#they apologized and shit for one message and then continued to send them?????

[mydictionary-yume]

Hey ummm. Why are there death threats with images of Lu killing herself on my strawpage. Not cool.

[thatsdemko]

unknown - m.verstappen

masterlist | pairing: max verstappen x Hamilton!fem!reader. summary: when an unknown number comes across his phone, max can’t help but discover who’s sent him the image he can’t erase from his mind. warnings: 18+ + fingering (f receiving) + mentions of nudity + fluff (at the end). a/n: I want to give a huge shoutout to @monzabee for always being my inspiration to finish my smut, but also for convincing me to read twisted games (this ones inspired by that xx)

unknown

attachment: 1 image

the pinging sound distracts him from the current game on his television. pausing for a quick second, max glances at the unknown number and slides the message open as curiosity struck him.

unknown

can you see my nipples through this?

Max’s phone nearly drops into his lap at the second message. he barely got the chance to even open the image, the second message was far too appalling and his hands got too slippery from the precipitation building around him.

“max! come on!” the chatter from his headset snaps his attention from the black phone screen in his lap. red slips across his cheeks as he apologizes quickly for the distraction, and continues on like nothing happened.

though he couldn’t lie, the curiosity of the image was certainly looming around him. what was the person wearing? could he see said nipples? he couldn’t help but try to sneak peaks at his phone whenever he got the chance before the stream ended.

finally free from his friends, max slides open his phone and his breath sucks inward. you could definitely see your nipples through the sheer linen tight white top. in fact, if it weren’t for your underwear, you could see the very outline of your vagina.

fuck. max was unsure to text back. if he did, what would he even say? there was no clear indication on who it was sending the message. he didn’t recognize the number, and on top of that there was no face. the image was purely just the outfit.

max verstappen

a bra would be appropriate.

your heart fell about five stories down, and right into the pit of your gut. shit, you didn’t send the message to your friends. instead, you mistook the ID you tapped on for one of them, and it turned out to very clearly be your brothers rival: max verstappen.

unknown

don’t mention this to Lewis.

max verstappen

secret is safe with me.

while this made perfectly good blackmail, max had nothing against you. you were completely innocent and most likely too stupid to notice you tapped his phone number instead. he’d never utter a word to Lewis, and the photo would die with max whenever the time may be.

max verstappen

where are you headed looking like that?

y/n Hamilton

your moms house.

max stifled out a chuckle unable to believe that you were born by the same parents as Lewis. when it came to humor, Lewis used it very minimal, but from the select times max had spoken to you, you were the complete opposite. meditation was joke, veganism was impossible to follow, and driving at fast speeds was too boring. y/n hamilton was every opposite of her brother.

max verstappen

I think my house is a better place for that

your heart somehow jumped back into its place, attempting to thump its way out of its cavity. max could easily be joking, he could easily be serious, but either way you shouldn’t go. max was probably not interested in women like you, and sure the photo might’ve tipped the scales in your favor, but you weren’t really into vanilla sex like he could offer.

y/n Hamilton

you wish I was headed to your place like this.

max verstappen

I do.

fuck. you close your eyes, letting your fingers type the message and hit send before you can even have a single regret. max might be your opposite in the bedroom, but you can’t help but wonder what he’s got up his sleeve.

y/n Hamilton

I’m free right now.

—

twenty minutes later his soft lips are leaving trails down your neck, his fingers work the buttons of the top that sickened his soul into this. he was careful not rip the material, but he was so the opposite of careful when his lips wrapped around your nipple.

his tongue and teeth graze the sensitive skin while you melt against his mattress into a puddle.

you were so wrong about him. oh so so, wrong.

he’d practically ripped that white shirt to shreds the second you entered his place. his tongue was a dominate force, shoved down your throat, his lips were passionate and full of eager. vanilla sex was so not max. you could write pages about him, no fantasy or book explored the way max did.

his fingers. oh gosh, they could write stories about how delicate, and soft they were. how they expanded your folds and had you clenching around nothing. they worked wonders— magic perhaps, pumping at such a fast speed you didn’t have time to react feeling him floor you until every drop of you was around him.

“these,” his tongue swipes across your breast, lips wrapping around the tip of your nipple, sucking you like a baby its thumb. it was relaxing, gut twisting, and chilling. he left you panting, begging, and still he wasn’t finished. no ounce of him showed signs of stopping.

when finally he was done toying, done with whatever ‘warmup’ he claimed this to be, his large cock filled you, warmth overtook with pleasure when you felt his hips grind yours. the rhythm was nothing like his fingers, nothing like how his tongue moved on your skin, it was slow. he was slow, like he were to savor every moment of this.

you clench, you squeal, beg, whatever could come from you as noise. nothing was coherent, and max liked that. in fact, it quickened his pace with a smirk as he watched your eyes roll to the back of your head and moan his name.

“you’re taking it well.” his voice is raspy, husk and faint. a moan rippled through your body at the sound of him, you could feel butterflies unleash in the warmth of your stomach as you cry out and come on his cock.

“you’re different than I expected you to be.” you say watching him roll to the pillow beside you, his blue eyes fixed on yours, they still have that hunger in them that turns you on.

“when you wear a top like that,” his breath sucks inward, a simple shake of his head at the newest dirty ideas floating in his mind, “I can’t control myself.”

a breathy chuckle escapes your lips as you curl your body into his, perfectly molding together, “I guess I’m glad I ditched the girls for you.”

a smile stretches across his lips that he carefully plants on your forehead, “thanks for the text, I hope to receive more in the future.”

“you earned yourself a spot on speed dial.”

[ven0moir]

Will had hope ... and then lost it.

He had hope that maybe, just maybe, Mike and he felt the same way. And I think it started here:

Mike expressed relief at the idea of Will not joining another party. And Will's look seems ... surprised but joyful? Like he's picking up on Something the audience is not.

Then we have this:

I know a lot of people say he meant this in a friendship way. But I don't think he did entirely. I think he was 'testing the waters' so to speak, to see Mike's reaction to him asking something like this so forwardly--an action driven in part, possibly, also by frustration. Of course their friendship was his priority but he was also Sending Mike a Message. Speaking in code, if you will. And I'm not sure if Mike picked up on it or not, but he knew what he was doing when he used the word 'us'.

Then of course we have Mike's speech to Will in episode 4. The way he slightly tilts his head to the side inquisitively after Mike said 'It's Hawkins, it's not the same without you', as if he's thinking "am I dreaming? Is he really saying this?" And not to be meta but he might even be wondering if he's being delusional here.

On top of that, the speech prompted him to gather the courage to do this:

hope again. But then his arc culminated in this:

Will's facial expressions when Mike is self-depricating ... he seems so sad. In the second one, even Mike notices and cuts himself off to apologize for bringing up this subject.

I think he, sadly, realized Mike did feel the same way as him, but not in the way he had initially hoped. Mike, like him, is struggling with not feeling good enough for the person he loves.

And Will did not want Mike to feel the same way he did. So he did what we saw him do and give the painting to Mike, which symbolizes his love for DnD, for what they do together, for their friend group, for him. His intention here was to make Mike feel better. Important. Seen. Even at the cost of his own heartbreak.

"Every smile you fake, I'll be watching you."

So to recap, at the beginning of the season, Will had been acting weird and painting for someone he liked ( according to El ). We find out very quickly that the recipient of the painting was intended to be Mike. I don't think Will ever intended for the painting to be a full blown love confession--but a start. A continuation of the 'hint dropping' they started doing at the end of S3. But of course, the whole world went to shit, and his feelings got amplified to the point where the painting's meaning took a different turn. And it became the basis of a veiled love confession.

I think this is devastating because the narrative forced them, once again, down a different path from the natural progression this would've been had Mike been allowed to enjoy a nice spring break in California.

I do believe by the end of S4, Will has completely lost the last vestiges of hope he had left that Mike would ever reciprocate his feelings, especially after Mike's love confession. I think he feels stupid for even allowing himself to believe there was a chance.

I mean, look at him. And, terrifyingly, I feel like that is exactly where Vecna needs him to be at the start of S5.

Sprinkle in some #birthdaygate and voila ... we have the perfect recipe for a horrible Vecna vision.

I don't know how they'll resolve this, but it does feel to me that the intention of Will's S4 arc was to get him to a point of loss of hope, which signifies the death of his dream.

Going into S5, he probably sees this dream now as stupid and childish--an impossibility. Adding to this, there's no way in hell Will is going to confess. Not when this happened and it was never resolved.

The ball is on Mike's court, for better or for worse.

And I think this is also another plot twist we will find out through Vecna: the fact that Will had hope that he and Mike could be together and felt the same way. And that honestly makes whatever Vecna does to Will 10 times worse because if Will had NEVER had hope, then there's nothing new there. But having hope and then having it crushed to the ground? Yeah ... my heart hurts as I type this.

[measuredingold]

caught between black and white

authors note: hello hello hello ! long awaited part two of you right and i know this probably isn’t what you guys were wanting but i wanted noah’s pov to kind of explain why things happened the way they did so… stay with me 👀 part three everything will come together. title from alkaline by sleep token. as always enjoy and feedback is always appreciated :)

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

divider: @saradika-graphics 🖤

cross posted on ao3 / part one

word count: 3.5k

cw/tw: swearing, arguing, Noah Sebastian Is Bad At Feelings lol, 18+ minors do not interact

Noah's not sure how he got here. Well, okay. Backtrack - he knows how he got here with you, and knows why you're looking at him like you want to fucking smack the shit out of him. What he means is here, right now, in this kitchen. He wasn't expecting to see you, especially after not hearing from you in the last three months. He expected you to keep far from him.

You had to have known he was going to be here tonight? This party - get together, whatever - was literally for him and the guys for completing yet another tour. He had a feeling you hated him, and he doesn't blame you. So, why were you here?

He had just turned away from the fridge to get himself another water when he found you standing across from him, face pulled into a scowl and eyes narrowed in a glare. He jumps a little at the sudden sight of you, eyes widening.

He says your name gently, "Hey."

"Shut up, Noah."

Right. Got it. You're pissed at him. He presses his lips together and nods his head, fingers tightening around the bottle of water in his hands. You shift on your feet, pulling your drink close to your chest. From the flush in your cheeks and you fucking speaking to him in the first time in three months, he's going to assume you've already had a few of those.

"I didn't want to come tonight." You pause, as if you're wanting him to respond, but continue before he could even think of speaking, "I didn't want to see you."

“…Okay."

"Do you know why I didn't want to see you?"

He does know. He knows exactly why you don't want to see him, knows why you haven't texted him in almost three months. He expected a long message of you cussing him out at the very least because he knew you'd never call him. Part of him wanted it, pathetically so, because it was a direct line to you. He still had some sort of connection, even if it was you pissed at him.

After a month of no contact Noah found himself in a hotel room late one night, thumb hovering over the send button of his message asking if you could talk. About what, he wasn’t sure. He just wanted to hear from you, maybe even say he was sorry. His stomach drops the second he hits send, the usual blue text bubble turning green.

You had blocked him. Rightfully so - he deserved that.

"I do."

Your gaze is becoming almost too much and he looks anywhere but you, opting to look at the cabinets above your head. They've become very interesting in the last five seconds. A moment of silence passes, thirty seconds, a minute, and then his eyes drop back down to you.

You're still looking at him.

"What?" He doesn't mean for it to come out so harsh but it does, and his arms tighten around his chest when your eyes narrow at him.

"What?" You laugh, but nothing's funny. "That's all you have to say?"

"What do you think I should say?"

He's digging himself a hole and he's doing it on fucking purpose. He wants you to hate him. Needs you to hate him because if you do, walking away tonight won't be as painful. Your gaze hardens, eyes turning cold as you scoff at his words.

"You can't be fucking serious right now."

"I don't know what you want from me."

"You know what I fucking want," You stop to let out a frustrated sigh, eyes shutting to take a deep breath before continuing, "I want an I'm sorry. I want an I didn't mean to hurt you. I want a genuine fucking apology for your shitty ass behavior."

Noah wishes he could say them, wishes he could give you what you want because he so desperately does want to say that and more. But he can't. His mouth won't move. Instead he swallows those words down, blinking at you.

"But you won't. I know you won't." You laugh again, hands flying at your sides. "Because you never do. You never once fucking apologized for using me for your own gain-"

"You used me, too." Oh, so his mouth can move.

Your eyes narrow again. "I was fucking in love with you, Noah. You knew I’d never tell you no.”

Noah blinks. He wasn't expecting that.

Your easy confession has his stomach twisting, heart dropping, and he feels his body heating up. His neck is probably red at this point. You were in love with him? Sure, he expected there were some type of feelings there for him, but love? There's no way he heard that right.

It's always been so hard for him to even admit to anyone how he felt, no matter the circumstances. He never understood how it came so easy for others. Feelings were so complicated, they made things confusing and it always comes with a price. The price being that someone will eventually get hurt, and that someone is usually him. The thought of letting someone in, letting them through the cracks between the walls he built around himself, makes him sick to his fucking stomach.

What good is it to let you in when you'll eventually leave?

No matter what he felt for you, no matter how much he just wanted to fucking say it back, Noah couldn't. He'd never allow himself to say it so freely, so openly, because he knew what would happen. You would leave. You'd realize he was too... difficult. Too much baggage to handle and realize it wasn't worth it, and he'd have to fix those walls you brought down.

He couldn’t let himself be so vulnerable.

This was easier, for both you and him. Keeping you close enough so he can have you like this, in the way he so desperately wanted, but far enough that you didn't have to see the real him.

"You don't love me." The words fall from him easily, head shaking.

"Don't play dumb, Noah." You laugh again, a pitiful fucking sound and he frowns. "You know it’s true. I wouldn't have stayed this fucking long if I hadn't."

"You don't-"

"No." He shuts up immediately at your tone, lips pressing together. You're pointing at him, eyes back in their narrowed glare. "You don't get to tell me how I feel. You actually don't get to fucking speak, okay? You've done enough."

With widen eyes, all Noah can do is nod. He swallows down the lump in his throat as he watches you let out a long, dejected sigh. You pinch the bridge of your nose, eyes fluttering shut briefly.

"I'm done," You start, and Noah does everything in his power to ignore the wobble in your voice, "doing this with you. I can't do it anymore. I'm done letting... letting someone who doesn't give two shits walk all over me. Use me when it's convenient." His gaze drops to the floor when he notices you lift a hand to wipe at your eyes. "You never fucking cared about me."

He so desperately wants to tell you that that wasn't true, that he did. He damn near felt the same about you, but instead of voicing that he kept his mouth shut and didn't speak like you had asked.

"I just feel so fucking stupid because I never really thought there would ever be a chance. I wasn't naïve. But last time, when you said," Another shaky breath comes from you and Noah's chest tightens at the sound, "when you said you fucking missed me. That all I needed was you. It felt... different. I thought that you..."

He winces at the laugh you let out this time, each one sounding more and more heartbreaking than the last. He used to love your laugh, how full of life it had sounded, but right now he fucking hates it.

"Obviously I thought wrong. You left me. Without a fucking goodbye."

Noah doesn't know why he looks up, because the ground beneath his feet is pretty interesting at the moment, but he does. He wishes he hadn't because you're rubbing at your eyes again but failing miserably, a few stray tears falling down your cheeks. He clears his throat before swallowing thickly, blinking away the sudden burning behind his eyes.

"I wanted to stay." He finally says, your eyes landing on him. They narrow again. "I almost did."

"Bullshit. You never stay."

"I know." A pause. "Doesn't mean I don't want to."

Your eyes soften for just a moment and you watch him in silence. Your gaze still burns before his eyes never waver from yours, trying to get across that he meant it. He could say so much more, the words on the tip of his tongue, but he remains silent instead. He still can't say it, so he hopes that's good enough.

"It's really hard to believe that."

Noah doesn't say anything, just nods because he knows it's hard. He fucking does and he wishes he could just say what he so desperately wants to. He mentally smacks himself because why is it so fucking hard? It shouldn't be. It should be easy, telling the person you want that you have feelings for them.

So, why does it feel like the hardest thing he's ever done?

"I know. You have no reason to believe me. I just..." He finally says, words trailing off and throat closing up again.

He can't finish his sentence, stomach twisting so violently he swears he's going to be sick at any given moment. Your eyes never move from him, watching him so intently he's certain you can see through him at this point. You eventually look away, scoffing to yourself.

"Why?"

His brows furrow. "Why what?"

"Why should I believe you?"

He stills. Why should you believe him? He's given you plenty of reasons not to, and given exactly zero on why you should.

"Um." His chest tightens, breathing picking up because he doesn't know what to say. I love you, too. But is that even enough now? "Because..."

His words trail off again and it's now growing harder and harder to even look at you. He looks down again, body heating up because the room is getting hotter - it's literally just him - and suddenly he wishes he could be anywhere else in the world but here.

You laugh again, much weaker. "If you can't even say it, how am I supposed to believe you?"

Noah presses his lips together and gives you a shrug in response, too afraid to even use his voice. The silence that follows has his skin crawling and every time he hears you sniffle across from him, he wishes the floor would just swallow him whole. He's screaming at himself in his head, chanting Tell her! Tell her! but he can't. He won't.

He's already made his decision.

"I meant what I said," your voice startles him, brown eyes looking up at you finally, "when I said I was done. I am. We can't keep doing this. I can't keep letting you hurt me. I deserve better."

His heart breaks at that because he knows you're right. You do deserve better. You've always deserved better than him. He couldn't give you what you wanted, no matter how hard he tried.

"You do."

"I do."

There's a finality in your voice, almost like the final nail in the coffin, and Noah knows this is it. You were actually done. You were walking away just like he expected, just like he wanted. This was for the best. He knew it. You finally knew it, too.

But why does it still hurt all the same?

"Everything good in here?"

Nicholas' voice has both you and Noah looking up in surprise, flushes on both of your cheeks. The older males clear eyes narrow as he looks between the two of you before his eyes remain solely on Noah. He swallows thickly, head nodding.

"Yeah."

"I was just leaving, actually." You manage to get out, clearing your throat to hide the way your voice wavered. Noah didn't miss it, and neither did Nicholas with the way his eyes narrow even further. You turn your focus to his best-friend and bandmate, mustering up the best smile that you could. "It was nice to see you again, Nick."

"You, too."

Noah's gaze meets yours and there's something in them, something he can't quite place. Longing? Regret? He doesn't know because it's gone as soon as it comes.

"Goodbye, Noah."

And then you're gone, not sparing him one more glance as you make your way out of the kitchen. Noah doesn't move, eyes trained to where you once stood. He doesn't even notice when Nicholas slides up next to him, leaning back against the counter just like him.

"What the fuck was that?"

"Nothing."

"Don't piss me off, dude."

"We were just talking." Noah sighs now, casting a glance at his friend. "That's it."

Nicholas pauses for a moment. "She ended it, didn't she?"

Of course he knew. Noah had told his friend the very second he and you started... whatever the fuck this was. He needed someone to know, someone he could trust. He's sure everyone else suspected it, especially when you two would sneak off together and come back maybe an hour later, clothes and hair disheveled from god knows what.

"Yeah." He nods. "She did."

"Sometimes I wish you'd just let yourself have nice things." Nicholas sighs out, tilting his head back.

"It's not that simple-"

"Do you or do you not have feelings for her?" Nicholas cuts him off and holds his gaze for a moment before Noah looks away, clearing his throat. "Yes or no answer, dude.”

"Why does that matter?"

"It always fucking matters."

"Who cares if I do?" He's growing frustrated now, wanting to talk about anything else but this. "It won't change the fact that she'll eventually fucking leave. She already did, man. I just saved her and I from wasting our time."

Nicholas doesn't respond right away and Noah looks back at him. He fucking hates the look his friend is giving him, soft eyes full of fucking pity because he knows. He knows why Noah acts the way that he does, which pisses him off even more.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Noah, I just want what's best for you-"

"What's best for me, Nick?" His anger only rises at this, face set in a scowl as he finally turns his body to face his bandmate. "Since you fucking know everything."

"Don't talk to me like that." Nicholas points an accusing finger towards Noah, face hardening and brows furrowing.

"And don't act like you know what's best for me." Noah snaps, lips dipping into a frown. "You and I both know this is what's best. She's better off, she doesn't need to deal with..." He motions towards himself, shoulders slumping. "...all of this."

Nicholas' face softens and his frown only deepens. "Noah..."

"And do I wish I could just fucking tell her? Sure, but that doesn't stop the voice in my head telling me she'll get up and leave like everyone else because it's too much." He leans back against the counter, arms crossing. The weight on his chest lightens only a bit at his confession, but the heaviness in his stomach remains. "Watching her leave now is easier."

"Is it?"

"Yeah."

Noah's eyes drop to his feet when he hears Nicholas shuffle around, standing in front of him. He feels his friends hand on his shoulder but doesn't bother looking up, his shoes becoming the most interesting thing to him.

"I wish you'd let yourself have nice things." Nicholas says again, fingers squeezing Noah's shoulder before his hand drops. "And I wish you'd stop thinking the absolute worst when it comes to people. How do you know she'll leave?"

"Everyone does."

"I haven't." Nicholas' response is quick. "Jolly hasn't. Neither has Folio."

"Yeah, but that's different-"

"No, it's not." Another sigh and Noah finally looks up at Nicholas, watching as the male pinches the bridge of his nose. "You can't keep living like this. In the what ifs, consumed by what could happen when you have no fucking clue if it actually will."

"But it will-"

Nicholas stops him again, holding a hand up. Noah's mouth shuts. "You don't know that. Just..." He sighs, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. "I know it's happened before and it's fucking terrifying, I know, but dude... there's no way that you know she'll leave."

"She just did."

"Because you made her."

Nicholas is staring at him again and Noah feels small under his gaze, which is crazy because he's a few inches taller than him. He knows he's not wrong, he did make her leave, but it was only to protect her and himself from the inevitable.

Right?

"I just want you to be happy. That's all I want." Noah watches Nicholas' gaze soften, a sad smile settling on his lips. "I think she could be the one to do that.

Noha's chest aches at his friend's words, sadness settling in his bones and suddenly he feels... He feels that Nicholas might be right. The feeling is brief though before he's shaking his head, arms crossing back over his chest as he finally pivots his gaze away from Nicholas.

"Well, it's too late for that."

There's a brief moment of silence before Nicholas says, "It doesn't have to be."

"Nick," He sighs, eyes fluttering shut. "It is too late. She's gone. Even if I wanted to fucking, I don't know, chase after her and tell her I'm sorry it won't change anything. She told me she was done."

"Well-"

"Can we just not talk about this anymore? It's done. It's over with. There's nothing else for me to do." Noah's eyes find his best friend again, pushing himself off the counter. "And I'm honestly ready to go. I'm fucking tired. I miss my bed."

He tries his best to ignore the lingering sadness swirling around his chest, shoving it so far back as he reaches for his forgotten water bottle. Nicholas continues to stay where he is, watching Noah with a sort of look he's never seen before. His own eyes narrow at his friend and there's maybe a thirty second stare-off before Nicholas' shoulders sag, a sigh leaving his lips.

"Whatever, man."

A small weight feels like it's been lifted from Noah's shoulder and he gives Nicholas a nod, thankful that he's finally dropped it. Nothing else could be done, Noah knows this. There's no point in dwelling on the what ifs, what's done is done. You're gone and you're far better off, he thinks, even if the thought does make his stomach twist painfully.

That pain will go away soon enough. It always does. He'll go back to his normal self, no more thoughts of you lingering in the back of his mind. He'll be fine. He always is.

Nicholas bids Noah a goodnight, watching as his friend trudges his way up the stairs. He waits until he hears his bedroom door shut before he's fishing out his phone, scrolling through his contact list before he finally comes across your name.

Is he meddling in someone else's business? Sure, but he feels like he needs to do this because he knows you and Noah won't, both way too stubborn for your own good. He has no idea if you'll reply anyways, but it's worth a shot.

Hey! It was really nice seeing you tonight.

He lets out the breath he had been holding when he presses send, watching as the message goes through. Below the blue text box shows that the message had been delivered, and he's glad to know that the only number you seemed to block was Noah's. He sits for a minute, then two, and after five he starts to think you won't answer until he hears a ding come from his phone.

Hi! You too. Sorry I dipped so quick. I had to get home.

He knows why you did, but doesn't bother mentioning it.

It's all good!

I was wondering if you'd like to meet up tomorrow, grab lunch? That little place on 5th that you like. My treat. Been a second since we've seen each other and we need to catch up. Got some crazy stories to tell you.

I think I'm free after 2 tomorrow if that's alright?

Perfectly fine with me, I don't have any plans lol I'll pick you up?

Do you mind if I just meet you there? I won't be home but I'll be nearby there.

Sounds good to me :)

Great! See you tomorrow.

Nicholas reacts to your message with a thumbs up and leaves it at that and he feels the tension in his shoulders finally relax.

He really fucking hopes this works.

[ilium-ilia]

I don’t know man, I figured I would ask you personally about this because I’ve gotten two asks now that were quite rude about it, saying I shouldn’t “copy” fics or steal your prompts. But I made a post saying that I had a horrible dark fic idea inspired by your “hole in the earth” fic. I didn’t go into much detail about it in the post but in the tags all I said was that I was thinking about a sort of aftermath situation of it, if John died and the Reader character went insane, trigger warning for child death in the idea I was having. Basically in no way actually copying your fic, just inspired by your work. The lobotomy, if I were to even actually write it, probably wouldn’t even be mentioned and more focus on Stockholme syndrome and kidnapping. Sorry this is long but I’m just kinda annoyed by the anons I’m getting, does this bother you? Seem too close to your work for comfort? Would you call it “copying”? - @cobwebs-in-autumn

Okay, well I didn't want to make this public, and you blocked me, and I'm tired of people walking all over me when it comes to stealing my work, I'm going to explain the situation here and set boundaries right now. Again. Because I'm so sick and fucking tired of dealing with this.

First off, I would like to say don't harass this person. Don't send anon messages, or hate, or comment on their posts, or anything. I'm only bringing this out because you guys need to learn to respect writers. I've deleted two accounts because of shit like this and I'm NOT letting it get to me a third time.

Anyway, so I get sent this anon message. The fic they're referring to is one that isn't posted on tumblr, but is here on AO3. It's a very dark fic, basically where Price kidnaps a wife, and when she doesn't act the way he wants her to, he has her lobotomized so that she's more "docile." It's a horror fic. This person then decided that they wanted to write a continuation of the fic, therefore stealing my idea without my permission. (no matter how much they want to claim they were only inspired, a continuation without permission is still stealing!!)

Now, many of you had kindly pointed out to this person that the idea was very similar to mine. And they very much admitted in this anon ask that it was an aftermath situation of MY fic. But this seemed to annoy them.

"I’m just kinda annoyed by the anons I’m getting"

(you know what else is annoying? people copying or "finishing" your works without permission!!)

So, I then went to this person in dm's to tell them, yeah no, I'm not cool with this at all.

because frankly, why the fuck would i be cool with that lmao. I was pretty short with my messages, but I was being firm. Like I've done this shit before, I'm not doing it again.

They do not respond to the message, and instead, ignore me and reblog their post with this.

Which is fucking amazing actually. So insanely disrespectful that I couldn't help but laugh because how do you see someone saying "Hey, this makes me uncomfortable and you're stealing my idea" and you go and post that? "I feel this is far enough" But you're not going to talk it out to the writer you claim to respect so much?

Anyway so I point this out in the dms because that's just insanely disrespectful.

And I also commented because I was getting anxious that people were going to start pushing them to write the idea that was pretty much mine lmao.

Eventually they responded with this:

Which is also just fucking insane. Basically gaslighting me saying "oh I'll just write something similar but not" (Not to mention the fact their new idea sounds like early's fic anyway lol) But no apology, just fucking clout chasing using my name and idea, for whatever reason. So I sent them a rather rambling response about how that this still isn't okay, I still never received an apology from them, or anything of the like.

And I'm sure you guys saw some of my posts because I was upset. (the misgendering and the incorrectly correcting my name, and saying how i'm not at all okay with people using my works as inspiration). This has happened to me so so so often (and many other writers!) and I'm sick of it. It's annoying. This person has written so many other works and ideas that were their own and that's what I love about fandom- but this? Yeah.

So I waited for a response from them. Clicked on our messages and oh?

Everything's gone. weird. maybe send another message.

oh!

maybe it's tumblr. logged out. logged back in. no history with them in my dm's period. (mind, I can still message everyone else just fine!)

So yeah. This is bullshit, and I'm sick of it. Private conversations do not help. I'm tired of trying to protect people who are wronging me for the sake of their feelings when they so obviously trample and disregard mine. Especially with these answers to your asks here:

This is so frustrating.

Writing continuations of someone's work is never okay. Writing ideas based off of their work without asking them is never okay. And to block me when I point out my discomfort just because you're (assumingely) upset i didn't take your side? And STILL keeping the post up? (at least at the time I'm posting this) Yeah, sorry, I'm tired of letting this shit slide and keeping this quiet. I tried to reach out in DM's to resolve it quietly and that didn't work.

Respect your writers. This is a community. Ask people. If you like my idea so much, then maybe comment or tell me in my asks instead of ripping me off. I'm literally always so happy to talk about my ideas and "what if's" and I'm sure many other writers are too! We literally scream it from the rooftops!

But no, you'd rather steal my shit for clout instead.

again: do not fucking dogpile on this person. just block and move on. unfortunately this isn't their main account, so they're gonna be able to see my shit no matter what I do, but oh well. maybe at least we can all learn that this is not cool at all.

anons are off for now, and any stupid asks will just be blocked/deleted.

[inholover4l]

thanos x f/reader drabble!

warnings: mentions of sex and drugs.

a/n: this was fun to write! hope you enjoy. pls leave any constructive criticism if you have any.

back to the basics ༉‧₊˚.

thanos’s new song had made him pretty well known now. he was invited to nightclubs and events and you had been very proud of him. he was a very smug guy in general, but with this new level of fame? it was insane. 

his ego was through the roof, and he expected you to simply deal with it. you weren’t an idiot, but you’d taken it the first few months, expecting it to fade over time. but as he started making plans for an album, you knew it was only going to get worse. 

so you’d snapped and tried to talk to him about it. the only problem being was you could rarely have conversations alone anymore. he always had his little entourage around or namgyu at the very least. he was busier than ever and you were feeling neglected, so after a long argument you’d both broken it off.

it was week one without him. to be honest, you missed him. he’d been pretty stupid ever since he got famous. he’d texted you a few times admitting it himself. he even begged at one point, sending you a shit ton of voice messages at 2 in the morning. 

“please baby, i’ll change.”

“i can’t go on without you, my angel.”

“i’ll give you anything you want, come back to me or i’ll fight the world for you.” 

of course, they weren’t complete with a little rapping. 

you’d been tempted many times, but your friends had all convinced you not to, whether by means of coming over and distracting you or simply telling you outright that he wouldn’t be treating you like this if he really wanted you.

everybody was saying that he was no good for you, talking about how much better you deserved. but you didn’t want better, you wanted him. 

so when you saw him on your doorstep with a big bouquet of roses that next evening, you didn’t turn him away immediately. 

“you look like shit,” you snorted at the sight of him, dark circles under his eyes. he shrugged his shoulders.

“i can’t sleep without you by my side, baby. you know that.” he propped the flowers up, holding them out to you.

you glanced down at the card attached. you scoffed at the sight of his credit card jammed inside the envelope.

“you’re buying my forgiveness?” 

“no. the card’s just an added bonus to the amazing apology i have planned out.” he started. “let me in?” he suggested, running his hand through his hair. 

you hesitated for a moment, “why should i? why can’t you apologise outside?” you continued.

“don’t make me grovel out here, baby.” he groaned. you smiled slightly. 

“i’m not letting you in.” you said firmly. “apologise outside or stop wasting my time.” you started to close the door, satisfied when you saw his shoe prop it open.

he glanced around furtively before ducking his head. 

“i’m sorry, baby.” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

you nearly slapped him. 

“is that it?” you said, eyes wide.

“relax! i’m not done.” he huffed. “i know i was an ass, baby, but i was just stressed. you know better than anyone how hard i worked for this. i was just getting used to it, alright? i didn’t know how to manage my time. but i’ve changed. trust me.” 

“why should i trust your word?” you scoffed.

he pulled his phone out, “i swear, baby, i haven’t been to an event since you broke up with me. i haven’t even spoken to anyone. i’ve just been dreaming about you. look, baby, i’ll ask namsu. alright?” 

before you could protest, he phoned namgyu, pressing on the speaker, nodding his head lightly in time to the ringtone.

“namsu, when was the last time you saw me?” he said, sounding slightly forced. you could tell this was rehearsed, but for some reason it made you crack a little. he had put in effort, at least.

“like last week, man.” namgyu answered, “you haven’t even been out to the club or anything.” he droned on.

“you shouldn’t have left her, bro” he said, although this sounded as though he had a gun to his head. 

you couldn’t help but smirk at how bored he sounded. 

“i know. i’m with her right now. i’ve changed, haven’t i, namsu?” thanos pressed.

“yeah man, listen, he’s definitely changed, i swear.” namgyu continued, his voice blaring through the phone. “come on, the old thanos would never have stayed in from those events. he really loves you.” namgyu huffed. 

“you almost sound jealous, namgyu.” you piped up, to which namgyu scoffed, about to retort before thanos hung up carelessly, shoving his phone into his pocket.

“i’m a changed man, baby.” he announced, focusing on your expression. “you’re still not convinced?” he said, sounding defeated.

“maybe 90% convinced.” you muttered, feeling yourself start to heat up from the embarrassment. 

“what can i do to get you to 100, baby? tell me. i’ll do anything.” he said, getting to his knees then and there, hands pressed together. 

you couldn’t help but enjoy the sight of him grovelling right there on your doormat. you decided to be a little selfish because, well, you deserved it. plus, the sight of him on his knees for you was doing something to you. 

“maybe i’ll forgive you…” you started slowly, “if you can get me off,” 

he grinned up at you, 

“oh baby, that’s my specialty. let me in, and relax, let thanos the great take care of you. alright?” 

you knew your next move would have consequences but frankly, you stopped caring a while ago. 

you held the door open,

 “alright.”

[tgmsunmontue]

You put a ring on a wild thing - 4/? WIP Hangster

Affectionately titled "Drunk Vegas" fic until I gave it the title above. Likely going to be around 4-5 parts (I say optimistically).

Explicit Hangster. Drinking and dubious decisions and complete disregard for actual facts.

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE

PART FOUR

                Jake wakes up the next morning early, alarm persistent and he groans, turns off the alarm and throws his phone down on the floor; head thumping into the bed as he pulls the pillow over his face. Fuck. He’d been trying to stay awake last night so that he could talk to Bradley. Bradley. He scrambles to find his phone, thumbs it on, opening up his messages with Bradley. Scrolls through the messages they’d exchanged yesterday with fondness.

>>Just out to dinner with the family. Call you later?

>>Damn.

>>I’m going out to dinner with a friend tonight, might be late before I get back to my room what with the time difference.

>>Happy to call if you’re still awake though.

>>Lunch and dinner with friends. Popular man. Later’s good.

>>You awake?

>>Jake?

>>Sweet dreams. Try again tomorrow I guess. 😘

                Jake groans. There’s fifteens and twenty minutes between the messages, Bradley obviously waiting to see if Jake was simply busy or if he’d fallen asleep. Because it’s now tomorrow and he has to go and report to his new posting. He can also stop by the admin building and lodge his new marriage papers. Holy shit. He’s probably going to have so much paperwork. Maybe he should delay it a couple of months?

                No.

                Fuck it.

                He snaps a quick selfie, and he’s sleep-mussed and a bit blurry eyed but he’s pretty sure Bradley has seen him looking worse.

>>Morning. Sorry about falling asleep. Apology photo. I’ll send you another one later when I’m not half asleep.

                Sending a picture of him in full uniform would probably answer a few questions, but he’d like to tell Bradley he’s in the service rather than surprise him with it… although maybe he already knows? Something is niggling in his mind and he tries to grab it but it continues to elude him. Ah well, soon enough he’ll be able to tell Bradley himself.

>>You look good.

>>What are you doing awake?

>>6am flight remember?

>>Damn. I forgot.

>>Just queuing up to board now.

>>On time.

>>Miracles do happen.

>>Where are you headed?

>>Cali.

>>But I could be persuaded to call Texas home with the right incentive.

                Jake blinks at that. Not sure how to take it, whether it’s a joke or whether Bradley would seriously consider uprooting his entire life because Jake calls Texas home. He doesn’t need to wait long though before another message is coming through and it’s quickly becoming apparent that Bradley sends messages freely, easily and openly and he likes it.

>>I mean it’s where my husband is from.

>>Can I call you?

>>Sure.

>>Just about to enter the plane.

>>Give me a couple of minutes. I’ll call you.

>>Of course. I’m not going anywhere.

                He settles back, lets himself relax and wonders realistically how much time they’ll have to talk. At dinner last night Hannah had kept making him sly digs about needing to make a call, and his parents had known was something was up, but he’d managed to deflect all their questions onto other matters. They had taken him coming out with very little surprise and he wonders how long they’ve suspected. He did mention that there was maybe someone, but he’d wait a couple of months before introducing them. Hannah had been fucking useless, more hindrance than help and he wonders what she’s currently trying to hide from their parents. Then his phone is vibrating in his hand and he can’t helping grinning at the picture of Bradley that appears and he answers it, lets himself lie back down on his bed.

                “Hi…”

                “Hi, how are you?”

                “Hi. I’m good. You sound far more awake than me and it’s earlier for you.”

                “I’m used to early mornings. Don’t mind them in fact.”

                “That right?” Jake asks with a smile, thinks about yesterday morning and the pillow he’d pulled over his head. Maybe the alcohol and hangover were to blame for that then, and he adds it to his small pile of information about Bradley. “Didn’t seem that way yesterday…”

                “Holy shit. Feels like it was longer than yesterday.”

                “Happy two-day anniversary…”

                Bradley’s laugh makes him feel warm and he realizes he’s smiling at an empty room.

                “Happy anniversary to you too… How was dinner with your family? Who was there?”

                “Uh. My parents. My two sisters, Caroline and Hannah. Older and younger. Uh… Caroline’s husband and their baby. My nephew. I have a brother as well. My twin actually. He’s currently out of state studying, travels a lot… he does some pretty crazy shit.”

                “Yeah? What, oh… sorry. Just let me…” Bradley’s voice goes muffled then and he’s obviously got people moving around him, isn’t talking to Jake right now. “Sorry Jake. You still there?”

                “Course darlin’, I’m not the one on a plane…”

                “Yeah. I’ve only got a couple of minutes before they’ll make us turn our phones off for takeoff. I’m already getting some dirty looks. I’ll be able to talk tonight. Eighteen hundred work for you?”

                “I’ll make it work,” Jake promises.

                “Talk to you later.”

                “Later.”

…            …            …

                He showers and dresses in his uniform, packs his bag. Hannah is driving him to Corpus Christi. It’s not a long trip, close enough to come back visit for weekends, but not so close that necessitates the need to stay on base.

                “Talk to your hubby today?”

                “Yep. I have actually.”

                “And how is he?”

                “Good.”

                “Good? And? Fucks sake Jake, this is like getting blood out of a stone.”

                “And what?”

                “Did you find out where he’s from? What he does? Anything?”

                “He… was getting on a plane to California. So. Maybe California?” Jake provides, but his brain is catching on the memory of Bradley saying he’d move to Texas and that had thrilled him, until the harsh reality that he doesn’t fucking live in Texas most of the time. He lives wherever the US Navy sends him, regardless of where he might call home.

                “Can I have his number?”

                “No!”

                “Ugh. Spoilsport. Bet I’d get more information out of him.”

                “Yeah, probably,” Jake agrees, because he doubts Hannah would get sidetracked about remembering the way Bradley looks when he smiles. “Anyway, what were you hiding last night? You got a new boyfriend or something?”

                “What? What makes you think that?”

                “Because you controlled the conversation at dinner last night like a fucking militant conductor. Don’t think I didn’t notice. Caroline would have noticed it if she wasn’t trying to entertain Brody. And that distracted mom enough. So. What’s up?”

                That’s all it takes, and he settles back to listen to her current love life woes and he gets to relax for the rest of the drive, because clearly she needs to offload about how stupid the current guy she’s interested in is, and Jake makes interested noises, wonders if he’ll ever meet this one. She might give him shit, but she guards her own private life just as closely as he does. He wonders if it’s because it means it doesn’t make him stick out so much when he isn’t the only one not over sharing.

                Regardless, that part of him is no longer a secret, his parents and older sister know now and it went just as well as he expected. Then he’s passing over his military ID so Hannah can enter the base and drop him off. He goes through the usual routine, hugs Hannah goodbye and then reports in. Drops his bag at his bare bones base accommodation, home for the next five months. He has the paper work he has to take to the admin building, but first he has a really important phone call to make. He doesn’t message first, either he’ll answer or he won’t.

                “Is now a good time?”

                “Any time is a good time for you.”

                “Tyler.”

                “Jake.”

                There’s nothing for it. Tyler didn’t need to be at dinner last night because he already knows everything there is about him.

                “I came out to mom and dad last night. And Caroline and her husband obviously.”

                “You finally coming out to me?”

                “Fuck off…” Jake mutters, because he hasn’t ever technically told Tyler, but he’s pretty sure his twin figured it out when he walked in on him and Jonny making out back in high school. He’d been terrified at the time that it would drive a wedge between them somehow. He needn’t have worried. Tyler had just grinned, given him a fist bump and told him that he was glad he finally didn’t have to share or compete for the ladies with him.

                “Well. I love you. You know that.”

                “Yeah. I know. I just… uh. I have to tell you something.”

                “Okay. Hit me.”

                “I got married.”

                “What?” Tyler asks, voice suddenly cold and Jake realizes he’s fucked up. Hadn’t even realized until just now. Shit.

                “Uh… it wasn’t exactly planned.”

                “Yeah. No shit. You said I’d get to be your best man!”

                “I was drunk Tyler…”

                “Fucking hell Jake… So drunk you forgot I was meant to be there?”

                “I know, I know… it’s just, uh… Vegas you know? Plus he’s…”

                “No. I don’t know. Because I’ve never been to Vegas. Fuck. What did mom and dad say about it?”

                “Uh. Didn’t mention the whole marriage part.”

                That has Tyler laughing then and it makes something inside him relax.

                “Oh my god… you have come out to me. You just came out to me as married. Thanks for making me feel included. Wait. Are you staying married?”

                “Uh yeah. We are. For now… going to get to know each other. Actually give it a go.”

                “Oh shit… Cool. What’s his name?”

                “Bradley,” Jake offers, decides he’ll keep Bradley’s last name to himself for now. Doesn’t need Tyler mocking him for something else right now.

                “Oh my god… the way you just said that name. You big fucking sap.”

                “Yeah,” Jake agrees, because if Hannah can get the truth out of him with two questions, Tyler doesn’t need to ask at all. Just knows.

                “You got a photo? You’re going to have to have a party or something if it all works out. I want to do an embarrassing best man speech…”

                “Sure sure. Whatever. I’ll send you a photo. I’ve got to go and talk with the admin office. Figure out how to lodge these papers…”

                “Dude… you… are you lodging your marriage papers? Like… without telling mom and ad you’re married?”

                “Yeah?”

                “Nice… I look forward to having son of the year award when they find that out. Only you man… holy shit. So. What does he do?”

                Jake groans. Tyler and Hannah can form a fucking club.

                “I don’t fucking know okay? Hannah asked the same thing, and I haven’t managed to talk to him long enough to have a proper conversation without me having to leave to get on a plane, or him being on a plane. We’re talking tonight. He doesn’t know what I do either.”

                “Better hope he’s not anti-military or something, because pretty sure that’s ground for a divorce or something right there…” Tyler cackles.

                “Fuck off,” Jake mutters, but he’s grinning, talking to Tyler always makes him feel like he can take on anything with his brother beside him, even when they disagree he knows Tyler will support him. He does hope Bradley isn’t anti-military. That would be kind of awkward, but he feels like that isn’t the case. That there’s something, just on the edge of his hazy memories of not quite two days ago now. “Pretty sure he’s not anti-military.”

                “Well. You let me know when you find out. Everything else good with the family?”

                “Yeah. Hunter was eating solid food at dinner last night. Think the floor ate more of it than he did.”

                “Can’t believe Caroline is a mom.”

                They talk for a little bit, he asks about his studies and recent chases and wonders what the hell their mom was doing when she was pregnant with them to have two boys obsessed with the sky the ways that they are. He loves the fact that Tyler gets him though, and that he understand Tyler’s obsession in turn.

                “Right. I’ll let you go submit your marriage license. Holy shit. My brother is married.”

                “Yeah yeah… let’s hope I stay that way.”

                “Yeah. Of course. Love you bro.”

                “Love you too…”

                He gets off the phone with a grin, and he’s already outside the admin building and he steps inside, eyes taking a while to adjust to the sudden dimness of the building after the bright sunshine outside.

                “Good afternoon…”

                “Good afternoon Lieutenant. How can I help?”

                “I have a couple of questions I was hoping you could help me with…” Jake starts, and his mind is racing. He doesn’t want to admit he got drunk-married. That is all sorts of mortifying in the face of the stern-faced woman looking at him from across the counter.

                “I was in Vegas with my, uh, boyfriend… and we kind of did something a little… spontaneous and… rash.”

                “Okay. And what is it exactly you need my help with?”

                “Uh. Yeah. Sorry. Just. I got married. We got married. And I was just wondering if I should worry about lodging the papers and doing the paperwork… how much work is that to do exactly?”

                “Do you have all the papers with you?”

                “Yes.”

                She holds out a beckoning hand and Jake startles a little, hands over the folded pieces of paper and watches as she unfolds them and scans her eyes down the page.

                “Oh. Oh really? Bradley Bradshaw. That has to be Lieutenant Bradshaw. That’s sweet. Congratulations to you both…”

                “Uh. Yes. That’s right…” Jake says, mind racing. Bradley’s Navy as well. And has likely been posted in Corpus before, because Janice’s mind is a steel trap for names and dates and Jake knows she wouldn’t make a slip up. He sure as hell isn’t going to mention the fact that he doesn’t know his husband’s job. Fuck. What are the chances. At least a plausible way of meeting rather than getting drunkenly married in Vegas, that might be a bullet he gets to dodge if he ever gets to introduce his parents to Bradley. He feels a little hysterical bubble of laughter and he lets it out, pretty sure it’s going to sound joyful rather than completely unhinged.

                “You know, there’s so many more of you coming in and updating your contact details now with the names of your partners. It’s really good to see. Love is love!”

                “Uh huh…” Jake says, feeling slightly manic. Oh… some vague memory is coming back about them maybe both celebrating the fact that DADT had been repealed. Shit. Maybe Bradley already knows what Jake does? Assumed Jake knew and remembered as well? Grand gesture. Fucking hell. That was it. They’d talked about making a grand gesture.

                When he’d talked to Bradley earlier he’d said they’d talk at eighteen hundred and Jake had just agreed, but that’s… that’s not how most people use time. Okay. At least Bradley won’t be antimilitary at least. He really needs, now, wants to talk to him though. If he was going to California he could have been reporting in to North Island. He could be getting ready to be shipped out. That’s… it fills him with a sense of giddy relief, that he’s not married to someone who has zero understanding of what his life is like. That he’s somehow ended up married to a gorgeous man who just so happens to serve in the same branch of the defense force as him.

                What are the fucking chances.

PART FIVE

[writeoffside]

DOCUMENTS AND DESTINIES, part four

♯ battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader - 4/?

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE

summary: Continuation of Documents and Destinies — Your job is gone. Or is it? Bruce Wayne has another trick up his sleeve, which leads you two to meet once again. Late night meeting ends with another fight in the dark underground of Gotham City.

warnings: violence, swearing

info: english isn't my first language, i apologize in advance for all the mistakes (if there are any!)

a/n: a quick pause. i know it's been few months but here is another chapterrrr!!!! so sorrry for keeping u waiting lol enjOYYYY :DD

Weekends are the relaxing days of the week. Or that's what most of people say.

So, why were you perched on top of your kitchen counter, staring blankly at the paper full of words at seven o'clock in the morning? In front of you, on the dining table, were sprawled multiple folders, papers and other items. One of your knees is bend and your chin is put on top of it. The other one is hanging off the counter. Your eyes are hooded with dark colored circles underneath them. Tired from the previous night, which has ended pretty early for you. Considering your friends have left the lounge at nearly three in the morning, you're pretty much questioning if they're even awake at this hour.

The weather outside has changed much since yesterday. The soft breeze has turned into full day rain, with temperature going down. The singular coat turned into multiple layers and the heels into boots. Gotham's weather is definitely something else. Nothing predictable.

The fruit tea —which you have no idea you had in your kitchen cabinet— is sitting next to you with its steam going up, warming the space around you. The smell is probably the nicest thing amongst the dark space around you.

The words on the paper are blurry and you are no longer understanding the sentences written there. Your mind is stuck somewhere else. Far away.

The quietness of the apartment is interrupted with a sudden ringing of your phone.

Your head shots up as the sound rings out. You look around to spot the ringing phone, which is nowhere nearby. You jump off the counter and walk towards your bedroom, where it most likely is on top of your nightstand, still charging it's battery from the previous night. It's most likely been on hundred percent for past few hours but that doesn't matter to you. The phone itself is not something expensive, or rather modern. It's living on its last few years. Who knows if months or weeks. The screen is cracked, the storage is full. You don't even know what is keeping up the storage full. The camera quality is nothing good.

But it's yours. And it's usable.

The ringing stops as you enter the bedroom and a ping! sound comes through, meaning they now have send you a message. Another ping! sound comes through as you near the phone.

You finally get to the phone and plug it off the charger to pick it up.

'one missed call from ANGIE'

You read the missed call notification on your screen. Then swipe up to see the other two messages which were left.

'ANGIE - pls come to the coffee shop at 5th avenue !!!!! the one where they serve grass tasting matcha'

'ANGIE - ASAP !!!! idc if you're sleeping'

"Do you realize that it's not even eight yet?" You mutter as you slide into the booth in the coffee shop your friend called you to meet at.

"And do you realize that you no longer need to work?" He grins at you as you sit down opposite him. His hair is sticking to sides, his glasses perched on top of his nose.

That sentence sparks an interest and your eyes meets his blue ones.

"What?" You laugh out as you reach for the tea and croissant, that he's ordered for you before you arrived.

"Well, your prince charming, the one who's 'just a client', has bought our work building... And the whole company," he grins widens, his glasses sliding even lower on his nose.

"Bruce Wayne has bought our shit-ass company?" Your jaw drops as you process his words, "am I now fucking jobless?"

"Well, kind of? You don't have the job, but the man has given every single one of us double of our salary." He shrugs and takes his tea, and sips it.

Your hands come down against the table, your jaw dropping and eyes widening, "are you fucking joking?"

Few people from the nearby tables turn to you with nasty look on their faces, some of them shushing you. Angie looks at them at mouths them a little 'sorry!'

"What... What am I supposed to do now? Just sit at home and… watch some shitty show with my doubled salary in my bank account?" You whisper-shout at the man in front of you.

Angie smirks, clearly enjoying your spiraling reaction. “Well, you could always be watching that TV show with no money, but now you got twice your paycheck," he leans back into the booth chair, "But no, seriously, we all got personal emails this morning. Some of us are being reassigned. Others are being let go. And then there’s you, princess."

"What's up with me?" You roll your eyes.

Angie leans forward, lowering his voice. “You’ve been specifically asked to attend a meeting. With him.”

Your jaw drops at that.

Angie chuckles, "Doesn't it seem like maybe your little client has been paying more attention to you than you realized?”

You groan, covering your face with your hands.

"Yeah, because that’s exactly what I need in my life. A brooding, mysterious billionaire with a secret agenda. Sounds super cool.” You groan once again, staring at the friend. He's grinning, twirling the little cup of tea in his hand.

Before Angie can respond with another sneaky remark, your phone vibrates on the table. Both of you glance at the screen.

'Wayne Enterprises. Meeting Confirmation: 4 PM. Wayne Tower.'

You stop breathing and your heart skips a beat. It's all coming crashing onto you.

You lift your head back up and glance at the friend in front of you, who's now grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

"Don't even—"

"Oh, girl!" He giggles like a stupid school girl.

You stand in your bedroom, staring at your wardrobe as the gravity of the situation sinks in. Meeting Bruce Wayne wasn’t something you had mentally prepared for when you rolled out of bed this morning.

"This is fucking ridiculous,” you mutter, flipping through hangers of blouses, blazers, skirts and different types of clothing you have there. You can't seem to pick one out.

You groan and pull out the sleek white button-down shirt. Then you bend down to pick out the trousers. Jeans are rather long and the ends of it are tearing, as you've stepped on it multiple times than you can count. You rather pick a high-waisted black trousers. Basic ones. But good ones. Few of accessories to add and the coat with boots, as the Gotham's weather is never predictable.

While you dress up, you're thinking of the times you've met Bruce. Twice. Once when he asked for the archive keys, the time when he drove you home, and when he returned them.

"Okay, alright," you give yourself a once-over in the mirror. Looking at yourself from all sides.

You quickly grab your bag and slide in a few essentials, which will be most likely needed in the meeting. Grabbing your coat and slipping on your boots, you're walking out of the apartment and going down the building.

You tightened your grip on your bag and step out of your apartment building, bracing yourself against the gust of wind that whipped through. The rain fell in a steady, relentless rhythm, bouncing off the concrete. You sigh and pop open your umbrella, its frame creaking against the force of the wind. Making your way to the subway station, a few blocks away, to get to the Wayne Tower.

By the time you reached the subway entrance, your boots were damp. You descended the stairs, the sounds of the city fading into the muffled roar of the subway below the city.

A distant rumble signaled the arrival of the train. You adjusted your bag on your shoulder, watching as the train emerged from the dark tunnel in a blur of graffiti-streaked silver. The brakes screeched, and the doors hissed open.

The time went by quickly. You had a seat thankfully, so you didn't have to stand the whole ride.

The train slowed again, the automated voice announcing your stop. You straightened up, gripping the pole until the train came to a complete halt. The doors slid open, you jumped through the mass of people and went up the stairs, out of the subway station.

You adjusted your umbrella, taking a steadying breath as Wayne Tower came into view, its gleaming facade towering above the rest of the city like a fortress.

Each step toward the building felt heavier than the last.

"That's... it," you whispered to yourself as you eyes the towering building in front of you.

You walked up the stairs to the entrance door and the warmth of Wayne Tower’s lobby enveloped you immediately. A stark contrast to the damp chill outside

You push the silver button to ring the doorbell to be let inside.

The speaker crackled, then buzzed, before a voice broke through. An older voice.

"Hello. May I help you?" The older voice with an english accent spoke through.

"I—I’m heading to Wayne Tower for a meeting. To meet Mr. Wayne," you say to the man.

A brief pause comes. Then the voice is back, "Of course. We've been expecting you."

The ringbell buzzes and the doors in front of you automatically open, letting you in. You push through, murmuring a quiet “thank you” into the intercom.

The warmth of Wayne Tower’s lobby enveloped you immediately, a stark contrast to the damp chill outside. The scent of polished marble and subtle, expensive air freshener filled your senses, and for a moment, you simply stood there, taking it all in. It all felt so much different.

You shaked off your umbrella on a mat near the entrance, folded it, and tucked it under your arm.

"Good afternoon, miss," a voice comes from in front of you. You lift your head and you're met with much older man, his silver hair neatly combed.

He spoke your name, "I presume?” he asked, his British accent precise and dignified.

You nod with a small smile, "Yes, that’s me.”

He inclined his head in greeting, a small smile softening on his older face, "my name is Alfred Pennyworth. I’m Mr. Wayne’s butler. I'll personally escort you to his office, miss.”

"Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth,” you said as you walk towards him to stand by his side.

"Alfred, if you please,” he corrected kindly, gesturing toward the elevator. “Shall we?

You followed him toward the waiting elevator, its doors gleaming like polished chrome. He stepped inside first, holding a hand at the door as you entered. With a smooth motion, he pressed the button for a certain floor. Then the elevator began to ascend up.

"I hope the weather hasn’t made your journey too unpleasant?” He spoke, trying to make a small talk.

You let out a soft laugh at that, "It’s Gotham—it wouldn’t feel right if it wasn't raining, sir."

"Indeed," Alfred’s lips twitched into a little smile.

When the elevator finally came to a smooth stop, Alfred gestured for you to step out first. You thanked him and walked out, looking up at the marvelous hallways that you stood in.

You walked along the long hallways with Alfred by your side. As he reached certain doors, he paused and turned back to you, "this is it, miss."

"Thank you, Alfred,” you said, your voice quieter now.

He gave you a small nod and took his own steps to leave you alone to face this. You sigh as the man walks away and you look up at the dark wooden doors.

You raise your hand and knock. In a moment, a quiet 'come in!' comes through and you push the door open.

The office was massive yet somehow intimate. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the rain soaked skyline as the rain drops onto the window. The city sprawled out below like a sea. Bruce Wayne stood near the windows, his silhouette sharp against the gray rainy light outside.

At the sound of the doors opening, he turned. His piercing blue eyes found yours instantly, and a faint, unreadable smile tugged at his lips.

He spoke your name, his voice smooth and welcoming. “I’m glad you could make it."

“Mr. Wayne,” you said, offering a polite smile as you stepped inside. Closing the big heavy door behind you.

"Come, sit. Um- Can I get you something? Coffee, tea?” He gestured to the leather chair in front of his table and mumbled.

He wasn’t the boy, that everyone got him for. No grand gestures, no effortless charm that swept people off their feet the second they see him. No boyish smirks or remarks.

Instead, he seemed quieter, even hesitant, as if he wasn’t entirely sure how to navigate these interactions. As if this, this kind of meeting, wasn’t something he was entirely comfortable with.

"I'm- I'm not good at this. I don't usually do these... meetings," he said with a sigh.

"We've met before," you chuckle as you follow his lead, settling onto the leather chair as he sits on the edge of a matching chair on the other side of the wooden table.

"Under different circumstances," he says and rests his forearms on his knees, his fingers lacing together. His eyes running around the room, not on you. He was looking nearly nervous.

For another brief moment, the room was quiet. Apart for the steady patter of rain against the windows. Bruce seemed to be searching for the right words to start this conversation.

“I know this is… unusual," he began, his voice soft, almost apologetic. “Calling you here like this. Unexpectedly."

You softly smile at that.

"When I bou— acquired your company,” he began, quickly switching the words to more formal ones, his voice steady but soft, “I wasn't buying for money, for more growth. Those people, they know what they're doing. The power they hold, the company does."

You blinked at that. Caught off guard by the unexpected sincerity in his tone.

Caught off guard by the unexpected sincerity of his words.

"Carmine Falcone wanted to buy it first."

Your jaw nearly falls at that. Your eyebrows shot up. That name sent a chill down your spine.

"Falcone wanted to buy the company?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bruce nodded, "he saw an opportunity to use it for money. Acquiring a legitimate business would have given him a perfect front. Especially with one which has files about the whole entire city."

"So, you bought it,” you said, the pieces clicking together. “To stop him?"

"Yes..." Bruce admitted, his gaze wandering back to you finally, "but that’s not the only reason. When I looked into the company, I saw potential—not just in the business itself, but in the people. In you.”

"In me?"

A chuckle escaped him, something faint but genuine. His head tilted just enough to let a small, fleeting smile form, "your work stood out to me. The way you managed files, streamlined processes, and handled everything with precision—it wasn’t just good. It was exceptional actually. And when I realized what Falcone could do with those same systems…” He trailed off, sighing and shaking his head. “I knew I had to step in.”

It all felt surreal at this moment.

"So, now what?” you asked, your heart beating. “You saved the company. What do you want from me?"

Bruce’s lips curved into a faint smile, "I need someone I can trust and someone who knows the work, who understands the systems there. I want you to be my assistant—not just to help manage files and projects, but to make sure everything runs the way it’s supposed to, you know?"

You feel like you may faint at any moment now if he continues.

"You think... That I can do that?" you mutter, eyes leaving his, looking down at your feet.

"I know you can."

“I... I need to think about it,” you said after a few seconds.

Bruce nodded, his expression softening. “Of course, how much time you need. And… thank you.

He stood up and you did as well. Standing, he extended his hand. You hesitated only for a second before shaking it. His grip was firm but careful, lingering just long enough to convey something deeper than words. He walked you to the door, the two of you moving in silence, nearly awkwardly. As you stepped out into the hallway, you could feel the weight of his gaze lingering on you.

Then you both part your ways. His gaze stays on you as you leave. His eyes trailing on your figure as you walk down the hallway.

Deep in his chest, his heart is beating louder than before. And he deeply knows, he only wants to hear yes from you. You're perfect. There is no other discussion.

The cold wind blews in your face as you walk on the streets. The whistling of the wind sounds around as you make your way back onto the station.

The meeting was brief and quick. Your mind is unfocused unfortunately. You're thinking about all different alternatives of accepting this position. What if you say no? What are you going to lose? If you say yes, what are you going to achieve? Or even lose?

It needs to sit in your head for a while to see the right point. The right path.

Your steps sound as you step down the stairs down to the station, clicking your card against the panel to let you through.

You walk towards your stop, where you wait for the old train to come rush past to get you home. The cold breeze under the city in the tunells fly over the people. You hug yourself in your coat as you wait.

The sudden sound of the train hissing in the distance gets you out of the daydream you were stuck in. Daydream about the infamous so-called prince, Bruce Wayne.

The train halts to a stop and the doors screetch as they open. People in the train walks out and then you try to make your way inside through the leaving crowd.

The train is kind of empty by now. Just few people sitting in the dirty seats, some standing.

A group of teenagers stand furtner down the train. They all have painted faces; like skeletons, or clowns. You cannot place it. But they seem no better than any other wannabe gangsters in the city.

As your eyes flickers to them, one of them is already staring at you. A younger one, his face pained only on one half. He looks like the youngest of the group, he looks scared. The white and red smears contrast sharply against his skin, his eyes filled with something between hesitation and fear.

As you stare at each other for a brief moment, one of his buddies notice the eye contact. He nudges his buddies by shoulders and snickers. You quickly look away, gripping the strap of your bag tighter.

You're happy that the meeting with Mr. Wayne was sooner than the Halloween event in the city started. During the night of Halloween everyone is outside in the streets, in masks, celebrating. One of the few nights where you can come into a store, face covered in mask, and nobody would a bat an eye. Gotham’s streets become a blur of masks and costumes, a perfect cover for those with ill intentions.

That's why crimes go up dramatically during this certain day.

The automated voice annouces your stop, you get up and hold onto the pole until the train comes to total stop. The doors open and you're already walking out.

They're as well.

From your peripheral vision, you can see the group exists from the doors few seats down. You clutch at your bag as you walk away from the train.

You're walking faster than usually. The station there is empty. Only you and the group behind you. You quickly make your way towards the stairs to get out. The station is nearly empty, eerily quiet aside from the faint hum of flickering overhead lights

You're suddenly yanked backwards. They snatched you by the strap of your bag. Stumbling backwards, you face the group of men with painted faces.

Without second thought, you turn around and run.

The younger boy stays put, his buddies starts to run. You see a man by his side shake him and most likely yell at him.

You're running, cluthing your bag and umbrella. Your steps echoing as you run on the station platform's damp floor.

Then it comes, one of the man reaches you. And his hands come to contact with your back, pushing you forwards. Hard. You spin around, barely catching yourself before you fall. You fall down at the damp floor of the station. You were nearly at the exit. Your knee scratches against the floor and your head thumps against the ground. A pained hiss leaves you.

"Fucking bitch!" One of the men roars as he arrives next to the man, that pushed you. He has a scowl on his face as he drags the young boy by his hood.

He pushes him forward towards you by the hood. He looks down at you, his eyes wide open as he stares at you. His wide eyes filled with something that almost looks like regret.

"Show her, man!" one of the buddies says as they push the younger boy. You move yourself up to sit, crowded by the man, sitting on the damp floor against the wall. Nowhere to run.

In the quiet of the station, there is suddenly a loud noise. A thumping of boots. Steps.

The younger bot turns around, eyeing the dark tunnell where the sound comes from. Some of the other men also turns around towards the sound. Some of them asking each other questions about it.

The sound is terrifying.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, adrenaline still coursing through your veins from the attack of the man.

One of the men steps up in front of the group. Unzipping his jacket and pulling up a long machete.

The sound is closer, the steps echoing even louder as it comes closer.

You wish you could stand up and run now. But some of the men are still turned towards you, keeping you seated.

You don't see the tunnel from where the noise is coming from. But you know the person mist have finally showed to the light. The men are suddenly chuckling and laughing at the person. The younger boy quickly turns his head to look down at you, scared, and then he turns back.

"The hell are you supposed to be?"

The man with machete raises his voice to call out to the approaching figure. The person doesn't answer. By the sound of his steps, he's closer than ever.

The man with machete steps forward and swings his arm. Trying to hit him with the weapon.

What a stupid move.

The man is now laying on the floor, beaten up in a matter of few seconds. The machete clatters to the ground, its owner now writhing in pain. Bloodied face. You see him laying on the floor through the group of men in front of you.

"I'm vengeance."

The person finally speaks. His voice hard, deep and husky. A man. He stands up back to his high. Towering the group of face painted men. Some of them muttering and cussing as the man stands before them. You hug yourself closer to the wall, cluthing your bag and umbrella. Taking a deep breath as you watch the group and the man.

Panic seizes the group of men. The group suddenly moves forwards, attacking the man. They're all fighting. Your eyes widen as the men you feared fall to the floor in blink of an eye. The younger boy quickly leaps to the side, away from the fight. His eyes apologetically flicker to yours. His eyes glistening, as he keeps his gaze on yours. You nearly feel bad for him.

The man in black fights all of them. Most of them already on the ground, shaking in pain or fear.

A gunshot rings out.

The bullet flickers off the armor, that the man is wearing. He quickly stalks towards the man with the gun. His arm reaching out, he grasps him by the neck. Smashing his whole body against the nearest pole, a sudden wave of electric shooting out of his hand or a weapon. You cannot tell from your position on the floor. The man yells in pain and then the electricity stops. The man pushes him off the pole and he slides down on the damp floor. A pained groan leaving him.

The pained men, who were laying on the floor then slowly, but steadily stand up. Every one of them on different side of the station platform. Thrown there like a doll. They all mutter something inbetween each other and then they nod to each other. Then they're off running out of the station, Their footsteps fade into the distance, the last of them disappearing into the night. The younger boy hesitates for a second, his gaze flickering between you and the figure clad in black.

You gulp as the men scrabble away, leaving you alone with the man in dark armor. You now finally notice the cape and the black pointed ears. The symbol of a bat in middle of hos chest and the amount of weaponry on his armor. The pointed bat-like ears perched on top of the black leather helmet mask. The cape blowing behind him.

"Please don't hurt me," you whisper quickly. The weight of his gaze pins you in place against the wall.

The man turns his whole body to you, his eyes flickering to yours. His shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath and then he steps forward. The boots making a weird sound on the damp floor, as he stops.

"I won't hurt you," he tells you, coming closer to your sitting form on the floor.

His hand raised towards you, "come on."

You look down at his outstretched hand and then back up at his face. You sigh and clasp your smaller hand onto his gloved up. He helps you stand up effortlessly.

You finally stand on your shaken knees, his bigger body towering above you. His head hung low as his eyes watch you.

"Thank... Thank you," you stutter out as you put your bag on your shoulder. Your eyes flicking to his. He's standing steadily in front of you. As he hears your answer, he nods.

"Go home," The rough deep voice sounds out again. His feet moving as he steps away from you without turning his back.

You breathe out a soft puff of breath and nod, "yeah, that's where I was headed."

You then take a step forward towards him, your eyes not leaving his. You have something on your mind. You open your mouth and then close it without saying what you wanted to say.

You walk past him. A sigh coming out of you as you make your way towards the stairs which lead you out of the station. As you're reaching the stairs, you turn your head to the side, to catch a quick glimpse of the man again. When your head is turned, and your eye sfell on the place, where he stood few moments ago, you don't see him anymore. The spot is empty, the station is quiet once again. As if he was never there. As if he left without a single trace in the world. By a blink of an eye. He's suddenly gone.

You're wondering how such a bigger person, fully dressed up in armor and cloak, strapped weapons for combat, can leave without a single trace or a single sound. Like a feather.

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

eeekk here is the fourth part i hope you liked it even if it was shorter !!! we're finally moving up with the actual movie yipp

thank you for reading :)))

give it some love if u liked it thank u <3

[gothic-thoughts]

OFC I Don't Mind

Toji Fushiguro x Black Fem Reader Smut

MDNI, Roommate!AU, Friends2lovers, Drabble

CW: sending nudes to the wrong person (nightmare fuel), Toji has a job (😭), Toji intimidating you, some smashing at the end

Not proofread

Toji was still at work, typing on his computer when he was slightly startled by someone blowing up his phone, the ringtone repeating over and over in the quiet room. He rolls his eyes and stops typing, initially giving his fingers a break as he picks up his phone to see his lock screen now covered with messages from you, his roommates. They were all photos.

"The fuck…" Toji squints, typing in his password, "I swear to god if it's a bunch of memes…"

He opened the messages and his heart nearly stopped when he saw multiple mirror selfies of you in lingerie, then braless. His eyes were wide, unable to take his eyes off the screen, the only part of him moving was his thumb when his phone dimmed from lack of activity.

You: SHIT! You: FUSHIGURO DON'T LOOK AT THE LAST MESSGE You: *MESSAGE

He snaps out of his trance for a second to read the new message only for his eyes to roam back to the cluster of pictures in his inbox. His eyes look over every intricate design in the blue lace in the first pictures then to the dark brown areolas and smooth-looking skin of your tits in the next ones. A smirk slowly creeps across his face.

You: Im sorry they were meant for my fwb You: Ik ur mad his name is right next to yours on my phone and I clicked too fast. I'm so sorry You: Istg I didn't mean it Toji: Bullshit. You: Im being deadass,im sorry You: Just delete them

He takes a few seconds to read before a smirk creeps across his face.

Toji: I'll be there in 20. You: What, wait don’t hurt me! You: I said I was sorry. I swear it was an accident Toji: I said I’ll be back in 20 minutes. You: Bro relax! You: Just delete them and I swear it’ll never happen again Toji: Apologize in person. I will be there in twenty minutes.

Exactly 20 minutes later you hear the front door unlock and open from your bedroom upstairs, causing you to freeze in fear. His heavy footsteps climb the stairs. His footsteps sounded like thunder as they got louder and louder with him approaching your room. Finally, you heard him stop and knock on your bedroom door. You hold your breath. He waits outside the room for a few seconds and then you hear him knock again. You can hear his evil chuckle echoing throughout the hall. You take a breath and step closer to the locked door. “....Yeah?” "Open the door." “I feel like you gonna swing on me when I do so--” "Just. Open. The door." “Not if you gonna hurt me.” There's an angry sigh and he knocks on the door again. "You have ten seconds before I kick this fucking door in." “Toji, I told you it was an accident! You're doing a lot right now!” There was a short pause, as it became eerily quiet outside the door.

"Nine." “Wha- stop!” "Eight." “Fushiguro, you don't think this is an overreaction!?” "Seven." “Nigga!” "Six." “Alright, alright, fine!” You say unlocking the door before running back to the opposite side of your room. “It's open…” You hear his footsteps on the other side of the door as he walks in. He rolled up his sleeves as he made his way across the room, tossing his jacket onto your bed before he finally reached you with an exhausted sigh.

He sighs and reaches to hold your chin but instead, his thumb traces down your jawline and he tilts your head up to look into his eyes. His expression was no longer angry as he looked you up and down. You let out a shaky breath, finally breathing at the feeling of his surprisingly light touch. A few seconds pass as he stares at you, his thumb continuing to trace around the edge of your lips before finally he speaks. "I enjoyed ‘em a lot. Only thing pissin' me off is the fact they weren't for me." “Oh… oh…” "If you want to take away my anger, I have an idea of how you could do that." “You… you serious?”

He picks you up and tosses you onto your bed, the swiftness knocking the wind out of you before he even mounts you. You look up at him with wide eyes and lick your lips as he grips your wrists, pinning them about your head.

"You ask too many fuckin' questions. Now, lemme see those tits again."

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Half an hour later, you were both sweaty as ragged grunts filled your room. One hand had your fingers hooked into the messy bedsheets while the other held his shoulder as if he'd go somewhere. His hands were firmly planted into the mattress as he continued moving with jealously-driven fervor. Your phone suddenly rings, showing your fuck buddy's number on the screen.

Toji freezes at first, the movement stopping when hearing the phone. He stares down at you for a few seconds as he tries to process all of this as you hear your phone ring again and again. "Answer it." “What?” "Answer. It." You slowly pick up the phone. “H-ello?” Toji is still staring intently at you as he hears your friend on the phone. He lifts both of your legs to his shoulders and begins to move again, uncaring what your friend could hear. The friend laughs over the phone. “You with someone right now?” “Wh-what? N-no, I'm fine, just… in the shower.” “Oh yeah?” The friend chuckles, “That shower must be packing then." “F-uck you.” Toji smirks when he hears your friend laughing in the background before you hang up the phone. “Sh-shut up, you're… acting like you didn't decide to go as deep as possible, you bastard.” He laughs and lifts your body off the bed, holding you in his arms as he pushes you against the nearest wall. "That a complaint?" “No”

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(a/n): sorry if it felt rushed i literally noticed its been a week since I last posted 😅😅😅

[redroomreflections]

PRESIDENTIAL AU TIDBITS

this is all just for fun for the time being. I'm also watching scandal

The heels of your pumps clicked against the marble floors as you strode down the hallway, your assistant barely keeping pace beside you, rattling off the day’s remaining tasks. You scrolled through your Blackberry to get through as many emails as possible as you headed through the West Wing toward the Oval Office.

“Senator Hughes wants a call before the end of the night, your briefing with the Joint Chiefs has been moved up to seven-thirty, and the French ambassador is still requesting a follow-up—”

Behind you, a few agents followed in silence. You had a handle on multitasking as you shook your head.

"Tell Senator Hughes I'm busy, reschedule the Joint Chiefs for eight, and tell the ambassador to send an official request."

You rounded the corner and passed through security, where agents were scanning the room before moving on.

"And the Canadian prime minister?"

"Cancel."

She nodded, writing down the messages as you walked. Your mind was on the rest of the day, already calculating the best course of action. As you neared the Oval Office, Janie glanced down at her notes and hesitated for half a second before speaking again.

“Oh, and the press office wants to know if you’re available for a soft feature on ‘A Day in the Life of the President.’”

You scoffed, not even looking up from your Blackberry. “Sure. Let’s start with ‘watching government officials ignore basic logic in real-time.’ Think that’ll make the cut?”

Janie bit back a laugh, shaking her head. “I’ll let them know you’re considering it.”

You smirked, finally glancing up. “Good. And tell them if they ask again, I’ll be sure to schedule it right after my deep dive into international debt reform. Should be riveting content.”

Janie chuckled under her breath but quickly straightened when she noticed you raising a brow.

"Who's this?" You gestured to Natasha with a thumb over your shoulder.

"This is your new agent, Natalie Rushman," Janie replied, flipping through her notes without missing a beat. "Former U.S. Army, served three years, transferred to the Secret Service after a stint in counterterrorism. Black belt in karate and jiu-jitsu, fluent in five languages, advanced marksmanship, defensive driving, explosives training—”

You exhaled sharply, giving the woman in question a once-over. She was composed, standing with perfect posture, expression unreadable.

“Impressive,” You admitted, crossing your arms. “And finally, some more estrogen on the team. It’s about time.”

Janie smirked, but Natasha didn’t so much as blink. You continued walking as Janie spouted off more things on your to do list.

"No, reschedule," You shook your head. "No, no, yes, no," you muttered, walking faster. You turned around, striding in the other direction.

“And,” Janie's assistant continued, flipping through her notes, “Sophia’s on line two.”

That gave you pause. “My Sophia?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Alright, I’ll take it in the Oval.”

By the time you stepped inside of the office, you had already slipped off your blazer and were rolling up your sleeves. You pressed the blinking line on your desk phone, trusting that someone else would close the door.

"Sophia?” You called. "Hi, baby, how are you?"

A dramatic sigh came from the receiver. “Oh, so you do remember I exist.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose again. “It’s been a day, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, well, it was a day for me too,” Sophia said. “Specifically, a day where you forgot I had my orchestra concert. Again.”

Shit.

Before you could apologize, Sophia kept going.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. You were probably off saving the country or whatever. Meanwhile, I had to play the first chair with zero moral support—do you know how stressful that is?—and then Mellie had the audacity to say—”

Your daughter’s voice dropped into a furious rant about her classmate, and that’s when the expletives started. Creative ones. Vivid ones. Ones you were certain Sophia did not learn in your household.

"She's such a stupid bitch, and—don't tell me not to call her that, she is—and it's just not fair. Why can't people be nice for once, instead of being mean, or annoying, or rude, or—"

You let her vent for a while, nodding as she rambled. You pressed the button to switch from speaker to receiver and pressed the phone to your ear.

“—an absolute, delusional, gaslighting little—”

“Sophia.”

“What?”

Your voice flattened. “Language.”

Sophia scoffed. “Oh, now you want to parent me.”

You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. “I’ll make it up to you, alright? Dinner on me, of course. Tomorrow night at eight. And we’re having a conversation about your vocabulary.”

A pause.

“Fine,” Sophia muttered. “But I want sushi. And not the cheap kind.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile. “Noted. Now go do your homework.”

“Okay, get off my back," You could practically hear the eye roll.

"I love you, Sophia," You said.

"Love you too, Madam President,"

You hung up, tossing the phone onto your desk.

"Is something funny, Janie?"

"No, m'am," Janie quickly shook her head. Your eyes glanced over to the new agent. Natalie was still stone faced but something in her look told you she agreed with Janie.

"Natalie?" You asked

“Your daughter has exceptional tactical vocabulary, ma'am."

Janie bit back a laugh. Your glare snapped to your assistant, but there was no real heat behind it.

"Get out," You ordered, trying to hide your own smile.

Janie cleared her throat, collected her files, and headed toward the door.

"Yes, m'am," She grinned. "Though you should know Quinn and Joseph are on their way in less than..."

Before she could finish, the twins burst through the Oval Office, making a beeline for you.

Quinn clutched a well-loved stuffed pig in her arms, her determined steps making it clear she had a mission. Joseph trailed close behind. Their nanny barely managed to keep up, looking apologetic as she hovered in the doorway.

“Mom!” Quinn called, ignoring every ounce of decorum the room demanded as she rounded the desk. Joseph followed suit, reaching for your hand as soon as he was close enough.

You sighed, but there was no real exasperation behind it. “I thought it was bedtime?”

Quinn clambered into your lap without hesitation, clutching her stuffed pig like a battle companion. “We tried. Didn’t stick.”

Joseph, slightly more diplomatic, rested his chin on your desk. “We missed you.”

Your features softened as you smoothed a hand over Quinn’s hair and gave Joseph’s cheek a quick kiss. "Two executive orders just walked into the room." You said.

"Mama, can you read us to bed tonight?" Joseph asked.

"Yes, Mom," Quinn looked up, batting her eyelashes.

"Bribery is a form of coercion," You said.

"So is lying," Joseph said.

"And cheating."

"And stealing."

"And killing people," Quinn added.

"Okay, okay," You held up your hands, laughing. "Point taken. I cannot read you a story tonight. I still have a few things to do."

"Aww," Quinn groaned, pouting. "Do they have to do with the big secret thingy?"

"The 'secret thingy'?" You raised a brow.

"Yeah, the thingy we're not supposed to talk about because of national security and stuff," Quinn nodded.

"Quinn, I know you've heard the word 'secret' before, so maybe you could elaborate?"

"No, that's a good explanation," Joseph said. "'Secret' means no one should know about it."

You smiled, brushing the hair out of Joseph's face. "Well, this 'secret thingy,'" You used finger quotations for the phrase. "Is just some boring adult stuff."

"But Sophia's not an adult, and she knows," Quinn said.

"Sophia knows nothing," You denied. "Now, I want you two to meet my new agent. She'll be with us for the foreseeable future."

The twins' heads snapped around, looking at the new agent for the first time.

"She's pretty," Quinn said. "Doesn't look mean either."

"You can't just say that," Joseph scolded.

"Why not? It's true."

"I'm sorry about them," You addressed Natasha. Natasha only nodded. "You can talk to me, Natalie. I don't have a stick up my behind despite the rumors."

"Yes, ma'am." Natalie nodded. "Nice to meet you both." She said rather stiffly but not unfriendly.

Quinn narrowed her eyes, sizing Natasha up with the intensity of a pint-sized interrogator. “So, where are you from?”

“New York,” Natasha answered evenly.

Joseph crossed his arms. “Have you ever had to jump in front of a bullet for someone?”

Natasha tilted her head slightly. “Not yet.”

Quinn leaned forward, her stuffed pig tucked under one arm. “Can you do karate?”

“Yes.”

“Like, really good karate?”

“Yes.”

Joseph gasped. “Can you throw someone through a window?”

Natasha’s lips twitched. “Depends on the window.”

The twins exchanged looks, clearly impressed. Quinn gave a solemn nod. “Okay. I guess you can stay.”

Before they could continue their interrogation, you raised a hand. “Alright, that’s enough. This is not a Senate hearing.” You turned to Natasha, shaking your head. “I swear they get it from their sister.”

Natasha gave a slight shrug, but you noticed her eyes crinkle.

[peonyneko]

To Know You Pt.2 | OldestSon!Nanami x YoungestDaughter!Reader

Notes: Once again, this fanfic is very self-indulgent, so many of you may not be able to relate to it... I don't know how often I will post, I just like writing about it. Requests are open?? But to be veryy honest, I'm not sure if I have for request, but I'm open to discussions through the inbox/request box. Send me any anon messages~

I'll clean up any mistakes soon!

Word count: 6k+

Genre: Angst(?), Fluff, A touch/sprinkle of suggestive content (not really), NO SMUT YET

Warnings: Grammar mistakes (I'll fix it), vomit, not good eating habits, cursing, and arranged marriage things(?)

Extra info:

Nanami's Friends: Gojo, Geto, Shoko, Utahime, etc

Nanami's Juniors: Mainly Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara, does include Maki, Yuta, and Toge.

Nanami is hinted to be in his mid/late 30s and reader is hinted to be in her twenties.

Part 1

---

OldestSon!Nanami who woke up from the smell of something good. Looking at the clock, to realize it’s past 11 AM, but quick to also realize his father gave him a week off. One, to get to know you better. Two, to plan your honeymoon for later on.

He notices you weren’t in bed, so after freshening up he follows the delicious scent. He watches as you look through the cabinets, very quietly, familiarizing yourself with what's there. You sigh in relief when you see maple syrup in the cabinet.

He found it… odd, to be honest. He usually was the one cooking for others, especially his younger siblings. He banned his brother, at that time in his early twenties, from entering the kitchen after he had burnt milk… Milk! (Though he is now much better at cooking.)

So to have you cook something was… fresh, but normal for an adult nonetheless. He wondered if you cooked for yourself often.

“Good morning. It smells nice,” he says, his voice rough and deep. You turn around with a spatula in your hand and next to you what seemed to be strawberry pancakes on a plate.

You nod, “Good morning… Yeah, thought I’d make something before you go to work.”

It clicks that he never told you. Shit. 

“My dad actually gave me the week off. I apologize for the confusion. I should’ve told you during our date,” he says, nearing you and grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

“That’s okay. We barely had the time,” you say, turning back to your pancakes and putting the last one on the plate. Another plate with scrambled eggs.

“Do you have work?” he asks and you shake your head. 

“I’m off for a week too. My boss found out I was getting married out-of-nowhere,” you shrugged, the words leaving your mouth so casually.

“You didn’t tell them?” he continues, bringing out plates and utensils to place on the table.

You shake your head, “Not that I didn’t. I told them, but they didn’t expect it so soon.”

OldestSon!Nanami hums, being in a similar position himself. Everyone’s jaw dropped when they found out, from Gojo’s loud mouth, not himself. He didn’t even tell Gojo! His mom did. She adored that blue-eyed lunatic. 

You fetch the water jug filling up the water cups. You both sit on opposite ends, a little far from each other. It gnawed at his chest, so he asked.

“Why did you want to get married?” The silence lingers for a while, and he could tell you, too, are looking for words to not hurt him.

“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t judge your reasons. I’m sure I’m no better,” he reassures.

You licks your lips. “For my family, I guess. My mom really wants to see me get married. She’s quite old and has health problems, so I agreed.”

Nanami noticed you held your guard up, keeping a distance between the two of you. Something you’re not telling him, but he doesn’t press.

“Do you regret it?” he asks and you shake your head.

“Not if you don’t,” you whispered before taking a bite of your pancakes. His gaze lingered on you. Not if he doesn’t? 

“You’re my wife. I won’t regret the wife I chose. Yes, we don’t know each other, but I don’t want you to feel suffocated, so please do tell me anything and everything.” 

You look back at him with sparkling eyes and then you change the topic.

He took a bite of the pancakes and eggs and was surprised. He could hug you for how fluffy and delicious they are. It didn’t even take a second to know it was better than any he made.

“What do you want to do today?” you ask. 

He hums, “I have a few places in mind, where we can go, but where do you want to go?”

“Oh, what did you have in mind?” you ask and he tells you the locations after another big bite of the pancakes. His mind can’t get over how you made the pancakes this fluffy and good.

“We can go there,” you say and his ears perk up.

“Where exactly?” he asks for specifics.

“The, um, restaurant, the Salt one,” you tried to repeat what he’d said early, only to fail.

“Ah, Saltspringlis?” he clarifies, telling you that he’ll take you tonight for dinner.

OldestSon!Nanami who notices you skipping lunch and asks you about what you wanted, only for you to say you’ll eat later, stalling on it. Hours go by and he noticed you were busy unpacking your things. He helped you, in hopes that you’d take a break and go eat, but you just continue unpacking, so he asked.

“Well, I had breakfast with you and I don’t want to be full for dinner,” you say, not paying mind to the utterly confused look on his face. Huh? 

“I also forgot,” you mumble, folding another shirt into the drawer. He felt compelled to scold you, the way he used to scold his siblings for taking way too long to go eat. But he doesn’t.

“You should eat a snack,” he suggests, folding your pants and putting it in the drawer of pants. He leaves the room, bringing back an apple, then somewhat “orders” you to sit down and eat while he unpacks for you.

OldestSon!Nanami who neatly organized your clothes the way he noticed you organizing them. Who casually reaches inside the duffle bag beside the nightstand, only for you to tighten the opening, stops his hand from moving. Your eyes were panicked and with the apple in between your lips. He stops and there are a few seconds of silence between you two.

“Um, I have underwear in this,” you explain.

OldestSon!Nanami removes his hand from the bag, the feeling on lace and silk catching his attention as he does. Your face was red and he isn’t dumb. He knows that these were perhaps lingerie packed for activities, maybe by someone else. But he’s also not crass or rude. He acts like he doesn’t know what's inside, nor does he sexualize it. 

OldestSon!Nanami who takes you to Saltspringlis, a seafood restaurant, but also invites some of his friends and company juniors. Gojo and Geto come with Yuji and Megumi, while Shoko arrives with Nobara and Maki. He was glad to know you got along with them, even if they did most of the talking, you still looked pleased but…

OldestSon!Nanami who wonders why you don’t touch your food, you just pick at it. You pick at the scallops and shrimp risotto. In the hour that passed, everyone had finished their plate except you. And soon it was time to leave. 

He wasn’t angry, no, no, no! He was curious and maybe a little disappointed. 

Your marriage was arranged. He didn’t dislike you, no it was the opposite. He liked you, platonically. But he noticed you barely ate your dinner.

He grew up being told to appreciate food and finish his plate. “Others aren’t as fortunate as we are, Kento,” his mother would say. His parents didn’t force him to finish his food if he really couldn’t. But he grew up learning it’s proper and respectful to finish what you got for yourself or what was served.

His younger siblings were told the same about finishing meals, but less tied to the rule. They weren’t kept on the table until they finished like he and another one of his siblings were. And as Nanami sees from your habits, you were probably given that leniency too.

You bit into the shrimp, eating maybe a quarter of the meal before never touching it again. And soon it was time to leave. He noticed others' questions if you were hungry. “You didn’t even eat much,” Yuji, who was around your age, exclaimed. You simply told everyone you’re full. Nanami told you to get it packed to-go and you nodded, doing just that. 

OldestSon!Nanami who fought with OnlyChild!Gojo to pay the bill for everyone. In the end, Gojo beat him by a millisecond to tap it on the card reader.

OldestSon!Nanami who was a little surprised when your stomach growled in the silent car ride. He looked over to you for a second, suggesting, “Finish the food at the house.” You only nod, not saying much.

OldestSon!Nanami who was just a tiny bit irked when he saw the to-go box still in the fridge the next morning. So, once you told him with an avoidant gaze that you didn’t want it, he ate it himself.

OldestSon!Nanami and you went through the motions of your break, one week passing by fairly quickly. You both ate together for almost every meal. ‘Almost’ because you had a tendency to avoid meals and lean towards snacking. Though, at least you’d have breakfast and dinner. Two days into the break, he helped you settle in, encouraging you to decor the place however you’d want. He didn’t mind. He wanted you to feel like you belonged.

So there you were, day three of seven days of break, at a home goods store, gawking the prices as you tried to find the cheapest ones. Why are they so expensive?! Nanami, too, was looking but he looked rather unfazed. 

You found one of the shelves to be beautiful, so beautiful you wanted it. But that feeling quickly sizzled out once the price of $1,500 revealed itself on the tag. You carried on with a tight smile, not looking back. You looked everywhere, and no matter what, nothing was under $500. Even a nightstand. A nightstand!

OldestSon!Nanami who sees you silent sigh to yourself as you walk back to the same place you started off. He asks you if this store was not to your taste, but you simply shake your head, quietly telling him it’s over your budget. 

Perplexed, he leans down, “I’m well-over capable to pay it.”

OldestSon!Nanami watches you explain that you aren’t going to let him pay for it! If you like it and want it, you’ll buy it. He is just there looking back, absolutely astonished. Though, he hid it well behind his stoic face and clenched jaw. Who told you you’d be paying for these things?

“I respect that you want to pay for it, but you’re not going to. Moreso, I won’t let you. If you like something, I’ll get it. It’s for the house,” he replies, beginning to walk towards someone.

Before you can even attempt to convince him not to, he tells an employee to buy two items, giving the item number, as well. You watch him not hesitate the slightest. Even on the drive home, he doesn’t say much about what he bought, so you assumed he got what he liked. 

OldestSon!Nanami who tells you to come down the next day, because a delivery came in. You look at him in utter disbelief as the same beautiful shelf stood in front of you. He watches as your expression goes from confusion to shock to admiration and then to…

“Wait, I- Did you buy it because of me?” your brows furrowed as your voice got small. You had a sort of guilt in your voice, almost as if you didn’t want him to get it.

So he panics. “No! No… I got it because I really liked it,” he lied, “Why? Did you?”

Your face calms and you sigh in relief, “Yeah… Can I help you build it?”

OldestSon!Nanami and you who spend day 4 of your break building and moving things around the house. He notices you bump into things here and there, so he just… moves them out of the way when you shuffle around. He quietly reorganizes the pantry, so you don’t risk breaking your hip when you climb the countertop.

What? He caught you easily climbing it on your knees, as if you do that often when he’s not looking. It made you avoid his gaze for hours, with an embarrassed laugh, mumbling, “Sorry. I’ll clean it.”

YoungestDaughter!Reader who still notices him reorganizing the pantry because she’s always aware of Nanami. Who enjoys building the shelf with Nanami, her brows furrows in focus and eyes fixed on the screws. She organizes her book, usually by title and genre, but quietly places Nanami’s favorites to his eye level (knowing from his family and friends). 

YoungestDaughter!Reader who places a cup of water on the kitchen counter, knowing Nanami will just drink it. He’s done that before. What? She’s just making sure he’s hydrated. Who softly asks Nanami if he has any photos he wants to put up there.

He does. 

OldestSon!Nanami who opens up his album of high school memories and recent pictures with his juniors. All of them. Who stupidly skips past the wedding pictures, not noticing YoungestDaughter!Reader’s eyes wait in foolish anticipation.  

YoungestDaughter!Reader who is quick to move on from the slight disappointment. After all, this relationship had no feelings, it’s arranged. She smiles at the memories, but it dawns on her that she doesn’t know him… At All. Certainly not anything close to what his juniors even know. So she asks about his high school and college, hoping for any response even if it’s not a deep one.

“It was fun,” Nanami whispered, brushing his thumb over two faces. A girl and a guy. 

Silence. Horrible, awkward silence.

“Uh, what year was that?” you ask from behind him. He doesn’t talk and so you let it go. You hated this feeling, the sticky, horrible feeling of begging for him to respond or talk. 

After all, you grew up knowing to swallow your feelings and just let people be, especially if they didn’t want you. You grew up being the listener. When no one asked or responded, you wouldn’t speak either. You hated this sticky, unbearable feeling or being the only one wanting to talk.

You look through your own set of pictures, ones of your friends and family, some that you already printed to frame. You and Nanami decorated the shelf, but sadly it looked as if two roommates had done it, not a married couple. 

You keep your thoughts to yourself. You knew what to expect coming in. No matter how much his mother told this would be love, the moment you knew Nanami seemed to have… settled, you knew this is just that, a settlement. 

But you stupidly already started to enjoy his presence.

YoungestDaughter!Reader who has countless sketches of Nanami in her sketchbook, all of them in her forbidden, never-open-in-front-of-others sketchbook. All of them are drawn in the month you’ve known him.  Some doodles, others a bit more detailed. 

OldestSon!Nanami, who saw the sketch book lying around, picks it up out of curiosity, but never opens it. He respects your privacy. 

OldestSon!Nanami and you spend day 5 in the park with a beautiful garden. He noticed your eyes sparkle at the flowers, taking yet another picture as you walked around. He sends it to his mom, who replies with a dozen pink, yellow, and orange hearts for you, calling you, “So cute.” You come back to him, with a couple small flowers in your hand, dropping it into his palm without touching him, “I didn’t want to rip them off, but I found some instead.”

OldestSon!Nanami who blushes as you turn your back and continue walking as if you didn’t just give him the cutest small flowers of yellow and blue daisies.

OldestSon!Nanami who brings home salmon the next day and you cook it. He notices you eat only part of it and wait for him to finish before claiming that you're full. He lets it go, not saying anything about it.

The rest of the day you two are within each other's vicinity, but doing different things. You sketching something in your sketchbook and he's reading.

OldestSon!Nanami begins to dose off as he's reading, his book slipping from him a sliver. Despite being high alert with others, he can't help but feel a little at peace with... you.

You place your sketchbook aside, taking the blanket off yourself and putting it on Nanami instead. You take the book from his sleeping state and hesitantly tuck him into the blanket.

Nanami wakes up right when you put the blanket on him and he can't help but feel weird fluttering in his stomach. A few seconds of silent stares that happen between you two. You to him. Him to you.

"Um," you break the silence, "You should sleep... in the bedroom. You'll hurt your neck."

Nanami who hums, knowing that if he spoke, it'll be a stutter of words. He notices how you look so "caught in the act" when you did nothing wrong. He gives you a smile, clearing his throat as he stands up.

"Are you tired?" he asks.

You look back at your materials splayed out on the living room table and couch. Looking back at him, you shrug your shoulders.

"I'm not tired, but I can... keep you company after I clean up."

OldestSon!Nanami who waits 20 minutes, too giddy to sleep because you said you'd keep him company. Usually, you two went to sleep at different times. You were always staying up later than him.

OldestSon!Nanami who whispers goodnight as you settle into the bed, reading a book in your hand and small light on the book. He told you that you can keep the lights or lamp on, but you refused. You use a tiny book light

OldestSon!Nanami and you spend the night of your last day of break together at yet another expensive seafood restaurant. Nanami had asked you where you wanted to go, but you let him decide, telling him you didn’t know the place well.

You’d ordered a salmon dish with a side of asparagus. The price wasn’t the issue. He didn’t mean to get a little… irked. You took twenty minutes to order, but he didn’t mind. And by the time he’d eaten his food, you barely made a dent in yours.

He waited and waited, the conversation between you two was longer than the length you took to eat. The conversation was nothing out of the ordinary, just about both of your jobs and going back to the usual work routine. All that stuff. 

Your food long went cold and you were lingering, not touching it.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, curiously.

“Oh, no nothing. Why?” You ask, tilting your head.

“You’re not eating and your food is cold,” he points out. You look down at your plate and curl up. He should’ve stopped.

“It’s not good to waste food,” he adds, wiping his hands on the cloth.

“Yeah, um, I’m just full,” you quietly say, your neck heating up from his gaze. The same one that you got when you were younger. From many, many people.

You’d grown up similar to Nanami, but instead of being let off the hook your family yelled at you to eat and finish food. Admittedly, you avoided food because you were easily full, you’d prefer to have small portions. It didn’t help that your parents were on the poorer side. They’d guilt you about the money they spent on food.

And as Nanami said those words, you relive those memories.

“You’re all skin and bones! Why are you not eating?!”

“Fish is good for you, why are you being so picky?”

“She never eats. It’s such a hassle. What did I do wrong?.”

“I tried so many times to make her eat fish, she never does.”

“You should be happy. Lots of people can’t even eat fish.”

So, to avoid giving Nanami the wrong impression, despite heavily disliking seafood, you forced yourself to at least finish half, until you just couldn’t anymore. This month alone, you've eat more fish than you have in a lifetime.

The salmon left a bad taste in your mouth and you felt like throwing up. You would’ve had it not been for the asparagus you finished.

“Are you done?” Nanami asks, again. You nod your head with flushed cheeks, squeezing your hands in your lap. Sorry. 

He sighs and finishes paying. He barely says a word to you as you both go to the car. The food swirls in your stomach, the taste of the seafood still in your mouth palette. You didn’t get the chance to wash the gag-worthy taste away with water.

“Thank y-“

“If you didn’t want to eat out, you could’ve told me,” he bluntly said, gripping the steering wheel. He drove without looking at you, just a little bit irked. Okay, not just a little. Irked. He’s annoyed.

Gojo buys you food that you didn’t eat, then you don’t eat this time either. You never seemed to finish it, but then you eat something else much later on, ignoring the food container from the restaurant. Did you want fresh food? He’d get it. He just wanted you to be honest if you didn’t want to eat it anymore now that it’s old. Or that you didn’t want to eat with him and his friends in the first place.

“I’m not trying to force you to do anything. We’re married even though it was arranged, but I’m not here to force you,” he adds, and your stomach sinks further.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble as he drives in silence, paying you no mind. A few minutes go by. Your guilt grew more and you could physically feel his irritation.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to go eat,” you add, playing with your hands. I’m sorry. 

“Then?” He raises a brow, eyes in the road.

Your throat felt hot and your stomach swirls as the car hit a pothole. You didn’t want to admit it. You didn't want to admit that you didn’t like fish. You didn’t like seafood. Few exceptions, but fish was definitely not one. You tried to like it, but nothing ever got you to.

“I felt full,” you mumble and he is quick to click his tongue.

“Then you could’ve ordered something you wouldn’t waste. That simple,” he adds. 

He didn’t know why he got worked up. You weren’t a kid. He normally doesn’t care about habits. But you didn’t even have a full meal since breakfast. Yes, he noticed. How are you NOT hungry?

Growl! You bit your lip as your stomach made noises. Nanami sighed as he, too, heard it. You clearly were if your stomach was still growling.

“You don’t have to lie. I won’t blame you if you feel weird about going out with me. As I said, this marriage was done quickly and we’re not in love. ”

“No, I just… couldn’t finish it. I knew I probably would like it. I wanted to try, but… It didn’t taste good,” you mumble at the end. As Nanami drives, the sight of swift cars and alternating lights makes your stomach flip like hurricane swirls.

“But you got it anyway. You should’ve ordered something you could finish.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble out, your hand reaching up to cover your nose and mouth.

“No need to apologize to me. Just… it’s not good to waste food,” he said, voice flat and stern.

You felt shame rise up to your cheek as the food began to rise up your throat. You’d tried to swallow the sickly throat-wrenching feeling, but it was getting more and more unbearable. More and more the food climbed up your stomach and throat.

“Stop- Stop the car,” you quickly express, opening your seatbelt. And he does, pulling over immediately..

You stumble out of the car, and spill your guts out. Every bit of fish and asparagus you ate now spilled out on the ground. Nanami curses, his stomach sinking to the floor as you heave and bend over. He leaves the car to rub your back, his eyes brimmed with worry.

Fish usually made you queasy, especially if it smelled fishy. So you avoided it, but seeing Nanami always eat it so deliciously made you want to match his preference too. He got you water and you profusely apologized. He shakes his head, worried to no end. He checks your temperature and finds nothing. He’s there with you crouched down until your stomach calms, your arms settling beside you.

“What's wrong?”

“I’m sorry… I don’t like seafood.” And it clicks for him. Your face dropped when you looked through the menu, which had nothing but fish and scallops.

Fuck, he thought. He loves seafood, so did his entire family. It seemed like your family also enjoyed it, so he assumed you liked it too. But not once did he ever see you reach for any seafood dishes. Ever. 

He’d grown up eating anything, he wasn’t picky, moreso he wasn’t allowed to be. He didn’t care as long as it wasn’t sardines. You must’ve forced yourself to eat even half of the salmon. He carries you to the car, clicking in your seatbelt for you.

“I’m sorry,” he admits, “I should’ve told you it was seafood. It’s my fault, not yours.”

“Still it was expensive and you paid, so I can pay you back for wasting it,” your voice was so small and quiet. As if you expected him to be mad about it. As if you expect him to yell at you.

His heart aches, and he shakes his head, “No, no. What? That doesn’t matter. The price doesn’t matter. I’m your husband, it’s only a given.”

He help you get back into the car, making sure you were no long queasy. OldestSon!Nanami who has a small stash of medicine in a box of his car. He gives you a bottle of water and some nausea relief. Driving a little slower to avoid making your vision hazy and stomach churn again. Right when heard your stomach rumble, he was quick to stop at a random late night bakery.

“Do you like sweets?” He asks and you nod, only to panic when he starts to leave the car.

“No, you don’t have to! You’re wasting money,”

His brows furrow, “What? Nonsense, you threw up. And you’re hungry”

“I’ll buy it myself. Seriously.”

“No, sit here. What do you like?”

“I’m not telling you,” you insist.

“Then I’ll just get one of every flavor.”

You scoff at his ‘promise,’ “No you won’t.”

“You think?” he smirks, cocking his head to the side.

“You won’t,” you dryly chuckle, crossing your arms. You were too weak from the nausea to get up as he shut the car door, assuming he was joking. Surely, he’d just get a croissant.

He didn’t, in fact, just get a croissant. Keeping his word, Nanami comes back with a box full of pastries. Your eyes widen at the sheer amount in your lap.

“I- I can’t finish this!”

“I’ll help. Anything left over I’ll give it to friends. Please, I don’t want you fainting.”

He noticed you hesitate to grab the fancy one, the tiramisu croissant, so before you go for the plain butter croissant instead, he speaks.

“Go for it. I bought it for you,” he softly encourages. With a sheepish smile you take it, biting into the croissant.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” Nanami says, regretting his lecturing.

“You’re not a kid and you’re free to eat however much and whatever you want. I don’t mean to control you. I have no idea what got over me to act like that. I’m sorry.”

You nod your head, “That’s alright. I know you said it from a good place. I, uh, need to get better at letting you know about these things too.” 

That night, nothing big changed, but Nanami was sure of one thing: He never wants to see you sad and uneasy.

He couldn’t help that your tears made his heart ache. Maybe it was similar to the way he can’t see his juniors hurt? He just knew he didn’t want to see you unhappy. Maybe you were becoming a friend? He doesn’t know.

OldestSon!Nanami and you who still sleep with your backs faced away from each other, but closer. The distance would completely disappear if one of you flipped over. 

OldestSon!Nanami checks on you when waking up at the crack of dawn, he touches your forehead. And then realizes….

Realizes he hasn’t even hugged you, let alone held your hand. The farthest you’ve both gone was this… Him touching your forehead. And right then, he wanted to bang his head on the wall.

But maybe it was for the best? What if you don’t like him? What if you want a divorce soon? What if you liked someone else? Why would she like you? Someone so fucking old-

You groan in your sleep, moving around and facing him. His breath gets caught in his throat as the palm of his hand is now pressed between the bed and your cheek. Your hair strand cover part of your face, and fuck you looked so cute. 

An ache sew itself into Nanami's heart. He felt as though he'd ruined your life. Your love life. He wonders if you given no choice. Because why would you agree to marry him? You could've chosen anyone... But you chose him...

OldestSon!Nanami who went to sleep like that, not daring to move his hand from your cheek. So when you wake up, you wake up confused as to why you accidentally practically pinned Nanami to the edge of the bed (it was only his arm under you).

YoungestDaughter!Reader who wakes up a little excited because she gets to make him a lunchbox for the first time. She really wanted him to try one of her recipes that she made herself. She hesitates, thinking of cooking something common, but listening to her heart, she makes him something she came up with.

OldestSon!Nanami who smiles at the lunch you made him for before he headed to work. He gives you a small smile, thanking you. You smile back, shrugging and playing with the hem of your shirt, as if it was too embarrassing for him to notice it. 

OldestSon!Nanami who also drives you to your office place, making sure you went inside the office before driving to his own.

OldestSon!Nanami who got many compliments and congratulations for his marriage. He even got a couple of sad eyes from some singles. He didn’t know why. Were they sad he got married before them? (No, they were sad it wasn’t them who he got married to. Both those employees flirted with him before, but he never took the hint. Gojo and Geto knew, but they never told him.)

OldestSon!Nanami who didn’t touch the lunch you made for him, forgetting about it when Gojo practically dragged him to eat out because, “Suguru is too busy to eat with me.” 

Not only that, he didn’t even get the time to catch his breath because of how busy it got with him back in the office. When he took a shower after work, you noticed the lunchbox was heavy, opening it to only find it full and untouched. 

YoungestDaughter!Reader’s heart fell to the floor seeing the food not even halfway done. She contemplated asking him, but when he came to the kitchen with a laptop in his hand and a stoic face, her questions answered themselves. Maybe he didn’t get the time.

That day you both did not speak much with each other. Both of you had different jobs and after the week long break, there was much to catch up on for both of you

So the very next day, you make him lunch again. A different recipe with salmon and rice. You even tasted it to make sure it was good, even if you’d prefer it with chicken instead. 

Your routine of waking up together and leaving together continued for a second time. You were dropped off first and then he went about his way.

OldestSon!Nanami whose second day back was hectic, more so than the first. He didn't even get a break, let alone the chance to touch his lunchbox.

YoungestDaughter!Reader’s heart, once again, shattered seeing the lunch full. The note she left inside of “Hope today is good! Take deep breaths^^” discarded all the way at the bottom. Crunched up and discarded.

OldestSon!Nanami and you spent the day in different work rooms. You in yours. Him in his. You slept in the same bed. Close, but once again faced away. Backs towards one another. 

OldestSon!Nanami didn’t say anything when he noticed you didn’t make lunch the next day, thinking you were tired, so he made it himself. You saw him do so, as you grabbed a yogurt and canned coffee. In silence, he dropped you off and went about his way to work. This continued for the week, before he asked. He asked right when you returned from work, surprisingly returning later than usual. Much later. Perhaps two hours late.

“Why did you stop making lunch?” He notices you freeze, trying to gather your thoughts. You had just gotten out of the shower, freshly wet hair and in your baggy mix-matched pajamas.

“Not that you must. You don’t. I’m a grown man. I can make it myself. I was just… I was merely curious,” he adds, hoping to put off the pressure of answering.

“Oh,” you begin, playing with the hem of your sleeve, “I thought you didn’t like it. I didn’t want to force you to eat something you didn’t like.”

“Why’d you think that?” he tilts his head, completely lost.

“You told me one time that you went out to eat and brought back a full container, so I assumed you didn’t want to eat it. But, I shouldn’t have assumed, I’m sorry.” 

“No!” he says, stepping closer to you,“I should’ve clarified. Gojo forcefully took me out to eat. I also… completely forgot you packed me something. So it’s my fault, not yours.”

You look up at him, nodding, a hint of sadness in your eyes “So, you don’t mind eating what I make?”

He frowns, shaking his head and leaning down to you, “Why would I? Is anything wrong?”

You shake your head, as if you wanted to avoid talking about it. Before you can leave, he gently pulls your arm, leaning in close. He tilts his head to connect your face with his, a slight worry in his eyes.

“Hey, talk to me,” he whispers, “I don’t want you silently trapping your thoughts.”

You stall a bit more, before sheepishly chuckling. Shrugging as you answer, “No big deal, really. It’s a small thing that I guess I took too far. You don’t need to worry.” 

You attempt to leave, again, but he doesn’t let you. Stopping you in your tracks with his arm out with stern look, the same one he’d give his younger siblings with his brow raised so they spill whatever secret they had. You, being the youngest in your family, also know that look very well.

“Just… I- Whenever I made food for my family when I was younger, it was alway untouched,” you whisper, your eyes looking down at the floor instead of up at him. His heart aches as the words reach his ears.

You dryly laugh, “It is not even that serious, but I guess it still hurt. I remember making them breakfast one time and no one ate it. Yeah, I was a teenager and maybe it didn’t look good, but… I hoped at least one person would have some.” 

You looked so small, curling into yourself as you seem to be overthinking the memory. 

Your words getting quieter and quieter as you spoke, “It also seemed like they didn’t think I could make good food? I don’t know. It’s not even that serious, really. My older sisters were better at making traditional food anyway. Even when I got better, I always worried no one would like it, so I just wouldn’t make it.” 

He swallows the ball in his throat, feeling his heart crumble. That explains the hesitant stare you’d give him as he ate your food. Whenever you make something, you’d add a small ‘It’s probably not good.’

He noticed, but just assumed you were learning to cook, not that you were embarrassed of your skill. Hell, you were better at many dishes than him. He’d have your food over anything his family made.

He lets out a guilty sigh and hesitantly reaches for your hand, “You’re a good cook, so please try not to demean yourself. I understand this hesitance of yours, but I would never, ever leave your food to rot. I’ll eat everything and anything you make.”

OldestSon!Nanami who silent vows to always eat the lunch you pack him. And as always your cooking was nice. YoungestDaughter!Reader who encourages him to at least decide the menu, so she does not make him something he dislikes. Who tell Nanami that he’s never obligated to eat everything, just as much as he wants.

OldestSon!Nanami and you who have yet to go on a honeymoon or big trip because your works have you two so, so busy. 

A month and a half has passed and the only time you really spend is either sleeping in the same bed or drinking a late warm beverage together. Only on weekends do you ever really spend time, time that you two spent on talking and slowly getting to know each other. Though, Nanami noticed you still tend to avoid getting too deep about things. He wasn't much better with talking about his past either, so he understands.

OldestSon!Nanami, who during one of the weekends, takes you to yet another hang out with his friends and juniors. It was a small get-together a Gojo’s. Everyone, except for those driving, was a tad bit (or really) drunk. Nanami avoided drinking and you did not drink either. You were allergic.

OldestSon!Nanami who kept you in eye distance even when he knew everyone. Who felt so fucking jealous when Gojo and Geto leaned into your space to hear you over the music and loud juniors. Who pretended to “fix” your sleeve, his hand grazing the wedding ring to clean it. Nanami, who makes quick glaring eye contact with Gojo and Geto, before stepping away from you.

YoungestDaughter!Reader who isn’t dumb about what just happened. She can assume what just occurred, but she still has her big doubts. The little touch of her ring, in front of two other good-looking men (who are Nanami’s friends), left her a little speechless, but she brushes it off. Because what if it was just that simple a brush of her rings and no thought to it? 

OldestSon!Nanami who would get you everything and anything you need, even when you always refused to want anything. Never asking. Never relying. Always being okay with anything. Who notices that you always getting something on the cheaper side.

YoungestDaughter!Reader who grew to be on her own and not rely on others. Who has a hard time letting others do anything for her. Who feels overwhelmed every time Nanami takes her out because she really cannot get used to him paying for things. Her solution? Anything cheap. 

OldestSon!Nanami and YoungestDaughter!Reader who try to unknowingly dance around the other, trying to adjust to what the other feels comfortable with. OldestSon!Nanami and YoungestDaughter!Reader who have been sleeping facing each other for a month and a half. You take a glimpse of him before closing your eyes.. And Nanami taking one last look at your peaceful, sleeping face before succumbing to sleep.

----

Credits for the characters to Gege Akutami, but this plot and these versions of the character are of my own (maybe OOC sometimes), so please refrain from plagiarizing.

I am currently NOT posting this elsewhere, so if there are works of thse anywhere else, let me know!

Thank you for reading!

[ale-nose]

cheating with quackity? like reader has a bad bf and quackity convinces reader to be with him not the bf and reader and quackity end sleeping together??

💙~you’re so beautiful like this~💙

Quackity x fem! reader

smut

masterlist:

You and Quackity use your have a little thing with like hooking up but never getting into a relationship . After a while, since you and Quackity stopped seeing each other you catched feeling for your now shitty boyfriend Cristian. He always had something to say about Alex and you never liked it, it would go like “Why do you hang out with that stupid beanie guy?” or “stop hanging out with that youtube guy who sits around doing nothing all day”. And Cristian would never pay attention to you because it would take up his whole day cause you want so much attention. And all those countless nights sleepover with Alex, crying about how shitty Cristian treats you. Of course Alex comforted you, he always did. You eventually caught feelings especially this one night..

It was 12:38 am you and Cristian got into an argument over how he treats you like shit and never looks at you. Then seconds later, you stormed out of the apartment calling Alex with tears on your eyes. As you arrived at his front door, he immediately hugged you. As you began to look back at him, you immediately kissed him. You didn’t even know how you were feeling, mad? sad?.. “rip these clothes off of me, i want to forget everything about him”- you say. There it was your clothes on the floor. Alex carries you to his bedroom and placed you down. Your hands going all over his body taking off his shirt. As he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth you tug onto his shorts. “are you sure about this honey?”- he asks. “mhm” you mumbled. As he slides off his boxers, his dick hits his stomach with his pre-leaked cum on it. As He puts on the condom, you continue to admire him. You did missed this days and you missed Alex in general. Seconds later “are you sure you’re okay with this princesa?”- Alex asks again. “yes”- you say. He slides himself inside you thrusting into slowly but yet somehow so deeply. With every thrust, you eyes go back more further. This was so good. His moans were like music to your ears, you can listen to them for hours and hours. As he starts to speed up, your back starts to arch making your mouth open and your eyes back making you moan so loudly. “you should leave your shitty boyfriend for me instead, you’re so beautiful like this”- Alex says while whispering in your ear. You pushed your hips closer to him, making more friction between you guys. “you see baby, i can treat you better than him, he could never make you look like this right”- he whispers into your ear. He starts to kiss and leave love marks all over your neck. “Alex in about to come”- you say. “cum for me honey”- he says. As he pulls out he began to slowly go down on you by kissing your neck to your chest to your waist to your clit. He began to lick and put 2 fingers insides of you. You just loved this moment so much. He began to curve his fingers you moan so loudly, running your fingers through this hair, squeezing your thighs between him. You come again and again and again, you moaning his name so loud im pretty sure his cat started to hid. As he pulls his fingers out from inside you, he begins to take off the condom and go on top of you. He starts to kiss your neck. “Baby just leave him already, he is so shitty towards you plus we just had sex together”- Alex says while continuing to kiss my neck. As i grabbed my phone i opened up my messages 5+ from Cristian everything was resent messages from last week, his shitty apologies. “Cristian we are breaking up fuck you and your shitty ass behavior.”- you say. You of course send him a video of you coming on Alex’s dick!!. You of course ended up staying at Alex’s house for the night.

i didn’t reread this.. also request!

[drabbles-mc]

What do you tell your friends? (2/4)

Sydney Adamu x Richie Jerimovich

Written for the 2024 Five Figure Fanwork Exchange

Chapter Index

Warnings: 18+, language, implied smut, light angst/arguing, smoking, pining

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: actually unwell about the two of them. not normal at all.

Sydney hated that she noticed the lack of communication from Richie when he went to stage at Ever. It was impossible not to notice that he was missing when she was at the restaurant. With Carmy still MIA more often than not, and Natalie in and out of the place trying to get things in order and also just exist as a human being with where she was at with her pregnancy, Sydney felt like she was an island unto herself. She got glimpses of Marcus and Fak, but mostly she felt like she was doing a lot of things on her own. She knew that it was only going to be a week but it already felt like so much more than that.

More times than she would ever admit, she opened up their text thread and typed out a message. She always ended up deleting it all and shoving her phone back into her pocket instead of sending it, though. He was busy enough as it was. And so was she. It was just easier to bear it all when they were busy together, or at least busy near each other even if they were busy with different things. She was at least glad that she hadn’t gotten a distress call from him, or a bail call from the police station.

Richie was playing the conversation with Tiff on repeat in his head for the rest of the day once he went back into the restaurant. With every piece of silverware that he shined and stacked, he heard her voice. The engagement. The “I love you.” The breaks in her voice as she said it all. It ran back to back to back in a way that felt like a record player with a faulty needle.

He almost texted Tiff when he got back to his apartment that night. When he talked himself out of doing that, he thought about calling Sydney. He made it all the way to his recent calls list before he managed to be honest enough with himself to know that it would’ve been a stupid idea. He just had to make it through the rest of the week, and he could worry about it once he was done with his current tour of duty.

Even if he couldn’t see it at the time, his week at Ever ended up being a well-timed thing. As one day ticked into the next, he felt himself clawing his way back up from the rock bottom the news from Tiff had left him at. By the time he was done staging, he didn’t even know how much he wanted to go back to The Bear, back to dealing with Carmy and all the other shit. But there wasn’t any other option now. He also had to admit it to himself, that for as conflicted as he felt about it all when he walked out of Ever that day, when he walked into The Bear the following afternoon in his suit, he knew that he was as ready for it all as he’d ever been. If it didn’t work now, if he didn’t work now…he didn’t even want to think about it.

When he saw the look on Sydney’s face, he realized that he hadn’t talked to her at all since he went to stage. A week in their time felt more like a month on most other people’s time tables. An apology wasn’t necessary, but part of Richie still felt like he should be giving her one. He tried to think less about that, and more about the surprised but impressed look on her face as she continued to stare at him. Her smile was soft, small, but it still reached her eyes.

Sydney could feel the difference in the air from the last time that she’d seen him. There were a handful of things that she wanted to say to him, but all that came out was, “Your suit is—is nice.” She immediately wanted to kick herself but there was no point.

Richie took it in stride the way that he always did. “Oh, thanks.” He made a small gesture with his hands. “I wear suits now.”

Sydney nodded approvingly, her smile growing a little wider at the simple statement. It looked good on him. Whatever had happened in his week away had been something that he needed. She wanted to say something to that effect but instead the next words that came out of her mouth were, “You smell good.”

He did a double-take at that. Confusion showed through on his face for a moment the same way that embarrassment came through on hers. He could’ve easily made it awkward for the sake of it all, but he was doing better things now. If anybody deserved that from him it was her, so he said, “Thanks, yeah, apparently no one around here appreciated my sprucey, woodland scent so I had to switch it up.”

She laughed quietly. “Onto bigger and better things.”

He nodded before reaching out and gently cupping her arm with his hand. “Let’s get it, Chef.”

Sydney’s plan had been to wait for Richie to reach out to her, especially after seeing the evident shift in him. But after she spent another late night at the restaurant alone, down on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor, she knew she was going to lose the last of her shit if she didn’t reach out. She was adjusting the bag on her shoulder while also trying to unlock her phone as she went from the kitchen out into the dining area of the restaurant to leave. She was looking down when she heard the door open, and sure enough when she looked up, Richie was standing there. Still in his suit.

He motioned up towards the ceiling. “Lights were still on.”

She nodded, trying to nonchalantly put her phone away. “Yeah, uh, I was, um, I was just doing some cleaning.”

“Right.”

She cleared her throat, suddenly feeling awkward standing in front of him in a way that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. “You good?”

“Are you?”

She laughed sarcastically. “Not fair—I asked first.” She paused and waited for him to look her in the eyes. “Are you good, Richie? I, I know you’re wearing suits now but are you good…underneath that?”

He shrugged and nodded, but the nod slowly turned into a shake of his head instead. “I’m tryin’, Syd. I’m fuckin’ trying.”

She nodded. “I know you are.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she asked, “What’s going on? Something I can, you know, anything I can do?”

Richie rested his hand on the back of his neck. “Tiff’s, uh, Tiff’s engaged.”

Sydney’s eyes went wide. “Fuck.”

He laughed, and he almost meant it too. “Yeah. Fuck.”

“When, uh, when did that…?”

He shrugged. “Called me when I was staging at Carmy’s old fuckin’ stomping grounds over there.”

The explanation didn’t soothe the surprised look on her face at all. It did, though, explain part of the reason that he had been radio silent with her since he left. “Right. Got it.” Clearing her throat, she tried to box up all the different conflicting and extremely messy feelings that were rattling around in her chest. “And you’re feeling…what…about that?”

Richie looked at her, chuckling at her phrasing. “We don’t gotta talk about it.” He motioned towards her. “Your turn. The fuck’s going on with you?” The aggressive question had no malice to it anymore, not the way that it used to when he would talk to her.

She shook her head, now feeling like it wasn’t the time or the place to bring any of it up. “We don’t have to talk about it.” There was a pause that lasted a little too long for either of their liking before Sydney finally said, “I was actually going to call you. Or text.” She chuckled awkwardly. “Whatever.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Richie watched her for a few seconds longer, waiting to see if she was going to expand on that at all. When she didn’t, he simply nodded and moved back towards the door again. “Alright,” he said as he held the door open for her. “Ladies first, then.”

Syd chuckled as she walked through the door. “Thanks.”

He shut and locked it behind them. “Don’t mention it.”

They didn’t make it back to his apartment. Richie felt like he was a goddamn teenager again hooking up with someone in his car in the darkness of a parking lot the way that they were, but that feeling wasn’t enough to stop him. It was cramped and clumsy but there was something to be said about the feeling of Syd’s vice-grip wrinkling his nicely ironed dress shirt. It made the escapade feel slightly more grown-up since he was doing it in a suit, not that he said it out loud.

They were getting themselves resituated as best they could when they were done, Sydney back in the passenger seat the way that she usually was. The windows were still completely coated in fog when Richie finally got around to turning his car on. They both agreed that in the car, out in the parking lot after hours, did not qualify as hooking up at work. No one else had to know.

While he waited to be able to see out of his windshield again, Richie asked, “So are we—do you want—where, uh, where am I taking you?”

Sydney’s eyes widened, not having thought that far ahead. It was one thing when she didn’t leave his apartment after they’d hooked up. Besides, they were almost always heading to the same place the next day anyway so it didn’t make too much of a difference. This was different, though. Asking to go back to his place still would either sound like she was teeing up for a second round, which didn’t sound like the worst thing in the world anyway, but it also sounded more attached and serious than whatever they were supposed to be doing. The mess between them was minimal so far—she wanted to keep it that way.

“Um, you can just bring me back to my place, I think.”

Richie nodded, not even feeling the fact that his lips turned downward into a frown as he did. “Right.”

Syd saw the look on his face and part of her wanted to say something, try to explain away her decision. But it wasn’t really going to matter, and she knew that. Whatever damage it’d caused was already done. She was going to try and say something anyway, but before she could he put the car in drive and started to roll off the lot. All she could do was slump back in the passenger seat, holding her bag in her lap as she looked out the window that was slowly but surely clearing back up.

When he rolled to a stop outside the apartment building where her and her dad were living, it felt like the first time Richie had looked at her since he’d started driving. Sydney wished that at any point during the drive she had come up with something to say to him, but her mind was far too muddled with everything that was going on.

She slipped her arms into the sleeves of her jacket, unable to make eye contact with him as she said, “If you need, I mean I don’t know what exactly I can do, but if you need me to do—”

“Thanks, Syd,” Richie put her out of her misery, his voice quiet in a strange, distant kind of way.

She nodded, unsure of what else to do or say. “You’re welcome, I guess.” She cleared her throat. “Thanks, you know, for the ride home.”

He shrugged. “It’s fine.”

Her fingers were wrapped around the handle of the door, ready to grant her the freedom from the car that felt stuffier now than it had before when they were having sex. But rather than open the door, tuck and roll her way out of the discomfort, she brought her hand back to her lap.

“Are we good?” she asked.

“What?”

The crushing weight of embarrassment came back ten-fold. It was almost like trying to force a “What are we?” conversation only worse because at least if that had been the conversation she would know the answer to the question.

“No, nothing, I mean,” she fumbled her way through the sentence, “you’ve just been quiet and I didn’t know if I—”

“It’s not like my car is a great place for pillow-talk,” he said, a bit of an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before, “not that we really do that shit anyway.”

Her face twisted up in confusion. “Is that, I’m sorry is that something that you feel is missing with this or…?”

He sighed, head dropping back against the rest behind him. “No, I don’t, that’s not what I fuckin’ said.”

“I just asked if we’re good!”

“We’re fine!” He took a breath, making a concentrated effort to get his voice under control. “Business as usual, right?”

She couldn’t hide the frown on her face. “Right.”

He resituated his hands on the steering wheel. “We’re fine. We’re good. I’ll, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She didn’t know how much she believed it, but she wasn’t in the mood to try and drag out an argument about it. “Yeah, right. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

His car was down the block and rounding the corner before the door to the apartment building swung shut behind Sydney. All she could do was take a deep breath before heading up the stairs to try and get into her shared apartment as quietly as possible. The last thing she needed was her dad seeing her looking the way that she did and then asking what was going on. She didn’t have it in her to come up with a lie off the cuff and she had absolutely no interest in telling him the truth. She took her shoes off before unlocking the door just to be sure she was as quiet as possible.

When she got to the restaurant the next day, she had seen Richie’s car out in the parking lot. Up until now everything at work had been fine with them. The rest of the restaurant felt like it was burning down around them more often than not, but they at least had a few shreds of stability in each other. But now Sydney wasn’t so sure. She wondered if she’d driven a stake right through the last piece of consistency she felt like she had at The Bear these days.

Even from the dining area, she could hear the typical levels of ruckus coming from the back of the house. Taking a deep breath she walked back into the kitchen. She found Carmy and Tina talking about ingredients, and she gave them a brief greeting as she made her way back to the office.

She lingered silently in the doorway when she saw Natalie and Richie talking somewhat quietly as they poured over paperwork. Richie was sitting at the desk, Natalie leaning on his shoulder as she gestured to the forms and numbers in front of him. The only thing that clued them into Syd’s sudden appearance in the doorway was the sound of her shoe squeaking along the floor as she leaned against the door frame.

“Syd!” Natalie looked at her with a smile.

Sydney returned the gesture, hoping it was more convincing than it felt. “Hey—how’re you feeling?”

Natalie shrugged and nodded. “Fucking pregnant and busy,” she answered with a laugh. She stepped away from Richie, giving Syd a quick hug as she excused herself from the office.

The two of them lingered there in silence for a moment. Richie stayed seated at the desk, looking up at her as she stood just inside the doorway now. His expression, for once, didn’t give much of anything away. Sydney didn’t know if she found that to be reassuring or terrifying.

She took a few small steps over so that she was standing beside the desk, sort of in front of him, sort of next to him. She crossed her arms over herself as she leaned back. She was half-perched on the edge of the desk as she looked down at Richie. He didn’t break his gaze, not able to divert his attention from those big brown eyes of hers that were full of so many questions all fighting to be the one that made it past her lips. Letting one of his hands drop so that it was resting on top of the desk, he leaned back in the chair and turned to face her more directly.

“Hi,” Syd finally said.

“Morning, Chef.”

She managed a weak smile. “All good?”

She said it with enough levity that, if Richie wanted to, he could pretend that it was just a question about work. She said it so that anyone who heard her asking it as they walked by the office would think that it was just a casual question about the state of the restaurant, about all the things everyone had been contending with lately. The only people who knew it meant all of that and then so much more were Sydney, who could feel the knot in her gut, and Richie, who would see the borderline desperation in her eyes.

He didn’t know what the realest answer to that question was, but the longer he stared at her the more he came to realize that there was only one answer that he was ever going to give her. Tapping his pen against the top of the desk, he said, “All good.”

Her relief was visible. Her shoulders dropped, and she stopped twisting her hands in her lap. “Good. Alright then.”

He nodded. “Alrighty then.” He diverted some of his attention to the paperwork he’d been looking at with Natalie. None of it was new but the sword was hanging lower and lower over their heads with each passing day. “Friends and family is fuckin’, fuckin’ soon.”

Sydney groaned and dropped her face into her hands. “Don’t remind me.”

“What the fuck are we—”

“I’m working the rest of it out with Carmy and Tina.”

“Today?”

She lifted her face from her palms. “Soon.”

“Both of them?” Richie asked, the question partially genuine but also goading.

Sydney felt her annoyance creeping back in but she also couldn’t deny that there was a sense of normalcy to the interaction that she had desperately been wanting. She nodded as she stood up from the desk. “Hopefully.”

Richie chuckled quietly ass he made her way towards the door. “Good luck, Chef.”

She stopped in the doorway and turned around to look at him again. She let herself feel at ease enough to smile. She studied his face for a moment, watching the way he ran his hand through his beard. She also couldn’t help but to notice in the process of that, that he was still wearing his wedding band. Surely that wasn’t something that was going to go on the rotation of thoughts that made up her mental carousel.

“You too, Chef.”

As she walked out of the room she told herself, a few times over in rapid succession, that the two of them were fine and they’d continue to be fine. They had to be. It was half genuine reassurance, half mantra at this point. For the last couple of months she had been telling herself some version of that—this just happened to be the first time she was telling herself that after the two of them had hit some turbulence. As she thought that, she couldn’t help but to think how far the pendulum had swung in the other direction from when she’d first shown up at The Beef. Back then she never would’ve thought that Richie would be the person that she was turning to for stability. She just hoped that it held, because if the knot in her stomach told her anything, it was that she needed to gear up for some rough times ahead.

She thought that she had been ready for whatever that was going to end up meaning. Then the universe pushed her to what was seemingly the absolute limit of what rough times could be. The highs and lows that made up the days and nights leading up to Friends and Family, and then the clusterfuck of Friends and Family itself had put more than just Sydney through the wringer. It took Richie and Carmy and Natalie and everyone else right down into it along with her.

It’d been exhausting and draining and it left her wondering if she could even do this the way that she thought she’d be able to. It left her wondering if she even wanted to anymore. She’d stood out back behind the restaurant puking her guts out wondering if it was going to feel like this every night for the rest of forever, wondering if the relief of having survived it was worth the turmoil of going through it. Hands braced on her legs, on the fence to keep her at least halfway upright, she felt herself teetering on the edge of an absolute and unstoppable spiral.

Then she thought a little harder about specific parts of the night, the parts that had gone right. She pushed the broken freezer and Carmy’s tantrum from her mind, tried her hardest to forget about the fact that Marcus had to fire one of their cooks for doing crack out in the back alley that she was currently standing in. Instead she tried to think about the way that the rest of them had rallied. Tina stepped up to the plate. Marcus doubled down. Richie took the reins when they were on the brink of completely falling apart.

She thought harder about that, about how well she and Richie had worked together. Things that there hadn’t been time to think about in the moment—his hand on her shoulder, grazing against her back. The way he held her gaze, the way that the two of them were able to say so much to each other while only saying half of those things out loud. That was good. That was the type of good that could keep someone from cascading over the edge into a complete mental breakdown.

Once she had said her piece to Carmy, she knew that she needed to leave before she lost what little was still left of her sanity. She collected up all of her things, not commenting on the way that Carmy headed to the back alley for a smoke and to make a phone call. She didn’t ask who he was going to call, she just hoped that he was going to make the right choice.

As she made her way down the sidewalk to go to the station, she walked past The Bear’s lot where she saw Richie’s car still parked. It wasn’t on, no lights and nothing coming out of the exhaust, but she thanks to the lampposts around she could still see his silhouette in the driver’s seat. Figuring that the worst he could do was tell her to fuck off, she started to walk over. Normally this would be the time that she felt like she had so many things to say to him, but her brain was so fried and overwhelmed and tired that she didn’t have a single coherent thought to spare.

He must’ve seen her, because he opened the car door and stepped out as she appeared in front of the hood. The exhaustion in his eyes was different than hers, but just as palpable. “We fuckin’ did it.” It wasn’t what he really wanted to say, but it was all he could manage without dissolving into a tirade. It wasn’t a lie, at least.

She nodded, wanting to respond but afraid that she was going to puke again if she did. Clearing her throat, she spoke carefully as she said, “Yeah, we did it.” She took a deep breath, feeling a little better about her odds of not throwing up mid-conversation with him as she watched him light a cigarette. “Are you, uh…” she trailed off, looking over at the restaurant and knowing that the answer to the question she was about to ask was a pretty obvious one, “all of that…”

He shook his head. “I can’t fuckin’ deal with that shit right now.”

She knew the feeling. Walking so that she was standing next to him, she said, “I get that.”

“You outta here?”

She exhaled low and slow. “Yeah, I’ve been throwing up like, a lot, so I should probably just go home.”

He didn’t mean to laugh at that but he did. “Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Need a ride?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m good, I think. I don’t wanna throw up all over your car.”

“You can roll the window down. Crank that handle real fuckin’ fast.”

She rolled her eyes. “Your windows aren’t hand-cranks, Richie.”

He chuckled as he flicked the butt of his cigarette away. “Then you can definitely roll it down in time.”

Richie had to admit even if only to himself that he was glad to have a distraction and a reason to pry himself away from the restaurant. He reached, resting his hand on her back between her shoulder blades. His palm was there for a few seconds before he pulled it away quickly.

“Shit, sorry, don’t wanna make you—”

“I’m not gonna get sick from you touching me, you know.” She laughed. “Think it would’ve been a problem before now.”

He laughed harder at that than he thought he was going to. It wasn’t often that they were in a position to make jokes or comments like that lately, too much other chaos putting distance between them. Even before the most recent waves of turmoil, very rarely was it ever Sydney who was making remarks like that. They looked at each other for a moment longer, and Richie rested his hand against her back again, his thumb rubbing back and forth in an attempt to provide whatever comfort he could in the moment. Syd was looking down at the pavement, but Richie felt her muscles lose some of their tension at the contact, and he smiled despite the exhaustion of everything that had already happened, and everything that was bound to happen next. For now, he settled for being able to drive her home. They could deal with everything else as it came.

(divider by @saradika-graphics)

The Bear Taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added!): @garbinge @darqchilddaydreamz @withmyteeth @hausofmamadas @narcolini

@justreblogginfics @ashlingiswriting @fromirkwood @ago0112

[nekrosmos]

Nekro you have no idea what you caused in my brain with that last Poker Post. I do apologize for your notifs. 😭 But my god, the potential... Can you imagine if the life Nik tried to keep separate from Price ended up accidentally involving him too? Maybe he pissed off some dealers, maybe it's about the many people who want Nik dead or hurt. The moment Nik hears Prices name being mentioned he loses all composure. Is it hell upon earth? Does he make them regret even *considering* to plot against him? Does John know? Do they have a conversation about honesty and trust, or is John blissfully unaware as his partner goes on a hunting spree? WHO KNOWS!!! It's all so delicious either way. 😌 I think Price would have *some* idea. Just, not to full extent. That poker match does show him the realities his bf deals with though, and that reminder is enough to get him hot and bothered. JFC. I need to take a breather

also feel free to ignore this if you planned on continuing that haha i wouldn't wanna spoil or ruin anything. just here to vomit my thoughts abt nik, apologies 🙂‍↕️🙏

Never apologize for sharing your thoughts Oliv, they are highly valued !!

And for real, there's a lot to think about here. (Poker post in question)

I like the idea that Nikolai is absolutely terrified of his life impacting John in a negative way. He's scared that someone, someday, will be bold enough to try to get to John to get to Nik. It would be a terrible idea, considering how dangerous Price is as well, but it is still a risk.

Nik is also scared that Price aligning himself with someone like him, with his background, with his connections and just general shadiness, will impact John's career eventually. It's one thing to have someone like Nik as a friend, it's something else to be sleeping with him and eventually share a life with him. Maybe some hire-ups already said something about them, threatening John. Of course, Price wouldn't let this shit fly, and he probably wouldn't say anything to Nik either, he doesn't want him to worry, but Nikolai always knows, eventually. John had to reassure him a lot that day, because Nik would absolutely sacrifice his relationship with John to save him, even though John is his reason to live, and Nik means everything to John.

And then, there's your idea that Nikolai would go on a hunting spree after some people threaten or hurt John. You do not fuck with Nikolai, or the man his heart belongs to, and live to tell the tale. He would hunt them, he would get them, and he would finish them, sending a message to anyone who dares to think about attempting the same thing again. Price finds Nik on his doorstep two months later, exhausted, heavy bags under his eyes, and John asks him where he was, says he was worried sick about him. Nikolai smiles softly and simply answers "I was making sure you would be safe, John."

There would definitely be a talk about trust and honesty, because both of them would put themselves in danger to protect the other, and that is just not a productive way to go about things. They're from different worlds, and if things had turn out just a little differently, they could have been from different sides. This thought never leave their brains, and every single time they embrace, Nik and John are grateful that life turned out the way it did.

[jillvalentine]

re: my relationship with my abuser, currently @/gwendaria (part one?)

[edit: new usernames + accounts since this post has been made: scarymovies, walkingdeads, samcarpenters, the-mummy]

My abusive ex has unfortunately been going full-on with the latest DARVO / smear campaign, and this time it seems to have reached a few people. These callouts are made-up, and they've been popping up continuously in different forms since early 2021 in an attempt to silence or smear me, regardless of their inconsistencies. One second I'm an emotionally abusive gaslighter who they've finally been freed from. The next, I'm someone they don't even know about. The next... I'm a renown stalker. The next... I'm a random girl who got romantically obsessed with them and turned into a terf when I got rejected. The neeeext... I'm a terf stalker racist? Okay! I don't even know anymore. There's definitely more.

I mostly want to focus on the facts. The facts are that I've shared about my experiences enough that I shouldn't have to entertain stupid shit anymore. There will always be the next narrative, more scandalous than the last. Going forward, I just want to make the evidence more accessible so that anyone can find it.

I still have all of our texts, discord logs, whatsapp logs, voicemails, facebook messages, hundreds of screenshots from me and from others (onlookers & other people who have been harmed), and I've become friends with people who have also been friends with or intimate with this person and came out from the other side (some are public and others aren't, because, hey! Look what happened to me after I came out. I have been stalked almost on the hourly for about 4 years now, and I know it won't stop, because I know exactly who my abuser is.)

About 3 years have passed now, so a lot of the 'big' conversations or screenshots I shared earlier on when I spoke out about what had happened to me have been buried in time. (but they are, still there.)

Screenshots where they ragged on and on about my friends, about me being naïve and that I'd know better when I was "a real adult" like them, telling me to drop dead, telling me about slitting their wrists, telling me that someone was messaging them about 'cumming on my face' after I posted (1) selfie. Blocking me everywhere for a bit over that selfie. Unblocking me. Yelling at me. Blocking and unblocking me again because I said something about how they were being awful to me. Rinse and repeat with the next insane shit.

This was during covid lockdown, and it was 24/7. I couldn't fucking breathe. I got questioned about going to the supermarket with my mom. I got mindfucked for not explicitly saying I was back home when I said I was getting the mail, under the guise of caring so much about me, of course.

One time, I sent a snap of these leggings I liked online. Because the photo sent as a file instead of a normal-full-screen-just-taken snap, it became a whole argument of "Did you share this with anyone else?" and I would be like... what would be wrong if I did? Why is it wrong for me to send a photo of some leggings I think look good to a friend to get her opinion? A lot of conflict happened this way. They were incredibly controlling and suffocating, all under the claims of past trauma, undiagnosed mental illness, and most of all - flowery apologies or proclamations.

I used to think I was able to push through anything that happened because they would apologize to me, and it made it okay again. I genuinely thought they just needed someone to give them a chance to heal and get better, or get back to how they used to be early on in the relationship. I wanted to be that someone, I wanted to be strong enough to take all of it and be okay at the end. It gradually got worse, and I found myself trapped in the relationship. Anytime I was close to getting away, I would get drawn back with push-and-pull manipulation tactics. If I had pulled away to recover from their mistreatment, I was then the one apologizing for having had to pull away, and how bad that pulling away had affected them. How awful I was and how much I regretted being affected by anything. I would blame anything else (it wasn't you, it was my own anxiety) to make things calm down.

I didn't see any of this coming from the start. It was a gradual process. Near the end, I was googling things about how to fix toxic relationships (it didn't work because the relationship wasn't a two-way street, it was abusive), trying to think for 5 different people to avoid outbursts, trying to explain away how someone might gaslight and manipulate others without it being fully conscious and intended. I found out it was 100% intentional when I got out. They were telling others that I was doing to them what they were doing to me, along with a bunch of other bullshit to pre-emptively plant seeds.

Gwen frequently tries to use the worst buzz words to create stories and alienate people from one another. She doesn't care about any social issues. What she likes or dislikes is entirely based on what she needs to get out of a situation. If someone she's fixating on positively likes xyz thing, she likes it too. If someone she's fixating on negatively likes or dislikes something, she'll do the opposite. She constantly invented stories and tried to frame people I'd known for years, or anyone who dared to interact with my posts anywhere. She literally impersonated people and had accounts hacked. All she does is obsess over people. She constantly monitored me and created conflict over anything, real or made up. She especially liked to create conflict when it was late, or when I was otherwise not-fully-there, like when I was drugged following a surgery. I was so out-of-it that at that point I didn't want to fight for myself or others anymore.

Near the end of the relationship, I had a private account that I would hide on because social media, and really anything social, had become a minefield. Multiple people had witnessed the change from before the relationship, the start of it, up to the end. I deactivated my main twitter for a period of time (although I was careful enough to reactivate it once every 30 days so it wouldn't be permanently lost) and had to ignore people, stop myself from posting or liking things, and plead with people not to mention anything about me because I would have to answer for it. Multiple people remember me asking them to delete certain posts, or just be careful not to give out that I was doing anything with them. I was abnormal and an immature adult for wanting to spend a bit of time with or buy a gift for my friend on their birthday. We had an age gap, and at first, it was all "you're probably more mature than me :)" - until it turned to Real Adults Don't Spend Time With Friends, lol. Real adults are 100% focused on their partner. Real adults aren't on social media, and other thinly-veiled degradation + mindfuckery. Funny how my age became a bad thing, but they were the experienced 29-year-old who knowingly pursued the inexperienced 23-year-old.

Near the end of the relationship, I was starting to hide away to spend more time with people who treated me well, and it helped me get out. I saw that the way I felt every day wasn't normal. It reminded me of what good relationships are like and what they feel like. My friends tried their best to be supportive, but it was very difficult because my partner was trying very hard to isolate me from them through threats, aggression and manipulation. I'm incredibly lucky that they stayed by my side and told me that what was happening wasn't normal.

Getting out was hard. Staying out was hard. Even after everything that happened, following the split, I told my friends I didn't know what I would do if they tried to get me back again. SO fucking glad that's over.

[evita-shelby]

Deal

or just how Polly found out about Billy and why Eva refused to give Tommy Lucy’s whereabouts for two entire years

cw: mentions of sex, threats, abortion, Mick was the name of the irl driver of Billy Chang who delivered his notes to his ladies

Lucy Winters belongs to @mischievouslittlecreature

Vēnor taglist: @justrainandcoffee @mischievouslittlecreature @zablife @thegreatdragonfruta @hoodeddreams13 @kmc1989 @call-sign-shark

Shopping with Polly is not a good idea.

Eva has nothing against the woman, but her mission to see her back together with Tommy is exhausting.

Especially when she does it in Brilliant’s warehouse where he is in his office half-listening to his accountant and remembering all the filthy things they did two nights ago knowing Eva can hear those thoughts as if he were speaking them.

As far as everyone knows, they were at the same party. No one knows they fucked for hours while everyone partied in his honor just on the other side of the dance hall. No one knows it was her lipstick on him, that it’s her earring lost somewhere in the private table, that it was him who left those bruises on her hips as they fucked until they couldn’t anymore.

He knows she’s here; she invents any excuse to see him here and today should have had her bent over his desk fucking the daylights out of her instead of having to hear Polly suggest she should give Thomas another chance.

The witch has not heard a damn thing she’s said when the mere sight of a knickknack just like Billy has, well, had in his bedroom before they knocked it off that first day they fucked there.

“You have a man.” The Shelby matriarch notes with displeasure. She had believed Eva when the younger woman said she would tell Tommy of the baby they had conceived some seven weeks before the last time they were intimate. She had not been expecting Eva to take the necessary herbs to kill what would have been the successor for both Eva and Polly’s witch lineage and take that secret to her grave.

Even after some months seeing other men after Billy stopped trying to woo her, Elizabeth Gray had not given up on ensuring there would be no chance for Lucy to ever return to Tommy’s side.

“Yes.” Eva could lie and deny it, but sooner or later they will know and it will be easier for the Shelbys to fuck off if Polly knows first. “I have been seeing someone these past few weeks.”

Vague enough that she could remove some suspicion of the man eying her from his office in the upper floor who she’s trying so hard not to look at. She’d seen him train during one of their rendezvous, seen him wipe the floor with several men and enjoyed seeing him without his fancy shirt moving with a lethal grace like a snake would.

Then the bastard had to send her the earring she’d lost at the party or when they left and fucked in a seedy hotel after inside an envelope with one of his signature notes with Mick, his loyal servant. “Mr. Chang apologizes for not attending you personally, Miss Smith. If you have a message for him, I will gladly take it to him.”

Polly raised a dark eyebrow rather impressed at the sort of man the younger witch had gotten for herself. “Tommy won’t like this.”

I don’t like this, she means.

“What Tommy likes or doesn’t like is no longer my problem, Polly.” Eva shrugged and reminded her companion that she is not beholden to their rules anymore. She is not married; she is her own woman who could demand the return of the money ---with interest--- Tommy used from her massive dowry to build up their legal businesses if this shit continued. “I fuck who I wish, that is my god given right as a free woman, just as you do.”

She can almost hear Billy chuckle at her words, he must be enjoying this especially if the lip reader always by him is there.

“If the boys ever discover your affair with the Chinaman, this whole warehouse will be ash along with him.” A good and sensible warning that Elizabeth Gray would enforce if it meant Lucy never returns.

“Then I would take Charlie out of England and Tommy will know you were the reason he would never see his only child ever again.” She likes the woman, they are friends, but Polly forgets Eva is silent not submissive. Tommy loved her fire, her inability to admit defeat and the way she’d always find a way to win and now another man loves it as well. “Your move, Elizabeth.”

Eva has never called her by her Christian name; she has always been Polly never Elizabeth.

“This is why I always liked you, you’re not afraid to fight back. Your Chinaman better not fuck it up, Tommy barely survived you leaving him.” The older woman is taken aback by the reminder why Eva was not to be fucked with. Go low and the foreign witch will drag you to hell. A physical death meant nothing when Eva could get Tommy to kill himself but not before she gets him to turn on his aunt even now that they are divorced. “I could be persuaded to keep them away from the two of you on one condition.”

Eva knows exactly what she wants, but she won’t get it. She’s just delaying the inevitable. But it will keep Arthur and John from harassing the men she speaks to, particularly the Chinese men because the only lead they have is that the mystery man is Chinese. “You keep the boys away from Brilliant Chang and I won’t give Tommy Lucy’s whereabouts.”

They won’t ever know about this deal, besides it won’t matter anyways.