cool au!!! I crave more!! More of the unstable divorced man ‘possessing’ the other unstable divorced man!! Amazing!!

HELLO HELLO! Thank you for being so interested in this silly AU!! Okay I'm going to sit down and properly think about all of this!

Fun fact! If Ford refers Bill as My Muse, Fidds refers Steve as My Elixir ;)

What is Pyramid Steve getting out of making these deals?

As opposed to Bill and his love for physical pain, Steve craves mental and emotional misery. Like a parasite feeding off the psychological pain they are experiencing, that's why his aim is to ruin their lives even more, kicking his customers when they are already down.

Bill and Steve are not allies. In fact Bill HATES Steve's guts. They are aware of each other, Fidds is not aware that Ford has Bill, Ford is not aware that Fidds has Steve, but they both know something is off about the other.

Hypnotized Fiddlesteve would change the maths of the Portal blueprints that Possessed Billford spent hours making the day before, hilarity ensues ❤️

2. Is he helpful at first?

You put it perfectly into words! If the Memory Gun was a metaphor for Alcohol, Steve is straight up a metaphor for Drugs. Sure, it can work at first, makes you feel productive, fills you with energy, eases your worries and is a distraction. But how long does that take before things start getting out of hand? First week, Steve helps you with EVERYTHING. He finishes all of Fidds' tasks in less than a day, Ford praises Fidds' efficiency, Fidds is literally on cloud nine! He needs to call that weird guy again. He needs to keep this going. But then as time goes on, things get a bit weird, the maths aren't adding up, things are tense between Ford and him and he doesn't know why, uh oh, he needs help! He needs His Elixir. He will make everything right. (Spoiler: things start to go downhill from there)

3. Does he make the humans he controls also eat Copper Wires?

A picture is worth a thousand words ;)

4. What do you imagine being hypnotized feels like to Fidds (the first few times before he starts going brain dead)?

I think he does black out sometimes when Steve takes over without any warning, but when Fidds willingly reaches out to Steve I'm guessing it feels like when Mable ate that expired candy. Just pure vibes!

5. Does Fidds already being pretty into the ‘beginnings of permanent brain damage’ stage of memory gun use have any affect on Steve’s ability to hypnotize/control Fidds?

It just made everything easier! You see, Steve's perfect customers are those who are "weak-minded". Hypnosis wouldn't work on those who are strong-willed. It would just wear off after some brief time, or they would just turn down Steve's offerings. That's why Fidds is so easy to manipulate. In fact, Steve's hypnosis will end up causing even more brain damage to the victim in the long run. Fidds' brain will begin to atrophy and his nervous system will start to collapse.

6. What do the ‘side effects’ of Product start to look/feel like in the victims?

While not under hypnosis, the victim can experience: Brain Atrophy, photosensitivity, seizures, increased paranoia, hallucinations, weight loss, isolation (Steve would push away everyone), drowsiness, random twitches, memory issues, inability to perform everyday tasks and decisions... I'm currently designing Old Man Fiddlesteve and it's making me so unbelievably sad by just staring at him...

Can partial brain function eventually be recovered like with the memory gun? Or is Pyramid Steve eventually just puppeting a corpse until it starts to decompose?

Both! There are two ways to stop Hypnosis: the victim's mind becomes somehow "strong" enough to get rid of hypnosis, or Steve could just let that victim free because it reached a point in life in which everything is already so messed up that it hit rock bottom, becoming brain-dead and not useful.

If you get rid of hypnosis in the early stage, it's easier to regain control of your life. If, like Fidds, you've been under hypnosis for decades, it would take A REALLY INTENSE treatment to regain AT MOST 45% of the original brain potential. Since it was a coping mechanism stronger and more aggressive than the Memory Gun, your brain will suffer so many side effects and the atrophy can only heal until a certain point. Fidds can't catch a break in any AU I fear...

7. Can I write fanfiction. Of this au.

YESS i'd love to read it!! My "lore-accurate" tip is to just follow the canon, but with Fidds hiding Steve from Ford the same way he hid the memory gun from him. (The memory gun is still part of this AU tee-hee). Just four divas having intense beef with each other. Fiddlesteve was the perfect excuse to come up with more Fiddauthor toxic angst :>

As you can see I will try to share some of his lore by using Computer entries (and Journal entries to show Ford's POV) but you can just take creative liberties since everything is a huge WIP, or you can DM me your thoughts! <3

[silverbladexyz]

Hi love! Can I request The Flags and Yukito with a fem s/o who demands princess treatment? I’ve been seeing it all over tiktok and you write all those characters so accurately so I thought I’d request💕

Of course :) I apologise if this wasn't what you wanted, as I tried to base it off of their theoretical love languages 🖤

The images used belong to their original owners.

TW: Mentions of injuries, and uh this ended up kinda long. Chuuya is now included in every request with the Flags. Female reader.

The Flags and Ayatsuji with a female S/O who demands princess treatment

Pianoman:

-You don't need to ask him; he already treats you like a princess. No wait- you ARE his princess :))

-He is the leader of the Flags, and being the leader he is means that he treats everyone with patience and respect, even if he doesn't know them. And it is no different for his beloved S/O; except he treats you with 100x the amount of love, patience, respect, and loyalty than those he deems as his acquaintances

-Pianoman wants to be the perfect boyfriend, and he'll make sure to reflect that in the way he acts towards you. He is a big fan of gentlemanly traditions such as kissing the back of your hand while greeting you or holding the door open for you to pass through, as he views them as the most romantic ways of giving you the love that you deserve- alongside catering to your needs when he can. He's a giver, and he will gladly give everything he can give to you

-He'll definitely call you his princess, and he uses it almost every time he addresses you. It's one of the only pet names that is even deserving of your beauty, and he'll never fail to remind you of it everyday. Sometimes, he'll even call you his queen when he's in a more intimate mood

-Always makes time for you. Even if the Boss ordered for his supernotes to be delivered as soon as possible, Pianoman will still drop everything he is holding and immediately be by your side, ready to listen to every precious word that falls from your beautiful lips. You're the most important person in the world to him; and what kind of boyfriend- no, what kind of man would he be to put his girlfriend after his needs and wants? Even though you do tell him that he doesn't need to be this attentive to you, he still wants to make sure that he's spending enough time with you for your happiness

-He will definitely spoil you! And he's smart about it too; oh, you can't decide whether you want this leather jacket or this silk gown? Why not get them both? Don't worry about the cost, because he's able to negotiate with the salesperson to get a more reasonable price. Don't feel bad about wasting his money, because you're worth every single cent that he spends on you 🖤

-Now he does have a teasing side to him as well... he'd love to fluster you with compliments at any chance he could get. The way you get flustered when he's only telling you the truth make him chuckle quite a bit. Would also be the type to engrave your initials onto his pen so that whenever he's doing his paperwork, the simple texture of the engraved letters brings him a sense of comfort in the dreary time of filling out reports

-Pianoman strikes me as the type to have acts of service as a love language. So he'll not only do all the chores for you, he'll also surprise you with an exquisite breakfast in bed or a lovely bouquet of flowers on your table. And tucked right amongst the flowers, is a small note saying how much he loves you and how lucky he was to be able to call you his <3

-SLOW DANCING IN THE KITCHEN WITH MUSIC PLAYING!! To be able to hold you close, stepping in sync together- it is a very private moment that is only shared between the two of you. He'll dance at whatever pace you're comfortable with, and at the end of it, he'll dip you and look deep into your eyes, leaning in for a slow, passionate kiss

-Surprises you with hugs when you're in the middle of working too. I headcanon that his arms are lean but strong, because pulling wires is no easy feat. Pianoman loves the feeling of you in his embrace, and he equally loves burying his head into the crook of your neck, because it allows him to relax from all the stress he has recently

-He is a craftsman that can make the most realistic supernotes in all of Yokohama, so I guarantee that he's really great at making artistic creations. Pianoman will always handmake your gifts; whether it's an expensive-looking necklace or a fancy bookmark for your everyday use. If you do the same for his gifts too, be prepared to receive affection x10 for the rest of your life :)

Albatross:

-Albatross has probably seen trends of the princess treatment; and when you ask him for him to treat you like that? He'll gladly do it!

-Okay, but he's lowkey adorable when he's giving you the princess treatment. Even though he's like a golden retriever that wants to shower you with hugs and kisses, Albatross is mindful of your boundaries and will only initiate skin-to-skin contact if you were comfortable with it

-But if you love physical affection, then he's over the moon. He'll plant kisses on your cheeks, your lips, your hands; just anywhere that you want him to, really. Albatross knows that he has an image to maintain in public, but he gets really handsy in private. Hugs and cuddles are something you will never be short of, and they're so full of love that you always melt inside when you receive them

-I feel like Albatross is also the type to like play-wrestling with you. He always does it gently, because he never wants to see you hurt; but he does love to tickle you until you're laughing all over. Is also the type of person to pick you up and spin you around sometimes, and place you back down lightly afterwards

-Ah, and don't forget; vehicles of any kind are his forte. Which means that you don't have to worry about transportation anymore, because he'll always arrange it for you (yes, including the way back). And he doesn't just use random cars, oh no. Albatross will make sure that those cars will be high-end and ✨PRISTINE✨. I'm talking about Porsches and Lamborghinis whom are clean and decorated to your very own liking, with interiors so fancy that it could make even celebrities jealous. But your beloved only does it for his princess that deserves the world, which is you 💓

-But if you don't like cars, then that's perfectly fine! This man has a variety of vehicles you can choose from. You want that hot pink motorbike? Just say the word and it's already yours. Oh, you want to work out by riding a bike? He'll make sure that it's custom made and tailored to your taste. Needless to say, he'll very gladly spoil you with any vehicle that you want

-Your lover will definitely throw pebbles at your window at nighttime... just because he missed you. And then, just like Flynn Rider scaling Rapunzel's tower to meet her, Albatross will literally climb in through the window and embrace you in his arms. Sometimes he'll even take you out for a lovely drive in Yokohama, letting you admire the beautiful sights of the city underneath the moon's glow

-But in the calmer moments, Albatross will definitely check up on you and ask you how you were doing. He wants to make sure that you're physically, mentally, and emotionally fine, and that you can tell him all of your troubles. Despite being the talkative and energetic type, he's surprisingly a very good listener; and will definitely comfort you if you were feeling down. Afterwards, he'll do something to lift your spirits up, whether it be cracking jokes and funny stories or bringing you out to places that you liked. He loves seeing you smile, and will do anything to keep you smiling that happy smile

-He'll definitely introduce you to his friends, because he believes that friendships are still important when you're in a relationship. Albatross puts complete trust in you, and he is glad if you get along with his friends too. However, you do notice that he pulls you closer to him when he talks with any of his female friends, clearly signalling that you are the only one he loves

-However, please please PLEASE don't ask him to cook. Now, he is a sweetheart and will gladly cook any meal you like, but it is easier said than done when his cooking skills are on par with my ability to sleep at night (which is bad). If you want, you can teach him how to cook, but you've gotta have a lot of patience for him. Don't worry though, because he can still make instant food taste like heaven for you

-Always is respectful of your interests and preferences. He even encourages you to pursue your hobbies, and never once judges you for what you do or say. Albatross can and will defend you from everyone who thinks otherwise, because to him, those things are what makes you you <3

Doc:

-Doc, upon hearing about this 'princess treatment', is slightly confused. Was he not treating you right in the relationship? But his insecurities quickly dispel when you just explain to him that his best was already enough for you

-He doesn't realise it, but it is noticeable how he is much more gentle, sweet, and affectionate with you than with anyone else. Despite not being as physically strong as the other members of the Flags, he still possesses more strength and knowledge than the average person- and it is due to the fear of hurting you with those attributes that he treats you like his queen

-Definitely has acts of service as one of his main love languages. Doc, ironically, does not about his own health that much. But when it comes to you? You'll find yourself being taken care of so thoroughly that you won't be getting sick or injured anytime soon. He makes sure that you eat nutritious meals three times a day, alongside hydrated and wearing enough clothing for the weather; as well as reminding you to take breaks and getting enough good-quality sleep. Needless to say, Doc always prioritises and puts your needs before his, even in urgent situations

-He loves spending time with you. Doc doesn't want you to feel lonely, and whenever he gets to be by your side, he'll listen to whatever you want to say or do. His full attention is on you, and he will engage in any conversation you initiate, with no sign of his mind wandering off elsewhere even if it was the most frivolous subject that the two of you were talking about

-Oh, but if you liked to be alone sometimes, he is perfectly happy to give you time to yourself. Even though he just wants to be with you at all times, Doc is 100% mindful of your boundaries and respects them. He himself has quite a few boundaries set too, so it is perfectly natural that he abides by yours too

-Now he isn't too physically affectionate, but he is perfectly happy to hold your hand when you take walks with him. He always walks by the curb. No questions asked. You're his queen, and it is only right that you shall be treated as such, even on the littlest and most common of things. Doc wouldn't want to risk even the slightest chance of you getting hurt

-But when you actually do get hurt, this is when he gives you the princess treatment of your life. Firstly, Doc will make sure that you're not in any sort of pain or discomfort while he treats your injuries- he'll even let you squeeze his shoulder as hard as you want if it meant that it relieves the pain. He will work quickly but efficiently; your wound would be cleaned and wrapped up in a bandage before you can say 'Open Sesame'. Afterwards, expect him to do EVERYTHING while you rest and recuperate. Even if your injuries weren't serious, Doc is still going to take over all of your chores while checking up on you whenever he could, because he just wants you to be fully healthy again

-I feel like Doc is the type to get you all sorts of gifts, ranging from books about medical science to different accessories that you could wear everyday. He wants the gifts to be meaningful- so whenever you saw them or used them, you would think of him. And he always manages to make it a surprise; you could never guess what he's going to gift you next. The delighted look on your face when you find another one of his small presents is enough to make him happy for the rest of his days

Iceman:

-Honestly, this man will treat you however you'd like him to treat you (only if it was reasonable). So if you wanted princess treatment from him, he'll happily comply. You deserve to be treated like a princess, anyways

-Iceman is a calm individual with few words to say, which means that he'll mostly listen to whatever you decide to talk about. Same as Doc, he is an excellent listener, and he will remember everything that you mention to him. You could tell him all of your friends' birthdays, and he'll remind you about it when you forget, because his full attention is always focused on you

-Gives you his coat when you feel cold. Even if it means that he'll be the one exposed to the freezing weather, he still gives it to you because he'd rather be the one affected instead of you. Also starts carrying around a spare coat the next time you go out with him, because you insisted that he shouldn't be the one suffering for you, even though he assures you that he doesn't mind it

-Iceman is so observant it's almost scary. If he sees your gaze lingering even a millisecond longer than usual on a particular object, he'll note it down and buy it for you as a gift, even if you've already forgotten about the item you saw. He's also attentive to the slightest sign of discomfort from you. It's too loud? He'll quickly move you to a quieter place. You want to ask for more water but you're too nervous to? He will consult the waiter for you. Someone is making you feel uneasy in public? Your partner will put his arm around your waist in a comforting manner, while keeping an eye on that person to see if they'd dare try anything brash

-He strikes me as the type to like taking pictures of you whenever the two of you do something together. It doesn't have to be a special moment- you could just be tending to a flower, and Iceman would take out a camera to snap a photo of you (with your consent of course). He wants to keep them so he could look back on the memories, and smile as he reminisces those times. Don't worry about him ruining any shot, because he is a pro at photographing, and would gladly take as many pictures of you as you want

-Brewing drinks for you is a must!!! Whether you are a coffee lover like him or not, Iceman will make your favourite drink for you everyday- and they taste even better than the ones you find in cafes. He makes them perfectly, and if you ask him to teach you? He'll be slow and precise, carefully guiding you through the steps of making the drink. But he actually just wants you to relax and leave all the work to him, because he loves showing his appreciation for you through his actions

-He knows that you can handle yourself in a fight; you're not utterly defenceless, afterall. But Iceman will never hesitate to protect you when you need it, and he doesn't care if he himself gets injured during the process. As long as you're safe, then he's content

-When he sees that you're stressed or tired, Iceman will encourage you to tell him about your worries, while giving you a warm and reassuring embrace. He loves the feeling of you in his arms, and sometimes he'll give you a kiss on the top of your head. Don't be afraid of crying in front of him, because he won't judge- instead, he'll hold you and rub your back comfortingly, and afterwards he will make you your favourite meal to cheer you up

-Princess treatment or not, this man definitely treats you right :)

Lippmann:

-Pretty boy is pretty enough to be a prince in fairy tale stories; and he will definitely be the prince to your princess!

-Lippmann has a silver tongue, and you cannot tell me that he wouldn't be complimenting you and showering you with praise at every single chance he could get. However, he doesn't simply tell you that you're beautiful, because that's boring. Instead, he says 'Your smile, your tears, your laugh; everything about you is as ethereal as the goddess Aphrodite, but not even Aphrodite herself can make me fall as deep in love as you.' And he's smooth about it too. So yeah, be prepared to be flustered quite a lot by this gorgeous gorgeous man

-He will also leave notes in places where you could easily find them. And on each note will be a short phrase about how much he loves you, as well as the words being so sweet and encouraging that it makes you melt as you read them. Lippmann will write new notes everyday, just so that you could constantly be reminded about your beauty and how much he loves you if you were starting to feel insecure about yourself

-It doesn't even stop there. When he's feeling more romantic and daring, he will full-on write a letter with several pages detailing everything about you that he finds to be lovely, and how lucky he was to be called yours. What makes it even better is that each and every word on the letter is genuine (he told me himself)

-We all know that he's rich, which means that he would also want to spend his money on you by buying you whatever you want. Whether it be expensive clothing, jewellery, books, anything really- Lippmann would always buy it for you. You are his lady afterall, and he shall treat you like absolute royalty

-Despite having a lot of money, he'll actually ask for your decision before spending it on you. You want to have dinner at the most expensive restaurant in the world? Sure thing! You just want to have a quiet date at home? That's fine with him too! As long as he gets to spend time with you and make you happy

-However, I feel like Lippmann prefers the calmer, softer moments with you. He's always busy with negotiations and acting and whatnot, which means that he can barely catch a break in his line of work. So even when he likes to spoil you, he loves it when he gets to cuddle you on the couch and make you fall asleep in his arms. He treasures every moment he could get with you

-Now since he is so pretty and famous, he has a lot of admirers and acquaintances vying to get his attention. Lots of women will come up and talk to him, some of them clearly with the intent to seduce him with their charms. But Lippmann will politely fend off their advances, while putting an arm around your waist and pulling you closer towards him. He isn't afraid of straight-up telling them that you're his girlfriend, and he will assure you that he only has eyes for you if you start to feel insecure because of those women

-Lippmann is a fan of gentle touches. Includes but not limited to caressing your hand, stroking your cheek, and rubbing your back. But if you don't like physical affection, he's understanding and respects your preferences. Afterall, your comfort is his number one priority

Chuuya:

-Girl, you got yourself the best man for this

-As we all know, Chuuya is a king, and who the king decides to settle for is often named as his queen. But he doesn't treat you like a queen, no. Royalty is simply too insulting of a word to describe how he treats you

-Instead, he treats you like a GODDESS. A divine deity that was simply too good for him- and was so kind that she let herself be tangled together with an ordinary, sinful man who didn't even deserve to cast his eyes upon such loveliness. Chuuya can and WILL give up everything just for you, because you're the only person that deserves all of him and much, much more

-Being a Mafia executive means that he's rolling in money, and no matter how much you protest that he doesn't have to get you gifts, he'll still spend thousands on high-quality items that he knows you'd like. If you don't know what you want, tell him and he'll choose something for you, and his taste is ✨ IMPECCABLE ✨. He'd love to get you matching couple rings and jewellery even though he thinks the precious stones could never compare to your beauty

-Chuuya is extremely loyal, so rest assured that he'll never leave you for someone else. He'll also introduce you to his friends as his lover, and will still treat you as a goddess in front of them with no shame whatsoever. Loves to show you off to his comrades, but he'll tone it down if you're shy or embarrassed about it

-Asagiri said himself that Chuuya respects women, and he will, without a doubt, respect your boundaries, your likings; everything about you, really. Making you feel heard is very important to him, and he would never judge you for anything you do or prefer. Always maintains eye contact whenever the two of you are talking to each other

-Acts of service king all the way around. When you wake up, breakfast is served on the table and your neatly-folded clothes are placed on the bed. Your lunch? Already packed up and placed carefully into your bag. And when you come home, Chuuya's still doing all the chores, no questions asked. However, if you beg hard enough to share some of the load, he'll be willing to compromise (he's still doing most of the chores though)

-But when he sees you tired after a long day of work? Get yourself ready, because this man will pamper you so much that you wouldn't have to lift a finger. Not only will he have finished all of the housework, he'll also prepare a warm rose bath full of candles and scents for you. Then, as he'll present to you an amazing gift that you’ve been wanting for a while, and as you're busy admiring the gift, Chuuya would pour some exquisite wine into a glass for you to savour while you’re in the bath. With enough persuasion, he'll join you in the bathtub, but he is perfectly happy to just massage your shoulders as you relax, while talking about your day. Sometimes, he'll even plant a few kisses on the top of your head, while murmuring how much he loves you

-Would take you flying with his ability. If you're afraid of heights, Chuuya will make sure that he doesn't take you too far off the ground, and you'll find yourself being held a protective embrace as you rise off the ground. Sometimes, if you're feeling up to it, he will twirl you around in a romantic waltz, with the pretty sights of Yokohama serving witness to the love you bore for each other

-Not only is he your king, he also is your protector. If he sees people spreading rumours about you behind your back, or straight-up creeping you out, he wouldn't hesitate to stand up for you and send them a friendly warning with a few words. Nobody gets to badmouth his lover and expect to get away with it

-Always remembers your birthday, and will make it a time that you'll never forget. Needless to say, you're going to be spoiled a lot because it's your special day! You could ask for whatever you want, and Chuuya would buy it for you- if it was reasonable. Takes you to do different things on every birthday, and will even rent out an entire private island for you. I'm not joking when I said that he'll buy you everything you ask for

-It'll be a bonus if you spoil him as well, but he's content with pampering you. If you're happy, then he's happy I love him so much owuajsjdhha

-Chuuya is surprisingly pretty touchy in private. He loves to put his arms around your waist, pulling you close and whispering sweet nothings with his deep, smooth voice. This man also is a fan of planting delicate kisses over your neck, collarbones, wrists- anywhere you like to be kissed, really. His kisses would be light, as he's afraid of hurting you, but he wouldn't mind indulging you if you liked it rough

-Will always return your texts and calls within a few minutes of you sending it. Even if he's busy, he's never too busy to make time for you, and he will apologise if he comes home later than usual. You assure him that it's fine, but he will try his best to finish his work on time so that he could be by your side for longer

-He keeps his promises to you without fail, since he would hate to let you down. At the end of the day, a queen reigns with her king, and Chuuya promises that he shall never stop treating you as his goddess

Ayatsuji:

-'Princess treatment', to this man, was confusing at first. Was it not common sense for him to treat you with respect and love? In his eyes, women should always be treated like queens in a relationship. The fact that this was outlined as 'princess treatment' honestly made him disappointed with most men in today's society

-But he will definitely treat you well! Despite his bluntness and tendency to mock/tease people, he's a lot more soft and kind-spoken with you; a side that he only shows to those he deems worthy of his trust

-Now Ayatsuji does things a bit differently. Sure, he can still hold open doors for you and give you his coat when you're feeling cold, but he tends to treat you like a princess in his own unique way. Such as letting you take the initiative in anything that you want to do with him, and always accompanying you whenever you were going out to do something. His main love language is quality time, and he will ensure that all time spent with you is made to be worth your while

-He definitely will handmake dolls for you. If you liked any particular character in a book or anime, Ayatsuji will model the doll off of that persona, and it ends up being so perfectly alike that it could be sold as official merch. If you want, he'll even teach you how to create beautiful dolls from scratch

-Your partner gives you gifts from time to time, but they aren't generic presents that guys buy for their girlfriends. Instead, he puts thought and careful consideration into each of your gifts, deducing if it could be used in your daily life. And now whenever you use the pen he gifted you, or wear the coat that was your birthday present, you think of him

-Ayatsuji is also the type to buy matching rings for the both of you. He hides his beneath his glove in the daytime, because he doesn't need anybody questioning him about it. But as soon as he returns home to you, he'll take his glove off with his mouth, bringing your hand up to his lips and planting a kiss on the ring that is a reflection of his love for you

-He holds you in very high regard, and this can be mostly seen in the way he speaks to you. While he is cold and emotionless towards others, Ayatsuji is considerate and attentive as he conversates with you, always listening to what you have to say first before adding in his own ideas and opinions. A queen commands respect, and there is no doubt that Ayatsuji gives all of his to you

-Surprisingly good at comforting you. Your lover has a kind heart within him, and he does not hesitate to use it when he sees that you're down in the dumps. He chooses his words carefully, and he actually has more empathy than he lets on. In just a few moments, he'd already have helped you express your emotions, and offered you advice that makes you feel better about the situation you were upset about. Also doesn't mind if you simply wanted him to hold you- he'll hold you for as long as you desire if it meant that you'd feel better afterwards

-Does not even look at the other females that come his way, but anybody would know at first glance that you're his partner because of how he treats you compared to everyone else. Tsujimura is just a colleague to him, and everyone else are mere acquaintances. None of them can even come close to replacing you

-Ayatsuji may have his oddities at times, but just know that you'll always be a princess in his eyes 💝

I feel like this kinda veered off to boyfriend headcanons... but I hope that you enjoyed it :D

@circinuus @riiwrites @sariel626 @chocsra @ruanais @yuugen-benni @angolicious

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐎 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐌‘𝐒 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄

summary: what kind of music the piercers/tattoo artists of my modern au would listen to

characters: piercer!/tattoo artist! xiao :: scara :: kazuha :: venti :: aether :: heizou

my modern au || genshin masterlist || the playlist

𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎

melancholic and wistful/dreamy

black over-ears

When he felt like nobody around him understood him, Xiao fell into the comforting embrace of music, listening to artists who sang about the sentiments he kept to himself. It has always helped him express himself with pencil and pen though, letting the graphite tip dance over the paper more smoothly and less hesitantly. To this day, Xiao uses music to block out the world when it all gets too much and familiar tunes help him calm down.

死ぬのがいいわ- fuji kaze, exile- taylor swift/ bon iver, young and beautiful- lana del rey, gales of song- belle, the moon will sing- the crane wives

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀

indie rock

grey over-ears

Scara has been heavily influenced by Venti whose music could always be heard throughout their shared flat. While it vexed him at first, soon he found himself nodding along to the melodies, something his roommate noticed and then offered to share a Spotify account until Scara decided to make his own. And, although he’d rather die than admit it, despite how much he loathes his upbringing, he can’t deny that some classic pieces sneaked in between his usual rotation.

shake it out- florence + the machine, allies or enemies- the crane wives, too close- sir chloe , bohemian rhapsody- queen, winter- vivaldi

𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀

indie, folklore

old school white wired earphones

Kazuha loves to let his spirit rest as he absorbs the feelings artists pour into their music. For him, it’s important that he can connect to the story that’s being told, either through the lyrics or the sentiment the music conveys. He opts for rather calm songs that invite you to relax even if there’s a deeper meaning to the lyrics. Music is a way for him to create his peace of mind when he can’t be out and surrounded by the sound of nature.

feather- sabrina carpenter, cardigan- taylor swift, saw you in a dream- the japanese house, to the mountains- lizzy mcalpine, let’s fall in love for the night- finneas

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈

the definition of “listens to every genre” but has a soft spot for deep and tragic lyrics paired with a funky and upbeat sound

both over-ears and earbuds; also has a collection of old wired earphones tangled together (half of them are broken too)

Venti’s Spotify account is working overtime, that app is never closed. As a former band member, he knows how to play a variety of instruments and has tried a lot of styles himself, so he’s very open minded when it comes to new genres. He also absolutely kills it at karaoke nights, even if he’s already a few drinks in. Something might actually be wrong when he’s not nodding or singing along to the music playing in his head or tapping out the beat on whatever surface is closest. In general, handing Venti the aux is a fantastic idea because he can somehow always accurately gauge what music is the right mood for the given situation. He also judges films based on the soundtrack.

夜に駆ける- yoasobi, people watching- conan gray, kingdom dance- alan menken, u- belle/millennium parade, icarus- bastille

𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

(80s) rock and metal or pop

rose-gold or white earbuds

For Aether, listening to music is the time he can let his (gorgeous) hair down. While he’s normally busy making sure everyone else is okay and is doing fine, he seldom takes the time to take care of himself. So when he can lean back and turn up the volume, it’s a very welcome breath of fresh air. The deep base and powerful voices help catalyse any feelings that might have built up over time, and, just maybe, the songs and lyrics are familiar from the time he was lost and confused about what his place in the world was. Yet, he can also appreciate the catchy tunes of popular pop songs that get stuck in his head.

killer queen- queen, master of puppets- metallica, one step closer- linkin park, valentine- måneskin, paradise- sophie and the giants/ purple disco machine

𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐙𝐎𝐔

your local girl group stan

branded earbuds (ahem ahem airpods)

Heizou is a very energetic person and it shows in his music taste. Not only are his playlists full of upbeat kpop girl group bangers, he also knows just about all of the corresponding dances. More often than not, you can hear him humming and whistling along even when he doesn’t have his earbuds in. It’s also a great gateway to interacting with customers; you better believe Heizou is already halfway into a conversation when he catches a glimpse of a photocard.

fancy- twice, eta- newjeans, unforgiven- le sserrafim, queencard- (g)-idle, zimzalabim- red velvet

© the-travelling-witch 2024 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit; do not copy into an ai

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

➺ send in an ask to be added to or removed from my tag list

Genshin Impact: @mccnstruck @teyvattales @silentmoths @ainescribe @meimeimeirin @dustofthedailylife @nsojbbkkm @kazuuhhaaaa @inufinuf @ynverse @nico707 @boba-is-a-soup @hellithides @ryuryuryuyurboat @the-guardian-kitsune

Modern Au: @r0ttenhearts @bananasquash @hoshiwitch @franaby

[blurredcolour]

What If We Just Fall?

Oh my goodness @supervalcsi this has been the hardest secret to keep! 'Tis I, your summer exchange gift writer! Thank you for all your hard work as the moderator of HBO War Daily, we deeply appreciate you!! It's been a pleasure getting to know you and I hope you enjoy your summer as well as this lovely interlude with sweet Rosie!!!

Robert "Rosie" Rosenthal x ATA!Female Reader

Flying with the Air Transport Auxiliary has taught you many lessons – including the importance of guarding your heart carefully. It seems fate, however, has much more to teach you when you are forced to make an emergency landing in East Anglia.

Warnings: Language, Era Typical Sexism, Fear, Crying, Kissing, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Rating - T.

Author's note: No descriptions of reader other than the fact that she is not British. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 5729

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

October 1944

Meeting a man like Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal was not something you had expected when you volunteered for the Air Transport Auxiliary. In fact, you were not even supposed to land at Thorpe Abbotts Airfield until fate, or more accurately faulty wiring, intervened. Ferrying a Wellington bomber from its repair depot back to the RAF in Norfolk for use in their nighttime bombing runs, you were piloting the five-man aircraft alone – standard practice in the ATA. There was no radio, no navigator, and most definitely no guns. You were a civilian non-combatant and if any Luftwaffe fighter pilots happened to get onto your tail, you simply had to outfly them.

This was not your first Wellington, not by a long stretch, and while you preferred Spitfires for their speed and manoeuverability, these mid-sized bombers were usually fairly docile once they got off the ground. This particular aircraft, however, had been displaying a bad attitude from the moment it took to the air. How it had passed quality control inspection was beyond you. The wonders the mechanics were able to work in short turn arounds were usually feats of precision and skill, but almost immediately you noticed the rudder seemed reluctant to obey your steering commands.

A cascade of instrumentation issues followed before the left engine quit. There was a reason, however, that the ‘Wimpy’ as it was affectionately called by the boys who took the aircraft into combat, was still relied upon by the RAF despite the arrival of four-engine heavies like the Halifax and Lancaster. The Wellington could take a great deal of punishment; lose great chunks of its aluminium and linen airframe, be down one engine, and still get the crew to its destination. It was this reputation you were banking on as you pressed forward to your assigned airfield, hoping the ground crew there would treat this plane better than whomever had done it such a disservice at the repair depot.

You were, by your best guess of the landscape and quick glance at your maps, roughly twenty minutes out when the right engine began to choke and sputter.

“Shit.” You hissed under your breath, pleased no one could overhear you, and dropped your altitude to scan for a safe place to land.

During your pre-flight preparations, you had noted this area was dotted with American airfields as well as RAF; surely you could find a stretch of tarmac to keep both you and this precious piece of war material in one piece. The telltale ‘V’ of concrete, surrounded by still-lush grass waving in the autumn breeze, could not have come into view at a better time. Exhaling in relief as the indicator lights confirmed the wheels had descended at your command, you checked visually that the left was down and had to trust the right and rear were also – with no co-pilot to look for you, there was most definitely no way you could release the yoke and glance out the window yourself.

Hoping the allies would recognize you for a friendly, you lined up to make your landing, the right engine quitting on you as you decreased your speed. Holding your eyes open wide with focus, you leaned forward in your seat, gripping the yoke almost painfully, willing the aircraft to stay aloft to meet the first few inches of runway. The silence in the cockpit was agonizing, a tense ringing in your ears replacing the normal, companionable thrum of the engines, sweat stinging at your eyes and prickling in your armpits. Seconds drew out into hours until at last your tires – all three of them – bumped down to land on the runway.

With a sigh of relief, you quickly pulled up on the flaps, frowning deeply as, with no engines to throw into reverse, the large object in motion seemed reluctant to come to a stop. Mortifyingly, you overshot the end of the runway, skidding to a halt some one hundred meters in the grass like a wet-behind-the-ears trainee, and yet…and yet both you and the plane that you had been charged with delivering were still in one piece. Not at all where you were intended to be, but landed safely, for now.

The sound of several vehicles approaching from down the runway refocused your attention and you pulled off your leather flying helmet, smoothing your hair before gathering your things into your flight bag. Climbing from the dead aircraft, you were greeted by a host of astonished male faces.

“Jesus Christ, she’s a dame!” One of the younger men exclaimed, not so quietly, from the back of the crowd and you did your best to keep a straight face.

“I’m so sorry to intrude on your airfield, gentlemen, ran into a little trouble during my flight. I appreciated the safe place to land.”

Several eyebrows shot up at your distinct lack of British accent, at least one astute gaze dropping to the gold wire weave badge bearing the name of your home country just below your shoulders.

“Well, we’re just glad you’re alright, ma’am. We got very nervous when we couldn’t raise you on the radio.” The owner of said astute, piercing blue gaze spoke, a hint of…New York, was it?...colouring his tone.

“Ah, of course, we aren’t connected to radio in the Air Transport Auxiliary, sorry for the confusion that must have caused.” Stepping forward you offered your hand as you introduced yourself. “Second Officer, ATA.”

“Robert Rosental, Major, United States Army Air Force. What happened up there?”

It took a moment to register that he had asked you a question, the feel of his palm pressing against yours as he shook your hand in greeting more than a little distracting. Inhaling sharply, you turned back to look at the troublesome aircraft.

“Rudder was slow to respond, then I started losing my instruments one-by-one before the left engine cut out. I was hoping to make it on the right, but when it started to go, I knew I had no choice to put it down as soon as possible.”

“You flew that all by yourself?” Another member of the crowd piped up and you nodded patiently.

“Standard practice in the ATA, just me.”

“Maybe that was the real problem.” It was hard to tell where exactly the snide comment, spoken under some ignorant boy’s breath, had originated from.

You noted a flash of anger in Major Rosenthal’s eyes before he started to scan the crowd for the source of it, but this sort of response was something you had certainly encountered before.

“I’m sorry I didn’t quite catch that, could whoever said that please repeat it? I’d really appreciate the opportunity to improve on the over seven hundred ferry flights I’ve made since 1941, including one hundred with this very type of plane, so please, speak up.” A sort of stunned silence overtook the group, several of the men wearing bemused smiles, others a look of shock, while the rest shuffled their feet awkwardly in the grass. “Hn. My loss, I suppose.”

“I’m assuming you’re a long ways from where you ought to be?” Major Rosenthal chimed in, the luscious thatch of hair of his upper lip highlighting the way his mouth hitched up at the corner in amusement.

“You would be correct, Major, might I impose upon you for the use of a telephone?”

Some directions were shouted to tow your aircraft to a spare hardstand as it seemed there were replacements planes of their own expected in a few hours and you turned to address the same man Rosenthal was giving orders to – Lemmons, you believed.

“Please be careful, its not a metal skin, it’s linen.”

The look of shock on the boy’s cherubic face framed by copious curls spilling from beneath his knit cap finally broke your control, a small grin sneaking onto your lips as Major Rosenthal led you over to his jeep. Unclipping your parachute from your waist, you tossed it and your flight bag into the back, sliding into your passenger’s seat and finally feeling the ability to relax somewhat.

“Over seven hundred flights?” He glanced at you as he drove, and you nodded softly.

“There are a lot of planes needing to be moved around this island.”

“And here I thought my boys had it rough needing to hit thirty…” He shook his head, driving past the control toward a sea of the all-too-familiar Nissen huts that populated every airfield you had ever visited.

“Ferry flights and combat missions are in no way comparable, Major, the worst thing I face up there is usually English weather.”

The pair of you shared a laugh as he pulled up in front of a long row of buildings. “My CO will want to talk with you, unexpected guest and all.”

“Of course, caused quite the ruckus didn’t I.” You laughed ruefully, sliding from the jeep to collect your gear, startled as he beat you to it.

“Follow me.” He nodded warmly, holding open the door to lead you inside.

After a brief meeting with a very busy Colonel Jeffrey where he put ‘Rosie’ at your disposal, you were ushered into an empty office to use the telephone and contact your superiors. Providing a detailed report of your flight, you were instructed to sit tight pending further directions – most likely an RAF repair crew would be dispatched to try and get the plane operational, but they were also loathe to keep you grounded and out of the rotation for too long. Providing them with Jeffrey’s secretary’s number as the point of contact, you stepped out of the office to find Major Rosenthal waiting patiently in the hallway.

“You must be starving…”

“I would not say no to some food, by any means.” You smirked and followed him back out to the jeep for the short drive to the officer’s mess. “You sure its alright for me to eat in here? RAF doesn’t usually…”

“I insist.” He nodded and opened the door for you once more.

With a grateful nod, you stepped into the space flooded with natural light where row on row of tables covered in crisp white linens stood empty. Given that it was an odd hour for a meal, somewhere between breakfast and lunch, it was no surprise that you were practically alone in there. A server in a white coat quickly approached and Major Rosenthal looked to you to place your order from the choices on offer before requesting just a coffee for himself, pulling out a chair for you to sit before setting your kit in the empty chair beside you.

“This is really quite civilized, thank you again. I apologize that I’m not really dressed for the occasion…”

He chuckled warmly and shook his head. “You look prettier than me after I fly, though I’m quite confident you start out that way, too.” He winked and you smiled shyly, busying yourself with laying your napkin across your lap.

Major Rosenthal was not the first handsome airman to cross your path in your line of work, there had been countless men who had either jeered or flattered you. But after opening your heart to several early on and promptly losing them to a ruthless enemy, you had learned better than to let yourself fall for such girlish stupidity again.

“Having a second breakfast Rosie? Oh…oh I’m sorry I didn’t see you were entertaining…”

“No apologies Croz, one of the lovely ladies of the Air Transport Auxiliary dropped in for a visit.” He grinned and introduced you properly to his friend and Group Navigator Harry Crosby who was apparently only finishing his breakfast now.

“A pleasure, well I’ll leave you two to it. Make sure Rosie tells you about his love of jazz.” His knowing grin at his friend drew an exasperated exhale from Rosenthal, but before he could protest, the server was returning with food and hot beverages that were fit to make your mouth water and Crosby had disappeared.

“I don’t think I realized quite how hungry I was…” You murmured, fixing your drink to your liking before seizing your utensils to dive in.

“Well then, please, enjoy.” He leaned back, cradling his cup in his hands to allow you to enjoy your meal.

After a few bites, once you were feeling somewhat less ravenous, you tilted your head. “Artie Shaw or Benny Goodman?”

He raised an eyebrow slowly before huffing an incredulous laugh. “Artie Shaw, if I must.”

You nodded thoughtfully as you took a deep sip of your beverage.

“What other planes have you flown in your seven hundred ferry flights?” He parried with a question of his own.

“Oh, all sorts - Tiger Moths, Hurricanes, Mosquitos, Spitfires.”

He nodded thoughtfully, smoothing the edge of his moustache with his forefinger. “Favorite plane to fly?” He inquired.

“To fly? Spitfire, without a doubt.” You answered easily, licking a bit of food from your upper lip. “That plane knows what I want it to do before I even think it. Landing however…one the test pilots famously said, ‘she’s a lady in the air but a bi–’” you quickly cut yourself off with a rueful twist of your lips “she’s something else ‘on the ground.’” You finished the quote with more appropriate language inserted.

Rosenthal’s eyes danced with mirth as he enjoyed a hearty laugh at that and you could not help but notice the reddish hue to the whiskers on his upper lip, highlighted by the sunlight streaming in the windows. You wondered if that was where he had gotten the nickname ‘Rosie.’ Jarring yourself from such dangerous thoughts, you quickly turned back to your meal and peppered him with more questions about American jazz greats, enjoying the way he enthusiastically and engagingly spoke about the various band leaders he preferred and why before turning back to you with further questions about your service in the ATA and life before that. Conversation came dangerously easy between the two of you, an undeniable overlap of interests and motivation to contribute.

You were admittedly attracted to the man as well, but for the sake of your sanity, that was something you were going to have to set aside for as long as he continued his brave yet perilous missions over enemy territory. The mess gradually began to fill as true lunch time arrived, your meal and his coffee long finished, and you were about to get up and find somewhere else to wait out the repair crew when one of the servers approached with a message that they had already arrived and were looking for you.

A short drive to the hardstand revealed the four RAF men hard at work on the Wellington under the curious eye of Lemmons and others who were occasionally drifting by.

“When I get my hands on whatever git did this to this poor Wimpy…” You could hear the threats and grumblings emanating from inside the fuselage and pressed your lips together, hoping it was the previous repairperson they had it out for and not you.

“Gentlemen?” You popped your head into the bomber and were greeted by several flustered men.

“Ah there you are Ma’am, how on earth did you keep this lobotomized plane in the air for so long?!”

“Well you know, a good old Wimpy can always get you home…or at least a friendly field.”

“We’ve got…a good few hours ahead of us but then I think you’ll be able to finish the last leg of the journey.”

“Thank you very much, I’m sorry to take you away from your more pressing work. Can I get you anything?”

“Crew Chief Lemmons has been very helpful, Ma’am, but thank you.”

You offered the young man a smile of thanks over your shoulder before shuffling over to set your belongings on the grass. The afternoon was fair, the weather still warm, so you figured it was as good a place as any to wait it out. To your surprise and pleasure, Rosenthal settled onto the ground beside you, picking up your conversation right where you left off as you listened to the men work through the thin skin of the aircraft, watching the sun make its way to the western sky to sink toward the horizon.

“You know, Major, you really ought to come visit London some time. We may not have Artie Shaw or Benny Goodman live in concert but there’s still a great deal of jazz to be enjoyed.”

“Please, you can call me Rosie if you’d like.” He smiled softly and you nodded in response, not wanting to have been so bold without his permission. “You stationed that close that you can just pop into the jazz clubs?”

You nodded quickly. “White Waltham, near Windsor Castle. Very short train ride. Used to fly with the Spitfire girls out of Southampton but I wanted a chance to fly the twin engines…maybe even someday I’ll get inside a Halifax or a Lanc…but that was definitely not going to happen in a ferry pool right next to the Spitfire factory flying only short-range flights.”

“These four engine beasts are definitely a whole other ball game,” He gestured with a thumb over his shoulder towards a B-17 looming behind him, dwarfing the Wellington with is height and breadth “would you still be alone?”

“ATA sends a flight engineer on four engine flights, but no co-pilot.”

He nodded thoughtfully, looking about to add something when the RAF repair crew suddenly emerged, grinning in satisfaction.

“Should be all set Ma’am, care to give it a whirl?”

Nodding quickly, you looked to your companion softly. “Thank you very much for an unexpectedly pleasant standby, Rosie.”

“My pleasure.” He responded with a grin, sliding to his feet and holding out his hand to pull you to yours.

Clipping your parachute in place on the back of your thighs, you slid on your helmet before climbing into the aircraft to try starting the engines. Running through an extended pre-flight check with one of the maintenance crew, they cleared you for take off, Rosie waving to you before driving off in the direction of the control tower. Beginning to taxi out, you could not help the grin as he returned to guide you down the runway, pulling off into the grass and waving once again from where he stood in the driver’s seat of his jeep.

Opening the cockpit window you shouted down to him, “See you in London, Rosie!” before taking off to the sound of his laughter.

To your delight, Rosie heeded your suggestion and made the trip to London – several times in fact, over the course of the winter, otherwise keeping in touch with you via letter. Despite the logical, cautious part of your brain demanding that you keep your feelings for him at bay, feelings that constantly threatened to swell and overwhelm you with each passing meeting and letter, you still found yourself constantly fretting for his safety. Awaiting his next contact, the next proof of life, with bated breath and firmly denied distraction whenever a friend or colleague would tease you about it.

How utterly rude it was of fate to throw such a perfect specimen in your path. Particularly one that could so very easily be taken away with the same rapidity. For not only was he breathtakingly handsome, but his understated confidence and capability in all things so far encountered simply made you yearn to discover his more hidden talents. To have survived so long in an occupation where the life expectancy was six-weeks, just forty-two days, and then sign up for a second tour after meeting his mission quota – yes, he’d had luck on his side thus far, but you had seen luck abandon far too many in the last few years.

The driving pace of your own worked helped distract you, undertaking training in the four engine Halifax bomber in December before the calendar turned to January 1945, and then onto February. Your commanding officer soon indicated you had nearly accumulated enough hours to begin flying Lancasters – much to your delight and eager anticipation. The pace of the production and demand on the frontlines required more ferry pilots for the British answer to the B-17 and you were more than ready to meet the challenge head on.

Not far into the month, however, you found yourself stranded near Diss on a weather delay, unable to fly back to White Waltham. With no trains until the next morning, you decided to hitch a ride to Thorpe Abbotts to take Rosie up on his standing offer to ‘drop by anytime.’ What greeted you, however, was a very concerned looking Crosby and no Rosie in sight. Sitting you down in the same spare office you had used to call in your emergency landing last October, the obviously under-slept man seemed to be having some difficulty getting down to the point.

“Major Crosby, I can assure you I am no stranger to the variety of outcomes of aerial combat, would you mind telling me as much as you are able before you asphyxiate from lack of oxygen?” You coaxed firmly, quite certain he had not taken a breath in over a minute as he paced anxiously in front of you.

His head jerked up at the sound of your voice and he nodded once before sinking heavily into the chair opposite you before taking a deep breath, to your minor relief, and beginning to speak.

“Rosie went up on a mission on the 3rd and we’ve had no news of him since he dropped out of formation.”

Your spine went completely rigid, snapping you almost painfully upright in your chair as you nodded in a cool, detached manner at the news. This. This was precisely the reason why you had been guarding your heart and fighting your feelings and putting every moment of wonderment and each smile of adoration you felt for the man in a small internal box for safe keeping. Because this very situation had seemed so very inevitable.

So why did it still hurt so damn much.

“No news is, is usually good news in these cases but it takes a while for us to hear…. well anything.”

You gulped once, twice in rapid succession as you nodded again before clearing your throat forcefully. “Well, Major, I have to go but,” grabbing a piece of paper from the desk, you scrawled the contact number for Ferry Pool No. 1, rapidly blinking as your eyes threatened to cloud over with tears “will you call if you hear anything? That you can share of course.”

“Of course I will, did you need a ride somewhere?”

You shook your head almost violently, looking forward to the walk to the pub in Diss, a good roadside cry would fix everything surely, before you had to show your face in public. Practically dashing out of there and off the base, you barely made it out of earshot of the gatehouse before your tears bubbled over. Fine lot of good all your cautious and careful planning had done you – you had been half a person in Rosie’s presence only to have the very emotions you willfully denied snap back at you tenfold now that he might very well be…and you never once got to see how his eyes might light up if you had told him how you really felt. Feel.

All the logic in the world could not save you now as you blindly sobbed your way towards town, stubbornly wiping at your nose with your handkerchief. If you had really lost him, a very real possibility that twisted your gut painfully and drew an extremely dramatic series of hitching sobs from your breast, he had deserved better. He had deserved to know that he was cherished and admired rather than just a friend to you, and on that front, you had failed so miserably you just might never forgive yourself.

The weeks of watchful waiting were long and painful. No news came, no messages awaited you at Pool Headquarters, no gossip on the bases you visited. Until the morning of the 26th when, to your great relief, and amusement, you learned that the man was alive and well, enjoying a hero’s stay in Moscow, of all places. The newspaper article quoting the absurd volume of vodka he had endured consuming brought a long-absent smile to your face and lightness to your chest, the news beating Major Crosby’s phone call by, at most, thirty minutes. All as you were on your way with your flight engineer to your first routine Lancaster ferry flight.

Climbing into the cockpit, you took the brief moment of solitude to close your eyes, inhaling deeply as you whispered words of gratitude to whatever higher entities had clearly been watching over him. Perhaps luck was never going to run out for Robert Rosenthal. Clearly you were a fool for thinking that was the eventuality here.

“Ma’am?” The timid voice of your flight engineer, Naylor – though everyone called him Tiny Tim for the young man hardly ever spoke above a whisper, pierced through your thoughts and you jolted back to reality quickly, offering him a reassuring smile.

“Let’s pop over to Wales and deliver this bird, shall we?” You did your best to display nothing but confidence in the task before you.

He smiled back with a nod, just as eager as you to get this great beast of a plane into the air. To say that heavies became the primary planes on your delivery roster would have been an overstatement, but they were most definitely a constant. As was the ever-present thought that someday soon you would find yourself face-to-face with Rosie once again and just how to handle that day of reckoning was certainly something you found impossible to decide upon.

Should you confess and apologize on sight? Wait for a few weeks for him to settle back into life on base before unloading your feelings onto him? Or continue on as you had before? The way your stomach plummeted like a wounded bird at the last option was a clear illustration of how impossible it would be to pretend you simply regarded him as a friend. But there was a growing fear as well. For all of your focus on concealing and compartmentalizing your own feelings, you had not once allowed yourself to consider how he might feel for you. Aside from some flattering comments that may have been construed as flirtatious, he had never displayed anything but the highest calibre of warmth and social graces towards you. But you found yourself constantly pondering just how Rosie might react to a confession of what had flickered into an irrepressible blaze in your chest.

In the end, you spent more time sitting with those concerns than those for his very well being, the unseasonable warmth of February continuing on into March, with more sunny days than you had grown accustomed to after living in England for so long. April was only a few days away on the calendar when your next ferry run took to you St. Mawgan to deliver a Lancaster to the RAF Overseas Aircraft Despatch Unit. Where exactly the aircraft’s journey would end was a point of mystery and you were admittedly envious of the pilot who would sit in the lefthand seat next and take it beyond the relative safety of England’s shores – territory that was strictly off limits to you as both a civilian and especially as a woman.

Parting with your flight Engineer Martens in the all-female WAAF mess, the girl avidly ensconced in a conversation comparing beaus with the girls stationed in Cornwall, you headed back out to pick up a damaged Spitfire that had just arrived from France, desperately in need of a visit to the repair depot. In the process of inspecting the aircraft, to ensure you knew precisely what damage you would be needing to overcome, a remarkably familiar voice broke through your concentration.

“She certainly still looks like a lady on the ground…rather mistreated, but definitely a lady nonetheless.”

Straightening and turning far too quickly, you cracked your head on the underside of the fuselage, earning a look of sympathy as his hands cupped your shoulders to pull you closer, out of danger of inflicting further harm to yourself.

“Rosie…” You whispered, staring at him, unable to stop your fingers from reaching out to brush his cheek, to confirm he was real.

The muscles of his face crinkled beneath your touch as he broke out into a smile, an expression you immediately echoed despite the unbidden prick of tears in the corners of your eyes.

“Hi there.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed sharply, face growing slightly solemn as he lay his hand atop yours, pressing your palm fully against his warm skin. “I’ve been a complete fool, and I’m not sure if you can forgive me.” You tilted your head, brows furrowing in bewilderment. “The world out there is dead set on tearing itself apart and I…” His tongue darted out to wet his lips nervously, an emotion you were quite confident you had never seen overcome him before. “The entire time I was struggling to get back here just to tell you. To tell you how much I care for you. You are much more than just a friend to me, and I was an idiot to think I was okay with putting this off until the war was over.”

Eyes widening as the man seemed to be stealing the very thoughts from your head and putting them into words before you even had the chance, you sniffled playful and wiped at a stray tear that had managed to sneak down your cheek. “Don’t you go taking all the credit now, Robert.” You chided warmly, earning a stunned look from him in return. “It has taken two complete fools to deny what we’ve become, wouldn’t you say?”

Huffing a soft laugh, Rosie conceded your point with a nod as he grasped the unbuckled ends of your leather flying helmet, tugging your face closer. “I love you, you incredible woman.”

Taking a notably shaky inhale, you nodded quickly, a few more tears spilling over. “I love you, too, Rosie.” You struggled to speak around the knot of emotions in your throat, fully intending to reciprocate with some sweet term of endearment, not quite certain you could manage.

Mercifully, his lips had the grace to press against yours and save you from trying to say anything more. Grasping the fleece collar of his bomber jacket, you pressed closer in the shadow of the plane you ought to be inspecting, but the Spitfire was doing a fine job of shielding you from prying eyes and five more minutes in the arms of the man you loved – yes, it was love – and had been separated from could easily be made up courtesy of the stiff tail wind you expected on your flight to Southampton.

The rasp of his facial hair made you shiver at the slightly ticklish sensation as he maintained a firm grip on your straps, delivering kiss after kiss as if to make up for lost time. An uncontrollable grin stretched across your lips, making it nearly impossible for him to continue and so he shifted to focus on erasing any trace of tears from your cheeks, only encouraging your grin to curl wider until you were simultaneously giggling and trembling at the feel of his moustache against your jaw.

“Someday, we’ll have a lot more time, and I’m going to spend every second of it kissing you…” His eyes were filled with a fiery intensity that made it awfully difficult to draw breath and you shifted forward to press your lips to his flushed cheek in turn.

“I’m going to hold you to that, Robert Rosenthal.” You nodded firmly as you pulled back, arching sharply as his hands slid to rest against your shoulder blades, his mouth landing on yours fiercely.

“First Officer, are you quite ready?!” The shrill bark of an encroaching member of St. Mawgan’s ground crew wrenched the pair of you apart as effectively as a physical intervention, a shared look of reluctance passing between you as you quickly straightened your clothing.

You noticed his eyes flick to your shoulders to admire your new rank badges.

“You’ve been busy.” He murmured and you smiled with quiet pride.

“Fly Lancasters now, too.” You nodded and pointed over his shoulder to the plane you had flown in that morning before turning to address your intruder as he called your name once more. “Nearly ready, thank you so much for your patience!” You poured on the sweetness in your tone, noting the way Rosie’s eyes narrowed slightly as they returned to your face.

Biting back a giggle you blew him a kiss before emerging around the nose to greet the harried RAF man. “Major Rosenthal of the USAAF has never seen a Spitfire before, he asked me to show him around.”

“Thank you again for your indulgence, Ma’am, they are definitely fine planes. But I will let you get on with it.” Rosie played his part admirably, the set of the intruder’s shoulders easing somewhat.

“Yes, yes, well we need you out of here in five.” He turned to look at the clipboard in his hand and your gaze met Rosie’s once more.

“It was my pleasure, Major. I’d best be off.”

“Of course.” He nodded firmly, eyes remaining locked on yours as he mouthed ‘love you’ making your heart lurch erratically for a few beats as you mouthed it back. “Safe flight.” You spoke aloud.

“You as well.”

Noting the RAF man was once again paying attention to his surroundings, you turned to finish your quick once over of the plane before stepping up onto the wing and slotting into the narrow cockpit before pulling the side flap closed and starting the engine. Once the coast was clear, you blew one last kiss to Rosie, laughing brightly as he made quite a show of catching it and tucking it into his pocket.

“Until next time!” He shouted and you nodded brightly, pulling the canopy closed.

Because there most definitely would be a next time for you and your man of endless luck, and that was something that you no longer wished to deny.

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

Masters of the Air Masterlist

Postscript - thank you ever so much to @precious-little-scoundrel for proofreading this for me!!

[ominoose]

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐇����𝐚𝐫𝐭

Pairing: Android!Nathan Bateman x GN!Depressed!Reader Summary: Your therapist advises you buy an android as a companion. He's a pain. Warnings: None, just fluff. WC: 1.5k Thank you @jinjersnapz for beta reading :*

The moment he stepped out of the box you wanted a refund. Thinly veiled disappointed creased his eyebrow and tugged down his lips as the android, Nathan, took in the cabin. It wasn't much, that you'd concede, wooden floors, walls and roof with a bathroom, office, kitchenette, living room and bedroom. The basic rooms filled with what one needed to live, or as your therapist called it “bare essentials” and “not willing to take up your own space”. Bullshit, essentially.

And now the result of not listening to said bullshit was taking in your abode like it was a one star Air BnB that posted fake five star reviews. He probably wanted a refund as much as you. That was an accurate description of life since he was shipped into it, ‘I want a refund.’

“You're wasting time.” Said the most annoying alarm clock since the creation of alarm clocks.

You only responded by turning over and pulling the covers over your head before they were ripped off the bed and cold air attacked your now exposed and cold skin.

“Stop spending all your time in bed just to go bitch to your therapist about how you're worthless and your life has no meaning. Either get your ass up or I'll dismantle the bed and hide the screws.”

The petty, blunt asshole would. Last week he messed with the dryer's wiring, leaving your bed sheets wet until you finished your book (that he'd recommended, ordered on your Amazon and held you at laundry point to read), citing “intellectual enrichment” as the reason.

Getting out of bed was rewarded with him asking for a cup of coffee while he worked out (apparently the extra use of his metal tendons strengthened them over time), knowing full well he'd only complain about it being cheap. It was a hellish routine, but a routine nonetheless,  as your therapist annoyingly felt the need to point out every session. Begrudgingly, you'd also be forced to admit it was the truth. He got you out of bed, engaging with the house, energizing yourself and having some sort of start for the day. 

“Why don't we go out for a hike?” Nathan rounded you to grab the steaming cup of coffee, grimacing at the taste. 

Broad shoulders rolled openly, clad in simple grey tank top and black joggers. Despite knowing he had no skin, no actual flesh underneath the tanned synthetic layers stretched over his biceps looked soft enough to bite. Not that you'd let the android know.

“A hike? Outside? Today?” The spontaneous request caught you off guard, already openly reluctant. 

The deadpan stare he gave you behind the silver frames wasn't fond. 

“You live in Butt-Fuck Nowhere and want to just sit in this shitehole. Wasting your innate opportunity to explore nature's beauty.”

“Yeah, I do. Have a fun hike Nathan.” That statement was meant to be closed by you swiftly turning and walking back to your room, but a warm, calloused hand gripped your arm sternly and rooted you to the spot.

“How am I meant to have fun if you aren't there to bug? A walk in nature is an easy hack to ease your disease riddled brain and you don't take advantage of it. It's a wonder androids haven't taken over yet.” 

The way he refused to handle you and your depression like a porcelain doll was something you loathed to love about him. How odd that an arrogant android treated you with the most humanity.

“I'll upload a virus into your cloud if you don't let me go, see who has a ‘disease riddled organ then.”

“An STD threat, how cute. Try successfully updating your Sims mod folder and I'll personally walk you through the virus myself.” Logically, there shouldn’t be a lively spark in his eyes, but it was there all the same, goading you into spats with him, time and time again.

“I bought you, the least you could do is fix my Sims!” Another thing you hated needing from him was the way he fed and stoked your fire, turning you from dying embers to a roaring bonfire. It always happened before you were aware of it, always when he got that cocky smirk as if this was exactly what he wanted.

And following routine he simply walked away, rolling those ridiculously handsome shoulders to add salt to the wound and leaving you to seeth.

“Hurry up and get ready.”

When you finally crested the hill, sun shining down through dark pine trees, birds chirping around you, part of you conceded it was worth it. The other part was whining over the stitch aching at your side.

“God I feel like death.” The panting breaths came out as a fog in the cold forest, but Nathan paid no mind to the temperature or your whining. 

You never once questioned his ability to enjoy the cold whistle of the wind, whether or not he could feel the numbing chill in his finger tips. Why did it matter why his favourite spot was the waterfall, always cold no matter the season, a hint of a smile plucking at synthetic lips when the mist tickled his beard. It didn’t occur that it should matter, but it was noticed by him the way your mouse didn’t entertain the news articles discussing the ethics of how closely androids now resembled a human, drawing comparisons to fictional history of Dune.

Nathan knew more than anyone that you weren’t the academic, whizzkid genius he was. Your mind physically could not scramble through numbers and piece together advanced mathematic equations. You weren’t book smart, but it wasn’t something he considered lacking. 

You dismissed stupid opinions (like the aforementioned article) as if they didn’t exist to you as easily as you stood toe to toe with him to defend other stupid opinions (Aristotle was just some annoying old guy). You were acutely aware of your depression, the way your mind functioned against you and plodded on, taking it in your stride your own way.

As you keeled over, huffing out cold whisps, his dark brown eyes scanned every inch of you. There was no part of you he hadn’t cataloged and stored carefully in his memory banks, no quirk or habit was unfamiliar to him. Yet it always felt like a small surprise to see them unfold in the intimate privacy of the small bubble you both shared.

“Why’re you staring? You better not say I told you so, I’ll ship you back and enjoy going back to my solitude inside.” 

“You wouldn’t have to be alone. You’re pretty enough to coax someone into your little hovel.” Said like a passing comment on the gathering clouds.

“Pretty?” Said as a reaction, completely caught off guard.

“Yeah? How many times do we need to go over how your mind will distort how you perceive reality before you finally listen to me, sweetheart?” How was he managing to still be so condescending while arguing about how beautiful you were, how the softly filtered sunlight through the trees settled against your hair like the sun was made to do just that

No wonder humans had wasted so much time on artsy poetic bullshit since the BC’s, beauty really could be all you had the capacity to think about.

“Based on what? I thought you didn’t abide by societal constructs Mr Bateman?” It was a shoddy attempt at acting normal, but the supercomputer android would’ve already noticed the quiver in your voice and the red dusting your face. Maybe if you pretended you didn’t know he could do that, he just wouldn’t. 

“I’m abiding by my standards.” His eyes stared right into you. The words words hit you right in the stomach, no time to brace.

And he takes advantage of the hesitation.

“We both know I’m capable of noticing when you ogle me when I work out. We both know I'm equipt to sense when your heart rate picks up, which it does every time I lean over your shoulder to correct your shitty work. We both know I can literally measure the heat in your cheeks right now, want me to?” 

The speed at which your head shook had your hair lashing your face, something that only grew his smirk.

“You sure?”

“Fuck yo-” 

His lips were warm when they cut you off, subtly soft in contrast to the calloused hands cupping your face. Your mind instantly jumps to satisfaction that you’d been right in your assumption about the feel of his lips until the actual realisation that he was kissing you kicked in, and by that point he was already pulling away. You didnt even have time to savour how the cold metal of his glasses pressed against your nose.

“Lets go, it’s gonna start pissing down and I hate fogged up glasses.” 

Nathan was already walking back home, back turned until he realised you weren’t already trailing after him. He turned. You were still staring, lips slightly parted and wide eyed, not yet finished processing what had happened. His smirk turned soft.

“C’mon sweetheart, I need my shitty cup of coffee.”

[softerseasons]

Juno, out of curiosity, what does an accountant DO? What does it mean to be one? Because I know there's math involved. I've heard it's very boring. But I don't know anything else and I'm curious because you're very good at putting things to words.

Okay first of all, I cannot express just how excited I got when I first saw this message. There is nothing I love more than talking about things I know about, and usually when my career is mentioned I don't get questions so much as immediate "Oh, bless you" and "I could never"s. Which- totally fair! For some people, accounting would be boring as all hell! But for a multitude of reasons, I adore it.

There are multiple types of accounting. The type most people tend to be more familiar with is that done by CPAs- CPAs, or Certified Public Accountants, are those that have done the lengthy and expensive process to be certified to handle other peoples' tax documents and submit taxes in their name, amongst other things. Yawn, taxes, right? Well, the thing with that is that there's a lot of little loopholes that tax accountants have to remain familiar with, because saving their clients a little more here or getting a little more back there can really add up, and can do a lot for people who, say, have enough money to afford to hire someone to do their taxes but not necessarily enough to be going hog wild with. Public accountants can work for large firms or by themselves, and also do things like preparing financial statements for businesses, auditing businesses to ensure all of their financial transactions are true and accurately reported to shareholders and clients, and consulting on how finances can be managed to maximize revenue (money in - money out = revenue, in very simple terms).

The type of accounting I do is private accounting! That basically just means that I work for a company in their in-house accounting/finance department. Private accounting tends to get split up into several different areas. My company has Payroll, Accounts Receivable, and Accounts Payable.

Payroll handles everyone's paychecks, PTO, ensuring the correct amount of taxes are withheld from individuals per their desires, and so on. Accounts Receivable handles money flow into the company- so when our company sells the product/service, our Accounts Receivable people are the ones who review the work, create the invoices, send the invoices to the clients, remind clients about overdue invoices, receive incoming payments via ACH (Automatic Clearing House- direct bank-to-bank deposits), Wire (Usually used for international transactions), or Check, and prepare statements that show how much revenue we are expected to gain in a period of time, or have gained in a period of time. This requires a lot of interfacing with clients and project managers.

My department is Accounts Payable. Accounts Payable does basically the other side of the coin from what Accounts Receivable does. We work mostly with vendors and our purchasing/receiving departments. We receive invoices from people and companies that have sold us products/services we need in order to make our own products/perform our services, enter them into our ERP (Enterprise Resource Planning, a system that integrates the departments in a company together- there are many different ERPs, and most people simply refer to their ERP as "the system" when talking internally to other employees of the same company that they work at, because saying the name of the system is redundant) using a set of codes that automatically places the costs into appropriate groups to be referenced for later financial reports, and run the payment processing to ensure that the vendors are being paid.

To break that down because I know that was a lot of words, here's some things I do in my day-to-day at work:

- Reconciliations, making sure two different statements match up: the most common one is Credit Card reconciliations, ensuring that there are appropriately coded entries in the system that match the payments made on our credit line in our bank.

- Invoice entry: this is basic data entry, for the most part. This can have two different forms, though

- Purchase Order Invoice entry: Invoices that are matched both to the service/product provided from the vendor and the purchase order created by our Purchasing/Receiving department. We ensure that the item, the quantity, and the price all match between our records, the purchase order, and the invoice, before we enter this.

- Hard Coded Invoice entry: Invoices that we enter manually due to there being no Purchase Order for them. This is often recurring services, like cleaning or repairs, that may happen too often or have prices vary too much for Purchase Orders to be practical.

- Cleaning up old purchase orders: sometimes Purchase Orders are put in the system and then never fulfilled. Because this shows on financial statements as being a long-standing open commitment, it looks bad, so we have to periodically research these and find out if the vendor simply didn't send us the invoice, if the order was cancelled, or if something else is going on.

- Forensics! This is my personal favorite part of the job, where someone has massively borked something that is affecting my work, and so I go dig into it, sometimes going back as four or five years in records to find the origin point of the first mistake, and untangling the threads of what happened following that mistake to get us to where we are today. There's an entire field called Forensic Accounting that is basically just doing This but for other companies (it's a subset of auditing, and often is done via the IRS) and that's my dream position to be totally honest. I loooove the dopamine hit i get with solving the mystery and getting praised for doing so faster than anyone else has even begun to realize the problem to start with.

- Balancing Credits/Debits: This is more of a Main Accountant role thing, but the long and short of it is that every business has Assets, Liabilities, and Equity. Liabilities and Equity are what we put into the company/what we owe, and assets are what we have received/what we are owed. Anything that increases Assets or lowers Liabilities or Equity is a Debit. Anything that decreases Assets or raises Liabilities or Equity is a Credit. Every monetary change we process has to include an equal Debit and Credit. This is its own whole lecture, so if you wanna know more about double-entry accounting, let me know, but it's yawnsville for most people.

- Actually cutting checks or initiating bank payments to vendors for amounts we owe them.

- Vendor communication: I'm on the phones and email a lot with vendors who are wondering where their payment is, or why something was short-paid, or if I can change some of their info in our system, and so on and so on. Every job is customer service, unfortunately. I don't love it, but I do a lot less of it in private accounting than I would have to do in public accounting.

- Spreadsheets: I make so many spreadsheets I am a goddamn Excel wizard. I love spreadsheets. This isn't necessarily accounting-specific though, most people in Finance jobs love spreadsheets, or at least use them to make their lives easier. I make them just for fun, because I'm a giant fucking nerd who finds that kind of thing enjoyable lol. So if you ever need a spreadsheet made for anything, hit me up.

As for math, that's a pretty common misconception. While there is math, it is very rarely more complicated than "I paid $3 of the $8 I owe, now I owe $5" for me. There are some formulas you learn in school (Business Administration with a focus in Accounting is what I studied), but they're also pretty standard and rarely include more than like... basic algebra. Which. Thanks @ god because I flunked so hard out of pre-calc in college. I could not have done accounting if it really were all that math heavy.

Aaaand yeah! That's all I've got off the top of my head- if you have any more questions about it, do let me know, I'm happy to ramble on for hours, but I'm cutting it here so I don't start meandering on without direction lol.