#and he is NOT about to start paying up now

[monzabee]

park avenue polyanna (social media au) - mv1

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where everyone is confused how Max, the resident villain of f1, has such a wholesome girlfriend.

Pairing: max verstappen x gallerist!reader (model used: random people i've found on the internet)

Warnings: none other than some cursing

Author note: okaaaaay, this is kinda all over the place but to be completely fair, i started it like a month ago and i finished it right after the singapore gp, so it has been a while, lol. miss charlotte york is here (my personal fav alongside samantha), so i hope you guys enjoy this one as wel!! we have one more to go, and boy is that one going to be fun to work on!

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

yourusername just posted a story!

yourusername

Liked by maxverstappen1, yourbestfriendsinstagram, f1wagss and 34,826 others.

yourusername: would %100 recommend pilates if you want to make a grown f1 driver cry because he can't handle the stretching!

user: please tell me there is video evidence of max doing reformer

yourusername: i can neither confirm nor deny these allegations against my beloved boyfriend

yourusername: but if i had to, the answer would be yes, yes i do

user: I LOVE YOU YOU ARE A NATIONAL TREASURE

user: she is probably the nicest people on earth and i can't, for the life of me understand how she and max are in a relationship

user: maybe we should stop assuming people's personalities and also speculate about their relationships bestie

yourusername: period!

user: thank you for giving us the best content on this app, queen

user: i will pay thousands and millions to see max verstappen do pilates

user: everybody say thank you yn for the best piece of information ever

view all 2,647 comments.

user: i just know some of the drivers on the grid are going to have so much fun with this brand new piece of information

maxverstappen1: not so simply lovely🙄

yourusername: but you were sooo cute

yourusername just posted a story!

yourusername

Liked by maxverstappen1, elleusa, f1gossipworld and 39,267 others.

yourusername: mandatory busy week recap

user: nothing to see here just subtly flexing her chanel kelly on us (i love you queen you're so iconic)

user: omg she works??

user: stop this right now you're embarrassing yourself

yourusername: i wish i didn't need to work but gotta feed the kids, you know? (max, the cats and my dog)

user: she might be the busiest girl in the world, but one thing about yn is that she is NEVER missing that pilates class

maxverstappen1: come back hoooooome

yourusername: soooooon

view all 3,456 comments.

user: i can feel it, she's going to be in singapore

user: manifesting this for the looks

yourusername

Liked by f1wagsupdates, maxverstappen1, yourbestie and 43,2647 others.

yourusername: lesson from this weekend: kill them with kindness, or in our case, with a no comment interview!

user: the look on max's face is so telling of the situation

yourusername: nothing a bunch of cuddles can't fix!!

user: this relationship is the proof that opposites, in fact, attract

user: i can't believe we got a max mention before gta 6

user: oh to be wearing vintage chanel and dating max verstappen

user: she is who i wanna be when i grow up (i'm 23)

view all 5,253 comments.

maxverstappen1: no comment

yourusername: not disappointed and not surprised

maxverstappen1

Liked by yourusername, redbullracing, landonorris and 601,3674 others.

maxverstappen1: i don't know what you are talking about i'm always nice

user: the duality of men

user: mad max to gentleman pipeline is actually insane

yourusername: can confirm that you are VERY nice

maxverstappen1: simply lovely

user: okay but are we winning the championship oooor??

view all 10,273 comments.

user: MAX VERSTAPPEN IN A SUIT, I REPEAT, MAX VERSTAPPEN IN A SUIT

user: this relationship confuses me a lot but i also love it so much

user: it's giving grumpy x sunshine to the extreme extents and i love it

[cathnospam]

CW// UA CollegeAU, Oral, Reader is a lil oblivious, Bakugo is his own warning

“Returning the Favor”

Bakugo owes you and he hates it. But you don’t know it.

He has been meaning to pay you back for months, but he simply can’t due to world literally hate him.

It all started just a few months ago when you offered your Blondie to go down on him after a mission.

He’s been more crankier than usual and when you exhausted google for answers; relaxing, taking a mental day, going to a spa, the list went on , but nothing worked.

you were left with an orgasm.

It releases stress and tension, plus it feels amazing it shouldn’t hurt right? Granted, you and your boyfriend never went as far as mutual masturbation, but when you offered he wasn’t very resistant towards it.

So you did, and even though it was your first time, he definitely didn’t think so! You gagged a few times sure, but that just added to the sexiness on you, and like Google said; it worked.

He wasn’t chipper or anything, but he was more calmer, pout still there as usual, but his eyes were more relaxed. Even when Denki kept touching at him (you assume he did it on purpose to make him mad) all he did was roll his eyes, call him sparky and walked away.

You did catch him staring at your mouth more because of this, but it was worth it seeing him be less annoyed and angry.

So here we are now 3 months later and it’s became a routine between you both; at least a couple times a week you let him come to your dorm and you ….handle him. It never goes any further than that though since neither of yall are ready to take that dive into real intimacy, but it was okay—

You don’t mind at all! Maybe you’ve developed an oral fixation, but ironically enough sucking his dick is a stress reliever for you as well. Some days you’ve just ask him if he wants to come over and you spend the evening taking care of him.

Little did you know Bakugo hates it.

He doesn’t hate you or what you’re doing to him, it drives him insane, a few days ago he got hard during a shower thinking about your pretty little moans on his dick so that wasn’t the problem.

The problem was for the past few weeks he has been wanting to express his appreciation towards you by going down on YOU, but every single time he attempts it’s always an interuption.

Jirou needs you for a problem she has, an emergency at one of the agencies you both work at, he remembers a few times he fell right asleep after cumming. It’s embarrassing!

So, Bakugo has been adding up the costs and he knows he owes you, it’s gotten to the point he feels like he is using you.

Sure he says thank you, takes you out, cleans you up, etc etc, but he wants to REALLY pay you back. The moment he moves his body to get between your thighs you both have to leave. It SUCKS. He hates OWING.

But it wasn’t just about paying you back he does think about eating you out. Embarrassingly so, in different ways too.

Maybe with a skirt on and nothing under? Bent over the bed? Sit on his face? Maybe 69? Side ways? He can’t stop thinking the different ways to eat that pretty pussy of yours.

He couldn’t take it anymore he HAS to at this point. So, once again you text him asking if he wanted to come over and of course he’s already on his way, but once you tug down his sweats he stops you.

“Baby—?—oh!”

No words needed he attacks your neck gently to distract you from how he was pushing you down on your comfy bed, “‘Suki you—“

“Just…shut up. Please. “ Luckily you were wearing just one of his shirts and a thin little thong, he kisses down and all around your tummy and thighs, indirectly teasing you, ‘Have to pay you back..”

“Pay ..me?”

He groans, knowing damn well he doesn’t wanna continue unless he asks for your permission, but wont get an answer until he answer your questions, “I been wanting to return the favor…but every fucking time I do we gatta stop and I don’t want you…to think…I don’t know that I’m using you.”

You blink, registering what he’s saying, “Katsuki you are using me.” When his eyes grew wide you started to giggle and shake your head, “Not in a bad way! You’re using me to help yourself. And I love to. I love making you feel good, it was my idea y’know…but I never did it so you can do it back to me. We’re in a relationship not a…deal.”

As much as it made sense Katsuki was just too stubborn (and hard) to accept it, “But…” you lie back, tugging off your panties and spreading your legs for him. His piercing red eyes were wide, stunned at even prettier your pussy looked last time he seen you. He swallowed hard when he noticed your lips already wet, were you playing with yourself earlier? “If you are offering you can, but I want you to do it because you want to not because I owe—-oh!”

Your boyfriend wasted no time holding open your thighs to latch his lips in your pussy. Granted he never done it before, but the weeks of looking at pussy eating videos helped him navigate where to lick and suck.

Sure. He didn’t necessarily owe you, but he sure as hell wanted you to know he loves and appreciate you all the same.

And with the way you were moaning his name, he knew he paid his debt.

[hangesophtalmologist]

The Salesman's Obsession

title: the salesman's obsession

pairing: squid game's salesman/ recruiter x f!reader (y/n)

synopsis: when someone dares to interrupt his game, the infamous salesman ought to punish them... but she doesn't intend to play by his rules.

warnings: violence, physical assaut, social stigma, psychotic mc, squid game au

a/n: we shall give the people what they asked for (salesman x readers) (i'm people)

The slap rang out like a gunshot, ricocheting off the cold subway walls. The man on the ground – disheveled, panting – flinched. His cheek blossomed red, but he didn’t dare look up. Above him, the Salesman stood poised, palm still tingling. His eyes were bright but empty, the light behind them clinical, dissecting.

"Come on now, one more try,” he taunted. His voice was smooth, almost musical and weightless, as if he were suggesting a game of chess. "Don’t stop at three. You’ll regret that more.”

It wasn’t joy he was feeling. Amusement, merely. Detached, surgical. Like stepping on something fragile just to hear the crack. The pathetic, the desperate – they all crumbled the same way. He just had to give them a little push, and their precious facade fell apart, leaving behind the twitching core of greed, ready to humiliate itself for scraps.

The sweating businessman bent to pick up his red tile, trembling. His shoulders sagged under the weight of silent despair. Miserable. The Salesman’s lips curled, though not exactly enough to be called a smile. He enjoyed the process. The inevitability of it.

Another failure.

He raised his hand, licking his lips in anticipation, but before he could swing, something unexpected happened. A hand grabbed his wrist.

Firm. Unshaking.

Cold.

His head snapped to the side; the sharp turn of a predator interrupted mid-hunt.

You.

His gaze narrowed. He’d noticed you earlier, lingering on the platform’s edge. Background noise. He rarely missed details, but somehow you had slipped through the cracks. Perhaps that was the first red flag.

His gaze drifted over your hand, slender fingers circling his wrist like a cuff. He could break free easily. Yet he didn’t. Your grip felt… deliberate. Measured.

“Enough,” you said, cocking your head to the side, sly eyes scrutinizing him.

His expression shifted, just slightly. Interest flickered, not outwardly hostile, but curious. He searched your face for clues – that familiar, nauseating blend of pity and self-importance most saviours carried. Yet, your eyes betrayed neither. But he didn’t need any tells – he knew people like you. Hypocrites yearning for crumbs of recognition.

“And who might you be?” His voice retained its warmth, but irritation simmered beneath it.

You stepped between him and his trembling opponent, your hand falling away. “Doesn’t matter.”

His gaze darkened as annoyance started to seep in his body. He didn’t even watch as the man behind you scrambled to his feet, disappearing into the crowd like prey escaping a hunter. His focus was entirely on you now – the intruder. He examined you for long time – longer than what he was used to. The Salesman never cared much for remembering anyone other than his recruits – but there was something about the lines of your face, the crooked slope of your mouth, the mischief in you pupils. Something challenging. Something he wanted to crush.

"You just cost me 100,000 won," he said lightly, adjusting his cufflinks with meticulous care – but the tightness in his jaw betrayed the casual tone. "So. How do you plan to pay me back?"

You shrugged, defying. “I don’t plan to.”

His grin widened, but the glint in his eyes sharpened. “I see. Then I’ll have to take it from you. A slap or cash. Choose.”

“I have a better idea,” you smirked, lazily flicking the red tile between your fingers. “I’ll take his place. I want to play too.”

His smile faltered. The thrill flickered out, but simply for a second – you weren’t desperate, not twitchy or ashamed. Not his typical prey. Yet. Because after all, if you wanted to play, it was because you wanted money – like everyone else.

He just needed to crack your confident mask to see you scrambling for it.

A chuckle escaped his mouth, hunger for your humiliation gnawing at his stomach. He wanted to see your heroic aspirations slapped out of your mind until you were nothing more than the lowlives he usually dealt with.

Yes. This would be even more fun to watch.

His smirk returned, though colder. “Fine. Each loss costs 100,000 won. Can you pay?”

“Don’t worry. I won’t lose.”

Your smugness stirred something primal in him—something ugly, something he hadn’t felt in years. You flipped the red card over your fingers, defiance oozing off you. Then in a split second you hurled the tile to the ground with surprising force. There was no hesitation, no tension. He didn’t need to look down to know you had flipped the blue card over. He watched you carefully, waiting for the inevitable flicker of relief that most winners betrayed.

None came.

Your eyes had barely left him either, like you were also gauging his reaction. Your lips stretched in a predatory smile – a thrill of excitement ran down his veins.

“I paid the debt. Now let’s play for real,” you cheered, displaying a naïve smile, one that could have fooled him as genuine if there wasn’t a flick of calculation - measurement - behind the easy curve of your lips.

The Salesman was a man of control – he could recognize when someone was leading a game, and right now this someone wasn’t him. He wasn’t surprised when you succeeded again.

“You won,” he stated, but there was no satisfaction, no amusement – he was still hungry for your humiliation. He reached for his luggage. But your foot stopped him, stepping on it as you suddenly reduced the distance between them.

“Oh no, Mister. You must have misunderstood me,” you slowly leaned towards him and whispered against his face.

He should have seen it before – but it was only now, when you were inches away from him, that he finally noticed the spark of amusement hidden in your eyes. It wasn’t heroism, nor greed that animated you.

Danger. His heart raced with the adrenaline that was reserved for his favourite kills, an all-too-powerful feeling that welcome your next words.

“I wasn’t playing for money.”

And then with sudden, brutal efficiency, you slapped him. Hard. Hard enough to send him stumbling on his feet and wipe any thought from his mind.

The crack resounded louder than his own had.

His head jerked to the side, pain stinging his cheek. Silence stretched between you. The slap burned, but not as much as the unfamiliar sensation curling in his gut.

Your laugh cut through the quiet, light and playful, but dripping with something – something mad.

He scoffed, bringing a hand to massage his cheek. It was stinging, the only proof that the last seconds had happened. When he looked back at you, you had tilted your head in an innocent expression.

But your conniving smirk was taunting him. “I get you now; it is quite fun. Have a nice day, Mister.”

You turned and walked away, your figure shrinking under the flickering subway lights.

The Salesman didn’t follow. Not immediately.

He watched you disappear into the station, the flickering fluorescent lights overhead casting fractured shadows on the tiles.

He stayed rooted, fingers twitching at his side, replaying the moment. Over and over.

Then, without warning, he laughed. Deep, unhinged, shaking laughter that echoed through the empty station. His stomach twisted with hunger, sharper and more vicious than he had felt in years.

You.

You weren’t a prey.

No, you were something far more valuable.

You were a challenge.

And he would break you. Piece by piece.

[foolsmask]

I've been thinking about this a lot lately. There's a show or movie called "Landman" with Billy Bob Thornton. I don't know anything about it beyond this one small clip I've seen. In the clip this woman who seems to be an environmentally conscious person and BBT are out in the scrub lands and BBT gives this speech about how petroleum (the substance that makes gas) is essential to life as we know it. He lists a bunch of products it is made into (stuff that woud make life difficult if it went away), then points out the wind turbines the woman seems interested in create a carbon footprint and implying they don't generate enough energy to offset that footprint.

And that argument sounds very compelling. BBT delivers it with a dispassionate calm, but stern tone like a disapproving parent talking to a child.

But then he keeps talking and shoots his argument in the proverbial fucking foot.

He starts talking about how we don't have the infrastructure to move the power from the wind turbines and solar panels to the people, and it would take 30 years to make a significant dent in that problem, and such a project would have a huge carbon footprint. Then says something about only having less than 200 years of petroleum anyway.

From my memory that's where the clip ends, with BBT walking away.

But the writers didn't listen to themselves and this story about President Carter illustrates my problem with his argument.

We could still try.

Imagine if Regan had not killed this idea. The 80's were 40 years ago. The internet was developed back then. Look where it is now. If we had people focused on engineering clean energy for 40 years, made it profitable for companies to invest in researching, where would it be? For all we know we might have eliminated our dependency on oil. We might still have tires and roads that require petroleum to be drilled for, but it might not be the big pollution problem it is.

This is my problem with society. We see problems that need fixing and if we can't fix them all in one fell swoop, we decode it's a dumb idea and give up. It boggles my mind.

I live in a midsized city in the U.S. We don't have a good public transportation system here. It's busses only right now. People howl and complain about how the bus doesn't go where they want to go, so a bill is passed to expand the routes and add more. Now people are howling and complaining about the construction clogging the roads. It's supposed to take 3 years and will greatly increase people's ability and willingness to use the bus. But this little inconvenience makes people scream about how they don't want it because they own a car. Well great, not all of us do. Maybe you could save money and have a nice night downtown and ride the bus rather than paying for gas and parking once or twice a year.

It benefits everyone to try and improve life. It might not work, but could we try?

[cyripticchronicler]

Sooooo i need you to write more azriel becauseeeeee you are amazing at it and I adored healing

His Shadows

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: A disastrous date leads to an unexpected revelation: Azriel’s shadows aren’t just protective—they know the truth about the bond between you and him. Can you embrace the love you’ve always craved, or will fear hold you back?

TW: Kissing, one swear word

A/N: You ask and you shall receive! Ngl I love this fic so much!! Azriel longing has such a special place in my heart fr <3

Masterlist Azriel Masterlist

Azriel was sure he looked pathetic. He looked like a dog; wide, pouty eyes gazing at you longingly as he followed you around with desperate steps.

He was drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Your smile was the sun to his shadows, your laugh music to his silence. He loved how you talked to him - gentle and kind, like he weren’t a man carved from death and pain. 

Tonight was like no other. Stealing glances at you from across the dinner table, his heart was warm with adoration. You were absorbed in a conversation with Feyre, bright smile lighting up the room. Cassian was sitting next to him, chatting his ear away. He wasn’t paying attention, too enraptured by you and your colossal beauty. 

He wasn’t all that surprised when he felt the tug in his chest; a tug that led to you. Despite the suspicion that you were his mate - he’d never felt this comfortable around someone, so warm and fuzzy - he still felt the breath leave his lungs. His nervousness was unmistakable, breathing laboured and cheeks flushed. His heart was racing, his palms sweaty, and his shadows…his shadows were everywhere. 

They were swirling around his shoulders, darting towards you and wrapping around your hair as an invisible force attracted them. It was only when a shadow brushed against your cheek, so slow and caring, that he yanked his shadows back with a brutal force. 

“Az?” Cauldron, your voice was enough to bring him to his knees. Your head was tilted in concern and he knew if he looked around the table everyone would be wearing the same concerned look. 

“I-” His voice cracked, a rare slip in his usually perfect facade. “Sorry. I’m fine.” He wasn’t. And his shadows betrayed that as they reached out once again towards you as if wanting to confirm the bond was actually there. That it exists. 

He had to force them away from you once again, taking everything in him to stay in his seat when all he wanted to do was go down on his knees and beg for your love and acceptance of the bond.

 ๋࣭ ⭑

Azriel’s nervousness had amplified. It was embarrassing how his heart would stutter when you got too close. Or how his breathing would stop when you touched him in any way, even if it was a mere shoulder tap. 

His shadows, a lifelong companion, have betrayed him in ways unthinkable. They don’t listen. He can no longer trust them around you. Like now, you’re walking next to him, shoulders brushing against his own as you talk about your latest mission for the Night Court. 

Your conversation was momentarily interrupted as someone’s arm bumps harshly into yours. Azriel’s eyes narrow in a glare, instinctively wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into him. 

“I'm okay, don’t worry.” He looks down at the hand that’s found its way to his arm, squeezing it comfortingly. “Good. She didn’t even apologise.” Azriel would like to blame the mating bond for his protectiveness, but, truthfully, he’d been this protective before the bond even snapped. 

You started walking, smiling once again. Azriel could still feel the anger boiling in his gut, his attentive eyes noting the shadows that swirled around your ankles, watching with a grimace as they continued to rise and slowly envelope you in darkness. 

Return to me. 

They rise quicker, your legs hidden. You’ve stopped in your tracks, eyes flitting up to look at Azriel curiously. 

Return to me. Now.

They wrap around your waist and you move away from the busy sidewalk. “Azriel? What’s going on?” He grits his teeth, your voice an echo in his head as he tries to regain his composure. 

Listen. Return.

They begin to wrap around your arms, almost your whole body shrouded in darkness. Your eyes, thankfully not panicked, scour the streets, looking for the danger that could explain why Azriel’s shadows were acting up. 

Enough. Go. 

His shadows hesitated around your frame, the icy chill of Azriel’s voice reminding them who their commander was. One by one, Azriel watched them slip away and into the darkness, banished into a space where they couldn’t interact with him or anyone else for the time being. 

“I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.” His voice was raw, cheeks flushing and eyes moving everywhere but your own. Your smile is filled with adoration and understanding. Azriel was too blinded by his nervousness to see it. “It’s okay. Let’s go get lunch.”

 ๋࣭ ⭑

Azriel was going crazy. Sitting in the corner of the room, his hands clench and unclench as he watches you. The dim lighting in the living room does enough to hide Azriels shadows from everyone else. 

The moment you entered the room, his heart rate picked up and his shadows sharted flitting around the room erratically. Since then, he’s attempted to momentarily ignore you in a desperate hope to slow the beating of his heart and leash his shadows. 

“How…is your garden going? Did you plant those Dasies you got?” Azriel mutters distractedly, eyes still on you even as he talks to Elain. Her candy-like voice reaches his ears and he forces himself to look at her. 

“My garden’s going well! The daises really suit the rest of the garden. The white is a nice contrast with the buttercups-”

“Azriel, what the fuck?” Cassian’s confused voice cuts Elain off from her passionate rambling, his head snapping to look at him from where he sits next to you, hand raised above your shoulder like he was about to touch you. 

But he can’t. Azriel’s eyes move from Cassian's confused, worried ones and down his arm to watch the shadows swirl around his arm and hand. The shadows are physically preventing Cassian from placing his hand on your shoulder. They wrap around tighter and tighter until Cassian’s face twitches in pain. 

“You’re gonna have to explain this, Az,” Cassian teases, shaking out his arm. His voice was light, but his eyes flickered with genuine concern.

“Enough,” He muttered through clenched teeth, voice low in command. The trembling shadows obeyed, shooting away from Cassian's figure and back to Azriel, swirling around his ear as they whispered apologies in hopes of subduing the anger of their master. 

They don’t stay by him for long, Azriel’s nervousness growing as the eyes of his family lock onto him. His shadows reflect his anxiety, darting from corners of the room and swirling around bodies. As a shadow twirls around Rhysand’s neck once again, Azriel stands up abruptly. 

“I need to go,” Is all he mutters before leaving for the House of Wind with a brutal tug on his shadows, ensuring they follow his orders. 

What in the cauldron was wrong with him?

  ๋࣭ ⭑

“What’s wrong with you?” The question quite literally stuns Azriel in silence. He’d been locked up in his room for days now, trying meditating tactics to calm his shadows - even going to Madja to see if she could help in any way. She couldn’t. He hadn’t seen you in days, and, despite the desperate longing in his chest, he’d rather it be that he doesn’t see you instead of embarrassing himself. Again. 

You’d grown worried in his absence, constantly asking your family if they’d heard from him. Cassian had grown sick of your constant questions and offered to fly you up to the House of Wind himself. 

You had happily taken him up on the offer, leading to you now standing in Azriels room, hands on your hips as you inspect his tense stance and flushed cheeks. “What’s wrong?” You repeat again, eyes narrowed as his shadows leave his side, seemingly darker than usual.

You’re still not used to how vulnerable he looks when his shadows aren’t around him. He looks so lost, hands fidgeting in front of him while his wide, brown eyes watch as his shadows leave him. 

“Nothing’s wrong…My shadows are just acting up.” His eyes flit to the ground, folding his arms against his chest to stop his nervous fidgeting. “I’m sorry if I’ve been worrying you. I just needed to figure out what’s wrong with them.”

You smile apologetically, pulling him into a hug so you can feel his warm body against yours. Warmth coats your skin and you bite your lip to stop yourself from saying something stupid like ‘I love you.’ 

A shadow slinking up the wall catches your eye. “Um…” You mutter, still hugging him tightly. “I didn’t know your shadows could create shapes and stuff.” You feel him pull away, albeit hesitantly. He turns to look at where you’re pointing, a quiet curse slipping from his lips. 

There, against the wall, rests a lone shadow, the darkness taking the form of a clawed hand, desperately reaching out to your own shadow, formed by the dim fae lights. It’s almost sad how it fights to get closer, yanking at invisible chains, stretching its long fingers in an attempt to touch you. 

Azriel sucks in a sharp breath, placing a strict yet gentle hand on your back and slowly pushing you out of his room, all the while rambling. “I don’t know what’s happening.” Push. “You need to leave.” Push. “-what?-”  “I’ll talk to you later.” Push.  “-wait-” With one more push, you’re standing outside his room. 

You nod in defeat, your protests ignored.  “I’ll come and see you after my date tomorrow night.” He quite literally freezes in the doorway. “Date?” Before you can say anything, his shadows swarm around behind him, slinking behind gaps to reach you. The swarm around his wings, the darkest they’ve ever been. They seem to lash out, yanking at his hair. 

He slams the door before the shadows can reach you. A quiet curse and thump is heard from the other side. You can faintly see a shadow slithering between the gap in the door before it’s yanked back. 

Oh. Your heart is still racing at what just happened. He’s left you standing there in a pool of nervousness, anxious fingers attacking your nails as you debate whether or not you should knock on the door and ask if he’s okay. 

You decide against it. 

  ๋࣭ ⭑

The evening was interesting enough. The good-looking male was nothing short of kind. He had opened doors for you, pulled out your chair and bought you flowers. The warm glow of the candles at each table along with the gentle jazz music helped put your mind at ease, despite being on a date with a man you knew you could never truly love. 

You smile politely at the male's joke, sipping your wine, knowing deep in your heart that something is missing. Azriel had stolen your heart years ago, practically yanked it out of your chest and refused to return it. No matter how many males you talk to or sleep with, no one could replace him. 

“So you work for the High Lord and High Lady?” He asks curiously. You nod, playing with your food. “Yeah, I have a range of roles but I’m mostly a diplomat.” His smile was kind and attentive, nodding along as a sign for you to keep talking. “I-It’s a fun job. They’re like my family and I’d do anything for them.” 

“I have a feeling you’d do anything for a lot of people, wouldn’t you? You seem sweet.” His hand reaches out, fingers gently grazing yours before completely holding your hand, fingers lacing between yours. 

His hand feels weird. Too soft. You crave the rough scars that should be grazing against your palm. The tight way Azriel holds your hand (when he dares to; usually with the excuse that you’re in danger). 

“Thank you-”

The air shift is subtle but you notice it almost immediately. The temperature dropped, a chill slinking up your spine despite the warmth of the restaurant. You glance around, suddenly aware of how shadows deepen in the corners of the room. 

“Do you want my jacket?” Your date asks, brows furrowing as he notes the goosebumps trailing up your arm. “No. Thank you.” You smile, trying to return your attention back to the conversation at hand but it's captured by the flickering light in front of you. The flame of the candle danced erratically, as though it was caught in an invisible wind. 

Then you felt it. 

A wisp of darkness slipped between you and your date's hand. You gasp, yanking your hand back to your side with a speeding heart. The shadow didn’t stay away from you for long, slithering around your wrist tightly and anchoring itself to you. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, leaning closer and inspecting your face. You nod, laughing awkwardly. “Yeah, everything’s fine-”

Before you could finish your sentence, the shadows surge. 

First, they twist around your ankle, raising up and up until your legs feel trapped, so tightly surrounded by shadows it feels restricting. Then they move to your arms, twisting until you can barely move them, pressed to your side and unwilling to move. 

“I- I need to go. I’m sorry.” Panic ceases as you struggle to stand, your heart beating faster while the shadows grip tighter. You ignore the protests of your date, sending an apologetic smile while you walk out, the shadows loosening up enough for you to move your legs. 

Though they loosen around your legs, their grip on your arms grows tighter by the minute. It’s constricting, suffocating even. As you scavenge to find the leader of these shadows, your panic worsens. You. Can’t. Move. Your. Arms. 

You search the bustling streets for any sign of Azriel, figuring he’d be close since his shadows were. But, after ten minutes of looking, and fresh rain dripping down your clothes, you try to find another way. 

You lift your arm to your mouth, whispering desperately, “Get Azriel.” The shadow shoots away in seconds, rushing off into the distance while you find a bench to sit on, uncaring of the rain that pours freely. 

After a few minutes of waiting in the cool rain, the loud flap of wings is the first of Azriel to greet you. Next, it's the shout of your name as he rushes towards you. He abruptly stops in front of you, eyes blown wide as he takes in the sight of his shadows slithering over your body like a snake. 

“What-”

“Get them off. I can barely feel my arms.” Your glare is lethal, the numb feeling in your arms getting stronger. His eyebrows furrow in worry, eyes squeezing shut in an attempt to focus. “Stop.” 

Everything halts at once. The shadows stop moving, returning to their owner hesitantly. “I am-” He shakes his head, any ounce of frustration leaving his body as soon as his eyes meet yours. “I am so sorry. They’ve been so out of control recently. I was so absorbed in my own thoughts I didn’t even notice they were gone.”

“They interrupted-”

“Calduron, did they hurt you? I’m so sorry-"

“-Stop Azriel.” He halts, eyes looking down in shame. “This whole thing has been getting out of hand. I was on a date, Azriel. What’s going on? This has never happened before.” You place a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look into your eyes as he speaks. 

“I’m really sorry. I hope they didn’t hurt you. They’ve been acting up ever since the mating bond snapped and I don't know how to control it- They get so protective over you because I feel so protective. I’m trying to control it, I just think, because the bond just recently snapped they’re unsure of how to act around you-”

“The what now?” Your breathing stutters, your voice cracking in nervousness as you try to absorb everything he just said. Mating bond? He’s your mate? The one you’ve loved for so long is your mate?

“The-” He steps away, flinching when he processes what he’s said. Turning his back to you, he looks the part of a fallen angel, wings drooped, shoulders hunched while rain drips down his wings. “The mating bond,” he whispers in defeat. 

You take a slow, timid step towards him. “The mating bond?” Your heart skips a beat, breathing ragged as a strange feeling warms your chest. A phantom string tugs at your heart, connecting you to your one true love. “The mating bond.” You say more confidently, a tentative hand reaching out to touch Azriel’s shoulder.  

His back relaxes at your touch, head moving to look at you over his muscled shoulder. “I need you. So badly. I need you like the air I breathe. Please, if you’re going to turn me down do it quickly.”

You shake your head, shaking hand moving to his chin, turning him so he’s facing you. “Who says I don’t need you the way you need me? I’ve loved you for so long. I’m ecstatic to be your mate?” 

Rain drips from his hair and down his nose. You quickly wipe it away. His scarred hands move to your cheeks and he does the same for you, brushing the rain away from your face like he were protecting a precious painting. 

“You love me?” His eyes, so filled with love and hope have your heart melting. 

“Of course I do, honey.” 

“I love you too.” 

You smile, heart so full you feel like it could burst. “Then kiss me.” 

He does just that, warm, soft lips grazing against yours cautiously. He pulls away, eyes looking into yours. When he sees nothing but glee, he dips his head to kiss you again, this time more ferociously. All the longing and desperation he had been withholding leaked out in one kiss, the cold rain barely noticed in the warmth of the kiss. 

He pulls away, gasping for breath as his forehead falls against yours. Shadows return once again, trailing up your back, through your hair and wrapping around your arms causing you to gasp. “You're mine,” He mutters. 

“I’m yours.”

The shadows dance in joy. 

[wwooyology]

Prove It To You | J.YH

「pairing」 : yunho x fem!reader 「word count」 : 3.5k

「synopsis」 : you could feel the end of your relationship coming, and yunho saw his opportunity to finally take his chances to show you just how much better he was than that asshole you called your boyfriend.

「genre」 : frat boy!yunho, uni au, angst, a small bit of fluff, smut

「warning」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, cussing, kissing, infidelity, unprotected sex, dom!yunho x sub!reader, slight size kink, big dick!yunho, biting/marking, fingering, clit play, breast play, teasing, begging, yunho is just a little bit possessive, petnames (baby, darling, sweetheart, my love), semi-rough sex, multiple orgasms, praising, creampie, readers bf hears from the other room, sloppy makeout, lmk if I missed anything!

「notes」 : tbh this idea stemmed from a memory of something similar that happened to me, except it wasn't a guy I was dating. it was a guy that I was crushing on, but sadly I didn't have a yunho back then </3

It was maybe close to three in the morning, and you were still awake as your so-called boyfriend slept peacefully on his bed. You had tagged along with him and your other friends who lived in the frat house to hang out; however, as soon as the others excused themselves to either leave or go to bed, you were left alone with him. At first, you thought you two could watch a movie before going to bed, but he just hummed while scrolling through his phone. He lay in bed while you sat on the ground.

“Just put on whatever you want.” His tone was uninterested as you turned to look at him and he didn’t even take a moment to look at you.

Defeated, you just put on a random show to watch, knowing that he wouldn’t pay attention to anything. You had planned a whole night for the two of you after everyone had left, seeing as he had been out of town with his family for the past two weeks. Yet now he acted as if you were the least important thing to him.

The movie hadn’t even played halfway through when you heard his soft snores behind you; looking over your shoulder, you saw that he was sprawled out all over the queen-sized bed. Letting out a huff, you rolled your eyes before going back to the movie.

Until you started to get tired, but you didn’t really feel like sleeping in the same bed as your boyfriend right now. However, you also couldn’t just leave because you had ridden in with your boyfriend, and everyone was already asleep.

You stood to your feet before bending down and grabbing your phone off of the ground, then walking out of the room, not bothering to turn anything off. The house was quiet, which was a strange thing to you because the frat house was always lively, but you just shrugged it off before carefully making your way down the stairs. Getting to the first floor, you looked around the dark room with the small light of your phone’s lock screen and made your way to the front door.

Unlocking the door, you pulled it open and slipped out of the house. As soon as you stepped outside, you were met with the harsh, cold winter winds, causing you to shiver. Shutting the door, you walked over to the step, sat down, and pulled your phone out again.

Opening the screen, you thought about using the rideshare app to get a ride back to the dorms, but it was a Friday night, and it was late at night, so you quickly closed the app once more. You debated walking back, but you were all the way across campus, and once again, it was late.

“Fucking hell.” You cursed quietly as you shoved your hands into the pockets of your coat along with your phone as the cold started to settle into your bones.

Leaning against the railings, you just watched as a few cars drove by, and you could feel yourself starting to drift off. Your eyes fluttered closed once more, and you hadn’t even heard the front door open behind you.

“Why are you trying to sleep outside?” His voice startled you right awake, and your whole body twisted as you looked up at Yunho. He stood just a few feet behind you with his arms crossed over his chest, his hair a mess, making you believe that he had just woken up. Your heart beat rapidly against your ribcage as you looked at him. Ever since you had been introduced to him, there has been an unspoken attraction, but you never act on it because of your boyfriend.

Swallowing thickly, you turned away, “I’d rather sleep out here than in there.” Your voice was soft as you pulled your knees to your chest, your skirt riding up your hips.

Yunho eyed you carefully before stepping forward and taking a seat next to you, leaving a comfortable space between your bodies. You looked over at him for a moment before turning back to look at the empty street.

“I figured you would be cozy in bed with fuckface.” You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his choice words knowing very well that Yunho and your boyfriend never got along, but you had no idea why.

After a few moments, you inhaled deeply before breathing out, watching your breath fog in the air. “I would be, but he seemed to be more interested in whatever was on his phone than me.” You let out a short laugh before looking over at Yunho, who was staring at you with an unreadable expression.

Yunho’s jaw tightened as he looked at you. He wasn’t sure how anyone could treat you so harshly. If your boyfriend wasn’t just bluntly ignoring you, he was short and seemed uninterested in doing anything that involved you unless it was with your group of friends. Yunho hated it and had believed that he could treat you so much better, but you never left that asshole; far too kind to end things.

But tonight, Yunho had enough, and he was determined to show you that you deserved so much more.

“Yunho?” You called out to the tall male, waving a hand in front of his face, trying to snap him out of whatever daze he had fallen into.

A gasp fell from your lips when he grabbed your wrist, pulling you into him. Your other hand flew out to catch yourself, landing right on his thigh. With wide eyes, you looked up to ask him what he was doing, but he cut you off as his lips smashed into yours. His tongue swiped over your lips, the sweet taste of your lipgloss invading his taste buds. It wasn’t until his hand wrapped around the back of your neck that you pushed away from him with wide eyes.

“We can’t.” Your voice was quiet, eyes glued to your lap, and Yunho let out a deep sigh. He leaned forward, laying his forehead against yours.

“Forget about that jerk, y/n; he doesn’t deserve you.” He told you, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, and you looked up at him with misty eyes. “Let me take care of you. Let me show you how you deserve to be treated. Please.”

Your brain turned into a warzone as you stared into his eyes, contemplating the repercussions of your action. There was no love in your relationship with your boyfriend anymore, and you were sure that he would take the first chance he could to leave you.

Yunho was so much more than he was, and deep down, you knew that; he was always attentive to your needs and cared more than your boyfriend has ever in the entirety of your relationship. The only thing that held you back was you were too scared to leave your boyfriend, but now you couldn't care less. If he wasn’t going to care for you correctly, Yunho would.

And that’s all it took for you to lean forward to seal your lips over Yunho’s once more.

Yunho’s grip on your neck tightened, pulling you closer to his body, wanting you as close as physically possible. Your lips were soft against his and tasted like sweet cherries; it was driving him nuts. Once the both of you were out of air, you pulled apart, a small string of saliva still connecting your lips.

“Let’s go inside.” Yunho rasped, and you quickly nodded before standing up with him and following him back into the house.

As soon as you were inside his bedroom, Yunho’s lips were back on yours, stealing all the air from your lungs. His hands cupped your face as he stepped back, leading you to his bed. You let out a gasp when the back of your knees hit the edge of his bed, and you fell back.

Yunho chuckled before crawling over your body, trapping you with his and bringing his lips back down to yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring every inch, trying to memorize every part. Your hands moved up to wrap around his shoulders, pulling him even closer to you.

“God, I can’t even tell you how long I’ve waited for this.” He groaned against your lips as your hips rolled up, brushing against his growing erection. Heat pooled in your core, and the pressure was almost unbearable as he moved away to look down at you.

“Yunho.” You whined softly, hands tugging at his shirt, causing him to smirk, his hand moving to grab your chin.

“What do you want, baby?” He asked, pulling your attention back to him, and he felt his dick twitch in his sweat at the needy and lustful look in your eyes.

“You. I just want you.” You breathed out, wrapping your hand around his wrist as you looked up at him.

“How could I tell you no when you look so desperate.” He teased, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips before moving his hands down to your skirt. “But I gotta prep you first, darling.”

You opened your mouth to protest but the sharp look he gave you instantly had you closing your lips once more. Yunho then unzipped your skirt before pulling it down your legs and throwing it somewhere in his room. Not even seconds after the cloth left his hand he grabbed your shirt, telling you to sit up and pulling it off.

Yunho felt like his body was about to combust at the sight of your pretty lace lilac lingerie, the cloth hugging your curves in all of the right places. You felt small under his gaze as he continued to stare at you, his fingers tracing along the seams. A soft moan fell from your lips when he brushed over your erect nipple.

“Did you wear this for him?” His voice was low as he leaned over your body again, face inches away from yours, and you just looked up at him with hooded eyes.

“It’s for you now.” You cooed, cupping his face as you looked up at him, brushing your thumb over his bottom lip.

Yunho smirks, his large hand grabbing your waist, causing your back to arch up, giving him just enough room to unclasp your bra. Once the piece of clothing was off of your body and off somewhere in the room, Yunho’s lips latched onto your collarbone.

He left a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your chest until he got to your soft mounds. A sharp moan fell from your lips when he took one of your buds into his mouth. Yunho took his time with your chest, marking almost every inch of skin he possibly could, relishing in the sounds that left your pretty lips.

“Yunho…” You whined, back arching against him as his hand slipped under your underwear, cupping your wet heat. The feeling of his hands on your body was electrifying, like nothing that you’ve felt before.

“Already so wet for me,” He groaned against your skin, moving up to your neck as his slender fingers pressed against your clit.

A choked moan fell from your lips as he started to circle your sensitive bud, his lips pressing wet kisses along your jugular. He soaked in all of the noises you made as your fingers tugged at his shirt; he was determined to make sure that you only knew his name.

“Yu–” You were cut off when he slipped a finger into your tight cunt, brushing over spots that you’ve never been able to reach. Tears pricked at your eyes as he kept a steady pace, watching you closely and studying all of the expressions you made.

“You’re so tight, sweetheart. I’m not sure you’ll be able to take me.” He pouted as he added a second finger, stretching you out and pulling another moan from your swollen lips.

“I-I can take it, I promise!” You choked out, looking up at him with so much need, and your hand wrapped around the back of his neck.

“You’re such a good little thing, aren’t you?” He hummed, picking up his pace after adding a third finger. 

You’ve never felt this full before, and your high was right on the tip of your tongue; you just needed a little bit more. Noticing, Yunho pressed his thumb against your clit, circling the nub in time with his thrusts causing your eyes to roll back as you came undone.

“Yunho!”  You cried out his name as he worked you through your orgasm, his lips pressing against your temple.

“I’ve got you, baby. Let it all go.” He spoke softly, his pace slowing to a stop, and you lay there breathing heavily. Yunho pulled his fingers from your soaping cunt, and wrapped them around the flimsy fabric before pulling them down your legs.

Your body still felt like it was on fire, the burning need for more almost suffocating as you sat up. A chuckle left Yunho’s mouth as you tugged at his shirt, begging him to take it off.

“You’re so cute when you’re all needy.” He cooed as he pulled his shirt over his head and pulled his sweats down his hips, letting them pool on the ground.

Your eyes went wide, seeing the outline of his cock under his boxers; he was big. Noticing your expression, Yunho grabbed your chin and pulled your eyes back to his. Leaning forward before he sealed your lips in another kiss as he laid you back down, hands traveling down to your hips.

He pulled away for a moment, but you tried to pull him back, not getting enough of his taste, and he pressed a kiss on the corner of your lips, “Hold on, I need to grab a condom.” He then moved to make a grab at his nightstand, but you quickly sat up, grabbing his arm.

“No! I want to feel all of you, Yun, please.” You pleaded with him, your bottom lip jutting out as you looked at him. He looked back at you in shock, wondering if he had heard you correctly. “I’m on the pill, please.”

Yunho felt like he could cum right then and there at the thought of fucking you raw, but then he started to wonder if you let your boyfriend fuck you raw too. Noticing the conflict in his eyes, you reached up, cupping his face.

“He’s never fucked me without a condom, just you.” Your voice was soft, and Yunho looked at you for a long moment before his lips crashed into yours once more.

“I love you, fuck. I love you so much.” He told you, and he tugged his boxers down, letting his aching cock spring free. He pulled your hips closer to his, not once leaving your lips in the process, even swallowing all of your moans as he teased your entrance with his tip.

“Fuck! Yunho, please!” You whined, rolling your hips, trying to get him to push in already, and he smirked.

He watched your face contort in pleasure as he started to push into your wet cunt, splitting you open, and you gasped out. You started to question whether or not you would actually be able to take him as tears started to spill from the corner of your eyes.

“C’mon, sweetheart, you said you could take it.” Yunho teased as he continued to push into you, and you choked out his name.

“I can– fuck!” You cried, wanting to be good and take all of him, and Yunho watched in amusement as you brought your hand up to cover your mouth as your moans got louder.

Yunho was almost fully in when you grabbed his wrist that was beside you, your brain going hazy at the sudden fullness. Incoherent babbles fell from your lips, and Yunho chuckled as he took in your already fucked out state.

“I’m not even fully in you yet, and I’ve already fucked you stupid.” He sat up a bit to grab your hips, using the leverage to push the rest of the way in. A choked moan fell from your lips at the sudden movement, your eyes rolling back. “God, you feel so fucking good, sweetheart.” He groaned, fighting off the urge to move, wanting you to get adjusted first.

“Y-Yunho…” You breathed out; all of your nerves felt like they were on fire, but it still wasn’t enough. “Fuck me, please!” Your eyes cracked open, gazing up at him with a teary gaze and Yunho felt the last bit of his composure crumble away.

“My pleasure, baby.” He growled before pulling out and slamming back into you, eliciting a loud moan.

Yunho’s pace was relentless, allowing no room for you to breathe, and stars danced across your vision. Your moans were bouncing off the walls, and Yunho was sure that the neighbors could hear how good he was fucking you. Then he suddenly remembered that your boyfriend was still asleep in the next room, and a sinister smirk spread across his face.

“You’re mine now, sweetheart.” He told you, leaning down to press a kiss against your jaw, and you nodded your head, all words lost to you. Kissing his way up to your ear, he nipped at your earlobe, causing your body to shiver, and another broken moan fell from your lips. “Tell me who you belong to, baby.”

“You,”

“Say my name,” Yunho growled, pulling away to pick up his pace once more, and you let out a pitiful squeak.

“Yunho.” You cried out, fingers wrapping around his wrist as your head fell back when he brushed over your sweet spot.

However, that wasn’t good enough for Yunho, “louder.”

“Yunho!” His name fell from your lips even louder than last time, but again, it wasn’t quite enough for the male.

“Louder!”

“YUNHO!” You screamed his name when he pressed down on your clit, causing stars to cloud your vision, your high right around the corner.

A triumphant smile spread across Yunho’s face when he heard movement on the other side of the wall, knowing full well that your boyfriend had heard you. The smile was soon wiped away, replaced with a groan as you tightened around his swollen cock.

“Fuck!” He cursed as he felt his own high creep up on him, and he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, especially if you kept squeezing him like that.

“Yun, ‘m close!” You cried out, back arching off of the bed as the knot in the pit of your stomach tightened.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, cum for me. Make a mess all over my cock.” His words were the last push you needed before you came all over his cock. He groaned as he looked down to see the milky white ring forming around the base of his cock.

“Yunho!” You cried out as he continued to fuck into you at his merciless pace, white spots littering your vision as he abused your sweet spot.

“I’m almost there, baby, just a little bit more.” He cooed, leaning down to capture your lips with his in a sweet kiss as his thrusts became sloppy before he shook in your hold as he came, painting your velvet walls white. “F-Fucking hell.”

Coming down from your highs, Yunho laid on your chest after he pulled out. Both of you just lay there as you tried to catch your breath, your fingers running through Yunho’s hair as he held you close.

You were then snapped out of your trance when you heard movement in the next room, realizing that your boyfriend’s room was right next to Yunho’s, and your heart dropped. Noticing the change in your mood, Yunho lifted his head, resting his chin on your chest.

“What’s wrong, my love?” He asked, and your heart swelled at the endearing pet name.

“I think he heard everything,” You whispered as you glanced down at him, worry written all over your features and Yunho let out a sigh before pushing himself up until he was hovering over you once again.

“He definitely heard something, but it’s his loss. You’re mine now.” He told you before leaning down and kissing you once again, his kiss filled with so much love and need it pushed all other thoughts away.

After a few moments he pulled away, cupping your face in his hand, his thumb brushing over your cheek. You wrapped your hand around his wrist as you looked up at him with a soft smile, soaking in all of the affection he was giving you. Pulling him back down, your eyes fluttered closed as his lips brushed over yours.

“I’m all yours.” You confirmed his statement before sealing the kiss, all thoughts of your ex-boyfriend no longer clouding your mind. It was all replaced with Yunho and the feeling of his lips and body on yours, showering you with all of the love and appreciation that you deserved.

@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[hylemorph]

Spoilers: Eggers' Nosferatu

There's a lot of debate right now on if Count Orlok represents Ellen's shame/trauma/abuse, or if he represents her repressed erotic desires, and in turn there's debate on whether or not viewers who find the Ellen/Orlok dynamic alluring are "missing the point." Eggers and Lily-Rose Depp have both said in interviews that there's a mutual pull between Ellen and Orlok, and even that there's a love triangle element, but obviously the experience is terrifying for Ellen. How can we reconcile the sexual tension and the horror?

I think the broader theme is that Orlok represents everything in a woman's inner world that men refuse to acknowledge and accept - fear and shame and trauma, yes, but also our appetites . After the prologue, the story starts with Ellen begging Thomas to stay in bed with her; she says "the honeymoon was yet too short" and tries to pull him in and kiss him (obviously trying to start some nuptial bliss). But Thomas is anxious to meet with his boss and get his promotion, because he has a narrative he's going to fulfill: he's going to pay Friedrich back, buy a house, and then start having kids (he and Friedrich touch on this a bit later. Notably, Friedrich discloses Anna's pregnancy to Thomas before Anna has made it public.)

It's the start of Ellen and Thomas' married life and she just wants him to prioritize her sexual desire, but he chooses to focus on his ideal of success, which sets him on this path to confronting Orlok. We know Ellen doesn't care about having a house or fine things and she begs him not to go, but Thomas listens to Herr Knock and Friedrich, who tell him that as a husband he has to provide materially. He ignores Ellen's stated desires, and so fails to provide sexually and emotionally. When Thomas gaslights her about her nightmares and calls them childish fancies, he shuts down her vulnerability, which kills the intimacy she was enjoying in the literal honeymoon phase.

On a related note, there's a defence in here for Aaron Taylor Johnson's performance, which I've seen a few male critics call "over acting." In this story Friedrich represents the masculine ideal of the time, he's a rich business owner with a beautiful wife and kids. Thomas clearly looks up to him and wants to emulate him - he wants to give Ellen the life "she deserves." But Friedrich's elevated masculine status is why he refuses to listen to Ellen's "hysterical, sentimental" worries, he's too rational for all that of course. And his stubborn "rationality" leads to the death of his entire family. Friedrich IS the patriarchal ideal that crumbles when confronted with nuance and uncertainty. Some people see Friedrich and assume that a character like him is meant to come across as dignified, and that Aaron Taylor Johnson is messing up by making him look annoying, but really he is giving a great portrayal of a really common, annoying kind of guy. The kind of guy who melts down and has childish tantrums whenever they lose control of a situation, or their manly skills and values are shown to be irrelevant.

The men in the movie (excluding Professor von Franz) frame Ellen as childish for speaking about her dreams candidly, but their own childishness is revealed when her dreams manifest in the form of Orlok and become unavoidable. Ellen (partially? possessed in the moment by Orlok) tells Thomas how "foolish and like a child" he was in Orlok's castle. In the literal context that's cruel, and obviously that shit was scary as hell, but it hits on Thomas' failure in the metaphorical reading. He was a child playing house: 'I'll be the husband and make money, you be the wife and make babies.' When it came time to confront his wife's inner world and all the scary, traumatized, lustful complexity of it, he was completely inept. The message isn't that Orlok is what Ellen really needs, or that Thomas is a wimp, but he's not a perfect husband either. I think "the point" is that a real healthy marriage with sexual, emotional, and spiritual mutuality is impossible in that society with Thomas/Friedrich's ideals. In that kind of society, a spiritually and sexually potent woman like Ellen ("in heathen times you might have been a Priestess of Isis") will always be caught in a "love triangle" with her husband and her own inner world.

[allowmetohityouwithmyreblog]

Holy shit I love how as the character gets a little more deranged about living here, they start using we, when earlier she had said that their dog didn’t count since he didn’t pay rent, but as it gets closer to the end it becomes not my apartment, our apartment- it goes from ‘I vacuum them up’ to ‘we would have been killing the ants…’ in the same paragraph, when the dog is distinctly not killing or vacuuming anything. (I’d also like to note that while at some points we could imply the dog and the person, there is a point where it is ‘We take our dog,’ which makes no sense if the dog is apart of the we.)

The sentences get a little more frantic in that last big paragraph. Disjointed. As if, for some reason, they’re typing fast. In a way normal people typically don’t type. Unless it’s to convey, this sort of feeling. Then it goes back to normal, and they use shorter paragraphs at the end. And they state that, contrary to how they had been writing previously, they don’t feel frenzied. They’re actually being quite kind. (Though it is phrased with we, again.)

I also love this repetition in certain phrases and ideas— that pamphlet’s tagline: ‘It’s a beautiful place to grow up.’ Or The idea that they love the location more than they hate the oddities of the apartment- at-least, that’s what they’re trying to convince themselves of. I love that in this, time does pass, so the op/author has the months they’ve lived here go up- 5 to 6.

I love that this person doesn’t attack the ghosts- given that the ghosts don’t hurt them. They clearly don’t trust them, but they are kindly to them.

I like this thought I had which might not be intended but I will state it anyways: I enjoy how it looks like the ghosts have just realized that now that somebody actually moved in to their apartment complex, they need to do more to seem like a full complex than just have shadows in the windows and furniture on the porches and cars in the lot. They have to make sound, and it takes awhile for them to figure it out- and they start with mimicry. (Also, the thing about them always getting the last parking spot makes me think that there are as many ghosts as there are cars, and as soon as this person passes, they will be the last ghost/spirit, and the complex will be full and complete— very Disney’s haunted mansion; very ‘There are 999 happy haunts, but there’s room for one more. Care to join us?’ Type vibe.

I love the details about how the ghosts walk weird- and the Idea of them- the person- trying to figure out just how wide that radius of what imma call the ‘’hang up zone’’ actually is.

Anyways, short rant about a piece of writing I fell in love with.

i've seen enough horror movies starring upper-middle-income white families stuck in spacious haunted mansions. gimme stories about millennials stuck in haunted studio apartments. consider the realism:

why is this protagonist staying in an obviously haunted building despite the glaring warning signs? because a week at a motel would send them spiraling into credit card debt, they'll take their chances with the vengeful spirits. why did they chose this apartment complex to begin with, despite the many many unexplained mysterious deaths that show up on the first page of a google search? hon some of us don't have the credit score to move away from high (paranormal) crime areas. how could i be so careless as to sign a soul-binding contract with a demonic entity? bitch they're called LANDLORDS

[lewistoferrari]

study hall [3]

uni student kyle who’s late for his session with you in study hall.

“she’s gonna kill me,” he mutters to himself as he pushes through the double doors, a groan slipping past his lips when he catches your eye.

if looks could kill he’d be dead.

fuck, i’m really in for it now, kyle thinks to himself as the urge to flee increases with each step he takes towards the table you’re occupying.

you really scared the shit out of him sometimes.

one look from you has kyle realizing how much trouble he’s in. you don’t even greet him like you usually do. he quietly dumps his backpack onto the table, while eyeing you warily when you kick his chair away from the table with more force than is necessary.

once he’s seated, kyle has a silent debate with himself. he’s wondering if he should explain his tardiness. but with the way you’re staring at him, he’s not even sure if it matters.

“45 minutes, garrick.”

that’s how late kyle is.

you almost let out a snort when he starts in on his apology right away. “i’m sorry, love. i was—”

but you’re not having any of it.

“save it,” you tell him, your patience finally worn thin. “your communication skills are sorely lacking if you can’t even be bothered to pick up a phone and let me know that you’re running late.”

kyle scowls at your little dig. “look smartass, can we just get this session over with.”

“gladly.” you’ll stop being mad at kyle when he’s no longer in his presence.

you spend the next hour watching kyle talk animatedly while he helps you with your coursework. you have an exam coming up and the class has been kicking your ass lately.

and you’ll never say it out loud—you have no desire to feed his ego—but the more kyle talks, you notice how intelligent he truly is.

no wonder his head is so damn big.

usually when kyle opens his mouth, it’s to utter something that’ll piss you off. he’s the only one who can get under your skin and stay there. you think you might hate professor price for pairing you with kyle, because now you feel like you’re noticing things about him against your will.

you’ve never seen kyle so laser focused, with his nose practically buried in his textbook. you notice the way he talks with his hands whenever he becomes passionate about a certain topic. you do everything you can to ignore the way his brows furrow, and the way he bites his lip when he’s trying to make sense of something.

you close your textbook immediately when you start staring at kyle’s fingers, and the way they grip his textbook. there’s a moment when you think about those same fingers gripping your ass. and you definitely shouldn’t be thinking about kyle’s fingers being anywhere near your pussy either, but you do. you have enough sense to suppress a groan. you shouldn’t be thinking about kyle or his hands. you’re supposed to be hating his ass.

shit.

this is bad.

and to make your situation worse, when you look up, pretty brown doe eyes are staring at you in confusion.

“why are you lookin’ at me like that? is something wrong?” kyle asks.

everything.

“nothing!” you blurt out quickly in a high pitched tone. you try your best to ignore kyle, who’s now looking at you suspiciously, while you shove your belongings into your bag. “i just remembered i have to—”

the shrill tone of your phone ringing interrupts your lie, which is a problem in itself when you see the name on the your screen.

it’s johnny.

not now, you think as you snatch the phone off the table to answer the call. you’re barely paying attention to johnny’s yapping though. you’re too busy staring at kyle, whose demeanor is slowly changing the longer you stay on your phone. your try to wrap the call up as quickly as possible by promising johnny that you’ll be available to help him over the weekend.

“why is soap calling you?” kyle demands as soon as the call ends.

he looks like he wants to throttle someone, but you don’t care.

“wouldn’t you like to know.”

kyle is way too calm for your liking when he asks you if you’re fucking soap.

excuse me?

“i’m not fucking anyone,” you hiss at him, while gathering the rest of your things. “and even if i was, how is that your business? i’m not yours.”

kyle eyes you up and down, “no?”

instead of responding, you walk off. you have every intention on putting as much distance between you and kyle as possible.

he doesn’t let you get far though. there is no warning when he sneaks up on you. with a grip on the back of your neck, kyle steers you to an empty room.

“garrick, what the hell do you think you’re d—”

a pair of soft lips crashing against yours shuts you up immediately.

-

a/n: it took me a minute to get here, but i’m back (i think)

kyle’s masterlist | uni-verse masterlist | main masterlist

[holylulusworld]

How to cure a grump (4)

Summary: You’re losing your job on Christmas.

Pairing: CEO/Boss!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: grumpy Bucky, mistaken identity, kinda fake dating trope, snowed-in trope, John Walker bashing

How to cure a grump (3)

“That audacity,” Bucky angrily mutters. “How dare he talk to you! He should be ashamed of himself and his actions!”

You blink a few times. What happened not minutes ago was mind-boggling. Your former boss, the grumpiest person you ever met, kissed you to save you from embarrassment.

“Why?” You whisper so no one but Bucky can hear you question his intentions. His help surely comes with a price. “What do you want?”

“What?” He furrows his brows, still lost in thoughts, as he watches John and his fiancé walk past your mother.

Your former boyfriend greets your mom, earning an angry look and no response. If it was up to her, he’d lie on the ground bleeding, and his teeth missing.

“We should get the things your mother wanted you to get. Give me the list,” Bucky says. He snatches the list out of your hands as you stand there, frozen to the spot. “You can pay the stuff here, and I’ll get the rest.”

Bucky walks out of the store, nodding at your mother as he hurriedly makes his way toward the next store.

Almost done with your mother’s list, Bucky walks toward the last store. He carries around the paper bags filled with more things your mother needed for dinner.

“It’s you again,” John smirks as Bucky wants to pass him by. It was already a long day. He’s cold and tired. Not to forget, he kissed his former employee and liked it. “I didn’t think she’d find a new guy anytime soon. Not after she lost me.”

John Walker hates losing. Watching Bucky kiss you in public, in front of people knowing him, and you made John furious. He doesn’t care that he ended your relationship and cheated on you. John Walker is the kind of guy wanting to eat his cake and keep it.

“What do you mean, with a guy like you?” Bucky dips his head. “The kind of guy promised a woman marriage and a future only to cheat on her with a cheap imitation?”

John’s face contorts in anger. “A good catch like me. Business owner, house owner, a stallion in the bed.”

Bucky wrinkles his nose. “Usually, when guys tell you they are good in bed, they are quick shots and can’t satisfy a woman.”

“Say,” John leans closer to look Bucky up and down, “does she still only want to fuck with the lights out? She’s a frigid little thing, isn’t she.”

Bucky takes a deep breath. It takes anything in him to not throw the paper bags at John.  He won’t throw punches but fight dirty. “Not with me,” Bucky says, smirking. “I can understand she only wanted to have sex with you in the dark. With a face like yours in front of her, she must’ve been unwell all the damn time…”

John gapes at your former boss, who holds his gaze, still smirking. Without another word, Bucky walks past John, hearing people laugh about John who throws a tantrum like a toddler, calling Bucky names.

“He did what?” The moment you came back home, the phone wouldn’t start ringing. Your aunt was first to call to tell you what Bucky said to John. It didn’t change your mind about your former boss but made you chuckle.

Next was your neighbor across the street. They watched with amusement when John was taken down a peg by your former boss.

Six calls later, you are snorting because it’s John’s fiancée, asking you to tell Bucky to apologize to John. “Yeah, not going to happen, darling. If you’d excuse me now, we are in the middle of our Christmas preparations.”

You ended the call before she could say another word.

“Who was it this time?” Your mother chuckles as you try not to laugh. Of course, she enjoyed every call. Bucky fought fire with fire, and she likes him even better because of it. “Come on, Munchkin. Tell me who it was.”

“John’s fiancée,” you snort. “She wanted James to apologize to John for calling him a quick shot and that he’s got an ugly face.”

She shrugs and says, “What is true, has to remain true. James was right, and people love him for it. Mrs. Applebaum from the end of the street even clapped her hands. You must love James.”

“Mom,” you sigh, deep and exasperated. How can you reveal now that your mother likes your former boss so much, that you hate him? “Please don’t tell him that you love him.”

“Who loves who?” Bucky casually walks inside the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear. He enjoyed that you got flustered around him on the trip back to your mother’s house. “I parked the car.”

“Thank you, Jamie,” your mother coos and winks at Bucky. “I know it’s a bummer they didn’t have a free room for you, but you can stay here for Christmas. We have more than enough space and food. Right, Y/N?”

“Right,” you say, even though, you feel like this is a conspiracy between your mother and your former boss. “Uh—I’ll check on the heating and if we got enough wood for the fireplace.

“Munchkin,” your mother says, “why don’t you show James around the house? He hasn’t seen much of it.”

You give up and simply nod. Whatever you say would only hurt your mother’s feelings. If you must, you’ll play pretend over Christmas. You can always tell her that you and Bucky split up. The last thing you want is to ruin Christmas for your mom.

“Alright, show me around Y/N,” Bucky smirks at you. He’s enjoying this too much for your liking. “I can hardly wait to see every nook at your home.”

You grit your teeth but say nothing. Every word would only make your mother suspicious or cause a fight between you and your former boss.

So, you bite your tongue and politely ask him to follow you, murder in your eyes.

“Your mom is very nice,” he says while walking next to you. “What do you want to show me first?”

You walk upstairs, guiding Bucky away from your mother. You’re seething and can’t hold back any longer.

Grabbing him by his jacket, you push Bucky against the wall next to your room. “What kind of game are you playing?” You accuse. “I know you’re having a blast lying to my mom, but if you dare to make fun of her home, I’ll castrate you.”

“Whoa,” he yelps when you slam your fist into the wall beside his head. “When I said your mom is nice, I meant it. She invited me in and let me stay at her home for free. I’d never make fun of her or her home.”

“Good.” You step away from Bucky, exhaling deeply to calm down. “Listen, this is an odd situation. If you want to stay here for Christmas, it’s fine by me. I owe you for John and…you know.”

Bucky doesn’t mention the kiss, and you're thankful for it. “How about you show me the rest of the house, and we discuss how we keep on pretending to be in love…”

Tags in reblog.

[corkinavoid]

No Eyed Girl by Lemon Demon

Star Crossed Lovers

Space aesthetic

:3

(Can you tell I'm in love with aliens and space?)

DPxDC In Love With Space

"Someone's excited," Cassie teases, but Tim doesn't pay her any attention. The Bioship carries them through the clouds and up, closer and closer to the stars, and Tim's heart flutters a little in his chest.

"I don't think I've ever seen you so eager to get away from Earth before," Kon muses, leaning forward to get a better look at Tim's expression, and that causes him to blink and finally look away from the endless void of space that awaits them.

"I'm not really eager to get away," he corrects, and, in a moment of brilliant mischief - because one never just misses an opportunity to mess with their teammates - grins, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly. "It's just that when you spend a long time in love with space, it eventually falls in love with you, too."

Kon's face looks rightfully confused, which is exactly what Tim was aiming for. But not for long.

Not after a sound of fleeting, flattered distant laughter rings through the ship, and Kon's face shifts from confusion into alarm. But Tim's heart skips a bit for an entirely different reason, and he runs a hand over his cheek, trying to cool it down because it feels like his face is actually on fire now.

Shit, he definitely heard that.

Not that Tim minds, he'd say it again to his face, but... Let's say he was simply caught off-guard. Yeah, that's definitely why he is now a color of a tomato, and not because his boyfriend is a stalking little shit that decided on the most dramatic coming out possible.

He hears the worried voices of his friends behind him, something about the Bioship detecting a mass of something unidentifiable right in front of them, but he doesn't listen. Sure, he could tell them it's okay. He could explain that he knows exactly what said 'mass' is.

But he is decidedly not about to ruin Danny's performance because where's the fun in that?

The space in front of them shifts. Not inside the ship, no, the whole starry sky out the window moves, like it's merely a picture and not actual galaxies and nebulae out there. And then, there's another sound, like an ice crack in the distance, and a big, roughly the size of Tim's whole body, arm comes through the front shield of the Bioship. It's made of the empty darkness and bright stars, a piece of vast universe given form, and the claws clink against the metal floors as more and more of this impossible being comes through the reinforced glass and onto the deck.

It has no eyes of mouth, and its hair is merely a messy outline on top of their head. It's just... stars, planets, and comets and galaxies shaped in a vaguely humanoid form.

The form that stops trying to get inside the ship when it gets themselves in just halfway, and then lies its chin down on its elbows, their face right in front of Tim's. Or, well, not face, since it lacks all kinds of facial features, but Tim still feels that fond gaze of theirs on himself.

"Talking about me with your friends behind my back, Starlight, I see how it is," the being chuckles, tilting it's head to the side, the whisps of their hair floating gently in the air. Their voice sounds like a whisper of a shooting star, a roar of an avalanche, a gentle hum of electricity, all at once.

"Rob, what-" he hears Cassie start, but he is already taking a step closer, carefully pressing a kiss to where the being's cheek should be. It's a little weird when he is in this form, what with his head being twice as big as Tim's own, but, sue him, he likes the drama of it no less than Danny does.

Right on cue, his teammates all gasp and choke on air behind him.

"Hi, dear," he teases his boyfriend slightly, and Danny reaches one of his clawed hands forward, very carefully wrapping his fingers around Tim's body.

"When you spend a long time in love with space, it does eventually fall in love with you, too, yes," he gently repeats and confirms Tim's words from before, and Tim can't see it, but he knows Danny is smiling.

He also knows he is smiling as well.

~•~•~•~

Just for fun, as a finishing touch, here's the aesthetic I put together for this:

I really, really loved the song, by the way, I think I'm going to play that on repeat now.

Hope you like the piece!

[selenelion-rain]

Some books to get into if you're struggling after only reading fanfiction for so long, they're bound to be personal to me, but they're what helped. So if I can help someone else that's like me, it's worth it.

Something all of these have in common is a very casual prose, and usually an emotion driven story/characters. They can read very similarly to the way fanfiction reads, but are all original, standalone works. Hopefully ones that can get you into reading more! (If Audiobooks work better for you, listen to them!! Local Libraries and Libby offer free audiobooks, YouTube will sometimes have Audiobooks of public domain works, and Spotify has many included with its premium if you're already listening to songs and podcasts, but don't can't/want to pay for another subscription/app.)

Light Novels. Light novels generally have a faster, fluid pace. Often very casually toned writing in my experience. Many animes and Donghuas have light novels! They essentially read like Manga, but without the pictures. The prose is very much filled with emotion. I binge read 'Heaven Official's Blessing' as the books came out in English. It was the most I had read in a long time. About a god who has ascended to heaven for the third time, after getting kicked out twice before.

Terry Pratchett. Terry Pratchett has been reccomended to death, but it's very good. It has a casual, comedic tone and very very good writing. My reccomendation for starting books:

Going Postal: A con-man criminal gets himself off death row, but in exchange, he's forced to work as 'Post Master General' of the neglected city Post Office.

Mort: A boy who's not really quite sure what to do with his life goes out to seek his life path in an apprenticeship and becomes the Apprentice of... Death. Death himself.

Spell Bound by F. T. Lukens: About a teen who wants to learn magic, but is unable to. He gets into an illegal apprenticeship with a Witch who doesn't like to live by the restrictive rules of the authorities.

Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones: The eldest sister of three gets cursed to look like an old woman, and ends up enlisting 'Evil' Wizard Howl into helping her.

Dealing With Dragons by Patricia Wrede: A princess wholly uninterested in being a princess sets out to get captured by dragon so that she doesn't have to marry an annoying prince.

Sorry if this is disorganized, it's like 5am for me and im typing and formating on my phone lol I don't mean to take away from the point of the post, I just thought that some people might get stuck on the point of "Well now that I wanna read a book instead of fanfiction, how do I start when books are written totally differently than I'm familiar with?"

fascinating that when you tell people "you have to learn the rules to break them" when talking about drawing/painting etc everyone nods and agrees but the second you say "you have to read books if you want to write better" there's a horde of contrarians begging to be the wrongest people ever all of a sudden

[toxycodone]

you should most definitely do a ‘dad’ curly body inspection fic,,, I mean whart who said that…

ship. captain curly x favorite crewmate reader

cw. power imbalance, fauxcest, you call curly “dad” but he’s not your dad.

“You’re not uncomfortable, are you?”

It’s a rhetorical question, really. You know Curly would brush off any protest from you. Anya’s busy with something. Apparently Daisuke slipped, fell, almost sent a nail straight through his foot—you didn’t pay much attention to the excuse. What followed after was what caught your favor.

“And to help her avoid getting behind schedule, I offered to conduct your body inspection in Nurse Anya’s place.”

You remember yours eyes widening in disbelief. It seemed like a joke at first. A weird one at that, but not something you’d put behind him.

“Guess you should call me Nurse Curly, huh?” He winks to punctuate the sentence.

And so it wasn’t a joke.

You’re here now. In his quarters, of all places. It’s definitely bigger than the broom closet Pony Express is legally obligated to provide you with as room and board, but not much so. Definitely less than captain-like.

“So,” He claps his hands together, smile bright as ever. “Shall we get started?”

Your captain’s eyes are bright, shining with enthusiasm. The predatory gleam that hides beneath them doesn’t go unmissed.

You simply nod. You’ve been here before, done this before. Anya’s inspections aren’t extremely invasive. Mainly just to ensure you’re in proper working order. Pony Express doesn’t take any chances when it comes to personal health as they want to avoid lawsuits, but also, any notation you’re unable to complete your tasks gives them excuse to dock credits.

They’re a necessary part of your routine health checkups. Nothing to be afraid of. Honestly, having Curly conducting it is good, right? Maybe even better than Anya, when you really think about it. He’s the most trustworthy one on the ship. The one who’s almost like family. It still feels awkward calling him dad the way he likes, but it’s starting to grow on you. You can trust him. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.

“This is just a routine checkup. Don’t think too hard about it.” He’s putting on those blue latex gloves. He must be serious about this. “I know it’s unorthodox for me to conduct this, but it’s a favor for Anya. Captain’s gotta fill in to keep this ship running properly, y’know?”

You hums in agreement. He takes a few steps forward. You never really realized just how large Curly is. His presence is imposing, a stark contrast from his personality. The sheer closeness of him is intimating. You wonder if he notices that too.

He then asks for you to take off your shirt. You oblige. Hesitation shoots through your fingertips, but it’s brushed away by a shake of the head. This is typical. Routine. With shaky fingers, you relinquish the garment.

Curly seems to drink in the sight of the newly exposed skin. Or is he just studying it? Doing his job? That’s it.

Your captain seems to notice the way you shuffle awkwardly under his gaze. He places a hand on your shoulder, giving you a comforting smile.

“It’s okay to be embarrassed. I know it’s awkward, but it’ll be over before you know it.”

You nod. Then he steps closer, curiously eyeing your chest. His hands reach out to touch you, only hesitating for a split second, before ghosting up your ribcage. You hold back and noises. Anya touches you too, this isn’t odd, per se. However, it’s usually with you lying on a medical bed. And with a medical gown on, at least.

She also doesn’t smile in satisfaction like that. Your eyes don’t linger on Curly’s face long.

He has the audacity to be demure at first, maiming some guise that this contact is supposed to be professional. His hands prod your sides, then your stomach area.

“Is there any pain when I touch you here?” Finally, there’s a line ripped from Anya’s script. “Or any pain elsewhere I should be aware of?”

You shake your head, then give a brief answer. Curly nods, then moves to take a couple notes on the clipboard set on at his desk.

There’s a sense of relief at the back of your mind, happy he’s taking this seriously.

He moves on. Now Curly’s hand move up your ribcage again, cupping your chest, thumbs stroking over your areolas and nipples—causing them to harden at the contact.

Your cheeks flush. Good God, your captain should not be touching you like this. Anya has never done this. And you shouldn’t be fucking enjoying it, either. You jump when he gives one a flick.

Curly seems to notice this. He lets out a soft chuckle.

“Seems your reflexes are in good shape.”

Well, there goes any notion that this is purely professional. He gives a last squeeze to your chest, then removes his hands. Curly takes a couple steps back, then starts to circle around you.

“Your pants.” He makes the request almost sheepishly. “Can’t keep those on, unfortunately…” You want believe his shyness, that he wants to preserve your modesty, but he just can’t. It’s out of his hands. But that would be too obvious a lie.

You shuffle those off too. His presence is behind you now, his eyes definitely glued to your ass and thighs. He is, however, scribbling something down on a clipboard. So he has to be doing some sort of work, right?

“Underwear, too.”

Wait. What?

You glance over your shoulder at him, brow raised in confusion. This isn’t part of routine, and you’re not dumb enough to fall for it. Curly’s still standing there, smiling as if he didn’t say anything remotely weird.

“Just being thorough.” He answers before you can ask. “Do it for your captain’s sake? Please?”

Curly’s choice in words is particular. He doesn’t often feel the need to flex his title as captain, but he’ll pull rank when need be. This is one of those times. An indirect reminder of who’s the one with power here.

And so, you oblige. Fingers link under the waistband of your underwear, sliding them down. You’re exposed fully in front of him now. After a few seconds of silence (which you’re sure is spent by Curly committing your body to memory), he places a hand on your shoulder, urging you towards his neatly made bed.

“On the bed, please.”

You’re sat down before you can protest. Curly pushes you onto your back, slowly guiding your thighs open.

There? Of all places, he’s looking there? Panic shoots through you, and it’s not just because there’s a grown man taking advantage of his role getting on eye level with your pussy. It’s the fact he’s going to notice just how wet you are.

His pupils dilate when he gets full view of you. Your thighs are spread wide open by Curly’s thick, gloved fingers. They’re warm despite the barrier and press into the supple flesh. The way he grabs you is as if he’s trying to restrain himself.

Curiosity beckons him on. Still ensuring your thighs are pressed open, Curly allows one hand to delve between your thighs and explore.

He cups your mound with unexpected gentleness, relishing the warmth. You have to hold yourself back from grinding against his hand. Wetness leaks out of your hole at the contact. It’s sick. Totally embarrassing how you’re dying to felt up by your captain, as dubiously consenting as it is. You close your eyes, an attempt at avoiding any eye contact Curly might sneak in.

One thumb carefully traces up your slit. A breathy gasp is elicited from your lips. Curly’s own breathing, the only sound in the room you can make out aside from the ship’s constant humming, is shaky. His thumb gathers wetness without even needing to press into you. Your clit twitches at the contact, causing your hole to flutter, clenching around nothing.

God, you hope he notices. Hope he slides a finger in. Fuck all the professionalism, the way he tries to mask his feelings for you by constantly infantilizing your and calling you his family. You want to feel those thick digits spreading you open. Then his cock, which you’re sure is far more girthy. Maybe if you took him down to the base, rode him like he deserved, he’d see you for the grown up you really are. Could he still call you kiddo after you made him moan your name and milked him dry? You doubt it.

“Alright, I think we’re done here.” Curly retreats from your form, as if you suddenly combust into flames. “You can go now.”

Huh?

You snap from your fantasies, looking up at Curly. His broad back is facing you now, hunched over as he picks up your clothing. You’re clouded by a mix of feelings—relief, confusion, anticipation for more—but you start to dress as he asked. Something sits wrong in your stomach about all this, but you’re unsure if it’s nausea or butterflies.

“I think we’re all done here. I’m gonna write up that report for Anya.” He ushers you out of his quarters with a sense of urgency. The delusional part of you admires how serious he takes his work, but that unmistakeable tent in his pants alludes to this inspection being cut for less professional reasons.

“See you at dinner, kiddo.”

And you’re back in the hallway, left alone with your thoughts.

[kiemiu]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐣𝐨𝐜𝐤!𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐝!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 . . .

jock!chris who can't help but stare. Sharing a class with you, let alone his favorite one, was something Chris looked forward to. It was motivation for him to get out of bed, even if he'd just end up staring at the side of your face for the entire period. Always taking notice of the new hairstyle you're trying out, or a new sweater you've never worn before, he even notices when you've gotten new frames for your glasses. He's entirely absorbed by your presence even when you don't pay him any mind. But when you do start to feel his piercing stare and you look his way, it always catches him off guard. Sometimes he'll wave, other times he'll look away as fast as possible, nearly giving himself whiplash. He'll sink down in his chair out of embarrassment whenever the teacher calls out his unfocused gaze. "Chris, am I teaching or is Miss Y/n? Because you haven't looked my way since you've sat down." If you ever pointed it out to him he only responds by saying "I can't help it! You're impossible to ignore."

jock!chris who awkwardly compliments you. Chris is confident and very self-assured, yet anytime he crosses paths with you he starts to feel like a little boy with his first elementary school crush again. Sometimes he'll stumble over his words, he can barely look you in the eye, and he's always fiddling with his hands. He can't stop himself from shoving his hands in his pockets or running his fingers through his hair, and if you're sitting down at a table he'll constantly drum his fingers against it until you ask him to stop. He doesn't understand how or why you have this effect on him, but it's so addicting and he can't help but crave you more and more each day.

jock!chris who'll defend you tooth and nail. When his jock friends and old party girl hookups that hang around his friend group start to notice him walking with you around campus, they start to tease him relentlessly. They'll say things like "Ooh, trying to get smarter by association by hanging out with that loser?", "Didn't know chunky sweaters and thick glasses were your type. You usually like your women half-naked.", and "Please, tell me you're not sleeping with that geek and you're just her month-long tour guide or something." Chris will genuinely become upset at the things they say about you and will argue tooth and nail, always defending you while simultaneously denying his feelings for you. His friends think it's funny how sensitive he can be over you, which only increases their teasing more much to Chris's dismay.

jock!chris who tries his hardest to impress you. He'll look up youtube tutorials of origami the night before your next class together and practice all throughout the night so he can do one in the middle of class and gift it to you. Instead of bringing one to class already premade, he thinks you'll be more impressed if he did it on the spot, which is why he memorized the steps despite it taking him all night to do so. Despite the lack of sleep he got and the growing bags under his eyes, the wide smile on your face made all of his hard work worth it. Now he does anything he can to see that smile on your face again. He randomly brings up fun facts about your favorite interests ( things you already know but feel too bad to say so because he genuinely looks happy that he learned something about you ), carrying around a book that he saw you recently read and pretend to read it in front of you, ( you know he's not reading it because he keeps looking at you every 5 seconds and the book is upside down ), opening bags of candy or twisting the cap off of your water bottle for you when it's too tight, and other minuscule things that he hopes you take notice of.

jock!chris who invites you to his games. He asks you if you've ever been to any school sports games and when you say 'No' he finds a way to slip an invitation to his upcoming games in every conversation. Your excuses pile up until you eventually end up running out of them and just give into his pleas. He'll be so happy when you finally accept his invitation and it shows in his performance. At practice he barely shows any signs of being tired, he's more hype than usual, and the smile on his face won't wipe off no matter what. On game day you're the very first person he looks for in the stands, refusing to focus on anything or anyone else until he sees you in the crowd. He starts to get a bit discouraged when he still doesn't spot you after the first few minutes of the game has already started, but after another play of chasing the ball, he'll turn his head back to the stands for the hundredth time that night and spot you walking down the steps of the bleachers to get a closer view, adorned in school colors like they were made for you. He waves at you as soon as he spots you, ignoring his coaches yells for him to focus. You'd wave back, slightly embarrassed at the amount of attention he attracted your way but still holding a smile on your face.

jock!chris who is now glued to you. Now that you've showed up to support him, he's stuck to your side. He starts walking you to your other classes, meeting up with you for lunch, ditching frat parties to accompany you to the library or a local cafe, and a lot more. He sends you memes on a daily basis, and sometimes a random pic of him at practice, encouraging you to send pics of yourself as well, even if you're just at the library studying or just woke up from a nap. He's practically glued to his phone when he's away from you, always waiting for the next notification from you, and smiling like a kid in a candy store when he receives it.

jock!chris who starts doing things for you without you having to ask. He's always done simple acts of service like open doors for you and other gentlemanly acts that his mom and dad taught him growing up, but as the two of you get closer, those actions become more prevalent. He'll wait for you when you have to tie your shoes, he'll carry your books for you, he'll stop by a cafe and get you something to drink, he fixes the collar of your jackets, and every now and then he'll adjust the frame of your glasses on the bridge of your nose. Things he doesn't even do for friends he's known for years he'll do for you, he just can't help but dote on you.

jock!chris who starts sitting next to you in class. Once you stop pushing him away and practically ignoring his presence, he takes it a step further by starting a routine of catching up to you on your way to class and sitting next to you. He'll poke you with his pencil when you're taking notes, he'll rip off pieces of paper from his notebook and write down random things like 'you look pretty' 'can i see your notes after class pls pls pls' and 'lunch later? my treat :)'. He also likes to subtly have one of his body parts touching yours, even if it's just his elbow grazing yours or your knee leaning against his, it all drives him crazy and he craves those interactions desperately.

jock!chris who secretly writes poems about you. Only time he's writing in his notebook during class is when he's admiring your features and wants to implement your perfections onto paper. It drives him crazy sometimes on how much you stick in his mind, he'll think about you at practice, in his other classes, at lunch, and even at parties that are thrown in his frat. Multiple delicate pieces of paper crumbled into the drawer of his nightstand, all about the same muse. In his solitude and the confines of his room, his imagination runs wild, and his words of affirmation are endless.

jock!chris who has never had to work for his feelings to be reciprocated but is prepared to for you.

jock!chris + nerd!reader masterlist | wc: 1.4k

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ' 🌱: @emely9274 @ginswife @chrisstvrns @conspiracy-ash @lovetaylorrussellgrr @nervoussagittarius @sacaydia @chrissturnsss @hearts4werka @chrisprincesss @koilaniazul @starsforu @sturn777 @sturniolosiphone @chrissweetheart @sturnsmia @leaningoutthewindow @certainfestivalnerdshepherd @dominicfikeenthusiast @st4rcs

[heartzfromel]

Anges is a detective and must work with his ex?Reader must make a suspect speak and play a little of his charm Agatha sees red (happy ending)

i love you, i’m sorry

detective!agnes x fem!ex wife!reader

tags; agnes and reader kinda hate each other, touchy agnes, possessive agnes, arguing, rio being nosy, making out, drinking, jealous agnes, idiots in love, happy ending, reader teasing agnes, detective reader

“oh, and agnes?” the chief of westview’s police department spoke, propped up against the detective’s office doorframe.

“uh-huh?” she replied, not fully paying attention as she flicked through her case file for what seemed to be the eight hundredth time today.

“since the murders have been happening in both westview and eastview they wanted to bring someone from eastview over to assist with your investigation.” he explained, almost carefully.

“yeah, fine, whatever.” agnes answered, expecting him to leave, but the chief made no effort to move.

“something wrong, chief?” she asked, confusion and irritation lacing her tone, she really wanted to get back to her work.

“not exactly, i’m just not too sure you’re going to be too happy with who’s been sent over.”

“and why would that be?” anges pressed, shifting in her seat.

“well, it’s just, she’s-“ the chief began, struggling to find the words.

“right here.” you smirked, clicking your tongue as you finished his sentence for him.

the chief left the room instantly, and you kicked the door closed behind you, making your way over to the woman in front of you.

the look on agnes’ face was priceless. her jaw seemed to drop just about as much as her stomach did as she stared at her ex wife for the first time in a year, and she fought with herself to show some form of composure. you wouldn’t be surprised if she got up and started looking for cameras, wondering if vidal was up to her antics again, trying to play some sick joke on her.

“agnes, been a while.” you spoke, maintaining eye contact as you sat yourself onto her desk. as you got comfortable it became painfully obvious that the skirt you had chosen was absolutely the wrong one to wear today. you could’ve sworn it was longer when it was in the wardrobe this morning. agnes’ breath hitched, as she shifted in her seat, leaning back slightly. you bit your lip as you watched her eyes trail down you, and then all of a sudden she seemed to realise what she was doing, and her eyes were on yours once again.

“y/l/n” she answered, dropping eye contact as she attempted pick up her file again, freezing as she accidentally grazed your thigh when she picked it up.

“what has gotten you all worked up, detective?” you teased, smirking as you took the file from her hands, before giving it a read yourself.

“all the fresh blood,” she started, looking back up at you once again, “all the pretty young things like you who think they can control the whole investigation because they did good on one case that, as it just so happens, was a fluke. that’s what’s got me all worked up, detective.” she spoke, as she leaned in closer to you.

“mm, agnes, don’t you worry about me trying to control anything, we both know that’s your area of expertise.” you answered, your noses almost touching.

agnes took a deep breath as she pulled away from you, taking the file into her hands once again. “we’re going out.” she exclaimed abruptly, grabbing her coat and waiting expectantly at the door for you as you hurried to keep up with her. you couldn’t help but smile, as it reminded you of this time last year, where “we’re going out” meant that the two of you would sneak out of work for food or just an hour of time together. you missed that. you missed her.

working with agnes so far had been hell, and you weren’t shy about letting her know. it was either constant bickering or total silence at all times, and she always had to know more than you, because obviously you were stupid and she wasn’t.

you had been working together for a week now. “agnes, can we stop at the gas station on the way back?” you asked, trying to be as civil as possible with her.

“and why would we be doing that?” she replied, fingers tapping on the wheel. you couldn’t help but admire them as she glared at you, expecting an answer. it took you a total of eight seconds to realise you were staring.

“i gotta get my dinner,” you began, “the motel has terrible cooking appliances so i just get what i can from the gas station instead.”

agnes suddenly felt a pang of sympathy go through her. “you’ve been eating gas station food all week in that dusty motel?”

“i mean yeah, its the police department, not the fbi, we don’t have the funds for luxury.” you giggled.

“come over tonight.” agnes blurted out, eyes never leaving you.

“i- what?” you stuttered, her words shocking you.

“i’ll make dinner, i mean.” she rambled, realising the implications of her words, “no one should be eating anything out of that gas station, its disgusting.” she joked.

“okay then.” you answered, smiling a real smile for the first time since you left eastview.

if there was one thing you never forgot about agnes, it was how rancid her cooking tasted when you first started coming over. but that was over five years ago, and you had helped her improve over time. now whatever she made was cooked to perfection and tasted incredible. you couldn’t help but smile as she unlocked her door, urging you inside. it reminded you of when you were hers, you missed it. if only she knew how you still longed for her, how she was the only thing you ever thought about, how whenever you were with other partners you’d imagine it was her, because no one ever made you feel the way she did.

“make yourself at home.” she spoke, you could tell she was nervous. you smiled sadly at her words, sitting on the couch you used to sit on every night, whilst she pattered about the kitchen organising ingredients and acting like you’d never lived there. like she hadn’t had you on the kitchen counter every night, like she didn’t kiss you for the first time at her front door, like you hadn’t slept in that bed with her every night and woke up with her every morning, like she hadn’t proposed to you on the very sofa you were sat on right now.

all the reminiscing seemed to have taken more time than you thought it would, because agnes was now putting two plates on the table, along with a case of beer. “dinner’s up.” she smiled as you sat down.

you watched her eyes widen as you popped open one of the beers and began to drink it. she knew you hated the stuff, but you knew damn well you were going to need it tonight. “thirsty?” she smirked as you practically guzzled the stuff. “mm” was all you could reply with.

you slowly brought the spaghetti that she had made up to your mouth before tasting it. you made a sound of pleasure as you had been hungry for the last two hours, and that did not go unnoticed by agnes, her eyes widened and she shifted around in her seat, before taking a swig of her own beer.

“good?” she asked you, fidgeting with her hands.

“incredible.” you answered, smiling at her.

“learned from the best.” she grinned.

after you had finished up, you both sat on the couch, the tv on for background noise, the pair of you swigging beers. there was now only one left in the case, and both of you were getting tipsy. you don’t remember when it happened, but you were both incredibly close to each other. deciding to test the waters, you rested your head on her shoulder. you felt agnes let out a sigh as she draped her arm around you. you leaned into her, looking up at her face as she looked down at yours. there was a long pause as you both began to realise what was happening.

“agnes.” you whispered.

“yeah?” she answered softly.

“what happened to us?” you asked, the tone of your voice clearly doing something for agnes, whose pupils were now fully dilated.

“i don’t know, honey, i don’t know.” she answered, stroking your hair.

you don’t know how it started happening, but the two of you both began to lean in. your lips brushed together slightly before you hesitated, but agnes didn’t have the ssme self control as you, as she grabbed your face with her hands and pressed her lips against yours, sighing in what seemed to be relief. she started out soft with you, but soon enough she was kissing you hard and rough. her hands slid down to your waist amd before you knew what was happening she had pulled you into her lap. she gripped your waist hard with one hand and dragged the other up your body soft and slow.

she bit your bottom lip harshly, and your mouth opened slightly, her tongue slipping in as she swallowed the moan that left yours. her lips began to trail sown your neck as she bit under your ear, causing a shiver to run up your spine. needing more, you rolled your hips against her.

“agnes, please.” you mumbled against her lips, causing her to let out a loud groan.

“baby, we can’t, you know we can’t.” she whispered, her hands now on your face.

“why not?” you whined.

“because, look at the state of us.” she pressed. she was right, neither of you were in your right minds right now.

“let’s go to bed, hm baby?” she suggested, hands steady on your waist.

“okay, lets go.” you mumbled, as she lifted you from her lap.

not sharing the bed wasn’t even a question, and you were glad. you were glad that she still felt comfortable around you.

“goodnight, y/n.” agnes whispered softly.

“goodnight, agnes.” you replied.

the next morning, you woke up with possibly the worst headache you’d ever had, made worse by your phone alarm blaring in your ear. much to your disappointment, the bed was empty. on the nightstand was a glass of water aspirin, which you took gratefully and got dressed for work. you were glad you always brought extra clothes with you everywhere, or some questions would definitely be raised at work. as you went to get a look at your hair in the mirror, you gasped at the sight of yourself, hurrying to grab your makeup bag in order to cover up the mess agnes had made of your neck. thankfully, you were particularly skilled at that sort of thing, and now no one would be any of the wiser.

when you got downstairs, agnes sat waiting at the kitchen counter.

“took you long enough. we’re gonna be late.” she spoke. you would’ve teased her or made a joke but her tone was telling you she was not happy today, so you just apologised and made your way to the car. she didn’t talk to you for the whole car journey, and didnt even acknowledge you when you got to work.

you were supposed to be interviewing a suspect today, some creep who was particularly into lady cops who fit ypur description, so you weren’t exactly jumping for joy at the thought, but whatever got the job done. you fixed your lipstick and undid a few buttons on your shirt before throwing your hair around, shooting one last glance at agatha, and her colleague, rio vidal, who gave you a reassuring smile, before walking in.

the whole interview, you got to the point with your questions, whilst also acting like a total klutz.

it was going fine, you were flirting with the suspect, landing little touches on his arm and giving him the eyes the whole time. vidal had to hand it to you, you were quite the actress. she smirked to herself as her eyes found agnes, who seemed to be seconds away from running in there and hitting the guy. you had decided to make the mistake on glancing at the glass, your eyes meeting agnes even though you couldn’t see her, and then leaning over the suspect, subtly showing a little chest to get him to talk. that was it, apparently. you heard a loud bang outside, which just so happened you be agnes slamming her hand on the table, before the door jolted open.

“that’s it!” she spat, grabbing onto the collar of your shirt and dragging you out. vidal smirked, raising her eyebrows as you yelled at your ex wife and she just grunted in protest, dragging you into her office, slamming the door behind you.

“agnes, what are you-“ you began, but were quickly interrupted.

“what the hell was that?” she spat, seething as her grip tightened.

“what was what, agnes?” you yelled back at her, confusion painting your features.

“that little stunt you pulled with the suspect.” she replied, looking at you as if you were stupid.

“i’m doing my job agnes.” you answered in shock.

“oh and showing yourself off like some prize is your job now, is it? i’ll tell you, if i checked the protocall for interrogations i doubt i’d find that in there, y/n.” she began, yelling at you by the end of the sentence.

“why do you care so much, agnes?” you yelled back.

“because you’re mine.” she answered, teeth gritted together as she walked you into the door, leaving no space between you as she leaned into you.

“agnes, stop.”

“why? you were begging for it last night.” she mumbled. you knew she was too far gone already, and you had to snap her out of it, but you couldn’t help the noise that escaped your throat at her words.

“agnes.” you spoke, timidly as if not to upset her.

“hm?” she answered, eyes meeting yours as she removed her head from resting on your shoulder.

“stop,” you spoke, voice firm, as you pulled her face into your hands, “we can’t keep doing this.” you whispered, as much as it pained you to do so.

“yes we can.” she answered, leaning into your touch as if she hadn’t had any for years.

“no we can’t.” you told her, as one hand went to her hair, in muscle memory. she put her hands on your waist as she slowly guided you over so she could sit down. you were now standing in between her legs as her hands ran up and down her sides.

“why are you just throwing this away, y/n?” she whined, pulling you onto her lap once again. you couldn’t find it in yourself to protest, she knew you wanted her just as much as she wanted you, she could see right through you.

“i didn’t throw anything away, agnes. you threw everything away when you left me.” you mumbled, shying away from her tough as her hands reached your neck and face. this had seemed to calm her down.

“and it was the worst thing i’ve ever done.” she confessed, avoiding eye contact.

“what?” you whispered, pulling her face so she’d look at you.

“i mean it, y/n. leaving you is my biggest regret. i hate myself for it, and i’m so, so sorry.” she rambled.

“agnes, don’t apologise, work was stressing you out, and we wanted different things, it happens.”

“it shouldn’t have happened to us. i’m so sorry i ignored you, and i’m sorry that the only thing we seemed to do together was fight, and i’m sorry-“

“agnes, stop. it’s in the past now.”

“what i’m trying to say is that i don’t want us to be in the past. i miss you, y/n, every day.” she was looking at you like you were everything she had ever wanted, and you believed her.

“agnes, i-“ you began, but you were quickly cut off.

“last night was the first time i felt truly happy since i left. you know that, right?” she whispered, both hands rubbing your neck.

“agnes…” her name came out strained, as she pressed down slightly.

“please, y/n. one chance.” she begged.

“i promise, baby, i’ll never leave you again, i p-“

you melted at the nickname, and your lips were on hers before she could finish her sentence, leaning back as she repositioned you on her lap, her hands gripping your waist, hard. the kiss was different from the ome from last night, fuelled with more passion and emotion.

“mm, agnes.” you gasped, her swallowing your moan, “i missed you.”

she laughed lightly into the kiss as one hand travelled further down, “i missed you too, baby.”

she was about to get you up onto the table when the door burst open, vidal storming in.

“you happy now, o’connor?” she yelled, not paying attention to anything that was happening.

“you have really got to get your priorities straight, she was doing her job for god’s sake, and- oh my god.” she whispered that last part as she suddenly took in her surroundings, “i am so sorry.” she giggled, leaving the room as quickly as possible. agnes let out a sigh as you giggled into her, arms wrapped around her neck as you placed a peck to her lips.

“lets finish this at home, shall we?” you smiled, as she shook her head, finally letting out a laugh.

[act2drama]

Also, I feel the need to point out that the final ghost's ultimate lesson isn't just "no one will mourn you after you die". It's not even "everyone already hates you so they won't miss you when you're gone". It's so so much worse than that. Not only does no one mourn Scrooge, they are actively glad that he's dead. Not only does no one mourn Scrooge, they are only interested in his death insofar as they wonder what's going to happen to his money. Not only does no one mourn Scrooge, they immediately seek to gather whatever profit they can from his death, including literally stripping his corpse in order to sell the clothes he was set to be buried in. Scrooge has already changed by the time the last ghost comes along, to the point where he can finally even begin to see the extent of the awfulness that his obsession with gaining wealth has brought: that even after his death, it's quite literally all anyone would ever associate with him and they would go to such objectively awful means to parse even a little of his wealth into their own pockets. The final ghost's visit isn't just about what happens to Scrooge after he dies, it's about the totality of what his life and death have wrought on others, turning them into thieves, corpse-robbers, and "magpies" who are just as cold-hearted and unempathetic as he has been; the only glint of light he has offered to him are the Cratchits who are as just as kind as ever...but who are now all but broken because of the death of Tiny Tim. And it's now (in this future) too late for Scrooge to help any of them by honest means which is clearly what he wants to do. Anyone who thinks the Scrooge of the beginning of the book would have wanted to help anyone worse off than himself clearly wasn't paying attention.

Scrooge isn't "scared straight" by the final ghost; the final ghost just hammers home the lessons he's been being taught ever since Marley showed up in his room: first through Marley's warning of what's currently awaiting him after death, then through the "pageant of ghosts" where he can see the anguish of the dead who are unable to provide any aid or comfort to the living, then the Ghost of Christmas Past reminding him that there was a time before money ruled his life and what it cost him to start down that path, then the Ghost of Christmas Present who shows him that, to put it bluntly, wealth doesn't equate to happiness (Fred and Clara live modestly but are happy, the Cratchits live in poverty but are happy) but also reminds him of the responsibility those who have wealth bear towards those who don't and, along with Ignorance and Want, warns of the potential cost of avoiding that responsibility. The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come shows him that future, the future of Scrooge continuing to ignore his social responsibilities to others and the pain and suffering it will bring, not just to himself but all those his life and outlook has touched. One piece of that puzzle on its own is not enough to make him change; he needs to see the whole picture.

"Scrooge only changed because he saw how nobody mourned him after his death" NO NO NO NO. You don't get it! The last spirit only worked because of the spirits that came before softening him up! If the spirits had shown him dead and ungrieved only it would not work. As the night goes on amid the visits Scrooge is already visibly changing. He's different after the first spirit and even more so after the second. And it's because of how much he's already changed that the final spirit is able to succeed