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yunistxr · 2 days ago

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Unspoken Words ⋆.˚ J. YUNHO

"when you know... you just know. and I knew the moment you entered through those office doors."

• author's note : inspired by his new drama coming up since his role is a deputy manager 🤭

pairing : jeong yunho x fem! reader

word count : 10k

genre : angst, romance, drama, fluff

summary : you’re the new employee working closely with deputy manager Yunho. A colleague secretly likes him but realizes Yunho only has eyes for you. After she apologizes, you confront Yunho, confess your feelings, and share a kiss. A month later, you’re happily and publicly dating in the office.

ateez's masterlist ☆

You had only been at your new job for a couple of months, but the office already felt like home. Not that you had time to enjoy the comforts of it, not with the whirlwind of paperwork, meetings, and deadlines that seemed to fill your days. But one thing stood out to him.

Yunho, the deputy manager of his department, was someone you had found yourself closely working with. From day one, he had been nothing but professional and kind, always there to offer a helping hand when needed. He had this magnetic energy about him that made it impossible not to be drawn to him. His leadership skills were undeniable, and his charm… well, it didn’t hurt either.

It was the way he spoke, the way his eyes lit up when he explained things, and how his presence made the office feel just a little bit warmer. Maybe that was why, despite only working together for a few months, you had already formed a bond with him—one that had everyone else in the office talking.

And there was someone else watching that bond very closely.

Her name was Mina, a colleague who had been at the company a lot longer than you. She was attractive, confident, and ambitious, and she had made it clear from the start that she had an interest in Yunho. It was subtle at first, the way she would laugh a little too hard at his jokes or find reasons to come to his desk. It didn’t take long for everyone to notice.

And then, one fateful day, you overheard her talking to someone in the breakroom.

“He’s always so close to her, don’t you think? I don’t know how much longer I can watch it,” she muttered under her breath, her tone almost bitter.

You froze. Mina was speaking about you. You had always gotten along with her, but now there was something sharp in her voice, something that made you feel uncomfortable. Was she jealous?

You shook off the feeling. After all, Yunho was professional. Nothing more. Or so you thought.

Days passed, and the tension between you and Mina became more palpable. She would shoot you subtle glares, throw passive-aggressive comments, and linger near Yunho’s desk when you were working with him. But you, ever the professional, tried to ignore it, choosing instead to focus on the work at hand.

Then one afternoon, after another particularly intense meeting, Mina stopped you as you were about to leave the office.

“I need to talk to you,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

You raised an eyebrow. “Sure, what’s up?”

She shifted on her feet, hesitant, like she was deciding whether or not to say what was on her mind. Finally, she spoke, her voice low.

“I owe you an apology.”

You blinked, taken aback. “What for?”

Mina looked down at her hands, fidgeting with the hem of her blouse. “For everything. For being… well, rude. I thought I had a chance with Yunho, but I was wrong. It’s obvious now that he only has eyes for you.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. “What are you talking about?”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I could see it. The way he looks at you, the way he listens to everything you say. I thought if I just tried a little harder, maybe I could win his attention, but it’s clear now that it was always you. I’m sorry I made things awkward between us.”

You weren’t sure how to respond. A part of you was surprised, even a little relieved, to hear that Yunho felt the same way you did. But another part of you was confused. What exactly was happening between you and Yunho?

Mina saw your silence and gave you a small, apologetic smile. “I just thought you should know.”

That night, as you sat at your desk, trying to focus on your work, your mind kept drifting to Yunho. Mina’s words echoed in your head. He only has eyes for you. But was that true?

You didn’t have to wait long to find out.

Later that evening, as you were preparing to leave, you ran into Yunho in the hallway. He was heading to his desk, looking as composed as ever. The sight of him made your heart race a little faster. It always did.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice warm, almost too casual. “Got a minute?”

You nodded, following him to his desk. He sat down and gestured for you to take a seat across from him. You did, a little nervous, unsure of where this conversation was heading.

“You know,” Yunho started, running a hand through his hair, “I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

He hesitated for a moment, then leaned forward, his eyes locking onto yours. “About us. About how we’ve been spending so much time together, how… well, how I’ve been feeling.”

You swallowed hard, your heart thudding in your chest. “What do you mean?”

Yunho let out a soft breath, his gaze never leaving yours. “I think… I think I’ve developed feelings for you. I’ve been trying to ignore it, trying to focus on work, but I can’t. I like you. More than just a colleague.”

Your world seemed to stop. All the nervousness, all the confusion, melted away in that moment. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, but you didn’t care. “Yunho… I—”

Before you could finish, he closed the distance between you, cupping your face gently in his hands. His lips found yours in a kiss that was soft, yet full of meaning. It wasn’t rushed or desperate, but a kiss that spoke of everything that had been left unspoken between the two of you for so long.

When the kiss finally broke, you were both breathless.

“I should’ve told you sooner,” Yunho whispered, his forehead resting against yours.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you replied, your voice thick with emotion. “I think I’ve known for a while.”

The days that followed were a whirlwind. The office, which had once felt like a battlefield of unspoken feelings and quiet tensions, now felt like home in a new way. You and Yunho were inseparable, both at work and outside of it. The rest of the office started to notice too. No one was surprised when rumors started circulating about the two of you, but it didn’t matter.

Your relationship with Yunho grew stronger each day. He was attentive, thoughtful, and always made sure to check in with you. The chemistry between you was undeniable, and before long, your colleagues were congratulating you, expressing their happiness for the two of you.

And as for Mina? She had come to terms with the situation, even offering her genuine support, and the tension between the two of you gradually faded into something much more comfortable. She had realized that no matter what she had hoped, Yunho’s heart had always been yours.

One month later, you and Yunho were happily and publicly dating. The office was no longer filled with the same awkwardness. Now, it was a place where your love story was quietly celebrated, shared glances across the room, morning coffee runs together, and the soft brush of hands under the desk during meetings.

Your once-secret smiles were now met with knowing grins from your coworkers. Even your boss jokingly commented during a Friday team lunch, “I guess the best project this quarter was you two.”

Mina, now a bit more distant but civil, occasionally made you laugh again. There was no lingering bitterness—only the quiet, mutual understanding of how things had unfolded. Sometimes, she even joined you for lunch, cracking jokes like nothing had ever happened. Maybe she’d moved on. Or maybe she was just glad to see real love in action.

But nothing compared to what happened one quiet Thursday evening.

Most of the office had already gone home. You were staying late to help finalize an end-of-quarter report, and Yunho insisted on staying behind with you. The soft hum of the computer screens filled the silence, accompanied by the occasional tapping of your keyboard.

“Almost done?” Yunho asked, leaning over your chair, his chin briefly resting on your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Just the final numbers.”

He chuckled and placed a soft kiss against your neck. “You know, I used to hate staying late. Now I look forward to it.”

You turned to face him. “Because of me?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Always because of you.”

Your heart fluttered like it did the first time he kissed you. And then he did something you didn’t expect he pulled a small velvet box from his pocket.

Your eyes widened.

“I know it’s fast,” he said, voice sincere and eyes soft, “but when you know... you just know. Don’t panic,” he added quickly with a grin. “It’s not a ring.”

You laughed, breath catching in your throat as he opened the box to reveal a delicate necklace, a silver charm in the shape of a paper plane—a symbol of beginnings, of things that take flight and find their way.

“For the girl who changed my world,” he said softly.

You blinked back sudden tears, touched beyond words. “It’s perfect.”

He fastened it around your neck, fingers brushing your skin with practiced care, then leaned in to kiss you again—slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that spoke of everything to come.

In that moment, with the office lights dimmed and the world quiet around you, it didn’t matter how it started the awkward glances, the uncertainty, or the pain. You had made it. Together.

And somehow, between overdue reports and coffee breaks, you’d found something more than love. You found a future.

#ateez atiny #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez fluff #ateez hard hours #ateez hard thoughts #ateez imagines #ateez rpf #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez yunho #yunho #jeong yunho #yunho x reader #yunho fanfic #yunho fluff #yunho angst

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kewpiekitty · 21 hours ago

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Hiii! I'm not entirely sure if you take requests, but I saw you were writing more chubby/plus sized readers!! I was wondering if you could do something with Volt and Eddie(date everything) and a plus sized reader? If not, no worries! Thank you!!!!!

relationship headcanons !

a/n !: hiii anon !! i do indeed take requests and i also write for date everything as well !! i'd love to do something with volt and eddie !! i've noticed they're quite popular on here teehee !! also i hope it's okay but i'm gonna make the reader female !! if you'd rather have gender neutral reader then please lmk and i'll change that for you !!

content warning !: suggestive themes, nsfw but like not really?, fem!plussize!reader, eddie x reader x volt, and poly themes !!

synopsis !: some cute headcanons about what having eddie and volt as your boyfriends would be like !!

you cannot tell me otherwise, but these two LOVE chubby women. especially eddie, the way your plush skin feels so soft against his rough calloused hands. it's a major turn on for him he'd never admit that though.

they are head over heels in love with you. your sweet personality, your perfect figure, everyhting about you has them down on their knees. they would do absolutely anything to protect you. someone is messing with you? saying mean things? you'll never have to worry about them again.

eddie and volt will pick you up all the time. if you're the kind that says 'no i'm too heavy i'll hurt you.' oh you better be ready, these two are gonna be placing their hands all over you. volt would ofc do the bridal style hold and eddie would place you on his shoulders so your thighs can squeeze his head.

volt will always be the more effectionate one, even when you get to that stage with eddie, he'll be a little hesitant about too much affection. that doesn't mean he won't give you any though !

i know that they'll make sure everyone in the house knows that you belong to them. they both seem like pretty territorial guys, with volt being the more professional of the two.

poor eddie is quite emotionally stunted, he's not too sure how to respond to how you are feeling sometimes. due to that i feel like he gets a little insecure sometimes, thinking that you may prefer volt a little more since he's better with his reactions.

i feel like when you hit that point where you feel the romantic tension they're like lost puppies without you. they find themselves talking about you a lot, as if you are the only thing on their minds which you are.

if you ever get insecure about your size, expect to be covered in kisses by eddie and whispered comforting words by volt!! they will not allow you to feel insecure about your beautiful body. how could you hate the curves that they love so much?

you never have to worry about eddie being flirtatious with anyone else cause he's kind of a dick to others!! not in a bad way but more so he has a lack of interest in talking to anyone besides you and volt.

if you get easily jealous then they'll both be sure to reassure you that you're all they want. in more ways than one!!

eddie loves to drag you off so you can be next to him while he does small repairs around the fuse box. i think he'd even have a cute little spot set up for you too, just so you can be near him throughout the day.

volt would have you sitting at one of the tables that is always in his sight so he can keep an eye on you while he's still busy! he'd also keep you supplied with snacks and your fav drink.

when they finally have some free time they make sure to catch up on all of the cuddles they missed. both of their arms wrapped around your plump figure, kissing your neck and chest.

once they've been realized, i feel like they'd realize how much they miss you. so they'd find a cute small house close to where they live, fix it up, and have you live near them. sleepovers would be an almost everyday thing.

#pretty.kitty.writes !#x reader #date everything #date everything x reader #eddie x reader x volt #date everything volt #date everything eddie #x plus size reader #x chubby reader #date everything x plus size reader #date everything headcanons

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kii-nami · 2 days ago

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STAINED GLASS ORIGIN, NEVERENDING: masterlist

If They wished him to become a perfect pathstrider, then he had to embark on the journey of demolition, for his love would be enough to incinerate even the personification of carnage. Or alternatively, even shattered into millions of pieces, you will still find your way to him, for there is no finality without origin.

content warnings: mc is loosely inspired by mei (i am begging hi3rd scholars for forgiveness); fem mc using she/her pronouns; mydei is a love interest but he is also not; phainon is endgame; mentions of pregnancy, miscarriages, infidelity, childbirth and infant death; i am not a hsr lore scholar, i am simply having fun; active mentions of other ocs @sewersaga and i have, including those from genshin, also here's a beautiful art of mc by my friend her! please show bee some love, her aventurine fic is beautiful; hope you will have fun

CHAPTER ONE: stained glass samsara, everbearing [phainon, mydei]

Mydei drops Phainon’s title shamelessly, as if he is not standing here in this empty alleyway with you, holding you in his embrace so delicately behind Phainon’s back. Have you two no guilt? Does your shame really run that shallow to betray the man who loves you so dearly with such graceful ease? With his brother in arms, no less. How little self-respect does the crown prince have, to chase after a taken woman?

CHAPTER TWO: stained glass elysium, everlasting [mydei]

He met you for the first time under the warm sunlight. Heavenly and haunting, your song would hold him hostage long after this mortal flesh of yours corroded into divine dust. Hundreds of wandering bards crossed the border of Castrum Kremnos for the Kremnos Festival, yet the strumming of your harp was not the same as those others. Otherworldly, you sang a song of days long gone, all but forgotten even by those who strived to remember. Those souls were crying, driven by the heartbreak in your voice they yearned to relive the love which was never theirs to hold. You never consoled them; a painted nail caught on a string of your harp, you continued your performance until there were no tears left to cry, until the dull ache of winning the tournament mattered not, until the dusk fell upon the far away hills of a meadow.

CHAPTER THREE: stained glass deliverance, evershattering [phainon]

To love you was to love this world. And to love this world he had to love himself. In the upcoming tomorrow, Khaslana of Aedes Elysiae vowed to love himself enough so he could love the world twice as much, for you existed in it. And this would always be enough for him. With that, the thirty-three million, five hundred fifty thousand, three hundred and thirty-sixth cycle came to an abrupt close.

CHAPTER FOUR: amidst the sea of flowers, a tomb of blazing silence [phainon]

Uncertain, he feared that one single look in his eyes would give the impostor away. They were far too different; the broken shell of a man that was standing before you right now had long lost all the youthful naïveté of a young man you loved so dearly. Yet his other self, Phainon, could never truly love you the way he did. One could never know love to its fullest until they bury themselves in one grave with their beloved.

CHAPTER FIVE: sunburnt sojourner cry of treason [phainon]

[WIP] If only he had more time. If only it were now and not tomorrow, maybe Khaslana wouldn’t have to stand here waiting for you. Cyrene truly was blessed by the kindest spirits, to be given that time she got to spend knowing you. At least he surely got tomorrow, the time nobody could take away from him. Not now, not till his body turned to nothing but ash to nurture the soil of your beloved home.

#phainon x reader #mydei x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail imagines #hsr x reader #hsr imagines

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kenpachissluut · 2 days ago

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this was an request and my first time writing about Jugram <33

Stalker!Jugram who carefully sneaked into your life out of the sudden one day. Pretending to be the new neighbor next door, being all gentle and friendly when in reality he‘s a damn gruesome stalker. Not any stalker but yours, who has been making your life harder & creepier each day since a whole year already.

Stalker!Jugram who talks to you on daily basis whenever he sees you. Standing by the mailbox or in the lobby of the apartment building, he pretends to be the friendly interested and caring neighbor. He asks you many questions about yourself, showing his interest in you when he actually already knows every information about you, but he has to play his little game so you won’t get suspicious.

Stalker!Jugram who is always there when you need his help. When i say always, i mean always because he already knows about your little problems because of the hidden cameras. Your sink is broken, he will repair it for you instantly. You need some sugar? He will give it to you. He does everything to get closer to you and make you like him and even get interested in him in a more romantically way.

Stalker!Jugram who once was invited inside your apartment by yourself for a friendly chat and coffee and once you left for the bathroom, he had to act quickly. With precision and already knowing where he had to hide them, he places mini cameras inside of your living room and your bedroom. As soon as you came back, he acts like he was waiting patiently for you and gives you a charming smile.

Stalker!Jugram who watches you every night on his laptop on the mini cameras he had placed in your apartment. He loves stroking himself off, while watching you comfortably laying in your bed watching a movie or even just sleeping peacefully unaware. He‘s worked up easily by everything you do and you gift him the best fucking orgasm without even knowing every single day!

Stalker!Jugram who follows you to your workplace or even when you meet up with some friends and taking pictures with his camera for his photo collection of you. He makes sure you are always protected and just wants to find out more about you. But watch out if you meet up with a man, you will likely never hear of him again. He‘s deadly jealous and fumes like fire as soon a man gets to close to you.

Stalker!Jugram who slides an envelope under your apartment door with pictures inside of it. Once it’s open his massive hard length is on the pictures, perfectly photographed in the best ankles. His dick is long, pale and really veiny. Really firm and aesthetically beautiful just like him, not that you would know his identity. Nonetheless you think it’s inappropriate and wanted to press charges because of your sick stalker, but of course the pictures didn’t came without a sidenote telling you.

„Press charges my darling and the people you love will be hurt deeply. Just enjoy my affection and gifts and you will be always protected and loved.“

Stalker!Jugram who doesn’t understand that his actions and his obsession with you is wicked and sick as fuck. One day he sits innocently in your living room telling you how his day was, the next day he sits in his bedroom writing an wicked „loveletter“ to you. Telling you how much he loves you, how obsessed he is with you and that you belong to him, body, mind and soul.

Stalker!Jugram who uses your most vulnerable state to his advantage. While you sit there crying and telling him how that guy ghosted you (of course he made him disappear lol) he comforts you like a good friend would do. Wrapping his arm around you, rubbing your shoulders and gently wiping your tears away. He pretends like he would care, when in reality he finally just wants to have you all to himself.

Stalker!Jugram who manipulates you into his arms with his caring and loving words until you can’t help but fall hard for him. He has the looks and even a „good“ character so of course you gave him a chance. Not knowing that your worst nightmare ever just was at the damn beginning, even though it started a year ago.

Stalker!Jugram who has you right there where he wanted you. Squirming and moaning underneath him while he fucks your pussy like no one ever did before. Slamming his cock balls deep into your cunt with powerful hard thrusts, letting you forget about everything else but him. His movements are relentless and without mercy, completely focused to stuff you full with his cum and enjoying the feeling of your warm walls clenching around him so desperately milking him dry.

Stalker!Jugram who effortlessly came into your life, befriended you as the new friendly neighbor and now even won you over as his damn girlfriend. Yet his wicked desires aren’t still completely fulfilled, so he still keeps the act up as your stalker. Without you knowing that your boyfriend is the man who constantly sends you sick loveletters, many gifts and follows you everywhere you go for a whole year now.

Stalker!Jugram who one day decided to drop the act and to tell you the truth just because he wanted to see your reaction, not because he felt sorry or something. Seeing your shocked and feared expression just fuels his sick desire and your failed attempts to seek for help even more. If you think it would be over by now, you are wrong. It’s just the fucking beginning. He will never let you go and the worst part? You love him already so much, you don’t even want to let him go.

𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 ᢉ𐭩

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levshany · 1 day ago

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Feel free to ignore this ask if it makes you uncomfortable. I've gone through all your posts of Belos/Philip and I really like the way you draw and write him. In the process I have also begun to think of him in a more lighthearted characteristic, with ideas of my own about him. However during most of my time as an owl house fan I've held great dislike towards him because of his actions as a villain, and now I find it hard to reconcile my predisposed idea of him as an evil emperor with my newfound perspective of seeing him as a funny weirdo grandpa.

I really want to be able to enjoy and maybe even create something out of my newfound liking for Philip, but it just isn't working and I would hope you could provide some insight or advice. I would like to be clear I don't think you are amoral in any way for characterizing Philip the way you do, I'm just trying to get to the same wavelength you are.

I was going to answer this ask the moment I received it, but this question turned out to be more complicated than I initially thought, so I spent a few days thinking about it

You see, the attitude I developed toward Philip is the result of several events that happened to align perfectly. It’s a pretty personal story, but in short: I watched the first season of TOH spontaneously, and I didn’t feel anything toward Belos until he showed his face and started talking about how he missed home. That was the moment I started liking him because he reminded me of Goodwin

Then the third season happened, which traumatized me with its treatment of Philip. I went to read fanfics and met two girls who shared my opinion about Philip and the ending, and who later became my gfs and co-writers. We bonded over our hatred for the original show, and by throwing ideas at each other about aus and stories, we fed our shared hyperfixation. It started to feel like we understood this character better than anyone else, which makes sense because, due to the huge number of plot holes, unanswered questions in the series, and moments we simply disagreed with, Philip became about 70% our own oc in our hands. And because of the colossal amount of effort and attention we poured into him, our feelings toward him became almost parental

In the end, it all became this nuclear mix of sympathy, immense effort to refine and rework the character, personal trauma that turned Philip into my fav. And now I’m sitting here, trying to figure out how to condense this vision into a few takes...

I’ll try! Sorry for all the rambling - I’m finally getting to the point

So, here are some subjective takes on why Philip has "funny weirdo grandpa potential"! remember that this isn’t about canon Philip (because he’s an asshole) and doesn’t imply any romanticization of toxic relationships, proship, or other crap. We’re talking about those qualities of Philip that, in an alternate universe, could’ve been the foundation for interesting and healthy interactions with other characters!

1. Philip enjoys spending time with kids

It just so happened that in the show, the people Philip spends the most time with and genuinely enjoys talking to are kids - Hunter, Luz, and the Collector. Collie was Philip’s companion longer than all the grimwalkers combined. Hunter is, roughly speaking, the result of an attempt to cope with his trauma. And with Luz, Philip feels a kinship bc they’re both from Human Realm. The mere fact that all the emotionally significant people in Philip’s life are kids gives me a huge foundation to develop their relationships as a found family

2. A sneaky little cookie

Philip is a smart and sneaky cookie - he was smart enough to deceive the entire Boiling Isles, and he fools the kids more than once or twice. In my ideal world, where only ponies live, he could use his intelligence for harmless mischief - be a trickster who plays pranks on the kids, but in a friendly way! That’s what he does in Hamayun and Shadow House aus

3. The desire to be loved and to love, or found family therapy

Continuing the theme of emotional connection with kids, Ludwig has a wonderful drabble called "Golden Family," where none of the grimwalkers betray Philip, but he just couldn’t stop at one golden head. He kept making more until there were about a hundred fluffy golden heads in the castle! And these grimwalkers, with their genuine love and desire for their uncle’s attention, became a form of therapy for Philip. As a child, he wished Caleb would pay more attention to him, and now he sublimates that into caring for his nephews. This therapy ultimately softens his personality and erases his hatred for witches!

In "The Axe" (I feel like a scholar citing my own works and those of my colleagues), Philip creates Hunter because, despite Caleb being nearby, Philip isn’t satisfied with his company - the idealized image he built in his head during their separation shattered against the real Caleb, who was cold and bitter toward him. Philip needed unconditional love. He needed someone to love and live for. And he created Hunter so he wouldn’t hang himself in his own workshop (not so "funny weirdo grandpa" moment, yet very impactful)

4. Philip values family

Just appreciate the fact that Philip went through literal hell (a world full of creatures he was told horror stories about as a child) to find his brother?? Isn’t that selfless??? Isn’t that a story about love and the importance of family??? Yes, it ended badly, BUT SOMEWHERE IN ANOTHER UNIVERSE, PHILIP COULD’VE SACRIFICED HIS OWN LIFE FOR HIS FAMILY, U KNOW?

5. He’s just cool. All kids (me (even if I’m not a kid)) want a cool grandpa like that

Have you seen how Hunter looks at Philip? I just want the same thing, but without the toxicity - I’m not a big fan of spicy food, thanks

As you can see, my point is - Philip has a ton of qualities that, under different circumstances, could’ve made him that "weird but nice grandpa." Yes, some of them developed because of trauma, BUT YOU GET WHAT I MEAN. This whole text can be summed up as: "Philip could’ve been a funny weirdo grandpa if his life hadn’t gone to shit". he could have been a good person.. he could have been a hero. it's just- something went really wrong at some point

I really hope I managed to answer your question - thanks for asking it! I had a lot of fun thinking about this topic and responding to it >< good luck with your art and ideas!!✨💕

#toh #the owl house #belos #emperor belos #what's up lev

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mottysith · 24 hours ago

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Itrapped x reader who's very forgiving and kind to him even after he killed chance bc they're so inlove with him and uses that to his advance and betrays them like he betrayed chance, let me cook.

Pairing: Itrapped x Reader

Warnings: Angst, death.

Sorry for the wait! I hope you like this!

You had no reason to not trust Itrapped, after all, you knew his plan to befriend Chance just for the key to the banlands. So you trusted him with your whole soul. Even helping him with betraying Chance, making Itrapped seem trustworthy to the gambler.

So you could only forgive Itrapped when he finally murdered the gambler in cold blood. Even helping him make it seem like suicide

Being Hopeless in love with Itrapped made you like that, forgiving, kind, all the positive traits towards the one who would be your demise.

Itrapped made all his way into your heart just to break it appart. You didn't really had a lot to offer, yet other people Itrapped was interested in hurting were fond of you, and killing you would make it easier to bond with those certain someone. Bonding over someone dead is easier.

His sword was gently placed in your neck. The same sword he used to kill Chance, if you remember well. His gaze was gentle, kind. Like if this moment wasn't going to happen at all.

"I have nothing against you, I mean so" He said so coldly yet so full of warmth, you wanted to cry.

You wanted to keep quiet because you knew that anything your mouth says will be pleading, yet your desperation took over you.

"Itrapped- please- I love you... don't do this to me, don't do this to us" you pleaded, 'I sound pathetic' you thought to your

Itrapped stayed quiet, a gentle smile platering his face, too gentle. "I love you too" he said before slashing your neck in a fast motion, instantly killing you.

A small river of blood started to go down from your neck, tainting both your clothing and the sleeves of Itrapped.

His smile fell, showing his true colours, neutral, cold. All the things he showed you towards Chance, how he would talk behind their back to you, laugh about their fear and secrets just for the fun of it. All the thing you knew he were, yet didn't believe would do to you.

Itrapped was going to admit one thing, he actually liked you. After all you were loyal and were hopelessly in love with him, but you were more useful being dead than alive, after all your emotions ran quicker than your thought.

With extreme care he left your body gently on the floor, making sure you didn't get bruised. With that, he left the place, leaving your body for the police to find.

Notes: I completely forgot I didn't post this one LMAO.

#forsaken x reader #forsaken #forsaken x you #itrapped forsaken #itrapped x reader #x reader #mottysith fics

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overangel · 3 days ago

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How would Alfred react when the family falls in love with reader romantically and preys on her?

Hi, nonnie, hi! This ask is so fun! I've been thinking about Alfred's reaction too, cause can you imagine his face??

((Starling/You broke the curse and aged up and teen characters like Tim and Damian are 18+))

Alfred when you and Jason get together.

First things first, Alfred planned on pushing Jason to you from the moment you showed interest in him at the hospital (you didn't know showing innocent interest in Jason back then would work so well but maybe the universe is finally showing you that you're one of her faves). At first, he only knew you as a teenager so he just wanted Jason to be a positive big brother figure you alluded to wanting.

But, now that he knows you were an adult the whole time, and you were actually older than Jason? He hears wedding bells in your future and he can only see himself walking you down the aisle. Actually, Bruce isn't even there in the wedding fantasy? That's weird. Bruce just doesn't fit in somehow. It feels right that he's not there, though. Interesting.

He's been manifesting you two getting together for a while and when it finally happened, he felt like everything was as it should be. Maaaaybe Jason is his favorite...You didn't hear it from him, though. He's always had a soft spot for Jason—not born from guilt and pity—but from true affection and care for who Jason was and is at his core. No matter what happens, he knows his son will always find his way back on the path.

He knew you'd be good for Jason. He would finally get the love and solace he's never had, and he knew without a doubt that Jason would honor and defend you til his dying breath. Alfred doesn't see you and Jason as relatives. It's clear as day you're not related in any way and he corrects anyone who mentions it.

Too many people are trying to get in Jason's way, but Alfred has his ways.

Alfred when Dick falls for you:

No.

No?

No.

Dick is a great man, yes, Alfred knows it to be true. There's just one thing: He's not good enough for you. You need stability and unconditional love, and Dick isn't the person who can give it to you like you deserve. Hell, Dick needs it himself and Alfred knows that you would be the best thing for Dick but Dick doesn't deserve you having to fix him.

Alfred catches on to subtle changes about Dick and he realizes that Dick's past bad habits of searching for a purpose in partners and other things. Dick changed his life around just for a chance with you, and Alfred can't not acknowledge the effort.

He still doesn't like the way Dick acted when you first showed up, so he won't give his blessings.

Alfred when Tim fell AND HE FOUND OUT HOW FREAKING HORNY TIM IS (the chainsaw is for Tim's penis):

Tim had to be a depraved freak before he came to Wayne manor cause ain't no way he got like this under Alfred's roof! Tim thinks he's slick hiding his explicit files of you (audio, video, pictures, AI edits) but Alfred accidentally found a few of the less dirty images and went to Bruce about it immediately.

Bruce had a stern talking to Tim, but it didn't help at all. If anything, Tim doubled down. Bruce confiscated Tim's passwords and revoked access to almost everything for a probationary period, but Tim already made copies of everything and gave up the decoys.

It had started small, finding stiff stocks under Tim's bed and your dirty underwear in his shelf. He stumbled upon a shrine in the back of Tim's closet with an effigy of you in the center. Surrounded by it were your carefully preserved clothes, hair ties, used tissues, lost lip gloss, so many personal things.

Alfred almost doubled over and vomited in Tim's shoes when he saw what was nestled in the base of the Y/n effigy.

A fleshlight.

Alfred when Damian falls for you:

Say sike, little boy.

Alfred can't take anymore of this! He can't. He had a bad feeling things would go this way, but he unconsciously took a page out of Bruce's book and repressed the concerns. Now, look at where they are now.

Damian's in love with—and has expressed obvious physical attraction to— his half sister. Well, that's one way to make sure the Wayne legacy stays in place.

Alfred takes comfort in that it'll never be socially acceptable for Damian to come out about his feelings, even in the vigilante circle, and that hopefully nothing can come from this. This childish teen crush doesn't go away over the years no matter how often you rebuff him, and he plans to conquer your heart the minute he's able to.

He's been shaping himself to be the perfect man for you and when he hits 18 he makes a promise to you on his birthday. You two can be with no one else. You were meant for each other.

Alfred when he finds out about BRUCE:

It's over.

It all ends with him.

Bruce is going to have to disappear from this life and looks like Damian is going to succeed the throne much sooner than planned.

Alfred taps into his old life—the one he only tells you about in snippets before he traded one uniform for another—and the trained killer comes back to him like reuniting with an old friend.

Well, in this timeline Alfred doesn't kill Bruce, but he will if he's forced to. If he ever catches Bruce trying to assault you, he's filling the Bat's head full of lead and burning the body.

Alfred's more on guard every day of his life now because he truly doesn't know what's going on in Bruce's mind. How could this have happened? How could Bruce had allowed himself to fall for his own daughter? Yes, you weren't raised by him and it looks like he fell for the adult you before he knew it, but a rational man could've stopped himself. For all those years of meditation and training Bruce willingly gave in to his more base impulses and he doesn't want to be saved.

There's now a fine line between Bruce and Alfred that'll never disappear. Something broke and Alfred is constantly vigilant, waiting for Bruce to lean just a bit too far.

All in all, Alfred was over the moon when you got together with Jason but he's so not having a good time right now and he's lowkey wondering if everyone falling for you is his karma for doing wrong in a past life.

Please tell him everything's going to be okay

#yandere batman #yandere dc #ty.answers #I tried to do this in one sitting because other writers answer asks sooo fast #and I hate that y'all wait unlike other readers because I want to put out an epic lol

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mitocamdria · 2 days ago

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Carmy is a serial plotter

So I wanted to do this post to serve as a sort of compilation of proof that Carmy puts serious thought into his plans to spend time or hoard the possessions of the people he romantically desires. This theory is so fascinating to me because it adds another intriguing layer of personality to the tormented and talented chef we all have come to love. To layout the evidence I’ll break it down by season.

Season 1:

I think we actually get the first sign that Carmy plots when he texts Syd before opening Mikey’s letter. After he states his behavior was not ok, he tells Syd that her check is ready for her to come get whenever.

Now please correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t it more customary that a final check be mailed to a former employee, especially if the employee and employer are not in the most cordial of relationships, which at that time they were very much not. Or Carmy could have asked if Syd would like to come in to retrieve the check or have it mailed. But no, Carmy specifically says she needs to come to the restaurant to get it. I think this was Carmy’s way of ensuring he could see her at least one last time to try and convince her to come back, even before they found the tomato can money (that money certainly helped his plan).

Season 2:

One of the first metas that came about suggesting that Carmy formulates plans in lieu of just communicating his feelings is from @fairestbeard and can be read here. It brilliantly lays out how Carmy is the one whom purposefully messed up the lacto ferment he and Syd were working on in order to be able to make the suggestion that they essentially go on a food tour date which Carmy failed to do previously in front of the lockers at The Bear. There’s also evidence that Carmy purposefully moved his Chef coat to his kitchen where he knew Syd was going to be which eventually led to him gifting her the Thom Browne Chef coat.

Season 3:

Ever Dinner

So I think there may already be meta written about this but I can’t find a specific post about it so definitely let me know of any existing meta.

Carmy made a plan to ask Syd to the Ever Funersl dinner ahead of time, indicated by the fact that Carmy awkwardly starts the conversation with “We’re closed tomorrow night” seemingly in the hopes to steer the conversation towards the Ever dinner. Once he realizes he has an opening he makes an obviously pensive expression and then shoots his shot.

Syd’s Scrunchie

There’s been a lot of speculation that the scrunchie Carmy has on his dresser is Sydney’s. Sydney is the only character to consistently wear scrunchies when she’s not working in the restaurant. So therefore I think Carmy had to have taken it one of the times she was in his apartment. Or maybe Syd had one in the restaurant lying around somewhere accessible to Carmy.

This theory is really interesting because it would be easy enough for Camry to just give the scrunchie back to Sydney if he innocently came across it but the fact that he’s hoarding it shows that he is holding onto it because he loves her deeply.

Season 4:

Now this season is where the plotting gets heavy. @freedelusionshere was one of if not the first to come up with the idea that it was Carmy that took Syd’s cleaver (post here) and @hamachibloodmagic reblogged with photo evidence that Syd indeed used her cleaver around Carmy shortly before it went missing (reblog here).

@thoughtfulchaos773’s meta detailing how Carmy lies is explored in great detail here and also provides evidence that Carmy hoarded Claire’s green sweater which also serves as proof that Carmy probably took Syd’s cleaver.

I find it hilarious that when Sydney tells Carmy she lost her cleaver, instead of offering help to find it (which would be the normal and expected response), Carmy immediately asks her if she needs a new cleaver. CARMY BE PLOTTING. It’s definitely implied Carmy is going to engage in another grand gift giving gesture towards Syd, because that is what Carmy does when he realizes he can actually provide something Sydney wants or needs, like with the chef coat. Only this time, Carmy TAKES the object so that he can replace it, probably with one that is high end or with significant sentimental value.

Significance

What does all of this prove? Carmy is very aware of his feelings for Syd. There has still been some speculation within this community as to whether or not Carmy is aware that he is deeply in love with Syd and the fact that Carmy plots in order to get closer to her is evidence he does these things intentionally.

He even so much as calls himself a “psycho” when he is stuck in the walk in and questions why he ever thought he could be in a relationship. On surface level, none of Carmy’s actions up to that point would be any that anyone would call psychopathic. Which leads me to believe he is very much aware that he plots and I think that is the psycho behavior to which he is referring. And due this realization, Carmy deflects and sabotages his plans because he believes he is unworthy of Syd’s love.

Perhaps the cherry on top to these revelations is that it only proves further that Carmy and Sydney are soulmates. Because we all know this story starts with Sydney’s plot to come and work for the chef who made the best meal of her life and lies to Carmy about why she’s there. These two are so afraid of open communication that they rely on elaborate plans they’ve made in order to get closer to the other. If that’s not soulmatism, I don’t know what is.

#sydcarmy #carmen x sydney #sydney x carmy #syd x carmy

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hoonieyun · 2 days ago

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en- gacha ch. 1 ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

en- gacha masterlist

"helium arcade is now closing"

genre: very normal chapter, domestic/slice of life, a bit of angst warnings: no warnings really!! 18+ not proofread lol

synopsis: yn has visited helium arcade since she was a young child and when she finds out that it'll be closing within the next week, she decides she's going to visit the arcade everyday to get every last gacha capsule left in her favorite gacha machine.

chapter summary: yn finally has a week off from her busy work schedule and decides what better way to spend her break than to visit her favorite place as a child, helium arcade!

wc: 2183

the sun is high in the sky, a cool breeze fills the air, and it seems like the grass is greener when you step out of your apartment building and onto the street. you haven’t had a break in a long time so when your boss told you that you’ve accrued enough hours to take paid time off from work for the week, you jumped at the opportunity.

you were hard working and deserved the break. you haven’t had any time to yourself in so long, sacrificing your favorite things to do and personal self care routine so that you could make sure to stick to your work schedule. you’d cut corners by shortening your skin care routine, washing your hair less, and eating at random hours of the day just because of how busy work has been.

but not this week.

for the next seven days, you had the week off. no work emails or calls, no annoying coworkers asking you for help on something they should know by now, and no annoying peter from accounting that never takes the hint that you’re not interested in him.

the night before the first day of your week-long vacation, you laid in bed all giddy and excited as you thought about all of the things you wanted to do that week. visit a new cafe or a restaurant you’ve been meaning to. or possibly go to that museum that you never have the time to visit. or maybe you’ll take a little trip somewhere out of town.

you had thought a lot about this but because you never expected yourself to have this time to rest and to just have to yourself, you weren’t entirely sure what to do with all of this free time.

that was until you went to sleep that night and it came to you like a dream.

you were a child again, maybe 7 or 8 years old, and you were running around a building filled with bright flashing neon lights and the sounds of pinballs and tokens jingling together.

helium arcade.

it was an arcade run by a husband and wife, though you imagine them to be grandparents now, and it was your favorite place on earth. your parents would take you there every weekend and even though you didn’t always play the games or participate in the activities at the arcade, you just loved being there.

your eyes would widen at the claw machines with the cute plush animals, your head would turn at the sound of someone scoring high on the punching bag game, and you’d smile at the sound of tokens running down the shoot of the dispenser as your dad cashed out for some tokens so that you could grab a little souvenir to take home even though you were there every weekend.

your absolute favorite thing being the endless rows of gachapon or capsule machines filled with little trinkets, keychains, and whatnots that you became obsessed with so much so that you carried that fascination into adulthood.

but as you got older, you began to visit helium arcade less and less. you didn’t want to blame your parents but your mom and dad got busy with work so they couldn’t take you to the arcade as often. as a child you didn’t understand the circumstance fully but you chose to not question the sudden change in your life.

something that was your favorite place ever became something you just had to look forward to, unsure of when you’ll be able to visit next but always expecting.

it wasn’t until you got to middle school that you started to go back to helium arcade again, now with your friends instead of your parents. you’d save up whatever allowance you had to be able to have some spending money at the arcade, all of which typically just goes to the gachapon.

when high school came, it became harder to visit the arcade again; you turned into somewhat of a moody teenager, felt like no one understands you and that your parents weren’t being reasonable when it came to you– again, still barely aware of the circumstances of life until you later realized as an adult.

whenever you’d get into an argument with your parents, you’d storm out with a slam of the door and would take the bus to helium arcade. at some point when you were in high school you and your family moved out of your childhood home into a small apartment. the change didn’t really affect you– maybe it did, but you don’t think it did.. or at least hoped it didn’t.

as you moved away to college, the very last day of being in your hometown, you decided that you’d visit helium arcade before the long drive to university. your dad’s van was filled with boxes and bags and you felt like a kid again asking your dad to stop by the arcade, much like when you were a small child.

“y’know what, kiddo? for old time’s sake.” he says, smiling at you; the lines around his eyes and mouth creasing as he brushes the grey hairs away from his face. your mom was at work so she couldn’t send you off but you didn’t blame her– life just gets in the way sometimes.

so that’s how you found yourself driving 2 hours just to go to helium arcade on the first day of your vacation. you stopped by the gas station to grab drinks and snacks, curated the perfect playlist, and sent a photo to your mom and dad in the family group chat of you in your car before starting the drive.

you hum and sing along to the songs on your playlist, a mixture of old school r&b, 90s rap, and pop hits sure to make your drive worth it and enjoyable. excitement was an understatement as you drove onto the highway, well on your way to helium arcade.

゛ ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆

the two hour long drive turned out to be a lot faster than you expected, all of it going by in a blink of an eye and you figured with the help of the playlist you curated, you had lost track of the time as you drove and suddenly the bright yellow building of helium arcade comes into view. you pull into the parking lot and see the familiar image of the balloon mural on the side of the building, smiling to yourself as you park right in front of the bright red balloon.

there’s an immovable smile on your face as you step out of your car, the sun is still shining and you can just feel that today was going to be a good day– or so you thought.

as you walk up to the entrance, your eyes land on a piece of paper taped to the door that reads, “Helium Arcade Closing Soon” with a date that would come within the next seven days. the same duration is your short week off. you pull the door open and the smell of the arcade is all too familiar, it brings you joy but you can’t help but feel a certain type of sadness knowing your favorite place as a child would be closing.

your eyes quickly scan the room and you see the owners that you remember all too well sitting behind the counter, waving at you. their eyes are as bright as their smiles as they see you again for the first time in a long time— you return the smile and wave as you walk over, the feeling of seeing someone you haven’t seen in a while settling in your chest.

a warm and familiar feeling yet somehow a bit tough and melancholic.

“yn! dear, it’s been so long. look at you now— such a beautiful woman you’ve become.” mrs. oh compliments as she rounds the corner of the counter and gives you a warm hug, squeezing your shoulders and admiring the person you are now, as if you were a child of their own. mr. oh stays behind the counter with a smile, commenting about how you haven’t visited in a while and how happy they are to see you.

“i know— it’s been a while, life has just gotten away from me, but i’m here!

oh! by the way, i saw the sign? you’re closing the shop?”

you hadn’t meant to dampen the mood but by the slow down turn of the corner of their mouths, you realize the topic is more somber than you may’ve thought. mr. and mrs. oh go on to say that they have so much love for helium arcade but they’re getting older and don’t have the capacity to work full time at the arcade anymore– they even go as far as to mention that both of their kids are also busy with their own lives and raising their kids with their partners that the arcade wasn’t sustainable for them anymore.

not to mention the ever growing change of the economy making it difficult to keep up with the expenses to keep a small business like helium arcade open and affordable.

the news saddened you and both of them noticed. they had basically watched you grow up so you were just like a child to them and you saw them as another set of parents as well. you’d appreciate their efforts to make your childhood a good one despite being people you weren’t even related to. the sheer joy you had on your face as a child to be in helium arcade was enough for them to treat you like their own.

your parents even trusted them to watch after you when they’d have to deal with something– they would drop you off at helium arcade and mr. and mrs. oh would watch after you from open to close.

“don’t be sad, dear. things like this happen— we’re just happy to have made it happen.”

you give mrs. oh a slanted smile, trying your best to not show how sad the news has made you so that you didn’t make them feel bad about the news and although they haven’t seen you in a long time– they knew you well enough to know that you were trying to mask your emotions with a smile that barely reached your cheeks and a gaze that was warm and empathetic.

“your favorite capsule machine is still here, go check it out. we’ve filled it with something new since the last time you’ve been here.” mr. oh says and the words instantly brighten your mood. you smile at them both and leave with a nod as you weave through the rows of games and machines, a few people playing bowling and a couple taking pictures inside of a photobooth before you’re able to find the gachapon machine you loved so much.

it wasn’t ever because of what was inside but– actually, you weren’t sure why you loved it so much. it was the second to last one out of the 10 different machines; gachapon number nine out of ten. there really wasn’t any reason that you liked this machine specifically, maybe it was because it was the machine that caught your eye or you always had good luck with getting the item you wanted or simply because of the memories.

when you approached it, the glass and metallic casing seemed to almost glow under the neon lights and it was like you were a kid again seeing a gachapon for the first time. you quickly put some cash into the converter machine and the sound of tokens falling through the shoot rings like your favorite song in your head.

three tokens.

that’s all it took to get one of the machines to dispense something.

you smile down at the golden tokens— now bronze and faded– in your hand and walk back to machine number nine. you take a good look at the previews of all of the possible rewards but it doesn’t show much besides the color of the capsules, but in true gacha fashion— the mystery and suspense of what you’re getting is half of the best part. you bite onto your bottom lip as you look at the inside of the machine through the glass and see exactly seven capsules, all of which are different colors.

there wasn’t a specific one that you wanted since you didn’t know what was inside but that only made you more excited. so you did what you had to do, inserted the tokens into the slots and turned the dial clockwards twice and the sound of the machine cranking and a capsule rolling down the shoot makes the smile on your face widen.

when you hear the capsule land, you close your eyes and slowly reach forward and pull the flap open to grab it. with your eyes still closed so that you wouldn’t ruin the surprise, you take one deep breath in and soon open them to find that the color of the gacha you had just won is…

hoonieyun notes: first chapter!! this one's a bit short since its just the introduction but trust more things and longer chapters will come!! thank you again for 2k followers i really love yall so bad !!! pls dont forget to vote down below on what capsule you'd like to be opened!!

ᡣ•.•𐭩♡ @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @manaah02 @zorange13 @firstclassjaylee @kristynaaah @17ericas @heeseung64 @leipforggy @s1rawb3rry @ddeonuswife @orxngebloods @xylatox @saccharinezennie @izzyy-stuff @yooonjnng

@wonuziex @soobundle1009 @mey-archive @si3rren @i-am-not-dal @i-peachesandstrawberries @laylasbunbunny @ikeu05

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#kiki diaries #enhypen #kpop #kpop au #kpop fanfic #kpop fic #kpop fanfiction #fanfiction #enha #enhypen au

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itslifetreesworld · 2 days ago

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My favorite Benthan looks in M: I (9/8): Bonus!

M:I 1-3

Ghost Protocol

Rouge Nation

Fallout

Dead Reckoning

The Final Reckoning

Weeeeeee it's bonus time! Did you think this was over? What's done is done when I said it's done...

Ok this time instead of a proper analysis, it's mostly me finding a reason to do these two looks, plus putting in everything in the previous ones that I missed or didn't have a chance, so it would be even more rambling than usual; if you know what I'm talking about (or not), here we go one last time (this time for real):

Mission Impossible (Bonus)

(spoilers alert for mi2 and m:i fallout)

The theme I went for the bonus was not-Ethan and not-Benji (kind of...), simply because I just can't shake away the beginning of mi2

It's a simple black/grey jacket with a light turtle neck but there's just something with this evil not-Ethan that's...hot

And it's just fascinating to me how much different there is between Ambrose in an Ethan's mask and the man himself

On that note I'm also putting this here because I was always a bit sad that I didn't really mention the precious (not)Ethan with a beanie in the first analysis

（This sweater kind of reminds me of the one he wears on the airplane in TFR）

And somehow Ambrose just decided that Ethan is the kind of sweater paws person. That's a very interesting character study good on you sir

And to balance it up here's the real Ethan in a Beanie

And for Benji I just love...the mask reveal scene in Fallout that was just SO GOOD I CANT EVEN

I love how cold/detached his demeanor was until he asked Ethan how he did under the mask. I mean he literally rescued the person who strapped him to a bomb and then had to pretend to be him, literally had to slip into Lane's mind to think and act like him, so I kind of just think this was not really "him" in that moment

So I believe this bit of reassurance with Ethan is also him grounding himself, trying to shake off the character and get rid of the remnants of Lane on him

With that here's another Benji under a mask!

He look so joyful hitting someone with a car good for you boy

Ok now the analysis are done, the rest is just me putting everything I found funny when going through the entire series again, might or might not be about costumes, just because I want to put it somewhere

love it when braces were still a common thing

There should also be a compilation of Ethan Hunt in a bowtie

really like this silhouette and it almost made it if I were to pick the brown jacket for mi3

There's just something about Benji in his soft silhouette holding a gun if you know what I'm talking about

Just this delicious Ethan when he can't find another way to get Benji back

I'm slightly wondering when Benji decided to go with glasses? He doesn't seem to be really needing them, was it part of the gadgets like in RN?

Ethan "I'm not mad" Hunt

Hmmm I think there's a slight tint of blue on that tie?

Ethan's hand finds Benji's shoulder without him even looking, out of habit grounding technique huh

Just really amazed by how even a chunky swimsuit can produce this kind of shape,,, of silhouette

AAAAAND...that's really all of it! For real this time! Thank you so much again for reading! I hope you enjoyed this bonus section, sending so much love (wave massively

Quick links to all of the analysis:

M:I 1-3

Ghost Protocol

Rouge Nation

Fallout

Dead Reckoning

The Final Reckoning

#mission impossible #ethan hunt #benji dunn #benthan #ethan hunt x benji dunn #costume analysis #character study #lifetreesworld #we can see each other around when mi9 comes out what do you say #and ive discovered that I dont know how to draw a gun

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taiscedulcinea · 15 hours ago

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The Empire Club | one

Paddy Mayne x Eoin McGonigal x Fem! Reader

summary: Paddy and Eoin take a night off at the Empire Club, and find you along the way.

word count: 7.2k

warnings: sexual implications, intense flirting,

a/n: Our first chapter, up and running! Be sure to check out our pinned post to check out all of our featured writers and give them some love, and let us know what you think! If you'd like to be added to a taglist, please don't be shy!

Days of rain had finally, mercifully given up their grasp on Cairo. Those gears of meagre wartime nightlife spurring back into their shuddering grind. The Empire Club's own pompous racket had joined in, and beckoned soldiers, spies, and servants of the night alike.

Major Robert Blair ‘Paddy’ Mayne and Lieutenant Eoin McGonigal had joined too, alongside the hordes of ‘Tommies’ with any sense of authority within the British army. Stooped up at the Empire Club; all having tried their best to clean up blood under their fingernails, sand from their hair, or demons from their heads. All for a chance, no doubt, to ‘get lucky’, whether with some ‘exotic’ beauty, a spying-seductress, or another soldier as some were so inclined to do.

Sauntering your way through the halls, you could almost call the social club a second home by now although it had been a short time. A blue silken dress flowing elegantly around your figure, heels clicking rhythmically with your practised, confident gait.

Another night of that blunt, feral, yet seductive Cairo espionage lay ahead. One of going over your files, remembering names, faces, and descriptions of their character before dressing the part of a perfect seductress with the intent to draw whatever you could from them.

It had only been a few weeks, though you’d found your faux-confidence increasing in the aspects of tackling the dance floor and the successes in the way your mouth had managed to pry information from loose-lipped soldiers. However, nearly all the information you’d managed to gather was either petty gossip or whispers of quiet desperation from lonely men who’d wished for just one night of pleasure before returning to base, which was not what you were there for.

But, one thing in particular piqued your interest.

The rumblings of secrecy, rebellion, and a group that operated like a vigilante unit under one Lieutenant David Stirling. Yes, his name was prominent in your notes, and you knew exactly why. If you managed an interview with him, your skills would be lauded, and your name thrown up in conversations with the likes of Ernie Pyle and Martha Gellhorn. It made a flush of excitement rumble in your chest, and for once, your enthusiasm on the dance floor needn’t be helped with liquor or mere imitation. It was the first of what you’d hope would be many breakthroughs in your investigation.

The very investigation you’d been thrown into by the hands of the British GHQ. You were to assess Stirling and his unit, a team that operated under stealth to topple enemy forces via surveillance operations and ambushes. Despite their apparent success, GHQ as a whole doubted its stability, and certainly the sanity of its members.

You knew there were members of the regiment hidden in the shadows of the Empire, and luring them out from their shadowy roosts was the difficult task ahead.

The two men had been sitting at a table on the second story by the balcony for some time now. They had passed the time smoking and sculling whiskey dirtily while leering down at those below on the dance floor, usually in judgemental glances at fellow soldiers. They drank quickly, like it was tainted water that shouldn't yet be drunk, and yet they were dying of thirst. Granted, it took a fair amount of effort not to act like they were still in the deep desert, having just gotten back from deployment.

Of course, they had met to celebrate their success in said deployment, dressing up smartly for each other more than anyone else. Paddy’s eyes had clung relentlessly to Eoin since they had left their tents, noting new lines on his face from the deployment and the way his dark curls had grown longer, alongside a smattering of facial hair framed his mouth and chin. He had grown untamed like the desert, sun-kissed, and slightly lighter in places and it drove Paddy wild, he wasn’t that innocent looking Catholic boy in the Rifles anymore.

They quietly toasted, one after another; one for furthering the liberation into Europe and the other for surviving.

Eoin turned to the waiter, nodding at the empty glass in his hand and mouthing a quick ‘thank you.’ They stopped counting rounds long ago, and the Lieutenant noticed that Paddy had grown quiet since their last toast.

He hasn’t said a single poem or moved a muscle. He’d just been…sitting.

They knew this familiar game they were playing. It had happened almost bi-weekly as of late before the deployment, with the lackluster orders from command driving the pair to the Empire over and over. It became a dance between them, Paddy would sit and wait for Eoin to fetch them both a treat, maybe a lonely soldier, a pretty young nurse on leave, both, it didn’t matter. When the time came, Paddy spent most of the encounters with his eyes fixed on Eoin.

Eoin always tracked Paddy’s eyesight, though discreetly, like a hawk; Paddy had always had such expressive eyes.

Eoin stared down from the balcony at the dance floor, shifting ever so slightly in his seat. The Dubliner didn’t even have to search for who Paddy was looking at so intently. A beautiful, elegant dress flows into his vision — seductive in its way — it makes your skin glow. It flaunts your curves just right, showing off a bit of skin on your legs and back. Eoin can’t help but feel giddy that the dress somehow resembles Paddy’s eyes. What a coincidence, Eoin thinks. A colour he’s grown to love. Ocean blue, expressive in a way that makes people want to look and pull themselves in closer to the relentless, endless sand, which constricts the capital.

Eoin takes this as the perfect opportunity to tease Paddy; he’s always one for delighting in a wee childish game of ”besting” him. Ruffle his feathers. Get him to bark and then scratch him under the chin just to marvel at how quick and easy it is for Paddy to heel.

“What’s the matter, Paddy? See something you like?”

“Not something, someone…”

“You scared? ‘The’ Paddy Mayne, is scared?!”

“Fuckin’— I’m not scared.” He exclaims, chugging his drink and slamming the glass down on the table, but he doesn’t move. At all. He bloody is scared.

“I’ve never seen someone make you nervous,” Eoin can’t help but grin, reaching to pat Paddy on the back.

“Easy to say for the man who’d hop up on a cracked plate.” Paddy growled.

They both watch, completely hypnotised by your dancing; how fluid you move your hips to the beat, the way you twist and dip with the man you’re with. You shine so brightly, bringing such flavor to the dance floor that it’s hard for Paddy and Eoin not to notice the man you're with. An older gentleman, tall, hair filled with too much gel, and a crooked smile that says, “I’m with the hottest girl in the room, cry about it.” A smile that Paddy wants to wipe from his face. He can’t seem to keep up with the rhythm as well; sometimes he’s too slow, sometimes he’s too fast, and other times he can’t catch the beat to save his life.

The music moves to a slower number, people catch their breath, and others leave the dance floor to converse at a table. You and the stranger get into a more intimate position, but nothing that tells of the relationship. It’s a little awkward to the eye.

Paddy thinks he should give this unknown person who isn’t fit to be in the presence of a woman like yourself a good smack round the ears.

Wrapping his arm around your back and pulling you to his chest, Paddy can briefly see you pull his hand up from off the drip in your back so that it rests in a more respectable manner. He just can’t get the hint, can he? He tries it again, and you give him a final warning. A soft smile, too pulled to the edges, a crinkle in your eye that could only be described as your patience thinning.

‘A shame it would be,’ Paddy thinks. ‘To have the man who’s touching you so indecently suffer a terrible fall. Say, out of the second-floor window and then—’

“You think she’ll bite as hard as you?” Eoin’s words snap him out of his daydream, tapping his glass from across the table.

“Think? Aye.” Paddy watches as the man slides his fingers down too close to your derrière, how your face grows wide, how quickly you pull your arm back to punch him square in the face.

“Keep your hands to yourself!“ you shout over the music, the sound reaches up to the balcony, and Paddy feels this cold chill go down his spine. It isn’t one of fear. No, far from it, you see, it’s one of excitement.

Desire.

Need.

Want.

“There she is,” Paddy huffs out.

“Ohh, I think she’s just as bad as you then.” Eoin turns around to ask for another drink from a passing waiter, this time one of a fruity nature, a little small but with a punch to it.

“Who’s that for?” Paddy says in confusion.

“Our new guest, of course. You can’t be rude in front of a lady. It’s not gentleman-like.”

Paddy watches as Eoin pushes up from the chair and begins to make his way up the stairs, still graceful in his movement despite the number of whiskeys under his belt.

Fuck, he’s doing it right now the mad eejit? Shit! Paddy quickly straightened his jacket, smoothed his hair back, and made sure the buttons on his collar were tidy. He jumps out of the chair, not caring to push it in as he follows right behind Eoin.

They arrived downstairs at the bar, glancing at each other briefly. “Oh,” Eoin hummed, fingertips brushing against Paddy’s as he slipped yet another drink he seemingly acquired from nowhere into his hands—whiskey, neat, bitter, with no junk in it. “You like that one, do you, love?” He teased.

Paddy glared at Eoin for noticing so quickly, but his eyes could barely leave where they were fixed, through the dark corridor of the stairs, across the dazzling lights of the dance floor, and onto you and your body as it swayed so freely. Eoin gestured Paddy forward through the doorway and to a round table near the bar, two chairs on one side, one on the other, its back to the dance floor. The two men sat next to each other, facing their target. Eoin clicked open his cigarette case with a quick, practised movement and placed one between his thin Cheshire-Cat-like lips. He leaned forward, grabbing a candle from the center of the table, and lit it, the warm light flickering and casting a delicious shadow over his sharp jawline.

Paddy has a hard time looking between both of you without feeling a warmth start to travel below his stomach.

His mind slipped into that endless oblivion of scenarios of Eoin that he had locked away. Yet this time, he was with another. Paddy was transfixed in his own mind as he imagined the sharpness of Eoin’s jawline as his tongue ran up your stomach, the way the veins in his hands would pop when his fingers threaded in your hair, pulling just hard enough to make it delicious for both of you.

“You’re doing it again, Pads,” Eoin remarked, snapping him out of his daydream once more, smoke flowing from his nostrils smoothly and lingering around him.

“Not tellin’ me what you’re thinkin’.”

Eoin smoked differently than any man Paddy had seen; he smoked like those spies whose only goals were seduction, always inhaling quickly to save time to emphasise the smoke flowing out of his mouth.

Paddy lifted the glass he cradled to his lips, he let the whiskey sit and burn in his mouth for a moment before he swallowed it.

“I’m thinking that I want her.” He nodded towards where you’d stepped off the dance floor to sit at the bar, not noticing everyone’s eyes on you. “And, that you better save your cigarettes. I’m winning your stupid little competition tonight lad.”

Eoin grinned, holding the cigarette between his teeth as he stood up, grabbing his drink.

He looked down at the Major from where he stood, a familiar glint in his eye, “Ah sure Paddy, look, let me introduce ourselves.”

The gentleman you had been dancing with before had made his way back over to you. You paid him little mind as he spoke in a posh accent, trying to buy you a drink.

The punter was swiftly removed in a firm movement and a mutter in a rough brogue of “Sorry, ‘old-boy’.” It was almost a shove, but not quite enough to cause a scene.

A new man replaced him.

He did not beg or ask kindly to buy you a drink; rather, he has already placed one in your hand. You assessed his face briefly; he was unconventionally attractive, you found you were already latching onto the lines near his eyes and the dimples that raised in his cheeks as he smiled at you. He was slender, yet you could tell he was strong, and he looked down at you from a fair height, even though you were perched on a tall bar chair.

He had a nice dusting of facial hair, one that you had become quite fond of on the men who shirked shaving. It framed across his jaw, chin, and upper lip, and it framed slender lips that he licked wickedly before he spoke, knowing your eyes would be on them. His eyes were two deep pits of a dark, dark brown, unlike any you’d seen; almost like they couldn’t hold expression, so his face had to work overtime. Perhaps that was why the lines you had already followed across his face marked it so. His hair was a mess of dark curls, loose and certainly likely to be reprimanded by higher-ups; you knew he probably didn’t care when your information had already informed you both of who he was, and that he had a dangerous wild dog at his side at all times, you knew he came as part of a pair.

Your brain spat out some rhetoric of tall, dark, and handsome soldiers, laughing at itself.

You spoke before he could.

Faux innocence could come later; you had wanted to test him first.

"So, you’re Major Mayne's little dog? Waiting patiently for him to let you move from his side, are you?” You emphasised your accent, you wanted to appear foreign and unfamiliar to him or his fellow soldiers.

A grin had spread across the dark-haired man’s face.

“And. Move. He has.” He quipped.

“Won’t you heel, boy?” You teased, looking up at him from your seat with that familiar, tipsy confidence that seemingly granted you the endless capabilities of torturing soldiers who thought they’d get lucky.

He shifted until he had almost curled himself against you on the chair, his hand had come to rest lightly on your hip, fingers brushed the silky blue material, savouring it.

A hummed lilt rested between you both, lowly and from deep in his chest, ‘Truefully, I think you’d find at the end of the day it's quite the opposite.’

You stood to meet the soldier. He was much, much taller than you.

He would have to wait out just a little longer for any satisfaction of niceties.

Turning, you met the direction of a burning gaze you had felt from afar whilst dancing with the Englishman.

Your hand found Eoin’s shoulder, squeezing the coarse fabric of his uniform. But your eyes had stayed fixed on the figure of a man sitting at a round table, whiskey in hand. He was barely visible through the dim light of the corners of the Empire, yet so present.

Your own eyes were shining and mischievous, they made his lips part as you leaned up towards what you had heard was his most prized possession, mouth brushing against his ear.

“Tell me, Lieutenant,” You say slowly, “Is there one bed in your hotel… or two?”

The soldier's smile grew like a proud street-cat who’d caught a canary. The grip on his glass tighter than the tension in his pants.

“Why don’t ya come have a drink with us? Maybe you’ll find out.” He retorted almost immediately, unaffected by your suggestion.

“Kindly,” you had agreed, and were quickly met with a gentle hand guiding you towards the table where the other man sat, staring at you both.

He blinked slowly as you released your grip on his partners’ arm to sit, smiling into your drink as you raised the glass. He looked between the two of you, the knowing glances you threw at each other, and pressed his drink firmly onto the bar table.

“Right, what the fuck were youse two schemin’ about? Or am I going to have to spend another night in the glasshouse.” He spoke crudely.

Your eyes flicked to him, a rush of satisfaction coursed through your body at the look of madness on his face. You’d heard of a rabid ‘mad-dog’ Major and his proclivity for… chaos, but you’d never think it’d take so little to drive him to that point.

You had never even seen a picture of the now well-known Major before; somehow, records had been misplaced throughout GHQ’s scramble to reinforce Tobruk earlier in the year before you had joined. To your almost dismay, what you saw in front of you made you shuffle in your seat slightly as your eyes moved between him and his companion. You hated to admit that, already, the pair were indeed an addictive sight.

They complemented each other. Paddy was rugged, intense, and physically imposing. Even as he sat, his hair was slightly tousled as if he had been running his hands through it repeatedly, and a beard, lighter than the hair on his head and definitely out of regulation, framed his jaw. His expression is that of a man weighed down by brooding rage, trauma, and restless energy.

Your index and middle fingers swirl into your drink, catching the stem of your cherry with your fingertips. You press the fruit to your lips, not yet pulling it between your teeth.

“You’re both what is it, Scottish? Then?, aren’t you?” Faux-innocence, You looked between the two of them

Immediate looks of anger glared back.

You hummed, “What’s the other one…., Ireland?”

The darker-haired man nodded his head slowly.

“Yes, but from different sides you see. I’m Catholic and he’s Protestant, and you see there’s been quite a strug–”

“Don’t bring that shite in here, Eoin.” Paddy gruffly muttered.

“Oh, I see. So a truce, of sorts?” You grinned. “Well gentlemen, differences aside, I do love a man with an accent…”

“Aye, and I’m sensing you’ve got an accent that would make me normally act in ways which would be considered un-savourable by my superiors?” Paddy pointed a finger at you without hesitation of its rude connotations.

“Act un-savourable in the ways of violence or sex?” You say matter-of-factly.

Paddy shifted uncomfortably, adjusting the belt secured around his waist. Eoin watched on with glistening eyes, his tongue ran against his bottom lip in pure, seductive delight.

“None the matter, so, tell me, how did… this little situation arise?” You had emphasised your accent once more, it mixed with your rather upper-class English one to most infuriating effect in some; worked wonders to rile up the rougher working-class men of the British army so deliciously.

Your teeth caught the cherry, and pulled it past your lips. Watching intently as Paddy’s Adam’s apple bob at the sight of it. You didn’t have to wait for them to answer your question, not when it didn’t really matter, not now.

It wouldn’t affect how the night would end, and you know it will only end one way.

“So, all French are really like this, cocky and prideful.” Paddy said with a hint of malice. He thought back to Augustin, how he tried to shoot him on the hilltop, beat him, and yet he still lost. At full advantage but a terrible execution. “Oui, we bring this superiority complex with us, just a little something to remind us of home.” You said with a smile.

“I am not entirely French though, I spent most of my life in London, my mother is a French heiress, though she does own a block in St. John's Wood”

“And ya’ don’t know the entire nation of Ireland?” Eoin muttered under his breath, unheard by the two of you.

“ – So I would say the French have invaded your country once again.” You finished.

Eoin chuckled a light hum of disapproving intrigue in his throat, at your dangerous inaccuracy.

“‘Your country?’, Oh…, you’re going to get my–.” Paddy spat out.

You had cut him off before he could finish, “I never thought Major Paddy Mayne of the SAS would be making eyes at me from across a bar in Cairo… I can’t say I’m mad he did, though.” You paused to wait for any reaction in your revealed intelligence, but both men remained still.

You had continued bluntly, “Well, you see there's a perfectly respectable whorehouse down the road. If you think you’re going to get lucky tonight, boys, I advise that you look elsewhere.” You grinned at them both devilishly, and gestured vaguely behind you, placing the empty glass on the table and reaching for the chair's arms to move on.

Paddy clicked his tongue at that, shaking his head slightly at the words, eyes never leaving your own with a piercing gaze.

“Girl, the problem is, my colleague here wouldn’t have the tide take him out even if he begged it to.” Paddy quipped, the darker-haired man rolled his eyes, stooped over examining the quickly emptying contents of his whiskey glass.

“Oh, I don’t think that would be a problem, but, you’re well and truly a problem from my point of view.” You sighed, “Just so you know, my father has taught me to never be fond of the Irish.” came bluntly from your lips.

Eoin relished in your boldness, taking a drag of a new cigarette, he closed his eyes, head lulled back in release. “God… how I love a struggle,” he almost moaned out, smoke pouring out of his mouth into the air above him as he continued. “Y’know, there’s somethin'..., somethin’ they say about the luck of the Irish." The syllables of Eoin’s accent were so rich, like a gooey, sinful pudding, opposite to Paddy’s harsh bark of a tone thus far. You hate how you must admit that it did work wonders for that Catholic boy, the filthy sinner.

He didn’t hide that fact.

The Major’s companion, who acted seemingly at times as a ‘talking piece’, continued, his eyes blown so dark as they bore into your own unwavering stare.

"Paddy and I, well, we could… Oh, only, y'know darlin’, show you what's that all about." He said softly.

Laughing lightly you switched your gaze back to Paddy, “Silver tongue on this one, hmm?” Raising your eyebrows as you pointed at Eoin, just as Paddy had done to yourself, eyes fixed on Paddy’s darkened look.

Eoin placed his still-burning cigarette on the ashtray between yourselves, hand running through his dark curls as he shook his head.

“Careful now,” Paddy growled out. It was the first time he had spoken in a while.

You quickly reached forward to pick up the cigarette Eoin had left, eyes locking on the Lieutenant’s surprised face as you slowly took a long drag from it.

Reaching back to where you had plucked it from the ashtray that sat in front of him, you ashed it, feeling his dark eyes weighing heavily on your chest as your dress had shifted down. You smirked lightly as you placed the cigarette, still lit, back in the fingers of its owner, hands brushing together slightly. Eoin brought the cigarette to his lips and a low sound of approval came from somewhere deep in the man's throat as he inhaled, looking briefly at the ceiling again like before. You had remained leaning forward, watching smoke flow out of his nose and circling his dark eyes as they fell, pinning themselves on you.

He spoke as he exhaled, the last of the smoke almost billowed in your face.

“Tá mé ag dul ithe do fliuch dtí go scréach tú. Laistigh d'orlach de do shaol, a thaisce.”

The language, foreign and new to your ears, spilled like liquid quickly over his tongue. It was quiet, low, barely able to be heard over the clatter of the club's music and shuffling of bodies. You would certainly not have heard it if you hadn’t been leaning towards him at the time.

He spoke it to you fluently without hesitation, as if you had understood it, and you were the only one it was meant for.

Eoin always thanked his ‘da’ secretly in these moments for being so determined to keep his sons educated in the language, even when they moved to Belfast from Dún Laoghaire. Even though he openly used it for sin it was a surviving gift to him from his family, though frowned upon by many pompous Brits alike, to this the words ‘every word of Irish spoken is a bullet fired for Irish freedom…’ rattled around his head.

Your eyes perked up at him. You have no idea what he said; likely just some drunken curse or old-timey saying about stealing cigarettes, you had thought. Though that language did roll beautifully into your head. It nestled itself into a table of its own in the corner of your mind, a ‘reserved’ marker on it for later, you had thought.

You smiled at him kindly, unaware of the true, filthily blatant intention behind his speech.

Eoin had remained that unnerving dead still he had shown throughout the night when he said it, hands unmoving against the table.

You had noticed this ability to remain unnaturally still multiple times so far, at the bar and now at the table. It sends a few shivers down the small of your back as you recall rumours that the SAS, a colleague had written so, ‘An unrelenting sniper with an unnatural calm and precision unseen in the British ranks appears to haunt the ‘phantom regiment’, claiming kill-after-kill in the streets of Tobruk with a hand off still-righteousness’.

You brushed it off as an unintelligible contribution to the conversation. Perhaps you would broach your suspicion later with him, hopefully alone.

Turning your attention to the other Irishman you spoke;

"Major Mayne, I've heard about some wild men that a certain Commander Stirling lets run rampant through the desert." Mayne cocked his head keenly.

"I thought you would be so kind as to tell me why they call you such animals; you both just simply appear as two dashing soldiers to me." You returned from your lean into Eoin’s proximity, into the back of your chair, and ran your finger across the rim of the empty glass.

Paddy choked on his drink slightly, "Ohhoohoo, no… get tae fuck now," he drawls.

Eoin sneered in your peripheral, his tone dripped with something pent-up and raw, clawing to get out.

“Wouldn’t mind showin’ ya,” Eoin remarked.

“Ah, Major Mayne, it appears there is that very animal nature I was just discussing with you.” You smiled politely, and nodded your head slightly.

The look on Mayne’s face was priceless as he turned towards Eoin, a face of cold terror and anger which you imagined no Nazi war machine or Italian mob could replicate.

Eoin placed the cigarette back into the ashtray and pushed it lightly towards you, having caught onto your want to share. You admired the cigarette lightly as you picked it up.

It wouldn't last much longer, especially within those greedy appetite of your smoking partner, you’d hoped you’d share its fate.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a run-in with a spy, y’know.” Eoin mused, downing the last of his drink and looking for a waiter for another.

“I would say I'm less of a spy, rather a very committed journalist,” you replied, leaning back on your chair. You tried to take in both the men before you; they were perhaps the keys to your true goal, and you were indeed delighted to use them.

“I’m looking for an interview with a certain Commander Stirling.” You spoke bluntly.

“The powers at hand want to know about the mental fragility of your almighty ‘ghost’ Commander.”

“You mean that old fucker Montgomery up in GHQ?” Paddy questioned, eyes not fixed on yours, but rather the lines of your neck. He continues, “I don’t believe you…, he doesn’t care for his men. You know, at first, looking at you, I’d have entertained the idea of some conversation, but now, I don’t think that’d be in our objective.” He shot Eoin a glance. “There's plenty of other soldiers here for you to pester and sulk at.” Paddy tried to speak for both of them, his hand reaching for his coat, which lay on the seat next to him.

“No. Go on.” Eoin had spoken up from where he had been nursing his latest drink and listening intently. You had avoided his gaze since his earlier comment. Your eyebrow quirks as you see how still Paddy went when the other Irishman said it, hand retracting from his coat, and stare fixed forward at you.

There is something much deeper going on here.

“I don't mix work and pleasure," You said, as cigarette smoke billowed from your lips.

"Gets too messy."

Eoin grinned boyishly, as he placed his drink on the table and leant his hand against his chin.

"It's a fair exchange, I'd say."

You had committed to surrendering your hard-to-get game by now, but both of the men were just too much of an indulgence to resist.

"No," you corrected him, eyes sliding between the pair. "Rather, you two...definitely would be just for pleasure."

The air around the trio seemed strained with a sudden heavy weight.

“So…” You shifted in your seat, stubbing the cigarette out in the ashtray as you reached down for your leather bag, it kept every tool you needed to conduct your business, including your trusted Welrod pistol.

“I thought I’d share a bit of the files I have on you two gentlemen.” You spoke as you reached into your bag, you had planned a little game with yourself, a ‘lucky dip’ as such, who would go first in your test of their patience.

“Fuck,” you had sworn quietly under your breath as you pulled out the worn paper.

Paddy’s file.

You clear your throat, nerves hopefully not showing as you open the file, hand brushing the hem of your dress down. “Major Robert Blair ‘Paddy’ Mayne…” you begin, “From Ireland again is it, yes?”

Paddy’s eyes had been burning a hole straight through you since Eoin had told you to ‘go on’.

“Northern Ireland. Ulster.” Paddy snarled.

You knew now exactly how to work them up in this scenario. The pride of the Irish never ceased to amaze, regardless of what ‘side’ or what denomination they subscribed to.

“Known for your courageous acts at the Battle of Litani River in Lebanon, against the Vichy French Forces and your, I read here…” You chose a snobbish tone for your last comment. “...sporting successes back home, yes?”

You shifted in your seat.

“Very well, however, but unfortunately, any other such accomplishments have seemed to have been overlooked in this report, Mr. Mayne, I only see accounts of battery, military imprisonment, and general barbarism?”

Paddy huffed in front of you as Eoin laughed lightly into his whiskey glass. Your eyes follow Paddy’s arms as they cross against his chest, they were strong and smattered with veins exaggerated by the heat of the social club.

You’ve already pushed your luck with the Major enough by now. Placing the report gently back into your bag, you reached for the other.

A part of you was more nervous to assess the other Irishman on account of his actual penchant to speak.

The report wavered in your hand slightly as you prepared the next mockery, you crossed your legs and held the page high to cover your face and view of the two soldiers in front of you.

You began, in a forcefully dulled voice as you had read the report, a spark of thought had quickly shot through you, as you realized you hadn't even said the taller man's name, one that the French would most definitely balk at. You had taken your opportunity with glee. “And Second-Lieutenant, no, sorry, now Lieutenant, I believe? On account of your actions towards the saving of Tobruk, no? —”

The Lieutenant nodded shortly, as your eyes graced his profile, preparing the next intentional mistake.

“--- Ian, no, Owan, er, Ewan? Oh, I’m so sorry, I don’t think I have quite the grasp on your language, Mac-gong-ey-gol?” You sound it out dimly. “… from err, Dublin originally, oh did I say that one right? I must have, yes?” Dropping the paper onto the table, you had grinned up at the dark-haired man, watching as one eye twitched in his unique manner of calm anger.

Paddy snarled through gritted teeth next to him at your inaccuracies.

Protective, defensive… oh, the dog that he was, you had thought.

You shuffled in your seat. “I do apologise, boys.”

Paddy’s short leash had snapped, it appears.

“Don’t say sorry. We’ll have to fuck that name into your mouth proper to get you saying it right.”

Oh, there he was.

You struck like a serpent with your next onslaught.

“I guess I've gone and what is it ‘gotten your goat’, have I not, Paddy?” You grin at the Major, aware of the strange saying that the brutally beaten man had echoed from Mayne to you. You had convinced him to release the information on the pair's whereabouts by giving him a rather stiff handjob through his bandages.

Eoin spoke up again as Paddy vibrated with rage in his seat. "Oh, you’ve only gone and done it now, love.”

He placed his empty glass carefully on the table in front of him, clicking his tongue lightly to gain your full attention.

“To be very frank with you, journalist, or spy, or whatever ya’ are. We couldn't give two fucks who'd ya’ want an interview with, could be Stirling or the Pope for that matter.” He glanced at Paddy, still livid in his seat next to him.

“We just want what you've got hidden behind that dress for us."

He smiled innocently, it was a practised term.

“Paddy’s been wanting it all night, but,” he pauses. “He’s too scared to let you know.”

The ring on Paddy‘s little finger wrapped with a short, sharp metallic sound against the table at his companions' admittance. You had wondered why he wore that ring in the first place, searching your mind for any references to it that you had come across in your readings.

He appeared to be almost testing the words on his mouth before he spoke;

“I’ll have to warn ye’;”

He paused, sighing lightly.

“You see the thing with the Irish, I have come to believe, is that we fuck dirtier than the Brits.”

Eoin perked up next to him, “Oh, do we now?” It rolled off his tongue alongside an air of slight surprise and a stream of smoke as he ashed his cigarette out in front of him.

“See, there he is coming out of his shell again, he’s been so nervous all night, so he has.”

The Lieutenant stood from his chair.

You noted that he swayed slightly, the only sign apart from the filthy looks he gave you that the alcohol and nicotine had gotten to him in any manner.

“Oh, but now I’m a keen kitten Eoin…” Paddy drawled.

Eoin made a ‘purring’ sound at you and Paddy mockingly, voice slightly scratchy and harsh, no doubt from the aforementioned numerous whiskeys and the chain-smoking.

He laughed lightly, reaching over to clasp a hand on Paddy’s shoulder.

“Come on, you both. I’ll call for a car.”

Eoin looked hopefully out the window, it was a small tin box of a car, ‘like a fuckin’ toaster’, made for two in the back and two upfront. Some English rubbish of course, an Austin or a Morris no doubt, nevertheless you’d all crammed yourselves in the cab space, bodies touching, the air warm.

You were in between the two men, and they’re both too close and yet not close enough. You bit your lip, anticipation growing in your belly.

Anything for the job right?

But no. This is not just for the job. Not entirely at least. You were smart. Could’ve found some other way, something that didn’t include what you were sure was going to get you ruined within an inch of your life by two of the most indulging men you’d ever seen but, well a girl’s got to eat.

Though, from the way they keep throwing looks at you from your periphery, you’re more than sure that they’d be the ones devouring you.

The car rattled as it trundled along to the hotel through the remains of the recent rain’s mud, jostling the passengers within and after a hard right turn, it pushed you across into Paddy. You made a startled noise in the back of your throat, hand reached out to steady yourself, it landed on his thigh. He twitched when you went to pull yourself away, but he stopped you.

He took a deep breath like he was trying to focus on something. And he was. He could feel his heartbeat resuming its heavy thudding from the bar, could feel your warm hand over his government-issued trousers.

He made that habitual clicking sound with his mouth and shook his head like he was gearing up to scold you, but instead, he gave you just a cruel little smirk. He took your hand, the first time touching you, his hands rough, guiding your own smaller ones to place over his hot lap. He ground your open palm into it, once, twice, and you let him manipulate your hand the way he wants. Let him use you, he grunted quietly, his hips rising to meet your hand, the rumble and bumps of the car’s suspension aiding his movements, the darkness shadowing his actions.

Your body went tense as you felt Paddy’s knuckles brush the inside of your knee, just where the sequined fabric of your dress stops. You glanced at Eoin. His face was still practically pressed up to the sand-speckled glass, watching the Cairo nightlife pass by outside the window, completely oblivious.

Paddy pulled the fabric of the dress up, just a bit further over your thighs, slowly and carefully, so as not to make much noise. Your eyes are both on Eoin, and it registers in your mind how strange it is that Eoin has become the center of your escapade despite his ignorance. You watched the way the tendons of Paddy’s hands shift, his thick fingers gripping the fabric to push it aside to expose you to the warm environment of the car, to his hungry eyes that were eager to consume what part of you he could.

The movements suddenly stilled and a small gasp of ‘fucks sake’ came from the man using you like a tool to get himself off. The hand of the Irishman to your right had reached across your lap, and gripped the Major’s hand tightly, stalling its movements and smoothing your dress back down.

The car stalled to a halt with it.

A pout dimmed your face, you had been right there with Paddy, underwear undoubtedly ruined, and at your mercy for the man that you had chased in your head and in real life for weeks now. Eoin had, unfortunately, caught onto the game by now, and looked over at you with an apologetic expression on his dark features.

“I’m sorry, Dove. That’s all Paddy’s fault. You’ll have to make him apologise for that one later.”

It’s like the animal in him could smell how turned on you were. But unlike Paddy, who saw it as a problem that needed to be solved, Eoin saw it as a treat to be savored, of a prize won by patience and time spent thinking of ways to claim it.

Paddy sputtered a jumble of swear words in retaliation. Eoin just shot him a dark look; you knew he was tightening the leash again with his gaze.

“This is us.” He spoke, lifting his hand at you both as he cracked the door open, the flush of cool night air releasing the cabin of its torturous heat and tension.

You couldn’t wait to fling yourself from the stifling heat of the car, and by God’s grace, it was a touch cooler outside, though still warm, even given the time of night. Eoin’s firm hand made its way to the small of your back, his fingers tickling the bare skin of your back for a moment before they flattened and guided you forward and through the doors of the hotel.

It’s nice, perfectly respectable for the two men who can’t seem to rush up to their suite.

Though Paddy seems far more anxious, a few strides ahead of the two of you, with Eoin taking his time to stroll beside you through the humble lobby.

He sent a small wave to the clerk, offering a charming smile and a polite “good evening”; and you followed suit with an awkward smile, far too aware of your warm cheeks and dazed expression to maintain eye contact. The man at the desk smiled back politely and bowed his head in greeting.

Paddy was waiting at the door of the lift already, he looked back at the two of you, and you couldn’t tell if he’s incredibly miffed or if he wanted to strangle Eoin with his tongue down his throat. You wagered it’s a bit of both. His eyes found yours and travelled down the length of your body, they had grown hungry. It was the first time he’d seen you in proper lighting, the glow around you beaming off your sequined body, the rise and fall of your chest hypnotic. If he had thought you looked incredible in the smoky haze of the dim bar, now you looked delicious.

Ready for him to devour.

“Someone ought to teach you patience, Paddy” Eoin remarked, his tone casual. But an underlying warning to it, you could tell by the way Paddy shifts, his mouth turned down slightly.

Paddy still fought back however, “And, someone ought to teach you when to be done with patience and shut your pretty mouth” Eoin simply shook his head, more amused than offended.

“Perhaps we’ve time for both” you chime in as you reached out to lean into Paddy, pulling away from Eoin. He allowed you, squeezing your hip before placing his hands in his pockets, and he didn’t need to attempt composure; it seems to come to him naturally.

Paddy wouldn’t know composure if it shot him in the foot.

#paddy mayne x reader #eoin mcgonigal x reader #paddy mayne x eoin mcgonigal x reader #paddy mayne x fem!reader #eoin mcgonigal x fem!reader #jack o'connell #jack o'connell x reader #sas rogue heroes #sas rogue heroes au

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adaine · 2 days ago

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⁸⁴⁾ “are you sure you’re not mad at me?” + landoscar (or dealer's choice, if you're not vibing)

“Are you sure you’re not mad at me?” he hears Lando ask.

Oscar had thought he was alone by now. Silverstone’s over and the team’s gone to celebrate. He figured that if he napped in his driver’s room and waited a bit, he’d be late enough leaving the paddock that the only people he’d run into would be Alpine staff caught up in a late debrief.

He hadn’t expected to find Lando, half-asleep on a chair in McLaren hospitality instead of in a club somewhere partying.

“Why are you still here?” he asks. He doesn’t mean for it to come off as snippy, but he can see hurt in Lando’s furrowed brow.

“I don’t know,” Lando shrugs, not quite meeting his eyes. “Wanted to make sure we were good, I guess. You seemed off, after.”

No shit, he was off. The win was meant to be his, and it was torn from him by a stupid fucking penalty. And sure, Lando was the one to benefit off it and he’s nipping at his heels in the driver’s standing, but that doesn’t mean he’s the right target for Oscar’s frustration. He’s mature enough to see that.

“Well, I’m not mad at you,” he tells him.

Lando frowns. “I’m not sure that I believe you.”

He snorts. “It’s not your fault. If I start holding your wins against you, I reckon this whole growing old together thing wouldn’t quite pan out.”

“Romantic,” Lando jokes, reaching over to pat the chair across from him. “I suppose we should have a proper chat then.”

Oscar doesn’t want to talk about the race. He’s spent all night avoiding calls from Mark Webber, Logan, and his mum. That’s how much he does not want to talk about the race.

He finds himself sitting next to Lando anyway. It’s late, and he’s there, and he looks stupidly soft in an oversized team sweatshirt with the hood pulled over his curls.

“If I were going to be mad at anyone, it would be Max,” he tells him, hoping it’ll strike the tension from his shoulders. “He’s the one that can’t stop complaining on the radio.”

Lando perks up in interest. “Are you mad at Max?”

After thinking about it for a second, he shakes his head. “I’m mad at the stewards.”

“Lot of pricks, aren’t they?” Lando nods along.

“I don’t want to talk about the race,” he tells him finally. He can’t hash this out right now. “Except to say congratulations, I guess. It’s your home race. You shouldn’t be holed up in hospitality with me at half ten.”

“Well, I did fall asleep,” he defends. “Wasn’t just wringing my hands all night like a fucking idiot.”

He says it like he was wringing his hands all night like an idiot. Not that Oscar thinks he’s an idiot.

“So you didn’t eat?” Oscar asks, furrowing his eyebrows. “Winning your home race at least calls for a nice meal.”

“Snagged a croissant that never made it off the catering cart.” He wrinkles his nose. “It was quite stale, actually. Totally not worth the empty calories.”

Lando won his home race in front of pretty much his entire family, and he’s been stuck here waiting for Oscar all night, while they’re probably waiting on him. He isn’t sure whether he should feel touched or guilty.

“Well, all I’ve had is half a protein bar,” he replies, cautiously chewing at his lip. “If you want to grab a kebab or something, I’m sure somewhere’s still open.”

The idea of the two of them just rolling into a kebab shop completely sober in the middle of the night is fucking hilarious, especially considering it’s bound to be packed with drunk racegoers, but it beats going back to the hotel, he figures, and this way he can at least buy dinner and pay Lando back for the trouble.

“Don’t think that’s what Jon had in mind when he gave me a pass on the meal plan for the night, but that sounds fucking mega right now.”

As they walk off towards the car park, a peace passes over them and it makes Oscar smile. It’s nice that they can be normal, even when it’s like this.

#not explicitly romantic but yk. the greater narrative #f1 drabbles #landoscar #my fic #answered #anonymous #ask games

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mimie-and-the-visions · 2 days ago

Note

AAAAA IM OBSESSED WITH YOUR WRITING

May I request a boothill x reader or boothill flirting headcanons? only if you want to ofc(ㆀ˘･з･˘)

Also can I be kiwi anon?🥝 :3

Admirin' the view

Boothill - Flirting Hcs

▪︎ First of all, very smooth talker. Fork found in kitchen. His voice and words seem to slow time itself as he steals minuets and hours from you without even trying. His robotic tone, accent and the.. interesting curse words.. are certainly easy to get distracted by. (Doesn't help that the guy LOVES to talk and has a thousand awesome stories about how TOTALLY badass he is dfsnjkfnsgfsdlkgfn)

▪︎ Might be a bit of a showoff, always sneaking a sly glance over his shoulder to check if you saw how cool he looked (definitely not giggling and kicking his feet internally if you have a cute awestruck expression.. definitely). As smooth and charming as he is i can still imagine him as the type to say "this ones for you!" before fucking up whatever cool stunt he's trying to pull.

▪︎If you're easily flustered he only doubles down on his words, leaning down closer to your face with a grin as you continuously shy and turn away. He's quite good at reading expressions and tone, but despite knowing well when to quit he cant help but want to push you flustered buttons some more. You're just too cute! (Definitely the type to get cuteness aggression, he just wants to chew on you and shake you around)

▪︎ He refrains from any sort of physical stuff, and while its true that its mostly out of respect that he keeps his hands to himself, its also due to an insecurity about his form. He thinks being mostly made of metal will turn any soft touch into a cold and unwanted discomfort.

▪︎ He was perhaps not shy about touch before his new body, and now lives with the same yearning to show and feel the affection, but now denies himself to reach out in that way. Out of habit he might lean in or place a hand on your shoulder, feeling guilty as you yelp at the sensation of cold metal.

▪︎ Thing is, he would struggle a bit if it was reciprocated, especially if its some form for physical affection. Something as simple as a hand on top of his, a slight lean against his arm or your head on his shoulder as you talk. The way you move in and reach out as though it was natural to, not even realizing what you do to him. For such a smooth guy he sure loses composure around you.

You look out at the sky, standing on the balcony of a fancy airship in Penacony. Boothill leaned on the railing next to you watching your awestruck expression with a proud smile.

"You always find such cool places! How have you been around all of Penacony?? This place is massive!"

Their voice is so pretty.. the wind is carrying it slightly too, they sound almost distant.. like they're talking from the sky itself.

"-and the tower! ... -its all so shiny and bright from up here ... -"

Has their hair always been this detailed? They look so nice against the clouds..

"Boothill..?"

His hat starts to slide off a bit as he only leans further into his hand, not even registering how you're facing him with a confused expression.

"Boothill!"

He finally blinks and comes back to earth.

"H-huh?? Oh- scuse me.. got a bit lost there. Can't blame a guy though can ya? Im doin' the same thing as you sugar.. admirin' the view~"

Tihihihihihihihihihihi

#🥝anon #mimie writings #boothill #hsr boothill #boothill x reader #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x reader

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alexanderlightweight · 3 days ago

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hi! I have no idea if prompts are still open (it is decidedly not Wednesday - on that note I hope you have an amazing weekend) but I was wondering if you could add a little to the verse where Alec prays to his ancestors? (I'm an absolute slut for anything pagan/occult, so this verse ticks every box I have)

I would really love to see if there are any... hidden/obscure practices that have been lost to time and censorship. would Magnus recognise them? How did he come to this practice? an obscure book hidden in an abandoned corner of the library? an accident whilst at the family graveyard?

anyway thank you so much for indulging my questions (and for sharing your incredible writing) . have a good day/night and please tell nightshade he's a very good boy for me!

(sorry for the long ask and wow there are a lot of parenthesis)

hi!! this is from a while ago (and back when i did take prompts randomly as well) so ofc i'm still answering! (it just took a while) because now i only accept prompts when the ask box is 'prompts open'. but that's only a couple months old.

i hope you enjoy it!! last part of fic here.

<3 lumine

*long asks are fun! also magnus will recognize some practices but not as nephilim, it's just that they'll be similar in nature to ones he recognizes and has seen/used. so sometimes magnus will be able to guess what alec's doing and they're also very compatible so alec and magnus can pull each other into rituals that normally shouldn't be shared. also magnus has extra immunity because of Asmodeus' blood. the part of alec figuring this out is here. (also all nephilim are technically related -something all of them forget- because raziel's blood is half of all their shared biology )

thank you i will!! he is currently snuggling under my feet but he wiggled a bit when i told him someone sent him 'good boys' (aka where i singsong repeat good boy until i run out of breathe) i also use a lot of parenthesis! they're nice. (Nightshade got excited and did the turn around in a circle and lay back down)

pray to the hunters

Alexander is frowning when Magnus finally sees him.

Oh he’s known his boy was there, but since Alexander was practicing a surprising about of discretion concerning his presence, Magnus let it be.

Until his patience ran out.

He finds Alexander in his professional office which is not a place he’s shown Alexander, but one he’s pleased his boy’s made use of. The fact that Alexander is willing to trespass without first talking to Magnus means he feels he belongs here, in Magnus’ private and personal space and he’s right.

Alexander belongs anywhere that is Magnus’.

Yet that doesn’t change the fact that Alexander is frowning as he looks down through the one-way window that shows the club below. He looks at the writhing crowd that moves to the tempo of the music and the pulse of the magic as if barely seeing them.

“What displeases you darling?”

Alexander looks to him, face smoothing into nothing but the turn of his lips to show his pleasure at Magnus’ arrival.

“I have a boon to ask.”

Magnus’ heart stutters though his breathing stays steady and his magic throbs with ravenous hunger at the idea.

A boon puts Alexander in Magnus’ debt.

A boon gives Magnus yet another hold over Alexander and unless the boon broke a personal limit, Magnus can’t imagine denying Alexander for even a moment.

“Tell me what it is and if it’s within my power, I will grant it.”

Magnus doesn’t mention that if it’s not in his power, he will simply expand his power until it is. There is little that means as much as securing more of Alexander’s affections and interests and most delightfully, his gratitude.

“There are traditions. Old ones, to carry a piece of another. A token of sorts.”

“Another?” Magnus mocks, because he doubts that’s the word actually used.

Alexander rolls his eyes, not even bothering to hide it, and gives Magnus a look. It reminds Magnus that teasing Alexander has it’s own consequences as his boy is liable to bite back. And Magnus is no more eager to… confine the limits of their relationship to mere words just yet.

“Continue.” Magnus allows with a flick of his fingers and Alexander catches his hand lightning quick; only to bring Magnus’ palm to his lips for a cool kiss that has Magnus sighing in contentment.

Truly, he has no interest in returning to his court. Not when Alexander is here and so near and so willing to play with Magnus in turn.

Especially since even when he teases, Alexander’s words and actions are formed and threaded with sincerity.

“Oh I’m not boring you?” Alexander’s expression doesn’t change but his eyes gleam and Magnus gives a deep chuckle and uses the palm Alexander’s holding to pull his boy close. Close enough that he can kiss Alexander’s cheek, adding just a hint of teeth against his boy's jaw.

“No, not in the least.”

A knock rings at the door and before anything can happen the wards activate with a twitch of Magnus’ eye. And — unheard to Alexander — the daring intruder and near interrupter will be met with a rebound of equal force.

Magnus will not tolerate interruptions to any of his moments with Alexander. Perhaps when things are more widely known. When Magnus is sure that all but the most reclusive of the shadowworld known who Alexander belongs to. Especially once those of the downworld who work with death realize that Alexander also walks their path. It’s only rumors and legends, nothing truly confirmed of nephilim who dabble in necromancy. And while Magnus’ goal in the end is having a consort of equal ability and devastation; he can’t deny how many would love to steal Alexander from him.

Not that Alexander would turn from Magnus, it’s simply that it won’t stop others from trying.

“You were saying, darling?” Magnus coaxes, voice soothing and lined with promised threat.

Alexander relaxes as intended with an amused smirk at the door, correctly interpreting who the threat is for. His teeth gleam like sun-bleached bone as they flash sharply in a grin that has an almost boyish charm that makes him look dangerously innocent.

If Alexander ever wished or learned to use his face to hunt prey rather than his instincts and talent, then he would be instantly successfully.

Or perhaps Magnus is simply entranced by Alexander in every way.

“It can be worn as jewelry such as rings or a band, or—” Alexander’s eyes glitter like he knows a secret he thinks Magnus will enjoy, “a piercing. Something from another intimately entwined with ones own body.”

Alexander doesn’t have any piercings, yet.

Magnus is aware of that but it doesn’t stop Magnus from imaging where one would go and how it would look and he realizes it would undoubtedly be made of bone. A shared hunt. Between the two of them they can easily find a rogue nephilim to kill. Proof of strength and adoration, carved from Magnus own hand and magic and drenched in blood he’s shed.

Magnus swallows, hoarse with want at that kind of a claim and his fingers dig deep enough to bruise as Alexander’s face softens with contentment.

AN:

tumblr tried to autocorrect alexander's (the only problem capitalization) to salamanders. SALAMANDERS.

yes. magnus' salamanders.

while i'm sure magnus has definitely bred fire breathing salamanders or tectonic shaking mudskips, not currently in this fic.

anyhoo. uh. yeah. magnus is delighted. thrilled. he gets to pick what he wants and where he wants for alec and alec gets to do the same for him.

alec: so i want to ask a favor

magnus: okay lets hear it

alec: i want to get couples piercings

magnus: how is that a favor? but also i dont care lets go.

Magnus: on one hand i would have done this without the boon and on the other, i really want that boon. so it's mine. and so is alexander.

Alec not really caring just very pleased. He considered it a boon because he knows Magnus is rather particular with his jewelry. he figured the concession was Magnus being comfortable with it being reciprocal. magnus is delighted its reciprocal. he's fucking thrilled and alec's all viciously pleased about his claim on magnus as well and magnus is ready to preen like a well deserved peacock does

because peacocks deserve to preen. lets be real they are beautiful. and so is magnus.

also i relate to alec in a lot of ways but especially in that we are both magnus apologists. he really is magical.

#lumine writes #writing wednesdays #writing wednesday #pray to the hunters #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #malec

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