#granted this is an idea i've been sitting on for a very VERY long time

[queen-scribbles]

lmao I mention wanting to write Endrali a bday fic and guess who starts chatting away? xD (Never mind her bday isn't for another month, apparently we're doing this now)

[natsaffection]

heyyy so i have this idea and i think no one can write it like you so yeah.

forced marriage between Natasha and reader in the present time. they both don't like each other because of this situation yk but with time they come around each other.

i know this is a really classic one but I've been thinking about this for a long time and sending a request to you seemed like a good idea considering your beautiful writing. but of course it's okay if you don't want to write it! hope you're having a good day!!! (or night idk😭😭) 💗

I see you. | N.R

Warnings: Forced Marriage for a Mission, a lot of arguments, Drinking, mentioned of sex while beeing drunk (both)

Word count: 6,7k

A/n: I hope it makes sense. I thought for a long time about how best to implement this scenario and found this solution to be the most plausible..(The beginning takes place before the invasion of Loki)

Natasha sat stiffly, her gaze sharp and unforgiving, fixed on the man sitting across from her. Nick leaned back in his chair, his one good eye studying her with an intensity that matched her own. “So, what’s this about, Fury?” Natasha’s voice was as cold as the steel walls surrounding them in the underground briefing room of the Avengers headquarters. She had been urgently summoned, pulled out of a mission briefing that had been weeks in the making, and the weight of this interruption hung heavy in the air.

Fury exhaled slowly, his fingers drumming on the edge of the sleek metal table. The silence stretched just long enough that Natasha’s patience nearly snapped. “It’s about alliances.” he finally said, his tone measured, as if he was still deciding how much to reveal. Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “I thought we had our alliances sorted out. Stark has the tech, Banner is working on the gamma projects, and I’m ready to handle the intel with Rogers. What’s missing?”

Fury’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he leaned forward, his hands tightly clasped together as if preparing for what he was about to say. “What’s missing is political stability. The kind that can’t be bought with technology or power. We need trust, and that’s in short supply these days.”

“Trust?” Natasha scoffed. “From whom? What aren’t you telling me?” He met her gaze, unwavering. “There’s a situation with Y/n.”

Natasha’s brow furrowed slightly. The name struck a nerve. You were no stranger in her world. Known for your diplomatic skills and sharp intellect, you were a key figure in international negotiations, often brokering deals that kept the world from chaos. You weren’t just a diplomat, you were a force, wielding influence in ways even Natasha respected. But that didn’t explain why you were the subject of this mysterious meeting.

“And what does that have to do with us?” Natasha asked, her voice low and laced with suspicion. Fury’s next words fell like a hammer. “You’re going to marry her.” For a moment, the words didn’t register. Natasha stared at Fury, waiting for the punchline to a joke that never came. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me right, Romanoff." Fury replied, his tone unyielding. “This marriage is the only way to secure the alliance we need. Your influence can grant us access to certain..resources and information that we desperately need. This goes beyond SHIELD, it’s about global security.”

Natasha leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “And you think a forced marriage is magically going to solve all these problems?”

“I’m not saying it’ll be easy.” Fury admitted. “But this isn’t about love or personal happiness. It’s about necessity. We need a visible, undeniable alliance, something that other nations and organizations can see and recognize as a commitment. A marriage between you and Y/L/N would achieve that.”

Natasha’s jaw tightened. She was a soldier, a spy, a warrior..she had never allowed anyone to dictate the terms of her life, let alone something as personal as marriage. The very idea was repugnant to her, and yet..Fury’s expression told her this wasn’t just an idea, it was an order. The stakes were high, as they always were in her line of work, but this felt different. This felt personal in a way she hadn’t expected.

“And what makes you think she’ll agree to this?” Natasha asked, struggling to keep her voice steady. She wasn’t ready to show more emotion than necessary. “She’s already agreed.” Fury said, and Natasha felt the ground shift beneath her feet. “She understands how important this alliance is. She’s as reluctant as you are, but she knows what’s at stake.”

Natasha let that sink in for a moment. She didn’t know you well, but she knew of you, respected you even. You were someone who didn’t back down easily, who saw through lies and acted on your convictions. If you had agreed, then the situation was worse than Natasha had thought.

“And if I refuse?” she asked, though she knew the answer, but she needed to hear it. Fury’s expression hardened. “You won’t refuse. You’re too smart for that, Natasha. You know what’s at stake. You’ve always done what was necessary.”

Natasha exhaled slowly, her mind racing. She didn’t want this, she didn’t want to be tied down by something as archaic as marriage, especially not to someone she barely knew. But Fury was right. She had always done what was necessary, no matter the cost. And this, it seemed, was just another mission, one that would require all her skills to navigate.

“Fine..” she said finally, her voice clipped. “I’ll do it. But don’t expect me to play the happy housewife.” Fury almost smiled, but it was a cold, thin smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Natasha’s mind raced as she left the cold, sterile briefing room. Fury’s words echoed in her ears, a reminder that her life was no longer entirely her own. As she walked through the corridors of the SHIELD headquarters, her footsteps echoed ominously, each step bringing her closer to a fate she hadn’t chosen.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, pulling her out of her thoughts. It was a message from Fury again:

Meeting with Y/N in conference room in five minutes. Be there.

No time to think, no time to prepare. Typical. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself before heading to the designated room. Natasha arrived at the conference room a few minutes early. The room was empty, the lights dimmed, casting long shadows across the table. It felt oddly impersonal, a stark contrast to the gravity of what was about to be discussed. She stood by the window, staring out at the headquarters’ grounds, trying to gather her thoughts.

The door opened behind her, and Natasha turned as you entered the room. You were dressed in a tailored suit, exuding the same sovereign confidence that had made you a respected figure in the diplomatic world. But there was something else in your eyes. A hint of irritation, maybe even anger. Clearly, you weren’t any happier about this situation than she was.

“Natasha.” you greeted her with a curt nod, your voice cool and distant. “Y/n.” Natasha replied just as coolly. She crossed her arms and leaned against the windowsill, her eyes narrowing as she studied the person in front of her. “So, I guess we’re getting married.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “Looks that way. Not that either of us had a choice.” Natasha raised an eyebrow. “And whose fault is that? If you and your people hadn’t been so secretive, we might not be in this mess.” Your face hardened, a flicker of anger crossing your features. “Oh, please. Don’t act like SHIELD is any better. You’re all about secrets and manipulation. This marriage is just another one of your little games.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed further. “You think I want this? To be tied to someone I barely know, just to fulfill a political agenda? Don’t kid yourself.”

“Kid myself?” You scoffed and took a step closer, your voice rising. “Do you think it’s any easier for me? Being forced to marry the Black Widow, of all people? I know your reputation, Natasha. You’re a manipulator, a killer. This is the last thing I wanted.” Natasha’s jaw clenched, her anger boiling up. “And what about you? You’re no saint either, Y/n. You’ve played your games, made your deals behind closed doors, pulled strings to get what you want. Don’t pretend you’re any better.”

Anger flashed in your eyes. “At least I don’t hide behind a mask of false righteousness. I do what needs to be done for the greater good, just like you. But don’t mistake necessity for desire. I have no interest in playing house with someone who doesn’t even know what trust means.”

Natasha felt a sharp sting of anger mixed with something else, something she didn’t want to name. “Trust? That’s rich, coming from you. You’ve built your career on deception. And now you expect me to believe you’re the victim here?” You stepped closer, your voice low and sharp. “I don’t care what you believe. We’re both victims of this situation, but if you think I’m just going to roll over for you, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Natasha’s anger flared again, her voice turning icy. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Let’s get one thing straight, I’m not here to make you happy. This is a business arrangement, nothing more. We’ll play the part when necessary, but other than that, stay out of my way.”

For a moment, they stood facing each other, only inches apart, the tension crackling between them like a live wire. Finally, Natasha turned away, breaking the tense silence. She moved to the table and sat down, forcing herself to focus. “Let’s talk logistics. The sooner we get this sorted, the sooner we can get it over with.”

You took a deep breath, regaining your composure, and sat down across from her. “Agreed. But don’t expect me to make it easy for you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Natasha shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I have an apartment in Brooklyn. It’s secure, and there’s enough space for both of us without stepping on each other’s toes. We can start moving your things tomorrow.” Your eyes narrowed. “Brooklyn? How convenient for you. Always need to have the home-field advantage, don’t you?”

Natasha offered a crooked smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m practical. It’s close to headquarters, and it’s safe. Unless you have a better suggestion?” Your lips pressed into a thin line, clearly dissatisfied but unwilling to argue further. “Fine. But don’t expect me to play the obedient spouse. I need my space, my own office, my own schedule.”

“Fine.” Natasha responded sharply. “I don’t want you around me all the time anyway. We’ll do what’s necessary to make this look real, public appearances, a few shared events, then back to our own lives.” You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed. “And what about the media? They’re going to follow us everywhere, looking for any crack in the facade.”

Natasha waved a hand dismissively. “We’ll handle it. Stick to the script, and we won’t have any problems. There’s no need to make this more complicated than it needs to be.” You remained unconvinced. “You’re acting like this is so simple. But we both know there’s nothing simple about this.”

Natasha’s eyes hardened. “We don’t have a choice, Y/n. We do this because we have to, not because we want to.” Your jaw clenched, your voice turning icy. “Believe me, Natasha, the last thing I want is for this to work. But I’ll do what needs to be done. Just don’t expect anything more from me.” The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the weight of your mutual dislike hanging heavy in the air. This was going to be a nightmare..

In this silent moment, an agent came in with a pile of paper stuff. He sensed the tension immediately and just put it on the table and quickly left the room.

Thebtable was now filled with details on how your upcoming marriage would be presented to the world. It was an intricately crafted plan, covering everything from the official story of how you met to the timeline of your relationship and your behavior in public. Every detail had been meticulously planned by SHIELD’s PR team to ensure that the marriage appeared genuine.

You flipped through the pages with a grim expression, your fingers gripping the edges of the paper as if you wanted to tear them apart. “This is ridiculous..” you muttered, not bothering to hide your frustration. “They expect us to memorize a script? Like we’re actors playing a part?”

Natasha, sitting across from you, “That’s exactly what we are.” she said coolly. “This isn’t a real marriage, remember? We’re playing a role for the public.”

You shot her a sharp look. “I’m well aware. But this..” you gestured contemptuously at the file “is insulting. ‘Shared interest in global politics and mutual respect for each other’s abilities’? Really?” You read the lines aloud, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “They’re acting like we’re two diplomats who fell in love over a discussion on trade agreements.” Natasha’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Would you prefer they invent a fairy tale romance? At least this version is believable. It’s not like we have a real story to fall back on.”

You slammed the file shut with a loud bang that echoed in the small room. “We wouldn’t need to make anything up if we weren’t being forced into this situation.” Natasha’s jaw tightened. “No one’s forcing you to stay. If you have a better solution, by all means, let me know.”

You sighed in frustration, rubbing your temples. “You know as well as I do that there isn’t one! Fury made sure of that.” Natasha watched you silently for a moment, her expression unreadable. “Then we make the best of it. We memorize the script, play the show, and get it over with.”

You looked up at her, your eyes flashing with anger. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re used to lying, aren’t you? Playing different roles, lying to people’s faces. But this..this isn’t just another mission, Natasha. This is our lives.”

Natasha's eyes hardened at the accusation. "You think I don't know that? You think I enjoy being paraded around like a puppet? I've spent my entire life fighting for control over my own decisions, and now I'm being told who I have to marry. So don't act like you're the only one angry about this." Your lips pressed into a thin line, your anger momentarily softened by a flicker of understanding. "Then why are you so calm? Why aren't you angrier?"

Natasha exhaled slowly, working to keep her emotions in check. "Because anger won't change anything. We're stuck in this, whether we like it or not. The sooner we accept that, the sooner we can figure out how to deal with it." You stared at her for a long moment, your expression softening just a little. "So we learn the script, smile for the cameras, and pretend we don’t hate each other?"

Natasha leaned forward slightly, her voice low and controlled. "Yes, we pretend we don't hate each other. But we have to make it believable. People will be watching us closely, if they sense something is off, the whole show falls apart. That means we need to know each other, at least enough to sell the act."

You raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident on your face. "And how do you suggest we do that? Some getting-to-know-you games? Maybe ‘Two Truths and a Lie’?" Natasha gave a humorless smile. "We start with the basics. We go through the script and fill in the gaps with real information. What's your favorite food? What do you do in your spare time? What’s your biggest pet peeve? Things that couples know about each other."

You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed, clearly not thrilled with the idea. "Fine. But don't expect me to share my deepest secrets."

"I wouldn't dream of it." She opened the file again and flipped to a page titled *Personal Details*. "It says here that you enjoy hiking and reading. Is that accurate, or did they make it up?" You rolled your eyes. "It's true. I like hiking when I have the time, and I read a lot, mostly history and politics, but they don't need to know that in detail."

Natasha nodded, making a mental note. "Good. We can work with that. Mine says I'm into physical fitness and strategy games." She paused and looked at you with a raised eyebrow. "Is there anything else we should add?" You looked at her thoughtfully before replying. "You like ballet, right? I read that somewhere." Natasha blinked, surprised by this observation. "Yes, that's true. Not many people know that."

"Well, it’s part of who you are.." you said, your tone less confrontational now. "We could use that." Natasha nodded, slightly impressed by this small concession. "Good. We'll add it to the list." You continued to go through the script, exchanging brief, factual information about yourselves, preferences, dislikes and childhood memories that could be used to support your fake story. But every answer was tinged with tension, each of you holding something back, building walls around yourselves.

After nearly an hour of discussion, you closed the file with a sigh and rubbed the back of your neck. "This is going to be a disaster." Natasha leaned back and crossed her arms. "Not if we're careful. We stick to the plan, stay on script, and give them no reason to doubt us."

You met her gaze, your expression weary but determined. "I just don't know how long we can keep this up. People will expect us to act like we actually care."

"We don't have to care." Natasha said, her voice cold and distant. "We just have to pretend we do." You shook your head, frustration evident in your voice. "And what happens if we slip up? If one of us says something off-script? We can't be perfect all the time."

"We won't slip up." Natasha said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We're both professionals. We've been in situations far more stressful than this. We'll manage." You stared at her for a moment, searching her face for a crack in her ironclad facade. "You really believe that, don't you? That we can just fake our way through this lie without any consequences?"

Natasha's gaze remained unchanged, unyielding. "I believe we don't have a choice." The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of your situation pressing down on both of you. This wasn't just about memorizing lines or putting on a good show, it was about maintaining a facade that could crumble at any moment, exposing you both to public scrutiny and potential danger. Finally, you stood up, your movements stiff with unresolved tension. "I guess we'll see, won't we?" Natasha stood as well, her posture mirroring yours. "Yes. We will."

The days passed in a blurred whirl of public appearances, each one a carefully staged performance that only deepened the rift between you and Natasha. Every event, every gesture, every word was meticulously planned, yet the underlying tension between you was impossible to ignore. The first major event you attended as a married couple was a high-profile gala, the kind of glittering affair where the rich and powerful gathered under chandeliers to sip champagne and discuss global affairs. Natasha had attended similar events countless times before, but never under these circumstances.

You wore an elegant black evening gown that accentuated your every movement, while Natasha was dressed in a sharp suit. As you walked into the ballroom, her hand rested lightly on your back, a gesture meant to appear familiar, but to you, it felt like a shackle. "Ready to charm the masses?" she murmured with a sarcastic edge as you entered the room.

The night was a marathon of forced smiles and carefully calculated interactions. You moved through the crowd like seasoned professionals, your hand never leaving Natasha's back as you met with diplomats and high society, maintaining the facade of a loving couple. But beneath the surface, Natasha could feel your simmering anger, mirroring her own. At one point in the evening, as you were cornered by a particularly nosy journalist, Natasha's patience was put to the test. The journalist smiled broadly and inquisitively as she fired off questions about your supposed whirlwind romance.

"How did you two meet?" the journalist asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. Natasha suppressed an eye roll, but her voice remained smooth and warm as she responded. "We met at a diplomatic conference. We were both there on separate missions, but we kept running into each other. Things developed from there."

You seamlessly picked up the conversation, though your smile was a bit too stiff. "It didn’t take long for us to realize how much we had in common. After that, everything just fell into place naturally." The journalist seemed satisfied with the answer but continued to probe. "And when did you know it was love?"

You hesitated, your smile faltering for a split second before you recovered. "It wasn't just one moment. It was a lot of little things that made us realize we couldn’t imagine our lives without each other." Natasha forced herself to smile at you, her fingers lightly brushing your arm in a gesture meant to appear affectionate. "Yes, it was all those little moments that made it clear."

As the journalist moved on, Natasha could feel the tension in your posture, your hand pressing a little more firmly against her back, as if you were reminding her of your shared discomfort. "That was close.." you muttered as you both retreated to a quieter corner of the room. "We handled it." Natasha replied curtly, her voice barely above a whisper. "That’s what we do."

The rest of the night proceeded in much the same way, the two of you moving through the room, presenting the perfect image of a loving couple. But every touch, every smile, every word was carefully calculated, and by the time you finally left the gala, Natasha felt as if she were about to snap from the strain.

The ride back to your shared apartment was suffocatingly silent. The driver, a SHIELD agent, wisely kept his eyes on the road, leaving you both to your thoughts. When you arrived 'home', you immediately went to the kitchen to pour yourself a stiff drink. Natasha followed you, already on edge, her patience worn thin by the constant charade.

You turned to her, your expression hard. "You're really good at this, you know that? At pretending. It’s almost like it’s second nature to you." Natasha tensed as she heard the accusation in your words. "I had to be good at it. It's my job."

You let out a humorless laugh. "Your job. Right. I guess that's what happens when you're trained to be a spy from childhood. You learn to play whatever role is required." The words hit a sore spot, and Natasha's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Careful, Y/n. You don't know what you're talking about."

You took a step closer, your voice dropping to a near growl. "Don't I? You’ve spent your whole life being prepared for this, haven’t you? To lie, to manipulate, to make people believe whatever you want them to. This whole marriage..this whole act..probably means nothing to you."

Natasha felt her anger flare, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "You think this is easy for me? You think I enjoy lying about every aspect of my life, pretending to be someone I’m not?" You didn’t back down, your eyes burning with frustration. "But you're damn good at it, aren’t you? Must be all those years in that room. They made you the perfect little actress."

That was the breaking point for Natasha. Her eyes flashed with anger as she stepped forward and closed the distance between you. "You have no idea what the Red Room did to me. What it took from me. So don’t you dare try to twist that into some kind of compliment!" You stood your ground, your own anger flaring in response. "I’m not giving you a compliment, Natasha. I’m saying it’s terrifying how easily you slip into these roles. How convincing you are at pretending to care."

Natasha's breathing quickened, her pulse pounding in her ears. "You think I want to be convincing, huh? You think I want to be good at this? I’ve spent my entire life fighting to break free of what the Red Room made me, and now I’m stuck in another damn role..and it’s with you."

Your jaw tightened, your anger now tinged with something that looked like guilt. "Maybe it’s not just a role for you. Maybe you don’t even know who you are when you’re not on a mission." The words cut deep, and for a moment, Natasha didn’t know how to respond. But the anger was too strong, too raw to let go. "You don’t know anything about me. Nothing about what I’ve been through, what I’ve had to do to survive."

You both stood there, staring each other down, the air between you crackling with fury and unspoken pain. Natasha's chest heaved with the force of her emotions, her mind a whirlwind of anger and hurt that she could barely keep in check. You set your glass down with a sharp clink, your face tight with suppressed frustration. "You know what? Maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t know you. But it sure as hell feels like you’re more comfortable in this lie than I am."

Natasha turned away, her hands trembling with the effort to contain her rage. "Go to bed, Y/n." You didn’t respond, simply turning on your heel and leaving the room, your footsteps echoing through the apartment. Natasha waited until she heard the door to your shared bedroom close before she finally let out a shaky breath. She was too good at pretending, far too good. And that was the problem. Because despite all her skills, all the years of training and missions, this felt different. It felt personal in a way she hadn’t anticipated, and your words had struck a nerve deep within her.

As Natasha stood alone in the kitchen, she couldn’t shake the feeling that you had seen through her facade in a way no one else ever had. The truth was, this marriage, this charade, was wearing her down in ways she hadn’t expected. And the more time she spent around you, the harder it became to maintain the mask she had worn for so long. She wanted to dismiss your words as just another argument, another clash of wills between two people who were forced into a situation neither wanted. But the truth was, you had hit on something she didn’t want to admit, even to herself. With a heavy sigh, she finally turned off the lights and headed to bed, her mind still racing. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep this up, but she knew one thing for certain. Whatever this was between the two of you, it was far from over.

The days that followed were intense, with both Natasha and you deeply immersed in your respective missions. Despite the tension between you, you had found a certain rhythm, maintaining your cover as a married couple while focusing on the tasks at hand. Your partnership was more functional than personal, efficient, strategic, and devoid of unnecessary emotional entanglements.

But that all changed when Loki appeared.

When chaos erupted in New York, the two of you were thrown right into the conflict, working side by side with the newly formed Avengers. The stakes were higher than ever, and there was no room for mistakes. You fought shoulder to shoulder, defeating Chitauri soldiers and securing key positions as you tried to save the city from destruction.

It was during one of those intense moments, after Natasha's confrontation with Loki, that everything changed. Loki had made it a point to bring up Natasha's past, the "red" in her ledger, the sins she had committed, the people she had hurt. He taunted her with names and events that Natasha had long tried to forget, using her guilt as a weapon to break her. The words were meant to destroy her, to make her doubt her worth, and they hit harder than any physical blow. But Natasha, the eternal professional, pressed on, using her pain as fuel to outmaneuver Loki and secure the information they needed. But the damage was done. The conversation with Loki had revealed more about Natasha’s past than she ever wanted anyone, especially you, to know.

After the battle, when the Avengers had won and the immediate threat had passed, Natasha returned to the SHIELD Helicarrier. The city was still in chaos, but the focus had shifted to recovery and rebuilding. Natasha was exhausted, both physically and mentally, the weight of Loki's words hanging over her like a dark cloud.

You had always had a keen sense for people, always quick to pick up on the smallest changes in mood or behavior. It was one of the reasons you were so good at your job. But now that sharp intuition was focused on Natasha, and it made her feel exposed in a way she wasn’t prepared for.

After debriefing with Fury, Natasha retreated to the quiet of your shared apartment, hoping to find a moment of peace. She had barely sat down on the edge of the bed when she heard the door open behind her.

“Natasha?” Your voice was soft, cautious, as you entered the room. Natasha didn’t turn around, but she could feel your probing gaze on her.

“What is it, Y/n?” Natasha’s tone was curt. She was too tired for this conversation, too drained to face another confrontation. You hesitated, the silence between you stretched out. “I..wanted to talk to you.” Natasha closed her eyes, bracing herself for another argument. “About what?”

“About Loki.” you said, your voice carefully measured. "We need to talk about what he said." Natasha’s muscles tensed, her back straightening as she tried to suppress the rising wave of fear in her chest. “I’m fine, Y/n. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“That’s the point, Natasha.” you continued, taking a few steps closer. “I am worried. I know I’ve pushed you before, teased you about your past, but I didn’t..I didn’t realize it was something so serious.” Natasha’s jaw tightened, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She didn’t want to have this conversation, not now, not ever. “I’ve already told you, my past is none of your concern.”

“But it is, Natasha!” Your voice was firmer now, the frustration evident. “We’re supposed to be partners, and I feel like I don’t know you at all.” Natasha finally turned to face you, her eyes narrowing as she stood. “You don’t know me, Y/n. And that’s how it’s supposed to be. I didn’t ask for your sympathy, and I don’t need your pity.”

Your expression hardened, but there was a flicker of pain in your eyes. “This isn’t about pity, and you know it. I’m just trying to understand.”

“Understand what?” Natasha snapped, her voice rising. “That I’ve done things I’m not proud of? That my past is full of blood and darkness you can’t even imagine?” You flinched at the sharpness in her voice, but you didn’t back down. “You’re right. I don’t know everything, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care. I’m trying to apologize, Natasha. For pushing you, for not realizing.”

Natasha stared at you, her anger battling with something deeper, something she didn’t want to name. “Why? So you can feel better? So you can feel like you’ve done the right thing?” Your eyes flashed with frustration. “No, damn it! I’m doing this because I care about you. Because, despite everything, I don’t want to keep fighting against you! Its draining..”

For a moment, you stood facing each other, the air between you charged with tension. Natasha felt her defenses beginning to crumble, the walls she had built around herself starting to give way under the weight of your words. Finally, she let out a shaky breath, her shoulders sagging as the fight drained out of her. “You want to know the truth?"

Natasha sat down on the edge of the bed, her hands resting on her knees as if she needed to hold herself together. “The Red Room..it destroyed me. It took everything I was and made something else out of it. Something that had no choice, no control.” You sat down beside her, but you kept your distance, respecting the space she needed. “You didn’t have a choice, Natasha. You were a child.”

“That doesn’t change what I did ” Natasha said quietly, her voice trembling slightly. “I killed people. Innocent people. And I..I enjoyed it, Y/n. Back then, I enjoyed it because that’s what they made me.” You reached out, placing your hand gently over hers, but you said nothing. You knew this was a moment where words couldn’t do much.

Her voice was soft and laced with pain. “The things I’ve done..the people I’ve hurt..you can’t just brush that aside. The Red Room wasn’t just training, it was torture, it was conditioning, it was turning little girls into weapons. I did terrible things because I was programmed to. Because I didn’t know any better.” She paused, as the memories came flooding back with painful clarity. “And even after I got out, even after I tried to make up for it, the past still haunts me. Loki knew exactly where to strike, exactly how to remind me of the monster I once was.”

You listened in silence, your heart aching at the pain in Natasha’s voice. “You’re not a monster, Natasha.” She shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “That’s easy for you to say. But you didn’t see what I did. You didn’t live it.”

“No, I didn’t. But I’ve seen who you are now. I’ve seen how hard you fight to do the right thing, how much you sacrifice. That’s not the work of a monster. That’s someone trying to make things right.” Natasha turned to you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But what if it’s not enough? What if it doesn’t matter what I do, and I can never atone for what I’ve done?”

You took her hands in yours. “You don’t have to do it alone, Natasha. You don’t have to carry this burden by yourself. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.” Natasha looked down at your hands, the warmth of your touch grounding her in a way she hadn’t expected. For so long, she had believed that her past was something she had to face alone, that no one could understand the shadow that had shaped her. But in this moment, with you by her side, she realized that maybe, just maybe she didn’t have to be alone anymore.

“I’m sorry.” Natasha whispered, her voice breaking. “For pushing you away.” You squeezed her hands gently. “I’m sorry too. For not seeing how much you were hurting.” You sat there for a long moment in silence, the weight of the past finally beginning to lift, replaced by something new..something fragile, but real. It wasn’t love, not yet, but it was trust, and for now, that was enough.

The days after your late-night conversation were different, marked by an unspoken understanding that hadn’t been there before. Natasha and you continued with your missions, and the world was still recovering from the chaos of Loki’s attack, but something between you had shifted. Where there had once been tension and unspoken resentment, there was now a cautious, growing trust.

You moved around each other more easily, your conversations were less strained, your silences less heavy. The sharp edges of your interactions had softened, replaced by a tentative camaraderie that surprised you both. You weren’t friends yet, and certainly not lovers, but you were no longer just colleagues forced into a marriage of convenience. You were partners..genuine partners.

One evening, after a particularly exhausting mission, you returned to the Helicarrier and noticed the weariness weighing on Natasha. Her shoulders were slumped, and her usually sharp eyes were dulled with fatigue. But there was also something else, a lightness that hadn’t been there before, as if the burden she carried was now a little less heavy. “You look like you could use a break.” you said, your voice light but laced with concern. Natasha glanced at you, a small, tired smile playing on her lips. “You’re not wrong. This week has been hell.”

“More than usual.” you agreed. “How about we grab a drink? No talk about missions, just..a chance to unwind.” Natasha hesitated for a moment, her instinct to decline warring with the realization that maybe, just this once, she didn’t have to handle everything on her own. “Yeah, okay. That sounds good.”

You headed to one of the quieter lounges on the Helicarrier, a small, dimly lit room where off-duty agents could relax. It wasn’t exactly cozy, but it was private enough to talk without the weight of your roles hanging over you. You ordered a couple of drinks, and the two of you sat down at a small table near the window, through which the vast, dark night could be seen. For a while, you drank in silence, the easy silence between you a far cry from the tense moments of the past.

“You know..” you began after a while, swirling your drink in your glass, “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About carrying this burden alone.” Natasha looked at you, her gaze steady but curious. “Yeah?”

“I’ve just..been thinking about how we’re supposed to be partners in this, but we’ve been so focused on keeping our walls up that we forgot what that really means." you said thoughtfully. “It’s not just about watching each other’s backs in a fight. It’s about being there for each other when things get tough, when the past tries to drag you down.”

Natasha nodded slowly, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “I’m not used to that, you know. Letting someone in.”

“I figured..” you said with a small smile. “But you let me in, at least a little. And I want you to know that it meant something. It made me realize that maybe I haven’t been as fair to you as I could have been.” Natasha’s expression softened, a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability in her eyes. “You don’t need to apologize, Y/n. We were both just doing our jobs.”

“I know.” you replied. “But still, I’m sorry. For pushing you, for not seeing how much you’ve been through. I was so caught up in the mission and the cover that I didn’t take the time to really see you.” Natasha took a sip of her drink, letting the warmth of the alcohol ease the tension in her shoulders. “You see me now.” she said quietly. “And that’s more than I’ve let anyone do in a long time.”

You sat in companionable silence for a few more minutes, the atmosphere between you relaxed and open. Natasha realized that it was a relief not to have to be constantly on guard, not to have to keep everyone at a distance. “You know.." you said after a while, your tone lighter, “I’ve been thinking that when all this mess is over, we should take a break. Do something normal. I hear married couples go on vacations.” Natasha chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “I’m not sure we pass as a normal married couple.”

“Who said anything about normal?” you grinned. “We could do something out of the ordinary. Like..I don’t know, skydiving or rock climbing. Something that gets the adrenaline pumping without the life-and-death stakes.” Natasha raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. “So you want us to jump out of a plane..for fun?”

You shrugged, a mischievous smile on your lips. “Why not? After everything we’ve been through, it might be nice to do something that gets the heart racing without our lives depending on it.” Natasha considered it for a moment, then smiled, a real smile, not the practiced one she used in public. “You know what? That actually doesn’t sound so bad.”

You clinked your glasses together, and as the evening wore on, you talked about everything and nothing. Trivial things like favorite foods and music, and deeper topics like your dreams and fears. The walls between you continued to crumble, and by the time you finally returned to your apartment, there was a new understanding between you. “Thank you, Y/n. For tonight.” You smiled back, your voice warm. “Anytime, Natasha. We’re in this together.”

“Yeah.” Natasha replied, the words feeling truer than ever before. “We are.” As you parted ways for the night, Natasha felt a lightness in her chest that she hadn’t felt in a long time. It wasn’t just the drink or the fact that she had survived another day, it was the knowledge that she wasn’t alone anymore. That for the first time in years, she had someone she could trust.

The following weeks were different. Natasha and you continued to work together, your partnership now stronger as the initial tension had eased. You were still far from being a typical married couple, but the foundation of trust you had begun to build made all the difference. One day, after a particularly successful mission, Fury called you both into his office. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but there was a hint of something, perhaps approval in his gaze.

“You two have done good work.” Fury said, his voice even. “The mission was a success, and your cover held under pressure. I have to admit, I wasn’t sure how this partnership would work, but you’ve exceeded expectations.”

Natasha glanced at you briefly, and you shared a small, knowing smile. “Thank you, sir.” Natasha replied. Fury nodded, then leaned back in his chair, his gaze sharpening. “That said, I’m not sure how much longer we can maintain the appearance of this marriage.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” Fury sighed, a rare sign of weariness passing over his face. “The situation has stabilized for now, but I have a feeling more trouble is on the horizon. You two have done your job well, but I’m giving you the option to dissolve the marriage if you think it’s the right move.”

Natasha felt a pang of something she couldn’t quite identify, regret? Uncertainty? She looked at you, searching your face for a clue as to what you were thinking. You met her gaze, your expression thoughtful. “I think..we should talk about it. See where we both stand.”

Natasha nodded slowly, a strange mix of emotions swirling in her chest. “Yeah. We’ll figure it out.” Fury watched you both for a moment, then gave a curt nod. “Take your time." With that, he dismissed you, and you left the office in silence, the weight of the decision heavy on your minds.

As you walked through the corridors, Natasha felt a sense of unease rising in her stomach. She hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected to feel anything at the thought of ending the marriage. But now, the idea left a strange emptiness inside her. “So..” you said quietly as you reached your quarters, “what do you want to do?”

Natasha took a deep breath, turning to face you. “I don’t know." she admitted. “This started as a mission, as a cover. But now..I don’t know.” You nodded, your expression understanding. “I get it. It’s complicated.”

Natasha hesitated, then reached out and took your hand in hers. “But I know one thing. Whatever happens, I don’t want to lose what we’ve built. I don’t want to lose this..partnership.”

You stood there for a long moment, holding each other’s gaze, the air between you charged with unspoken possibilities. Finally, you smiled, a genuine, warm smile that made Natasha’s heart skip a beat. "I have a good Idea where we can talk further.."

The lounge was quiet, with only the occasional murmur of conversations on the other side of the room. Natasha and you had had a few drinks again, the alcohol warming your bodies and loosening your tongues. You had been talking for hours, the conversation flowing easily between you in a way it hadn’t before. The heaviness of your earlier tensions had lifted, replaced by a comfortable, almost intimate atmosphere.

Natasha took another sip of her drink, enjoying the burn as it slid down her throat. She looked at you, watching as you swirled the last bit of your whiskey in your glass, your eyes slightly glazed from the alcohol. Your words slightly slurred, “I never thought we’d end up here. Not like this.”

Natasha laughed, her own voice tinged with the effects of the alcohol. “Yeah, me neither. This whole thing… was unexpected.” You leaned back in your chair, your gaze fixed on Natasha. “But..I’m glad we’re here. I’m glad we’re talking like this.” Natasha felt a warmth spread through her, one that had nothing to do with the alcohol. “Me too.” she admitted, her voice softening. “It’s nice…not feeling alone.”

You smiled, a crooked, slightly drunken smile that made Natasha’s heart skip a beat as she felt a surge of emotions she wasn’t entirely ready to name. “You’re not alone, Natasha. Not anymore.” There was a charged moment between you, the air thick with unspoken words and the weight of your shared experiences. The alcohol had lowered your defenses, leaving you both more vulnerable and open than you had been in a long time.

Natasha set her glass down, her fingers lightly brushing against yours on the table. The touch was electric, sending a shiver of awareness through her. She looked up and met your gaze, and in your eyes, she saw the same spark of attraction that she felt. For a moment, neither of you moved, the tension between you growing more intense with each passing second. Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, you leaned across the table, and your lips met Natasha’s in a gentle, hesitant kiss.

Natasha’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding as she responded to the kiss, her lips moving against yours in a way that felt both familiar and completely new. The kiss was tentative at first, an exploration of boundaries, but it quickly deepened as the need for each other became overwhelming.

Without breaking the kiss, you stood and pulled Natasha up with you. Your hands found each other’s bodies, exploring, touching, as you made your way out of the lounge and down the corridor to a quarter. Your kisses grew hotter, more desperate, as you neared the room. You fumbled with the keycard, finally managing to open the door, and the two of you tumbled inside, your bodies pressed tightly together. As you finally made it to the bed, the rest of the world seemed to disappear. There was only the two of you, entwined with one another, your kisses hungry, your touches urgent. The alcohol had stripped away your inhibitions, leaving only the raw desire for each other.

The night passed in a blur of passionate moments and whispered names, your bodies intertwined as you lost yourselves completely in each other. The connection between you deepened with every touch, every kiss, until there was no distance left between you, no more walls to keep you apart. When you finally fell asleep, your bodies were still entwined, your breaths mingling as you drifted into a deep, contented sleep. The alcohol had done its job, lowering your defenses and bringing you together in a way neither of you had expected.

The first thing Natasha felt as she slowly woke up was the dull pounding in her head. She groaned softly, turning over and pulling the blanket tighter around herself, trying to block out the morning light seeping through the curtains. But as she moved, she realized something was off, something warm and solid was lying beside her. She froze, her senses suddenly sharp despite the hangover. Slowly, she opened one eye and was immediately met with the sight of you lying next to her, your face turned toward her, still fast asleep.

Natasha’s breath hitched as the events of the previous night came rushing back to her. The drinks, the laughter, the conversation that had unexpectedly turned personal..and then how you had ended up here, wrapped in each other’s arms. Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to piece everything together. You had both been drunk, very drunk but that didn’t explain everything. How had you gone from reluctant partners in a forced marriage to this point? What had driven you to cross a line she hadn’t even realized you were approaching?

“shit." Natasha muttered quietly, careful not to disturb you as she tried to extricate herself from the sheets. But as she moved, you stirred beside her, your eyes slowly fluttering open. For a moment, you both simply stared at each other, your expressions mirroring the shock and confusion that Natasha was feeling. “Morning.” you finally said, your voice rough and uncertain.

“Morning.” Natasha echoed, her voice just as hesitant. There was a long, awkward silence as you both tried to process the situation. Natasha could see the same questions in your eyes that were running through her own mind: How had this happened? What did it mean? And where do you go from here?

“I..uh..did we…?” you began, clearly struggling to find the right words. Natasha’s cheeks flushed slightly as she nodded. “Yeah. I think we did.”

You rubbed your hand over your face, slowly sitting up as you tried to shake off the remnants of sleep and alcohol. “Okay, so…how did we end up here?” Natasha bit her lip, trying to recall the details. “We were talking..had a lot to drink. And then..I don’t know. One thing led to another, I guess.” She managed a small, ironic smile. “But at least we don’t have to invent any lies if someone asks us about our sex life now.”

You chuckled at her comment, and the tension in the room eased slightly. “True. It’s almost like we’ve fully embraced our roles now. Now that she's finished.” Natasha rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “I guess we’re just overachievers.”

The laughter died down, and once again, the reality of your situation set in. Things had gotten personal in a way neither of you had anticipated. “So…what do we do now?” you asked, your tone more serious this time.

Natasha sighed, sitting up and wrapping the sheet around herself. “I don’t know. We could just pretend nothing happened, but… that feels like we’d be lying to ourselves.”

“Yeah, and we’ve done enough pretending to last a lifetime.” you agreed, your expression thoughtful. “But we also can’t ignore the fact that this all started as a mission. A mission where we were supposed to pretend to be in love, even though we didn’t really like each other.” Natasha nodded, the weight of that truth pressing down on her. “Right. And now we’ve crossed a line, and I don’t think we can just go back.”

You frowned, deep in thought. “But do we need to go back? I mean, we’ve been through a lot together, and… I don’t know. Maybe this was just..inevitable?” Natasha looked at you, searching your face for any hint of what you were really feeling. “Maybe. But now it’s complicated. We can’t just act like everything is the same as before.”

Your smile, “Hey, at least we’re dedicated to the mission, right?” Natasha laughed, the sound easing some of the tension. “Right. We’ve more than fulfilled our duties.”

You both laughed, the tension between you beginning to dissipate. The humor was a relief, a way to ease the confusion and discomfort that came with waking up in each other’s bed after what was supposed to be just another night of playing your roles. But as the laughter faded, the reality of your situation remained. You couldn’t just laugh your way out of this, you had to figure out what it meant for you.

“So…what do we do now?” you asked again, your tone more serious this time. Natasha sighed, running a hand through her hair as she tried to organize her thoughts. “We figure it out. No more lies, no more excuses. We take it one step at a time.” You nodded, your expression softening. “I can do that. One step at a time.”

Natasha felt a strange sense of relief at your words. This was new territory for both of you, but at least you didn’t have to navigate it alone. You had each other, and while it was still a complicated mess, it was something you could rely on. As you both got out of bed and began to dress, the weight of your new reality settled over you. This wasn’t going to be easy, but you were in it together, and for now, that was enough.

“Hey, Natasha?” you said as you pulled your shirt over your head. “Yeah?”

You paused for a moment, your expression thoughtful. “I know this isn’t what either of us expected, but..I’m glad we’re here." Natasha smiled, a warm feeling spreading through her chest. “Me too, Y/n. Me too.”

As you left the room and stepped back into the world, you did so with a new understanding of each other. You had started as reluctant partners, forced together by a mission, but now…now there was something more. Something worth exploring, even if it was still messy and confusing. The mission had brought you together, but it was your shared experiences and growing bond that would keep you together. And as you walked side by side, ready to face whatever came next, you both knew that this was only the beginning of something new.

[artsekey]

Disney's Wish

Look, Disney's Wish has been universally panned across the internet, and for good reason.

It’s just…kind of okay.

 When we sit down to watch a Disney film—you know, from the company that dominated the animation industry from 1989 to (arguably) the mid 2010’s and defined the medium of animation for decades—we expect something magnificent. Now, I could sit here and tell you everything that I thought was wrong with Wish, but if you’re reading this review, then I imagine that you’ve already heard the most popular gripes from other users across the web. So, let me focus in:

The biggest problem with Wish—in fact, the only problem with Wish—is Magnifico.

Whoa, that’s crazy! There’re so many things about Wish that could’ve been better! The original concept was stronger! The music was bad--

I hear you, I do. But stay with me here, okay? Take my hand. I studied under artists from the Disney renaissance. I teach an adapted model of Disney’s story pipeline at a University level. I spent a ridiculous amount of time getting degrees in this, and I am about to dissect this character and the narrative to a stupid degree.

First, we need to understand that a good story doesn’t start and end with what we see on the screen. Characters aren’t just fictional people; when used well, characters are tools the author uses (or in this case, the director) to convey their message to the audience. Each character’s struggle should in some way engage with the story’s message, and consequently, the story’s theme. Similarly, when we look at our protagonist and our antagonist, we should see their characters and their journeys reflected in one-another.

So, what went wrong between Asha & Magnifico in terms of narrative structure?

Act I

In Wish, we’re introduced to our hero not long into the runtime—Asha. She’s ambitious, caring, and community-oriented; in fact, Asha is truly introduced to the audience through her love of Rosas (in “Welcome to Rosas”).  She’s surrounded by a colorful cast of friends who act as servants in the palace, furthering her connection with the idea of community but also telling us that she’s not of status, and then she makes her way to meet Magnifico for her chance to become his next apprentice.

Quick aside: I'm not going to harp on Asha as a character in the context of Disney's overall canon. Almost every review I've seen covers her as a new addition to Disney's ever-growing repertoire of "Cute Quirky Heroines", and I think to be fair to Asha as an actor in the narrative, it serves her best to be weighed within the context of the story she's part of.

As Asha heads upstairs for her interview, we're introduced to the man of the hour: Magnifico. He lives in a tower high above the population of Rosas, immediately showing us how he differs from Asha; he’s disconnected from his community. He lives above them. He has status. While the broader context of the narrative wants us to believe that this also represents a sense of superiority, I would argue that isn’t what Magnifico’s introduction conveys; he's isolated.

Despite this distance, he does connect with Asha in “At All Costs”. For a moment, their goals and values align. In fact, they align so well that Magnifico sees Asha as someone who cares as much about Rosas as he does, and almost offers her the position.

… Until she asks him to grant Saba’s wish.

This is framed by the narrative as a misstep. The resonance between their ideals snaps immediately, and Magnifico says something along the line of “Wow. Most people wait at least a year before asking for something.”

This disappointment isn't played as coming from a place of power or superiority. He was excited by the idea of working with someone who had the same values as he did, who viewed Rosas in the same way he does, and then learns that Asha’s motivations at least partially stem from a place of personal gain.

Well, wait, is that really Asha's goal?

While it's not wholistically her goal, it's very explicitly stated & implied that getting Saba's wish granted is at least a part of it. The audience learns (through Asha's conversation with her friends before the interview) that every apprentice Magnifico has ever had gets not only their wish granted, but the wishes of their family, too!  Asha doesn’t deny that this is a perk that she’s interested in, and I don't think this is a bad thing.

So, Is Asha’s commitment to Saba selfless, or selfish? I’m sure the director wanted it to seem selfless, wherein she believes her family member has waited long enough and deserves his wish granted, but we can’t ignore the broader context of Asha essentially trying to… skip the line.

Then, we get our first point of tension. Magnifico reveals his “true colors” in snapping at Asha, telling her that he “decides what people deserve”. This is supposed to be the great motivator, it’s meant to incite anger in the audience—after all, no one gets to decide what you deserve, right? But unfortunately for the integrity of the film and the audience's suspension of disbelief, at least part of Magnifico’s argument is a little too sound to ignore:

Some wishes are too vague and dangerous to grant. Now, there’s visual irony here; he says this after looking at a 100 old man playing the lute. The idea that something so innocuous could be dangerous is absurd, and the audience is meant to agree.

... But we’ve also seen plenty of other wishes that might be chaotic—flying on a rocket to space, anyone? The use of the word vague is important, too—this implies wording matters, and that a wish can be misinterpreted or evolve into something that is dangerous even if the original intent was innocuous. His reasoning for people forgetting their wish (protecting them from the sadness of being unable to attain their dreams) is much weaker, but still justifiable (in the way an antagonist’s flawed views can be justified). The film even introduces a facet of Magnifico’s backstory that implies he has personal experience with the grief of losing a dream (in the destruction of his home), but that thread is never touched on again.

              What is the audience supposed to take from this encounter? If we’re looking at the director’s intent, I’d argue that we’ve been introduced to a well-meaning young girl and a king who’s locked away everyone’s greatest aspiration because he believes he deserves to have the power to decide who gets to be happy.

              But what are we shown? Our heroine, backed by her friends, strives to be Magnifico’s apprentice because she loves the city but also would really like to see her family's wishes granted. When this request is denied and she loses the opportunity to be his apprentice, she deems Magnifico’s judgement unfair & thus begins her journey to free the dreams of Rosas’ people.

              In fairness, Magnifico doesn’t exhibit sound judgement or kindness through this act of the film. He’s shown to be fickle, and once his composure cracks, he can be vindictive and sharp. He's not a good guy, but I'd argue he's not outright evil. He's just got the makings of a good villain, and those spikes of volatility do give us a foundation to work off of as he spirals, but as we’ll discuss in a bit, the foreshadowing established here isn’t used to the ends it implies.

              While I was watching this film, I was sure Magnifico was going to be a redeemable villain. He can’t connect with people because he's sure they value what he provides more than they value him (as seen in “At All Costs” and the aftermath), and Asha’s asking for more was going to be framed as a mistake. His flaw was keeping his people too safe and never giving them the chance to sink or swim, and he's too far removed from his citizens to see that he is appreciated. Asha does identify this, and the culmination of her journey is giving people the right to choose their path, but the way Magnifico becomes the “true” villain and his motivations for doing so are strangely divorced from what we’re shown in Act I.  

Act II:

His song, “This is the Thanks I Get!?” furthers the idea that Magnifico’s ire—and tipping point—is the fact that he thinks the people he’s built a kingdom for still want more. Over the course of this 3:14 song, we suddenly learn that Magnifico sends other people to help his community and doesn’t personally get involved (we never see this outside of this song), and that he’s incredibly vain/narcissistic (he's definitely a narcissist). I think feeling under-appreciated is actually a very strong motivation for Magnifico as a character-turning-villain, and it works very well. It’s justified based on what we’ve seen on screen so far: he feels under-appreciated (even though he’s decidedly not—the town adores him), he snaps and acts irrationally under stress (as seen with his outburst with Asha), and he’s frustrated that people seem to want more from him (again, as seen with his conversation with Asha in Act I).

              But then… he opens the book.

Ah, the book. As an object on screen, we know that it's filled with ancient and evil magic, well-known to be cursed by every relevant character in the film, and kept well-secured under lock and key. But what does it stand for in the context of the narrative's structure? A quick path to power? We're never told that it has any redeeming qualities; Magnifico himself doesn't seem to know what he's looking for when he opens it. It feels... convenient.

I think it's also worth noting that he only turns to the book when he's alone; once again, the idea of connection and community rears it's ugly head! Earlier in the film, Amaya-- his wife-- is present and turns him away from taking that path. In her absence, he makes the wrong choice.

This decision could make sense; it contains powerful magic, and if it were framed in such a way that the people of Rosas were losing faith in Magnifico’s magic, as if what he can do might not be enough anymore after what they felt from Star, going for the book that we know contains spells that go above and beyond what he can already do would be logical. Along the lines of, “If they’re not happy with what I do for them, fine. I, ever the “martyr”, will do the unthinkable for you, because you want more.”

            It would keeps with the idea that Magnifico believes he's still trying to help people, but his motivation has taken his self-imposed pity party and turned it into resentment and spite.

 But, that’s not the case. Instead he talks about reversing that “light”, which has had no real negative or tangible consequences on Rosas. Everyone had a warm feeling for a few seconds. Again, it’s meant to paint him as a vain control freak, but… he hasn’t lost any power. The citizens of Rosas even assume the great showing of magic was Magnifico.

Act III

              Then, we get to the consequences of opening the book (and perhaps my biggest qualm with this film). The book is established as being cursed. Magnifico knows it, Asha knows it, and Amaya—who is introduced as loyal-- knows it. The characters understand his behavior is a direct result of the book, and search for a way to save him. This is only the focus of the film for a few seconds, but if you think about it, the fact that his own wife cannot find a way to free him of the curse he’s been put under is unbelievably tragic. Worse still, upon discovering there is no way to reverse the curse, Magnifico—the king who built the city & “protected it” in his own flawed way for what seems to be centuries—is thrown out by his wife. You know, the wife who's stood loyal at his side for years?

              It’s played for laughs, but there’s something unsettling about a character who’s clearly and explicitly under the influence of a malevolent entity being left… unsaved. If you follow the idea of Magnifico being disconnected from community being a driving force behind his arc, the end of the film sees him in a worse situation he was in at the start: truly, fully alone.

              They bring in so many opportunities for Magnifico to be sympathetic and act as a foil for Asha; he’s jaded, she’s not. He’s overly cautious (even paranoid), she’s a risk-taker. He turns to power/magic at his lowest point, Asha turns to her friends at her lowest point. Because this dichotomy isn’t present, and Magnifico—who should be redeemable—isn’t, the film is so much weaker than it could’ve been. The lack of a strong core dynamic between the protagonist and antagonist echoes through every facet of the film from the music to the characterization to the pacing, and I believe if Magnifico had been more consistent, the film would’ve greatly improved across the board.

I mean, come on! Imagine if at the end of the film, Asha—who, if you remember, did resonate with Magnifico’s values at the start of the film—recognizes that he's twisted his original ideals and urges him to see the value in the people he’s helped, in their ingenuity, in their gratitude, & that what he was able to do before was enough. Going further, asking what his wish is or was—likely something he’s never been asked— and showing empathy! We’d come full circle to the start of the film where Asha asks him to grant her wish.

Pushing that further, if Magnifico’s wish is to see Rosas flourish or to be a good/beloved king, he'd have the the opportunity to see the value in failing and how pursuing the dream is its own complex and valuable journey, and how not even he is perfect.

 The curse and the book (which, for the purposes of this adjustment, would need to be established as representing the idea of stepping on others to further your own goals/the fast way to success), then serve as the final antagonist, that same curse taking root in the people of Rosas who’ve had their dreams destroyed, and Asha works with the community to quell it. Asha’s learned her lesson, so has Magnifico, and the true source of evil in the film—the book—is handled independently. Magnifico steps back from his role as King, Amaya still ends up as Queen, and Asha takes her place as the new wish-granter.

This route could even give us the true “Disney villain” everyone’s craving; giving the book sentience and having it lure Magnifico in during “This is the Thanks I Get!?” leaves it as its own chaotic evil entity.

All in all, Magnifico's introduction paved a road to redemption that the rest of the film aggressively refused to deliver on, instead doubling down on weaker motivations that seem to appear out of thin air. Once the audience thinks, hey, that bad guy might have a point, the protagonist has to do a little more heavy lifting to convince us they're wrong.

Look at the big-bad-greats from Disney's library. There isn't a point in the Lion King where we pause and think, "Wait a second, maybe Scar should be the guy who rules the Pridelands." Ursula from the Little Mermaid, though motivated by her banishment from King Triton's Seas, never seems to be the right gal for the throne. Maybe Maleficent doesn't get invited to the princess's birthday party, but we don't watch her curse a baby and think, Yeah, go curse that baby, that's a reasonable response to getting left out.

What do they all have in common? Their motivation is simple, their goal is clear, and they don't care who they hurt in pursuit of what they want.

Magnifico simply doesn't fall into that category. He's motivated by the idea of losing power, which is never a clear or impactful threat. His goal at the start seems to be to protect Rosas, then it turns into protecting his own power, and then-- once he's corrupted-- he wants to capture Star. The problem is, there's no objective to put this power toward. Power for power's sake is useless. Scar craves power because he feels robbed of status. Ursula believes the throne is rightfully hers. Maleficent wanted to make a statement. Magnifico... well, I'm not really sure.

[thisonehere]

Come Back To Me

A Match Made in Hell Part 4

Last part

Next part

A/n: And here it is! Ngl, it's been a long week, I'm just so happy to finally have this out. When it comes to revealing who Y/n' "special friend" is, I've seen a lot of good ideas. I decided to go with the most unexpected one that would burn Bi-Han to see Y/n with.

Tags: @maulsgf @sweetpanda18 @thickemadame @posterbunny @strawbisane @fandom-garbage @sleepyfxce @livingdeadgirly

C/w: Mentions of groping, and stalking, threats of physical violence to reader

It was dark outside now, Bi-Han tried to ignore how late it had gotten. He rubbed drue sleep from his eyes and pulled himself closer to his desk. He tried to keep himself busy by looking over papers before him, all neatly stacked and organized. But Bi-Han would still mess with them, reorganizing them, putting them into different groups. Sometimes he would even reread them. All this to keep his kind off you.

He had frequent meetings with the sorcerers, Quan Chi and Shang Tsung, strategizing their next steps. Bi-Han would still pretend to be loyal to Liu Kang while they continued to work on the shadows. He be a spy for them, telling them Liu Kang's plans so they could prepare for any attack. Then, when the time was right, they all will take him by surprise and destroy him and all his allies. Kuai Liang and Tomas were livid at this news, even to the that they would perhaps do something to stop him. Now that he thought about it actually, he hasn't seen them a lot lately, perhaps they truly are planning to something. If it is true, he isn't worried, he has faith that with the sorcerers, Bi-Han will be able to handle them. It's you that worries him the most.

Bi-Han began to reorganize a stack of papers, he decided he wanted them to each go to another stack. They didn't need to, but he needed something to do. He wasn't usually this obsessive with these trivial things, but it was nice to be distracted. When he finished, Bi-Han sighed and leaned back into his seat. By now it was so late that many of his Lin Kuei had no doubt followed the curfew and turned into their chambers to sleep. Yet he was still up, for so many nights since he went to Lin Kuei to retrieve you, he's been up. He had sent his messenger away to retrieve you weeks ago, the last time he heard from him was that he located you and was on his way back. Hopefully with you.

Since then, Bi-Han has been keeping himself busy to try to keep his mind off of it all. But every moment he got just a second rest his mind, thoughts of you appeared. He hadn't realized just how much he missed until after Tomas's outburst. He didn't want to admit it, but the fool was right, you did love him. And perhaps he did take you for granted, just a little. But none to worry about, You'll

Bi-Han is quickly brought back to reality when he hears a knock on the door. A very timid knock, like the person was scared. But it was enough to cause Bi-Han to quickly sit up right in his, correct his posture, and fold his hands onto the table. "Enter." He barked, putting on his best, stern face. But you look closely enough, you'd see a sie k of hope and anxiety in them. He watched the door as it slowly opened and the Lin Kuei entered. He approached the Grandmaster and made a quick bow. "Well?" If Bi-Han didn't know any better, he could've sworn that he heard the man gulp. "I had successfully managed to find Lady Y/n and make her aware that you ordered her return." Bi-Han stared at him, giving him an eye to the urge to continue. He could see that the Lin Kuei was obviously nervous, this made something in Bi-Han nervous himself. "Lady Y/n heard you request...and she refused to come back."

The Lin Kuei tries to retain his composure as he waits for the Grandmaster to say something. The way the Grandmaster looked at him, it scared him to death. He had a murderous look in his eyes, what makes it more terrifying is the silence. He could feel his heart beat against his ribcage so hard that he swore it was going to burst out. "Grandmaster?" He asks after the Grandmaster says nothing.

---

"Y/n, I need you to bus table 86 and table 56 need extra silverware." Madame Bo said, she had just come back from showing a party of 3 to their table. "I'm on it." You say as you sling your wrag over your shoulder and pick up the bin of used dishware. It was rush hour and that meant a very busy day at the Tea House, it was a full house and you were working hard. Madame Bo insisted that you take a lunch break, but you insisted on continuing to work. You didn't work past 3 so you wanted to get as much work done as possible before clocking out.

You weren't used to working this much back at the Artika. You helped in the kitchen many times, especially with the cooking, but for the most part you had a very cushy life. But you weren't opposed to trying to work. It was very hard though, when you first started working with Madame Bo you shattered quite a few of her plates when you fell down a flight of stairs after you tripped over your own foot.

For quite some time you were terrified of the stairs.

Madame Bo makes her way to the door as you rush past her to the kitchen to drop off the dishes to be washed and grab more silverware. You eye the clock that hangs over the entrance door, 12:30. A knot forms in your stomach as you see this. In a few hours you'll have to clock out. Madame refuses to let you work past 3 and usually you would be fine with that. But not today. Not after what you said to the Lin Kuei. The image of Bi-Han's face when he finds out you won't return. He would no doubt be furious and heartbroken, and just the thought of that made you feel...good inside, quickly making you forget about your fear and worries. But you couldn't deny how unsure you felt about leaving work alone, Kung Lao and Raiden were away and your *ahem* "special friend" wouldn't be visiting you until later tonight. So you would be spending hours alone. You just hoped you wouldn't have to deal with Lin Kuei sent by Bi-Han to collect you.

---

For the next few hours you were on your feet running throughout the Tea House, Bussing tables, refilling drinks, and adding new silverware. You even had the pleasure of kicking out a party.

"I think you should leave." You say sternly, hands on your hips as you impatiently tap you foot against the ground. looks at you up and down, unimpressed, the rest of the men at the table snickered, as if you said something funny. He and the rest of the table were getting a little too rowdy after a few too many drinks. They were yelling, used the most foul language you've had the misfortune of hearing, harassed many of the staff and verbally abused them, and even got a little too handsy with the waitresses.

Many of the other guests complained about them, and you finally decided to deal with it. "Listen, sweetheart, I don't think you know who you're talking to. We're not going anywhere. So I suggest you, I don't know, be a good girl and get us some more drinks." His friends nodded in agreement with toothy grins. You narrow you eyes as you study all the men at the table. On their arms bore tattoos that signified their allegiance. Except one, he kept himself covered from head to toe, you thought was weird, but you chose not pay him much kind. They're all a part of a gang that was visiting here for a meeting, a group called the Black Dragon. They were very infamous, especially their leader Kano. They were all evil and rugged to look upon.

You remember you husband reporting that he acquired their all that time ago when you were at the Artika. You thought it was beneath him to work with such low-wit, bottom feeding, ruffians, but you never said anything out of love and support. Some of the other staff members were too scared to kick them out, but as someone who lived with a clan of assassins where you were the wife of one of the most deadliest warriors alive, you weren't very impressed by them. "I'm not asking you to go anywhere, I'm asking you to go somewhere: Outside." Your eyes stay firmly on him, he glares at you, his cocky expression grows a slight bit of annoyance. He gets out of his seat and stand over you all menacing. "Listen," he squints his eyes to look at your name tag. " 'Y/n', cute name by the way, me and my boys have big day today. We're going to be meeting with a very special client. So it would suggest you be a good girl and mind your own business... I'd hate to have to swing by your place to teach you some manners."

Feeling that he did enough intimidating, the black dragon calmly sits back down, pleased on his face. With a sigh, you smooth out the wrinkles of your clothes and fix your composure. You smile at him, and he smiles back, you then grab him by the ear and rip him out of the seat. "Alright. I've listened to you, and now you'll listen to me. Be a good boy and leave, or I'll have to get Madame Bo to teach you some manners, believe me, she is an excellent teacher." And with that, you lead him, by ear, to the door. He leaves a trail of multiple "ow's" and "let go's" until you finally make it to the door and throw him to the ground outside. He angrily tries to get to his feet. "B*tch." He spits at you. The other men at the table found their way to the exit where you were. They all shot your dirty looks as they passed you. Except the masked man he walks past you and keeps walks, the others are quick to follow after him. You thought it was strange but you chose not to care.

"Y/n, we need help in the kitchen. Be sure to wash any germs that boy gave you and help us, won't you?"

You chuckle softly as you follow her to the kitchen. "Of course, I'll be sure to wash off all the fleas he gave me."

---

2:45

---

Things were finally dying down, many of the customers finished their meals and were going back to work if they had not already left. The restaurant had found a new peace with just a little under 70 customers left, something manageable for the rest of the staff. You were in the kitchen finishing a loaf of dishes and placing them to dry. You grab a cloth to dry your hands "And that's another day." You sigh in relief, the long day finally catches up to you and you need to sit down. Stumble over and collapse into a chair in the corner of the room. Washing the dishes had to be the most gruelling part of the day. It felt like a neverending task, bussers repeatedly coming in with new dishes to the point that you thought you'd be here all night.

You lay your head against the wall as you catch your breath and try to find the strength to clock out. You slowly feel yourself doze off. You begin to daydream about your night. Your friend will come over, you both wanted to watch another movie. He said it's a classic, something called Ninja Mime, you really don't care to see. You're just excited to spend time with him, he has grown to be one of your closest friends here. You met him through Raiden and Kung Lao and you didn't care for him at first, but he grew on you. And now you have movie nights whenever he's here. This will be the last he'll be here in a while though, like Raiden and Lao, there's some kind of crisis that means he'll have to go to aid the fire god. Some conflicts with Shang Tsung and Quan Chi. And Bi-Han's working with them, an enemy right underneath their noses.

You ponder the concept of telling everyone just what Bi-Han was doing. He'd possibly be imprisoned and Kuai would inherit the Lin Kuei, much to Sektor's chagrin. Maybe Bi-Han would rot in a cell until he decided to change his ways. And the Demon, Sareena, she would no doubt escape, maybe back to Quan Chi if he hadn't already been captured. This all painted quite a pretty picture in your head. Then you think even harder about Bi-Han in a cell, he would not go without a fight, so there he is covered in bruises. He sits alone in the dark, his face a mixture of rage and misery. Perhaps that's what he deserves...perhaps...you'll be punished too.

You were complicit in all this, you knew what he was doing was wrong yet you did nothing, you looked the other way, not just to keep him happy, but also because you couldn't bring yourself to care. The only reason you left was because of the affair and now you continue to not tell anyone what Bi-Han was doing. Perhaps, you're just as bad as him. Maybe his cheating was the Elder Gods punishing you. Or maybe you're just trying to find a way to blame yourself for what he did to you.

A stiff pain goes through your neck and throughout your whole body. You groan as you rise to your feet and stretch. It's best not to think about it, just think about your friend. Think about Ninja Mime. Just don't think about--

"So this is what my wife has been reduced to,"

...Oh...Oh God no...

---

"An underling of an Ex-Lin Kuei, rummaging for scraps in a backwater village." Bi-Han stood under the entrance. He leaned against the doorframe, a vicious scowl on his face as he looked you up and down. He watches as you slowly turn to face him, horror painted all over your face. Bi-Han gets off the doorframe, he fixes you with a harsh gaze. The tension in the air is thick as you both just stand there. He had expected some witty retart from you by now, but you just stared at him with dread and disgust. His rage subsided for a moment, he hasn't seen your face for too long. You used to look at him with such love in your eyes, but now you look at him like he's some monster who's about to attack you.

"Y/n..." he started, not quite sure what he'd say. "Bi-Han..." you stare at him in disbelief as you slowly shake your head. "Why the hell are you here?" I came to bring you home is what he wanted to say, "On a business trip. I have a meeting tonight with a very special asset." Bi-Han looks at you as he can tell you are working in your head, suddenly, your eyes widen. "Those Black Dragons... They're here for you!?" Bi-Han merely nodded. Originally, he was supposed to meet with Kano at the Artika, but when you rejected him, he had Shang Tsung teleport him here where he'd now hold the meeting. It was a terrifying moment, the way Bi-Han burst into the Sorcerers lair, a vile rage in his eyes. He had dealt with the Lin Kuei for failing him and now he intended to deal with you. Shang Tsung immediately opened the portal, mainly out of fear.

He had thought you'd recognize him at the table when you kicked him and the Black Dragon out. He had offered to go with them to Madame Bo's, going as far to pay for it all. All just for a chance to see your face. He was mildly impressed with how you handled the man, he was surprised to see you like this. You were so different then when he last saw you. You were in much more simpler clothing than he was used to. He thought about how you used to look, he never really paid attention to how much effort you put into your hair, your clothes, your makeup, everything. All that effort just for him. You were so beautiful, even now, you're more beautiful here. More than beautiful, he saw the face you made as you worked today. Pure joy and content. You seem so happy here, away from him...

"Then go." You say coldly as you turn you back to him. "You're not going to kiss me good luck?" He took a few steps closer to you. "Why don't you ask Sareena to do it?" Bi-Han chuckled a little, there's the fire he was looking for. "She already has, among other things." Though Bi-Han didn't see it, he could sense the rage slowly building inside of you. "I hate you, so much..." You turn to face him, Bi-Han can tell that he opened an old wound and rubbed salt into it. But you can't possibly mean what you said...right? "Y/n, I-" but you don't let him finish. "Get out! Get out now or I'll scream! Madame Bo will hear, she'll come and she'll-"

"I miss you." He interrupts; you fall silent.

It wasn't easy for Bi-Han to say it, but it was the only thing that would calm you down and make you listen. He waits for a moment for you to calm down, you still refuse to face him. "Y/n...I..." There's so many things he wants to say to you, but words were never his strong suit. He knew you wanted him to apologize, get on his knees and beg for forgiveness, and you knew his pride would never let him. "It's time you come home, Y/n, enough of this childish nonsense." he says with low voice as he slowly approaches you. "You don't belong here. You don't belong with them. You are Lin Kuei, we both know you deserve so much better than this." He places a gentle hand onto your shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. Silence again. Bi-Han lets out a sigh as he walks away. "I'll be here for three days." He takes a piece of paper from his pocket and sits it on the counter. "This is where I'll be staying. All I ask is that you see me, talk to me, at least once before I go."

Bi-Han looks back at you, wishing that you look at him. Look at least once before he left, even if it was hatred, he didn't care, just as long as he got to see your face. But you refuse to look at him. Bi-Han softens as he looks at you longingly, then his face hardens once again into a scowl as he storms out of the room. Nevertheless, he knows you well enough. When this gets to be too much, you'll run back to him, no matter how unwilling you pretend to be now. And he will be there waiting. You will come back to him... won't you...?

---

You failed to clock out; You didn't leave the Teahouse; You stayed in the kitchen; You cried.

When you finally found the strength, you left the kitchen to walk home. When? You didn't know, and you didn't care to check. Madame Bo saw you walk past; you looked disturbed, horrified even. She asked what was wrong, and she seemed so scared for you. You mumbled that you were fine, rushing past her before she could say anything else. You didn't stop running, you ran all the way home, not stopping for a second to catch your breath or relax. When you finally made it to the house you collapsed onto the step.

You are reduced to a heaving mass of huffing and panting with your head in your hands, trying to catch your breath. You need to think, you need to lie down actually. Too much has happened today, you didn't want to think about it at all. You reach into your pocket and pull out the piece of paper with an address on it, you study it like it's the Bible. You read it over and over again until it sears its place into your brain. You feel rage forming inside you as you look at it. You rip the paper up and crumple it up before you throw it somewhere, not quite sure where because you didn't look.

You feel like there's something hot inside that just sits there and boils, you didn't want to scream or hit something, you felt so angry and you didn't know what to do with this fury. You hug yourself as you rock back and forth. You didn't want to be angry but you didn't want to calm down either. To accurately describe how you felt, it would be: UkJFIi$-#-AsbSU$+$(#_SJDKgjKXIDJ+$+$(#!!! It didn't make sense but that's just how you felt. You close your eyes as you raise your head up high and try to breathe. Seeing Bi-Han, it was not something you wanted. But it was at the same time. You should've been stronger now, nothing he said should have any effect on you. To be honest, you wanted kiss him...and then stab him, and then kiss him again, and the twist the knife.

You weren't naive, you knew you'd have to face Bi-Han eventually. You created a multiverse of different scenarios in your head on how you'd react, all the things you'd say, how he'd react, you created an entire fantasy in your head. And it was all glorious. You never anticipated Bi-Han to ambush you like that. You had so much to say, yet the moment you saw him, you choked. None of the things you wanted to say came to mind. Silence felt the only right option as you stood with your back to him.

"What do I do?" You mutter, your voice is broken and faint. A gentle and cool breeze tickles and plays with your hair.

Suddenly, you hear the door open behind you. You head swings around to see who it is. Raiden and Kung Lao aren't here, so the only person that could possibly be here is...that special friend of yours. He stands there looking down at you, very concerned.

You gasp surprised. "Johnny!?!?" Johnny Cage, your "special friend", gives a dry laugh as walks onto the step. "Hey Kitty, I know, I know. I'm a sight for sore eyes." He gives you a dazzling smile as he sets himself down next to you. "W-What are you doing here? You said you'd be here later." The movie star brushes back his hair as he takes in the nice weather. "I lied. I wanted to surprise you and come early. Then I'd give you the greatest, most special gift of all: spending extra with me. Now, come in, I made caramel popcorn."

---

The house had an amazing scent of chocolate, butter, and freshly made popcorn mixed with the syrup scent of caramel fill the air. You sigh at the delicious scent, you feel every stiffness and worry in your body melt as you take in the scent. You feel a smile spread across your worried face as you feel at ease. "Johnny, that smells wonderful." You try not to giggle at what you see next. An entire counter of snacks, some homemade, others are foreign, but what's most important, they're all your favorite. Your smile is contagious as it spreads to Johnny. Seeing how happy you made Johnny feel proud of himself, a bright smile forms onto his face. "Well, What can I say? I'm the best at giving the people what they deserve."

When you first met Johnny, you thought he was a self-centered, disrespectful, piggish, insolent, casanova-wannabe slag...And, well, he minda is. He had tried coming on to you, unfortunately for him this wasn't a good time for him to hit on you so you let out all the anger and resentment you felt for Bi-Han onto him. Imagine his face as you screamed at him, insulting every aspect of him, going on to questioning why would he do this to you, how could he do this to you, after all that you been through, and then having to comfort you as you broke down into tears. Later, you both had a heart to heart, he apologized for how he acted with you and you apologized for traumatizing him. Long story short, you quickly became close.

When he found out you never saw a movie before, he was over the moon with excitement to introduce you to the wonderful world of cinema like he did Kitana. He'll never forget the twinkle in your eyes as you saw your first movie, one of his of course. He loved talking to for hours about interesting trivia about things that happened behind the scenes and certainly scenes were made.

Tonight, he wanted to show you his baby, on of his all time best movies that won him numerous awards, Ninja Mime. It's one of his most cherished works and that since he would be gone for a long time, that would be the first movie you'd watch tonight.

"You're going to love it! It's the Cage cut too. So that means 2 extra hours of absolute cinema." He was basically bouncing off the walls with excitement as he readied the TV. You sigh in relief at the sound of this, you'll need something to distract you. Seeing the excitement on Cage's face was enough to make you forget about all your worries and wash away. You melt into the couch as you throw popcorn into your mouth. "But do tell me, Johnny, are there any bloopers of you messing up. Probably not, they probably need to make entire movies worth of you goofs. An entire series maybe." A smile spread across Johnny's face as you snicker. "Believe me, I don't mess up, he makes beautiful mistakes."

You found it odd how almost everyone, Bi-Han, Raiden, Kung Lao, etc thought Johnny's movies were terrible. Maybe it's because you've never really seen many movies before so you don't know what a good movie looked like, but you thought his movies were amazing. The rest of the night you spent glued to the screen as you watched every scene. You 'oohed' and 'aahed' at the action scenes no matter how obviously caked with CGI they were, you laughed at the corny jokes he made, you cried when underwritten and an annoying side character died. It was all so magical, it made it feel even more that he was here to experience it with you. He beamed as he gave you behind the scenes stories, such as when he performed an entire stunt with a broken rib.

The sun begins to set outside, and you were inside glowing with amazement at what you just saw. "Johnny, that was..." You can't even find the right words to explain how you felt. You didn't mean to, but you were really feeding Johnny's ego. "I know, I know. Don't speak. No words can bring it justice. That movie won me Oscars. And then the sequels got me a few razzies but that's besides the point." You exhale and sit up right on the Couch. "Thank you, Johnny." You give him a warm smile, he merely shrugs. "I'm just doing my part to spread the magic of cinema to the unfortunate such as yourself."

"No, I mean it." You gently lay your soft and warm hand onto his. "I really needed this, a lot, thank you." He looks up at you surprised, his cocky facade fades. He takes your hand in his and he returns your warm gaze. "You're welcome, Y/n" you both smile at each other as your enjoy the warmth of each other shand.

Not notice the shadowy figure outside the window of the kitchen. He stands there in shock at the sight of the two of you, a murderous look in his ice cold eyes.

Next Time: Bi-han gets lil jealous

[goodnightmemes]

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON SEASON TWO SENTENCE STARTERS

❛ Duty is sacrifice. It eclipses all things, even blood. All men of honor must pay its price.

❛ War is coming, to the whole of the realm.❜

❛ I am indebted to you. ❜

❛ I'm afraid. ❜

❛ We should've just killed her when we had the chance. ❜

❛ When the king speaks, Your Grace, all hear it. ❜

❛ I find myself wondering...do we pursue the same end? ❜

❛ You must accept that the path to victory now is one of violence. ❜

❛ Did you think I would wither in your absence? ❜

❛ You only blame me because your true enemies are out of reach. ❜

❛ She holds love for our enemy. That makes her a fool. ❜

❛ I promise you, you will have all the vengeance that you seek, but you must keep a grip on your impulses. ❜

❛ Do anything but what I ask, and I'll bleed the whole lot of ya. ❜

❛ The gods punish us. They punish me. ❜

❛ This is not the time for blind accusations. We'll know who did this soon enough. ❜

❛ I will not be seen as weak. ❜

❛ Sometimes, we have to pretend. ❜

❛ I cannot trust you. I've never trusted you, wholly, much though I wished to, willed myself to. But now I have seen that your heart belongs only to you. ❜

❛ You think me some kind of monster. ❜

❛ You're pathetic. ❜

❛ We can afford no further mistakes. ❜

❛ You are mad. Mad! You cannot think that I did this! ❜

❛ You would send me to my death. ❜

❛ I would remind you only that when princes lose their temper, it is often others who suffer. ❜

❛ I see all your great adventures have done nothing for your looks. ❜

❛ For too long, I made it my aim to be of consequence. But now, I see that was the wish of a child. ❜

❛ I wish to spill blood, not ink! ❜

❛ Instead of judgment, you display impetuousness, and diminish us in the eyes of our enemy! ❜

❛ Fuck dignity! I want revenge. ❜

❛ They wish now not for the good of the realm, but for the petty satisfaction of vengeance. ❜

❛ Soon they will not even remember what it was that began the war in the first place. ❜

❛ There is no war so hateful to the gods as a war between kin. ❜

❛ I'm as fearsome as any of them. ❜

❛ You showed me grace when you could have withheld it. I'm not often surprised. ❜

❛ I cannot promise to make you happy. But I ask you: make this sacrifice willingly, for all of us. ❜

❛ If you've not yet surmised, you are welcome here. ❜

❛ Sin begets sin begets sin. ❜

❛ If dragons begin fighting dragons, we invite our own destruction. ❜

❛ Do not coddle me. Grant me at least that dignity. ❜

❛ Sadness is a condition of motherhood. ❜

❛ You have as much claim to grief as anyone. ❜

❛ Tales take on a life of their own, like weeds. Unless they are tended. ❜

❛ Always coming and going, aren't you? And I have to clean up afterwards. ❜

❛ You will die in this place. ❜

❛ I have been, at times, unkind, but never untrue. ❜

❛ You must go before you are discovered. ❜

❛ Your mother must've been very beautiful. ❜

❛ You should've burned them when you had the chance. ❜

❛ Is there no honor left in this world? ❜

❛ This is a better death than a traitor deserves. You should thank me for it. ❜

❛ I will not be made to look a fool in front of my allies and enemies. ❜

❛ I believe it is a sin to deny your appetites. They are what make us fully alive as mortal men. ❜

❛ If I may be so bold, you have not seemed yourself of late. ❜

❛ I've barely had the hours to grieve one tragedy before suffering the next. ❜

❛ I've come to know the face of tortured rest well enough. ❜

❛ Do you think simply wearing the crown imbues you with wisdom? ❜

❛ You have no idea the sacrifices that were made to put you on that throne. ❜

❛ What would you have me do? ❜

❛ Do simply what is needed of you: nothing. ❜

❛ Where have you been, these last days? You vanished without so much as a word.❜

❛ There are those who have mistaken my caution for weakness. Let that be their undoing. ❜

❛ If you die, all is lost. ❜

❛ The horrors I have just loosed cannot be for a crown alone. ❜

❛ Do you take issue with me? ❜

❛ I can sit still no longer. I must act. ❜

❛ I did not think they would be so eager to die. ❜

❛ I need them alive. I came here to raise swords, not corpses. ❜

❛ Will you goad me? When your bread and shelter now depend on my pleasure? ❜

❛ I mislike feeling powerless. ❜

❛ I do not know my part. The path I walk has never been trod. ❜

❛ What you cannot do, let others do for you. ❜

❛ There is more than one way to fight a war. ❜

❛ I do not wish to stand alone. ❜

❛ Has your loyalty faded? Or does it flourish only at night and flee the sunrise like a moth? ❜

❛ What we must do now is... terrible. ❜

❛ This is not war. These are crimes against the innocent, that any upright man would repudiate. ❜

❛ And once again, in the name of power, it's the weak and the women who must endure. ❜

❛ Was it worth the price? ❜

❛ I caution you, boldness is one thing, but overconfidence… ❜

❛ You have the impetuousness of youth, and its arrogance, neither of which is to be desired in a king. ❜

❛ Have the indignities of your childhood not yet sufficiently been avenged? ❜

❛ To claim a dragon, you must also be prepared to die. ❜

❛ You can't possibly still be angry about this. ❜

❛ You weren't going to bid me farewell? ❜

❛ It is your way, is it not? When something does not please you, you run. ❜

❛ There are older things in this world than you or I, or living memory. ❜

❛ You are not the player, but a piece on the board. As am I, for that matter. ❜

❛ It is my fault, I think, that you have forgotten to fear me. ❜

❛ It was worth the risk, no matter the outcome. ❜

❛ The enemy without may be fought with swords. The enemy within is more insidious. ❜

❛ Do you take me for a fool? ❜

❛ Oh, you make an art of provoking me. ❜

❛ Stop wasting your life waiting for something that'll never come. ❜

❛ I'm sure you did your best. ❜

❛ They will underestimate you, and this will be your advantage. ❜

❛ If the gods call me to greater things, who am I to refuse them? ❜

❛ Nothing is clean here. ❜

❛ The order of things has changed. Why not embrace it? ❜

❛ It does seem to me that you've made rather a mess here. ❜

❛ I don't need their love. I need their swords. ❜

❛ Mind your tongue. ❜

❛ I mislike all of this. ❜

❛ It seems you need us more than we need you. ❜

❛ So, what was the fucking point in all this then? ❜

❛ It's best to live, I think. However you do it. ❜

❛ You are not alone. ❜

❛ Will you prepare to face such an enemy? Or will you stay here and make yourself easy? ❜

❛ If you hinder our efforts through sloth or unreadiness, I will see you hanged, and your body fed to the dogs in the street. ❜

❛ You've arrived just in time to see my new army. What do you think of it? ❜

❛ This place will have you barking at the moon. ❜

❛ We must all make our sacrifices. ❜

❛ 'Tis no longer our rule that is threatened, our very lives. ❜

❛ Perhaps all men are corrupt and true honor is a mist that melts in the morning. ❜

❛ The dragons dance, and men are like dust under their feet. ❜

❛ We march now toward our annihilation. ❜

❛ There will be time enough to see which one of us is a coward. ❜

❛ There are omens here for those who seek them. ❜

❛ It's all a story and you are but one part in it. You know your part. ❜

❛ I am meant to serve you, and all of these with me, until death or the end of our story. ❜

❛ Be strong. You know you are just. ❜

❛ History will paint you a villain. ❜

❛ I am at last myself, with no ambition greater than to walk where I please and to breathe the open air. To die unremarked and unnoticed and be free. ❜

❛ You speak as if from a distant dream. ❜

❛ Come with me. ❜

❛ My part is here, whether I will or no. It was decided for me long ago. ❜

[snoopyhughes]

to be loved is to be known: Joe burrow

hello and welcome to the next installment of to be loved is to be known. Sweet Joey just makes my heart happy. He is like Quinn a bit to me, not the best with words but will do just about anything to show you just how much he loves you. Apologies for the delay and if this seems choppy, I've been writing this since January LOL. I really wanted to get something out, it's briefly edited but I hope you all love it. 1.1k words, a few mentions of this being a fem!reader

to be loved is to be known...

Joey to me seems like someone who has no idea what to do with all the money he has (i.e. the Batmobile). In his eyes, he has everything he could ever want. Having you and loving you is the only thing he has ever wanted. This means that all he ever wants do is spend his money on YOU. There is absolutely nothing he could ever want more than making you happy. And yes, he knows that money does not buy happiness, but to see the beam in your eyes, the look on your face when he comes home with a new necklace, a pair of shoes you were eyeing, a restock of your favorite perfume, anything to make you happy, he is buying it for you.

You insist that you don't need anything extravagant. That just like him, you have all you could ever want with being able to love him and be with him. Unfortunately, Joe struggles with taking no for an answer when it comes to spoiling you. You technically have a rule that he can only buy you one gift a month because he has the tendency to buy you a gift every time he leaves the house. He doesn't always honor it, but it eases some of the guilt you feel that he probably spends your entire year's salary on gifts for you. Speaking of salaries...

to be loved is to be known...

As mentioned previously, Joe loves to spoil you. When you two had been together for a while and had moved in together, Joe didn't understand why you wanted to continue to work. He was naive and ignorant at the start, and sometimes lacked common sense. However, Joe would never dream of suggesting you quit your job anymore. He knows how much you value your sense of independence and pride as a strong woman and he loves that about you. Whatever you do for work, Joe supports you whole heartedly, through every good day and every bad day.

If you want to start a new business venture, Joe is throwing money at anything you talk about wanting. If you are a teacher, Joe comes in as much as he can to help out with your class, put things up in your classroom, leave treats and flowers in the teachers lounge, and absolutely loves sitting with you on your lunch break. You'd even have a reward called "Lunch with Mrs. and Mr. Burrow" where students can cash in their positive points for a lunch with the two of you. It is without a doubt your most popular prize.

And if you work in the medical field, Joe is constantly praising your hard work and helping you out at home however he can. Joe obviously can't scrub into surgery or help you take vitals, but he can make sure your life at home is as perfect as possible when you get back from a long day. And if the hospital or doctor's office you work at happens to get a large donation from an anonymous donor to build a renovated wing in the department you work in, well Joe is none the wiser.

to be loved is to be known...

I feel like Joe's main love language is quality time. As someone who is away a lot, I feel like he would never take the quality time for granted. Watching movies on the couch, making dinner together, building legos together on a rainy day, reading books side by side and annotating the margins for when you switch books when you're both done. Joe values quality time at home more than he values flashy gifts, and words of affirmation, and even physical touch, although I do think he can be a very touchy lover.

Joe is protective as a lion, but doesn't want to overwhelm you or think he doesn't trust you. He is protective in the subtle ways: walking on the side closest to the street, always holding your purse and being the one to get your drinks at the bar, keeping a soft hand on you at all times to keep you grounded and ensure that you are safe, both physically and emotionally when he is around, especially on nights with the team or at the crowded sporting events he loves. Speaking of...

to be loved is to be known...

Don't even get me started on Joe being with a sporty girl. You could be the most unathletic person on planet Earth, but if you love sports as much as he does, he will fall 100x harder. We all know how much Joe loves football, wrestling, car riding, etc. But if you loved a sport that Joe doesn't know much about, he would take it upon himself to learn every rule, every player on your favorite team, etc. And he doesn't care if that favorite team is in Cincinnati or if it's in California, you will have season tickets and go to as many games as you want. (That's what he has the private jet for, of course.)

to be loved is to be known...

Not to make this all about money and gifts (although Joe has the most money of any athlete I've ever followed lol), but I know Joe truly is a laidback person who values quality time and quality relationships more than any flashy car or thousand dollar outfit. He just wants to make you happy, however that may be. Neither of you need expensive gifts, or lavish date nights. All that matters to both of you is that you get to spend quality time together.

While he can be a flashy person, I think Joe also loves in a quiet way. Washing the sheets for you and making the bed because he knows you hate it, having food made for you when you get home from work on his off day, keeping your gas tank filled at all times and having his card linked to all of your shopping and food apps, making sure you are the most comfortable as you can be at his games, even if that means watching at home, wrapped up on the couch with the dog. Joe's life has become flashy, one for the cameras and spotlight, but none of that matters to him at the end of the day. What matters most to him is making you happy and seeing you smile everyday. I truly believe when he finds the person he loves the most in this world, he would give up anything if it meant he could make them happy. Joe is a fierce lover who would do anything for his loved ones, and I don't think that would stop at all when it comes to a partner, I think it would intensify.

[lovings4turn]

ᯓ★ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐖𝐎 (𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒)

— or, lando wants to make your birthday special from the start

+ aka. some short and sweet fluff about lando celebrating your birthday with you . considering this a little gift to the absolutely wonderful @wintfleur who turned twenty today !!!! happiest of birthdays bestie ,, i love you so much !!!

you're unsure of the time as your eyes slowly blink open, heavy with a good night of sleep. birthdays, you believe, are the perfect excuse to wake up whenever you feel like it, no alarms necessary.

just as you push yourself up onto your elbows, a loud yawn escaping your lips, the bedroom door moves ajar to reveal a smiling lando, hair still messy and tousled like it normally is in the mornings.

"ah, so you're finally awake," he teases, wasting no time in making his way over to your side of the bed. "i've been popping in and out every ten minutes for like, the past hour."

lando stoops down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, pushing your hair away from your face as he pulls back with a fond smile. as he takes in your barely awake form, you swear you can see the amount of love radiating from his features; it's damn near golden, and you bask in his glow. 

"happy birthday baby."

"thank you," you smile, puckering your lips up for one more kiss. lando would have to be heartless to deny the birthday girl, after all, and so he grants your wishes instantly. 

"as much as i'd love to stand here 'nd keep kissing you, i have something i need to do. someone's special day, apparently."

lando’s expression is mischievous, and he wiggles his eyebrows at you as he slowly backs towards the door. 

over the course of your relationship with lando, you’ve learnt one very crucial lesson: never question him. especially not in moments like these, when he clearly has a trick or two hidden up his sleeve. and so you allow him to slink away, your curiosity piqued as to what he could have planned for you.

gentle clattering and a few mumbled curse words provide background noise as you slowly wake up further, the haze of sleepiness lifting the longer you sit upright. phone in hand, you scroll through the barrage of birthday texts and messages from your friends and family. a wide smile tugs at your lips as you allow the excitement of the day to bubble below your skin, electric and bright.

you sniff once, then once again, as a sugary, warm scent floats through the half-open doorway. you can hear lando hiss a little as the sound of a pan clashing into the sink prompts a laugh to escape you.

it doesn’t take a genius to work it out: he’s cooking. what he’s making, though, is still to be revealed. it’s far too late for him to think about baking a cake for you, yet the scent is no where similar to his usual breakfast of eggs or toast.

“you okay?” you call out, mirth lacing your tone.

“perfect!” comes lando’s response. “just stay put, gorgeous, i won’t be long!”

convinced, you do as told. and god, is it worth the wait.

lando swiftly reappears, an adorably out of tune ‘happy birthday’ accompanying his arrival. a large gift bag hangs from his wrist, and balancing precariously in his hand is a plate of pancakes.

they’re quite clearly homemade, a little uneven in size and shape, and topped with copious amounts of fruit and cream. baby blue candles are stuck into the top of the stack, the flames flickering mildly, and you think you could cry.

lando has never made you feel anything less than the luckiest girl in the world, but in this moment, you truly have no idea what you’ve done to deserve him.

he places one foot in front of the other, all of his focus directed to delivering your birthday breakfast to your lap safely. as his song comes to an end, lando presents you with your pancakes, his bright grin another sweet side.

the gift bag is placed onto the ground, and lando perches next to you on your bed, hand resting on your knee above the bedsheets.

“happy birthday, baby,” lando says, voice sincere. “make a wish.”

and when you blow out the candles, you don’t even need to make a wish; all you could ever want is right in front of you.

[awellboiledicicle]

I wanna throw out a reccomendation for @shopwitchvamp's skirts and joggers.

For those of you who don't know, i'm fat. I have problems finding cloths that both fit and are cute. Them lasting against the gauntlet of my thighs rubbing together is a wholly separate concern that comes about 50 feet before the concern of if pockets exist in the thing. Somewhere in there is "and how long until the elastic cracks out and i'm screwed?" And that's not covering the sensory issues of if the fabric is ok or it'll feel like satan is rubbing his pubes on my skin every time i move.

I know well that i'm not the only big person to have these issues. I would wager it's common enough that several people are nodding along and waiting to see me go "and these clothes cover some of these issues".

HOWEVER

I would like to say that they cover ALL these issues very well!

First off: I first purchased a skirt from this store and generally assumed it'd be too small. Because even when things say they fit a certain size, i get skeptical. It not only fit over my belly comfortably-- the elastic not cutting in and sitting smoothly--but i could pull it up and the band would rest easily around my chest so I could wear the maxi skirt as a dress! It also has pockets that can fit my wallet, phone, keys, and nintendo switch. Granted, if you distribute them lopsided, it'll pull that way, but it is only a mortal garment. It's not a miracle worker. That said, i've had it for a year + and not only has the smooth texture not changed, but the elastic hasn't lost tension. It's been well worth the money.

Second off: the joggers. I purchased a pair of joggers with stars and moons and clouds. I believe it was one of the jester's patterns, but i could be wrong. Point is, i had yet another spike in trepidation because skirts? easier to not be a problem. And yet, the joggers not only fit very well, but stretch with little issue. The only problems i've ever run into was whenever i'd eaten/drank a lot and then did a lot of bending. Then the waistband would press in, but that's a folly of pants as a garment. The elastic continues to hold up, both on the waist and the ankles. They're breathable enough to wear during summer, but insulated enough that they're rapidly taking the place of the ol standard "jeans until you need layers". The pockets are also well sized, though not as spacious as the skirts. This is literally the only serious mark against them and that's on me trying to shove a switch in my pants pocket and kneel down to pet a cat.

THIRD: i ordered a jesters privilege tank top and the literal only downside i have with it is i overestimated the idea that it'd shrink with washing. Upside is that it makes my chest look GREAT when i wear it to see my partners. Does wonders as a sleep shirt. And if i tuck it in or wear a jacket over it, it does great at work too. There is less to talk about here, expressly because there are no pockets to review.

I will also shout out their quick customer service-- i once sent an ask about the drawstring in the joggers turning so the end of the string was inside the pants and i couldn't get it out. Within a few hours they responded with a solution to a problem that literally most people let alone companies wouldn't bother with.

"But Mok" you might say, dear assumed reader. "What's the catch? Do they cost an arm and a leg? Do they cost a soul? One pure and untarnished soul from a small child?"

They do not. That said, as someone with a lower income Witchvamp clothes are certainly a "save up for when what you want drops and then treat yourself" deal. They're worth the cost, though. I'd say it's well worth getting a couple pairs of joggers and a skirt for like $150 ONCE in a while, that will LAST and FIT and look nice, than continually dropping $20 on clothes that'll wear out in a season or less.

Also sometimes you get a free rock with your order.

Go forth.

[tociminna]

Baldur's Book Club, Episode Two: Natāre

Welcome back to Baldur's Book Club, where the gang gathers to snack and talk shit about various Forgotten Realms literature.

Episode 2: Natāre

AO3 link

Characters: Gale, Wyll (POV) and Shadowheart, with appearances by Astarion, Karlach, and Halsin

Book: A juicy bit of mermaid smut I invented (AKA a sequel to the book Wyll and Shadowheart discuss in Act 3 banter). Hijinks ensue. If you have ever had a strange desire to discuss meta-smut, this is for you.

Rating: Soft M for genital metaphors 😃

Word Count: 1.7k

The book had been Wyll's idea, following a conversation he'd had with Shadowheart about a book his father had kept stashed in a desk drawer, many years ago. It turned out they had both read The Salty Mermaid so many times as to have several sections fully memorized, so they had chosen its sequel, Waves of Ecstasy, for their book club meeting. 

Gale had been dubious, but ultimately the man could not refuse an invitation either to read or to talk about what he'd read. Wyll had a sneaking suspicion, based on a conversation he wished he had not overheard at Last Light Inn, that Gale was much better acquainted with salacious literature than he would publicly admit.

A bottle of Mermaid whiskey sat on the small table, three glasses arranged before it - his contribution. Gale was cooking, of course; Shadowheart had lifted her chin and said her trenchant commentary would have to be enough.

Astarion walked by, stopping to drop a brief kiss on his cheek. “Enjoy your silly book, dear man. I'm going to have a long bath.”

Warmth rose in Wyll - not quite arousal, not quite love, but a deep appreciation. A gratitude. He was grateful they had a place of relative safety such as this, a place where Astarion, who had long shied from any kind of vulnerability like a spooked horse, could rest and relax. He needed it. He deserved it.

“It's very sweet, you know,” Shadowheart said, coming in from the hall to sit across from Wyll. “The way you look at him. I believe the term is ‘moony-eyed’.”

“Ha. I see the trenchant commentary has arrived.”

Shadowheart smiled. “I am a woman of my word. Is Gale ready yet?”

“I think he will be soon. He said he was finishing up a few minutes ago.”

“The food last time was… well. Even if I hadn’t been interested in the book, this would be worth it.”

Wyll poured whiskey into all three glasses, topping up the last just as Gale arrived, levitating a tray before him. He placed it on the table, picking up a glass as he sat.

“Whiskey! Lovely,” he said, taking an appreciative sip. “And thematic, too.”

“What's the menu?” Shadowheart said, leaning forward and looking as if she were restraining the urge to rub her hands together in anticipation. The top of the dish looked to be mashed potato shaped into a fish, complete with scalloped scales and browned just so. 

“Fish pie,” Gale answered. “Needs to cool a bit before we can eat it.”

“Also thematic,” Wyll said. “Perhaps a touch… cannibalistic? Given the story is about a sentient bit of seafood.”

Gale shrugged. “Merfolk eat fish. Besides, Karlach has been going on and on about the pie at the Blushing Mermaid. I tried it last week.”

“And you thought you could do better,” Shadowheart said.

“I know I can do better. In fact, I'm quite sure I have. You’ll see.”

Karlach wandered in, eyes half-closed in bliss as she sniffed the air. “Do I smell fish pie?” she said, longing in her voice.

“You do,” Gale answered. “Sit and try some. I've made more than enough.”

“Gale, this has fins,” Shadowheart said, poking at it with a fork. “And a tail.”

“You can do a lot with flour and butter,” he said proudly. “Mix them into the usual potato and it's quite sculptable.”

“Does it have the heads in?” Karlach asked eagerly, sitting down.

Gale made a face. “No, that ruins the texture. The heads were used in making the stock.”

Wyll laughed. “Are we going to talk about it, or eat it? I'll grant it's quite lifelike.”

Substantial helpings were dished and served, and all conversation ceased. 

“Ye gods, man,” Wyll said, resisting an impulse to lick his empty plate, “that was sinful. You must have used a week's ration of butter.”

Shadowheart, working on a second helping, said nothing.

“Hmmm,” Karlach said, a note of doubt in her tone as she tapped her lower lip with her fork. “It's real good mate, don't get me wrong, but it's missing something.”

“He probably washed his hands before he started cooking it,” Shadowheart pointed out. “The Mermaid is not known for its attention to cleanliness.”

“It's good for the constitution!” Karlach said defensively. Gale looked between them, slightly green.

“I ate there last week,” he said. “Is it really that bad?”

“Let's just say the Blushing Mermaid’s initials are… evocative.”

Gale's greenish hue deepened.

“It was a week ago. You've survived it already,” Wyll said with a chuckle.

Karlach stood, patting Gale on the shoulder. “Anyway, good stuff. I'm off, have fun with your book thing!”

Dishes cleared, whiskey in hand, they leaned back. 

“So,” Wyll said, taking the lead. “Waves of Ecstasy.”

“Honestly?” Shadowheart took a sip. “I think it was a quick cash-in on the first volume. You can tell it was dashed off in a hurry.”

“The prose is certainly, er, rustic,” Gale said. 

“Are we really here for style, though?” Wyll asked. “Or for substance?”

Shadowheart laughed. “If by substance you mean dirty scenes, then absolutely substance.” 

“I don’t see why we can’t have both.”

“Gale, do you suppose there’s such an abundance of smutty mermaid literature that you can pick and choose?”

“Isn’t there?”

“Sadly, no,” Wyll answered, shaking his head in mock sorrow. “Centaurs have been all the rage lately. I haven’t seen a good mermaid tale in ages.”

Gale looked faintly horrified. “Centaurs? Is that safe?”

“It’s fiction. You can’t perforate your imagination, can you?”

“I suppose not.”

“Rustic prose or no, there were some enjoyable moments,” Shadowheart mused. 

“I certainly learned a few terms,” Wyll said, laughing at the memory. “I don’t believe I’ll ever forget ‘his fingers slipped gently into her bewitching bivalve’.”

Halsin, coming in through the main door, stopped when he overheard this. “Bewitching bivalve? Have you found clams for dinner?”

“Even better,” Shadowheart said. “We’ve found some naughty metaphors that are absolutely delicious. Come and see.” 

Halsin sat beside her, taking the book from her hand. He lit his pipe, the sweet-smelling smoke blending pleasantly with the aroma of whiskey, and began to read.

“Gale, did you have a favorite?” Wyll asked.

“None of them made sense,” Gale lamented. “I suppose ‘his jutting bowsprit bobbed in rhythm with the waves’ was rather obvious, if a bit too nautical for my liking. If one had never been on a boat that would have been a reach indeed.”

Shadowheart giggled. “My favorite was ‘she took shelter in her lover’s humid grotto’.” Next to her Halsin snorted and turned a page.

“It’s so nonspecific,” Gale complained. “Why, a grotto could represent any number of places, anatomically. It’s just a small, damp cave.”

Wyll joined Shadowheart in a fit of snickering. “That’s the point, isn’t it?”

“Oh, I like this one,” Halsin said, and cleared his throat to read aloud. “‘His dowsing rod found moisture, straining in his grasp.’”

Shadowheart choked on her whiskey, coughing and wheezing with laughter. Halsin patted her on the back until she recovered, still peering at the book.

“How is this position possible?” he asked. “Is one of them an octopus and I’ve missed it?”

“That happens rather a lot,” Wyll commented. “It’s easier if you stop trying to keep track of appendages.”

Gale shook his head, looking disappointed.

“What is it?” Wyll said.

“It's just…” Gale frowned and folded his arms. “The author clearly didn't bother to do a speck of research. How are we to suspend disbelief when there are so many glaring inaccuracies at the fore?”

“How would you know it's inaccurate?” Shadowheart asked. “How many times have you been up close and personal with one of the merfolk?”

“They are rather famously unfriendly,” Wyll added.

“Does it matter how I know? The point is the sloppy background work. It positively kills immersion.”

“Heh. Immersion, get it?” Shadowheart smirked, pointing both fingers at Gale, who rolled his eyes.

“You're just jealous she got to the pun before you did,” said Wyll. “And you haven't answered the question, though I'll go on record to say I'm not sure I want to know the answer.”

“Yes, come now, Gale,” Halsin said, puffing on his pipe and handing the book back to Shadowheart. “Even I do not know the… intricacies involved. Enlighten us.”

“Fine!” Gale threw his hands in the air. “True Polymorph is a thing, if you must know! If the author had a bit of integrity or commitment to proper research they could have asked any wizard!”

No one spoke. The only sound to be heard was Astarion splashing faintly in the bath and Scratch chewing on his favorite stick in the next room over.

In the interest of not focusing too sharply on the meaning of what he'd just heard, Wyll opted to nitpick.

“Not any wizard, surely. That spell is one of the most difficult out there. Only the highest order of casters can perform it.”

“Well, yes, obviously,” Gale said.

“I will guess that you yourself have attempted this, then?” Halsin asked.

A flush began to creep up Gale's neck. “It's all much more cumbersome than you'd expect. I shan't be providing details, except to say that the humanoid party either needs to use Alter Self to breathe underwater, or you have to Levitate several hundredweight of mermaid. Merman. Merperson. Rocks and sand do not make for a pleasant experience, either.”

Another silence, this one longer and heavy with speculation.

“I'm never going to be able to read this book again,” Shadowheart said wistfully, placing it back on the table.

“Is Alter Self something you find useful in that regard? In a more general sense?” Halsin asked. “It is not nature magic, but I have always been curious.”

Gale opened his mouth to answer. 

“Don't answer that,” Wyll said hastily, suppressing an urge to cover his ears. “We're all very grateful for that little hut of yours. What happens there needs to stay there.”

“Gods, I know,” Shadowheart said, wrinkling her nose. “It'd be like hearing your parents. Or so I'm told.”

“You're older than I am!” Gale cried, indignant.

“Most fish do not possess matching, er, equipment.” Halsin was still thoughtfully working away at his pipe. “Does the transformation require a more mammalian type for compatibility? Say, a dolphin tail, rather than a fish?”

“You'd be surprised at how far you can stretch the -”

“All right!” Wyll clapped his hands, drawing everyone’s attention. “Book club has been wonderful, hasn’t it? But now it’s over.”

“Thanks be,” Shadowheart said. “Is there any whiskey left?”

Tagging @12thhouse-sun, @residentdormouse, @optimisticgrey, @lemonwoodwrites, @aoifethephoenixqueen

[aeternallis]

Kim's Motivations vs Privileges // A Meta Rant

This has been sitting in my drafts for a while, so I figured I'd post it~

I’ve talked a little bit about Kim’s place in the mafia before, but I don’t think I ever got into detail as to what his motivations are, in regards to being part of a known crime family in Bangkok. So I figured I’d talk about it, since I’ve been mulling it over for the past eight months or so!

So, one of the most common takes I’ve seen in the fandom (from where I’m sitting, anyway) that feels like it's often taken for granted is that Kim is interpreted as actively trying to get away from the mafia. Or if not that, already out of it completely.

More specifically, from his family.

And meh, honestly? Who tf knows what goes on in this guy’s head, lmao! While I admit that it can be argued there is some evidence for this, I’m more personally inclined to think that Kim’s privileges as the youngest son and his personal motivations are—more often than not—misconstrued.

Now, just to be clear, I'm not totally against the idea of Kim being out of the family business/trying to get out of the mafia. On the contrary, it's a neat headcanon to explore, both in the realm of fanfiction and as a way of understanding his character arc when watching the show. What I'm more iffy on though is the fact that there are a number of cultural aspects to this idea that I feel like are—not willfully disregarded, per se, but there is a bit of a western bias to it.

And before I go on, my usual disclaimers

I’m not calling out or policing anyone; this meta is just an opinion at the end of the day, and something that I've been thinking about for a long time, so I thought it would be good to get it down succinctly. Y'all headcanon him in the myriad of ways you want, even if that includes him distancing himself from the mafia ongoings of the Theerapanyakul family. You do you, since that’s what fandom is for! Besides that, I can happily acknowledge that it makes for some delicious fic drama~

Culture is never static, it's an ever-changing set of mindsets and values, and by no means should it ever be seen as the be all end all when it comes to this sort of discussion.

I'm Filipino (more specifically, Filipino-Chinese ancestry), not Thai, the two cultures are very distinct in their own ways. There are cultural overlaps, but otherwise, these are only my opinions as a SE Asian, and in no way meant to be seen as a full authority on the subject, as lived experiences differ greatly even amongst those who grew up within the culture in question, or adjacent to it.

Having said all that, this rant is examining Kim's privileges in the context of Asian family dynamics and cultural traditions, and taking into account as to what those said privileges he enjoys could possibly motivate him to do. I'm also gonna include some novel bits, so if you haven’t read the book, here’s your obligatory spoiler alert warning, as well as my one plea of “please don’t attack me for reading the book and using it as part of my basis in arguing my thesis.”

But I digress!

In regards to my claim, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing; if anything, it goes to show how effective BOC, Daemi, and Jeff were in developing his character, that the Kim we see in the show embodies a key characteristic of his that’s very loyal to the original novel: his thoughts and motives are often hard to read, and even his own family members have trouble trying to understand what he’s really thinking.

I for one can definitely say that Jeff leaned heavily into Kim's character archetype of a cool and mysterious love interest, which we do see a little bit in the book.

As we see below, per Korn:

Like in the show as well as the book, the audience doesn’t really know what Kim is thinking.

(Just as a little side note, even within fandom, I think that's probably part of the reason he gets such a bad rap—yknow, outside the Kimchay community—and on the other side of that, there are sometimes conflicting interpretations (which is a good thing, we're engaging critically with the media!) in regards to what motivated him to make the decisions he did.)

He’s not a main POV character in the show, so his motivations are pretty murky, since it can be argued just as easily that his sleuthing behind the scenes can be seen as a way of strengthening his own position within the family, as it is his own efforts in protecting his brothers.

Perhaps it’s both or more than that—or hell, perhaps none of those things; it’s not as if he’s only allowed one or just those motivations, right?

Having said that, what the audience does know about Kim and can confirm, are the privileges he enjoys as the third son:

he was able to move out early and live on his own

he does not have as many bodyguards, which enables him to go sleuthing behind Korn’s back

he has the freedom to pursue a career in music, since that’s his main interest

In and of itself, the privileges Kim enjoys, if anything—demonstrate a lifestyle in which he is neither trying to run away from the shadows of the Theerapanyakul family’s infamy, nor is he really trying to gain a foothold within the mafia’s hierarchy in order to up one, or all of them. And I believe that's the entire point of his character, because we're not supposed to understand what he's thinking.

The way I see it, Kim enjoys the privileges as mentioned above because of the fact that he’s the third son of the top mafia family in Thailand, not the other way around. And because I see them more as privileges, they don't necessarily mean anything in terms of what motivates his actions.

There’s a few reasons for this:

Pursuing the Arts and Asian Style of Parenting

There’s a bit of a negative stigma in Asian cultures in general when it comes to pursuing the arts. Mind you, this isn’t unique to Asians, but it’s also a much more noticeable sentiment in Asia (i.e. the stereotype of Asian tiger parents wanting their kids to pursue something that contributes to society and makes a solid income, like doctors and lawyers). Asian parents in general tend to be overprotective and controlling of their children’s futures, and there’s still a relatively pervasive idea that one’s education is strictly tied to their lifelong career.

We see this in a multitude of ways in the show: for example, when Kinn first brings up his interest in music to Porsche during their ep. 6 forest adventure, he speculates on his father paying off the judges in the music competition he’d participated in. Even if at the time, Tankhun would presumably have still been the heir and Kinn was freely allowed to participate in the event, Korn exerted a tremendous level of control to ensure that Kinn came out on top, irrespective of how Kinn himself would feel about this.

Another example: Chay himself is willing to give up a college education, let alone study music, due to having seen how much Porsche struggles to financially provide for both of them. In the scene below, he makes it known that he's open to the idea of using the last of his parents' savings for his education in order to move some place else.

For Chay, the prospect of college is in and of itself a privilege they can't afford and at large, speaks very much to the wealth gap and inequality that still exists in Thailand, as it does for other Asian countries. It's not hard to understand why Chay is easily able to give up the opportunity of the oral interview in his dream school, besides just being heartbroken—he's always been more willing to face a reality of lifelong struggle, so long as it means he and his brother are together.

It's only because of Chay's own obedience to Porsche and his respect for him, that he even makes a show of going to the interview, rather than outright admitting to Porsche that he's no longer interested in going to that particular school. His short stint of teenage rebellion in the second half of the show is hidden from Porsche, in order to maintain the illusion that he's following the path Porsche specifically worked hard to set up for him.

Of course it goes without saying, this is no way meant to discredit Kim's work and effort to maintain a career in the entertainment industry, free of his family's influence or financial manipulation in that field. What I will say however, is that Kim's access to wealth, as well as the freedom afforded to him, allowed him to pursue his passion in music with significantly fewer obstacles, in comparison to Chay—enough so that the negative stigma is a bit of a moot point.

And we all have some idea of how Gun views Vegas’ culinary interests. :’D

Traditional Gender Role(s) and Internal Sexism

If we were to compare Kim's situation with any other character that would have been in somewhat similar circumstances regarding "leaving the family business," the only one that comes close to fitting the bill is Nampheung. Arguably we could also count Macau in terms of the lack of family involvement, but presumably since Macau still relies on his father and brother financially to support him, I'm leaving him out.

In the flashback scene with Nampheung, we see indicators of a contented life she's already begun to lead, away from the Theerapanyakul household: she's married with two kids, her husband runs a successful business, she manages to find time to pursue her passion in art, etc.

For all intents and purposes, she lives independently, and seemingly without having to rely on her adoptive brothers and father.

And yet, we know how Nampheung's story plays out, regardless of which brother pulled the trigger.

Mind you, although Korn and Gun's reason(s) for wanting Nampheung to return to the Theerapanyakul household has less to do with her sex and more to do with what she and her husband knows (whatever the heck that means, lol), it doesn't mean that a double standard, when compared to Kim's own living situation, isn't baked into it.

(And again, before I continue: this is in no way discrediting Thailand's efforts in furthering gender equality at large. The Thai government has made significant strides in improving women's rights, particularly in the work force. Despite this however, challenges still remain to this day, as do for most countries, when it comes to this particular issue.)

Why is it that Nampheung—a woman who was able to make a life for herself completely free of the Theerapanyakuls' influence—was still forced to return with Korn and the danger of being involved with the Theerapanyakuls, and yet Kim—who we can argue still benefits greatly from his family's (ill-gotten) wealth—is somehow able to more fully enjoy the freedom Nampheung could have only dreamed of and experienced for a short time?

In the same episode when Porsche reunites with his mother under the worst of circumstances, Gun makes a plea towards Nampheung to return to him, that he would be the one to protect her. The scene paints Nampheung as a damsel very much in distress, and though Gun claims to love her, he still treats her as a prize to be won, to take his side in their family conflict.

The framing of this theme in the show, of "trying to get away from the family," is gritty at best, heartachingly frustrating at worst.

I think this in particular is part of the reason why I'm less inclined to believe that Kim moved out strictly to not involve himself in the business. Like, for my own peace of mind, I try to temper this point (perhaps to my own detriment), yknow?

Personally, I feel like since Kim is able to live comfortably outside the family compound and pursue his music career, there would have had to be some sort of return or condition for this to be allowed (one of them being, he knows how to fight and protect himself).

After all, as Korn himself said:

Filial Piety and Birth Order

I've talked about this plenty of times before, so I won't get too deep into it (haha), but this perhaps plays the biggest role in what is disregarded in the "western bias" I spoke of earlier.

As a working definition, filial piety means showing care, gratitude, and obedience to your elders, be it one's parents, grandparents, ancestors, etc etc. This virtue is one of the most important cultural aspects in Thai culture, as well as other Asian cultures, and underpins the very bedrock of our communities.

I've written out another rant before that Porsche's initial judgement of Kim moving out of the family home hints very much at not only his own specific veneration of the family unit, but his internal biases in the way he sees how a family should function.

TL;DR: Kim moving out is something that Porsche does not see as a good thing whatsoever, despite his own misgivings about the Theerapanyakul family, when he first starts working for them. Porsche sees Kim's actions as being egotistical and self-serving, and to a certain extent, unfilial towards his family.

And part of this filial piety is the obligation that in their parents' old age, children are expected to take care of them. We see this in a couple of different ways in how Kim behaves towards Korn:

In the first and only scene they have together, Kim brings Korn one of his favorite snacks, to show consideration towards his father while stopping by for a visit, since his main objective (besides snooping around) was to ask Korn why Big was assigned to him.

Although the highlight of the scene shows the very mutual distrust between father and son, Kim still shows how dutiful he is towards Korn. He makes a point to show that he's very aware of his father's preferences in many different things: his food, his requirements when hiring bodyguards, hell—even the way Korn organizes his private space and his use of secret cuckoo clocks to open locked drawers, lolol.

The filial piety he exhibits towards Korn is, to a certain degree, very much a front. Yet its very role as a front in how Kim interacts with his father is telling of how much there exists a familial hierarchy between them, and that Kim still respects and is a product of his upbringing. He's not openly hostile against Korn, or even against whatever Korn has up his sleeve with Porsche's employment; if you think about it, at least up until Kim realizes he's fallen in love with Chay, Kim has the least to worry about with Korn's intentions in hiring Porsche.

Theoretically, anyway.

Another point, for which I've brought up before in another meta: at the end of the day, Kim is unable to actually disobey his father, as shown in this scene when Chan comes down to escort Kim to see Korn.

While there are definitely times in the show that Kim plays at straddling the line between filial piety for show and disobedient, spoiled child, at the end of the day, the deference he feels compelled to show Korn is still a leash around his neck. Even in this scene where Chay has gone missing along with Porsche, Kim cannot yet, if ever, cross that almost insurmountable boundary of actually going against Korn's word.

Especially given the context of this scene, at the eve of the Minor Family's coup.

In fact, I could even go so far as to say that perhaps another one of Korn's conditions for allowing Kim to live away from the compound, is Kim's obedience.

To be honest, Kim's place in the familial hierarchy of the Main Family is very much a double-edged sword, in that his position as the third son is simultaneously the place of least expectations from Korn, and thus, the one with the most freedom, yet also the last bastion of Korn's hopes and expectations for their family, should Kinn become unable to perform his job as the current heir.

The way I see it, though Kim doesn't have the pressure of running the mafia empire, he still carries the weight of authority that his name represents, and Korn (as well as the very environment and culture that he grew up in) holds Kim to that, as his father, as the one in position of authority in their family.

In retrospect, I think that's part of the reason BOC chose to elevate Kimchay's love story as much as possible, despite their story being almost entirely absent in the first novel the show is based off of.

Kim needed to be humbled by falling in love with Chay, because he too carries the weight of power like Vegas and Kinn. And like the other two men, he needed to understand what it meant to have a weakness.

(As a side note too, in terms of tropes in fiction, Kim's position in the hierarchy actually fits a number of them: Youngest Child Wins, Rule of Three, and Underdogs Never Lose.)

Conclusion

Kim, for me personally, is such an intriguing character because he represents both what Tankhun has long forgotten (and perhaps never even had in the first place—ambitions of his own, a passion to pursue outside of his family), as well as what Kinn had lost, when he took up the mantle.

Personally, I think the fact that he has these privileges—being able to live outside the compound, not having to involve himself in the tedious running of their family businesses, etc—gives him more reason to stay within the fold of the Theerapanyakul family (despite his emotional distance), not less, even if we don't take Chay into consideration.

We may not know what Kim is thinking, but beneath his aloof exterior, I'd like to think that, at least when it comes to his brothers and his father, he's not entirely self-serving (Chay is a different story, lmao).

Because again, at the end of the day, although Kim enjoys a lot more freedom compared to his two older brothers, there are still a lot of familial ties and obligations—forged and solidified by his upbringing and the culture he lives in—that even his genuine love for music and his burgeoning idol career can't fully replace or throw away.

[ronearoundblindly]

Okay, so, hear me out.

I know I've got a Beauty and the Beast AU coming for skinny!Steve, but @darsynia gave me/let me have this idea of a Cinderella AU with him, too, except he is the Cinderella character who gets transformed to live his dream for a day.

I present to you the setup of:

*All photos from Pinterest

Steven is the only child of an exiled prince, and due to happenstance of the aged Warrior King Phillips having no male heir of his own, Steve becomes true royalty overnight.

His cousins, Princesses Margaret and Sharon, angry at the circumstance of their demotions at court, offer no help to the young, small, and often sickly new king.

No one is allowed to see him until his coronation. The few knights and advisors who have laid eyes on Steve are sworn to secrecy, and though he has a mind for strategy, Steve is burdened by his appearance.

Given the coronation crown the night before the big ceremony, Steve stares deep into the massive yellow gem at its front and wishes to look like the "ruler they all want to see."

And he does.

He wears the heavy crown easily, he stands tall over most of the court, and he carries a heavy, steel sword at his hip for the first time ever without the blade dragging across the stone floor.

The court is elated. No one looks twice, not even the handful of men who knew, but that's the magic of the stone...

Steve meets a seemingly endless stream of people, but the most curious is the apprentice of King Phillips' military advisor, a young man he saw befriending a stray cat in the courtyard while everyone else ogled and angled for him. The apprentice's eyes...there's just something about them...

After a long celebration feast where he charmed the nobility with humility, practicality, and honor, Steve falls asleep small again, but certain he can win over the whole realm if he can simply be known for his actions, not his physique.

That becomes the plan; Steve will work behind the scenes, make the kingdom better for people high and low, and then he'll be loved and accepted for who he is. In the meantime, he, in his natural form, can act as a sort of messenger or page boy 'for King Steven' and move around freely. Why not? They all are on the lookout for a man standing two hands higher and broader than him.

One of his first visits is to his inherited military advisor. Of course, Steve doesn't expect the apprentice to live inside the family home, possibly somewhere on the estate maybe, but after a long ride to get there and a long discussion while sitting in the man's study, Steve asks if he might walk the garden before leaving.

He asks about the woman by the roses, and his advisor simply replies "that's my daughter."

Of course, he won't bother to introduce him. Steve's an untitled nobody like he's been his entire life thus far.

Steve might not have seen the resemblance, truly, if not for the exact movement of your finger to gently lift a wilting petal back into place.

It's the move the apprentice made when scratching beneath the cat's chin, and he'll never forget that smile.

"You," he blurts, startled at the otherwise drastic change in your appearance.

You jump back before composing yourself, shielding your eyes from the bright sun above as you look him over.

He's more alarmed by your curtsy than you are by him, watching you bow deeply where moments ago your father dismissed him offhand.

"Your Majesty," you say to the ground.

You...

You recognize him like this? How? How is that possible?

His wish was granted. They all saw a perfect soldier, but that's just the thing: you didn't want to be ruled by a perfect soldier.

You wanted a good man.

You, who secretly longs to offer more to your father and family than a bartering chip for marriage, same as his cousins, need the king to be a good man because then he'll understand this...

A/N: Ok, full disclosure, I might already be very protective of this one, so we'll see if I can bring myself to put it all out there. Anyway! Thank you for the gif, Brandy! It was a great opportunity to get this down.

Also, if it's just an idea/intro, do I include the taglist? Idk. I hate pinging y'all if it's not like a lot of content.

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[disastrouscanasta]

@evidenceof happy christmas yna!!!! i was your secret santa this year, and it was an absolute BLAST! you were the best giftee, very thorough in your answers to my asks, and if i didn't need to maintain anonymity for so long, i would have picked your brain on soooo many of your wonderful thoughts. YOU UNDERSTAND ALL THE PAIRINGS SO WELL, and literally every prompt and idea you gave me was SO amazing, and incredible to explore. thank you for being so lovely <3 for you, i have a fic that i've worked on over the past few weeks, inspired by your prompts!

A Busy Blur | runner/leckie | 2k | post-war, developing relationship, a touch of epistolary & long-distance love

**

“You’ll write to me, won’t you Cobber?” Runner said, a playful lilt in his voice. Leckie could have sworn he caught a flash of something more vulnerable, more honest, from around the bags under his eyes, under the furrow of Runner’s brow. 

“If you learn how to read, sure.” Leckie said.

And Runner laughed, mouth splitting open in a bright smile that drew Leckie’s attention away from the bruises and the sling his friend’s arm was suspended in.

**

The first letter was simple.

Leckie,

I bet you’re home safe, now. And if you’re not, well, that’s your fault for being the only idiot sonofabitch to get hurt on the train ride from the harbour, instead of being killed by artillery. Somehow, that sounds about right.

Hope the mailing address is right,

Conley.

Leckie smiled wide when he read it, forgetting that he was sitting across from his stone-faced father at the table, half-eaten eggs forgotten in front of him when he had Runner’s letter in his hands.

“Did you get a cheque?” His father asked, speaking up for the first time since he’d come into the dining room and filled the seat at the far side of the table, away from his son.

“No,” Leckie answered simply. If his mother was there, she might have pried, probably asked about a girl, she’d have put just an inch more effort than his dad ever had.

His father made a short grunting sound before turning back to his paper.

(He read the Philadelphia Inquirer. Leckie himself worked for the Philadelphia Record. Figures.)

**

Leckie kept a notebook on him at all times, but he used it most at sports games, taking notes on the plays and activity of the baseball season. The notepad was filled with shorthand accounts of who was doing best, who was doing the worst, teams and rosters and everything he could come up with.

Some days (most,) he wasn’t granted the privilege of good seats, or even tickets to whatever sport was being played. But he had to write the damn article, anyway. So he sat by the radio, listening to the play-by-play accounts as they happened, with their paper’s roster open on the table in front of him.

His notebook looked something like this:

23/04/‘46

NY Giants vs. P. P.

JUDD, Oscar - pitching.

^ 3 SO

NORTHEY, Ron - batting

^ Home run, flyball to deep RF

SEMINICK, Andy - batting

^ Single, F. MCCORMICK SCORES

Playtime : 2hrs 14mins

PS: tell Runner about the weather

**

He’d been surprised at how easy it was to slip back into camaraderie with Runner.

But then again it had been easy on the boat, too, when—

Well, that was in the past. And even if there had been a few road bumps, they had never stopped being friends.

The war being over, reassuringly, didn’t stop that.

**

Runner,

He wrote at the start of his response, and paused. 

Runner’s letter sat next to him on his desk, under the warm light of the lamp. It had been dark for hours, and Leckie just couldn’t bring himself to put anything on the page until nearly midnight.

That letter had started with Leckie, and wasn’t that awfully formal? They’d gotten to know each other more intimately than most people would ever manage and— Leckie. It was impersonal. He’d expected something more ridiculous, Peaches, Cobber, something like that.

Leckie was sticking with Runner, for his own purposes.

(It had taken everything in him not to write Dear Vera. Less out of intent, and more out of habit. He’d never sent her any of his letters, and by the time he got him, she was already married. She looked happy, at least.)

Runner,

Got home in one piece. Based on your letter, and the fact that that chicken-scratch is unmistakably yours, I’ll guess that you’re alright stateside.

Since we haven’t got a war to talk about, I’m telling you a bit about work (a bit of complaining, so that you know it’s really me.)

The Philly Phillips won, 5-2. The paper made me sit by the radio box and take notes like some kind of spook, you’d think I work for the Russians, if you saw me hunched over my notebook like that. Last week, they got me a ticket to the actual game. We lost, with three points down. I think I’m cursed, if my presence makes the team lose.

Whatever. It’s still better than scraping out a latrine, with you sorry folks for company.

Leckie.

He posted it in the morning, and tucked Runner's letter away in his drawer.

**

Hoosier promised to write, so did Chuckler, and that Phillips kid, but ultimately, every time he got handed a personal letter by the postman, it was always, always, from Runner.

It felt ridiculous. He’d gone a whole war with those fellas, and they didn’t say so much as hello? But hey, what was he supposed to do?

(Their mailing addresses were tucked away in the same drawer that he kept any letters he got from Runner. They had his, he had theirs, and maybe his was part of some ongoing game of Chicken that he was playing with Hoosier. Either way, Runner didn’t care.)

Cobber,

The newest letter said, because Runner had quit with the Leckie pretence and cut to the chase with the stupid nicknames. Leckie couldn’t help but feel relief. Too many people had called him by his surname in the Marines. And back home, too many people called him Bob. Runner managed to find that surprising middle ground, by letting Leckie be someone else completely, just for a moment.

I’ve got a reason to write this, for once. Today, is Memorial Day. Which, as far as I’m concerned, is the government telling me to take the day off and get wasted, flashing that little veteran’s tag to get a discount at my local drink house.

Now, you’ll get this on, what? Beginning of June? Take some time for yourself, have a drink. (I’m not paying, though. That’s up to you, and your fancy paper job.)

Runner

If there was one thing that Leckie could be assured about, it’s that Runner’s letters would make him smile. He started reading them in his bedroom, instead of cracking the letter open in the dining room, where his parents had to see.

Everyone seemed to expect him to have left the war overseas. And it might have been over, but he couldn’t help but yearn for something that he’d had then. Not war, but something that had been so closely linked with the brutality of it all, that he didn’t think he’d be able to articulate it to anyone.

Maybe, he pondered, Runner understood him. Runner had understood him better than a lot of people had. On the boat ride home from that Australian hospital—

Runner just got it.

**

Runner,

He started, a couple weeks later.

You should get this by July 4th, and I wish you a good Independence Day. Go to a barbecue, wear your dress blues, go to a banquet. 

I hope it’s better for you than it will be for me. My parents are leaving me all alone to spend time with my brother and his wife, a couple towns over. I’m expecting to spend the night tucked up in my bedroom, shouting bah, humbug! everytime I hear fireworks. I hope the reference doesn’t go over your head— I can explain it in my next letter.

Leckie

**

The Fourth of July was more miserable than he’d expected. The commotion stirred up more in Leckie’s chest than he wanted to admit. The fireworks were too loud, and July was too hot. He laid on his childhood bed in nothing but his boxers, staring up at the ceiling, working through his third glass of beer.

At some point, he got up, pulled a paper from his desk and started writing.

Runner,

These damn holidays might be more exciting if you got closer.

There’s a good bar near my work, they do swing dancing on Thursday nights: I’m sure it’s your venue. You’re the best dancer I know!

I hope you can hear the sarcasm.

I won’t pick Hoosier over you, this time.

Leckie.

In the morning, after a cup of coffee and an aspirin for his headache, he read it through (as well as a typed page-and-a-half of hazy memories from Mbanika, which he crumpled into a ball and tossed under his bed.) and tucked it carefully into the drawer with Runner’s letters.

He didn’t really want to think too hard about all that.

**

Peaches,

I got the reference, thanks. I like to think you have those big mutton chops that I remember from those old pictures. You’re called Peaches, but you’re not all that sweet, are you?

That’s not a real question. I know the answer.

Hope your Independence Day was as boring as mine. I forgot how loud those things were.

Runner

**

Leckie couldn’t stop writing them. Stupid, ridiculous messages that really meant nothing.

He put them in his drawer, tucked away just in case he ever needed it. Leckie didn’t think it was vain, but some of them were well written. He didn’t feel that too often, so he kept them.

**

I saw a guy with your haircut, made me look twice just to be sure. I should have known it wasn’t you; he was taller.

That one was scribbled in his work notebook, while he was at the game (Phillips vs. Chicago Cubs), and the audience clapped and jeered around him.

You’re a marine, but how well can you swim? I’ve never asked.

Leckie wrote that question on a napkin in a diner. His pen ripped through it at the end.

**

I miss the boys. I miss you.

He didn’t write that one, but he heard it reverberating in his head when he flicked the lamp off. It was burned into the backs of his eyelids, anyway.

I miss you.

He was surprised that he meant it.

**

Professor,

That was how Runner opened his next message. It made Leckie smile. (Of course it did. They all did.)

Why DO we celebrate Labour Day? I saw them putting streamers and banners and what-not up in the streets today. New York City is a funny beast— you should come by, watch the parade.

Hope you get a day off work, and some time to yourself. (I’m still not paying for your drinks)

Runner

Leckie stared at that message for longer than he had any right to. By the time he sent his reply, Labour Day had passed, and he could only wonder what Runner had meant by any of it.

**

Runner,

I’ve got to come up with something more exciting for you. It’s difficult when I can’t see all the ridiculous shit you’re getting yourself into. And you don’t have the inclination to write it to me, I bet.

I’d call you a coward, but you’d call me one right back. Have you ever realised that we bicker like school children?

Leckie

**

To the man who mocks me,

Yeah, well, it’s hard to come up with nicknames for you too. That one just now was shit.

You want to know what I’ve been up to? Really? Well, I’ve got a job at the steelworks, which is great and all. Except I ran into a piece of machinery the other day, busted my lip wide open. There was a hell of a lot of blood. I think the 16-year-old kid who works next to me fainted. How’s that?

We’re both cowards, so what? We served our damn country.

Buster (I sure buster’ed my lip open. Get it?)

**

Bruiser,

All I have to say is that: you’re an idiot!

Yours,

The brilliant professor who’s kept himself out of danger

**

Leckie thought about Runner too much, he realised.

Some part of him was always waiting for the next letter, waiting to write, to come up with something short and stupid to say to the man, just so that he could imagine Runner’s familiar laugh.

Shit. Leckie thought, as he folded up another half-drafted, but unsendable letter.

**

Professor,

Tell me a story, if you’re so wise.

Your bruised-lipped-friend,

Runner

**

Runner,

If you really want to know, I’ve been more of an idiot to you.

My mother asked me this morning if I was getting married soon. I told her no.

She said that she thought I had been in contact with “that lovely girl from across the street,” and the woman she meant was the dearest Vera that everyone was so tired of hearing about. I had to break my mother’s heart and tell her that Vera moved away months ago, and that she was already married— to an army man, no less.

The old woman was more distraught about it than I was. Turns out she thought that Vera and you were one in the same. I’m surprised she never sent you an engagement present.

Leckie.

**

Leckie,

Hell, why didn’t you say so? I would have acted soppier.

In that case, you should come to New York this November and visit your sweetheart, how’s that?

Runner

**

Leckie blinked at that, then he stared for a long time, hoping to make sense of it all.

**

Runner,

November’s no good, I’m all booked up. How’s early December?

Leckie

**

To a difficult guest,

I guess I can fit you into my busy schedule.

I’ll see you in three weeks, then?

Runner.

**

Leckie booked a train ticket before he could convince himself otherwise.

Then, he stuffed a handful of his little messages into an envelope, scribbled Runner’s address, and mailed it all without a second thought.

Five days letter, he got an envelope back, inside, with no signature, was something simple, etched in Runner’s charming chicken-scratch:

We should have done all this in February. I would have wished you a happy Valentine’s.

[precuredaily]

Precure Daily's Seventh Anniversary

Seven. Years. I never fathomed this. Granted, it's not that I've done a whole lot in the last year except make empty promises, but I'm still alive, that counts for something. Precure was in an entirely different era when I began this, and now we are halfway through the third decade of the 21st century, and the third decade of Precure.

I know I say this every year but I didn't think I'd still be around this long when I started. The reason why has changed, but nonetheless, I didn't think I'd be here, and I'm still here, and that's pretty cool. I only published a handful of reviews last year, and have been kicking the last 4 episodes of 5 GoGo down the road for the better part of a year, but I have a plan.

I know I've spoken about my history before, but if you're new here, it goes something like this. I had the idea of watching all of Precure from the beginning kicking around in my head for a year or two before it finally came to fruition. As the 15th anniversary at the time, HUGtto felt like a good time to start going back April 10 was not a special day by any means, it's just the day I decided to sit down and watch FWPC episode 1. Initially I was just sharing my thoughts in a Facebook group, but I wanted it to be searchable and easily archived, so after about a week I moved over to Tumblr. FWPC season 1 is the only series I was able to watch consistently on time, around the time of Max Heart I began slipping a little more, Splash Star was hard to juggle with a new job, and I'll use COVID as my excuse for 5 and GoGo taking as long as they have. Also, the increased screenshots and desire to say more and contextualize more... it all got out of control, it's a beast of my own creation, and that's also why it fell apart. But I'll see it through to the end of GoGo.

As for what's happened in the last year of Precure for me....

Me and my friends finished Delicious Party as promised. I was being overly hard on it, the last arc was pretty good. I still don't think I'd rank it in the top 10, but it's fine. I didn't like them completely sidelining Black Pepper for the final fight, he could have been their Tuxedo Mask, but it we would get Wing the next year, so as a half step it's at least good that he was around for a lot of the show.

I was initially very dismissive of Wonderful, but even by this time last year I had started to warm up to it. I said then: "I don't think it's going to crack my top 10 but it should be a solid middle of the road series." I don't know where I'd place it, ultimately, but it's a quality series that broke some boundaries for the franchise. I haven't seen the movie yet, I hear it's very good.

Precure celebrated 1000 episodes! That's incredible. It's up there with One Piece and Case Closed in length now.

I still have not watched Otona Precure, I intend to watch if after I finish the reviews for GoGo and maybe share my thoughts on this blog as an epilogue. I HAVE watched....

Maho Girls Precure Mirai Days. I should rewatch it, in fact, because I kind of lost the plot at the end, but the central message about growing up and not getting stuck in the past is nice. I needed it. My main complaint are that the short length means the new designs for Ruby, Sapphire, and Topaz style don't get much time to shine since they so often go back to their primary Pink Diamond style; and that their young adult designs do not look different enough from their middle school designs, despite how drastically people tend to change between those ages.

I also rewatched Go! Princess Precure with my friends recently, which I consider my personal favorite series. It holds up quite well. Maybe I'll write about it someday.

I watched up to episode 3 of You & Idol Precure, but have not yet had the opportunity to continue. I hear good things about it, and it seems like a nice return to form for the series. I'll try to pick it back up soon.

Since I haven't seen much precure, I'm going to go ahead and talk about another project that's consumed a lot of my free time. I actually began this in 2024, but didn't mention it last year. I have been on a daily binge, watching the first entry of every tokusatsu franchise in order, since January 2024. I've gotten through Ultra Q, Ultraman, Kamen Rider (1971), Goranger, Kikaider, Red Baron, Space Sheriff Gavan, Gridman, and I'm currently working on Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon, the 2003 live action series. This has certainly contributed to the delay in PCD. I haven't been 100% consistent with watching every episode of that project ON the day, I've fallen behind and caught back up, but what's important is that I HAVE caught up and been able to maintain the schedule. It helps that I'm not writing about it. It makes me think of an alternate timeline where PCD never moved off of facebook, or where I kept watching but stopped writing about it, maybe I would have caught up. But whatever. I don't regret the choices that brought me here, I made some real friends through this project, and I'm forever grateful for that.

Lastly, here's my TV and film recommendations from the last year.

Dan da Dan

Delicious in Dungeon

Brave Bang Bravern

Girls Band Cry

Look Back

Flow

Thanks as always to my friends that I made through this project and those who continue to support me: SailorZombieStar, VertixScribe, Painted Outlaw, Amara Wolfe, and Nono-Bunny; as well as all my followers. I wouldn't be here without you.

Previous posts:

First Anniversary

Second Anniversary

Third Anniversary

Fourth Anniversary

Fifth Anniversary

Sixth Anniversary

[gaiathemexicanbeauty]

it only takes a taste | mike schmidt x reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: none! this is just pure fluff and maybe kind of slowburnish lol

this was loosely based off of it only takes a taste from the waitress musical! :3

idk i just really like the idea of late nights with mike even if he's too tired to even think straight lmao

also don't ask what time period this takes place in, i was born in 2004 and know like 2 things about the 70s-90s or whenever the movie takes place bc its never explicitly mentioned

i also do not regularly bake or cook so do not be afraid to go to my comment section and tell me if something sounds off

i love this man ok, i have said it 1000 times already but i've been in love with him ever since i first saw him when i was like 12 or 13 and was even more so obsessed with rebornica's mike design for YEARS. 12 year old me would have an aneurism if she knew about the fnaf movie

you let out a long yawn, one hand reaching up cover your mouth so as not to potentially ruin the mood of any customers around; granted, there was only two and they were graveyard shifters from somewhere outside of town but customers are customers. you'd been working at sparky's for a couple of months now, figuring it was an easy way to make some cash and keep food on the table. of course, you hadn't accounted for the very long hours that passed where you half debated trying to sneak away since no was around from 2-4:00 am: your boss would kill you, though, and you wanted to stay employed.

soft oldies music plays in the background as you glance over at the clock ticking away on the wall. just as you move to grab a rag to clean the counters for the 5th time during your shift, you hear the bell above the entrance jingle and don't even have to look up to know who it is.

mike wasn't a regular at first, just someone who popped in at random and very quietly asked for a coffee. after a while of starting a new job, he started coming in at almost 11:00 pm everyday and always asking for the same thing: just a plain, black coffee. "seriously?" you had said with a smirk the first time he said his order to you, your eyes widening at the attitude you had just given a customer. fortunately, mike was quick to respond with a tired but good natured laugh, his hands folded in front of him. "i'm all ears if you have other recommendations." he mumbled with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, giving you instant relief.

now, it was just clockwork. "hey." mike sighs with a soft sigh, rubbing a hand over his eyes as he takes a seat at a chair by the counter you were standing behind. "coffee machine is kind of acting up tonight, you're gonna have to give it a minute. want anything else while you wait?" you say as you approach the counter, giving him a quick smile. mike is about to decline your offer, his lips parting to say something before his eyes land on something on the farther end of the counter. "what about that? still good?" "you're just in time. i was going to take the rest of it home." you say with a smile, walking over to the cake stand holding an apple pie with only 3 slices left of it. you take the lid off to plate it, handing it over to mike with a hum before bringing him utensils. you don't even get the chance to bring up to him that the slices have been sitting there for a couple of hours, blinking in shock at the way he's quick to start eating.

you turn your back to start taking down the chalkboard advertising the special from the day before, giving mike his one moment of quiet you were sure he needed. you start to think about what your day will consist of once you're done with your shift, dreading having to clean your room before you can actually sleep. "did you make this?" "yeah. why, is it bad?" you say with a chuckle, turning to look at mike again; your eyes widen a bit at the way mike is looking at you, his own eyes looking at you like he can't believe what he just put it in his mouth. "no, no, it's..it's really good, like. really good." your cheeks redden a bit at the sudden compliment, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear as you occasionally glance at him enjoying the pie you'd made; you wouldn't say you were amazing at cooking but you definitely knew enough to make a meal that would do more than just feed you.

it also didn't help that you'd been harboring a crush on mike for the past month. that you were aware of, he didn't have a partner of any kind but that might have been more to do with the fact he didn't have time for one than anything else. you at first brushed it off as just not having contact with anyone your age that late at night, just enjoying his company when nights got lonely. but you couldn't deny the way you would style your hair a bit differently or try a new perfume in the hopes of getting a compliment from mike; to your absolute pleasure, he almost always pointed it out. now to hear this sudden praise for your cooking took you out of your element.

"thanks, really, but i make it all the time. i can make thousands like it and they'll all be the same." you say with a light chuckle, crossing your arms against your chest as you look over at the cake stand sheepishly. "then maybe you should consider getting a day job making these instead." mike says between bites, giving you a playful smile. you can't help but scoff despite the smile on your face, looking over at mike again. "well, if it's that easy, maybe YOU should quit your job and come and join me. keep me company." the two of you have a quiet laugh, your cheeks reddening at the indirect compliment you had paid him. once his plate is empty, you take it away from him just to have an excuse to do something with your hands (also to get away from the almost fond look that mike was giving you right now, definitely not on par for him). there's a tense silence between the two of you before mike speaks up, clearing his throat when he speaks. "uh, i tried making that at home. the pie, i mean. i don't remember what kind it was right now, but it definitely didn't end as well as that." he says with a nervous laugh, hands folded in front of him again as you hear the coffee machine start to pour out his drink.

"well, what exactly did you do wrong?" with surprisingly no hesitance, mike goes on to tell the story of how sure he was about this recipe he'd seen in a catalogue, going above and beyond to make sure this "stupid thing" (his words) came out right. little did he know leaving his creation unattended for even a second would result in smoke pouring out of the oven and having to throw out a charred-black pastry; "and then abby went and acted like we could just go and do it all over again and.." mike starts, hands waving around uncharacteristically as he finished off his story. he caught the way you were trying to hold back a laugh, fingers pressed to your lips that were etched into a small smile. "it's ok, you can laugh all you want. i never tried doing it again." you can't help the laugh that leaves you once he gives you his full permission, still trying to keep your voice down. "i-i'm sorry, really.." you giggle once you've calmed down, rubbing your hands over your face before you start to walk around the counter to where mike is sitting. "but that's not how making a pie works. you can't just leave it like that or give up on the process that easily."

mike makes a face that says 'i'm listening', shrugging his shoulders when you sit on the stool next to him. "making a pie is like.." you start with a sigh, hands propping up your chin in thought as you look up at the clock. "you just know when some things feel right. if something is too much or too little, whether you need to start again or not. lord knows i've had to redo entire pies because the crust wasn't flaky enough or the filling didn't taste like apples enough." you say, chuckling a bit as you remember all the times you'd slaved away for almost entire days trying to nail down the perfect home recipe. you take a minute to think again, sitting back a bit as you smooth down your apron tied around your waist. "and it also doesn't help if you make something just to make something. when you bake or just cook a plain old steak, you have to make it like you're crafting a story or making a song. all of my best meals were made with someone or something in mind."

your cheeks go red again when you realize the very unprompted ramble you went on, a nervous laugh leaving you as you look down at your lap. "sorry, you totally don't have to-" "no, no, i-" the two of you jump a bit at the way you both try to speak first, sheepish smiles tugging at your lips before you go quiet again. the bell above the door jingles and you don't have to look up to know the two of you are alone now. "i like hearing about that sort of stuff. i really only hear about it when i'm here with you and it's..nice. different." your heart soars and you can only hope that mike can't somehow feel or hear it, trying to give him a warm smile without saying something you'll regret. you get up from your seat with a when he checks his watch, knowing that's code for 'i need to go' even before he stands. you're almost sure he'll leave without saying anything which you are simultaneously grateful for and hoped he wouldn't do, already busying yourself with some other menial task. "hey."

you look up almost as soon as he speaks, seeing the smile tugging at his lips and not able to contain your own. "save those leftovers for me. i hope it still tastes like you were trying to make it for me when i get back." he says, a smug look in his eyes as your lips part a bit in shock. you try to call out to him before he jogs out to his car, taking off accordingly.

-> ta da its done! :D &lt;-

this was honestly less romantic than i wanted it to be but i promise that my brain is racked with thoughts of him literally EVERY DAY so mayhaps i can write something else that's more up to par one of these days

but thank yall for reading! :D i haven't been able to pump out a oneshot like this for a while and it felt good to write something longer than a couple of paragraphs, i have missed this account sm 🐺💗 love yall and i hope that you all are having a fantastic day!

[d0ughy]

Hello! I saw reqs were closed but if you do ever feel up to writing headcanons or a small blurb for this idea please do! if not no worries skip over this <3

Johnny Cage ( mk1 ) with a reader who has lots of face piercings? maybe an uncommon one too? i have a jestrum and find that almost no one else has this! ( vertical medusa )

I think Johnny was canonically in a punk band growing up so i think he could appreciate someone who is the same way but... as an adult! lololol

Nsfw or sfw, thinking of some nsfw with him and a tongue piercing ;)

___〆(・∀・)و ‧⁺✧

A/N: I am SO SORRY this sat in my inbox for so long! I've been busy with work and pneumonia ;A; This might not be the best as I'm still practicing with NSFW, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless! Alsoooo as someone who has a vertical labret, it was interesting researching how piercings feel during smexy time haha. MINORS DNI.

Warnings: Not proofread, N$FW, use of y/n, sorry this is short, tried to be gender neutral but might have slipped up in some parts :( ~

The dim lights of the bedroom highlight the playful glint in Johnny's eyes as he watches you approach him slowly from the closet of your shared bedroom. The lingerie you surprised him with delicately draping your body and hugging every delicious curve.

Each stud and hoop adorning your face glistened as you step into the light, releasing a small symphony of silver stars across your face. Johnny could almost get lost in the sight, however his gaze trickles downward to take in the view of your body.

You place your palms against his chest, gliding them ever so slowly down the curves and grooves of his pecs, abs, and down his happy trail. Sucking in through his teeth, Johnny lets out a breathy groan,

"Fuuuuck, y/n... Please, baby, don't keep me waiting any longer."

You chuckle, but decide to grant his wishes. Easing down onto your knees, you slide your hands up and down his muscular thighs as he eagerly undoes the zipper to his pants. His cock bounces free, a dribble of pre-cum showing you just how badly your borfriend needed you.

You fix your eyes on his, slowly bringing your head closer to his aching cock. The subtle gleam of your piercings sends a shiver down his spine. Johnny knows what ir's like to kiss you, to feel your vertical medusa against his lips. The subtle sensation of your septum piercing against his skin as you nuzzle against his neck. The feel of your eyebrow piercings when he caresses your face. And, most importantly, he is very familiar with the little ball sitting pretty on your tongue.

Johnny Cage has had a lot of excitement in his life, but nothing gets his heart racing like the thought of your tongue on his manhood. The piercing on your tongue like a a pretty pearl to him.

A soft groan echoes through the room as your tongue traces along his length. The touch of the cool metal mixing with the heat of your mouth igniting a fire in the pit of his stomach. Johnny tilts his head back, face burning hot. His fingers dance along your scalp for a moment before tightening into a fistful of your locks as the pleasure washes over him.

You let out a small gag as you attempt to take the full length of his cock into your mouth and down your throat. For a moment, it sparks an idea in Johnny's head... He wonders if he could sweet talk you into getting your uvula pierced? If your tongue piercing feels this good, he can only imagine--

His thoughts interrupted as he chokes out a loud moan. He hadn't noticed you popped your mouth off his cock, but definitely felt it when you ever so slowly slid the ball of your tongue piercing against the soft flesh at his tip. Goosebumps racing across his body as you maneuver the ball along the slit.

Johnny Cage had always thought piercings were hot, but yours hotter than anything else. Especially when you get to use them on him... And use them on him you would, ever so slowly and ever so delicately until the wee hours of the night~

[manlikeazi]

Sweater Day - Niko Omilana

On Sweater Day, Niko surprises you with a heartfelt confession disguised as a gift despite not knowing what the sweater day meant at first.

Masterlist

You were lounging on the couch, too bored even though this is the only time you've had a break after a lot of shooting as you mindlessly scrolling through TikTok. Video after video blurred together as you scrolled through until one caught your attention, a post about December 3rd.

Oh, that’s right. December’s almost here.

You glanced sideways at Niko, who was sitting beside you, too focused on his phone that a slight frown etched on his face. You couldn't help but slightly smile at the sight of him holding his phone in one hand and his other lazily stroking the cat sprawled across his lap, he looked too domestic and it's something that you wouldn't mind seeing everyday for the rest of your life.

"Hey Niko, what do you think about Sweater Day?" You asked Niko, your voice cutting through the comfortable silence.

"What's sweater day? I've been seeing it all over my page" He asked as helooked up, his brows furrowing slightly as his interest piqued.

He looked too cute with the added confused frown. But your fondness and adoration for him didn't last long when your brain processed what he said.

Oh, right.

He doesn't listen to Conan but he can listen to Tokyo drift in loop?

"That's uhm... About the day where you like... give sweater to a person" You said, flattery taking over you as you felt suddenly aware of your pulse quickening. Why were you nervous?

Why the hell are you even doing this?

Damn, you shouldn't blush, not infront of him.

"A day about giving sweaters? That's like a fashion holiday, another batch of NDL merch will pop off, limited sweater edition" Niko said his thoughts out loud with a smile, his hand absently scratching behind the cat’s ears.

Of course, business is in his mind.

"When is it exactly?" Niko asked with curiosity.

"December 3rd" You said.

"It's weird that you're just randomly giving a sweater for a day" Niko said, not truly understanding the idea of it.

"It's more like, it's a way of confessing if a person gave you a sweater in that day" You said, trying not to fidget as you tried to justify the meaning of it, feeling a need to depend it.

"Oh" He said with a realization, his smirk faded as it is replaced by a thoughtful expression.

"Are you expecting from someone then?" Niko said as he leaned back, his fingers stilling on the cat’s fur.

"I really don't know, but it's nice to receive one" You said, your voice wavered slightly, and you forced yourself to look away. 

I'd like it very much if you gave me.

It’d mean the world if it was from you.

Anyone from the heavens above want to grant me a wish?

Niko didn’t say much after that, but the air between you shifted. He seemed unusually quiet, his mind elsewhere, though you couldn’t quite read his expression

He just gave a hum as a response and completely changed the topic after that. Let's just say that he was lost in thought for the rest of that day. With you thinking that he was just planning things for business.

It's rare for Niko to shut up.

You shouldn't really be overthinking this.

The days blurred together as December crept closer. Work consumed your time with filming, editing, promoting Niko’s new merch drop. He had been busy too, throwing himself into the launch with his usual energetic and playful self.

As Niko said, he did work to make another batch of his hoodie and sweater merch to sell. He did plan to drop it early so everyone can order it.

You help the best you can by wearing it outside, in your videos, whenever you guest on someone's channel. You're always mentioning the brand.

Deciding to spend a random Tuesday just resting and making it your work off day after hours of filming yesterday, going from places to places.

You barely noticed the date as you finally took a day off, letting yourself relax on the couch with a blanket and your favorite tea. The knock on your door startled you. Groaning, you shuffled to answer it. Nonetheless, you still did it. Opening the door to see a person standing infront of you.

There stood Niko, dressed in his signature NDL hoodie, a small box in his hands. His usual confidence seemed tempered, a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. You didn't think much of it as the first thing you came up with is to let him inside. It's really dark and cold outside.

"Come on in then" You said as you stepped aside, looking at him.

Niko shook his head and waved his hands no.

"I really just passed by because I wanted to give you something before I fly out to Atlanta" He said handing over the gift. He was feeling nervous for him, It couldn't really go worse right?

"George is waiting at the car, I wouldn't be long" You looked at him puzzled, mind wondering if why is he handing you a box.

Must be some sort of prank.

Well then, I should just open it and be done.

You raised and eyebrow at him. You excitedly tried to open the box, pulling the both ends of the ribbon. He's waiting for you to say something at least. Suddenly, he stopped your hands. You turned your head to look at him.

"Wait" He said his hand grabbed your wrist to prevent you from opening the gift gently. You did stop and listened to him.

"You should open that when you go inside" Niko added still with a neutral face, you couldn't read him.

Was he nervous? Scared? Just neutral?

What is he giving you, some sort of something dangerous?

No, he wouldn't do that to you.

Probably some secret type of shit.

"What is it?" You said as your gaze flickered from the gift to Niko's eyes with confusion.

"Just... something I thought you’d like" Niko said as he hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at the waiting car.

"Thank you for this really, I appreciate it" You said with a gentle smile, feeling a rush of mixed happiness and excitement spreading through your whole body.

He gave a really genuine look in his face when the both of you made an eye contact.

"I have to go now, open that when you're inside yeah? I'll see you in a week" Niko said giving you a one last look before smiling and turning around.

A week? In Atlanta? Well, that wasn't really rare for him to go out of UK for a filming with the Beta Squad.

You wanted him to come back and explain this box but you didn't had a chance when he entered his car with George driving and waved you goodbye. You watched the car drive away still with a stunned and confused face. You stand there too long enough to feel the coolness of the wind blowing through.

Clutching close the box he handed you and following what he said. Back inside, curiosity burned through you as you set the box on the table. Carefully, you untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. Inside was one of his new NDL sweaters, but it wasn’t just any sweater. It looks very expensive and very nice. Seeing a brand new, well packaged NDL sweater. 

You admired it in awe with mouth agape feeling the soft sweater in your hand. Immediately wearing the sweater as you felt it embrace you like a certain person does. The fabric was soft and familiar. You tried to smell it, expecting the smell of a new clothes.

Instead, you smelled something more pleasant than that. The strong smell of something familiar and something comforting. You tried to smell it more to remember it and as you brought it closer, you caught a faint, unmistakable scent. His cologne.

Is this Niko's cologne? Couldn't be right?

Goodness gracious, it's his.

You're really sending him later a thank you text.

After a busy 10 minutes of admiring the sweater and enjoying the smell. Slightly wishing that he should've just sent you a bottle of his cologne but still that you're grateful for what you have.

You glanced at the digital clock sitting at the table. You noticed the date.

December 3rd...

December 3rd?

Oh.

HE GAVE YOU A SWEATER?

IN SWEATER DAY??

You felt a cold rush of something spreading through your back when you finally clocked it up. Shocked at all to everything that is happening.

What does this mean?

Surely it's just friendly right?

You glanced back to the box to see more to it. Seeing a folded paper inside, you felt your heart skipped a beat as you reached for the folded piece of paper tucked beneath the sweater. Unfolding it with trembling hands, you began to read.

Dear Y/N,

I  have something to tell you. It's something that I have kept long enough, avoiding the possible negative outcome. I'm sorry that I didn't have enough courage to tell you this in person, I know I should have been more brave but here I am.

L ong time that we have been friends, this friendship meant a lot to me, I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. We have supported each other through ups and downs.

O ur every moment that we have together feels like a treasure that I wanted to keep in my mind forever. I know enough the rules that you can't fall for your best friend... But rules are made to be broken, right?

V ery important you are to me. I have fallen inlove with you. You're the only person that can give me motivation like no one else. I never intended this to happen, If I am in charge of my feelings, I wouldn't choose this to happen.

E ven if you don't feel the same way but please, take all the time you want to process this.

Y ou're really important to me, I couldn't lose you because I can't imagine my life without you in it. You have always been my comfort person.

O thers that I have been with doesn't match the same way you did with me. Your laughter gives brightness to my day, a moment with you becomes the highlight of my every day.

Unable to tell you really in a long time that I love you, more than anything else in this world. I'm telling you that I will respect whatever will your decision be if we can remain to be friends or you want me out of your life.

Sincerely  yours , Niko.

With more added shock to yours you couldn't say anything or think of anything besides Niko. Reading the words again like you heard it come out from him. Feeling like you're nearly gonna cry.

Your thoughts drifted to your brother, Aj. Wondering how will your brother react after finding out that one of his best friends have a thing for his little sister?

Because everyone knows that you cannot meddle with your friend's sister or brother. That's just not appropriate but it did happen, the both of you didn't want this to happen. Didn't want to feel the same thing.

He will probably get mad and serious to Niko.

If it goes bad, this might damage their friendship.

Niko...

After a few minutes, you finally recovered to your shock and immediately tried to look for your phone. You went to text him but you didn't knew what to say.

Should you say thanks?

Or should you finally confess your feelings?

You let your fingers type your thoughts and let it happen.

Thank you for the sweater, Niko. I love it. And just so you know... you’ve got a girlfriend waiting for you back in London who misses you already. Take care of yourself in Atlanta, okay?  Don't do anything stupid.

You smiled at your text after sending it. Deciding that you should go to sleep wearing your new NDL sweater from Niko himself.

On the other side, a wide smile can be seen in Niko's face when a notification popped from you in his phone.

Noted. And I’ll be home soon. I’ve got someone special waiting for me there, after all.

He's definitely excited of coming home, with a lot of surprised reserved for you.

- end -

I kinda changed it a bit different from the original request but love tho it's a very very lovely request and keep them coming.

Y'all see what I did in the letter? (I LOVE PEOPLE WHO GETS IT)

I hope y'all have an amazing day, absolute love and guidance.

As I said everytime, send in some request and ideas!!