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dissapointu · 1 month ago

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u have beautiful writing and it’s honestly a talent! you’re so quick with it like hello? may u please do how arcane characters would react to having a partner who likes making handmade gifts instead of buying them? me personally i LOVE making handmade gifts because it seems more beautiful putting in work for my friends and family! honestly you’re my favorite writer on this app I’ll most definitely think about makin u a handmade gift! you’re so cool!

FIRST OFF??? YOU are the coolest person EVER and reading your message made me do a little happy dance in my chair, so thank you for THAT! 🥹 The fact that you’re out here pouring love into handmade gifts for your friends and family?? ICONIC. Handmade gifts are SO slept on, and you’re out here proving they’re the superior love language. If I could, I’d be your hype squad 24/7. (Also, i would ugly cry if you made me a gift Mamas.)

Okay, okay, let’s jump into how the Arcane characters would react to having a partner who loves making handmade gifts because spoiler: they’re all gonna be absolutely obsessed with you. Let’s GO.

———————————————————————-

Jinx

Jinx would LOSE HER MIND every single time you gave her a gift. She’s such a sucker for anything you pour your heart into.

• “Wait, wait—YOU made this? For ME?” She’s staring at it with huge eyes like you just handed her a treasure map.

• She’d keep EVERYTHING you give her, no matter what it is. You could hand her a crocheted pigeon and she’d be like, “This is the best thing anyone’s ever given me.”

• She’d totally try to make something for you in return, but it’d be chaotic as hell. Like, you’d get a DIY flamethrower or something held together with duct tape and glitter.

Basically, she’s your number one fan and would brag about you constantly.

Vi is playing it cool, but deep down, she’s melting into a puddle of feelings. She’d get all quiet when you give her something and just kinda… stare at it like she can’t believe someone would put in that much effort for her.

• If you made her something wearable, like a bracelet or beanie? That thing is NEVER coming off.

• She’s not much for words, but she’d pull you into a tight hug and just whisper, “Thanks. I mean it.”

• Also, if anyone dares to make fun of your gifts, she’s throwing hands. (“What’d you say about my partner’s hand-painted mug? Yeah, that’s what I thought.”)

Sevika

Sevika would be SO caught off guard when you hand her a gift. She’s not used to people doing thoughtful stuff for her, so she’s just… staring at you, holding your gift like it’s a foreign object.

• If it’s something practical, like a leather pouch or gloves? She’s putting them to use immediately. And trust, she’ll let everyone know her partner made them.

• If it’s something sentimental? She’s keeping it tucked away somewhere safe, but you’ll catch her looking at it when she thinks you’re not watching.

She’s a little rough around the edges, but trust me, she cherishes EVERY handmade thing you give her.

Silco

Silco would be SO intrigued by the concept of handmade gifts. Like, he’s trying to figure out why you’d put in so much effort instead of just buying something. But the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes it’s because you care about him. And yeah, that hits him right in his cold, scheming heart.

• Something elegant or functional, like a pen case or a decorative box? He’s putting it on his desk like it belongs in a museum.

• Something more emotional, like a portrait of him and Jinx? He’ll treasure it forever but keep it private—it’s too precious for the world to see.

You’ve officially cracked the Silco Code: thoughtful effort = instant softie.

Vander

Vander is 100% DAD MODE ACTIVATED every time you give him something. He’s smiling so big it hurts, just standing there like, “You made this? For me?”

• If it’s something for the bar, like a new sign or decoration? He’s putting it up immediately and making everyone compliment it.

• More personal gifts, like a knitted scarf? He’s rocking it every single day, even if it’s summer.

• He’d also love hearing about your process, sitting there with his tea like, “Tell me about this one. What inspired you?” Big golden retriever vibes, honestly.

Ekko

Ekko would be OBSESSED with your gifts. Like, you’ve unlocked a whole new love language for him.

• If you made him something for the Firelights, like a custom mask or patch? He’s adding it to his gear immediately. “Look at this! My partner made it. Isn’t it sick?”

• If it’s something sentimental, he’d carry it around like a good luck charm. It could be the tiniest trinket, and he’d be like, “This? This is everything.”

• He’d also 100% try to make something for you in return. Now you’ve got matching handmade energy, and everyone is jealous of your vibes.

Jayce

Jayce would be SO touched by your gifts. This man is a golden retriever in human form, so every time you give him something, he’s beaming like you just made his whole week.

• If it’s something for his lab, like a personalized toolbox? He’s showing it off to Viktor like, “Look what my partner made. Aren’t they amazing?”

• Something sentimental, like a framed photo or painting? He’s hanging it in his house and telling EVERYONE about it.

Jayce is basically your personal hype squad, and he’s never gonna stop appreciating your creativity.

Viktor

Viktor would be SO soft about your gifts. Like, he’s not used to people going out of their way for him, so when you hand him something, he’s just sitting there like, “You made this? For me?”

• If it’s something practical, like a custom notebook for his designs, he’s using it every day and thinking of you while he works.

• Sentimental gifts, like a sketch or keepsake? He’s keeping them close, tucked away in a spot where he can see them when he needs a boost.

You’d inspire him to start tinkering on something special just for you. Now you’ve got your own Viktor Original™.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn would be SO charmed by your gifts. She’s used to fancy, expensive things, but the effort and love you put into your handmade stuff? That’s what gets her.

• Make her something practical, like gloves or a scarf? She’s wearing them CONSTANTLY and bragging to everyone.

• If it’s more sentimental, like a personal letter or drawing? She’s keeping it somewhere safe and rereading it when she misses you.

Caitlyn loves thoughtful gestures, so you’re basically her dream partner. Period.

Mel Medarda

Mel would be absolutely enchanted by your gifts. She’s surrounded by luxury, but your handmade work feels so much more personal.

• Something elegant, like jewelry or an intricate painting? She’s showing it off at council meetings like it’s priceless.

• Something heartfelt? She’s keeping it in her private quarters where she can admire it when she’s alone.

Mel would also encourage you to turn your craft into a business because she believes in your talent 100%.

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa would be IMPRESSED. She’s a practical person, so if you make her something functional, like a knife sheath or leather gear, she’s putting it to use immediately.

• If it’s sentimental, she’d keep it hidden, but trust—it means a lot to her.

She’d respect your dedication and probably compare you to a warrior. “It takes discipline to create something with your own hands.”

Heimerdinger

Heimerdinger would be THRILLED. He LOVES creativity, and your handmade gifts would light up his world.

• If you made him something clever or whimsical, he’s showing it off to everyone in Piltover. “Look what my partner made! Aren’t they brilliant?”

• Sentimental stuff? He’s putting it in his workshop where he can admire it while he tinkers.

He’d also want to collaborate on a project with you because you’re basically his new favorite inventor.

Salo

Okay, Salo would be one of those people who doesn’t know how to react at first, but you’d totally catch him staring at your gift later, all soft and thoughtful.

• If you made him something like a carved figurine or a small keepsake, he’d keep it in his pocket for good luck and touch it when he’s thinking about you.

• He wouldn’t be super showy about it, but you’d KNOW it meant a lot to him when he said something lowkey like, “You didn’t have to, but… thanks. This is nice.”

• Deep down, he’d be so touched that you took the time to make something just for him. Handmade gifts just hit different for someone like Salo, who appreciates quiet, meaningful gestures.

Scar

Scar is giving CHAOTIC, “OMG YOU MADE THIS??” energy every single time. Like, no matter what it is, he’s holding it up like you just gifted him the crown jewels.

• If you made him something goofy, like a silly little knitted hat or a bracelet, he’s rocking it IMMEDIATELY. “Look at this! My partner made it! Aren’t they the best?”

• He’d totally try to “help” you make stuff sometimes, but he’d just end up making a mess and laughing about it the whole time.

• Scar is your ultimate hype man, always gassing you up and telling everyone how talented you are. You could hand him a macaroni necklace, and he’d be like, “Masterpiece. Absolute masterpiece.”

Maddie Nolen

Maddie is secretly the softest bean about your handmade gifts. Like, she’d be a little shy at first when you gave her something, but you’d catch her smiling at it later when she thought you weren’t looking.

• If you made her something practical, like a cozy scarf or a cute notebook, she’d use it all the time and feel so warm and fuzzy knowing it came from you.

• Sentimental gifts? She’s absolutely treasuring them forever. She’d keep them somewhere special, like her desk or bedside table, and glance at them whenever she’s missing you.

• Maddie would totally ask about your process too, like, “How did you even come up with this? It’s amazing.” She’s so supportive, and your gifts would mean the world to her.

Lest

Lest would be absolutely ENCHANTED by your handmade gifts. Like, she’d hold them so gently, as if she’s afraid of breaking something so precious.

• If you made her something elegant or delicate, like a hand-painted vase or a piece of embroidery, she’d treat it like it’s the most valuable thing she owns.

• Lest would also love the thought and care behind your gifts. She’s the type to listen closely when you explain how you made something, nodding along with genuine interest.

• You’d totally catch her showing off your gifts to her friends, like, “My partner made this. Isn’t it beautiful?” She’d treasure everything you give her, no matter how big or small.

And that’s it! TL;DR: YOU are a gift, and every Arcane character would feel insanely lucky to have someone as thoughtful and creative as you. Keep being amazing, bestie. 💜

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ddiidi · 4 months ago

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bf!Bangchan x gn!reader (ot8 mentioned)

Masterlist

When he calls you clingy, so you distance yourself

Previous Pt. 1

Pt. 2

Next Pt. 3

!Warnings: angst, swearing, fun at the end bc reader needs fun in life (lmk if i missed anything)

Important!Side-Note!: Should I do a happy ending for them?

It has been 3 days since that incident. 3 days and still not a single message from Chan, not even an apology for yelling at you, nothing. You've been texting him every now and then, to ask if he's okay, eats and sleeps. He never replied to any of them, nor has he seen them, so you spend most of the time packing your stuff and working from home. You were glad you had a job you also could work from home for. Every now and then, you went over to the building, to check a few things, walking extra detours, to make sure, you won't bump into Chan.

A few of the other members texted you the past days, asking if everything is okay and why the haven't seen you around for a while, to which you just replied with "Busy with work and private stuff, dww:)". It made you happy they actually care that much about you, just because they haven't seen you in a few days, but also anxious and sad, since they care, but chan hasn't even shown any intress in you the past days. You weren't even able to tell him that you're moving.

More days pass, and a few days, turn into a week of no textes from Chan. At this point, you wondered if he even knew that you still exist.

So here you were, in your old apartment, stuffed with boxes, not being able to get your mind off chan and his well-being, even though, you're still deeply hurt from what he said, you couldn't just not not care about him....He pointed out two of your insecurities, just like that as if it was nothing and he doesn't even care...not about you not your feelings.

You let out a deep sigh. You should be getting ready for a day with your friends. Not think about some man, who happened to be the love of your life, who calls you his partner, but doesn't even know how to cherish you.

You let out another, heavy, sigh as you drop to the floor to put on your shoes, Let's just focus on having a great time today, you thought to yourself and left the apartment.

Well, maybe it was not the best decision to go out today...

Chan for his part, had to listen to a lectur from Felix, after you ran out, crying. "Chris..you really shouldn't have said all that to her. I understand that you were annoyed or whatever, but that was no reason to yell at her" "Really now? They were just being a fucking, clingy and annoying crybaby that couldn't take no for an answer, for whatever reason." chan sighed out, at the younger member. "That crybaby...was really uncalled for chris. They're your partner, not some random person on the street you can yell at. I wouldn't wonder if they took that "Leave me alone" to heart and actually leave you after that action." "But I-" chan starts, "I'm just saying chris. You better fix this before it's too late. After what you pulled, partners are faster gone than you could blink" with that, Felix leaves the room, leaving Chan alone, again.

Since that talk, Chan locked himself in his studio, thinking about the best way to apologize for what he said. But he couldn't find one. No matter how long he thought, days, a whole week, there was nothing but regret. He just had to apologize in person and beg for forgivness, hoping that you'd actually forgive him.

So there he was, with a giant bouquet of flowers, fresh clothes and hope.

He had the code to your apartment, so he opened the door, ready to be greeted by the warm, wide open hallway, but was greeted with the cold gray of bunch of boxes instead and the first thing he felt, was panic."Y/n? Y/n are you there?" he yelled, as he ran through your whole apartment, but as he saw that even all your date polaroid pictures where gone, he couldn't help but panic even more.

He let's the flowers fall on the floor, running to your room and nearly collapsed when he found..nothing. Where were you? Did you actually go? Did you actually leave him? All these questions consumed his head and that's when he broke, crying to the point he couldn't breath. He took out his phone and called the first number he saw in his recent calls. It peeped a few times, before someone took the call.

"Hey Chris everything alr-" "They're gone! Felix they're gone, they're not here i don't know what to do! I've never meant it I was just-" chan cried and gasped out at felix on the other line. "Woah there calm down, try to breath I don't understand a word. Relax, I'll be there okay? You know there is an explination for everything, that's what you always say, so try to relax it's okay" Felix tried to soothen the older man, while grabbing his keys and running out to his car. Chan didn't reply anything to that and continued soobing.

I have your location, I'll be there in 5." that's the last thing chan heared from felix, before he collapsed on the floor in your apartment.

And you? You were drinking coffee with your friends, while your bestie told you guys a story how she saw a horse that nearly drowned.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾✧༺🖤༻✧✧༺🖤༻✧✧༺🖤༻✧☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

@finnbbl @wolfs-howling

#stray kids #skz imagines #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan x y/n #christopher bang #bang chan stray kids #lee felix #bang chan angst

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clovers-housetree · 5 months ago

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Activities for Regressors Without Caregivers! (or just fun regression activties!)

(Although you're always welcome here if you'd like any form of comfort anyway! ^w^)

This one's kind of a long one, after the few tips I list, I've mentioned an app I use called Finch, which will be talked about below the cut.

Since that's the case, I'll put my little ending message here instead:

Knowing how to take care of yourself can take a lot of work and practice, but I believe it's worth the effort, because then you'll be a happier and healthier you! Especially if you can find ways to make it fun!

I'm more than happy to be here for you and offer my support in any way I can, anyhow! I'm proud of you for doing what you can, I know it can be very hard.

I myself don't have a caregiver for when I regress, so most of the time I end up taking care of myself! Here are some fun activities and things I do when I regress to keep myself calm and happy! ^w^

Paci mentions/pics not long after the first section for those of you who'd rather not see 'em.

♥ Arts and crafts! I absolutely LOVE coloring and making bracelets with beads, something not too complicated for little hands, but also something fun!

With coloring, you can buy coloring books, or draw something of your own to color in- even printing out a page you find online, coloring digitally, or tracing over something to color in could work! I prefer coloring more than drawing personally because I don't draw all the time, but I bet I could learn a little thing or two from the artists around here!

For bracelets (and other jewelry), strings can be hard to knot with little hands (at least they aren't those small, slippery clasps!!), but the beads shouldn't be too hard to handle if you're careful! Even just planning out patterns is fun!

Here are some My Little Pony bracelets I made, and the decorations I did for my pacis!

♥ Making playlists! Dancing is fun, and a good way to get the zoomies out, but you can just make playlists for any occasion! I have playlists that help me pet-regress, songs with sounds I like, adventure playlists... (Well- a lot of these are still in progress, but- you get the point!)

I also love those playlist videos on YouTube! Animal Crossing, Super Mario Galaxy, Minecraft and music box music are typically my go-to to help me settle or just make for comfy background music! Here's one of my favorites, shadowatnoon has lovely Nintendo music mixes!

♥ Playing with your plushies! You can take them on adventures, or make your own!

Like Toby, climbing The Great Pillow Mountain!

(This is Toby by the way, he's one of my best friends and a VERY good hugger!)

You can play games with them, too! Toby's REALLY good at hide and seek... Maybe you can find him for me? :0

♥ Finding shows to watch! I really like Paw Patrol and Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles at the moment. Plus, you can look at agere content and fics from shows you like! People make really cool stimboards and moodboards, for example, and I like reading through all the fun stories people write!

Here's a silly picture of Rocky I found! :3

Finch

Finch is a self-care app where you take care of your very own little bird friend by taking care of yourself!

You can set daily goals, or for each day (or more specific ones as well I think.). By completing these goals, you give your bird energy to go on adventures! They usually come back with a funny little story or silly questions, because they're learning, too!

Through completing these goals (or daily, at least), you can get Rainbow Stones, which you can use to buy clothes for your bird, make them different colors, or give them furniture for their house!

They're also LGBTQ+ and disability-friendly!! :3

This is my little bird, Honeydew! You're welcome to friend me as well if you'd like, my code is: Z3E2T7VRK6

It's helped me learn a lot about taking care of myself and keeping track of my goals, and I get little rewards for it! I've used the app for several months now, and it's helped me out a lot!

"Fluttershy protects this blog! SFW interaction only, please and thank you! ^w^"

"Wouldn't show a kid? Doesn't belong here!"

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unholyverse · 7 months ago

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MYSPACE 1.0 THEME REFRESH (originally by conkersradfurday, refreshed by unholyverse)

live previews: 1, 2 / download (pastebin)

hi! i've been using this old theme for years now because other myspace themes don't hit the same, but i've been tweaking a lot of it for personal use. i think it's been long enough since this theme has been abandoned that i can upload something that can handle itself better on modern tumblr.

main features

asks are formatted to look like myspace comments. fun!

four custom links

myspace buttons to follow, message, or block the blog owner

a bunch of info spaces so the world can know what you're about

extra font options

functional search bar (but this is tumblr so...semi functional?)

that web 2.0 ugly goodness

other features + info below the cut

new features

friend space - ever wanna show off your friends? now you can with the friend space to show off your top 8 9 friends on your blog. don't have enough friends? no worries, you can always toggle it off

image space - wanna put a bunch of blinkies somewhere? you'll need to have a bit of html and css knowledge for it, but you can go into the code and add as many images as you'd like. just look for the section and start pasting those images. it's a little tedious but tbh that's just the authentic myspace experience isn't it? but if that's not your thing, you can also toggle it off too.

tweaked/deleted features

had to delete the music player :( sorry but it used flash and i'm not really sure how to make a music player in javascript yet

added username input because it was annoying me that your title could be your name and it didn't make sense in most cases

deleted infinite scroll because the script was super outdated

added the ability to change the "online now!" gif. the original gif will always be in the defaults of the code.

changed the text post header font to verdana because it was impact and you could not fucking read that and it wasn't accurate to a myspace bulletin anyways

deleted the feature that force showed all the pages you made on your blog. so annoying. it will look a little weird if you have asks/submissions deactivated, but i doubt many of you using the theme will have them closed anyways

changed the dead links to redirect to the actual myspace site

extra recommended add-ons

scm music player: a customizable music player with tons of different skins and tons of songs you're able to add

unblue polls by @glenthemes: what it says basically; allows you to customize the colors of tumblr polls on your blog

cursors-4u.com: i love these dinky little cursors they're so fun. great if you really wanna lean into the 2000s aspect of the theme

cursor sparkles: what else is there to say about this they're just fun

notes

i plan on updating the theme semi-regularly if bugs are brought up and stuff (which you can tell me through my inbox)

hopefully i can work on extra tweaks as time goes on (such as figuring out how to add a footer image to videos, toggle tags, etc)

don't repost/claim as your own because it already isn't mine in the first place

like/reblog if you use!

update log

added a tags toggle + tweaked the video post sizes

made the "is in your extended network" status customizable to add different text. feel free to tell the world how many gas station boner pills you took

added an official theme link

#tumblr themes #free themes #myspace theme #myspace #tumblr theme #webcore #2000s web #old web #i.html

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hyunjining · 9 days ago

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my thoughts on every song on hop, so that i don’t have to make a million different posts (in case you care)

walkin' on water - catchyyyy af. changbin's verse at the beginning is soooo perfectly old school hiphop. imitating record scratches vocally and through wordplay is so silly and so skz and i think this whole song is just fun

bounce back - I DON'T GIVE A SHIT MOVE IF YOU WANNA LIVE!!!! literally a masterpiece. perhaps not the epitome of my music taste, but the production, the flows, and the attitude are undeniably spectacular. the whistling in the intro is the best thing i've ever heard no joke. holy shit stray kids you are so fucking good at what you do please make music forever

u (ft. tablo) - the VOCALS!!!! everyone sounds so fucking good here wowee.... the instrumental in the chorus is so pretty and melancholy.

walkin' on water (hip ver.) - this is batshit insane lmao. i saw people saying this version should have been the tt but i like it as walkin on water’s unhinged secret twin

railway - obviously very sexy but also just so gorgeous production wise. it sounds so grand and a bit menacing. we have GOT to start praising bang chan’s vocals more. i love that this is his favorite genre of music because it suits him so well.

unfair - the lyrics are so felix in the best way; my heart is so warm thinking about him writing this with the message that everyone is deserving of love. his voice has so much range and i LOVE to hear him sing confidently.

hallucination - it sounds sooo crisp. jeongin’s tone is perfect for this song. all the little sounds in the background that you couldn't hear in the live version are so cool. the CASTANETS. in my expert opinion, this fits into the category of gay people music. maybe my favorite solo. hurry hurry hurry~

youth - show me whatchu wanna do!!!! this song makes me so fucking happy and i feel like i want to jump around the room. lee know has one of my favorite voices ever and i would genuinely listen to him sing anything but i love this upbeat style for him

so good - the INTRO. the instrumental is soooo cool. i’ll never forget hearing this for the first time through a shitty audio stream on twitter and immediately perking up. the "oh. my. GAWD." is so cunty hwang hyunjin i am obsessed with you. i can't believe he wrote this song as a joke lmfao it's well. so good.

ultra - a banger. i’m obsessed with the fact that the instrumental gets noisier as the song goes on, in alignment with changbin's explanation that he's meant to be building up and then releasing energy by the end. i don’t go to raves but if i did i would need to hear this song play at one. i just love it when changbin goes all out with the edm

hold my hand - so anime coded, because of course. this is a perfect combination of han's love of rock and rap. thinking of the layers of meaning to this song is so overwhelming and honestly i just hope that han jisung is happy forever and always makes music because this is absolutely what he was born to do.

as we are - i’m speechless. this song is STUNNING. it gives me so many warm and fuzzy feelings and i don’t even need to know the lyrics to feel emotional while listening to it. how am i supposed to get through his beautiful soft vocals in the first chorus without crying. i'm so fucking glad this man is a singer. half of the streams of this song are going to be me

#i love you stray kids and i love you stray kids music!!!!#skz #stray kids

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imaginesig · 7 months ago

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“Could someone give a message to the smallest man who ever lived”

pt2: "Ditch the clowns, get the crown / baby I'm the one to beat"

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

SMAU

The reader is a singer-songwriter who just broke up with long term fiancé Lewis Hamilton. Of course she wrote a gut wrenching album to cope.

This is gonna be a lot of shitting on Lewis— absolutely no hate! I just love a good heartbreak and the Tortured Poets Department

Also dates aren’t accurate bc I don’t have time to worry abt all that and I totally stole all of this from real life- not an ounce of originality

yn_ln

Liked by lewishamilton, mercadesamgf1, user28, and 928,928 others

yn_ln: pinky promise to always by your side 🏎️

Tagged: lewishamilton

lewishamilton pinky promise to always be by YOUR side

yn_ln ♥️

mercadesamgf1 always a pleasure to host our pop princess!

yn_ln always a pleasure to be hosted!!

user1 looks always kill in the paddock

user2 ugh to be in the F1 paddock watching my driver fiancee on weekends I'n not touring

user3 stunning!!

user4 the pinky promise makes me physically ill😭

user5 fr WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN

carmenmmundt gorgeous! Always a good time with you 🫶

yn_ln dinner soon?

carmenmmundt yes please!!

Load more comments

lewishamilton

Liked by yn_ln, user2, mercadesamgf1, and 810,298 others

lewishamilton: could’ve been better but back to work for next week

Tagged: yn_ln

user1 being a Hamilton fan used to be fun, I used to be happy

user2 the second photo is so fanfic coded I can't

user3 omg yes!!

user4 maybe Ferrari will be championship #8

user5 hottest couple in the paddock

mercadesamgf1 watch out Australia 👊💥

yn_ln

Liked by lewishamilton, sabrinacarpender, user92, and 929,290 others

yn_ln: Argentina I’m so glad we were able to dance my best dress with you! Until next time 🫶🎇

tagged: no one

user1 BEST NIGHT OF MY LIFE

user2 babe wake up a dancing Taylor post just dropped

sabrinacarpender such an electric crowd!!

yn_ln thank you for your hype work

lewishamilton: wonderful show once again!!

user3 best night ever

user4 AHHH STUNNING

user5 manifesting tickets so hard rn

lewishamilton posted a story

Caption: Help me hold on to you ♥️

ynupdates

Liked by user1, user5, user9, and 819,109 others

ynupdates: Superstar Y/n L/n and boyfriend Lewis Hamilton after her show in Argentina!!

tagged: lewishamilton, yn_ln

user1 LMAO the update account rlly said she's everything and he's just Ken

user2 the wine was iconic!!

user3 omg that's my photo!!

user4 we thank you for your service

user5 you know she was jumping with joy bc of those boots

user6 omg irl! I can't imagine how her feet feel after heels all show

user7 they are so sweet

user8 get yourself a man who takes you out after work

user9 my fav couple fr fr

Twitter—

yn_ln

liked by sabrinacarpender, carmenmmundt, user9, and 928,029 others

ln_yn: Round of applause for Brazil for their incredible rain show!!

tagged no one

user1 the first pic 😳

user2 chills, literal chills

user3 the entire vibes of the whole show was wow

user4 I agree and I was watching through a fuzzy live stream

user5 anybody else need illicit affairs (angry verson) on Spotify now

user6 me me me!!

user7 Y/n make it happen

user8 it kinda felt personal ngl

user9 best night ever!! I went as fearless in a gold dress and to say I danced in a storm in my “best dress” with Y/n was incredible!!

user10 omg that’s so lucky!!

yn_ln

liked by user92, sabrinacarpender, girlsinred, and 928,929 others

yn_ln: Thank you South America for welcoming me with open arms for this leg of the tour!! I will miss you all dearly over break but rest and relaxation is important for an awesome European leg!!

tagged: no one

user1 I’m gonna miss the fuzzy live streams 😭

user2 gets some rest Queen!!

user3 I can’t wait for the second leg!! Let’s go Europe🫶🫶

user4 it’s go time to get my Eras outfit

user8 I need ideas!!

user4 me and my boyfriend are going as Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince

user9 I’m dressing in a white dress with a small veil that says ��fucked in the head” and messed up makeup bc champagne problems is one of my favs

user10 I love it!!

user5 anybody else sad Lewis wasn’t at these last few shows, nor was she at any races or seen near mercades home base

user6 they’ve been together for 6 years, I’m not worried abt them spending some time focused on their jobs without each other

user7 yea and they’re really private so I’m sure they’ll catch up plenty during her break

lewishamilton

liked by mercadesamgf1, user1, user8, and 928,292 others

lewishamilton: not the results we needed but that’s what growing is all about

tagged: no one

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lewishamilton

liked by georgerussel, mercadesamgf1, user83, and 718,292 others

lewishamilton: that’s P2💪

tagged: no one

mercadesamgf1 that's our driver!!🏆

georgerussell congrats man! bloody good driving today

lewishamilton double point weekend

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Twitter—

yn_ln

liked by user4, user9, ynhq, and 918,918 others

yn_ln: All’s fair in love and poetry, April 4th

tagged: no one

comments have been limited

Twitter pre-album release—

Twitter post-album release—

yn_ln

liked by: user433, user94, user93, and 282,209 others

yn_ln: surprise!! "The Tortured Poets Department: Eros" out now!! This edition includes two new songs, "So High School" and "The Alchemy"

tagged: no one

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#f1 #f1 imagines #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 imagines #formula 1 smau #lewis hamilton smau #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton #smau #the tortured poets department #formula 1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

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ramons-elevator · 1 year ago

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Fuck it. Appreciation Post for the amazing QSMP admins.

Heres a list of just a small bit of the amazing shit that they did on/for the QSMP and its players:

Made a huge prison/event for Pac e Mike which later turned into a job for Fit for his lore

Helping Foolish out with his Titan by raising it up, lighting it up, and even making sure the brightness of the light blocks where okay for him

Listening to Fit and Phil the day the task was "Make a grappling squawk" and made it interesting with Walter Bob delivering the news

Making Gegg a reality and letting him run for president

Every event is so cool no matter how big or small. The dungeons the The Jaidens did was so fun and interesting. Every new players event is always chaos but very detailed. Even making stuff for French Independence day and the 4th of July so people could experience each other's cultures.

The amazing wedding cake and rings for Cellbit and Roier's wedding

Helping Tazercraft with the Hide and Seek Arena and making the code so they can actually play hide and seek easier

Giving Charlie, Roier, and Max (idk if theres more) key binds so they easily switch their skins and their names in game

The little jokes/ nods to stuff that happens on the server. Like the day after Missa came back and failed a water bucket clutch, they made one of the tasks "Have a water bucket competition".

Them elaborating on stuff that happens on the server. For instance, Bad putting up mini bulletin board at spawn so they keep everyone updated. So the admins started putting the newspaper there so people could see and be updated.

Philza found an insane mob that basically soft locked your game and Phil messaged the admins telling them that information, to which they immediately disabled the mob.

The side NPCs that everyone fall in love with them. From Walter Bob, a random admin who they let the players create a story and love for, to the Capybaras, which are basically the admins having fun but turned into them having their own lore.

The insane enigmas they make for Cellbit and the story it tells. They make the puzzles very detailed and sometimes can hint to other stories.

Fucking making Felps a new member

Making a button so people like Cellbit who frequently switch between Portuguese and English dont have to constant fiddle with the settings and can just switch easily

The fucking insane shit they do with Max and his story is so cool. From what Ive seen, they give him so much room and freedom to make what he wants. Im always so impressed by whatever Max does and the things he does with this server.

They make sure everyone's lore/story is seen/heard and also try to connect the lore together. From what I have seen, nothing is half assed. Cellbit finding books about a powerful weapon? It is used to trap Pac and Etoiles had to go through the nether to get the shield to counter the sword.

Lastly, just listening to the members and hearing their concerns while also letting them having fun. They joke with the members/audience, but also hearing them out when they think something is unjustified.

The admins care so much for this server and put so much work and love for it. I hope they know it never goes unappreciated or looked over.

#qsmp

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timkontheunsure · 6 months ago

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Part 1 Blitz & BPD coding

Ok quick bit first before getting into the nitty-gritty. So to have BPD you need to have 5 of these 9 traits:-

(putting as by proxy with him cus damage your image is harmful to your psyche).

Poor bugger looks to have 9 of 9

Alot of BPD patterns and strategies comes from childhood trauma, and Blitz has this in spades.

Scapegoat and attachment style

Cash is clearly a narcissistic Dad, see the kids as tools.

Cash uses Blitz's love and Strong attachment to his Mum to force Blitz to be useful to him, and do what he wants.

This sends the very strong message that love is conditional. That it is bought through what he can do for another. And that without being useful love and affection will be withdrawn, because he doesn't really deserve it.

We see wee tinny Blitzo struggles with making balloon animals, is a little clumsy, has a sense of humour that not a crowd pleaser. This puts him at the bottom of the pecking order.

This position is the scapegoat. Blamed for anything that goes wrong (fire), to keep the others in line (Fizz told done on purpose), given the most dangerous jobs (rob a Goetia), and given the lest love and affection.

Narcissist see people as tools or a burden. All love from Cash is conditional/transactional.

How Blitz gets love is to be used or to be useful. This the rule.

Affection freely given can't be trusted. It is a lie. This why any Stolas shows has to be either ignored, or change to a kink of "getting plowed by people you look down on". Making himself used.

But Stolas breaks this when he says Blitz "no longer have any obligation to see me, to touch me, to bed me, you are... you are free of me." He panics that he's being abandoned; "I can be better", "I'm I not fucking you good enough" are his immediate responses. Trying to get back to the safety of what he knows.

If they're no 'obligation' then there can't be affection and he wants to Stay with Stolas. And if there's no 'obligation' Stolas telling him he cares must be a lie.

He's slowly coming to see that this isn't always the case in apology tour; when his "earning" his way through sex is rebuffed again.

(It may not be Stolas' kink; but being fucked by an all powerful prince who degraded his a little might be Blitz's 🤭).

After the accident this rule gets a second fun extra playmate that anyone who loves him will be hurt. So Blitz must push them way, to keep them safe from him. These 2 rules give Blitz the disorganised fearful-avoidant attachment style. (Woo go him, give him a cookie. Or you know all the nope, but still give him a cookie).

Disorganised fearful-avoidant attachment comes with a push-pull of wanting to be close but close relationships are scary. (Like running away from Voroskia for loving him).

He is getting better by refusing to be dismissed by Stolas, and coming back the next morning. And even talking to him at the party.

But mostly this bit: "Oh, sorry, this entire time I assumed the worst because I was convinced a prince could never love someone like me, and I've let my self hatred stop me from apologizing to anyone I could ever care about!" Blitz in a nutshell everybody.

His self hatred makes him to self sabotage any romantic relationship before it gets to deep. To protect the people he likes and makes sure they can't love him. Because he doesn't deserve it. Thems the rules after all.

Cash and the accident has taught Blitz to hate himself.

It's also likely why Blitz thinks apologies are for pussys, and that no one deserves one anyway. Those sound like words put in his mouth for daring to ask his dad to say sorry.

He doesn't think he's worth it.

(Added the cuddles pic cus I like the cuddles). And Blitz still doesn't trust that he deserved to be forgiven by Fizz.

This self hatred is why he can't picture anyone loving him, let alone Stolas

"This whole thing we had going... I'm- I mean you're a fucking prince. How could you ever actually care for an imp... Me? How could anybody?" "Stolas, you are better off without me. 'Kay? You deserve so much... I don't even".

No one is allowed to want him.

End of part 1

I'll stick the link to the next part when I get done it, but might be a bit.

Next time some such fun shenanigans as:

Difficulty regulating emotions

Being a burden & how to be useful to IMP

Spitting

Massive fear of abandonment

Emotional loops

The Deal

Chronic feelings of emptiness

Self hatred & the Belief others Must hate him

(his cookie)

As normal is absolutely fine if you don't agree. This is just something I like to do.

#helluva boss #blitz helluva boss #bpd coded #I'm knackered and this is probably less than a third of this #Honestly I'm being trying to get this right for months now #I'm very slow at writing analysis

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atrovel · 2 months ago

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i’m probably going to delete this if anyone wants to get into an argument, because i know i’m not going to respond well to it, but i’ve been thinking about discourse over Rocky Horror and transmisogyny and i want to voice my opinion.

if Rocky were made today, people would be horrified, and that’s obvious. but it wasn’t, and i think it’s important to consider the context of the time it was made. everybody says this– terminology and representation is going to be outdated. that’s to be expected. but i feel there’s so much more to it than that, and people that find Rocky Horror’s messages to be transphobic didn’t understand it.

at its core, Rocky Horror is a movie about movies. Brad and Janet are blatant and obvious stereotypes of the lead and love interest in a lot of movies at the time. Brad is a strong, protective family man, and Janet is a damsel in distress who faints a lot. the Transylvanians are an extreme opposite, but they’re also stereotypes– of how queer people were represented in a lot of media at the time. that’s the point. Dr. Frank-N-Furter is a reflection of how queer people were seen and represented at the time. he’s a stereotype cranked up to eleven, to the point it’s absurd, as obvious parody. the entirety of Rocky Horror is made to parody tropes and stereotypes; that’s what it’s about. the character of Dr. Frank isn’t made to make fun of queer people, but instead to make fun of the trope of villains being aggressively queer-coded compared to heroes in movies at the time.

i do absolutely acknowledge that Rocky Horror’s intent wasn’t and isn’t typically clear to a lot of people, and it can cause harm, but many people interpret it as exactly what it’s clearly making fun of, which is disappointing.

i think the reason Rocky can easily be seen as controversial or bad representation is that it was never intended to be for straight people. this movie is made for lgbtq and ‘unconventional’ people to say “if this is how people are going to see us, then let them” which really resonates with my queer identity. straight people & conservatives are never going to love us like we love each other, so why bother trying to change their minds instead of just embracing it? even though, again, Rocky Horror is outdated, this is a message that is still really relevant today which is why it’s so frustrating to me that so many people take it at face value when it’s blatant parody.

all this being said, if you personally don’t like Rocky Horror because it doesn’t resonate with your experience as a queer person, that’s perfectly fine, and i hold absolutely nothing against you for that. but Rocky has been a safe space for so many queer people for so many years and i think holding genuine anger toward its fans is completely ridiculous. i hope all these words make enough sense, and please be kind! thank you

#and please don’t say “but richard o’brien”#he’s 80 and my gosh people take something he said way too seriously #i’m not defending it but he is queer himself #and rocky horror is an exploration of that queerness #why would he write such a show only to make fun of himself #that doesn’t make sense #rocky horror picture show #dr frank n furter #rocky horror #rhps

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itstheghostofmypast · 7 months ago

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Focus

Idol Wooyoung x (F)Reader

Summary: It amazed him how he ended up with a brat, one that had the attention span of a toddler but the love as warm as the sun.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.9K

Est. Read Time: 15 min

Warnings: None

Rating: SFW

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels

Banner: @cafekitsune

A/N: Basically inspired by @edenesth being my platonic Woo <3- the urge to procrastinate was real strong last night.

“Put it away.”

Her ears picked up the irritated voice, turning her head she glanced at the man sitting on her bed, glasses on top of his head, chin in palm as he scrolled on his phone. Must’ve been talking to himself, turning back around she went back to doing what she was doing before she was rudely interrupted, eying the shoes, maybe she could get the red ones, they’d match the dress he got her recently, oh no, but then she’d limit the things she could wear them with, oh if she gets a black pair then- “HEY!”

“Don’t you have a final exam tomorrow???”

When did he come all the way here? He was standing right next to her, a hand on his hip, the other holding her phone above her head as he looked at the screen, “Seriously? Are we shopping right now?”

“What~” she whined, trying to reach for her phone but he pulled away, frowning at her before shoving the device in his pocket, “Woo, it's retail therapy!”

“No, it’s a distraction.” He huffed before walking over to her bed, “You told me to make sure you study, and I’ll do exactly that,” he flopped down on the comfortable space, sighing at the familiar scent engulfing his senses, calming him down, who knew his girlfriend had the same attention span as his baby brother, no wonder the two got along so well. Sure, on any other day, he would have been thrilled to see that, but not tonight, no, he had to follow the strict boyfriend code, the one where the guy makes sure his baby girl isn’t distracted and focuses on cramming for her final exam.

Craning her neck back, she pouted at him, only to receive an eye-roll causing her to huff, date an idol they said, it’ll be fun they said- if ‘they’ only knew how this idol who was forcing her to study instead of ‘lollygagging’ around, they’d know how dating an idol is NOT fun at all! With a huff she turned back around, wearing her headphones as she began to write once more. Truth be told she was glad he had taken her phone from her; she knew she would get distracted way too easily, especially when she was stressed and considering right now, she felt like the world was about to explode; even though retail therapy would have helped her calm down, it would have also wasted a great amount of time, the time she could have spent reading and making notes.

He glanced at her going back to work, smiling to himself before looking back at the messages in his group chat, the guys had decided to go out tonight, to eat, and he had too- that is until she had texted him last minute, asking him if he could come cover. He had been avoiding her for a week now, not because he didn’t like her, no, but because he knew she’d be easily distracted by him and would choose to spend time with him rather than studying- even though he knew his girl loved those A’s, she was just silly like that, wanting to conquer the world but also getting distracted by a butterfly. So, when he had received the text, “Hey…can you come over and make sure I study?” He had turned to San and shown him the text, earning a snort from the taller man, who shrugged in response but gave him an assuring pat on the shoulder- good, that means no one would have issues with him suddenly bailing on them.

There was a moment of somewhat irritancy on his drive here, he was somewhat disappointed he was unable to relax with his friends after months of promotion, on the other hand, he was also disappointed in himself for even thinking of choosing downtime over helping out his lover. That irritancy had morphed into guilt when she had opened the door for him, instantly wrapping her arms around him as she hugged him close, thanking him for coming here on such short notice, glad that she could always count on him to be there for her. The guilt turned into a form of penitence when he saw the scattered books, papers, numerous highlighters and pens, along with several mugs (what he assumed was coffee) crammed all over her desk, amid the chaos was her laptop, trying to breathe in the mess. He had sat her down on her chair.

He told her to wait, proceeding to pick up the mugs, running to the kitchen to place them in the sink, running back to sorting the papers and books for her, in order of ‘what do you need next’, stacking the pens and highlighters neatly in a box and removing any other clutter that he could find, before pushing her swivel chair closer to the desk. This act had helped his guilt subside, though when he met her loving gaze, it had completely vanished, especially when she had reached up to press her lips against his cheek, mumbling, “I’m so lucky to have you in my life, Youngie~”

He truly felt like he was fortunate to have her in his life- at least that was what he had felt like two hours ago, with two hours gone she was left with three easy topics, ones she had done a million times, but did that mean that was enough of an excuse for her to get distracted? No. He had come to ensure she covered all topics regardless of their difficulty levels, and like a good, dutiful boyfriend he was going to do- “HEY! ARE YOU SERIOUS!?” He screeched, tossing his phone on the bed as he jumped off it, running to her as she fumbled with the laptop, closing the tab and blabbering out apologies.

“I cannot believe you!” exasperating he slammed his hand on the desk causing her to flinch, as he knelt to look at her, though she only averted her gaze as he huffed, “What’s the excuse this time, huh?”

“I uh…wanted to watch your scenes in the MV.”

“That’s it.” With that he marched out of the room, leaving her confused- oh shit, was he mad at her? She did call him here even though he had plans for the night, great, good-going girl, make sure your boyfriend dumps you tonight, the same boyfriend who took time out of his busy idol life, who chose to sacrifice his recreational time to babysit you because you have some form of attention deficit. Make sure you lose that one man who’s always been there for you-

“Now, if I see you do ANYTHING ELSE, I’ll take away all your devices for a week!” he dictated, entering the room and causing her train of inner turmoil to halt- is that a chair?

Dragging the chair next to hers he sat down and, turning to face her as she moved back a bit, only for him to place his hand on top of her head and gently turn it to the laptop, “I better not see you look away even for a second, you got me?” with that he crossed his arms over his chest and continued to stare at her, like a mama hen watching her chicks- god, this was giving preschool all over again.

“Are you really going to be staring at me the entire time I read?”

“Yes.”

“That’s creepy.”

“No, you wanting to watch me in an MV, rather than turning around to see me on your bed is creepy.”

“You looked cute!”

“GET TO WORK, SLACKER!”

“YES SIR!”

To be honest, it was odd how he was staring at her so intently, but it was also endearing, she felt so loved, so pampered, so spoiled- oh if Hongjoong were to find out about how Wooyoung often got a taste of his own antics, through his loving, adorable girlfriend, he’d probably pay her to do worse. Nonetheless, she had soon gotten used to him burning holes at the side of her head, she hadn’t even realized when he had moved closer, his fingers brushing against her skin causing her to jerk, eying him as she earned a sheepish apology, “Sorry…was trying to keep your hair out of your face.” See, it was little things like these that made her heart swell with joy and admiration, little details that he’d note and little acts of kindness that would spark joys of glee within her.

He was a pervert, God, he was such a pervert. This had all started off to annoy her, but the more he watched her work, the more difficult it became for him, he never knew he was this messed up in the head, he found it hot, he found it extremely hot, to have her so focused on something that was not him, so focused on finishing her work, so focused on making him proud- the thought of this doing it because he asked her to was such a turn on- Wooyoung you need help.

Almost an hour later of watching her, playing with her pens and rearranging her notes, his phone rang and he sprang in joy, though he cleared his throat when she side-eyed him (of course he was glad someone was calling him, he'd been sitting here bored to death for an hour, only because he loved her endlessly), leaning closer he smacked a wet kiss against her warm, soft cheek, ignoring her when she slightly shoved him away.

"I'll be back in a second, be a good girl and don't get distracted."

A faint "I'm always a good girl", caught his ear as he walked out of the room, picking up the call, starting with an "I hate school" only to receive an earful from Hongjoong for 'distracting his own girlfriend' - the NERVE of this man! How dare he accuse him of such blasphemy! He was a good boy, and an even better boyfriend- so much so that he had spent almost 40 minutes arguing with him. Only realised how long it had taken when he ended the call.

Jogging back to the room he turned the corner and gasped- AGAIN!? What- was she sleeping? With a huff he walked over to her, ready to wake her up, hand pausing right above her shoulder when he realised that everything was neatly packed- oh, she had finished. Her laptop was turned off, her notes were stacked aside, her pens were in the case and all the checkpoints on her neon-bright sticky notes were marked off- his girl really did make him proud.

"Hey...let's get you to bed, yeah?" He felt her stir in her sleep, smiling when she refused to move, only helping him when he picked her up, her arms wrapping around his neck even though she was 'asleep'. What a brat! He looked down only to find her snuggling closer to him, she didn't pull away when he laid her down- only grabbed his shirt and tugged him closer as he chuckled, adjusting himself closer to her, he pulled the covers, feeling her move closer to him, as he placed his chin on top of her head, arms wrapping around her frame, almost asleep until he heard her mumble something against him.

"Hmm? Did you say something?"

There was silence for a moment before he heard a muffled sound, her warm breath tickling his neck as she mumbled,

"Gotta work Gotta make that money, make purse-"

A cackle broke past his lips as he squeezed her closer, earning a giggle from her, as he began singing along to her mumbling, glad that if he had to end up with someone, it was a lovable, adorable brat like him;

"Got a fur coat, so I make it purr Give 'em whiplash when they see me earn"

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @the-kpop-simp @mlysalt @spooo00oky @slaayysis

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raccoonscupoftea · 6 months ago

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🎮A Gamers profession

Timeskip!Kenma Kozume X F!Y/n

Summary: Y/n and Kenma are a couple, also living together. While Kenma is streaming and struggling with a game, he soon admitted to need help from you, a professional game breaker.

Warnings: Nerd talk, SFW, possible grammar mistakes, cause english is not my native language.

| MASTERLIST | REQUESTS |

//----//----//----//

You love your job. It's fun, well paying and not so stressful. Kenma, your boyfriend, also likes your job, but sometimes he just wants you to stuff your face with a pillow when he's playing, especially when he's livestreaming.

You often get to know the next top game before everyone else. You get information on a game while it's still in the making and you have to play the game for endless hours before it's officiall release.

You're not designing the game or anything. No, you're here to break the game into pieces, testing limits, testing the code, testing AI. If it breaks, then the developers have more work to do. Or they simply just decide it is going to be a 'feature'. It's their choice. You just deliver the bugs to them.

So, then why does kenma want to shut you up sometimes?

Because of your job, you have developed a very good sense for game mechanics, attack patterns and the more advanced stuff on how a game is build. When Kenma encounteres a boss, he just knows you could beat it in a few minutes. He knows you could rush to an over the top overpowered boss and never get hit once, thou it would take longer to beat it.

It's when Kenma's visibly is frustrated, staring at his screen with an unhealthy posture, you then sometimes get up from your couch and take a look at what he's struggling with. As soon as you got into frame the viewers will start to spam the chat with messages about you.

Mostly just spamming your name but others will write absurd things like "mama's here to help" or "the professional is watching"

You just have to stand behind the chair and kenma starts to tell you to not say anything.

"Don't you dare tell me, I want to find it out myself" he complains and you just put up your hands "I didn't do anything, I'm just watching, but tell me if you need help"

So far he never needed help from you. He of course is an intelligent and very good gamer himself. Never have you doubted him.

___

You're currently on your own pc in a separate Office in your and Kenma's home. With a switch controller in your hands and feet up on a footrest, you happily enjoy playing some animal crossing on the bigger screen of your gaming setup.

Today's quiet cold so you're wearing a wearable blanked with a hoodie combined. It looks like a cat. On your table is a steaming hot tea, waiting to be cooled down a little. You were fishing all around the island in game to get the last fish of the museum collection, but the sporadic waves of tiredness are definitely not doing you a favour when it comes to pressing the right button at the right time. The game definitely knows how to get you so relaxed you could fall asleep right then and there in your gaming chair.

Another wave made you a little more tired than the usual waves. This time you had doze off for a few seconds before jolting back awake and continued your fishing spree. Work definitely was a bit to much with the winter holidays coming up and a lot of new games wanting to be released in early spring. Is also added up to your tiredness.

You glanced over to the time on your Pc and realised it's only 4pm, definitely to early to sleep now. You also know that Kenma was streaming for an hour now, since he always starts at 3pm.

Thou you don't learn from your mistake to play animal crossing while nearly dozing off and just continued, but rather than fishing you instead decided to continue to decorate the island.

It went well for the first hour. You made a plan and checked on the internet if there's the suitable furniture for it. The first decorations had been placed on their right spot, paths has been made but just a few minutes after the first hour, the tiredness has claimed you back.

While you were in the office relaxing every bone to a complete flat line, the person in the other office was nearly about to destroy a keyboard. The boss he was fighting was beating kenma every time to 0 HP. Kenma had stopped yesterday's stream in a near rage quit but today he had to beat it to get further in the game. He hasn't got past the boss and was getting more and more frustrated as well as confused. Sometimes he swears the boss just doesn't take damage and gets a massive attack bonus. Chat is convinced the boss wasn't beatable and was begging to kenma to bring out the game breaker, aka you.

Of course, he denied it at first but after an hour of trying and dying he finally gave up. Without a word he placed down his headphones, pushed his microphone back a little bit and walked out of the frame. His viewers were ecstatic and surprised that he'll need help from you.

As kenma was busting open the door to your office, the loud noise of the door made you jolt up from your chair. Your hair went places and the hoodie blanket went all the way up to your chin, telling kenma without a word that you were sleeping in your chair just now.

"I was definitely not sleeping" You stated in your defense with a sleep drunk voice, but Kenma did not believe you and smiled at how cuddly you looked. With a quick glance at the time you asked the streamer "Quit already? You're usually up till late at night"

Kenma placed his hands in the pocket of the black hoodie he's wearing and sighed, remembering why he's here in the first place "I think the game's bugged. I can't defeat the boss. I tried so many times" He slightly looked away, feeling a bit embarrassed about asking you.

At the word 'bugged' you stood up, placed the switch controller on the desk and walked over to him. You slipped your hands into his hoodie and took his hands in your own. "let's see what I can do"

The two of you went to his streaming room, but before you entered, the hood from your blanket hoodie went over your head to hide this atrocious mess of hair on your head. You quickly checked your appearance in the hallway mirror. As soon as the viewers got a glance at you and what you're wearing, they all typed in chat 'You're looking so cozy rn' 'where did you buy it?' 'looks so fluffy' 'I want to cuddle with you'

You waved at the camera to greed the viewers and kenma gestured you to sit down in his chair. You smiled at your boyfriend and placed your feet also on the chair, making you a cozy fluffy blanket ball.

He then quickly explained to you what he was doing and what was happening. Kenma then also pulled over another chair to sit down and watch you. You first tried your best max out attack and defence with his current equipment, but there wasn't even a slightest chance. You voiced out a small "Huh?" Before trying again.

The viewers could see on your face that something was up. You aren't a streamer and wasn't talking while playing the game and kenma knew to not disturb your concentration, but the viewers still seemed to enjoy watching you trying the best you could. It was the first time you were seriously playing a game with the intention to win and they were all very ecstatic as you tried to not get hit. One could tell how everyone was excited at this moment, the chat also was getting slower.

After half an hour, you had placed down the controller. The boss could hit the hero, because they weren't dodging anymore and the player dies in an instant. The question marks around your head were very visible. Something definitely is not right here. As soon as the game went to its pause menu, the viewers knew something serious it about to happen.

You grabbed the laptop from Kenma, booted it up, put in his password without a fail and went to the internet. The website from your work company appeared after a few clicks and at this moment Kenma realised what was happening.

He looked over to his camera and explained laughing "Guys, I apparently found a bug. Stuffs about to get serious now" The chat was then filled with suprised emojis. It didn't took 5 minutes and a donation came in.

Kenma glanced over to the donation site and read out loud "Thank you catlover51 for the..." He stopped a second as he saw the amount that was donated and was clearly surprised "Thank you for the 100$ and you had written down 'For Y/n, a little compensation gor having to work now' again thank you very much. You really didn't neet to donate so much"

As Kenma read the donation out loud you had began to smile behind the laptop sceen. Others then jumped onto the train as well and donated money from a single dollar to a little lager than 50$. Kenma was slightly overwhelmed my the sheer amount of donations that came in and couldn't stop thanking everyone, nearly shutting down the donation site so no one could waste more money on them. It was then you who calmed them down after finishing your research. You looked back to the camera and placed the laptop to the side "You don't need to pay me for this. It's my job and I love doing it. Also I get paid whenever I work, so I'm currently earning my money. But thank you for your concern" you smiled brightly at them before continuing to try out stuff in the game.

After some time nothing came out of the testing and you sighed. You glance over to your boyfriend, looking like a vet having to tell the owner some bad news. "You can't progress at this point, I'm sorry" His eyes widend "That's a joke right?" You just shook your head "Unfortunately not. You have found a very devastating bug, which stops you from killing the boss. As soon as an attack misses, the supposed damage gets stored and well... When the boss does hit you, then all of that stored damage gets released. That explains the bug with the one shot kill. This bug alone is manageable and already a known issue, but combined with the boss not taking any damage" you smiled at him with a sad face. "I'm sorry"

Kenma sighed and ruffled his hair "It's not your fault" he smiled and ruffled your hair as well. "Guess my save is busted then"

You took his hand in yours and looked him in the eyes. He squeezed your hand a little and looked back at you. There's a little spark in your eyes, telling him that there's something you could do "What are you up to?" He asked directly. Your eyes shift away, making you look innocent, scratching your cheek a little "I could force you out of the situation, by glitching you through a wall"

Usually kenma is against using glitches and exploits in his runs, but this is maybe the first occasion he'll consider it. He first looks at you with squinted eyes but then stood up "I'm going to the bathroom. Whatever you'll do, I'll don't know about it"

You're smile got bigger as he finished talking and went outside. He closed the door and after a little happy dance, you pressed onto respawn and forced the player to another part of the map. The viewers were watching your every step and were happy about you breaking a game infront of them.

As you were finished, you quickly saved the game and stood up, ready to leave.

"In my defence" you started talking into the camera a little bowed down to fit into the frame "I did not test this part of the game. Not my fault" You grabbed the open laptop and blew the viewers a goodbye kiss before you exited the streaming room.

On the way back to your own office, Kenma has finished his bathroom break. He grabbed your wrist before you could vanish into your room. He also grabbed the laptop and placed it on a sideboard. One hand of his wandered over to your waist, so he could pull you a little closer to him. "Thank you" he whisperd and gave you a little kiss on your cheek. "I'll make sure to finish today's stream a little earlier. Can't wait to cuddle you with this fluffy hoodie" he then again kissed your other cheek and headed back over to his room to see an alive character on a giant grassy field.

You on the other hand smiled and had to control your inner fangirl to not just scream and jump around. The viewers for sure could hear you if you were to loud.

You quickly grabbed Kenma's laptop and hid in your room, filling out a formula to get the new bug over to the Developers.

#haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x you #haikyu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x f!reader #haikyuu x female reader #kozume kenma #kenma kozume #kenma x reader #haikyuu kenma #hq kenma #kenma x you #kenma x y/n #kenma x female reader

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cobragardens · 1 year ago

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CORRECTED & UPDATED! Clothes + Equivocation = Romance:

The Husbands in 1793

EDIT: I made a significant error when I wrote this. As @goodjomans kindly points out in the comments to Part 2 of this essay (massive shoutout for this, goodjomans! also I love your name!), Aziraphale is the one who dresses the executioner in clothing like Aziraphale's original ensemble, not Crowley. This changes my conclusions about the meaning we can take from this scene!

On the one hand, mea culpa, y'all. I shall get on with eating my crow. On the other hand, I had to go through this frame-by-frame to catch which of the ineffable spouses puts Jean-Claude in his new togs, and the answer only lasts three frames. Here it is:

After Aziraphale changes his clothes, but before Crowley snaps his fingers and unfreezes time, there's a shot of the executioner over Crowley's shoulder, and he is now wearing a light coat with gold embroidery on the shoulders like Aziraphale's. Aziraphale arranges the executioner's death, not Crowley. So I feel like an idiot for missing it, but not a total idiot.

Let's discuss how this information changes what we can read from this scene! I'm going to leave my original text in place and edit with bold green. I can still stand by most of this essay, but this detail changes how I read the meaning of the husbands' communication at the end of this scene.

So we're all clear on the fact that the universe of Good Omens is an inescapable nightmare dystopia in which either of the husbands' merciless authoritarian regimes could be watching or listening to them at any time, yes? And that if either are caught 'fraternizing' with the other that means discorporation, torture, memory wipe, and/or death for either or both of them, yes?

Which means Crowley and Aziraphale can never speak or do anything openly to each other about their friendship or attraction or love. Everything they say and do has to have an innocuous meaning they can point to in case anybody ever sees or hears something Team Azcrow can't explain away. Walls (and ducks) have ears, and the price of slipping up--as we see in 1827--is heavy.

When a character says or does something that has two distinct meanings because they need to disguise what they really mean from one party but make their meaning plain to another, lit-nerds (and lit nerds🍃) call this equivocation. Equivocation is a kind of coded communication meant to pass hostile ears and eyes in plain sight but reach its intended recipient with its true meaning. The 1793 scene is jammed with it.

A lot of that coded messaging revolves around the clothes Crowley and Aziraphale choose in this scene, so--THESIS PARAGRAPH, BITCHES--we're going going to talk about how their clothes read to the people of this time period and location, what their clothes tell us about their characters, how their clothes help them equivocate, and what they're really saying with that equivocation. And Spoiler A-fucking-lert, it is ROMANTIC AF PRETTY GD ROMANTIC. Let's get nerdy!

We start with Aziraphale's beautiful champagne-gold and powder-pink ensemble.

This outfit would tell people of this time period 3 things about Aziraphale:

That he's insanely wealthy--These clothes would be silk, hand-embroidered with thread made with actual gold. Each individual garment could cost years' or even decades' worth of working-class wages and take a team of skilled artisans dozens to hundreds of hours to make.

That he's a fop--i.e., a man who loves fine clothes and dressing up and looking fancy. By the 1790s in England, once-fashionable foppishness was giving way to the Neoclassical 'Corinthian' style, and was considered effete. (Fun note: During this time period, effete did not automatically indicate gay, and pink was considered a masculine color, so while Az. is queering it up to the audience here, his clothes would not have read as gay or overtly effeminate to the other characters around him.)

Even though he's insanely wealthy, Aziraphale wears clothes that are decades out of fashion.

According to the Victoria & Albert Museum, "As the [18th] century progressed, the male silhouette slowly changed.[...] Coat skirts gradually became less full and the front was cut in a curved line towards the back. Waistcoats became shorter. The upper leg began to show more and more[...]. Shoes became low-heeled with pointed toes and were fastened with a detachable buckle and straps or ribbon[.]

Source

That description is not what Aziraphale's wearing. Judging by his heel height and the length of his waistcoat, Aziraphale is wearing a style that's at least a decade older than this:

And this is from 1765. The great crepes caper happens in 1793, almost 30 years later.

My inference: Just as he has in the modern period, Aziraphale has settled into a style he really likes and refused to let go of it long after it's gone out of fashion.

We'll come back to this set of Aziraphale's clothes in a bit, but we need to talk about Crowley's first, because Crowley's clothes in this scene help render a line he says later about this outfit very flirtatious and darkly romantic.

First, some background: What was considered acceptable attire for wealthy people in France changed pretty much overnight during the French Revolution after the storming of the Bastille in 1789 and the fall of the French monarchy. Instead of advertising wealth, clothes now had to advertise political allegiance, and they had to do so loud and clear. And if you didn't want to be murdered by the French First Republic, that political allegiance had fucking better be to the Revolution.

People started wearing a looooooot of super patriotic shit. And I mean it was like little kids on the 4th of July; clothes were red, white, and blue in any hue and garish combination and print. The cockade, a fabric rosette in the colors of the French flag, was required by law to be worn by men, and despite that was just as popular among women. To show solidarity with the laboring classes, the fabrics the wealthy wore went from embroidered silk in light Rococo colors (what Aziraphale is wearing) to sober neutrals without decoration in wool, cotton, and linen.

Now, the script note for Crowley's clothing in this scene is this:

But clearly there were some changes made between script and filming, because Crowley does not appear standing behind Aziraphale; he appears lounging.

And he's not dressed as a French peasant.

Here's how French peasants dressed in 1790:

Peasants at this time wore styles that distinguished them from the styles of the upper classes not just in materials, colors, or patterns, but in shapes. Full trousers and cropped boxy jackets in French flag colors were the marks of the laboring-class Revolutionary, and both styles were huge changes from hundreds of years of French fashion up to that point.

And that's not what Crowley shows up wearing. Crowley is wearing the knee breeches, stockings, waistcoat, and frock coat of a wealthy man, and in fact his clothes reference a very specific type of wealthy man.

In the 1790s, if you were an aristocrat who wasn't happy about the Revolution and you were so sure of your privilege that you would risk your life showing it, you wore black in mourning for the monarchy and in protest of the violence of its deposition. If you were an aristocrat who wanted to protest and you didn't want to be immediately murdered by the French First Republic, you wore a style called half-mourning, which was black with a colored coat.

Here's a picture from a 1790 fashion magazine of an aristocrat in half-mourning:

"The text accompanying the plate describes his ensemble as 'half-mourning,' referring to the aristocrats who lamented 'the diminished powers of the monarchy and [signaled] their willingness to die for the royal cause'" [emph. added]. [Source]

Notice: the shoes, stockings, breeches, waistcoat, and cravat are all black. You with me?

Because here's Crowley in 1793:

I've turned up the brightness and exposure in this image so he's more clearly visible against the stone, but I haven't warmed it up. He's wearing a coat that's a dark blackish red. Everything else, even his cravat, even his shirt, is black. (The black shirt is anachronistic, a lovely little nod to Crowley's refusal to wear angelic white.)

This is 179fuckin'3, y'all. Marie Antoinette is executed in 1793. It's 3 full years after that fashion plate up there in his bright red jacket, and that lil dude was already risking his neck way back in 1790. As we can see from the fact that the government are apparently now grabbing random wealthy-looking Englishmen off the street to murder without trial, the time for a man demon to be sauntering around Paris dressed in all black or even nearly all black is well past.

Crowley's also wearing a whole assload of huge silver buttons, which would have been flashy and tacky and frankly pretty weird in 1793 but very definitely an eccentric Rich Person Thing to do, bc regular buttons at this time were horn or wood and covered with the garment's fabric. The only man in France who could get away with this fancy aristo shit anymore was Robespierre himself, and only "devotion to the cause[...] excused Robespierre’s showy dress since he was perceived as a bridge between the politically empowered bourgeois deputies and the ardently antimonarchical unenfranchised classes." [Source]

So when Crowley teases Aziraphale--

--both of them are perfectly well aware that Crowley's outfit would get him just as killed as Aziraphale's.

And that's why Aziraphale's expression is annoyed when he has abandon his "standards" and change his clothes. Because Aziraphale's the one who needs the favor, Crowley makes him take one for the team and wear the goofy hat.

The clothes Az. changes into here still tell people that he's rich, but they also say he's a hardcore Revolutionary. The red jacket in a current cutaway style, the cockade and sash, and the bonnet phrygien (the red garden-gnome cap) all announce this guy is a huge supporter of the Revolution. His clothes are all still aristocratic in shape and materials (and he keeps his now-unfashionably frilly lace cravat), but he's no longer flaunting obscene wealth in a city filled with angry starving people, and the gnome cap says he's in solidarity with the working classes even if he isn't one of them.

Once he restarts time, Crowley is not leaving that prison cell safely without either changing his clothes or taking Aziraphale with him, because Crowley looks like a rich asshole protesting the fall of the monarchy--which is frankly exactly the kind of thing he'd show up wearing to the Bastille during the Reign of Terror (just like he wears athleisure in Heaven). But Aziraphale's new appearance covers for them both: if the rich-looking guy with no cockade and wearing all black under his almost-black coat is in with this other guy who's obviously a Revolution fanatic, then the rich guy's probably okay, right? He just forgot his sash at home or something. Bees.

Something else happens when Az. changes, too. Look at Aziraphale's new dress from a different angle:

Half-mourning is a white shirt, but a black cravat, so this isn't half-mourning. He's wearing three different badges of the Revolution to make up for the fact that Crowley looks like a Satanic libertine (which tbf he is), but Aziraphale's new ensemble is black and dark red.

Y'all. Aziraphale changes into Crowley's colors.

Now, this is a more fashionable and higher quality version of what the executioner is wearing, so Aziraphale has very plausible deniability here; if anyone ever pulled him up on it, he could say he just copied our man Jean-Claude.

But let me show you what English fashion looks like right now:

This is a French painting of a wealthy Frenchman, but he's wearing the English 'Corinthian' style. It was painted in 1795, so this would have been the very cutting edge of fashion in England in 1793, and the fabrics and colors look right at home in Revolutionary Paris. (He's wearing the cockade on his hat, btw.)

Look at all that angelic white! The buttery almond of the buckskin breeches, the golden kidskin gloves, the rich tan of the riding boots! The blue of the greatcoat! All colors we know Aziraphale prefers!

And yet this is what Aziraphale chooses:

We know from the entire rest of the show how very particular about his clothes Aziraphale is. And yet 150 years before he (accidentally) admits in words that he's Crowley's friend, Aziraphale wears Crowley's colors to take him to lunch to say thank you for a rescue.

When we decide whether a character's speech or action is equivocation, one of the things we check is whether equivocation (and deception generally) is something that character does elsewhere in the text, which, with Aziraphale, hahahahaha, DUH. He's already using equivocation in this scene.

The lunch date itself is equivocation on Aziraphale's part. Aziraphale tries to thank Crowley for the rescue, but Crowley says,

So Aziraphale says,

No more words like "thanks" or "rescue" used, but a couple hours of good food and drink and conversation, Aziraphale hopes, will express the gratitude toward Crowley it's not safe to speak aloud. With this, Crowley and Aziraphale explicitly establish that they are equivocating for each other's safety and using coded communication--immediately before Aziraphale changes into Crowley's colors.

So yes, Aziraphale may well copy the executioner's clothes. But consider: When a character who can't speak or act openly says or does something that has two or more possible meanings, this can be read as equivocation.

We don't get a face reaction from Crowley about Aziraphale's new 'fit, so we can't be sure how he feels about this. But this whole scene is, even on its surface, about 1) the meaning clothes transmit to a viewer ("Oh good Lord," says Aziraphale when he sees what Crowley's wearing) and 2) how to show gratitude and appreciation when you can't speak of them openly. And we know Crowley notices clothing and clothing colors, because look at what he wears, like, ever. So it's very reasonable to presume he notices Aziraphale wearing his colors, and it fits well with both the rest of Crowley's actions in this scene and with his being very hurt and angry when Aziraphale later characterizes their interactions as "fraternizing."

Right, so we've covered what's going on with the husbands' clothes, and we've looked at two examples of equivocation on Aziraphale's part, viz., lunch and his change of colors. (Here's an example of equivocation on Crowley's part as well.) Now let's look at that super interesting thing Crowley says about Aziraphale's first outfit.

Here's the line:

Crowley follows up here on earlier lines in which he teases Aziraphale for coming to Reign-of-Terror Paris for crepes: "Dressed like that?" meaning Aziraphale was guaranteed to get arrested dressed like an aristocrat. The top layer of equivocation is always an innocuous meaning: the plausible deniability meant for the hostile/unsafe listeners. That's Meaning 1.

But "Dressed like that, s/he's asking for trouble" means two other things, too. It's a veeerrrrry familiar phrase, isn't it? We've all heard that arrangement of words in that order before. It's used when people think someone (usually but not always a woman) is dressed to invite sexual attention.

How do we know we're supposed to take this modern meaning from this phrase? This is how:

We have learned in literally the previous sentence to this one that rain has not been invented yet. The only two humans in existence have just left the Garden. Balloons definitely do not exist yet, humans couldn't tell you what lead is, and yet this is a phrase Crowley uses and Aziraphale understands. This tells us, the audience, in the very first line of the very first scene with these characters, that their speech is anachronistic and modern, and that we are to understand their phrasing in its contemporary sense.

So. When Crowley says "Dressed like that, he was asking for trouble" in 1793, we should read that in the context of the scene and in the senses the phrase carries to us today.

And since Crowley is using a phrase that means the executioner is dressed to invite sexual attention, and the executioner is wearing clothes identical to Aziraphale's, then Crowley is necessarily telling Aziraphale that when Aziraphale was wearing those clothes--those frilly, effete, unfashionable-for-decades clothes that nobody else likes and the French now murder people for wearing--that was, in Crowley's view...provocatively sexy. Meaning 2.

"Dressed like that, s/he was asking for trouble" is also what people say to justify violence, especially sexual violence against women and queerphobic attacks against men perceived as gay or just 'insufficiently' 'masculine'. In fact justifying assault is likely the most common way this phrase is used today by a wide margin. Meaning 3.

Crowley's joke isn't even really a joke in this sense; it's a vicious barb. And, because it must, it sounds like it's at Aziraphale's expense: You wore the wrong clothes, you weren't careful enough to guard yourself against the men who want to do you harm, so you deserved the trouble you got. Meaning 1.

Except remember: Crowley is also dressed for trouble. And Aziraphale is aware of this. Crowley's 'fit would be almost as offensive to the Revolutionary French of 1793 as Aziraphale's Rococo pastels, and probably just as likely to get him arrested and murdered by the state if he weren't making letting Aziraphale keep him safe by wearing the cockade and the silly hat. Crowley's not saying anything about Aziraphale here that he's not also saying about himself; and as we know from Aziraphale's initial "Oh good Lord" when he turns around and sees Crowley's black and red half-mourning (with extra black and gobs of silver), Aziraphale knows it.

Then why the rapey joke, Crowley?

This is fucking why:

Crowley rocks up at the Bastille just in time to witness some grubby fucker assault his friend. Assault the person Crowley will greet 15 seconds after this as angel.

Crowley's first act after freeing Aziraphale is to send this dude to his death. Nope! Aziraphale is the one who arranges to have the executioner killed in the clothes he would have killed Aziraphale for wearing. He takes Jean-Claude's ability to speak (but not to make sounds, interestingly! Jean-Claude can still whimper, Jean-Claude can still cry!) so the executioner can't tell anyone about the 'mixup.' It's unclear which of them blocks the executioner's power of speech. The vicious joke about assault in Meaning 3 isn't at Aziraphale's expense at all. It's not You wore the wrong clothes, so you deserved the trouble you got. It's If this guy thinks you deserve trouble for wearing the wrong clothes, he can eat his own rules.

And that's the other piece of evidence that, along with Crowley's ensemble, shows us the audience and Aziraphale which meanings Crowley intends with his equivocation. Meaning 1 is cancelled out by Crowley's clothes. That leaves Meanings 2 and 3.

Crowley and Aziraphale share clothes as a common interest. They don't have the same style, but they're both aware of current fashions, and Heaven and Hell aren't. You can't tell me Hastur or Uriel would recognize the significance of Crowley saying "Dressed like that, he's asking for trouble" about someone else while wearing black stockings and cravat and waistcoat himself. And that means Anything the husbands communicate to each other through clothing choices goes undetected by their masters.

SO. With all this in mind, let's go through the 1793 scene again and look at what their clothes help them say without words.

Concluded in Part 2!

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens s2 #good omens costumes #good omens fan theory #good omens meta #good omens analysis #aziracrow #azcrow #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #azicrow #good omens 1793 #good omens 1984 #good omens clothes and equivocation

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rottingworship · 6 months ago

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Beg and Bargain

The Proxies x Fem!Reader | Chapter Three

Chapter One | Chapter Two

Summary: Things seem to go sideways fast, but thankfully you are able to eat beforehand.

Warnings: Mean Toby, name calling, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, pet names (love, my love)

A/N: this was fun, so fun to write! I can't say I did it all by myself, I did have some help from @babehlockdemdoors with some ideas for Toby!

Word Count: 3.2k

“What did she say?” Brian looks at Tim with curiosity.

“She made John kill himself.”

“O-O-Obviously.” Toby rolls his eyes.

“She also has a fucking roommate–” Brian goes to interupt him, Tim puts up his hand. “She controlled her. Convinced her everything was fine.”

“Her own roommate?” Brian cocks a brow.

“I also learned that John was not a great man.”

“M-most pigs aren't.”

“He was going to kill her. And he somehow knew about her abilities. And so does her roommate. But she says her roommate wouldn't tell anyone.” Tim is giving them everything he learned. “She had never used her ability for bad, so she says. I don't know what that really means though.”

There's quite a huge gray area. They aren't sure how gray you are. Nothing is black and white. Something is off with you.

“If I c-could control people-” Toby starts.

“We don't wanna know what you would do, Toby.” Brian warns. “Got anything else?”

“She's very obedient.” Tim remarks. “It’s… odd. She doesn't really question much. She was upset about the blindfold, but I kinda see why.” He pauses and looks at Toby. “Can you get in her phone?”

“Already tr-tried.” Toby shrugs. “I don't kn-know the code. She has a couple n-notifications from a ‘Val’.”

As he says that, your phone goes off. Toby pulls it from his pocket and looks at it. Another message from Val is visible on the lock screen.

Hey what the fuck was that about earlier?

Another one comes through.

Who was with u?

Toby leaves it alone. He doesn't think anything about it. None of them do. The front door opens and you step onto the porch wearing a baggy shirt down to your thighs and your feet are bare.

“What are you three still doing out here?”

_-_-_-_-_-_

Your bare feet hurt against the old wooden porch. You ignore it. You watch the three of them, your arms wrapping around yourself.

“A-are you not co-cold?” Toby cocks his head at you.

You nod at him. “Freezing. Please come in. I have a question.” You turn around and walk back inside where it's slightly warmer. Goosebumps cover your skin and your arms drop to your sides. You sigh.

Brian walks in first. “What's going on?”

“I'm famished.” As you finish your sentence Brian goes to open his mouth. “And don't say eat something around here. I already tried that.”

Tim and Toby walk in and you hear a muffled, disgustingly inappropriate song. Toby, not thinking, takes a phone from his pocket and you realize it's Val’s ringtone. It's your phone. Your eyes narrow.

“Wha-what is this ringtone?” Toby scrunches his nose.

“It's none of your business! You still have my phone on you!?” You are sure these men are going to make you pull your hair out. The phone stops ringing and you place yourself in front of Toby. It goes off again. A text this time. Toby looks at it. You try to peek at the phone but Toby is quick to move. You follow him. “Toby! What does it say?”

“It’s locked, I ca-can’t read all of it.”

You look at him with half lidded eyes, full of fucking rage. “What can you read?”

Your sudden anger seems to catch them all off guard. Toby reads what he can see from your lock screen. “It’s fr-from Val. She says ‘Saw J-John on the news. He’s dead, th-they say-’ It cuts off.”

Another ding. Another message from Val.

“She is ca-calling the police.”

You have had enough. You snatch the phone before Toby can stop you and take off. Three against one, your odds don’t look too good. You call her back without even unlocking the phone and run from Brian, Toby, and Tim.

“Get back here!”

You end up in the kitchen, behind the table, surrounded by them by time Val answers.

“Hey!” Everyone freezes as you speak. “How’s it going?” You try to sound enthused. Your eyes hit Tim and he mouths for you to put it on speaker. You comply.

“You’re out of breath.” She states it, her concern is palpable. “Where are you?”

“I’m on vacation. Just having fun-”

“With the man from earlier?” She sounds less stressed. But still concerned for your well being. When you take a second to respond, she speaks again. “Love,” She starts, “are you okay?”

“Yes.” You swallow hard. “I’m fine. I’m- I’m trying to enjoy myself.”

“You aren’t reading my messages,” Val is devastated, “and you- you used your mind powers on me. You promised you wouldn’t do that-” You pout, thankful she cannot see your face. You did promise that. “Please, I need to know that I don’t need to call the police.”

“You don’t.” You try to sound as calm as possible. “I’m o-”

“What about John?” Val’s tone… She sounds worried about him. Your face contorts. She continues, “He’s dead. They found him in the woods, a self-inflicted gunshot wound.”

“What does that have to do with me?” You are gripping your phone. Your eyes move up from the screen and towards the men surrounding you. They are all frozen, tense, waiting for you to slip up. There is silence.

“Well, he moved a while ago… Why did he come back?” There is a pause. “Did he hurt you?”

“Val,” Your voice is low and level, but definitely able to break at any second. “I do not want to think about John on my vacation. I’m trying to relax.” Really, you are, it’s incredibly hard though.

“Okay… If you’re okay, I’m just going to forget about what happened earlier. Please, be safe this week. If something happened to John… Just be safe. Oh! Before you go!” She sounds happier now, thinking you’re safe. “Are you really out of breath because of that man from earlier?” You feel your face burning as she asks. You can practically see her brows wiggling as she asks that. “I do think it was time for you to move on! I hope this helps your-”

“I have to go! Bye, love you!” You hang up. Your eyes are wide and your face is hot. You let out a nervous laugh and hope they did not even notice Val’s question.

They did.

“Helps y-your what?”

“None of your business!” You shout. You hold the phone in your hand, waiting for them to ask for it back. You are not giving it up unless they ask. “Sorry, she’s overbearing.” You roll your eyes, “She’s nosy, always has been.” Your stomach growls. “Can I please get some food? I’ll buy it, you can blindfold me, I don’t care. I haven’t eaten since before-” Since before John died. Or was murdered… By you.

“You’re gonna buy it?” Brian asks.

“Yeah! Hold on!” You walk off, phone still in hand, causing the three to follow you. You walk towards the couch, where you laid your bag (and dirty clothes), and rummage through your stuff. You pull out a wallet. “You’re lucky I have this. I’m sure if my ID were found somewhere we’d be fucked.”

‘We’. Not just them. ‘We’.

“I have money, I’ll buy my food. I can even go shopping if you want?” You cock your head. “Not now of course.” You motion to yourself. “But eventually.”

“We don’t usually stay in one place for too long, it may be useless grocery shopping.” Tim informs you.

Your mouth forms an ‘o’.

“I’ll take you to get food.” Brian states it, it isn't an offer. You feel awkward suddenly. You aren’t very comfortable around any of them, but at least Tim you know most (which still isn’t a lot). Toby picked twigs out of your hair. Brian has not done much for you, or with you. “I’ll be outside waiting.”

You nod, swallowing hard. You remember your dirty clothes and ask Toby about them, before heading out. He points towards the laundry room and you take them back quickly. You promise you’ll wash them when you get back. You slide some sweatpants and a jacket on and then your crocs. Your feet don’t feel as bad anymore, but you are still sore. You can mostly only think about your hunger though.

You walk outside and immediately cold air hits you. Brian is waiting beside the car, blindfold in hand. You make your way towards him and take in a shaky breath. As soon as you reach him, you turn around and let him put the blindfold on you. He helps you inside the car, and then he gets in. You struggle briefly to buckle. His hand touches yours and you tense. He helps you with the seatbelt.

“Thanks,” You mumble and look ahead (you hope you are looking ahead). “Would hate to get pulled over while being unbuckled.”

“I think that is the least of our worries.” You can feel Brian’s eyes on you. He starts the car, and you shift. “What did you want?”

“Oh,” You place your hands on your thighs, “I'm not that picky. Just some chicken nuggets and some fries would be fine.”

Brian nods, but you don’t see it. You hope he takes you to get food. And isn’t taking you somewhere to kill you. But then again, maybe that wouldn’t be too bad considering your situation.

_-_-_-_-_-_

Brian is sitting across from you. You are at McDonald’s, eating your chicken nuggets. You can feel your mood shifting as you eat. Your hunger is disappearing. You don’t feel so irritated. Brian watches you eat. He isn’t saying much of anything, and all you can feel is his eyes staring directly at you. It’s getting hard to ignore.

“Is everything okay?” You ask him, looking up. You wipe your mouth, “Is something on my face?”

He sucks in air and shifts in his seat. He shakes his head, “No, no, nothing on your face.” As he says that, you cock your head as if asking ‘then what?’ and he hesitates. He is thinking. “You don’t question much of anything… Do you?”

You let out a short laugh and take a sip of your coke. “Brian, I’ve never not been in control. I don’t know if you gathered that… But- I just-” You bite the inside of your bottom lip. “This doesn’t feel real…”

“I assure you,” He stares at you, suddenly seeming… gone, “it is real.”

You nod. You do not verbally respond. Quickly, you finish eating. Once you stand up to throw your food away, Brian stands too. He follows close behind you. As you throw your food away you hear footsteps approaching fast. Your name is the next thing you hear. Brian places a hand on your hip immediately. You turn around and spot Val. You want to bring your palm to your forehead. You cringe.

“Val!” You shoot Brian a look, trying to get him to release you, before looking back at Val. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m getting food…” Her voice trails off. Her bright green eyes look up at Brian and she starts to open her mouth. She pauses. “Who is this…?” She obviously knows it is not the man you had at your apartment.

“My friend.” You smile at her.

“How many ‘friends’ do you have?”

“Three.” You blurt it out, without thinking. Brian’s grip only tightens. You try to hold back an awkward laugh.

“My love,” Val’s lips purse, “what the fuck?” She whispers. “This is not like you… at all. Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nod, smiling at her. “Yes, positive!” Brian’s hand gives you a gentle squeeze, telling you ‘good job’. Your knees grow weak. “But, I do have to go soon-”

“Wait!” She puts a hand up, “Promise me, if something goes sideways, you’ll get help?”

Your face contorts. “Sideways?” You are reeling. “What are you on about? Look,” You grab her hand, “Val, I am okay. Everything is okay. I’ll talk to you again soon. But, I’m-”

“Getting over some past stuff with John?” As soon as she says it, your face twists again. “Y’know? He was so… Odd. I mean, I would go throw myself on some men too, if he was who I had been stuck with for God knows how long!”

Brian’s hand, still resting on your hip, threatens to move. You quickly place your hand over his, keeping him there. “See! Now you’re getting it!” You try to reassure her. “I’ll try to stay in touch, but just know… I love you.”

Val lets you know she loves you too and heads back to her table. You and Brian head back out to the car and you sit down in the passenger seat. You look ahead. Lying is really taking it out of you.

“Thanks for doing that for me… taking me to get food.” You rub up and down your thighs. Brian nods and starts the car. You just want to sleep. You feel like that isn’t happening anytime soon.

_-_-_-_-_-_

You are right.

It’s you and Toby alone at the cabin. You really wanted to nap, but now Toby won’t leave you alone. You are facing the ceiling, lying on the couch. Your breathing is slow and your eyes are shut. All you can hear is Toby talking, it’s almost lulling you to sleep. Almost.

“Fucking bitch!”

His voice rings through the cabin. You have never sat up so fast in your life. Your legs swing over the couch and you narrow your eyes at Toby. He continues talking.

“Whoa, whoa-” You put a hand up. “What did you call me?”

Toby stops. “Oh, that was- I-I have tourettes.” He says it like you should already know. “Any-Anyway, like I w-was saying, we need to- to make sure you are capable of pro-protecting yourself.”

Your fists ball up, and immediately unclench. “Toby, did you forget I could, I don't know, mind control people?” You cock a brow at him. “I don’t need to be able to get away. But, I think I could still get away. Without my ability. I got away from you, Brian, and Tim earlier.” Toby stands up from the end of the couch. He walks off. “Okay, whatever…” You lean back and close your eyes again.

Something clicks. You furrow your brows and when footsteps reach the door, and you hear it lock, you sit up and your eyes pop open. Toby stands a few feet from you, a hatchet in each hand. You are sure your eyes are going to pop out of your head. You scoot over on the couch and your jaw drops.

“Toby… What are you-”

“Run, fuh-fight, or hide.” It’s all he gives you.

You leap up from the couch and take off towards somewhere. You have no clue where anything is. You know the kitchen and living room. That is it. You make your way into the kitchen and slam into the back door. It’s locked. You have absolutely no time to unlock it. A hatchet slams beside your head and a scream rips from your throat. You beg for him to stop.

He does not.

You rip away from him, and sprint down the short hallway. You slam into one of the rooms and head for the window. It will not budge. Tears fill your eyes. You are begging and screaming for him to stop.

“Fucking co-coward!”

“Toby!” You scream as you fall back. His eyes lock with yours. He does not look away. You inhale sharply. You cannot fuck this up. “Stop.”

Toby freezes.

“Drop your hatchets.”

He listens again. Your head begins to hurt.

“Do not fucking move.”

You feel it before it happens. Your nose is about to bleed. You tear out of the room faster than you had ever moved before. You head to the front door. You unlock it and swing it open. You step onto the front porch, your feet hit the cold wood and you hiss. Something is coming from the woods. Your heart is pounding into your ribcage.

You make out Tim’s jacket before anything. You rush towards him. When you notice his mask, you pretend that it’s normal. That’s how you first met them, it’s not hard to connect the dots. He was out ‘working’. He is slightly bloody, but definitely looks more welcoming than Toby.

“Tim!” You scream, nose gushing blood at this point. “Tim, it’s Toby!” You reach him and grab his arms. “Help me!” Your voice is breaking. “Please-”

Tim reaches for you, his hands grab your waist. He cocks his head at you and your eyes meet his. There is something different about him. That’s not Tim. You really think you are going to faint. His grip on you tightens and you feel his fingertips digging into your skin through your shirt. You struggle to get out of his grasp.

“Toby!” You are yelling for him again. You release him from your mental grasp and rush towards the house. ‘Not Tim’ is hot on your trail. The front door almost swings off of its hinges and Toby stomps onto the front porch. “Please, you have to stop! Something has happened to Tim!” You point behind you.

Toby easily jumps off the porch and begins to stalk towards you. You can’t breathe. Tears start coming. You are sure Toby is going to kill you. You stumble back and rush away from both of the men. You are sobbing. Something slams into your back and you hit the ground. You land beside a stump. A knee is in your back, your cheek against the cold, hard dirt. Your nails are digging into the dead grass.

“L-look at you.” Toby clicks his tongue. “So- So pathetic.” You look at him the best you can, but you can’t see him. Not fully. “Can’t do-do much without your po-power, huh?” Tears cover your face, falling from your cheeks onto the dirt.

You see, out of the corner of your eye, his hatchet raising. You scream. You have never screamed so much in your life. He brings it down. Another loud plea rips from your chest. The hatchet hits the stump.

You want to sigh. You let out a strangled sob and you can’t breathe. You are sucking in dirt as you try to catch your breath. The knee suddenly moves off your back and you are grabbed. You are flipped over and your back hits the ground this time. Toby is leaning over you. He is inches from your face.

“Please!” You scream, “I’m-” You can’t think. “I’m sorry!”

Toby tenses. “We-weak.” He mumbles. You try to cover your face. Your hands are stopped by Toby’s knees. He is restraining you. “Fucking weak.”

“Toby!” You hear Tim. “Get off of her!” He is running towards you. You are uncontrollably sobbing. Toby doesn’t protest. He grabs his hatchets and leaves you. He walks off into the woods and you look at Tim. “Are you-” You shake your head. When he reaches for you, you scoot away. Tim freezes, his eyes widening. “What did I-”

You get up. You run straight back into the cabin. Tim does not chase you. You hide in the bathroom. You close and lock the door. You sit on the floor, back to the door and you cry. You look at your phone and cry. You know you can’t really explain what happened to anyone, so you just sit and cry.

Once you finally catch your breath and can think somewhat straight, you figure it’s best to sleep in the bathroom tonight. If your mind lets you sleep at all…

#creepypasta #marble hornets #tim wright x reader #brian thomas x reader #ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #marble hornets masky #marble hornets hoodie #masky x reader #hoodie x reader #creepypasta x reader #marble hornets x reader #x reader

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crosshairlovebot · 2 months ago

Text

bewitching mr. batchbury / crosshair x f!reader

pairing: crosshair x f!reader

description: ever since you met him and he ignored you, mr. batchbury has completely infuriated you. but as you spend time with the batchbury's as their sister's companion for the social season, your feelings for him become confusing and you cannot get the handsome silver-haired man out of your head.

REGENCY AU

word count: 8,649

warnings: none. kissing (making out, neck kisses). secret crushes. hate to love. misunderstandings. crosshair being annoying.

after writing regency hunter i knew i had to write regency crosshair too :') this exists in the same universe as hunter's piece so there are allusions to his romance :) this was so fun to write! crosshair has always been mr darcy coded to me so there's definitely an influence from p&p! i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

also posted this on ao3. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated.

PART ONE

Mr. Carlisle ‘Crosshair’ Batchbury was completely and utterly infuriating. It did not matter that he was cripplingly handsome, uniquely distinguished by his strange grey hair, tall and lean stature, and a smattering of a port wine birthmark over his right eye – his personality was maddening.

And yet, you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Acting as a companion to his little sister, Meg Batchbury, for London’s social season, you had spent many hours in the presence of the infamous Batchbury Brothers.

After returning from the war where they had started as lowly soldiers trained under a Commodore of the Royal Navy, they had made their fortune by collecting a wealth of prize money with an unbroken streak of successful battles. The band of brothers had been the talk of the ton, their rise from rags to riches captivating every gentleman and woman – but it was the mamas and their daughters who found themselves completely taken by them. When they’d ascertained the brothers had only enlisted to secure a future for their sister, their hearts were all of a flutter – for handsome, brave soldiers who were family men made perfect husbands.

The eldest Batchbury – Hunter – was already married, much to their dismay. But that still left three viable brothers for them to sink their lacey fans and dance cards into. When they’d heard the Batchbury’s would be attending this year’s social season, cries of delight were heard across the ton.

As a favour to your friend – the eldest Batchbury Brother’s wife, you’d promised you would accompany Meg to various balls and act as her companion and confidant for the season. Meg had expressed her desire to attend this year, now that her brothers had returned home. She’d been regaled with tales of fancy parties, endless food and dancing, and wanted to experience it for herself.

“It’s…a little more than that, Meg,” you’d told her carefully, cautious of her ideas that had seemed to be formed naively. “The point of these balls and parties is for matchmaking.”

Meg had waved her hand, dismissing your words. “Oh, I am aware. But I’m not interested in such things at present.”

You’d frowned. “But attending the social season does send the message that you are interested.”

Meg just grinned ruefully and shrugged. “Then I’ll just do my best to avoid it.”

You had shaken your head, smiling along with her. You’d sighed with some relief, knowing you’d not have to try and steer her from unsuitable matches or chaperone strolls in Hyde Park and could just simply enjoy time spent at extravagant balls and luncheons.

You were past the age of eligibility and the thought of simply attending a London social season to enjoy it was simultaneously scary and exciting. To know there were no expectations on you from your own family or on Meg, it was freeing.

You had joined the Batchbury’s at their London residence, and from the very moment you set foot inside the newly acquired townhouse, your eyes were drawn to the youngest Batchbury brother, Crosshair.

You’d been welcomed enthusiastically by Meg, who had petitioned her brothers to attend the London social season, much to their behest. But they had been kind and amiable when you were first introduced. You hadn’t been sure what to expect, but you had been surprised at how large they all were, and their history as soldiers was clear with their injuries and the weathered look of their faces. You already knew Hunter, who’d just returned from his honeymoon and itching to return to the country to his wife, but Wrecker and Tech had all been a picture of politeness upon introductions, meeting you with manners that were clearly practised. But Crosshair had stood behind, arms crossed, a scowl etched into his brow with no sign of it disappearing. He’d immediately met you with hard eyes the colour of coffee that were so scrutinising you had flinched.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Batchbury,” you’d said as you curtseyed, trying not to be bothered by his gaze.

Mr. Batchbury had looked you up and down, brow remaining creased as he seemingly evaluated you before his eyes met yours for a moment before looking away from you without greeting. You’d been puzzled by his lack of manners, and then hurt by his rejection and then angry, for who was he to be judging you? He did not even know you. And from that moment, Mr. Crosshair Batchbury was a rude annoyance you endured only for his siblings, despite his handsomeness – which only added to your irritation.

How cruel, for such beauty to be wasted on someone so dreadful.

He held that same hard gaze now, watching you from the other side of the Kenobi’s ballroom. The room was filled with people, and a string quartet played a cotillion that had those on the dance floor that separated you from Mr. Batchbury bouncing lively to the music.

It was the final ball of the season, and at the request of Meg, she wanted all the brothers in attendance tonight and they were completely powerless to say no.

Being in such close quarters with the four brothers for the season meant you not only saw their brash, loud, clever and cunning natures, but also the immense love they had for their sister. Each brother was different, but it was obvious what connected them all was their strong sense of family and loyalty. You had observed it all.

Wrecker’s love was boisterous and loud and coupled with fierce hugs and booming laughter. Tech’s affection was more subtle, but you’d find it in the way he consumed knowledge with the intent to share, to provide answers to questions his family asked; prepared for any situation. Hunter’s care was gentle and warm yet with a firmness that was steadfast and immovable. Crosshair, despite your feelings towards the other less amiable parts of his personality, showed love quietly, often through gesture or merely listening. He would grumble at Wrecker’s affection, but never push it away. He would listen to Tech’s ramblings even when everyone had vacated the room. And when Hunter’s strength managed to wane, Crosshair would swoop right in, ready to support in however he could.

Seeing this kind of love juxtaposed with the other parts of his caustic, sharp and, quite frankly, snarky personality was what vexed you the most; knowing he had the capacity for such softness and kindness but chose not to use it.

And actively chose not to use it with you.

You sipped your champagne, meeting his gaze from across the dance floor, ignoring the warmth that ignited your rest at his gaze. He mirrored your movements with his own glass of brandy, and you couldn’t help but drop your gaze to his lips that lay gently on the rim of the glass and think back to that moment in the greenhouse at the Across the Stars Ball where they were anything but gentle on your own.

Prince Anakin Skywalker and his wife, Queen Padme Amidala held their annual ‘Across the Stars’ ball at their London palace and it was the event of the social season. Everyone who was everyone in the ton was invited, and that now included the Batchbury family – much to Meg’s delight and her brother’s chagrin.

Meg had been ecstatic upon receiving the invitation and begged for her brothers to accept so that she could attend. As the first ball of the season, it was the first time all the brothers would be seen by the eyes of the ton, and you watched on from your place in the drawing room as they argued about etiquette and dancing, of which they had little experience.

“If we go, we will be expected to dance and socialise,” Hunter told his brothers.

“Sounds like a marvellous time!” Wrecker grinned, rising to his feet from where he sat on the settee that he practically dwarfed.

“You don’t know how to dance, Wrecker,” Tech pointed out from the armchair, raising an eyebrow as he looked up from his book, a wooden cane he used to aid his walking lent against the side table. He pushed his spectacles up his nose. “None of us do except for Hunter, who had clandestine lessons in a garden maze with his now wife.”

The eldest Batchbury blushed, port wine stain darkening as both Meg and Wrecker giggled. You smiled too, a book open on your lap.

Mr. Crosshair Batchbury remained silent from his seat on the writing desk, where he was penning something diligently in a notebook with his non-wooden hand.

Perhaps one of the most admirable traits about Mr. Batchbury was that he taught himself how to write with his left hand after losing his right in the war. Meg told you that he had spent weeks holed up in his room alone, practising his script until it was perfect and unsmudged. It was quite remarkable, to be so determined.

Now, he observed his siblings with his steely gaze as he casually dipped the end of the quill in ink, raising and lowering the feathered tool gently in the pot, sparing it no glance.

You always wondered what he was writing in that notebook. He never seemed to be without it. It lived in the back pocket of his trousers, and you’d often found him in different places throughout the townhouse, writing in it.

Once, early in your stay, you’d seen him lounging in a bay window that overlooked the streets of London, one leg outstretched and the notebook leaning on the other he’d pulled up as he wrote in careful hand. You’d almost walked past him, but your footsteps had stopped on their own accord. The sun was hitting him just right, bathing him in a golden glow that made the silver strands of his hair glitter and the warmth of his brown skin radiate through the small alcove. He had on a cream-coloured shirt, sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms, the collar of it wide and its ties undone, scandalously revealing the dip in his lean chest. His left side was closest to you, and his hand was poised so the side of it didn’t drag over the graphite words he'd just penned. You could see his wooden hand rest on the book to keep it steady.

He barely fit in the small space, one foot of his long legs pressed flat against the wall opposite him and half bent at the knee. He didn’t look comfortable, but he never really did anywhere in the house. He always looked like he was trying to slot himself into the new life they’d acquired but could never really find the right position for it to work.

When you thought back to that tableau, you were sure that was the moment you realised just how handsome he truly was, and the moment your thoughts and feelings for the standoffish and biting Mr. Batchbury became all muddled.

Sensing your eyes on him, you watched him flick his gaze to yours. “What?”

You flinched as his hard brown-eyed gaze landed on yours with a piercing fierceness. “Nothing. My apologies.”

Mr. Batchbury looked at you, his eyes trailing over you before moving back to your face, studying it before he returned his gaze to his writing, pencil moving once again.

You swallowed as you watched his movements, and the words fell out of you before you could stop them. “What are you writing?”

Mr. Batchbury froze, and he looked at you with a scrutinising regard. “Why?”

“I’m just curious. You never send any letters, and whenever I see you, you’re always penning something.”

He narrowed his eyes at you and continued on, suddenly trying to bridge this distance between you that both puzzled and annoyed you. “It must be something you love.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

“What you’re writing.” Your face burned, but maybe if you found a connection; a common ground, then maybe this strange dynamic between you would end. “If you return to it every day, you must love it.”

Mr. Batchbury stared at you before slamming his notebook closed and standing up. You watched him as he sent you a scathing look, eyes hard and port wine stain a deep red. He brushed past you without another word before stalking away. You were shocked and completely and utterly confused. What had you said? What had you done? But your befuddlement just returned to the anger and disdain you’d already held, but now multiplied.

Mr. Batchbury was rude and unapproachable, nothing you did would change that. So, you were done being amiable towards him. No matter how attractive he was.

Coming back from your memory to the drawing room, you shut your book and stood, making your way across the room, nearing the writing desk.

“Perhaps I could give you all some lessons? So you can dance once or twice to keep up appearances. I would suspect that the quadrille would be easily mastered by former soldiers.”

Wrecker and Meg’s eyes lit up and they spoke simultaneously. “Would you?”

You smiled at them and nodded. “I would be happy to. Dancing is the best way to spend a party.”

“And build affection between partners,” Meg smiled, reciting something you’d told her.

“Well, yes, that too,” you smiled, and you saw something grey move in the corner of your eyes as Meg jumped up darted towards you to through her arms around you. “How wonderful! We can start lessons this afternoon, so we are ready for the ball on Saturday.”

“Whatever you want, Meg,” you gently untangled her from you and clasped her hands.

She grinned, squeezing your hands before turning to her brothers, of whom Wrecker and Hunter seemed genuinely happy for her. “Isn’t this exciting? A real ball!”

“Yes. It is most thrilling,” Tech kept his eyes on his book, his voice unenthused despite its sincerity, but it made you smile. You looked towards the writing desk and saw Mr. Batchbury’s scowl had only deepened, the quill in his hand unmoving and dripping ink on the page.

“Are you not excited too, Mr. Batchbury?” you slid over to the desk, eyes drifting down to the inked parchment as subtlety as you could manage, but Mr. Batchbury swiftly closed the notebook with a soft thud, preventing you from reading anything.

“It’s rude to impose your eyes on personal writings,” Mr. Batchbury’s raspy voice hissed at you. It was like a coiled snake, and it lit up your insides in the most improper way, wrapping itself around your bones and staying there long after you left his presence. His eyes met yours in a blazing stained gaze. He was so alluring, his face all angles and silver hair kept close to his head. There was a ghastly-looking scar on the side of his head he sustained during the war. His brother Wrecker had one too. But it did not detract from his good looks, at least not to you.

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes and instead slid him a look that showed your distaste. “My apologies. I had no idea of your writings being the personal kind. But you still haven’t answered my question Mr. Batchbury, and one might say that is rather rude too.”

Your back and forth with Mr. Batchbury no doubt tired everyone to no end, but no matter how hard you tried, you simply were incapable of ignoring his remarks. Something in you needed to put him in his place, but it only seemed to spur him on more, driving the wedge harder between you both. It no longer mattered how many times Meg had to step between you two, it did not do anything to change your behaviour towards each other. You could not stand Mr. Crosshair Batchbury, and he could not stand you.

He scoffed in response. “I won’t be attending dancing lessons. Nor will I be attending the ball.”

“But you must!” Meg pleaded to her brother, but his coffee-coloured eyes only remained on you.

“What a shame,” you said, no disappointment in your voice at all. “But perhaps it’s best. No one will want to dance with someone so impudent and rude as you are anyway.”

Mr. Batchbury’s lip curled in a snarl before he pushed his chair back roughly, wooden legs screeching on the floorboards, snatched his notebook and stalked out of the drawing room.

“Must you provoke him?” Meg sighed. You watched the room’s remaining brothers share a glance at each other that you could never decipher.

You dropped your shoulders, suddenly feeling bad that you’d upset Meg. She was so lovely, like a little sister. You looked at her sullen face, her blonde hair swept into a braid and tied with a red ribbon – the Batchbury’s had seemed to adopt it as their family colour. She was so full of light.

“I’m sorry, Meg,” you said sincerely before holding out your hand. “Shall we learn the quadrille?”

That afternoon was spent teaching Meg and Wrecker how to dance a slew of dances that would be performed at the Across the Stars Ball including the quadrille, the cotillion, the scotch reel, the Naboo country dance and the waltz. Tech played the piano, unable to dance due to his injuries, and you paired with Hunter, who made the perfect partner for your instruction since he knew the dances already. Wrecker and Meg laughed as they stepped on each other’s feet and spun around. Their laughter was infectious, and you and Hunter and Tech laughed along too until you were all laughing so hard that you were unable to dance, and Tech was unable to play.

You caught your breath, hand on your chest as it heaved inside the confines of your corset, smiling at Meg as she pantomimed how ridiculous Wrecker had looked only minutes ago when you thought you saw a flash of grey hair up in the balconied eaves of the townhouse’s small ballroom. You frowned. Surely you were imagining such things.

It seemed as if the entire population of London was in attendance at the Across the Stars Ball, their ballroom was full of gentlemen and women, debutantes as well as members of the aristocracy and even parliament. Everyone was dressed in their finest gowns and suits coloured in rich navies and purples, gold and silver embellishments, fitting into the celestial theme perfectly. You swore you saw the elusive Duchess Satine Kyrze who rarely ventured from her country estate in Mandalorshire and even laid eyes upon Prince Reginald from the far-off Kingdom of Kamino, or Rex as he preferred to be called – the ton’s gossip mill had come to the conclusion that he was a close friend of Prince Skywalker.

You watched along with Tech as the Batchbury siblings – minus the youngest brother – took to the floor. Hunter and Wrecker took turns dancing with Meg, much to her delight and the scrutiny of the ton, but the Batchbury’s cared little for impropriety and more for their sister’s happiness. After lessons this week, they had taken to the dances fairly quickly and you smiled as they performed the steps as if they’d been doing them all their lives.

Hunter switched out with Wrecker, needing to catch his breath. You smiled at him.

“Are you missing the wild seas yet, Hunter?” you joked.

Hunter returned your smile. “Not even the decks of the Marauder could’ve prepared me for this.”

You laughed before Hunter excused himself for a drink. You sipped your champagne, listening to the whispers from those around you as they discussed the Batchbury’s debut at the most anticipated ball of the season.

“They’re a little…odd.” The voice dripped with pretentiousness from behind you, her tone all nasally.

You watched Wrecker lift Meg up and spin her around in an improvised turn that was not part of the choreography, both laughing loudly with glee. They were having the time of their lives.

“Odd is putting it kindly.” This voice blubbered with pompousness. You gripped your champagne glass tightly.

“This is why I believe we need to stop just anyone from acquiring fortunes, because this happens. Common people have no place here.”

You just about broke your glass, and your shoulders raised as you were seconds away from turning around and dressing the pair of snobs down, but Tech put a hand on your arm to stop you.

“Pay it no mind,” he said evenly, his hands returning to the top of his cane in front of him.

“But they’re being so cruel,” you protested, shoulders sagging.

He shook his head before pushing his glasses up his nose. “It is nothing we are not used to. It no longer affects us. We know who we are, and that’s all we’ve ever cared about.”

You softened your smile at him. You knew how the Batchbury’s had grown up in destitution and had endured many hardships to get to where they were now. You had grown fond of them all since joining them as Meg’s companion, and it just wasn’t right that people thought they were undeserving of their fortune. Out of anyone, they deserved to be happy and live without worry. You wished all of the ton believed that too.

You placed your now empty glass on a passing tray before turning to Tech. “I’m taking some air.”

“Leaving so soon?”

You whipped your head to see Mr. Batchbury in all his handsome glory. Similarly to his brothers, he was dressed in a dark grey tailored suit embroidered with silver thread, unintentionally matching his hair. His front pocket held a red pocket square, like all his brothers as a representation of their family. He towered over you, his trousers accentuating his long legs as they tucked into his shiny black knee-high boots. You flushed as he looked at you, the corner of his mouth upturned in his infuriatingly attractive smirk.

“Mr. Batchbury,” you stammered out. “I’m surprised you’re here.”

“As am I,” Tech blinked behind his spectacles. “You have expressed your distaste for these events, Crosshair.”

Crosshair scowled out at the dance floor, his eyes finding Meg and Wrecker. Hunter was held up somewhere, no doubt the bar was filled with people of the ton wanting to make his acquaintance, much to his discomfort.

“Yes, well, I don’t like being left behind,” Crosshair spoke bitterly, grabbing a glass of champagne from a tray. He sipped it, grimacing at the taste. You knew he hated champagne. “Is there nothing stronger?” he complained.

“There’s a bowl of punch on the other side of the room that has been spiked with a liquor that tastes like an oil lamp, if that is more to your taste,” you said dryly.

“Funny,” Mr. Batchbury drawled before downing the rest of the champagne. The string quartet finished the music, and everyone gave a gentle applause. People moved on and off the dancefloor in a sea of bodies as they prepared for the next dance of the evening.

“Care to dance?” Mr. Batchbury held out his left hand towards you. You looked up at him in shock, mouth agape.

“I’m sorry?” Had you heard him right?

Mr. Batchbury rolled his eyes and emphasised his outstretched palm. “A dance. Would you like one?”

You looked at him incredulously. He wanted to dance with you? The man who did not hide how much he disliked you and your presence in his household with his family. The man who did not acknowledge you at all and when he did, did so with such disdain that it was tangible. And yet he held out his gloved un-wooden hand towards you.

You looked at Tech who watched the interaction with interest, a look on his face you couldn’t decipher. You crossed your arms at Mr. Batchbury. “Is this a trick?”

“Would you give me an answer,” he hissed, growing impatient and agitated.

You studied him for a moment, trying to find any mischief or dishonesty in his gaze, but found none of it. Was he truly asking you in earnest? You couldn’t fathom it. It crossed your mind to reject him, to say no and humiliate him in front of everyone but something tugged in your chest. He’d come here of all places, even though he vehemently expressed his dislike for balls and intention not to attend. Even though he never seemed to feel comfortable in this new life he had and to dance with you in front of everyone was making a spectacle of himself.

And Mr. Batchbury, you had learned, did not do anything he did not want to do, and it seemed as though he did indeed wish to dance with you, but you could not place why. No one had asked you to dance in such a long time, and you doubt Mr. Batchbury made a habit of asking anyone to do anything at all, much less dance with him. It simply seemed…cruel to reject his offer – and you could not deny the part of you that actually wanted to dance with him; to be close to him in a way that wasn’t through argument.

Your inconvenient crush on the youngest Batchbury brother should not be encouraged…but it would be nice to dance.

Cautiously, you placed your gloved hand into his, his fingers wrapped around yours securely, but not tightly. His palm felt firm and strangely comforting against yours as he led you onto the dance floor and you watched the side of his face in fascination. He looked at you when you reached your position on the floor and dropped your hand. You looked up at him, his hands behind his back, and he stared down wordlessly at you, his eyes studying you intensely. You averted your gaze, landing on Wrecker and Meg in the next row, who were watching you both with curious expressions.

Your eyes slid back to him when the music began, and you met his bow with a curtsey. His eyes never left yours as he took your hands gently in his and performed the first step, moving towards each other and passing by the shoulders. He was poised and effortless in his movement, which surprised you.

“I thought you did not know how to dance,” you whispered, not sure why your voice decided to lower so.

Mr. Batchbury didn’t answer, the corner of his mouth twitching like it was about to smile. You frowned as you came together again.

“You didn’t attend my lessons with your family,” you whispered again a little louder.

You almost tripped over your own feet when you saw Mr. Batchbury’s mouth lift into a small, amused smile. Your frown deepened which only seemed to make him more delighted. What could he possibly be smiling about? You held his hands as you spun in a slow circle, his thumbs gently resting on your knuckles, brushing yours. You watched him, the way his whole face seemed to change just at the lift in his expression. The way the crease in his brow went away, the smile lines on his face deepening and his eyes filled with mirth. It was breathtaking.

Your mind then went back to the flash of grey hair you saw up in the balconied eaves of the Batchbury’s ballroom and it all became clear.

“You watched, didn’t you?” you asked, though you knew you were right. “From the eaves.”

Mr. Batchbury was silent for a moment, his smile falling back into that pensive line, as if he was annoyed you’d seen him and caught on to his little game.

“And if I did?” he countered, passing by your shoulder again. He hardly ever answered a question directly and it drove you to such frustration. You rolled your eyes.

“Why would you not come down and learn properly? Are you embarrassed, or do you simply hate me that much?” you held hands again, moving down the line on the dancefloor.

Mr. Batchbury scoffed, a light puff of air from his nose. “I don’t hate you.”

“Could’ve fooled me, sir,” you snapped back, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

The dance continued, and you moved towards him and turned so your back was to his front, and one of his hands found your waist and the other held your hand. You lay your hands on his as you both moved in a circle with some other couples. Your chest tightened as you felt his hands on your body as he pulled you close to him. You felt his hand rest in the dip of your waist, and you were so aware of the way his fingers flexed against your palm. His touch ignited your body in ways you never believed was possible and you tried to control the heat that rushed to your cheeks and up the back of your neck. How could he illicit this response from you when you were constantly at odds? It was nonsensical.

You were hoping he couldn’t tell your fluster when you felt him bend down to your ear, breath tickling you there.

“I do not hate you.” His voice was like gravel, and you felt the vibrations of his low voice move down into your bones. It flared through you, goosebumps prickling across your skin, and you fought off a shiver that threatened to travel down your spine. You spun away from him, returning to face him once more.

Mr. Batchbury looked at you with that same pensive, almost emotionless expression, and you felt the irritation in you rising as you passed by his shoulder again, circling him.

“You always ignore me when I am in the room, and if by some miracle you do acknowledge my existence, you reject any civil conversation with me with caustic barbs and scowls. You all but yelled at me when I innocently inquired about what you write in your notebook. So, please explain to me why I should believe you don’t hate me when it’s clear that you do.”

Mr. Batchbury’s expression remained impassive despite your blunt claims, fanning the flames of your ire until they were ablaze with fury. You wished he was not so handsome, that his touch and proximity did not affect you so – it made this all the more difficult and confusing. You returned to your place and watched as he passed by your shoulder, circling you. You waited for his response, waiting to see how he came to his own defence, but it did not come.

He had nothing to say, and that hurt even more. For it meant he truly did hate you.

You laughed humorlessly, shaking your head, feeling tears begin to prick your eyes and you tried to hide your hurt as the music came to a close, thankful your dance was over.

You curtseyed as he bowed, chastising yourself for getting upset at how he treated you. He did not deserve to mould your feelings in this way. You shook your head again, face aflame and tears threatening to spill down your cheeks in front of everyone – in front of the person you loathed the most yet whose eyes haunted your dreams. You quickly walked off the dance floor without another word. You ignored the calls of your name from Meg and instead made your way towards the doors that led to the gardens.

When you made it outside, the cool air prickled your skin, and you took a deep breath, closing your eyes. There were small droves of people outside among lanterns, their chatter an even din to your ears. But you needed to be further away. Stray tears falling, you went down the steps and into the gardens, away from the ball and the people.

The Queen and Prince’s staff had not placed the lanterns everywhere, and soon you left them behind as you walked through the well-kept gardens towards the glass building which could not be anything but the greenhouse, your feet crunching softly on the gravel pathways. You wrapped your arms around yourself and looked up at the sky as you walked, at the constellations that littered the blue night with glowing dots. You smiled tearfully at the reminder that you were only a small part of something much bigger, and nothing could truly matter so much when the stars existed. Even if it felt like the opposite.

When you reached the door, you pushed it open and closed it quietly behind you. The temperature was much warmer than it was outside, and you could feel the heat seep into your skin. You walked further in, marvelling at the various plants that grew and seemed to flourish in this environment, some of them you’d never seen before in your life. There were fruit trees and shrubs, flower bushes and others. The greenhouse was lit inside, giving the plant life an orange glow in the night. You walked around stone fountains and admired the stone statues, letting the ball and its people slip away.

You didn’t know why you were so hurt by Mr. Batchbury’s actions and lack of words. Something about him flared up a part of yourself you didn’t like. You hated meeting his barbs with cutting remarks, it was exhausting. You hated ruining your time spent with the Batchbury’s, so aware of their youngest brother and primed for any words that may be sent your way. You spent almost every waking thought fixated on Crosshair Batchbury and no matter what you did, nothing could sway your mind elsewhere. Always thinking about his stupid words that fell from his pretty lips and his even more stupidly handsome face with those searing brown eyes that spread fire through you when you looked into them.

You kicked the edge of the fountain with a frustrated sound coming from your throat and then sat on the edge and put your head in your hands. You felt more tears fall down your cheeks and you sniffled, wishing you had a handkerchief.

You could not deny it to yourself any longer.

You were completely enamoured by Mr. Crosshair Batchbury, and the hurt you felt was because you wanted him to like you. You kept fighting with him because it was the only way he would look at you with those pretty eyes of his. Ever since that first introduction, you wished his attention to be filled with the love, care and kindness you knew he possessed. But his handsome angled face would only ever send you daggers. So, with nothing else to do, with no explanations to why he did not like you, you just kept arguing with him, over and over again. But nothing ever changed. Whatever you did, whatever you said would never win him over, and you were exhausted.

You deserved better than that.

You heard footsteps running inside and you quickly straightened, eyes wide. You wiped your face and hoped your eyes weren’t so red. The footsteps stopped and you turned to your right and scoffed when you saw the source of all your hurt, confusion and desire standing there in all his glory.

“What do you want, Mr. Batchbury?” you asked, but did not want an answer. He looked at you, beautiful brown eyes trained on your face, and you watched them search your features for something. You laughed humorlessly and kept talking.

“Wanted to see if I finally cracked? If your words, or lack thereof I should say, finally landed their blow? Well, they did, sir. They did. You win. I’m not playing this game with you any longer, I am tired of it.”

“What game?” he croaked out, standing there all tall and handsome with a crease in his brow you wanted to press away with your thumb. Oh, how you wished he’d just been nice to you. It would’ve been so much easier.

You stood up and smoothed your gown. “Our arguments. I don’t want to have them anymore.”

He looked at you, incredulous. “The ones you started?”

“I did not start anything!” You hissed at him, balling your fists. “You did!”

Mr. Batchbury took a step closer to you, his voice deepening with disdain. “Please enlighten me, because I distinctly remember you disliking me from the moment we met, and nothing could change your mind.”

You rolled your eyes before narrowing them at him. “That’s rich coming from you, Mr. Batchbury, seeing as though you were the one who decided I was not up to your standards upon our introduction.”

Mr. Batchbury reeled back. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you spat, taking a step towards him. “You looked me up and down and decided that was it, you’d seen enough of me. And now I simply plague you by existing. Shall I reiterate my words from the ballroom?”

“I know perfectly well what you said.”

He was so close to you now and you had to crane your neck to meet his eyes. When you were this close, you could see the uneven outline of his port wine stain across his eye, the deep red a contrast to his brown skin. You watched the way the colour flared with his emotions, and you wanted to place your fingertips over it, feel if it was as hot as his anger. He scowled down at you, his shoulders broad despite his lean frame. He was intimidating to most, and he knew it – but he never scared you. This attention that he gave you in these moments only solidified your wish for him to look at you in other ways. For those burning eyes of his to look upon you with love and not disdain. You drew yourself up as tall as you could, meeting him in every way except the way you wanted to, hoping your voice didn’t tremble.

“So, you do not deny it? That you took one look at me and decided I was not worthy of your company.”

Mr. Batchbury’s face softened ever so slightly. If you had blinked, you would’ve missed it. “That’s not what happened.”

You smiled only to hide the immense hurt that only seemed to cut deeper with every moment he continued to look at you like that. “Oh, please, spare me.”

Mr. Batchbury’s eyes searched your face. What did you look like to him right now? You must look unkempt with the mess of your emotions. You were not good at hiding any of them, all the anger and hurt seemed to show up in the creases of your face and across your skin. Did he feel bad about the mess he had made you? Did he feel anything which was not frustration and vexation towards you? You could not imagine it. His face had softened marginally since the beginning of this spar, but the only thing it could be is pity; pity that you believed such things, pity that you couldn’t take the arguments anymore.

Pity that you felt for him in ways he could never fulfil.

You felt your eyes brim with tears, and you took a step back, putting distance between you. Being so close to him was not helping in any such way. This had to stop.

“You know, sir, just because you are rich, tall, and a handsome war hero does not mean you can treat people like they no longer matter. You and your family are wonderful people. The love you have for each other is truly remarkable and if I ever had a family, I would hope they are as close as yours is. I love your brothers and sister dearly, but it does not take away from the fact you have continued to provoke and anger me, and I will no longer allow it.”

Something shifts in Mr. Batchbury; he straightens and his once steady feet falter as he looks at you, like he’d just been knocked off balance. You stare at each other, his eyes wide and yours full of hurt and surrender. He blinks, processing your words, and you realise what you’ve just let slip from your tongue.

Handsome. Handsome. Handsome.

Wonderful. Wonderful. Wonderful.

The words linger in the air between you both, and you feel yourself stiffening as your mouth opens slightly, before closing again. You could not take the words back. Your secret was out; he knew what you really thought of him.

Despite all the insults and affronts towards him, you did think he was wonderful and handsome, and the love he showed his family made a different kind of warmth seep through you. Not the warmth of anger, but the warmth of admiration and love.

Mr. Batchbury seemed to recover from the weight of your words, shifting on his feet, but his eyes never left you. You watched his face soften, harden then soften again, the creases around his eyes and mouth betraying his usual stoic face. You watched as he took a tentative step closer to you, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke.

“You won’t, will you?”

You felt the breath of his words tickle your face and you looked up at him, heart beating so fast you were sure he could hear it in this quiet, empty corner of the greenhouse. You swallowed. What was he doing? His words sounded like a challenge, but his voice was softer than you’d ever heard it; softer than it had ever been towards you.

But you’d been burned by him before, and you stood your ground, on guard for the insult that would surely follow. Your voice was low with your response, mustering up as much challenge as you would with his eyes looking down on you.

“No, I won’t.”

You were unprepared for his next words, delivered in that same softness as before but not coated in an uncertainty that puzzled you and caught you off guard. “What will you allow then?”

You blinked up at him, eyes moving between his. Were they even softer than before? Your eyes trailed down his face and watched the way his lips pressed together. You quickly met his gaze once more, your reply coming out strained. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Mr. Batchbury voice was unnervingly gentle as he said, “Will you allow this?”

He silently lifted his gloved hand and put the end of it between his teeth. You watched the movement, eyes trained on his mouth as he pulled it off and let it drop from his mouth to the floor. Then he took your hand in his bare one softly, and his wooden one cradled your elbow. Your breath hitched at the touch. His eyes left yours only for a moment as he pinched the seam of the tip of your silk glove, just above your middle finger. Then his gaze returned as he tugged, slowly pulling your glove from your arm until it was bare. Your chest began to rise and fall rapidly as you moved your eyes between his and his movements in quick darts.

“What are you doing?” Your voice rushed and breathless.

His voice was calm, if not slightly bored as he dropped the glove to the ground. “Seeing what you will allow.”

Mr. Batchbury began to do the same with your other glove, repeating the movements carefully. You blinked up at him, your heart racing and your stomach flipping over itself once you felt his hand move across the bare skin of your arms and hands. His palm was not rough, but it was not quite smooth, either. It was dry, warm, and large and completely engulfed your own hand, and you imagined his other hand would’ve felt the same if it had not been lost. His hand was a working one; a hand that had held rifles and pulled on ropes; a hand you knew held his sister’s when she was little; a hand that learnt how to write when he lost his other; a hand that carried around his leather-bound book tightly; a hand that had held you close to him when you had danced; a hand that removed your gloves so artfully you felt the sensations move through your entire body.

A hand that was, in fact, gentle with you in ways his words had never been.

You stared at him, and he looked at you as he held your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture that seemed almost instinctual. He’d done that during the dance too, you realised. You thought it had been done absently, but what if…it was intentional? You searched his face and saw a vulnerability you had never once seen grace his features. It made him look boyish, and something in your chest bloomed before you realised what you were doing.

You were holding hands with Mr. Batchbury in a greenhouse, and his skin was warm against yours.

You shook your head, face aflame. “This isn’t proper,” you choked out.

His voice was soft once more. “Do you want to stop?”

You looked at him. You had lamented only moments ago of how you wished he would show you the kindness he showed his family, and now here he was, holding your hand. How did he move from throwing barbs towards you, to such gentle gestures? How had the hostility between you shifted so quickly into softness? Your surrender to this game between you, your secret feelings towards him that had finally revealed itself after hiding them behind venom-soaked words. Something in that had changed the way he looked at you, how he spoke and how he held you.

What did it all mean?

But as he looked at you, finally looking at you with something other than hate, you couldn’t bring yourself to push him away.

“No,” you whispered.

His eyes softened once more, and it was an expression you’d grown very fond of in the past minutes, and you found yourself getting lost in the tourmaline of his eyes. They were the colour of a fireplace, of cinnamon sticks in hot cider – and maybe that was Mr. Batchbury to his core. Sweetness on the edges of the tart acidic warmth that permeated you as you consumed it.

You wanted to reach up and touch his face, see if the stubble that lined his jaw was rough against your fingers, you wanted to trace the line of his port wine stain, and see if his eyes closed with the touch, or if they stayed trained on you.

You felt your cheeks heating as he continued to look at you. What did he see now when he looked at you? Still the mess of anger and hurt? Or the unhidden feelings of enamour you had hidden for so long?

You felt his hand on yours squeeze before he swallowed, and slowly moved his face closer to yours. It was a cautious kind of movement that left room for you to push him away, but you couldn’t – or wouldn’t. And instead, the thump of your heart filled your ears as his lips inched closer to yours, both your gazes dropping to each other’s lips. He paused and you felt the breath of your name over the lips.

“Yes,” you breathed back.

“I have never once hated you,” Mr. Batchbury whispered before he pressed his lips to yours.

You had never kissed anyone in your life, and all your knowledge came from novels or chatters overheard from servants. But this kiss wasn’t like anything you have ever heard or read. It started off sweet, tentative a little unsure as you both tried to figure out what to do and what felt good. He pulled you closer, so you were pressed up against his chest, and his arms went to your hips whilst yours draped themselves over his shoulders. He lifted you so your feet were on top of his, and you pressed your tip toes into the tops of his boots as the kiss deepened, both of you finding your footing as you grew used to the ministrations. He smelled like the fireplace his eyes matched, and you breathed him in as Mr. Batchbury’s lips claimed yours. Your body was on fire as felt his tongue at the seam of your lips and you couldn’t hold back a moan as you tasted him. He tasted of the champagne he’d downed earlier, and you could feel the hardness of his frame against you, like nothing was close enough.

“Enchanting,” you thought you’d heard him say between kisses.

The kisses you’d heard about had never detailed the kind of passion and want this kiss held. The greenhouse’s heat coupled with the heat of this embrace was making you hot all over, your body tingled with the need for more. And as the kiss went on, you both became more frantic, gasping between each kiss. His hands moved up and down your back, holding you securely against him and your bare hands grasped at the short strands of his silver hair that lay at the nape of his neck. He groaned as you tugged at them and kissed you harder, his hot mouth slanting over yours as he pulled you in deeper, bodies pressed together like nothing was close enough.

“Mr. Batchbury,” you breathed as his lips left yours to move down your jawline to your neck. You pressed your hand against his cheek and felt the stubble, confirming the roughness of it you had imagined. God, you wanted him everywhere – improper be damned. How could something that felt so good be so improper? Why were people denying themselves this for the sake of propriety? You feared you could never get enough of this, of him.

“Crosshair,” he insisted, just like his lips as they pressed into your skin, nipping at your exposed collarbones.

“Crosshair,” you repeated before he swallowed your breath with his lips once more.

He let out a groan that you felt vibrate into your lips and chest and something about that sound, the deepness and loudness of it in the bubble you both had made, brought you back to yourself, and you remembered where you were and realised what you were doing.

You pulled away, chest rising and falling, eyes wide and cheeks burning. Your face was so close to his, and you took him in. His eyes were blown, brown irises bright, and his mouth parted with swollen lips. His port wine birthmark was a deep red as his skin flushed. You felt his chest press into yours as he breathed hard, and he blinked at you.

In his face, you saw a man who’s kissed you senseless, who held you to him, who’d touched your bare hands, and had been so gentle, all you had ever wanted him to be with you and yet, you felt yourself freeze.

Was this real? Or another cruel game at the expense of your feelings? One where he told you he never hated you, kissed you until your knees buckled then spat cruelties later on? Was he lulling you into complacency so his acid tongue would burn you when you weren’t expecting it?

The thought hit you like a twelve-horse carriage and the guard you’d foolishly let down flew back up. You’d lost your mind; taken by your fantasies. Mr. Batchbury was never gentle with you, no matter how much you wished it – why would he start now?

You couldn’t be sure. But you were not going to be hurt by Mr. Batchbury again – your heart couldn’t take it.

He rasped out your name, your kisses still lying in his throat and you felt yourself jolt before wrenching yourself out of his embrace.

“I have to go,” you strained out, already feeling your eyes burn with tears.

You watched his expression change into one of shock and then indignation. “What?”

“This shouldn’t have happened,” you choked before turning away from him and running back through the greenhouse the way you came, leaving Mr. Batchbury behind.

i hope you enjoyed this FIRST installment!! bc ofc! what is a regency romance without a steamy encounter!! ANYWAY stay tuned!!

(i am travelling for a bit so part 2 will be posted sometime in december! thank you for your patience!)

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