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yesornopolls · 3 months ago

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The article is under the cut because paywalls suck

This is an edited transcript of an audio essay on “The Ezra Klein Show.” You can listen to the conversation by following or subscribing to the show on the��NYT Audio App, Apple, Spotify, Amazon Music, YouTube, iHeartRadio or wherever you get your podcasts.

If you want to understand the first few weeks of the second Trump administration, you should listen to what Steve Bannon told PBS’s “Frontline” in 2019:

Steve Bannon: The opposition party is the media. And the media can only, because they’re dumb and they’re lazy, they can only focus on one thing at a time. … All we have to do is flood the zone. Every day we hit them with three things. They’ll bite on one, and we’ll get all of our stuff done. Bang, bang, bang. These guys will never — will never be able to recover. But we’ve got to start with muzzle velocity. So it’s got to start, and it’s got to hammer, and it’s got to — Michael Kirk: What was the word? Bannon: Muzzle velocity.

Muzzle velocity. Bannon’s insight here is real. Focus is the fundamental substance of democracy. It is particularly the substance of opposition. People largely learn of what the government is doing through the media — be it mainstream media or social media. If you overwhelm the media — if you give it too many places it needs to look, all at once, if you keep it moving from one thing to the next — no coherent opposition can emerge. It is hard to even think coherently.

Donald Trump’s first two weeks in the White House have followed Bannon’s strategy like a script. The flood is the point. The overwhelm is the point. The message wasn’t in any one executive order or announcement. It was in the cumulative effect of all of them. The sense that this is Trump’s country now. This is his government now. It follows his will. It does what he wants. If Trump tells the state to stop spending money, the money stops. If he says that birthright citizenship is over, it’s over.

Or so he wants you to think. In Trump’s first term, we were told: Don’t normalize him. In his second, the task is different: Don’t believe him.

Trump knows the power of marketing. If you make people believe something is true, you make it likelier that it becomes true. Trump clawed his way back to great wealth by playing a fearsome billionaire on TV; he remade himself as a winner by refusing to admit he had ever lost. The American presidency is a limited office. But Trump has never wanted to be president, at least not as defined in Article II of the U.S. Constitution. He has always wanted to be king. His plan this time is to first play king on TV. If we believe he is already king, we will be likelier to let him govern as a king.

Don’t believe him. Trump has real powers — but they are the powers of the presidency. The pardon power is vast and unrestricted, and so he could pardon the Jan. 6 rioters. Federal security protection is under the discretion of the executive branch, and so he could remove it from Anthony Fauci and Mike Pompeo and John Bolton and Mark Milley and even Brian Hook, a largely unknown former State Department official under threat from Iran who donated time to Trump’s transition team. It was an act of astonishing cruelty and callousness from a man who nearly died by an assassin’s bullet — as much as anything ever has been, this, to me, was an X-ray of the smallness of Trump’s soul — but it was an act that was within his power.

But the president cannot rewrite the Constitution. Within days, the birthright citizenship order was frozen by a judge — a Reagan appointee — who told Trump’s lawyers, “I have difficulty understanding how a member of the bar would state unequivocally that this is a constitutional order. It just boggles my mind.” A judge froze the spending freeze before it was even scheduled to go into effect, and shortly thereafter, the Trump administration rescinded the order, in part to avoid the court case.

What Bannon wanted — what the Trump administration wants — is to keep everything moving fast. Muzzle velocity, remember. If you’re always consumed by the next outrage, you can’t look closely at the last one. The impression of Trump’s power remains; the fact that he keeps stepping on rakes is missed. The projection of strength obscures the reality of weakness. Don’t believe him.

You could see this a few ways: Is Trump playing a part, making a bet or triggering a crisis? Those are the options. I am not certain he knows the answer. Trump has always been an improviser. But if you take it as calculated, here is the calculation: Perhaps this Supreme Court, stocked with his appointees, gives him powers no peacetime president has ever possessed. Perhaps all of this becomes legal now that he has asserted its legality. It is not impossible to imagine that bet paying off.

But Trump’s odds are bad. So what if the bet fails and his arrogations of power are soundly rejected by the courts? Then comes the question of constitutional crisis: Does he ignore the court’s ruling? To do that would be to attempt a coup. I wonder if they have the stomach for it. The withdrawal of the Office of Management and Budget’s order to freeze spending suggests they don’t. Bravado aside, Trump’s political capital is thin. Both in his first and second terms, he has entered office with approval ratings below that of any president in the modern era. Gallup has Trump’s approval rating at 47 percent — about 10 points beneath Joe Biden’s in January 2021.

There is a reason Trump is doing all of this through executive orders rather than submitting these same directives as legislation to pass through Congress. A more powerful executive could persuade Congress to eliminate the spending he opposes or reform the civil service to give himself the powers of hiring and firing that he seeks. To write these changes into legislation would make them more durable and allow him to argue their merits in a more strategic way. Even if Trump’s aim is to bring the civil service to heel — to rid it of his opponents and turn it to his own ends — he would be better off arguing that he is simply trying to bring the high-performance management culture of Silicon Valley to the federal government. You never want a power grab to look like a power grab.

But Republicans have a three-seat edge in the House and a 53-seat majority in the Senate. Trump has done nothing to reach out to Democrats. If Trump tried to pass this agenda as legislation, it would most likely fail in the House, and it would certainly die before the filibuster in the Senate. And that would make Trump look weak. Trump does not want to look weak. He remembers John McCain humiliating him in his first term by casting the deciding vote against Obamacare repeal.

That is the tension at the heart of Trump’s whole strategy: Trump is acting like a king because he is too weak to govern like a president. He is trying to substitute perception for reality. He is hoping that perception then becomes reality. That can only happen if we believe him.

The flurry of activity is meant to suggest the existence of a plan. The Trump team wants it known that they’re ready this time. They will control events rather than be controlled by them. The closer you look, the less true that seems. They are scrambling and flailing already. They are leaking against one another already. We’ve learned, already, that the O.M.B. directive was drafted, reportedly, without the input or oversight of key Trump officials — “it didn’t go through the proper approval process,” an administration official told The Washington Post. For this to be the process and product of a signature initiative in the second week of a president’s second term is embarrassing.

But it’s not just the O.M.B. directive. The Trump administration is waging an immediate war on the bureaucracy, trying to replace the “deep state” it believes hampered it in the first term. A big part of this project seems to have been outsourced to Elon Musk, who is bringing the tactics he used at Twitter to the federal government. He has longtime aides at the Office of Personnel Management, and the email sent to nearly all federal employees even reused the subject line of the email he sent to Twitter employees: “Fork in the Road.” Musk wants you to know it was him.

The email offers millions of civil servants a backdoor buyout: Agree to resign and in theory, at least, you can collect your paycheck and benefits until the end of September without doing any work. The Department of Government Efficiency account on X described it this way: “Take the vacation you always wanted, or just watch movies and chill, while receiving your full government pay and benefits.” The Washington Post reported that the email “blindsided” many in the Trump administration who would normally have consulted on a notice like that.

I suspect Musk thinks of the federal work force as a huge mass of woke ideologues. But most federal workers have very little to do with politics. About 16 percent of the federal work force is in health care. These are, for instance, nurses and doctors who work for the Veterans Affairs department. How many of them does Musk want to lose? What plans does the V.A. have for attracting and training their replacements? How quickly can he do it?

The Social Security Administration has more than 59,000 employees. Does Musk know which ones are essential to operations and unusually difficult to replace? One likely outcome of this scheme is that a lot of talented people who work in nonpolitical jobs and could make more elsewhere take the lengthy vacation and leave government services in tatters. Twitter worked poorly after Musk’s takeover, with more frequent outages and bugs, but its outages are not a national scandal. When V.A. health care degrades, it is. To have sprung this attack on the civil service so loudly and publicly and brazenly is to be assured of the blame if anything goes wrong.

What Trump wants you to see in all this activity is command. What is really in all this activity is chaos. They do not have some secret reservoir of focus and attention the rest of us do not. They have convinced themselves that speed and force is a strategy unto itself — that it is, in a sense, a replacement for a real strategy. Don’t believe them.

I had a conversation a couple months ago with someone who knows how the federal government works about as well as anyone alive. I asked him what would worry him most if he saw Trump doing it. What he told me is that he would worry most if Trump went slowly. If he began his term by doing things that made him more popular and made his opposition weaker and more confused. If he tried to build strength for the midterms while slowly expanding his powers and chipping away at the deep state where it was weakest.

But he didn’t. And so the opposition to Trump, which seemed so listless after the election, is beginning to rouse itself.

There is a subreddit for federal employees where one of the top posts reads: “This non ‘buyout’ really seems to have backfired. I’ll be honest, before that email went out, I was looking for any way to get out of this fresh hell. But now I am fired up to make these goons as frustrated as possible.” As I write this, it’s been upvoted more than 39,000 times and civil servant after civil servant is echoing the initial sentiment.

In Iowa this week, Democrats flipped a State Senate seat in a district that Trump won easily in 2024. The attempted spending freeze gave Democrats their voice back, as they zeroed in on the popular programs Trump had imperiled. Trump isn’t building support; he’s losing it. Trump isn’t fracturing his opposition; he’s uniting it.

This is the weakness of the strategy that Bannon proposed and Trump is following. It is a strategy that forces you into overreach. To keep the zone flooded, you have to keep acting, keep moving, keep creating new cycles of outrage or fear. You overwhelm yourself. And there’s only so much you can do through executive orders. Soon enough, you have to go beyond what you can actually do. And when you do that, you either trigger a constitutional crisis or you reveal your own weakness.

Trump may not see his own fork in the road coming. He may believe he has the power he is claiming. That would be a mistake on his part — a self-deception that could doom his presidency. But the real threat is if he persuades the rest of us to believe he has power he does not have.

The first two weeks of Trump’s presidency have not shown his strength. He is trying to overwhelm you. He is trying to keep you off-balance. He is trying to persuade you of something that isn’t true. Don’t believe him.

You can listen to this conversation by following “The Ezra Klein Show” on NYT Audio App, Apple, Spotify, Amazon Music, YouTube, iHeartRadio or wherever you get your podcasts. View a list of book recommendations from our guests here.

#not a poll #current events #everything is an illusion of power

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inkedells · 8 months ago

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pairing: old!logan x f!reader

Logan is sick and tired of you treating him like he's fragile. He'll ignore his relentless pain to show you what it's like to be taken apart, rough and slow, then fast and agonizing.

wc: 3.5k of pure smut

warnings: heavy smut, lap sitting, fingering, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), dirty talk, facials, p in v, ruined orgasms, snowballing, kind of angsty, the claws come out, logan is angry with you, kinda toxic, definitely mean, but still kind of sweet, pwp basically, blood, but it's not bloodplay, it's just logan not caring if he's hurt, if i missed any let me know.

Logan comes home and throws himself back on that torn-up leather sofa, thumb flicking his lighter while the other holds a cigar. It’s less of a distraction from the ache in his bones, and more of a device to push you away. Because if you think he’s tired or angry or hurting, you won’t ask him to fuck you.

It’s not like he doesn’t want you. Of course he does. It’s the sympathy in your eyes when he gets tired from just a couple of minutes of thrusting that he hates. The whispered, “It’s okay. baby, I can ride you.” The gentle touches across his body and his neck and his face and his beard. It all reeks of pity. And if you were to sit him down one day and ask him why he hates being taken care of, he wouldn’t have an answer. He would push the voice in his head down into the void that all the strength he had left fell in, the voice shrinking until it’s nothing as it screams, because I’ve never been taken care of, and I would’ve loved it back when being taken care of wasn’t my only choice.

But it’s fine. You wouldn’t ever ask him that question because he knows for a fact that you don’t know. If you did, you wouldn’t be climbing onto his lap quietly, hands rubbing his sides as you press kisses to his neck.

“I missed you, Logan,” You whisper. Your hips aren’t moving; He knows he sat here like this to avoid fucking you, but he almost wishes you were seeking exactly that. Sex, as embarrassing as it would be for him, is better than your sick love. He doesn’t think you love in the way lovers do. It’s the kind of love meant for sick puppies, or the lonely old woman sitting on the bus with all her belongings in plastic bags.

He turns his head to take a drag of his cigar. Silence.

You hold his face, forcing him to look at you as you kiss him. Slow, chaste, no tongue. He feels scrutinized by your touches, and something nervous seats itself deep in his belly.

“How was your day?” You ask, your gaze snapping between his eyes.

Logan closes them. “I’m tired,” He says flatly.

“I know. It’s okay.”

There it is again. Pity.

He scoffs. It’s quiet. Barely there. He didn’t mean to. He watches your face fall the smallest bit. A year ago, he wouldn’t have noticed, and if he would’ve, he would blurt out an apology. Now, he does notice, but he secretly wants to watch it fall even further if it means you’ll realize how much you’ve been hurting him.

You swallow, your thumb rubbing his cheekbone. “I found an American poetry anthology in the basement today. 20th Century. My favorite poem was in it.”

He mumbles, “In a Station of the Metro. T.S. Elliot.” Remembering the poem you told him about months ago sounds too much like sorry. He wishes he’d pretended to forget.

“Ezra Pound,” You correct. Your smile tells him he’s forgiven for an apology he never offered. “If you can recite it I’ll be impressed.”

“I’m not reciting a goddamn poem.” He sounds sarcastic, and it relieves you, but then you kiss him and he’s wound tight again.

You sigh as you pull back. “What’s bothering you, baby?”

“Nothing’s bothering—”

“What’s bothering you?” You interject.

He shakes his head, clenching his jaw. He makes the decision to sacrifice his dignity for the sake of stopping this conversation. You never could resist an orgasm, especially one caused by him. “Enough of that.”

“What?”

But he’s putting out his cigar and lifting you off his lap with a suppressed grunt, then pushing you down on the couch.

“Logan,” You protest.

He continues undoing the drawstring of your pajamas, with a kind of slippery urgency that tells you he's trying to shut you up more than he's trying to satiate his own desire.

You sit up straight, swatting his hand away. “Stop.”

He withdraws immediately, breathing hard through his nose as he looks down at the floor. He was wrong, before, about you not knowing. You definitely know, because you don’t place a loving hand on his thigh and you don’t kiss his shoulder. He’s grateful.

Instead, you observe his profile, then the quiet tremor in his hand. The impossible stillness of the rest of him. He tends to do that when his nerves are on fire. Thinks being a statue is what people who aren’t in chronic pain do.

“Don’t do that,” He mumbles, feeling your eyes on him. “I don’t need you feeling sorry, or whatever—whatever the fuck else goes through your head when you’re around me.”

You say nothing. That’s the most he’s said about his feelings in a while. He knows it, so he forces himself to say nothing, too. It doesn’t last long.

“I’m not dying.” His voice cracks a little at the end and he fights the urge to squeeze his eyes shut.

“I know.” The words come out in a tumble, as if you’re rushing to participate in his lie.

“Then stop looking at me like I’m dying.”

“Okay.” Tears prickle your eyes but you blink them away.

“Okay,” He repeats.

You take a deep breath. “But it’s okay to be cared for, Logan.”

He laughs incredulously, and suddenly his volume is rising and his voice is firm. “Would you just—Would you just quit being my fuckin’ mommy? Would you?”

He only lets your silence marinate for a second before he rushes in to kiss you, ignoring the cramps in his muscles as he tugs your neck forward roughly. You squeak against his mouth, fighting his impossible grip on you, but you give up with a shaky exhale through your nose when your efforts prove useless.

“I can take care of you, too,” He grits out. It would sound sweet if it weren’t for the frustration in his tone. He pushes you onto the couch the same way he did moments before as he opens your legs by your knees and settles between them. He sucks a dark mark onto your neck, his fingers digging bruises in your ribs.

“I know you can,” You reassure him. You can see where this is going. “And I love when you do.” You gasp when he pulls your shirt up over the curve of your breasts.

“No. You don’t.” He pinches one of your nipples and sucks the other into his mouth for a brief second. “It’s okay. I’ll show you so you don’t forget again. You won’t want to get ruined any other way.”

“Logan,” You sigh.

He hums against the soft skin just underneath your breast as his hands ravage your body. He begins to unsheathe the adamantium claws in one of his hands so he can rip your top open. It’s slow and excruciating, so he closes his eyes, but the pain is over too soon and his suspicions are confirmed when he opens his eyes to see them stuck halfway.

You don’t expect him to lean back and individually tug each blade free. There’s blood, and now it’s dripping onto your belly, and he mumbles something that sounds like an apology as he wipes the dots of red away with his thumb.

But the hazel in his eyes is alive again. You hope it’s you that did that. Hope it’s not the pain or the sight of his own blood. You want to ask him, just to make sure. You don’t like hurting, right? You just really like me—

He slices through your shirt, careful not to graze your skin, and you try to ignore the fact that he’s never that cautious with himself, but you can’t.

“Logan, you’re bleeding.” Your voice is unstable.

“It’ll heal,” He says quickly, passively. He wipes his burning palm on his wifebeater.

“But that takes a long time now.”

He meets your eyes, his movements frozen. He’s angry and you’re not stupid. You’re pitying him again. He needs you to stop fucking pitying him. When he speaks, his voice is deep and rough and slow, and you would be scared if he wasn’t your Logan. “Are you done?”

You don’t know what to say, so you just close your eyes and nod. You hear his claws retract faster than when they came out, and almost simultaneously, he’s shoving that same hand under your waistband as two of his calloused fingers push themselves into your cunt.

You arch toward him involuntarily, a ragged moan falling from your lips as he tugs your pajamas off your legs and spits on your pussy to ease the slide of his fingers.

Each groan he pulls from your throat is a step toward dispelling the doubt from your body. Doubt of his capabilities, of his strength, of his devotion to you.

“Beg me to fuck you,” He demands, fingering you roughly.

Your mind is cloudy at this point, from sadness or arousal or both, but you give him what he wants. “Fuck me,” You whisper, your eyelids about to flutter shut as you shed a tear.

But then you catch Logan smiling.

He grabs your jaw with his free hand, and you look at him immediately. “You’re gonna let me use it, right? Get myself off?” You lazily trace his features with your gaze—His nose, his wrinkles, his beard—because you know if it were your fingers instead he’d mistake it for tenderness and get mad again.

You nod, but it’s weak with how hazy everything is.

“Good girl.”

“Please,” You sigh, “I need you inside of me. I need to—I need it.”

“I know. I know what you’re feeling before you feel it.” He lets the pad of his thumb draw quick circles on your clit. “What? Thought I couldn’t hear you playing with yourself in the shower? If I can hear your heartbeat when I walk through the door, what makes you think I wouldn’t have heard you whining my name?”

“Logan,” You sigh, your hips lifting off the couch, coaxing his fingers deeper for as long as possible before he’s shoving you back down with the heel of his palm.

“I’m gonna play with you now. I’ll fuck you after, don’t worry your pretty head about it.”

“What do you mean, play with me?” You breathe, fighting to keep your eyes open as he finds your g-spot.

He grins dirtily, in a way that makes your head spin and your thighs clench around his hand. You’re barely processing his words as he bends down to mumble in your ear, “Right when you’re about to make a mess on my fingers, I’m gonna stop. Then I’m gonna go down on you. And I’m gonna lick your pretty pussy, maybe even fuck you with my tongue if you’re good. And guess what? Guess what I’m gonna do when you’re this close?”

“You’re gonna stop,” You whine.

“I’m gonna stop,” He nods, and it’s mocking, but it’s gentle, and he’s fucking killing you with the way he’s talking right now. “But I’m not mean. I’ll give you a break. You can calm down when my dick is in your mouth, okay?”

“Okay,” You breathe, your hips unabashedly grinding on his fingers. But you want to reassure him he is mean, and you especially want to tell him how much you love it. “Logan, I’m gonna—”

He withdraws his fingers from you so fast it almost burns. You clench around nothing, your lower half spasming as your orgasm barely approaches before falling away again. Only a hint of pleasure is able to make it through the cracks, and you cling onto it, hoping if you focus hard enough, the wave will come back. It doesn’t. You should regret warning Logan that you were about to finish, but all you feel is comfort now that he’s finally proud of you again.

Another tear streams down the side of your face, landing in your hair. Logan’s watching you as he pets your thigh, his lips parted when he leans down over you. He kisses your wet cheek softly, his beard rough on your skin. It’s unlike him to offer you affection this gracefully during sex. It’s always shaky limbs and suppressed groans and dirty kisses. Both of you know it.

He moves down your body, until his face is hovering over your cunt. He doesn’t have his reading glasses on, so he has to pull his head back and squint as he spreads your folds with his thumbs, studying what you look like. He licks a stripe over you. A second, longer one, before he zeroes in on your clit. You can do nothing except lay there and take it as your hips twitch from overstimulation under his firm hands.

“Oh my god,” You whisper, your fingers twisting in his hair. “F-Fuck.”

He moans at that, pressed right up against you, the sound deep and delicious and vibrating. “Feel good?” He asks teasingly with a nip to your inner thigh.

“What do—What the fuck do you think?”

He breathes a laugh. It’s short and airy, not frustrated like before, and a warmth ignites itself in the back of your mind. It’s overpowering even the feeling of his mouth licking and sucking your most sensitive area; It’s the relief that he’s still hiding the Logan you fell in love with somewhere in there.

You wind your fingers in his hair and scratch his scalp. You try to do it lovingly, although it comes across as sexual and Logan’s breath hitches in pleasure against your pussy instead. So as you suppress a gasp from the pure skill of his tongue, you show your affection differently—you hold the wounded hand he has resting face-up beside your hip. The cuts embedded there are easy to avoid as your thumb rubs the lines of his palm, because even though you can’t see his hand, the puffiness surrounding each slash on his skin are your cues.

He doesn’t move his hand away, but his tongue falters for a fraction of a second before slowing down.

The kind of love you’re pressing into Logan’s skin with each gentle stroke is unrecognizable to him. It’s not the pitiful love he’s so used to. He thinks it might be the opposite. Admiration. Reverence.

“I’m so empty,” You whisper, bringing your hands to grope Logan’s biceps. They’re sweaty and hard and flexing under your touch, and you wonder if he would let you ride them one day.

When your climax starts to creep up on you, it’s thanks to the image of Logan forcing you to lick your arousal clean off his bicep. Indulgently swirling your tongue along his pronounced veins, savoring the taste of his sweat mixed with yourself. He’d probably say somthing like, fuckin’ filthy. Getting yourself off on my arm. Who does that? Are you that obsessed with me?

Logan feels you squeezing his tongue, harder than all the other times before, so he withdraws at the last moment, ruining your orgasm once again.

You convulse silently, your breath coming out stuttered with your twitching jaw. As if he can read your mind, he unbuckles his belt and removes his pants and boxers. But he doesn’t strip himself of his wifebeater, stained with blood.

It’s the hottest thing in the world.

You blink, and suddenly Logan is hovering above you with his cock over your face. He rubs his leaking tip on your cheeks first, then your lips, and when you open your mouth to take him, he moves his cock away and nudges your jaw shut with his free hand, shaking his head.

“Not yet.”

A whine lodges itself in your throat as Logan spreads his pre-come over the plush of your lips. It escapes only when he lets go of his cock in favor of massaging his wetness across your lips and on your tongue with his thumb. His hard cock is bobbing above you, almost tantalizingly, the occasional drip of arousal landing itself somewhere near your eyes, then your hair, then your mouth, and you watch Logan’s brow furrow as you try to lick whatever you can.

His resolve snaps. A calloused hand squeezes at your cheeks until your jaw falls open. His cock is in your mouth before you can process it, thick and heavy and wet. So. Incredibly. Wet. You start to wonder how it’s even possible that he’s this hard at his age, but you know he wouldn’t want you to be wondering that, so you happily push the thought away.

You suck your cheeks in, swirling your tongue around his tip as you bob your head to meet the subtle, almost imperceivable thrust of his hips. You’re taking it well, you know you are. So you keep taking it, until Logan can no longer successfully suppress his moans and his hips are jerking out of rhythm.

He moves back until his cock slips out of your mouth. “I don’t wanna come like this. Wanna fuck you.”

“Yeah, yes. Fuck me. Please.”

He stands up and turns you on your front, your knees pressing into the soft couch cushions with your ass in the air.

“Logan,” You plead as you feel his tip pressing at your entrance.

“I’ve got you,” He says quietly, pushing in until half of his cock is comfortably squeezed by your cunt. Both your breathing is loud and labored, and there’s a specific kind of intimacy in knowing you’re both feeling this identical need. Overwhelming and hot and unquenchable by anything other than each other.

His first thrust is shallow, but it ruins you all the same. With how thick he is, it should feel like an intrusion, and it does. But all you can think about is how perfectly he fits inside of you, filling you extraordinarily with only a few inches.

“Fuck,” Logan breathes. “Look at that.” He traces around your entrance with his thumb. “Stretching so wide to take me.”

You moan, pressing your cheek against the sofa as you rock with his thrusts. He still hasn’t pressed all the way in yet, and you’re growing impatient. “Come on,” You urge, pushing yourself back to force more of his cock into you.

You expect him to chastise you for being so greedy, but he listens to you instead with a slow, full thrust. His tip nudges your cervix with how deep he is, and a ragged moan escapes you. “Yes,” You whine, “Oh god, yes.”

Logan’s breaths are coming out heavy through his nose, quick and occasionally intertwined with a grunt. His thrusts are getting quicker, and it’s starting to burn, but you welcome every sensation he has to offer you. He pulls out, spits on his cock, then shoves himself back inside, and this time you’re both unabashedly moaning the minute you’re joined again.

His fingers dig in the plush of your ass as he observes himself disappearing into you. It hurts, but you love it. He knows you do, so he spanks you quickly before gripping you and rutting against you again.

“I love when you fuck me,” You whisper, feeling ashamed as soon as the confession leave you. “When you properly fuck me.”

He slows for a moment so he can watch his cock glisten with how wet you are. “I know.” He picks back up his punishing pace.

Your eyes begin to water, from pain or pleasure, you can’t tell. “I love you.”

“I know,” He repeats, this time breathier. His hips stutter. You can tell he’s close.

“I want it on my face,” You tell him quickly, his impending orgasm giving you no time to worry about being too forward.

He pulls out again, letting you turn onto your back as he shifts up your body. He jerks himself furiously, but you swat his hand away and take it upon yourself to stroke him.

“Come for me,” You tell him honestly, softly. His eyes squeeze shut and his lips part around a trembling exhale.

He groans as his release coats your face in long stripes. Some of it even lands in your hair, but you don’t care. Your own fingers work your clit as you stick your tongue out and taste him. Logan bends down to kiss you, chest heaving and hands shaky, and you rub yourself faster as you swap his release between the two of you with a hum. He pulls back to let you swallow, then he kisses your cheeks with his rough beard, uncaring about the mess on your face.

You don’t know you’re coming until it’s over and you’re breathless, and it’s almost excruciating with how much he’s ruined you, but you’re so exhausted you can’t find it in yourself to dwell on it a second longer.

You wrap your arms around his neck and tug him down for another kiss because you can hardly remember the one he just gave you.

“I’m sorry I had been treating you all wrong,” You say carefully.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” His voice is rough.

You nod, your lips brushing his as you smooth sweaty strands of hair away from his forehead. These touches are hard for him. Any variation of your chaste affection is a reminder that he’s not really Logan anymore.

But the shame in it is gone. Replaced by the reassurance that he can still surround you with safety and firm hands and blatant desire;

And for a moment, he’s his old self again.

A/N: it's been so long since i've written anything, but logan has been consuming my brain for weeks so i had to get this out. i hope it's true to his character. <3 also, my asks are open, so feel free to request anything you want to read about.

#hugh jackman #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #hugh jackman x reader #wolverine smut #deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett #x men #old!logan x reader #old man logan #old man logan x reader

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husband-steve-cortez · 1 year ago

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Now I'm just going to gush about how much I love Steve's romance scene lol

I love how he makes his interest clear but also it's vague and he's sending signals and making it definitely clear he's open to something (eye candy in the crowd) but it's up to you to pick up what he's hinting at and go for it.

#idk there's just something about it.#something that could almost be sad but just feels. Gay. About not quite going for it but sending signals #Steve having a feeling but not being 100% sure this is what he thinks it is so he dances around it #(in reality this feels in part to give straight gamers a million exit points but perhaps the other romances are like this too in me3)#(to counteract the 'say the wrong fucking thing and now you've romanced them' problem of the previous games)#anyway Miles could would never say 'I want to be more than friends'#and I get that it can feel a little aggressive to say that. And it's not even precisely what I think Ezra would say. But it's close enough #I think Ezra would tease him. “A good friend huh? That why you asked me out here? Just to be friends?”#Ezra is a smidge more shameless #'I want to be more than friends' and interrupting him with a kiss shameless #'I thought there was something between us but-' and then you show him

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possessedmen · 4 months ago

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The Spell of Desire

In the dim light of the evening, Ezra, a reserved art history major, returned to his university dorm room, his mind preoccupied with his unrequited feelings for his roommate, Brandon. Brandon was the epitome of a college jock—muscular, charismatic, and, to Ezra's knowledge, straight. Their shared living space was a constant reminder of what Ezra couldn't have.

As Ezra entered, he froze at the sight before him. There, sprawled on his bed, was Brandon, or so he thought, in all his naked glory. The room was silent except for the soft hum of the air conditioner, and Brandon's usual confident demeanor seemed replaced by a strange vulnerability.

"Brandon, what the hell?" Ezra managed, his voice a mix of shock and intrigue.

The man on the bed shifted, sitting up with a look of flustered confusion. "Hey, Ezra, uh, I was just... I thought I'd surprise you. You know, with a, um, prank. Yeah, a prank," he said, his voice not quite matching Brandon's usual deep timbre. It was higher, more nervous.

Ezra raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "A prank? Since when do you prank me by getting naked on my bed?"

"Well, you know, I've been feeling a bit adventurous lately. Wanted to spice things up around here. Plus, it's hot, and I thought, why not cool off a bit?" The faux-Brandon chuckled awkwardly, trying to mimic the easy laugh of the jock.

Ezra couldn't help but let his gaze linger over the body that was supposed to be Brandon's. There was something off, something not quite right in the way he moved, the way he spoke. "You're acting weird, Brandon. What's really going on?"

"Okay, okay, you got me. I'm not Brandon. I'm Theo. Theo from your literature class. I... I used this old spell book I found in the library. I swapped bodies with Brandon because I've been crushing on you for ages. I wanted to be close to you, to... to see if you felt the same."

Ezra's eyes widened, the pieces falling into place. "You swapped bodies with Brandon? With black magic?"

"Yes, I know it sounds crazy. I'm sorry, I'll reverse it, I just—"

"No, wait," Ezra said, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "If you're going to be Brandon, let's make this believable. What would Brandon say now?"

Theo, still in shock, tried to think on his feet. "Uh, he'd probably say something like, 'Hey, roomie, you caught me. Now, what are you gonna do about it?'"

Ezra chuckled, "That's more like it." He began to unbutton his shirt, revealing his toned physique slowly, deliberately. "And what would Brandon do next?"

Theo swallowed hard, his borrowed body looking out of place with the expression of a shy nerd. "He'd probably... um, flex a bit, show off, right?" He awkwardly flexed one of Brandon's muscular arms.

"Close, but let's make it more... intimate," Ezra suggested, letting his shirt fall to the floor. He climbed onto the bed, his body close to Theo's, the heat between them palpable. "So, 'Brandon', what do you think of this?"

Theo's eyes followed Ezra's movements, his breathing quickening. "I... I think you look good, Ezra. Really good."

"Shh, just keep being Brandon," Ezra instructed, a playful smirk on his lips as he leaned in, capturing Theo's lips in a kiss that was both exploratory and demanding. After a moment, he pulled back slightly, "What would Brandon say if I kissed him like that?"

Theo, encouraged by Ezra's seduction, began to settle into Brandon's identity. "He'd probably say, 'Damn, Ezra, you're full of surprises. But I like 'em.'" His voice was gaining confidence, mimicking Brandon's casual arrogance.

Ezra laughed softly, his breath warm against Theo's skin. "And what would he do?"

Theo, now more playful, pulled Ezra closer, his hands finding his waist with a newfound boldness. "He'd pull you in like this, and say, 'You wanna play, roomie? Let's play.'"

Ezra let out a low moan, "Good. Now, what would Brandon want next?"

Theo, channeling Brandon's confident, friendly arrogance, whispered, "He'd want you to join him, to make this moment even more real." His voice was steady now, playful and teasing.

Ezra's eyes sparkled with desire. "Is that so? Well, let's not disappoint 'Brandon' then." With a fluid motion, Ezra undid his belt, letting his pants slide off, joining Theo on the bed fully. "What's next, 'Brandon'?"

Theo, feeling the heat of Ezra's body against his own, grinned, "He'd probably say, 'You're making this too easy, Ezra. But I like it.' And then maybe he'd..." Theo hesitated for a moment before continuing with a smirk, "He'd start kissing your neck, right?"

Ezra tilted his head back slightly, giving Theo access, his voice low and seductive, "Go on then, show me how 'Brandon' does it."

With a newfound confidence, Theo leaned in, his lips brushing against Ezra's neck, planting kisses that were firm and teasing, just as Brandon might do. He felt the thrill of embodying the jock's persona, the playful arrogance coming naturally now. "You like that, huh, Ezra?" Theo asked, his voice now a perfect mimic of Brandon's casual, cocky tone.

Ezra chuckled, his voice a soft moan, "Yeah, I do. What’s next Brandon?"

Theo's hands roamed over Ezra's back, pulling him closer with a confident grip. "I'd probably want to feel more of you, to make sure you're as into this as I am." His fingers traced the line of Ezra's spine with a deliberate slowness, savoring the reaction he elicited.

Ezra, feeling the shift in Theo's demeanor, whispered, "And what would you say if we went further?"

Theo, fully immersed in Brandon's identity, smirked, "Finally, took you long enough, man. Let's see what you've got." His tone was playful, almost challenging, as he watched Ezra's hands move to the blanket covering him.

Ezra smiled, his hands moving to pull the blanket away, revealing Theo fully. "Then let's not keep 'Brandon' waiting." As the blanket fell, Ezra took a moment to appreciate the view, his eyes dark with desire. "You look good, 'Brandon'. Really good."

"You know, Ezra, you've always been too fucking quiet for your own good," Theo said, his voice a low, teasing growl that was unmistakably Brandon's. "Let's see if we can make you scream tonight."

Ezra, his heart racing with anticipation, looked up at Theo with a mix of excitement and surrender. "Show me then, 'Brandon'."

Theo smirked, the cocky grin that was so characteristic of Brandon spreading across his face. He leaned down, his lips capturing Ezra's in a kiss that was commanding, leaving no room for doubt about who was in charge. His hands roamed over Ezra's body with purpose, guiding him to lie back on the bed.

With a fluid motion, Theo positioned himself above Ezra, his movements confident and assured. "You ready for this, roomie? 'Cause I'm gonna fuck you like you've never been fucked before," he said, his voice dripping with playful arrogance and a vulgar edge.

Ezra nodded, his breath hitching as he felt Theo's presence so close, so dominant. "Yeah, I'm ready."

Theo, now fully embracing the role of Brandon, didn't hesitate. He took Ezra's hands, pinning them gently above his head, his gaze intense. "Good, because I'm not holding back, you little slut," he whispered, his tone a mix of promise and challenge.

The room was filled with the soft sounds of their breathing, the rustle of sheets, and the low, appreciative moans from Ezra as Theo explored his body with a deliberate slowness, savoring each reaction. Theo's touch was firm, his movements those of someone who knew exactly what he wanted, and right now, what he wanted was Ezra.

As Theo prepared to take the lead, he maintained eye contact, ensuring Ezra was with him every step of the way. "You're gonna love this, Ezra," Theo said, his voice confident, as he positioned himself.

Ezra, caught in the throes of desire, could only nod, his body responding eagerly to Theo's dominance. The moment was charged with an electric intensity as Theo, embodying Brandon's assertiveness and vulgar charm, began to move with a rhythm that was both commanding and raw.

Their connection deepened with each thrust, each movement a testament to Theo's complete immersion into Brandon's identity. Ezra's moans grew louder, his hands gripping the sheets as Theo took him to heights of pleasure he hadn't known before.

"You like that, huh, you dirty boy?" Theo teased, his voice a husky whisper in Ezra's ear, maintaining the playful arrogance that had become his second nature. "Tell me how much you fucking love it."

"I... I love it," Ezra managed between gasps, his body arching into Theo's with every motion. "You act like him so well, Theo. You've made him so fucking edgy, and I love it."

As they reached the peak of their passion, Theo's confidence never wavered, his control over the situation absolute. The culmination of their encounter was explosive, leaving them both breathless and satisfied, as Theo came inside Ezra with a groan that was all Brandon's vulgar satisfaction.

In the quiet that followed, Ezra turned to Theo, his eyes soft with affection. "You know, if you could really stay as Brandon, I wouldn't mind at all. You could stay like this forever."

Theo chuckled, still in character, playing up the confusion with an ironic twist. "Stay as Brandon? What are you talking about, man? I am Brandon, you idiot. Always have been," he replied with a smirk, his tone playful yet convincing in its irony.

Then, as he lay there, still inside Ezra, Theo added with a mix of sincerity and vulgarity, "But you know what, Ezra? Your hole makes me crazy like no girl ever did. Fucking you, it's... it's something else, man."

Ezra laughed, the warmth of the moment enveloping them. "Right, 'Brandon', right. But seriously, you're incredible like this."

Theo, or 'Brandon', pulled Ezra closer, their bodies still intertwined. "Well, then, let's keep this going, roomie. Because I'm not going anywhere." And with that, they drifted into a contented sleep, the boundaries of their reality blurred by the magic of the night, the playful deception of identity, and the unique intimacy they had discovered.

#male takeover #male bodyswap #identity theft

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semirofly · 2 years ago

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Forgive me is a little long😅:

I'm sure after coming back home Ezra won't stay there that much knowing that:

-Thawn is back so even the Empire, with this Lothan may be attacked sooner or later and the Galaxy in general is in danger.

-Sabine,Ahsoka and Hyuang stayed behind, he would have preferred being blocked on Peridea with Thawn than this to happen,he wanted to come back ,but with Sabine. So he will come back to help her and co.

What if Ezra show up in Mandalorian S4 and meet Mando e Bo katan(she already knows him) and learn more things about Mandalorians and maybe forging him some beskar parts(he will be literally surrounded by them spamming "This is the way" at this point)?

Maybe he will go with chopper and jacen too because he will become his Padawan?? (Hera and Zeb may join them later.)

I had this through after rewatching Hyuan saying to Ezra about Sabine's family fate but now he may want to check it himself.

Mandalor is very important for the Empire so maybe Thawn may try to occupate it again with the help of the Great Mother's and others Empire cells?

So Ezra help Mando and Katan that understand the big problem that Thawn is for Mandalor and their people and decide to go with him.

It may connect everything for the film or whatever they are planning, with at the end Ezra and co leaving and finding Sabine and Ahsoka or meet them at half-way.

I need to elaborate this thoughts more.

I just can't wait for Ezra and Sabine to meet again and this time without separation, lets be patient like they have done till now.

Ezra a Jedi with Mandalorian knowledge and Sabine a Mandalorian with Jedi knowledge is the Strongest couple that I know in Star Wars😅.

I'm having many theories and thoughts after the end of Ahsoka that I may rewatching Mandalorian S3 and share them when I have time.

Sorry for not being much a talker but I really want you all to know that I appreciate the Sabezra community and all the positive people I have see here.

I'm really happy to have join it a month ago(I have been shipping them for 9 years but you know Im not much a talker🤣✌️).

I will be more active now and wait with you all the Sabezra reunion even if it may takes a while🔥.

Sincerely I waited 9 years for them to became canon and for all the hits the Ahsoka show gave us waiting a little more won't be a deal.

Sabine as a Jedi is clearly an attempt from her to be part of her future boyfriend's world. Naturally, Ezra should try to learn how to be a Mandalorian now.

If she has his lightsaber, then maybe he should have an armor with a Clan Wren pauldron.

#Sabezra #Theory time #Ezra surrounded by “This is the way” would be hilarious #Like: what is this people problem ahahah #ahsoka show and mandalorian possible connection #bo katan and din #Im here even if it takes a while #sorry for the long post I made it the shortest possible #strongest couple #full of thoughts 🤔#They will meet again

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kaliforniahigh · 4 days ago

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we'll try again, when we're not so different - n.s.

Exhusband!Noah and Exwife!Reader.

Warnings: angst, the end of a marriage, hurtful words, heartbreak, Noah's new "girlfriend", self-deprecating thoughts from both Noah and Reader, curse words, miscommunication, happy ending. Sorry if I forgot something.

I definitely don't want to end their story here. I feel like there's so much potential from this universe, so, feel free to send me asks to talk about their little life. Can be either pre or post divorce :)

WC: 9.6k

You still remember everything as if it happened yesterday.

You remember marrying him. You remember your improptu honeymoon that wasn't really anything fancy, but still held meaning to the two of you. You remember finding you you were pregnant, and even though you felt very scared of becoming a parent, you also felt very excited for the future.

But what you remember the most of all these things, is when everything started to fall apart. If you tried, you feel like you could recite word for word of what was said that day.

You were both in the kitchen. The kitchen island between you and Noah physically showing the rift that has grown between the two of you in the past years, as each one of you stood on one side.

The folder set on the counter was like a giant elephant in the room. It felt like it was staring, and mocking you. You felt like it was looking you in the face and saying "see? You failed. You failed at keeping this marriage together. And I'm the proof of it".

Neither you nor Noah have said anything since you handed him the papers and he looked through them. The silence felt like it was swallowing you two alive. You wanted him to say something, even if it was to get angry at you.

He sighed out loud, and ran a hand through his hair. And in that moment, you couldn't help but think about how your going to miss doing it yourself.

Because divorcing him didn't only mean letting go of your marriage. It meant letting go of him. It meant he was no longer gonna be yours.

You would go to bed alone. You would only cook meals for two people instead of three. And you would have no one to tell about your day. No one to let know when you arrived somewhere, or when you were headed back home.

But then you remember you've been feeling this way for a long time already. What different would it make? He was never home anyway, you felt like you were in a one person marriage.

"Y/N", he said your name, startling you out of your thoughts. "What the fuck is this?", he asked, pointing to the folder in front of you.

He didn't sound angry, he didn't raise his voice. You think he actually sounded betrayed.

"I think you know what it is", you whispered, but the silence was so loud, he could hear you clearly.

"Where is this coming from?", he questions you, and for a second you think he must not be serious right now.

Did he not remember all of the fights you've had? Did he not remember the countless nights you've called him, crying and frustrated because you couldn't put your son to sleep? Did he not remember when you got a call from his school, saying that Ezra fell from the monkey bars and needed to be taken to the hospital? And you couldn't even call him, because he was on stage somewhere halfway across the world.

"I think this is a long time coming, Noah", you point out and you can tell he's getting frustrated with your short answers.

"Long time coming? For how long have you been thinking of divorcing me? How come we never sat down and talked about it?", he was getting agitated now. Pacing back and forth.

The truth is, you knew that if you had sat down and talked to him, he would make you the same promises he's made you before, and then you wouldn't go through with it.

And you needed this. You needed to stop pretending like this is working anymore. And now you need to make him see it too.

"I don't think you want to know for how long I've been thinking about it", you answered, truthfully.

"No, I need to know. I need to know when you started to give up on us"

You whip your head to look at him when he said this.

"Give up on us?", you ask, incredulity seeping into your tone. "How dare you say Im giving up on us when I've been trying to make this work for four years? How dare you say I'm giving up on us when all you've ever given me is nothing but empty promises?", you question him, patience vanishing.

You didn't want this to become a fight. But you guess it was always going to be this way.

"Nothing? You're standing here saying that I give you nothing? I've given you everything for the past five years of my life"

"How can you tell me you've given me everything when I've been telling you tour after tour how fucking lonely I feel everytime you're away?", you question him. Has he forgotten everything?

"And I've told you that I can't change that right now!", he exclaims, frustrated. "Don't you think I'd rather stay here with the two of you instead of going away for months? You think I don't beat myself up for missing so much of Ezra's life because I was away somewhere in fucking Europe?"

"You can't change that and I can't keep living like this", you shrugged, understading where he's coming from, but tired of hearing the same thing you've heard so many times before.

"And you think this is gonna fix it?", he grabbed the folder and slightly slammed it on the counter. "You're running away from the problem instead of trying to fix it"

"I can't run from something that can't be fixed. I can't wait four more years for you to be here for us. I just can't"

"What about Ezra? Are you even thinking about him? How is he gonna take this? How is this gonna change his life?"

This was the breaking point for you, Noah talking about your son as if you're completely disregarding his well-being in this situation. The only person you had in mind was your son.

So, you said something that, to this day, you regret telling him. Because as much as you wished he was home more, that he called more, you couldn't deny that he was an amazing father. He cared for Ezra with his whole life, and you could actually see so much of Noah in him that it surprised you at times.

But, what was said can't be taken back.

"I don't know, Noah. Is it even gonna make much of a difference? You're never here anyway, so I don't even think he'd notice the change"

As soon as you said this, you could see the fight leave his body. His shoulders slumped and his eyes became downcast as the realization of what you just said hit him in the face.

He looked away from you, and you wanted to take it back immediately, but how could you?

"I'll get some of the guys to get my shit tomorrow", he said, turning his back to you and walking to the living room, grabbing the key to his car.

"Noah...", you called out, following after him, even though you have no idea what you could even say to him.

"I think you've said enough", he told you, and you haven't seen his face as cold as it was in that moment in all of the years you've been together. Actually, what brought you the most comfort was the warmth of his eyes.

Leaving the house, he half slammed the door behind him, leaving you standing there with your thoughts.

Sitting on the couch, you absolutely crumbled. Not being able to hold your tears anymore. You laid down in a fetal position, sobs racking through your body and reverberating in the emptiness of the house.

Your family was over. You were on your own now. And for a split second, you questioned if you did the right thing.

All of your friends were looking at you as if you had grown two heads. And you were desperately trying to pretend that you weren't affected by what was said just a few seconds ago.

After separating from Noah, you still kept the same friends. It just happened that your friends were also his friends. Or, they were friends, or significant others of his friends. Hearing about him and what he was up to was unavoidable. But you had to give it to them, they actually did try to keep his name out of most conversations.

It wasn't like you never spoke to him ever again. You did, because you had a kid together, after all. But the conversations were about Ezra 90% of the time. Never straying to personal matters and other topics.

You congratulated him on new music, or a new album when it came out. You told him when something happened at school with Ezra, or when something happened at the studio and you'd be late picking up Ezra from his place.

After being on your own, you went back to pursuing your dreams of being a tattoo artist, which is something you've started doing before getting pregnant. With the baby and the responsabilities you had, you started working less and less, until you stopped altogether.

You were happy to say your studio was thriving for about four years now. It took a while for you to get your footing back. Both emotionally and financially. And obviously, to fit everything into Ezra's schedule.

Today, you were grabbing lunch with a few friends, amongst them, were Matt, Davis and their girlfriends. The band had a final show of their tour here in California, and they were all excited about it.

Apparently, a few people from the industry were invited, and the venue was going to be larger than normal, probably their largest crowd yet.

You felt happy for them. The band deserved it and so did Noah. Especially after how hard they all worked for this.

It was when they were listing all of the people invited, that Matt let slip a very important information.

"Yeah, we're inviting the boys from Erra, and we're thinking of the possibility of Jesse playing guitar on stage", Lilly, Matt's girlfriend said.

"Crimson Halo is also going. I'll love to see how the internet is going to freak out about that", Matt pointed out, laughing at the idea.

"Why would the internet freak out?", you questioned.

Everyone started to look at each other funny. As if they shared a secret, an information you weren't in on. You started to feel uncomfortable.

"Guys?", you questioned again. "Is someone gonna tell me what is going on?"

"I don't know if you're going to like it", Lilly said, looking at Matt. You were now more confused than ever.

"Noah is dating Emery. The lead singer of the band", Davis ripped off the bandaid, and a heavy silence settled over the table.

You, on the other hand, was trying to act unaffected, but it was becoming more difficult as everyone was staring at you, trying to gauge your reaction.

"Oh, okay", you said, honestly not knowing the right way to respond to this.

You knew Noah must have been with other women after your split. You never heard about it, but five years have gone by, he must have been dating around in that time.

But this was the first time it was confirmed to you that he was in a new relationship, and you didn't know what to feel. It must be serious though, since she's attending his concerts.

Not to mention the fact that your son is going to be there. What is Noah going to say? Is he gonna tell him he has a new girlfriend? How is your son going to react? You hated this, since you knew you weren't supposed to know about it. But now that you did, you guess you'll have to talk to him about the situation.

"For how long have they been together?", you ask.

"For a couple of months", Davis answered, and you appreciated his honesty.

"I just wonder when he was planning on telling me this", you said, reaching for a fry and popping it into your mouth, needing something to do while you stewed in this information.

"I don't know. We also found out recently", Matt told you, and you could tell he felt bad about how the situation was unfolding.

"I was probably gonna find out from some fan account on Twitter, right?", you joked, but it didn't land. The show is in a couple of days from now, and if Noah thought this information wasn't important enough to share with you, it means you were going to find out from some blurry picture of them kissing or whatever.

The thought made your heart beat faster with anxiety.

After this, it goes without saying that the vibe wasn't the same. And in less than an hour, everyone was saying their goodbyes, and hugging each other.

Lilly enveloped you in her arms, but before parting completely, she held you at arm's length and leaned a little closer.

"If you're worried about Ezra, just know that Noah would never do anything to jeopardize the relationship with his son", she told you, and you saw sincerity in her eyes.

You knew this. You knew that Noah was a responsible father. But still, the fact that you were in the dark about all of this left a bitter taste in your mouth.

"Thank, Lilly. I appreciate it", you smiled, and everyone went their own way.

Back home, you sat on the couch while Ezra did his homework on the kitchen table. You pondered if you should do anything about this new piece of information. By now, Noah must know that you knew about it, since Matt and Davis most likely told him already.

You should just be quiet, and let this be. It was his relationship. It was his decision to tell you or not.

But, despite knowing this. You still send him a text.

You: If you are serious about her, let me know, so we can think of a way to tell Ezra.

Yeah, you were never good at keeping to yourself when it comes to him.

A few seconds later, your phone buzzes with a reply.

Noah: Can I come over later?

You sighed. If Noah wants to show up at your house, then the talk he wants to have must be important. You texted him back an "ok". Good thing Ezra is spending the night at his grandma's tonight. Your mom has been dying for a sleepover, and since it was a Friday, spending the weekend there would be the perfect opportunity.

You and Noah had joint custody, but a flexible schedule due to his job. Even though Ezra spent the most amount of time with you, you never limited for how long he was with Noah whenever he was not on tour.

After dropping off Ezra at your mom's house, you grabbed take out on the way back home. One rule that you kept even after the divorce, is that Fridays were the days for take out, and not cooking.

Grabbing your meal and thanking the server, you put the car in drive. But before you could start making your way back home, your phone vibrated on the center console. You saw it was a text message from Noah.

Noah: I'm on my way.

You didn't bother to answer, since you were about 5 minutes from your house. You would most likely arrive just in time to meet him there.

As you predicted, as soon as you set the food container on the kitchen counter, you heard a knock on your door. Opening it, you were met with Noah on the other side of the door. He was dressed as he usually was. Dark pants and a Bad Omens hoodie. You kept some of those in your closet as well. You got rid of the ones that belonged to him, and that for some reason, he had left behind when he moved out. The other ones were too comfy to throw in the donation pile.

"Come in", you told him, stepping aside to let him in the house.

There were few times when he actually came into your house, oftentimes, he stayed in the car while Ezra took his backpack and ran along the driveway to meet his dad. Whenever you were running late, he came in, but never went further into the house than the living room and kitchen.

You heard him closing the door behind him, as you made your way back to the kitchen, opening a drawer and grabbing a fork.

"Still doing no cooking Friday, I see", he pointed out, sitting in one of the stools in the kitchen island.

"Yep. You know how it is", you answered, as you sat down yourself. You pointed to the food in front of you, silently asking if he wanted some, but he just shook his head no.

Right now, you weren't too sure if you wanted to have this conversation with him eating. But, oh well.

"Matt told me what happened today at lunch", he started.

"To say it was a little uncomfortable would be an understatement", you pointed out. You really didn't mean to be petty about this, but as soon as he touched on the subject, it just came out of you. You decided to dial it down a little bit. You didn't want this to become a fight.

"I'm sorry. I was going to tell you. I was just waiting for the right time"

"You couldn't find the right time in the couple of months you've been together?", you challenged him. He was talking as if he started dating this girl last week.

"I was never going to introduce her to Ezra without talking to you", Noah said. And it was true. He knew how protective you were of Ezra, and he was never going to take a miscalculated step that could affect his son's life.

"I believe you. It would just be nice to know"

He nodded, showing you he understood where you were coming from.

"But now that I know, we need to talk about how things are going to be from now on"

"I still don't pretend to introduce her as my girlfriend to him, Y/N"

You ignored the way he said "my girlfriend" tugged at your heart in a way you were not ready to admit.

"Ok, but what about when you decide to do it?", you question him.

"We've been separated for a while now. It would be natural for us to start dating other people. He's 9, he'll understand", he said and you sighed. Your son was a very emotionally mature kid, you gotta give him that.

"Just be careful when you do it, ok? I don't want him hurting", you pointed the fork at him when you said it. "And please, only do it if you know for sure that this girl is going to stick around"

You knew that Noah was completely aware of everything you were saying to him. But he let you say it anyway, because he knew it took a weight off your chest to do it.

"You don't have to worry about it", he reassured you, and you nodded in response. "This is not the only thing I came here to talk about"

You stopped chewing the second he said this. You had a feeling that whatever it was, wouldn't make you happy.

"Ezra is coming to the concert next friday, right?", he asked and you hummed in agreement. Every time the band performed here, Ezra would attend the concert. "I need you there with him this time", he said and you almost choked on your food.

"What?", you ask, indignation in your voice. Ever since separating, you never attented one of his concerts again. It was actually something you told him you did not want to do. Whenever Ezra would go, Alana would pick him up and stay with him the whole time, so you didn't have to worry.

"Alana is actually very sick this time, and she can't go. Ezra is really excited and I didn't want him to miss it", Noah explained.

"And you don't have anyone else?"

"Not really", he shrugged his shoulders. "Everyone else is going to be busy, and I can't be with him all the time"

You knew how chaotic it could get while getting ready for a concert. The boys would all be running around, making sure everything goes to plan. And truth be told, you didn't expect any of them to stop what they were doing to take care of a nine year old.

"I already told you I didn't want to go anymore", you said, head low. You suddenly didn't want to look at him anymore. You also lost your appetite, so your hand just stirred the food around with your fork aimlessly.

The thing is, going to these concerts were one of your favorite things to do when you and Noah were still together. You loved to watch him go up on the stage. You loved to watch him sing his heart out, and command the crowd in the way only he knew how to do.

In the last stages of your relationship though, it was such a bittersweet feeling. Because you knew that no matter what you did, nothing could ever compare to the thrill he felt up there. In a way, you resented the stage, but you started to understand why he went away for months and months to perform.

"Listen, you don't have to watch if you don't want to. But he needs you there this time", Noah said. You knew he was right, and you hated the idea of telling your son he wouldn't get to go.

"Ok, I'll be there", you decided. Not too excited about the idea, but there's nothing you could do about it right now. "Can you tell your girlfriend I'm going? Just so it isn't awkward or anything", you add.

"I will. You don't have to worry about that", Noah reassures you, and you nod in appreciation.

You take another bite of your food, as a silence falls over the two of you. It was always like this. Awkaward silences, trying to find something to talk about. It felt like you didn't have anything in common anymore. It felt like you couldn't relate to each other anymore. And you weren't sure of what hurt more, even after five years.

After a few more seconds, he stood up.

"I should get going", he said, grabbing his car keys set on the counter in front of him. You abandon your food in order to open the door for him.

"I'll se you on Friday, I guess", you tell him, as he steps onto your front porch.

"I'll see you. I'll get Matt to text you the details, along with your backstage pass", Noah informs you, you say thanks and then he's back on his car, peeling off the driveway.

Noah waits until he rounds the corner to stop his car. He feels like he needs to catch his breath. Every time he's inside your house, it takes all of the energy out of him. And this time, it's no different.

He replays the interation word by word in his head. When Matt had texted him, saying that he let it slip that Noah has a new girlfriend, he knew he needed to talk to you about it sooner rather than later.

He was just avoiding it, and for many reasons. Emery was a nice girl, but Noah would be lying if he said he saw a future for them. A future further than what they had right now. He didn't even know if he could call her his girlfriend. He never really asked her oficially, but after a couple of weeks of them being together, going out together, going to each other's places, he thinks he doesn't really need to say much. Besides, other people around him just started to refer to them as boyfriend and girlfriend, and he didn't have the heart to correct them.

He knows he should say something. He should say he's not emotionally available right now. He should say he's not looking for something long lasting. But, the truth is, he doesn't want to look like a fool. Because, the moment he says that, he knows he'll need to talk about you. Because you're the reason he hasn't been available for the past five years, and, honestly, how can he say that?

How can he say he hasn't moved on from a relationship that's ended five years ago? How can he say that you're still the only that can get his heart beating faster every time you look at him? How can he say that after everything you've said to him that night, he can still feel like you're the only one for him?

He knows he needs to talk about it. Maybe with a professional, like the boys have hinted at many times. He just feels like if he gets rid of these feelings, if he finally moves on, he'll be losing that last piece of you. That last piece of how you were together, despite the bad times and the fights. And he's not ready for that.

Pulling the car in drive again, he sighs out loud before starting to drive. He's headed to Emery's place. Earlier in the day, she had invited him for dinner, and he had said yes. Right now, he doesn't really feel like it, but he also doesn't feel like cancelling last minute. So he just drives.

When he arrives, Noah turns off his car and hops off, making his way to her front door and ringing the doorbell. When she opens the door, she's wearing this cute apron, and she greets him with a smile on her face and a peck on the lips, ushering him in.

The first thing Noah notices is the smell permeating the house, and his stomach grumbles almost instantly.

"What are you making?", he asks, pulling out a chair at the table and sitting down, as he watches Emery carry on what she was doing before he arrived.

"I'm just putting together a lasagna. You like that, right?", she asks, and he could've sworn he froze right there. Before she could catch him though, he schooled his features and told her that yes, he does like lasagna.

The dish just happened to be your specialty, though. Making lasagna used to be your favorite thing to do in the kitchen, and the preparation could take days, since you insisted to make the lasagna sheets from scratch, instead of those you buy at the store and just boil.

Needless to say, it was Noah's favorite dish of yours. Nothing could ever compare to it, and every time there was a get together, the boys always requested you made it, and you always said yes, with the biggest smile on your face.

For a second, Noah wondered if this would ever stop. Would there be a day when he wouldn't compare everything to how things were before? Would you ever stop permeating his every interation? Would there be a day when he wouldn't remember you when something like this happens? If yes, then how long more would he have to wait?

They sit down on the couch and talk, as a movie is playing in the background, and they're waiting for the dish to cool down a bit, since it was just pulled out of the oven.

"How are the preparations for the concert on Friday?", Emery asks. Noah takes a gulp of the beer she offered him.

"It's going well. There's only so much we can prepare for, you know?", he answers. One of the things they bonded over when they met was music, and since Emery also had her own band, she could understand a few things Noah went through with his.

"Yeah, I know", she agrees. "Some stuff are still gonna go wrong, anyways"

Noah thought this was a good time as any to tell her you were attending the concert. He didn't talk about you often when he's with her, and whenever he did, he could notice the girl grow a but uneasy at the topic of conversation.

Part of him wanted to tell her to not worry about it, that you've been split up for five years, and there was no way you would get back together. But the other part of him couldn't lie. If the opportunity ever presented itself, if you could ever talk about things and make the wrongs rights. If in some magic land you decided to try again, he would take that opportunity and never look back.

"By the way, I wanted to tell you something. Just so you're ready for it", he started, and she nodded for him to keep going. "Y/N is going to be there to accompany Ezra. Lana is the one who's usually with him, but since she's sick this time, his mom has to go"

As per usual, at the mention of your name, her smile falters a little and he can see her trying to conceal it.

"Oh, ok", she answers shortly, and he can see her struggling with her words.

"She wanted me to tell you, so things aren't awkward", Noah explained it further, not really knowing why. You're the mother of his kid, he doesn't really have to explain himself when it comes to this.

"You talk to her a lot?", she asks, changing the subject completely. Noah has caught her asking these questions lately, and he's been usually good at answering - or dodging - them. This time though, after everything that's happened today, he doesn't really have the emotional intelligence to answer her without letting some annoyance slip into his voice.

"Of course I do. We have a kid together", he tells her, not leaving much room for debate.

"I know that. I was just wondering if that would ever be a problem in the future, for us", he says, and Noah has to do some mental gymnastics to understand what the hell she is on about. When he doesn't say anything, she keeps going.

"Are you going to introduce me as your girlfriend?"

"She already knows about us"

Noah wanted to tell her that no, he's not introducing her as his girlfriend, because that's not what she is, but decided that's an argument he didn't want to have tonight.

"What about other people?", she asks again, and Noah gets frustrated with her questions.

"If you want to ask me something, just do it. You don't have to dance around the subject", he is upfront with her.

"When are you going to tell your son we're dating?", Emery asks, and for a second, Noah regrets asking for honesty. He rubs his forehead and sighs. Now he remembers more than ever why he's been avoiding relationships all this time.

"For him, you're my friend. And that's it", Noah answers with full honesty. That's one subject he is set on making it clear with Emery. He doesn't play about his son, and he needs her to know that. He's not ready for this, and if she can't understand that, then too bad for her.

"I feel like that's all I am to you as well", she says and he wants to bolt out of this house and end this conversation.

"Listen, Emery. This is what I can give you right now, ok? I told you from the beginning that I have a kid, and that things were going to be very different. You said that was ok, and now you want me to tell my son that we're together? It really doesn't work like that", Noah is losing his patience, and she could tell.

"If this is going nowhere, I just want you to be honest with me about it, because I won't play second to a woman who has been out of your life for five years", Emery says, getting up to set the table.

Suddenly, Noah feels suffocated in this house. He is dreading having to sit at the table with her and eat, pretending that this is ok. It is not ok, and he wantes to scream in her face to never talk about you like that ever again. That she couldn't understand, not in a million years, what you meant to him. She couldn't understand how you made him the happiest man alive. How you gave him the best thing that has ever happened to him. His son.

Instead, he gets up, mutters an "I can't do this", and leaves through the front door.

You're doing your makeup in the bathroom when Ezra comes in, calling out for you.

"Mom, look at my clothes", he stands there, and you turn around to take a look at him. A smile immediately taking over your face.

"You look great, buddy", you compliment him, eyes going up and down his small - but ever growing - frame. "Is that a new shirt?", you ask him, since you don't remember him having this Bad Omens shirt in his closet the last time you checked. You always had to keep an eye on him, especially after he started putting together his own outfits. You never knew what combination could come out of that closet.

"Yes, it is! Uncle Davis gave me one, and he said it's not even released yet, and I'm the only one who has it", his smile is even bigger now, his energy almost overflowing. Something Noah was adamant on doing, ever since having a kid, was create a Bad Omens merch line for kids. It was a total succes and has been for a few years now. Ezra even modeled a few times.

"Well, that sure is nice", you tell him, turning around and going back to your makeup. "I think you're missing something, though", you observe, and you see the lightbulb going off in his head, as he bolts out of the bathroom and back to his bedroom.

A few seconds later, he's back, tugging his fake tattoo sleeves up his arms.

"Thanks for reminding me, mom", he tells you, and you let out a genuine laugh at the way he's so relieved you remembered.

You loved those damn fake tattoo sleeves he always wears so much. It started off with him wanting to look just like Noah. But then, as you went back to working in the studio, he realized both of his parents were tattoo enthusiasts, and the habit had a whole new meaning for him.

You knew Noah would lose it when he sees him wearing them, despite seeing it a hundred times before, it never really gets old.

"I'm just finishing here. Why don't you wait for me on the couch?", you instruct and watch him leave once again.

You take a look at the clock and see that you still have a few minutes until you have to leave the house. You opted for an all-black outfit, with the intent to blend in as much as you could. You actually thought about the possibility of wearing one of your old merch shirts, but ultimately decided against it.

Last night, when you were overthinking and debating on whether to cancel this last minute or not, you found yourself on Instagram. One thing led to another and suddenly, you were deep in Emery's profile.

You couldn't help but notice how gorgeous she was, and how much she fit in with Noah's lifestyle. Probably in a way you never could.

They probably bonded over so many things. Music, tours, albums, production. All of the things Noah came home trying to explain to you after a stressful day in the studio, but noticed you couldn't really grasp the idea of everything they did in there.

Their conversations probably flowed way easier too. She probably helped him during studio sessions, and he probably did the same. Hell, you wouldn't even be surprised of they collabed together.

Before you could go into a way deeper spiral of comparison, you looked in the mirror and decided it was enough effort for today. You were probably wearing the most amount of makeup you've worn in weeks, and that in itself was enough for you. Who were you trying to impress anyway?

Grabbing your purse from the couch, you put on your sneakers, turn off all the lights, and go around the house cheking one more time if everything is locked as it is supposed to be.

Calling out to Ezra, you grab you car keys, but before you could even do anything, the kid has already opened the front door, and is eagerly waiting for you to unlok the car. Once you did, he hopped in the back and strapped himself in.

Being Noah's son, Ezra didn't even need a booster seat around this age anymore, and you were 100% sure he would grow to be as tall, if not even taller, than his dad.

"Let's go, buddy", you tell him, getting in yourself and turning on the car.

"Mom, I'm so happy you're coming tonight. You're going to love it!", you looked in the rearview mirror and saw his smile, and for that moment, you weren't even conflicted about going anymore.

You had texted Noah about thirty minutes ago, telling him that you and Ezra were on your way. He was waiting in the bus area, since that's where he told you to park.

Meanwhile, Noah thought about how Emery was inside. They haven't really spoken after their argument a few days ago. But tonight, she did tell him she wanted to talk after the concert is over. Noah has decided he was going to "break up" with her, even though they weren't together officially in the first place.

Now, he needed to focus on you and Ezra. And if things went well tonight, maybe you'd let him take you guys to dinner after the concert. He was holding his hopes high.

After a couple of minutes, he sees your car parking not too far from where he's standing. The headlights turn off and you step out along with Ezra, who immediately runs to his father.

"Dad! Look at my new merch", he says, grabbing the bottom of his shirt, showing it off. Noah couldn't help but chuckle at the way he never lets go of the fake tattoo sleeves. They're even a little ripped in places, he's even offered to buy him a new one, but he refuses every time.

"You look awesome, buddy", Noah envelops his son in a hug, lifting him off his feet a little. "You ready to rock tonight?", he asks and his kid answers with a very enthusiastic yes.

"I'm sorry it took me a while, there was a little bit of traffic", you tell him, and he can't help but observe how you look tonight. He never fails to get startruck by your beauty.

"It's ok. We should be heading in", he leads you both inside the venue, through the halls and finally, you step inside the green room.

"You guys can stay in here. There's water and catering outside if you need anything", he tells you.

"I know how it works, don't worry about us. Soon, this little one here will want to walk around and explore the place, right?", you ruffle Ezra's head and he agrees with you. The kid can never stay in one place for too long.

"There's security outside if you need anything. I'll have to get ready since the concert is starting soon", you nod in acknowledgement, reassuring Noah that, once again, everything is going to be ok.

He leaves to get ready and in about fifteen minutes, you and Ezra are walking around the halls backstage. You see and talk to people you haven't seen in years, but they look well acquainted with your son, and you feel happy to see him fitting in Noah's life so seamlessly.

Soon enough, you're standing beside Ezra on side stage, the concert about to start shortly.

"I'm gonna grab us some water bottles, ok?", you tell him, signaling for a security guard to keep an eye on him, and he answers you with a smile that tells you that he's used to keeping an eye on the kid when he's watching the concert.

Back in the green room, you go through some notifications on your phone before grabbing the water bottles, knowing you won't have time to do it while the concert is happening.

You're standing there when you hear the door open behind you, and you're ready to tell Ezra he could've stayed where he was, before the words die on your lips when you're met with Emery.

Your mind had kind of scraped her from your thoughts since arriving. You hadn't seen her yet and you actually thought she might not be attending.

"Oh, hi", she greets, and you can clock the fake tone of her voice the minute she speaks. "I think I have the wrong room", she says, but makes no move to get out.

"Can I help you with something?", you ask her, and you can tell that she knows who you are. Suddenly, it doesn't really look like she got in here by mistake.

"I was just looking for some water"

"There are some in here, you can grab one if you want", you tell her, pointing to the mini fridge.

She makes her way over, opening it and grabbing a water bottle. Popping the cap, she takes a few gulps while you watch her.

"I think Noah has mentioned you before", she wonders out loud. "What's your name again?", she asks.

You know what she's doing, and you're 100% sure Noah has mentioned you before and that she knows your name.

"I'm Y/N", you tell her, not bothering to shake hands or anything.

"Oh, you're the ex-wife!", she exclaims, as if she's making a huge point by saying this.

"That's me", you don't bother to hide your annoyance with her. You knew she came in here with the intent to have this conversation, and to probably rile you up and make you feel some kind of jealousy of her relationship.

"So, you're the reason why Noah can't commit to anyone anymore, huh?", she points out and you have to do a double take to make sure you heard her right.

"Excuse me?", you question.

"Yeah, you heard me. Five years later and he still can't get you out of his head"

"Listen, my son is waiting for me, and the concert is about to start. Besides, I really don't want to be having this conversation", you tell her, turning on your back. You really needed to tell Noah his taste in girls has declined drastically over the years.

"You're the reason why he hasn't asked me to be his girlfriend", she half yells after you.

"I don't know who the hell you think you are, but you're not gonna raise your voice at me", you throw back at her.

"Oh, you wanna act so high and mighty as if you haven't ruined Noah's life"

"You know nothing about me, and you know nothing about our relationship. So, I suggest you get you act right before I call security on you", you warn her, and you see her opening her mouth to retort when a voice speaks from the door.

"What the fuck is happening in here?", Noah's standing there, looking between the two of you, before his eyes settle on Emery.

"She was screaming at me, and threatening to call security on me. Can you believer her, Noah?", Emery says, voice calm this time. You sigh out loud at her fakeness.

"She won't have to, I am doing it myself", Noah tells her, and her face falls at his words. In seconds, there is a burly security guard scorting Emery out of the premises, as she's still throwing false accusations at you.

Once she's gone, and you and Noah are alone in the green room, a heavy silence settles over the two of you.

"That's your girlfriend?", you ask him, a hint of teasing in your voice. He only shakes his head.

"I can't explaing everything right now, because if I do, I'll be late to go on stage. But I'd really to talk to you when the concert is over. Is that ok?", he asks.

"Yeah, of course. We'll need to talk about this regardless", you agree with him.

Not too long after, you're back beside Ezra and the concert has started. To say you're focused would be a lie. You're not really absorbing anything that is happening before you. You can feel Ezra's presence beside you, absolutely rocking his little heart out. But you can't help but replay the conversation from earlier.

When Matt let it slip that Noah was dating someone else, you thought that Noah and this girl were official. And now you meet her, and she's blaming you because Noah doesn't want to commit? Why didn't he make it clear to you that they were not actually dating? You actually feel a little like a fool. For texting him about it, for questioning if he pretended to introduce her to Ezra, while they weren't even together.

You zone out for a little longer, until the music goes quiet and Noah is talking to the crowd.

"This is somewhat of a new version of a song you guys already know", he says, grabbing an acoustic guitar one of the techs hand out to him. Making his way back to the mic stand, his eyes meet yours for a second, before he's focused back on the crowd.

"You all will be the first crowd to hear the acoustic version of Just Pretend", he announces, and for a second, the noise from the crowd is so defeaning, you can't even hear the first couple of strums on the guitar.

After a few seconds, the whole crowd is holding up their flashlights, and Noah starts singing.

I'm not afraid

Of the war you've come to wage against my sins

I'm not okay

But I can try my best to just pretend

You've heard this song before. Of course you have. Especially after all of the discourse on social media saying he wrote it about your relationship. In one interview though, he did say it was just to show how easy you can make a radio hit. You decided to run with that excuse as well. It was easiar to cope with the words he wrote, and is now singing in front of you.

I can wait for you at the bottom

I can stay away if you want me to

I can wait for years if I gotta

Heaven knows I ain't getting over you

You couldn't help but connect the words to what Emery told you earlier. You always thought Noah would have an easier time moving on than you. He was always on the road, he had things to distract his mind. He had girls waiting for him at every tour stop. Now, as you look at him, with his eyes closed and so focused on every word from the song, you wonder if he really hasn't gotten over you.

We'll try again

When we're not so different

We will make amends

till then I'll just pretend

You're standing still, not able to take your eyes away from him, when his head slightly turns to the side, and he looks at you. The eyes you used to love so much, now looking at you with so much sincerity and longing, you were sure you could dissolve right then and there. You were always able to communicate with him through looks, with his eyes being so expressive, there were many times when he didn't even have to tell you what he was thinking for you to figure it out.

Now, you realize that ability never really went away. Because you saw begging in his eyes. You saw the tool that being away from you has taken on him.

Weigh down on me, stay till morning

Way down, would you say I'm worthy?

Weigh down on me, stay till morning

Way down, would you say I'm worthy?

He finishes the song, and before you know it, you're wiping tears from your eyes. It feels like the night has taken a turn, and you're not sure if you want to face what comes next, but, for the first time in a while, you feel like things could be ok again.

You're waiting for Noah in the green room you were in before. You were sat on the couch, fingers unable to stay still, as you pick on your nails, your cuticles, anything to distract your mind and quiet your anxiety for a few seconds.

Ezra is off helping Matt pack up his things, and you just know it's going to take a while, from what you can remember, especially with how meticulous Matt is with his equipment.

The door opens, momentarily letting in the noise from outside, and you turn your head to look at Noah. His hair is wet, and a few strands are clinging to his forehead.

You remember well how it was when he finished concerts, especially when you guys were younger, and couldn't keep your hands off of each other. You always thought he looked his best a little out of breath, voice a little hoarse from singing. Apparently, that hasn't changed.

"I'm sorry for what happened earlier", he started, leaning on the table set on the corner of the room, leaving a little space between you.

"You don't have to apologize for her actions. I just want to know why you didn't tell me you weren't really dating her", you question him, and he lowers his head. You could tell he was bracing himself and trying to be vulnerable to the best of his abilities.

"We started hanging out, and I guess everyone just assumed we were together. I never really asked her to be my girlfriend", he started. You didn't say anything, deciding to wait for him to gather his thoughts. "I haven't dated anyone since the divorce".

The admission shocks you a little bit. You were 100% sure there have been other people since you.

"Why not?", you ask, voice a little hesitant and quiet.

"Isn't it obvious? I mean, she told you why"

"I wanna hear you say it"

"You wanna hear me say that I haven't been able to get over you in the five years we've been divorced? You wanna hear me say that I blame myself for that goddamn divorce every fucking day of my life? Because that's how I feel"

"I don't blame you for the divorce", you tell him, and you really don't. Over the years, you were able to realize if it hadn't happened then, it would've happened later on anyway.

"I blame myself because I should've tried harder. I should've tried harder to make you stay. I should've told you everything that was going on. But no, I just signed the papers like a damn fool"

"What do you mean tell me everything that was going on?", you question him, that part of his speech cathing your attention.

"We were under so much pressure from the label. I asked them to make the tours shorter, so I could spend more time with you and Ezra, that was only just a baby back then. They basically told me that if I wasn't willing to put in the work, we could find another label to release our album", he told you.

This was new information for you, you never knew that Noah talked to the label, and that they denied his requests.

"How could I do that? If I was a solo artist, I would've let them drop me in the blink of an eye so I could be with you two. But I had the guys to think about. So many other people were waiting on the success of the album. And once it was out, everything just got worse. They were scheduling tours after tours, and we couldn't say no, because we had a contract signed"

You didn't know what to say. You had your forehead pressed to your palms. All this new information making your head spin.

"Why didn't you tell me?", you raise your head and look him in the eye. "This is the kind of shit that you tell your wife", you were growing frustrated over the fact that he didn't communicate with you back then.

"I was afraid I would push you away. I was afraid you'd realize this isn't the kind of life you wanted and you'd leave me eventually. Look where that fucking got me, huh?", he motions around him, hands falling on his sides in frustration and resignation.

"I thought you weren't trying. I felt so alone because I thought you weren't putting in the effort because you thought the road was so much more interesting than staying at home, taking care of a baby and cleaning up spit and changing diapers", you get up from the couch, your own frustration showing. "You should've fucking talked to me", you say, once again, as you get closer to him.

"Everything I've ever wanted was to stay at home, taking care of my baby, cleaning spit and changing diapers", he tells you and your eyes start to water from the intensity of the moment.

You don't know what to do with yourself right now. You were angry at him for not saying anything earlier. You were angry at yourself because you just assumed the worst from him.

"I don't know what to do", you confess to him.

"I don't know either", he confesses back to you.

In the second you lock eyes, all of the emotions spill over. You take a step closer and crash into his arms. He envelops his arms around you in an instant, holding you firm and sure as you cry in his chest.

You don't know why you're crying so much. You think it's because you finally get to feel him again after so long without his touch. Maybe because right now, in his arms, things feel like they felt almost ten years ago, and he was your safe haven. He was the one who could make all of the sadness and pain go away. He was the one who could shut your mind off and make you focus only on him.

"Shh, I'm here, ok?", he reassures you, running his fringers through your hair.

"I'm so sorry", you're sobbing as you part from him and look him in the eyes. "I'm so sorry. I feel like I ruined everything".

"You haven't ruined anything", he told you, grasping your face in his hands, and you lean on his touch. "I would never make you stay in a relationship when you didn't feel happy. Your feelings were valid and you made the decision you thought was right", he caressed your cheeks with his thumb, wiping away a few tears that still slipped from your eyes.

"You deserve so much more than what I gave you. You deserve someone who can see you as the amazing person that you are. You deserve....", he shuts off your rambling by pressing his lips on yours. You're stunned, and you don't move for a second. After realizing what is happening, and you register his warm lips on yours, just like they felt so long ago, you completely relax. He doesn't move, doesn't deepen the kiss. You just stay there for a second, feeling each other. And it feels so perfect, that you want to cry all over again.

"I had to stop you there. You weren't making much sense, to be honest", he tells you, parting from your lips, but keeping close.

"I'm sorry", you say, once again. And he nods, telling you that he knows.

You stay wrapped in his arms for a while longer, resting your head on his chest, and Noah revels in the feeling of you against him. He feels like he can finally breath easier for the first time in years.

"The boys and I are leaving Sumerian", he tells you, and you part from him to look him in the face.

"Really?", you ask and he nods. "Why?"

"Our contract is up and we're not re-signing", he explains, like it's the most logical thing ever.

"What label are you signing with?"

"Our own", he says, and you have a puzzled look on your face.

"Your own?"

"The boys and I are opening an independent label"

Your mouth hangs open in shock, and you feel happy for all of them. This is something they've wanted for such a long time now.

"This is so great, Noah", you tell him and he smiles at you.

"Now, we won't have that pressure anymore. Everythig becomes a little easier and we're able to control our schedule much better", he explains, and you know where he's getting at. A flutter of happiness takes over you. You were going to be ok.

"I was thinking that we could go have dinner after everything's packed up. You, Ezra and I", you tell him, deciding to start with baby steps first.

"It's like you read my mind", Noah grasps your face once again, placing his lips on yours for the second time tonight, and this time, you circle your arms around his neck.

You want to stay here forever, and now, you felt like you could.

Tag list: @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @bloody-spades @mysterygirl-srl @lacy1986 @dream-machine-love @theanarchymuse95 @missduffsblog @xmads-omensx @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @w0manof-flesh44 @chey-h @pipidoll @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @kissestomyomens @hedonist-k1l @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @daemontargaryenwife @h0riz0nsiren @astronoids @flowery-mess @renegadebirch

If you haven't been tagged, it's because your blog doesn't mention your age, or it is empty!

#bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens imagine #noah sebastian imagine #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens angst #noah sebastian angst #exhusband!Noah #exwife!reader #divorce fic

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running-with-kn1ves · 2 years ago

Note

Got me awe struck how you write so well kinda wish i had that skill too! Anyway, how about boyfriend praising reader(who felt insecure) starting from sweet then getting creepier. Like something in the lines of "praising their kindness, so lucky to have them" to "he knows , he will kill for them."

A/N: A/N: sacrificed my soul for this one and it didn't turn out as slayful as I wanted.. Anyway, I hope this is what you were thinking anon :D sorry for any mistakes and thank you!

Synopsis: Your boyfriend's compliment goes a little too far when he tries to cheer you up.

T/W: Mildly graphic threats of violence, forced kissing, manipulation, insecure reader, yandere themes/behaviors

WC:3000

You found yourself in a bathroom stall for the fifth time in one evening, sitting on the toilet with your head in your hands. You just wanted it all to go away: the people, the drinks, the music that boomed in your ears. You had already stained your sequined clothes with spilt champagne earlier that night, the stickiness of it on your chest beginning to mix with the thick sweat crawling down your neck. It was too damn hot in here, the buzz of the bathroom fan making you claw at your updone hair.

The mass amounts of club goers here were far more accustomed to this lifestyle than you. Which was intimidating, to say the least. They all looked so perfectly dolled up-- not a smudge of makeup out of place, delicious scents of colognes and perfumes mixing together. Not to mention, they could hold their alcohol far better than you could.

One bitter cocktail and you were already hazy-eyed, your face warm and balance a little loopy. You were by no means drunk, but the contents of your drink had certainly offered a level of instability to your emotions and movements.

The image of men in their chic dress shirts that showed hours of gym time and girls in their tight party dresses made you want to curl up in the corner and marinate in self-pity. It was hard not to compare yourself, not when you spent hours searching for the right clothes that would fit with your boyfriend’s stylish accents, constantly perfecting your concealer to hide the dark bags beneath your eyes.

And yet, even with your hard work, you still felt out of place, still felt the pinch of hundreds of passing stares and biting grins of condescension as you stood next to your overly charismatic significant other.

Through your pounding headache and shaky breaths, You could hear the winding creak of the bathroom door being pushed open.

Narrow-footed shoes echoed on the white tile floor, slowly passing each bathroom stall and sink basin.

“Sweetheart?” A voice questioned. “You in here?”

You stayed silent, covering your mouth and lifting your feet from the floor. You didn’t want him to know you had spent the past 20 minutes in here wiping away stinging tears from your eyes, shoving paper towels down the front of your dazzling shirt to soak up champagne. You smelled like alcohol and whatever cleaner they used to permeate the bathroom with, and it certainly wouldn’t be a sight that you wanted your boyfriend to see.

However, despite your attempts to make yourself disappear, you saw his clubbing shoes patiently make their way to the front of your stall. You looked within the separating crack of the door and the wall, seeing a blur of black clothes and sun-kissed skin. Your eyes focused and without warning you made eye contact with him, his face showing a worried, yet sly grin. He was waiting-- peering in on you sitting there in ruin.

You jolted in surprise, your foot slipping from the toilet seat as you looked away. You hoped if you moved fast enough, that maybe he would think you were someone else.

“C’mon, let me in.” He pressed against the door, trying to open it from the outside.

Well, seemed like tricking him didn’t work.

“Don’t come in here Ezra! I--” You weren’t sure how to convince him to go away. “I don’t want you to see me.”

He went quiet, keeping his hand atop the door handle and watching the door.

“Why not?”

Panic rose in your chest again, forcing you to try to come up with a way to get him to leave you alone, atleast long enough to make yourself look presentable.

“I-... I just--”

“C’mon, I promise I won’t make fun of you or anything, just open the door,” He raddled the handle, pressing his face against the crack of the door.

“Don’t!” You shout, trying to cover the crack with your hands.

Your boyfriend let out a low grunt, annoyed at your stubbornness.

He tried rattling the door once more, pulling hard enough to make the hinges creak. You feared that if he pulled any harder, he might rip the entire door off.

“You’ve been in there for almost a half hour,” Ezra impatiently replied, putting his hand on the top of the stall door. “If you don’t open up, I’m going to force my way in there.”

He began to pull, jerking the door hard enough that the other stalls began to clatter.

“No-- wait okay okay okay!” You panicked, trying to pry his hand away from the top of the door.

Instantaneously he grabbed your wrist, pulling it upward to get a good handle on you. His fingers were warm, as if he had his hands clenched for a long period of time.

“I’m not letting go until you do.” He said coldly, squeezing your hand. He was serious, holding your wrist securely enough to show he meant business: he’d stand there all night if that's what it took. Your several disappearances had worried him enough.

His thumb moved up to caress the dip in your palm, turning your hand to face outwards. Ezra’s face was still pressed up against the door crack, looking to provoke you further out.

Stomping your foot, you wracked your brain for something-- anything, to deter him away. But the lingering threat of his hand left your mind to draw a blank.

“....Fine.” You mutter, pulling the paper towels out of your chest. You try to wipe away any leftover tears, but you know it does little to lessen the redness of your eyes.

With a shaky breath, you ask him to stand back, and slowly unlock the door. Purposely taking as long as possible, you keep your feet moving at an inchworm's pace, hardly stepping away from the stall.

Your boyfriend tears open the stall door now that its unlocked, not yet releasing your arm.

You see his figure in front of you but refuse to look up, instead turning away and allowing him to drag you out of the small confines of the stall. He pulls you to the large sink basins, reaching for your chin. You flinch a little as he turns your head, looking at your tear stricken face. You felt like a mess, but he didn’t seem to change expression as you stared back.

“Now, what’s been the matter sweetheart?”

You feel the cold of his rings against your balmy cheeks, his thumb running over your wet eyelashes to brush away unfallen tears.

“I just don’t feel good…” You say, relishing in the affection, even though it makes your stomach churn.

“What doesn't feel good?” He asks, letting go to inspect the rest of you.

You relax against the low counter, feeling it hit your tailbone.

“Did someone hurt you?” He searches your body for marks. “Are you feeling sick? Had too much to drink, baby?”

You shake your head, suddenly feeling like a child answering to their mother.

“You’re going to have to tell me what it is, then. I can’t read your mind.” He lightly scolds.

There’s a gentleness in the deep vibrato of his voice as he bares the blunt words, looking at you with an expectant gaze.

You fidget a tad, beginning to pace in a small two-step dance.

“I just--” You turn away, fidgeting with your fingers. “I feel, ridiculous.”

You move to grasp your forehead, avoiding your boyfriends gaze.

“Dressed up in this stupid get up, surrounded by these people who-- who I don’t belong next to, who make me look like a fool for being here…!”

You fold your arms over your chest defensively, turning away from the man.

“Did you see the way everyone was looking at me? I looked so stupid, standing next to you! Or even next to them, as if I could convince them that I belong here, next to someone of their own.” You turned to stare at your reflection in the mirror, not recognizing the person who stared back. “I just.. I don’t belong here, with you… with these people… I feel absurd for even trying.”

You hear your voice shake at the last few words, not realizing you were getting worked up enough to cry. But then there it was, that burning in your nose and the blurriness of tears in your eyes. You felt your face scrunch and tense up, the ugliness of your cries breaking out to make you feel even smaller.

Putting a hand to your mouth and turning away from the mirror, you hoped your boyfriend hadn’t seen or heard the way you appeared ready to sob.

But a heavy, commanding hand pulled your shoulder back, turning you around with ease as you let your body fall to whatever whims he desired.

Your nose was shoved against Ezra’s chest as he pushed your head against him, wrapping his arms around you. He stroked your hair, pushing it off your sweaty skin. It was almost suffocating, the way he trapped you against him. But it made you feel secure, knowing that he couldn’t see your face full of tears and shame, that you didn’t have to continue to spill your heart out to him.

“Baby….” He said. It was in such a soft, understanding tone that you didn’t think it came from his lips at first. “How could you ever, ever, compare yourself to these… strangers?”

You sniffled against his dress shirt, hiding yourself in his chest and expensive cologne, a scent so familiar and potent that it put your body at ease.

“I mean, you? Versus them? These half drunken idiots who can barely hold themselves up?” Your boyfriend chuckled, shaking slightly against you. “Darling why would you ever want to be like them?”

You wiped your eyes, trying to keep your emotions at bay.

“I thought thats what… you wanted. How else am I supposed show up when I meet your friends.” You mumbled.

Your boyfriend pulls your chin, lifting you to face him.

“I brought you here to meet everyone because I wanted them to meet you, not whatever persona the rest of the assholes here portray.”

You looked away, letting his words sink in.

“Besides, they were only looking at you because you were the most captivating thing in that room,” He ran his pointer finger over your bottom lip, the cold of his rings hitting the bitten skin.

“The most,” He cut himself off with a kiss to your neck. “Stunning,” kiss, ” “kind,” another kiss, “and amazing thing in that room. They were just how awestruck I was when I first saw you.”

He softened as he saw you squeeze your lips shut, preventing a smile from escaping.

“Though I won’t let them make the same moves on you like I did.” He joked, laughing as he saw you roll your eyes.

Brushing his thumb on your cheek, Ezra took away the remnants of tears. A pit of shame grew in your stomach when you saw him frown at your saddened state.

“But listen,” He bent closer to your face, shifting his warm hands to cup your cheeks. “You’re the best thing to happen to me, hands down. And I wouldn’t trade any of the bastards in here for you, so enough self-loathing.”

Your cheeks squish as he pressed his palms against them, forcing your head to nod as you went limp.

“Good.” He smiled, grinning at how you seemed to wait for his next response.

You let him let go, even though you wanted to stay in that position of safety for longer.

He ruffled your hair back in place, fixing the few scraggled strands that he could. Ezra talked while fetching a paper towel to clean the goo beneath your eyes, originally from your tears.

“I mean, honestly, do you think I wouldn’t kill the bastards in here if they tried to look at you wrong? Come on, no way I would let that slide.”

You smiled at hearing that, thinking he was just being dramatic.

Paper towel in hand, Ezra lifted you up from the ground slightly. He put you down on the sink counter, keeping his hands planted to the sides of your abdomen.

Letting out a low laugh, he continues to wipe away at your eyes. His demeanor shifted to be quieter; something you aren't used to from your blab of a boyfriend.

Dark hair covers to his eyelids, sticking to his skin as the heat from the bathroom has begun to her to him.

The humming of the bathroom fan is all that fills the room for a few moments, Ezra’s concentration on your eyes leaving you both quiet. Though, you could tell he still had something he wanted to say.

"I mean, you don't understand how many times I've had the urge to mutilate the men in this club for staring at you, just from tonight alone" he licked his lips, curling his unmoving hand beside you. He seemed to be… nervous. "I'd pull their teeth out first, working my way down. Tearing each fingernail off one by one, pulling the veins from their wrists… I'd remove anything they have to witness you with."

He looked back up at you, staring within your eyes as if he was lost in them, as if he was looking inside of you. Despite his tender look that seemed to crave your cooperation, that should have made you blush– your smile fell. The warmth once spreading in your chest was now going cold, sinking to your stomach.

"You captivated the whole room, and I can't stand it…" he didn't seem to notice your fallen expression, or the shaking in your hands on the counter. "I hate the way they can hear your laugh, sit beside you and feel your warmth… how you can smile at them and let them make you feel as if you aren't the best thing to ever walk into this club. I hate it so fucking much."

Your boyfriend trailed his finger down the sequins on your clothes, trying to hold himself back from getting too close.

You shifted uncomfortably as your he leaned up close to your mouth, just far away enough to where he couldn't indulge in how badly he wanted to kiss you. There was this suffocating desire inside his chest to paint his claim violently upon your body in this bathroom right now, to let you walk put of this club with everyone staring at the little pieces of him only, forcing them all to know who you really belong to.

You didn't know what to say to his confession…. Should you thank him? Run away? Beg him to go to therapy?

Instead you stayed quiet, searching for the right words to not tick him off, now that you knew what he was potentially…. Capable of.

"They want to hurt you, to use you and then throw you away like some brainless sex doll. They only have bad intentions, baby."

Your boyfriend slid down to your knees, crouching down as you sat on the counter above him. He pulled your left leg toward him gently, kissing up from your ankle, to your shin, to your knee.

"But i'll take care of you, I won't let you be tricked.."He looks up at you with fluttering lashes, raising your leg ever so slightly to press his lips against your inner thigh.

"You know how much I adore you… right?"

Your skimpy clothes gave him even more access than you felt comfortable with, seeing the adoration pulsate within his eyes and the desperation in his hands.

"Of course," you reply, hesitantly bringing a hand up to his cheek, hoping he wasn't thinking of murdering you too in this bathroom.

His warm, damp hands molded the flesh of your bare thighs in his fingers, pushing in between the tight layer of where your tiny shorts and your skin meet, trying to dig beneath them. He wanted to hold all of you, to keep you in his arms so you couldn't even think of leaving, of running to someone else.

"You know that I'd never hurt you… that I only want what's best for you… that I'd kill for you--…" he mumbles the last bit, pressing your hand deeper against his cheek as he looks up from below at you, giving a cheeky grin.

You nod your head, hoping his homicidal thoughts were just that-- thoughts.

He was quick to fool you again with that sweet, lovely smile that seemed to bask in your presence, the smile that made you feel like the most desirable person in the world. No matter how many threats he gave out they never seemed to deter the fact that his soft, adoring expression made you feel like he'd choose you in a room full of thousands.

Your small assurance gave him the confidence to press his head further between your legs, running kisses back up from your knee to your thigh.

He trailed up your skin, kisses growing hungry. Pulling your sequined shorts, your boyfriend buried his head between your thighs– trying to get where he knows he'll have full control over you.

"Not here," you said breathlessly and bewildered, trying to push away his head. "We can't do that here–!"

His hair was soft, even with the thin spread of gel that kept it in place as you ran your hands down to his neck. Tugging at tufts of his hair and using your legs to push him away, you found little to nothing dispirited him.

"Just let me show how much I love you..."

Each time you tried to use your knee to push him, Ezra pushed it against the sink countertop with the heavy weight of his hand. He looked up at you with a sick grin that meant: “just try and beat me.” A part of you felt panicked, not just from the compromising position-- but from how insistent he was. Like he was trying to prove something to you.

It wasn't until the echo of the bathroom door swinging open and hitting the wall, did he lift his head. His eyes went wide, jaw clenching as he whipped around to look. The fearful expression would've been funny if you weren't just as scared.

You quickly jumped off the counter and pulled your shorts back into position, watching to see someone peak around from the corner. But the sounds of drunken laughter faded away, and no one made themselves apparent.

You and Ezra sighed simultaneously, the heat from the stuffy bathroom showing to have been too much for the both of you.

He reached for your hand, pulling you towards him. Ezra goes quiet, and you keep your gaze to the ground. He had shown sides of himself tonight that you weren’t exactly sure how to process.

“Lets just go home, okay?” Ezra says after a few moments, whispering with a grin.“I wanna finish what we started.”

What were you to say? You stuttered, thinking to protest, to run away or maybe even admit how afraid you were.

But with a kiss to your sweaty forehead, your boyfriend slung his arm over your shoulder and began leading you to the exit of the bathroom.

Your feet had moved on your own, your mouth still lingering to form words. As Ezra opened the door, the stench of alcohol and cheap perfume hit you once again.

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meadowfics · 24 days ago

Text

brothers

father!husband!kang dae ho x f!wife!mother!f!reader

this is apart of my 'kang family' series.

warnings: a visitor accidentally brings up traumatic memories. angst. throwback to the squid games. sibling arguments.

read 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑡 and 𝑓𝑢𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙𝑠 for more context on this chapter

you sat on the living room rug with byeol resting in your arms, her tiny head tucked against your chest while her lavender onesie made her look even softer than usual. the baby's fingers played lightly with the strap of your top, and you sighed knowing what she wants, brushing your hand down her back gently.

a few feet away, seo-ah was on the couch with her favorite turtle stuffed animal in her lap, eyebrows scrunched as she watched one of her little shows…but not before you muted the tv to get her attention.

"baby, do you remember what i told you earlier?" you asked softly.

she looked over at you, curious, "about what?"

you smiled, tucking a loose hair behind your ear, "you're going to meet someone special today. remember? your uncle."

seo-ah tilted her head, clearly confused.

"my uncle?" she repeated, "but i only have aunties. from appa's side!"

your heart stung just a little. seo-ah didn’t know the truth about your sister, not yet. she only knew that you had one, and that she "lived far away," so she could never meet her. now here you were, preparing to introduce her to your half-brother…someone she never knew existed until this morning.

"i know, baby but uncle ezra is from omma's side," you said gently, rubbing circles into byeol’s back.

"and you know what? i just found out about him too."

"you didn’t know you had a brother?" she blinked.

you chuckled, her little puzzled expression making you smile, "i didn’t. not until recently. but i’m really happy i know now."

"he’s coming today?" seo-ah asked, voice lifting with excitement.

"is he nice?"

you grinned, "he is silly. i think you’ll like him a lot."

just then, the front door opened. you turned your head toward the sound of the key twisting and the familiar creak of the hinges. footsteps followed, two sets…and then laughter.

"hyung, you never told me your wife was so forgetful," came ezra’s voice, teasing and full of warmth.

"yah, don’t start!" daeho’s familiar laugh echoed through the house as they walked in, shoes clicking against the floor before their presence filled the room.

"i forgot one tiny detail!" you shot back with a grin as they entered the living room.

you knew that they were talking about the fact that you forgot to talk about dae-ho’s marine background to ezra. dae-ho’s arm sleeve was lifted up on his left arm… so you assume that your husband just showed him that in the car or something.

ezra stepped forward, dragging his suitcase behind him before letting go and kicking it gently to the side. your brother’s eyes immediately landed on you, and then trailed down to the sleepy bundle in your arms. his mouth opened a little in awe.

"wow," he breathed.

"that must be…"

"this is byeol," you confirmed softly.

"she’s six months now."

ezra’s gaze softened, heart clearly hit by the sight of the little baby in your arms.

"she looks just like you," he whispered, and then his eyes shifted to the girl standing by your leg, holding your black sweatpants like her life depended on it.

"and this…" you began, brushing your fingers through seo-ah’s hair, "this is your other niece, seo-ah. she’s turning five soon."

ezra crouched down, lowering himself to eye level. he smiled gently, arms resting on his knees as he leaned in just a little.

"hi, seo-ah," he said kindly.

"i’m ezra. i’m your omma’s little brother… which makes me your uncle."

seo-ah blinked up at him for a few seconds, then slowly returned the smile after seeing your features in ezra, even if shyly.

"hi," she said. her hand gripped your leg a little tighter, but her eyes were wide with curiosity.

"i brought you something," ezra added, reaching into the pocket of his jacket and pulling out a small gift…a keychain with a tiny turtle in a soccer uniform. it was silly and cute, clearly a quick airport souvenir, but the way seo-ah’s eyes lit up… priceless.

"he plays soccer like me!" she gasped.

"that’s what your omma told me," ezra said with a wink.

"thought you might like it."

“what do you say, seo-ah?” dae-ho smiled at the sight, leaning on the living room entrance.

"thank you," she whispered, stepping forward to take it from his hand.

you watched the moment unfold with something tender stirring deep in your chest. your half-brother. your daughters. a connection you never thought you’d get to see in this lifetime.

ezra stood again, glancing between you and daeho.

"this is wild," he murmured, "i have nieces."

daeho, who’d been quietly admiring the exchange, clapped a hand on ezra’s back.

"welcome to the family," he said.

you swallowed the sudden lump in your throat and smiled, your eyes stinging a little.

later, you and daeho allowed ezra to settle into the guest room that he’d be staying in for the next few weeks.

you had fresh sheets already laid out, a basket of towels at the foot of the bed, and a folded note sitting on the nightstand welcoming him to your home…a little something you wrote while feeding byeol that morning.

you figured he might want to explore seoul while he’s here, especially with his photography class back at university. you already planned to take him into the city, maybe give him some of your favorite spots to shoot… quiet streets in ikseon-dong, rooftops over mangwon market, parties in hongdae.. maybe even han river at night. whatever he was comfortable with. you’d give him his own space too as well as an older sister.

you hadn’t been around ezra for long, but little things were starting to settle into place, like puzzle pieces you didn’t realize were missing.

there were bits of your late sister in him. expressions, tones of voice, the way he furrowed his brows when he was thinking hard about something. it caught you off guard sometimes, how the past quietly slipped into the present like that.

in a way, it was comforting.

in another, it hurt.

the living room was calm this late afternoon, a soft lull of voices on the tv in front of you as you curled up beside daeho on one side of the sectional couch.

on the other side sat ezra, in his hoodie and loose sweats, looking more and more comfortable by the minute as he watched tv with your daughters.

seo-ah, already completely smitten, had claimed his right arm, her head resting against it as she quietly chewed on a cracker. byeol was curled up in his left, her tiny form nestled against his chest like she’d always belonged there.

ezra didn’t look uncomfortable, he looked content. your brother’s head tilted slightly as he smiled down at the girls, lips twitching in amusement every time seo-ah said something weird or when byeol wiggled her socked foot.

it was a sight you never imagined witnessing but it was real.

you leaned a little against daeho’s shoulder, your voice breaking the soft quiet.

"so, ezra… what’s your major again?"

he looked up at you and smiled, his hand gently rubbing circles into byeol’s back.

"creative arts. mostly photography, but i dabble. i’ve taken a few theatre electives, some acting. ceramics too. i like to try everything."

you blinked. your lips parted just slightly.

of course he took those classes.

you tried to ignore the warmth rising to your eyes, the ache that pressed against your chest like a familiar weight. you weren’t just reminded of yourself…how you used to sneak away from your mother’s rage to go paint art at school, or the way you’d take photos of street murals on your walk home…but you were reminded of mi.

your sister had once dreamed of becoming a costume designer for stage. she adored theatre. she used to build cardboard set pieces in your shared room, drawing all over them with colorful markers. your mother destroyed them sometimes, but mi painted and painted when she could afford to. she sang loudly in the bathroom even when your mom would yell at her to stop. she was the only person who truly loved the arts the way you did…until now.

you looked at ezra too long, too soft.

he noticed.

"yo, why are you looking at me like that?" he chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

you pressed your lips together, and the answer caught in your throat for a moment before slipping free.

"mi used to do the same things you do," you whispered.

your smile was there, but it trembled.

ezra sighed gently, gaze falling toward the floor for a second before lifting again. he looked at you, really looked.

"oh," he said. ezra is not confused. just… aware.

after, he nodded slowly, almost like he needed time to sit with it.

"it’s good to know," he said quietly, "that i was always a little like my sisters."

you swallowed, unable to speak for a second. your throat burned with something that wasn’t quite grief but wasn’t far from it. it was the ache of missing someone, paired with the wonder of finding something that still remained.

the next day, the house was quiet in a soft, golden way that only late afternoons in early spring could bring. the sun poured in through the windows, casting long beams of warmth across the wooden floors and the cozy furniture.

ezra gently pulled the door shut to byeol’s nursery after laying her down. the babygirl’s tiny hand had clutched his hoodie for a moment before letting go, her thumb drifting back to her mouth as she drifted off.

he stayed for a second longer, just to watch her breathe.

the guy sighed to himself once he stepped back into the hallway. being around kids wasn't unfamiliar…he’d babysat cousins before…but this? watching his niece nap peacefully in her baby blue onesie while the sound of distant birds bled in through the windows… this was new.

as he padded back toward the living room, he found seo-ah already sitting cross-legged on the carpet in front of the couch, an empty juice box beside her and her hands tucked behind her back. she looked up at him, her long lashes blinking slowly.

"uncle ezra," she said suddenly, tilting her head.

he smiled, moving to sit beside her, "yeah, seo?"

she lit up, "do you know what ddakji is?"

"ddakji?" he repeated, eyebrows furrowed.

"hmm... doesn't ring a bell. is it like hopscotch?"

she frowned.

"no! it’s a game! my friends at daycare showed me. you don’t know it?"

he chuckled, running a hand through his thick hair, "nope. i guess I missed out on some of the good stuff growing up."

without another word, seo-ah hopped up and ran out of the room, her little feet pattering against the floor.

"hold on!" she shouted from the hallway, voice echoing slightly.

ezra leaned back against the couch, stretching his legs out just as she came barreling back in, her daycare bookbag swinging off one shoulder and a determined glint in her eye.

she dropped down to the floor with all the confidence of a child on a mission and pulled out two square-shaped envelopes…one red, one blue.

"these!" she exclaimed, holding them up proudly.

"my friend in class said i could keep these. you throw them on the ground really hard to try to flip the other one over. if it flips, you win. if it doesn’t… you lose."

ezra took the blue one she offered him and studied it. the paper was folded meticulously…clearly, her teacher or one of the daycare helpers had helped her make them. it was surprisingly sturdy, layered just enough to hold its shape.

"so it’s like a flip battle?" he asked, intrigued.

"yeah!" seo-ah nodded, her hair bouncing with her.

"you wanna play?"

"absolutely," he grinned, shifting into a sitting position with a mock serious face.

"but I gotta warn you, I'm very competitive."

"me too! i get it from auntie jia," she squealed.

they set up a little play area in the center of the rug, placing the red square flat on the floor. ezra watched as she stood up dramatically, raised the blue square, and slammed it down.

it didn’t flip.

"ugh," she groaned, plopping down.

"your turn!"

ezra raised his eyebrows, gave a theatrical stretch, and then tossed the blue one with a little more force. it barely flipped the red one halfway.

they stared.

"we stink at this," he muttered, laughing.

"nuh uh!" she said, already snatching the red one back and setting it down again.

"you go again!"

they played like that for a while… ezra always making sure his throw was just a little too soft or just a little off-target. every time seo-ah managed to flip the square, he would gasp and throw his hands up dramatically.

"nooo! how are you so good at this?!" he shouted, falling backward onto the rug.

seo-ah beamed with pride, lifting her arms like a champion, "i told you i’m competitive!"

he looked at her from where he laid sprawled out, laughter still bubbling in his chest.

“remind me not to go against you in anything serious.”

she scooted closer, resting her chin on his arm, the game forgotten for now.

"uncle ezra?"

"yeah?"

"can you stay forever?"

ezra’s heart tugged. he looked at her, that small face with the same eyes he saw in the mirror sometimes…his father’s eyes, your eyes. seo-ah is daeho’s twin but she has your facial expressions and tones.

"i can't stay forever," he said softly, brushing her hair out of her face, "but i’ll visit. a lot. and you can call me anytime, okay?"

she pouted for a second but nodded.

"okay. promise?"

"promise."

he held out his pinky.

she linked hers with his.

in the evening, ezra was sprawled comfortably on the couch, one leg tucked under the other as he half-watched a thriller series flicker across the tv screen. the living room had that peaceful midafternoon stillness to it…sun filtering in through the windows, the faint sound of birds outside, and a quiet that told him both girls were sound asleep.

he glanced toward the hallway again, still amazed at how calm things were with two kids in the house.

ezra turned when he heard the front door open and close.

“we’re back,” you called, your voice cheerful as you carried a few grocery bags into the kitchen, followed by daeho, who held the rest.

ezra sat up straighter.

“how was it?”

you glanced toward the hallway.

“not too bad… they okay?”

“totally calm,” ezra said with a small smile.

“byeol went down pretty easy. seo-ah took a nap like a pro.”

from the kitchen, daeho asked something in korean, and you nodded, looking toward your brother.

“ezra, you wanna try some kimchi jjigae tonight? daeho’s making his mom’s recipe.”

“for sure,” ezra nodded.

“sounds good.”

he hesitated for a second before adding, “hey, daeho…do you think maybe you could teach me some korean while I’m here?”

you raised a brow, smirking as you took out the vegetables and placed them on the counter.

“what, and not me?”

ezra laughed.

“you’re too mean. you’d quiz me the second day.”

“she would,” daeho added in english, smirking as he leaned against the counter.

“but it’s okay. ezra wants to learn from his hyung now… huh?”

you rolled your eyes as you grabbed a cutting board and began prepping dinner, lips curled with affection.

“ridiculous.”

“nah, for real,” ezra said, shifting to sit more upright.

“I wanna learn. especially now that I’ve met family here.”

you smiled softly, touched.

ezra added, a little lighter, “also…seo-ah introduced me to this korean game today, and I wanted to see if you guys wanted to play a round before dinner? in the living room or something?”

you paused with the knife halfway down the carrot, and something inside you stirred.

seo-ah loves her little games and you hope she didn’t set ezra up to a complicated one.

“what game?” you asked, already bracing.

ezra shrugged casually, reaching for his phone.

“uh… ddakji? those folded envelope square things? she had them in her daycare bag.”

the sound of that word ddakji dropped into the room like a pin pulled from a grenade.

you froze, fingertips pressing into the countertop. your eyes didn’t move from the carrot, but your breath did. it stalled. beside you, you could sense it…daeho’s shoulders tensing slightly, his hand gripping the grocery bag a second longer than he needed to before setting it down. daeho’s jaw moved like he was about to say something, but he didn’t.

ezra sat upright on the couch now, confused.

“i—it’s a kids’ game, right?” he asked, looking between you both.

“did i do something wrong?”

you blinked quickly, shaking your head.

“no. no, ezra. it’s fine. you didn’t do anything wrong.”

your voice was soft, careful… too careful.

“really?” he asked again, this time looking at daeho.

“it just felt like the mood changed.”

“you’re fine,” daeho added, but his voice lacked its usual steadiness.

“seriously.”

ezra didn’t say anything for a few moments. the tv murmured in the background, the sounds of car horns and distant explosions clashing against the sudden silence in the room.

you cleared your throat and resumed slicing the carrots.

ezra sat back slowly, guilt already washing over him.

dinner was calm surprisingly so. ezra was laughing, praising the kimchi jjigae like it was the best meal he'd ever had, and you and daeho leaned into that warmth, letting the normalcy coat over the tension from earlier.

the girls giggled through their bites of rice, byeol in her high chair slapping her messy hands against her tray while seo-ah talked about her day at daycare like she was presenting news to the nation.

after the dishes were done, and the girls were finally tucked into bed…byeol sleeping soundly with her bunny and seo-ah clutching her new turtle stuffed animal. you, daeho, and ezra settled on the sectional for a movie. the screen glowed with soft colors, some drama-comedy playing on low volume while the three of you sank into the cushions with full stomachs and tired limbs.

ezra cleared his throat.

you glanced over.

he hesitated.

“can i ask something?”

you nodded slowly.

“you don’t have to ask if you can ask something, just ask me.”

you gave a light smile to your younger brother.

he turned the volume down slightly and looked at you directly.

“earlier. when I mentioned ddakji… it felt like I said something wrong.”

you straightened a little.

“it’s not—”

“you and daeho both went really quiet,” he said gently, but his brows were drawn in concern.

“i’m not trying to poke at something if it's private. i just… i’m confused. i know you’ve said you and daeho have been through a lot, but how does a kid’s game factor into that?”

your hand stilled against the couch blanket.

“ezra,” you said, voice tight, “i really don’t want to get into that.”

“but…”

“it’s complicated.”

“but you said I was family now,” he replied, eyes narrowing just a little.

“you’ve told me how much you’ve been through and i’ve tried not to ask for more than what you’ve offered me but today just… it confused me. i played a game with my niece, and suddenly it felt like I did something awful.”

you pressed your lips together, jaw locking slightly.

“you didn’t. it’s not about you.”

“then help me understand why it hurt you.”

ezra’s voice was soft, but firm. he wasn’t angry, just hurt. its clear that he is frustrated at being on the outside of something that obviously shaped you. something that shaped both you and daeho.

“it’s just a game to you,” you said.

“but to me and daeho… it was more. it was…” you exhaled, “it was the beginning of something we can’t talk about.”

ezra looked between you and daeho, brows pinched.

“i don’t get it.”

something about that simple phrase, “i don’t get it,” set something small and sharp off inside of you. a thing you haven’t felt since you used to argue with your older sister.

“you weren’t there, ezra,” you snapped, voice cracking as it rose.

“you don’t know what it’s like to live in a country that wasn’t yours, to grow up with nothing, to have the weight of your dead family’s debt crushing you every single second of your waking life. so no, you don’t get it.”

his eyes widened slightly.

“i didn’t say I did???”

“then stop pushing—”

“alright,” daeho’s voice cut in, low and firm, not angry, but commanding enough to silence the air.

“that’s enough.”

your voice caught in your throat. ezra blinked hard and turned his eyes to the screen.

daeho leaned forward, hands clasped, looking between the both of you.

“he didn’t mean harm,” he said gently, first to you.

“and you didn’t say anything wrong either,” he added to ezra.

“but let me help.”

he paused. the silence was thick.

“a long time ago,” daeho started, his voice a soft baritone in the quiet room, “we were poor and struggling really badly. we had no savings. we were both crushed by debt that wasn’t even ours with jobs that barely covered rent. there were days where we barely had enough for one meal.”

you turned your head slightly, feeling the ache behind your eyes.

“and we were alone. the world didn’t look the same to us back then since everything felt impossible.” he looked at ezra.

“and one day… a man in a suit offered us a chance to change things.”

the image flickered back with the hospital doors sliding shut behind you.

your hand resting protectively over your small but growing bump before a voice, smooth and too kind, asked if you wanted to play a game.

you remember the red and blue squares in his hands and you remember flipping one, hard, sending the other scattering across the pavement.

you won at the end but at what cost?

back in the present, daeho said, “it was ddakji.”

ezra’s mouth parted. he didn’t speak.

“that is all i can say but yeah,” daeho added, “it’s a game to most people but to us it was the beginning of everything that came after. it’s not your fault, ezra but it brings back a lot.”

you felt your chest tighten, guilt sinking in fast.

ezra’s face softened.

“i’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“i didn’t mean to push. i just wanted to understand.”

“i know,” you whispered.

“and it’s okay.”

a silence fell again, this time more understanding than awkward.

ezra leaned back into the couch, exhaling.

“i’m just glad you don’t have to live like that anymore.”

you looked at him, your little brother who had somehow grown into a man with kind eyes and open hands.

“me too,” you said, “and i’m glad you’ll never have to go through what we did.”

kang family masterlist here

#kang dae ho x reader #kang dae ho #player 388 #player 388 x reader #player 388 x you #dae ho #kang daeho #dae ho x reader #dae ho squid game #squid game fanfic #squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game s2 #squid game x reader #squid game x y/n #kang family series by meadowfics #squid game x you #squid game s3 #squid game season 3

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better-call-mau1 · 2 years ago

Text

“What the kriff is going on?! Stop that! Get away from me!”

“Ew, it’s so…colorful in here. Repulsively so. Well, it was either you or the paraplegic Zabrak, and I certainly didn’t want to see the scrambled mess sloshing around the inside of his skull.”

“Get out! Out! Out! Out! I don’t need your creepy voice in my head! Go possess a womp-rat and jump into a—”

“Silence, you blaster-toting bimbo! You decided to shoot at an undead spirit instead of run away! It’s your own fault that I’ve appropriated your corporeality!”

“What about me trying to kill you makes me a bimbo?! I was trying to protect my friend!”

“Whatever. Good thing I have no use for your brain anyway.”

“My brain is just fine! I’ll have you know that I made Commandant’s List every single semester as a student at the Imperial Acad—”

“Blah blah blah blah blah. Now…is there anything in your memories that’s remotely useful? Let’s see here…hmmmm…color palettes…paint blends…chemical formulas for explosive compounds…adolescent trauma…starship schematics…more explosives…plenty of mommy issues…oh…? Ooohhh…how curious! What do we have here?”

“Nope! Stop that! Get out! That’s very private! Don’t look in there!”

“Unresolved romantic tension? With the pretty Jedi boy? Splendid! You should have come to Dathomir sooner, Mandalorian wench!”

“I don’t have any romantic tension with Ezra! Zero tension! None whatsoever! We’re as tense as…uhhhh…a really loose cable…or something…? And I’m not a wench!!”

“If I flew through a canyon with a Jedi boy in such provocative and perverse fashion, Mother Talzin would have grounded me for an entire cycle. From your own memories, it all looks rather wenchy to me. Unless you do have feelings for him…”

“I don’t! What else was I supposed to do there? Drop him in the river?”

“And throw away such a majestic specimen of virile masculinity? Of course not! But you could have held him in any other position than the one you did. Fortunately for you, you were wearing your helmet and being shot at. Otherwise he would have seen how fiercely you were blushing. Or sensed your—”

“NOPE!”

“You’re quite amusing, I must admit. Feel free to offer commentary while you help me rebuild the great clan of the Nightsisters with the pretty Jedi boy!”

“Rebuild? With weird spirit magick, right?”

“…”

“REBUILD WITH WEIRD SPIRIT MAGICK, RIGHT?!”

“Fear not, Mandalorian wench. Your tension with the dashing Jedi will be resolved shortly.”

Rebels Rewatch: "Visions And Voices"

Maul returns to be a menace and freak both me and Ezra out.

Obligatory "I've already done a live reaction version of this episode" link.

From the very beginning, with just the washed out dingy lighting and the whooshing wind sound effect, this episode already feels unsettling. The atmospheric touches here with the storm and lightning and the camera movement and shot choice once things start happening evoke a horror movie.

The way they have Hera's voice fading out and going watery every time Maul calls to Ezra, the way Ezra keeps squinting and blinking and the tiny headshake he gives like he's trying to shake off some fatigue or jerk himself alert, make himself stop seeing things...

He looks so frightened. :(

COURSE I DON'T BLAME HIM WITH THE APPARITION OF MAUL LOOKING LIKE THIS.

Kanan and Zeb both trying to shake him awake after he faints. <3

I mentioned in my original liveblog but this episode gives me major Teen Titans 2003 "Haunted" vibes, with the plotline about a character being menaced by an imaginary villain only they can see. Rebels ultimately diverged from that parallel but my mental "If I had a nickel for every time" associations linger.

Something I loved about this episode was just how present everyone was for Ezra, how worried and concerned they were over him. Like here, all the members of the crew, even Chopper, are crowded in Kanan's room waiting for him to wake up.

Subtle animation appreciation moment: How Ezra touches the back of his neck like he's trying to rub out some stiffness or ache.

Oh hang on, did I just stumble across another Kanera-Sabezra mirror?

I DID! :D

Getting a little ahead of myself though, gotta appreciate this moment here with Ezra's fond little smile as Sabine bullies AP-5 about the munitions they're taking.

Also Sabine's "Can you believe this guy?" look lol.

Sabine immediately knows to send Chopper for Kanan. (Oh look, the two of them being the Most Important People in Ezra's life again. :D)

Sabine is very worried and alarmed this whole scene. She knows this isn't like him and oh ouch there are those Teen Titans "Haunted" feels come back to stab me again.

It's not actually clear what Maul was doing with this whole making-Ezra-see-him-everywhere trick--and you know it was deliberate, Ezra wasn't getting anything useful out of his end of the mind bond--but honestly the visions going unexplained are effectively creepy and unsettling enough. Personally I think it was one part to scare Ezra, make him doubt himself and his own mind, make him and everyone else think he was going crazy, and one part to manipulate him into doing something horrible he'd regret so that the Rebels would cast him out and drive him to Maul.

:((((

Hera understandably takes Ezra off the mission in light of events and heads it up herself. There's very soft worried mom energy radiating off her in this scene.

I'm kind of amazed Kanan and Sabine putting a tracker on Ezra without telling him didn't get any rancid takes complaining about how ~cLeArLy tOxIc~ it was. Maybe people actually remembered the part of Ezra's characterization where he tends to impulsively go off half-cocked to save people and figured, "Oh, Kanan's taking some obvious precautions in case he does that." Or maybe they decided given two previous kidnapping attempts Kanan was allowed a little paranoia over his kid.

Aaaaaaand this is the first we've heard Ezra's theme in a while.

(Note: Sabine has already painted one of Ezra's new Scout Trooper helmets, which he decides to wear to see Bendu. Even though the last time they rode the speeder into the Bendu's hollow he didn't bother wearing a helmet at all. Upgraded your comfort item/security blanket metaphor there, Ezra, eh?)

Full on horror strings here as we pan up to Maul just chilling like a creeper at the top of the hollow.

The way Ezra almost steps between Maul and Kanan. <3

Something I loved this episode was Ezra consistently rejecting Maul's attempts to touch him, smacking or shoving his hand off his shoulder, deliberately stepping away and keeping a distance.

Since a straightforward request was denied, Maul resorts to blackmail, threatening to broadcast the location of the base to the Empire and oof, Ezra's face.

Maul then dangles the "key to defeating the Sith" carrot in front of them, which activates Ezra's Hero Complex and hyper-responsibility and is what makes him agree to go. See, Maul is his responsibility, it's his fault Maul is even after them in the first place, so Ezra feels a sense of obligation to take care of him as a personal problem.

Love how Kanan says Phoenix Squadron will just wholecloth pack up and move to a new base in order to keep Ezra safe. I don't think it works like that Kanan, lol, but the spirit is appreciated.

Ezra's awfully confident that Maul won't hurt him and, ngl, that is not a risk I would have taken. But Kanan decides to trust Ezra and so the snippet of Ezra's theme that's been playing (marking his gesture of self-sacrifice) gives way to the same cue that played when Vader was descending on top of the TIE Advanced in "Twilight of the Apprentice", kind of an auditory callback to Malachor and the start of this whole arc.

Sabine's already getting the Phantom II prepped. <3

Dathomir looks appropriately hellish. Twisted gnarled trees, barren rocks, broken architecture, drenched in deep red with fog obscuring the horizon.

It's subtle at first and grows more obvious as the episode carries on but Maul is a little bit, ah... bipolar in his actions and displays of emotion here. He oscillates between speaking calmly, growling in frustration, outright snapping at Ezra sometimes, cackling to himself randomly, and of course dropping his voice down into that soft, vulnerable cadence that's his go-to whenever he wants to garner and play to Ezra's sympathies. Ezra takes his erratic behavior in stride, for the most part, doesn't flinch or comment on Maul's mood swings.

Really do love the environment work Rebels does. <3

Ezra flippantly dismissing Maul's murder hoard as "junk" lol.

"Fun" easter egg to note: The scrawled Mand'oa on the wall spells KENOBI.

Aaaaaaand our introduction of the plot device that is the darksaber, displayed prominently under a cubist painting of Satine, whose theme plays as Ezra examines the darksaber. This reference is pure fanservice for TCW fans. It basically means nothing to me emotionally, I was never a fan of Satine or her romance with Obi-Wan, so mostly I just feel offended and creeped out on her behalf that a painting of her got hauled to Maul's murder cave and defaced.

(Interesting to note that the slashes of... paint?... blood?... stuff crosses out Satine's eyes and cuts her throat. Is Maul reveling in his murder of her, trying to relive it by destroying her image? Did he stub out her eyes to stop her from "staring" at him? Who knows.)

Okay I lied, Ezra flinches precisely once, right after Maul yells at him not to touch the darksaber.

I like to think it was possibly calling out to him, the kyber crystal inside a natural siren song to Force wielders, and that's how Ezra knows it's some kind of lightsaber and not just a weird stick.

Love the drums in this music cue. It's got some exotic-sounding eastern instruments in it too, I think I might hear a bit of didgeridoo?

Subtle animation appreciation moment: How Ezra screws up his face in preparation to down the potion, it obviously doesn't smell or taste very good lol.

The music turns frantic and rushing when we cut the Sabine and Kanan landing out, like it's telling them to hurry. More exotic instruments, some kind of tinny percussion, cymbals maybe?

Right, so this episode was clearly another Halloween special right? Has all the perfect trappings of one lol.

Maul strays into Dangerously Genre Savvy here; he never intended to pay for using the Nightsisters' magick himself and his dialogue to Ezra seems to indicate he didn't intend to sacrifice Ezra to them either. So his plan was either to evade the spirit witches long enough to get away scott free, or he was counting on other members of the Spectres to come after Ezra trying to save him.

Either way, it leads to one of the creepiest scenes in the show.

Subtle animation appreciation moment: The bewildered way Kanan's head jerks around right before the Nightsister spirit possesses him, like he can tell that something freaky is there but he can't tell what or where.

The unnatural character movement the animators use for Possessed!Kanan and Possessed!Sabine is really good; they're limp like puppets for a bit before the spirits take full control, and even afterwards move in jerky, inhuman motions.

And thus a half-dozens angst!fics were written lol. (And still not nearly enough.)

Ngl, Maul technically does show Ezra how to save his friends buuuuut he gets no points for that since he clearly thought Ezra would just write them off and come with him.

I'm still amazed he didn't just kidnap him right there. Kenobi obsession too strong I guess.

Other people have already pointed out the irony of Maul screaming at Ezra to forget the past and his attachments while himself being obsessed with the past and clearly trying to use Ezra as a Replacement Goldfish for Savage but I'll mention that anyway.

You know, the Fridge Horror of this episode is really unsettling. I know at least one fanficcer and @better-call-mau1 have asked the question of how, exactly, does possessing Kanan and Sabine allow the Nightsisters to rebuild their clan? They're either going to use Kanan and Sabine to perform some kind of freaky necromancy ritual, use them to lure other Rebels in (seems like it'd have limited effectiveness, eventually Rebel Command would decide retrieval isn't worth it), or they would rebuild the clan using more... ah... conventional means.

Add that unsettling thought to how possessed Sabine seems to stalk Ezra, specifically, while the possessed Kanan returns to the altar and fkhkhffjhjhgggfgjjjj--

Yeah.

"That doesn't belong to you!" "Then take it from me, Jedi!" Are they talking about the darksaber or Sabine's body?

...Yes.

This music cue is amazing. Possessed Sabine scrabbling on the ground like a feral animal while Ezra just calmly Force Pushes her out of the threshold is excellently staged.

Well that's a heart eyes expression if I ever saw one lol.

Sometimes I like to listen to different language tracks for specific dramatic parts of shows or movies, to see how other actors do it, compare performance notes and kjsahfkajshfkajh one of the Chinese Nightsister-possessed Kanans was one of the most horrifying scary things I've ever heard.

This scene is just heartwrenching. A lot of this episode was spoiled in the trailers so this maybe didn't have as much dramatic impact as it should have had at the time but I still found it pretty gut-punching. A little short, maybe. That's about it.

This is one of Ezra's finer moments, frankly, outsmarting and defeating the Nightsister spirits. You really feel the care he has for Kanan. Love it. <3

From the moment Ezra said that the answer to destroying the Sith was "Obi-Wan Kenobi" I think I knew it was a false flag and what Maul had manipulated him to see. Because, obviously, they key is Luke.

Interesting how Ezra thinks if Obi-Wan doesn't, eventually, fight, that the Sith can't be stopped. He's pinning a lot of hopes on a man who doesn't, ultimately, wind up being the narrative Chosen One who accomplishes that task. Again, more on that later in "Twin Suns".

Ezra seems to pay Sabine a glance as he passes, aww.

*PORTENTS OF CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT*

This episode is one of my favorites, and the "Haunted" mental connections are only one of the reasons why. It's got great dialogue, creepy suspense, adorable subtle Sabezra moments, furthering of Maul's slow mental degradation and descent into full ruin, and Ezra gets to be amazingly self-sacrificing, brave, and awesome in it. What's not to love?