#they had white and dark blue stripes if you were wondering

[zenyattaiscute]

Yoooo had a cool dream so now you get to hear my idea

Windwaker/Phantom Hourglass au

But they can turn into mermaids when they touch the water

Linebeck's tail is obvs a bunch of dark blues with some teal spots and shiny white scales

Link is a little green guppy

[paceprompting]

An Unexpected Gift

written for ‘alone’ | wc: 999 # | steddie | rated: t | cw: no archive warnings apply | tags: pre-season four, pre-relationship, fluff, steve has a crush on eddie, eddie has no clue

@steddieholidaydrabbles

Part One Part Two

Winter break was in full force in Hawkins, complete with a post-Christmas Day bash at the Harrington residence. And after a full day or more stuck with their extended families, the student body was desperate to let loose.

Cue Eddie and his little black lunchbox.

The timing was perfect. His usual customers would have run through their stashes from before school let out, and he could even up charge a little extra when people tried to give him shit. Even then, he was still their cheapest option.

The extra cash would be worth having to convince Wayne to drop him off, still without his van. If he played his cards right, his haul from the party might be enough that he could finally take his van into the shop and stop having to share the pickup with his uncle.

So, perched on his usual armchair and nursing a watered-down rum and coke, Eddie pilfered out the goods. Only a few people noticed the lightly higher prices Eddie asked for, and even then, they wanted their weed more than they wanted to argue.

The house wasn’t decorated very extravagantly, so most everyone looked like everyone else in the dim light of the living room. A customer was a customer, and hard cash was hard cash.

He cleared his lunchbox just about halfway through the party, though he wasn’t sure just how much he’d made in profit. He made a point not to whip out the cash from the pocket inside his jacket with so many people around.

After that, Eddie didn’t exactly need to lurk around. He pulled out his backpack for the lunchbox, and the heavier coat he’d laid on the chair’s arm next to him.

One last unlucky customer sidled up to him.

“Hey, Munson,” Steve said, standing there in a trademark striped polo and dark jeans.

“Hey,” Eddie said back, settling his jacket over his front. He gave a strained smile. “Uh, I’m all out for the night. Sorry.”

Steve hadn’t always bought from Eddie, and he never seemed to mind when Eddie sold at his parties. But he rarely bought by himself, usually serving as the bank from which his friends funded their drug habits.

“No, I was actually wondering if I could ask you something.” Steve rubbed a hand at the back of his neck, unable to meet Eddie’s gaze. “Upstairs, if that’s alright? Alone?”

This was a bad idea. It was one thing for Steve to associate with him in the anonymity of the crowded mall, but there were only certain thoughts that went through people’s minds when Steve Harrington took people upstairs toward his bedroom.

And Eddie was not one of those people.

More like the opposite.

“Five minutes,” Steve promised. “I’ll even walk you out.”

“Not necessary, Harrington.” Eddie rolled his eyes and stepped past Steve, his beeline for the stairs serving as his answer to Steve.

They weaved past the drunk and/or high partygoers lining the stairs. With Eddie going first, he assumed that the strange looks he was getting was less than he if he’d been following Steve.

Who knew who had seen him go straight into the King’s bedroom.

He took a place in the center of the room, hands tucked firmly in his jacket pockets and backpack on his shoulder. Steve closed the door behind him, but he didn’t notice Eddie’s highly-raised brows, instead heading straight for his dresser.

Steve picked up a wide, white box and turned, holding it straight out toward Eddie.

“I didn’t know we were doing a gift exchange,” Eddie said.

“It’s just…something I thought you’d like.” Steve shrugged one shoulder, still holding the box. “I don’t expect, like, reciprocation or anything.”

Eddie peered at the top of the box, where a line of blue text spelled out ‘Bloomingdale’s.’ Eddie leveled his gaze at Steve, but all he got in return was seeing Steve nervously bite at his lower lip.

Eddie took the box.

He heard Steve swallow hard as Eddie worked off the fitted cardboard lid, taking it before Eddie had to ask. Letting Eddie see the garment inside in all its surprising glory.

“It’s—”

“They had one in black, like you’d said.” Steve pointed to the gift, as if Eddie couldn’t see exactly what he was holding.

It was the jacket from that day at the mall. Stiff, because it was new, but clean denim with bright silver buttons on the breast pockets and down the front. The only difference: black, instead of blue.

Eddie dragged his hand across the fabric, remembering how warm the one he’d tried on had been. The warmth that came from nicely made stuff.

“You actually remembered that?” he said.

Steve fucking shrugged again, like he just went around remembering random bits of trivia from people he should never be associating with, much less buying Christmas presents.

The worst thing? Eddie wanted to keep it.

It would be a lot harder for Steve to try and take the gift back if Eddie had it safely in his own closet. Refusing the gift meant Steve could just return it.

Was Eddie supposed to refuse it?

He knew one thing for sure.

Steve Harrington was confusing the hell out of him.

“I’m planning another party. For New Year’s,” Steve said, breaking up the silence of Eddie’s indecision. His hand still on the jacket, Eddie looked him, mouth surely hanging open. Steve pursed his mouth, seemingly unsure of his own words. “If you want to plan…to be there.”

Eddie would have been there regardless. Didn’t usually get an invite to these things.

He narrowed his eyes toward Steve, who he was sure hadn’t not looked nervous since he first walked up to Eddie in the living room.

“I’ll think about it,” he said slowly. He lifted the jacket from the box, officially accepting the gift and tossed the bottom part onto Steve’s bed. As he headed for the door, he added, “And, thank you. For the jacket.”

“Don’t mention it."

Part Four

[corroded-hellfire]

I've got this image in my head of very pregnant!AYW reader sitting outside with her feet in a kiddie pool, letting the older boys splash around and keep her cool on a hot day. Maybe a cooler full of frozen treats at her side.

I have had this one in my ask box forever because I wanted to write something I’d be happy with and I think I’m there lol. I hope it makes you happy as well 😘

Words: 1.4k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Of course. The August that you’re seven months pregnant is the hottest summer Hawkins has had in over fifty years. Of course.

Eddie could see how the heat was getting to you. Sweat would dot your forehead just moments after you’d step outside. Your ankles had swollen to almost double the size. It hadn’t escaped anyone’s notice that you were a little more irritable than usual as well. But your husband wasn’t sure what he could do to comfort you. Usually, his way of comforting you included wrapping you up in his arms but the one time he’d attempted to do that you’d given him a death glare that blazed hotter than the weather. He’d learned his lesson after that: no touching when the temperature is above a hundred degrees. 

One early Saturday afternoon, you and Luke are eating lunch while Eddie and Ryan run a few errands. Luke had wanted to go too, but ever since you started your third trimester, Eddie didn’t like the idea of leaving you by yourself. 

It’s quiet between you and your ten-year-old son when the back door bangs open, making you jump and swivel around in your seat–which was no easy task. Perspiration runs down Eddie’s forehead, Ryan’s own golden brown hair plastered to his forehead from the moisture. Patches of Ryan’s gray shirt are black and clinging to his skin from the sweat. If Eddie’s black Iron Maiden shirt weren’t so dark, you know you’d see the same thing on him. Despite how hot and sweaty they both look, they both have smiles on their faces and Eddie looks quite proud of himself.

“I f’ought oo were goin’ to da store,” you say around a mouth full of pasta salad.

“We did,” Eddie said, breaths labored.

“And we set up a surprise for you!” Ryan adds, his beaming grin stretching from ear to ear. 

“And me?” Luke asks optimistically, craning his neck to look over at his father and brother.

“Actually, kind of,” Eddie says with a shrug. “Come on.” Your husband waves the both of you over towards the back door before remembering he should help you up out of the chair–even though you’re capable of doing it yourself. 

The boys both run ahead of you as Eddie stays back with your waddling pace. It feels like no sooner than your bare foot hits the grass of the yard than sweat begins to break out along your hairline. You swear you’ll never complain about the winter being too cold again. 

“It’s small,” you hear Luke say. 

Your eyes catch on the short inflatable kiddie pool set up in the middle of the backyard, two white and blue striped lawn chairs set up beside it, and a large red cooler between them. The garden hose is hanging inside the pool, the green tube writhing like a snake as the water whooshes in to fill the empty space. 

“Cause it’s a kiddie pool, duh,” Ryan replies to his brother. 

“I thought,” Eddie starts, reaching up to rub your shoulders before catching himself, not wanting to make your discomfort worse, “you could sit out here with your feet in the nice cold water. Might help your ankles, too. And you know these two monkeys are always splashing so you’re bound to get caught in the crossfire.”

“Hey,” Luke protests, but Ryan nudges him with his elbow because they both know that their father is right. 

“And…” Eddie takes your hand and gently leads you closer to the chairs, where he opens the cooler that’s nestled between them. Inside there are different flavors of ice pops, ice cream bars, and cold drinks, all enveloped in gallons of ice that have a pleasant chill wafting off them. 

Words become trapped in your throat. Your wonderful husband did all of this for you just because he knows how the heat has been making you feel lately. And after you’ve been a pain in the ass. This would’ve made you emotional even if the hormones didn’t beat you to the punch. 

“Eddie,” you say, all other speech cut off as your bottom lip begins to wobble.

“Uh oh,” Luke whispers.

“No, could be a good thing,” Ryan mumbles back quietly. He was slightly better at understanding the emotional aspect of hormones than his little brother. 

“This is so sweet,” you say, turning to cup your husband’s face in your hands. 

“You’ve been hard at work cooking that bun in the oven,” Eddie says with a shrug. “Oven needs some cooling down though, she’s getting overheated.”

“Ahem,” you hear from behind you. Ryan moves into your peripheral vision, and you turn your head to look at him, sliding your hands down to Eddie’s shoulders as you do. The eldest brother is clearly holding something behind his back, and you scrunch up your brow as you look at him.

“Whatcha got?” you ask.

Eddie huffs out a small chuckle and presses a kiss to your temple before saying, “Ryan found something at the store he says is on every ad for the beach.”

“You bought me sand? The ocean?” you tease the boy.

Ryan rolls his eyes, another reminder that he’s a preteen now. 

“No,” he says. From behind him, Ryan brandishes a floppy hat, and he is certainly right—a woman is wearing one of those in every ad for the beach.

“Ryan, I love it!” you exclaim with a giggle. The grass crunches beneath your feet as you waddle over the few steps to the boy. He holds the straw hat out to you, a bright grin on his face at your happiness. 

“You know,” you say as you accept the hat from him, “I’d bend down so you could put it on my head but then I wouldn’t be able to stand back up.”

“Like crowning a princess!” Luke adds as Ryan laughs.

“Well,” your husband says, coming up behind you, “it’s a good thing I’m taller than Ryan then, huh? Or we could’ve just made Luke help you back up.”

Eddie plucks the hat from your grasp, the straw scratching lightly against your fingertips as he pulls it away. He steps in front of you, and you keep your head level, only raising your eyes to watch Eddie’s pale, toned arms lift to place the floppy hat on top of your head gently. 

“Your Highness,” Eddie says, bowing his head. Your giggle makes Eddie grin as he gestures towards the lawn chairs. “Your throne awaits.”

Twenty minutes later it’s as if the summer heat were merely an annoying insect that you’re only somewhat aware of. Even though the chill water of the miniature pool only goes up to midcalf, sloshes of water have hit you all the way up to your neck. The cool beads of moisture feel like heaven as they meander down your red tank top, though. The denim shorts you’re wearing will weigh a ton later since the boys’ splashing has gotten them so wet, but Eddie’s such a pro at taking your clothes off that he could use a little challenge this time. 

Luke and Ryan manage to find games to play in the small pool—after Luke’s failed attempt at Marco Polo, anyway. Toy boats glide through the water, a few of them on the grass from flying overboard. The two boys shout but they’re outside and having fun, and it’s nice to hear. 

The sound of the back door slamming shut reaches you as you tilt your head back, protected from the sun by Ryan’s thoughtful gift and the sunglasses you grabbed when you got changed. Eyes closed, you listen to footsteps in the grass as Eddie walks your way from the house. They come to a stop and you sense as he crouches down next to you. Lazily, you loll your head to the side and crack your eyes open. 

“How’re my girls?” Eddie asks, placing his right hand over the soaked red shirt covering your baby bump.

“Mmm, good,” you hum. “She’s very happy you bought strawberry shortcake bars.”

“I’m glad she liked them,” Eddie says with a chuckle. “What about you, princess? How do you feel?”

You pretend to consider his question for a moment before speaking.

“Kiss me?” 

You pucker your lips and there’s no hesitation as your husband leans in and gently presses his own against yours.

“Perfect. Now I’m perfect.”

[benedictscanvas]

coat stays on - remus lupin x reader

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: it’s just sickly sickly fluff my loves

a/n: @burnthoneydrops encouraged me to post this weeks ago and honestly i totally forgot about it but she’s wonderful and i can’t deny her!! i hope you enjoy, it’s the first i’ve written for remus so i’m a little conscious of it! i’ve also just opened up requests and you can see the characters i’ll write for here, please send in all the fluffiest fluff your hearts can think of <3

- - -

If your hand was starting to feel a little clammy in the crook of Remus’ arm, you weren’t saying anything. The streets were lined with market stalls and lots and lots of people, more importantly, and you were pretty sure if you let go of him right now you might never see him again.

“Doing alright sweetheart?” he asked, leaning his head down to your ear so you’d hear him properly because the man refused to raise his voice even a little, “Still with me?”

You squeeze him tighter to you and rest your head on his arm briefly rather than answering. The two of you had long since lost the others in the crowd, likely because you weren’t clinging to them as you did Remus. It would make you feel silly if it didn’t make you feel ten times better.

It had been Lily’s idea to venture out into the Sunday markets in town, but she clearly hadn’t thought about the timing. Just days before Valentine’s Day and it was packed, almost shoulder to shoulder as you traversed the street. But the 5pm February darkness had enveloped the cobblestones and most of the stalls had decided to illuminate their wares with pretty fairy lights on strings, wrapped around the poles. All kinds of colours. There was a helter skelter a little ways down that was lit up in warm gold.

Despite struggling with the sheer volume of people, Lily had been right that it would be something you’d enjoy.

Remus steers you towards a stall with a blue and white striped roof, filled with fudge of every flavour you can think of. He’s quiet as he stares at them all in turn, but when his eyes land on your favourite, you watch him smile and point it out to one of the sellers.

“That’s not fair,” you murmur, nudging him with a sharp elbow, but either he doesn’t hear you or he ignores you. To get your own back, you signal to the other seller and ask for Remus’ favourite in return.

“Here we are,” he says, handing you the paper bag once you’re a little away from the stall. You’re smug as you hand him one right back. He looks inside before he pouts at you and its adorable. He’s adorable.

“Thank you,” you grin and he rolls his eyes but still thanks you back. Then he points over your shoulder, where the buskers are playing, to the little tables for resting shoppers. There’s an empty one. The two of you share a brief look before you scurry over to claim it. When you sit across from him, you have to let go of his arm and it feels all wrong.

Until, of course, he shuffles his chair around the table so you’re sitting next to each other instead, facing the band.

You’re both content to nibble on your respective fudge for a while, listening to the music, but Remus breaks the comfortable quiet.

“I’m sorry we lost the others,” he says, face close to yours in a way that makes your chest ache, “I know you and Lily were looking forward to this together.”

He’s right in one way, because you were. But it was also inevitable that you’d only get half of Lily’s evening and that James would get the other, something you were thrilled about, honestly, if it meant that during that other half you got Remus.

You couldn’t quite tell him that, yet, so you settled for the next best thing.

“Sirius was in one of his moods,” you shrug, “I think we’ve come out of this one on top.”

Remus doesn’t laugh. You find it quite hard to make him laugh and you used to be conscious of it. You’ve since found that the little smile he does towards his lap is even more gratifying, like he’s holding in a belting laugh out of something that looks like fondness.

He’s doing it now, bottom lip caught by his teeth.

“Right as always,” he muses, looking back up at you, soft as ever. You struggle to keep the awe from your face.

“I am often right,” you whisper back, breaking off another chunk of fudge and popping it into your mouth, “It’s really pretty here at night. Shame about the people.”

“They’re awful, aren’t they?” Remus says, only joking a little, “Although, I’d rather you didn’t come here at night when no one’s around, hm?”

You nudge him again just because you can. He catches your elbow as if punishing you but all he does is run his hand down from your forearm to your hand to see if you’re cold.

“Mr Protective, you are. As if I’d want to come here on my own, idiot.”

“You’re cold,” he says instead, mutters it like he’s talking to himself as he squeezes both your hands in his own. You wonder if he even heard you call him an idiot like he was your favourite person on the planet.

“It’s an evening in February, lovely, of course I’m cold.”

You watch his pink-tinged cheeks to see if the blush deepens at your best name for him, but you can’t tell if it’s just from the chill in the air. He starts unbuttoning his coat, leaning forward in the chair to take it off.

“Woah, slow down there Rem,” you insist, holding your hands out to him to stop him, “I am fine. Since when do you worry about me so much?”

He doesn’t answer straight away but he does put his arm back into his coat. He’s thinking about what to say, something you’ll always let him do, but it means he’s going to answer seriously. It’s worrying when you’d just been teasing him.

“I always worry about you, I think. Absentmindedly. Wondering if you feel alright, if you’re comfortable. You haven’t looked very comfortable this evening.”

He doesn’t lie to you, ever, but you’re pretty sure that’s the most honest Remus has ever been with you. He can’t even look at you either, just staring at the floor and scuffing his shoe against the chair leg.

“Remus…”

“I don’t like you cold. And I don’t like to think of you alone. Sorry. I know you don’t need looking after like that.”

And he sounds heartbroken enough to break your heart.

“No, I don’t need looking after,” you confirm softly, because it’s true. He’s always said you’re the most independent person he knows. But you still wind your arm through his and tug him into your side, “I’d quite like it if it’s you, though, I think. If you’ll let me return the favour.”

It’s always the returning that he’s not so adept with. Your affection and your time and your energy are all things he struggles to see he deserves. It’s mostly why you worry about him too.

“Don’t take your coat off for me though,” you warn, putting your head on his shoulder, “You idiot.”

This time he definitely hears you and he must hear how utterly smitten that word is. He’s your idiot. He has to know it by now.

“Okay. Coat stays on,” he murmurs, turning to press a kiss to your crown and then place his chin there, gentle as ever, “Also, I lied. I’m very glad we lost the others, by the way. Not sorry at all.”

So maybe he did lie to you sometimes. It was a lie you didn’t mind, even if you’d pretend to.

“Yeah? Why’s that now?”

He slowly nods his head until his nose is nuzzling you instead of his chin, and you feel another feather light kiss, this one near your ear.

“Like you lots. Even more than them,” he breathes, and you try not to melt into him then and there.

“Oh lovely,” you whisper, “Like you lots too.”

[lovecrime2]

Hannibal Lecter x Reader

summary: you begin therapy with Dr. Lecter, a man who you quickly learn much from. from his intellectuality, to the darkness hidden in the furthest parts of his mind, you become enraptured with him. will he feel the same about you? therapy sessions turn into exchanging books with notes, cooking together, and seeing more of each other in ways you both never thought possible. a love story.

authors note: hello!! this fic will have multiple chapters and i’m so excited to start this! it’s also on a03. and im creating a playlist for this!!

Chapter I: Prima

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـ

“Dr. Lecter is ready to see you now, miss.” the polite receptionist says, with a smile sent your way. It’s no more than a flash of positivity before she turns back to her paper work, reflected by her thin framed glasses. As her eyes scanned over the work, turning back to frantically look over her desk, presumably searching for something, she gave off an obvious air of worry. Perhaps she was new.

You were too.

Your first day of therapy. Well, your first day of therapy with this new psychiatrist. It wasn’t something you were exactly frantically nervous about- as the poor polite receptionist was. You’d been to therapy before. You were accustomed to the shallow invasion and prodding of the mind. This time, your hope was that this new Dr. Lecter would be unique. Different.

You’d heard many good things about him. Ranging from his written work and studies, to his success with patients. And after the worsening state of your mind and the life you had built around you, you decided that it was time to try again. So far, you weren’t disappointed. The office was classy. Nice chairs were set in the waiting room, where you had sat for some time. There was tasteful art, quiet classical music in the background. Bach, you had guessed. Other than the receptionist, it had emitted an air of class and calmness.

You flashed a smile back at the receptionist, returning the politeness.

“Thank you very much,” you replied.

You weren’t sure if she heard given how diligently she was scanning her desk currently. But it was of no matter, you had been polite, it was the most you could do. You stepped up to a wooden door, unsure if you’d have to knock. Before you could, the door was opened, and Dr. Lecter was revealed to you.

He was handsome. You weren’t one to judge or weigh value off of looks, but you would give him that simple statement. Looks were not the most important thing to you, and you certainly were not meaning it in a romantic way. But he was handsome. The eyes that quickly met yours were brown, maybe with a hint of hazel. His hair was brown as well, it shone in the light from his office. He wore a navy blue plaid suit, giving him an obvious air of seriousness, of class and respect. His lips curled into a smile, and yours followed suit.

“Miss L/N, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” he spoke, his voice was rich and soothing.

“Dr. Lecter, I’ve heard many wonderful things about you and your work. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well.” you replied calmly, mirroring his niceties and charm. He had a quiet suave demeanor. As if on instinct, you both reached your hands out for a handshake. More niceties. This doctor was very formal. You appreciated that. As your hands touched you felt his eyes scan you quickly. Almost like an eagle searching a field for prey. Though, there wasn’t malice behind this look.

“Please, do come in.” he said, leading you into his large room. And what a large room it was.

It had a mostly grey color palette, with the exception of the one wall which was a dark red. To your right was a large wall, with two large red and white striped curtains. To your left, a desk, obviously a professional one. Lamps and books and art decorated the top. Further back to your left was another desk and a chair, but nothing was on this one. Behind that, a fireplace. The room was lined with cabinets and bookshelves, and art (specifically paintings) were anything but scarce. Right in front of you however, were two chairs facing each other. And there was a ladder, on the wall behind them, leading up to another level of the room. This one was lined with books of all shapes and sizes and colors. You took note of the other items in the room. Your eyes scanned from the couch against the back wall, to the couch in front of the windows. The room seemed lightly dull at first, but the more you gazed, the more points of color stood out to you.

After having visually scoured the room, you summarized that the collection of books, European furniture, and art was not simply the doing of the building’s hypothetical interior designer. By his outfit and the look of the room, Dr. Lecter was a man of intellectuality, power, curiosity, and ambition. He was impressive.

“Have a seat, Miss L/N.” he said, gesturing to the two seats in the middle of the room- each sat directly across from the other. Each had small tables next to them, but one had a book (presumably for taking notes on patients) and a box of tissues. You assumed the seat that the book and tissue box adorned table belonged to: was his. So you took the other seat, smoothing the bottom half of your clothing as you sat down. He took a seat across from you, crossing his legs and folding his hands neatly in his lap.

“I have no doubt you know why you’re here.” he said politely. He was direct, eyes still piercing into you. You were afraid to look away. You wanted to maintain the eye contact but at the same time, the socially nervous part of you longed to break it, longed to gaze around the sophisticated room instead of facing his perceptive gaze.

“Yes, Doctor.” you replied, finally working up the courage to break the mural stare and look down as you smiled at him. He returned a brief smile, and nodded once.

“So then, I hope you won’t mind if I list off the reasons you put for requesting my psychiatric assistance which led to us meeting today?” he inquired, taking his notebook from the small table next to him.

“Not at all, go ahead.” you gave him an encouraging nod and he opened his book. As he looked over a page, a realization came to you. You realized how intimate the placing of his chairs was. You mirrored him and put one leg over the other. You wondered if this was a tactic of his to create a sense of connection, equality. Interesting.

“You have emotional regulation issues, accompanied by social anxiety. Past traumas, which I’m sure are accompanied by self-image problems, am I correct?” he asked at the end of his statement.

“Yes,” you said, pausing a moment. There was some more, but this was only the first session. You hated the way it sounded so labeled when it was later out like that, so shallow. Realizing your answer might’ve seemed curt, you rushed to say more. “Yes, that’s all correct.”

He set his book down on the side table and looked at you for a moment. The thought crossed your mind that he might be waiting for you to speak, you were about to say something when he spoke at last.

“How do you feel right now, at this very particular moment, Miss L/N?” he asked you, eyes endlessly boring into you.

“I feel,” you hesitated, trying to come up with the right words. “Comfortable and welcomed. Yet nervous.”

“I’m glad you feel comfortable and welcomed, I try to provide sufficient hospitality for those in my care. Though, tell me, why do you feel nervous?” he asked.

“I’ve just met someone new. Someone who will be peering into my mind, learning the most personal parts of me. It’s an odd thought that a man I met a few minutes ago will come to know my mind so deeply.” you replied, watching Hannibal process your answer. He had a good poker face.

“Are you afraid of what I might uncover in the depths of your mind?” he asked.

“I think everyone’s a little afraid of what can be perceived in the most personal parts of their mentality. We all have only so much we express. To the eye it may seem to show enough, but there’s so much hidden where we store our deepest thoughts.” you replied. You liked the knowledgeable banter.

“Knowing those parts of you is a fundamental aspect to your treatment, as it is to any patient. I am not here to judge, or to exploit. I am here to come to know your being and attempt to help it in a way that is beneficial to your mental well-being.” he replied.

“You make a good point, Doctor.” you replied, flashing him a smile. He returned it, and opened his book.

“Well then, shall we begin?” he asked, his eyes still focused on yours.

“Of course.” you replied.

And so began your session with Hannibal Lecter, your new psychiatrist.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

[hansmic]

“don’t talk to me, people might think we are friends”

lee know x fem! reader

college au!

warnings: very slight cursing

I wake up to the smell of fresh air as the wind blows through my windows slightly pushing my hair to the side. The silence of my house way too loud to be normal. It was my first full morning in Korea.

I just transferred here from japan since my dad have a job offering he had to tend too here. I pretty nonchalant about it though. i didnt have any friends or people who talked to me at my old college in Tokyo. I was at the top of my classes which made people envy. But, my dad always says “new school new beginnings.” I guess i can look forward for my studies now in Korea.

“Y/N! You’re gonna be late for school. Get your ass up!” You hear your dad call out. You groan as you push yourself to get out of bed. You drag your body to the bathroom to wash up for the new day. After, you went to your closet seeing the uniform the school has given to you. It was pretty ordinary. It had a navy blue cardigan with a gold school logo sewed onto the front. A red tie with black stripes above the white shirt under it. As well as a gray pleated skirt. You left your hair out and grabbed your phone and the school bag you had.

You rush out your room say goodbye to your dad and walk out house as your eyes wince from the bright sun hitting your face. Luckily the school was walking distance from your place. You walked up to the enormous gates in front of you. Wow the school was enormous.

You roam the hallways for a couple minutes and get interrupted by boy slamming their head into you. The both of you plummet on the ground.

“What the Hell!” He shouts at you while he dusts off his clothes.

“I- im sorry.. i didnt see yo-“ you get cut off

“Save it.. watch where you’re going next time.” He rolls his eyes and walks past you.

Your face turns red of embarrassment. But why did he have to be such a jerk about it.

A boy comes up to you from behind and gives out a hand for you to grab.

“Hey.. are you ok?” You look up at him he had long black hair that went to his shoulders, glasses that were clearly too big for his face and a slight blush on his cheeks.

You nod “yes. yes im fine thank you.” You smile slightly.

He looks at you curiously “are you new here? I havent seen you here before.”

“Yes im new im from japan.”

His eyes light up “oh im from japan as well.” He says looking to start a conversation with you.

“That’s wonderful.. i would love to talk but i have to go to class see you around.” You wave.

He smiles and waves back as you past by him.

You walk into your classroom seeing there was only one seat left and it was next to that jerk who bumped into you. You rolled your eyes as you plopped yourself on that seat. He had dark brown doe eyes, dark hair that fell in front of his face, his lips slightly plump. You caught yourself staring and immediately snapped out it and paid attention on the paper that was placed in front of you.

The teacher spoke up from behind his desk. “We are gonna be doing a partner assignment i will be picking your partners.” The whole class whined and you were sure one of them because you ended up getting partnered with the guy sitting next to you. He comes up to your desk and slams his hand on it

“Guess we’re partners” he sighs. “What’s your name newbie?”

You stare into his eyes lost in your thoughts “hm? What?”

He chuckles, “is it cause I’m too handsome for you to handle.”

You scoff “what! No? I was just thinking about something.”

“Right… so… what’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

He nods slightly “Y/N….” ‘Mines better.”

You roll your eyes. “I bet it something basic.”

He scoffs and fake laughs. “You wish, it’s Minho.”

You shrug “ i guess it’s alright.”

he takes a chair and places it in front of you desk.

“So where are y-“

You cut him off “about the project..” you explain some stuff about the project for the next 20 minutes while he barely listens and just fiddles with his pencil.

“Are you even listening!” You raise your voice.

Flinches at your sudden raise of voice. “No i really dont care what you’re saying…”

“What do you mean you dont care! This is a grade!”

He shrugs “i have better stuff to be worried about”.

“Ugh you’re so conceited”.

“And you’re so nerdy.” He mocks you.

“You’re a jerk.” You get up and push past him.

He sighs “wait y/n i was joking-“he gets up to run after you but you slam the door on his face.

He immediately felt bad after. “Gosh this is what happens when i try to be funny…”

*TIME SKIP*

You guys ended up finishing the project with a good enough grade. As much as you tried to ignore Minho, he didn’t give up in trying to talk to you.

He grabbed your wrist in pulled you into an empty classroom. Your face turned bright red at the situation you were in.

“Y/N… im sorry… i didnt mean to be a jerk.”

“Yeah.. whatever.”

“Look at me! I’m serious.”

You look in his eyes, he looks sincere and his eyes have some sort of bright feeling in them. “I guess it’s fine.”

He smiles “Wanna hang out after school? I wanna get to know you more.”

You nod “sure.” This was your first time someone ever offered this or even talked to you in a new school. This was all so new. A good new.

You guys went to a nearby cafe and sat down and talked about your past and your life, and more. It was really nice talking to him.. he was a really nice person.

“So are you single..?” You were caught off guard by the question, almost choking of your water you were drinking. “What? No.”

“Yeah same never had a girl i liked at this school before.”

You nod not knowing what to say since the topic was pretty awkward. But he immediately changed the topic seeing you were uncomfortable. You guys continued. The lighthearted conversation until eventually he had to go home. You waved goodbye and walked home.

You guys grew closer as the year went on, talking to each other every day, hanging out after school. You grew a feeling for him and you thought he did too.

You were about to ask him if he wanted to hangout but he was with his friends.. you didn’t want to interrupt but you softly tapped his shoulder.

“Hey Minho want to hangout at the-“ But as soon as you were about to finish your sentences his friends started laughing. “Who does this girl think she is talking to us..” Minho looked a bit shy but suddenly he changed and said something i would’ve never expected. “Dont talk to me, people might think we’re friends.” He scoffed and laughed and joined with his friend.

You felt like you were just stabbed in the chest. As much as you guys hung out and shared your feelings and problems to each other he hits you with this.

You hold in your tears. “R-right.. i forgot. Sorry Minho.” He looked like it hurt him too but you left too fast to see his face.

2 days later he came up to you and grabbed your hand

“Hey Y/N”

You yanked your arm back. “What are you doing…?”

“Listen im sorry-“

You cut him off. “No we’re not friends remember? Dont talk to me.”

“Y/N.. look-“

“I dont want to hear it Minho!” You avoided him and walked the other direction.

It hasn’t been weeks since you talked to him it was killing you. He was the guy you always talked to for everything and he listened. You wanted to text him but you decided not to run for him.

Late at night someone knocked on my door but you were half awake since i was sleeping and you didnt really think of who could come this last at night. You opened the door to see Minho with a tear-stained face, he was crying. “Minho.. what are you doing here this late?”

“Y/N can we just talk.. I’ve missed you”

“I dont-“

“Just hear me out ok?”

You sigh and nod and let him in and you guys sit on the couch.

He grabs your hand “Y/N im sorry im so so sorry… i truly didnt mean what i said.. i- i was trying to be cool and fit it.. but i ended up hurting you.. and that was truly not my intention.”

“Why did you have to lie about me to them?”

He shakes his head “i dont know I wasn’t thinking straight i promise i will never do that again.”

“I-“

“I love you y/n! I love you…”

She freezes and looks into his eyes filled with sparkle. “You what?”

He grabs both of your hands and holds it in his. “I’ve had feelings for you all this time. The way you talk and care for me i just so amazing.. and you’re amazing.. and if you Dont like me-“

Before he could say anything else you pressed your lips on his. Passionately kissing him searching your mouth with his tounge.

You pull back “ did that answer your question”

He smiles and laughs “I love you

I love you too.

hope you guys liked this story feel free to request more :)

[honeyloulou]

After the breakup, Tommy spent a lot of time at home. Before he met Evan, he had a lot of hobbies but right now, he couldn’t tell you what they were. He spent almost all of his free time with Evan and now he was no longer with Evan, he was just home. Alone. Bored. Sad. Lonely.

He hated it.

A new coffee shop opened a short walk from him so he decided to check it out. It was nice, small and cosy. The staff were lovely. He often stopped by for his takeout coffee on his way to work and sometimes, just as a treat, a slice of lemon and white chocolate cake.

Exactly three months after the breakup, he decided to go to the coffee shop and this time, he sat in. He was feeling lonelier than ever and he just needed some company, even if that company was just strangers in a cafe that paid no attention to him. He actually quite liked it, settled in the corner in a comfy plaid chair, a soft cushion behind his back, enjoying his coffee as soft music played. When he went home around 2 hours later, it was with a small smile on his face.

It became a thing. On days he felt lonely or sad or had a bad shift, he went to the coffee shop. After a while, he started going just because he wanted to. He became friendly with the staff. They knew his name and his order and he always tipped well. He’d take a book and he’d sit in the corner in that plaid chair and just read for hours, sometimes for so long the staff had to let him know they were closing. It quickly became a new safe space for him.

He was sat there now, in his softest grey henley and dark blue hoodie. He was almost at the end of his book, another romance with a happy ending. It was a bit bittersweet, really. He never got his happy ending.

He heard the bell ring, indicating someone entering. He had no idea why he looked up, he just did. He didn’t usually, but he did this time. He almost felt drawn to whoever he walked in and he didn’t understand why.

Until he saw who it was.

There, standing at the counter was Evan, dressed in that light striped shirt and jeans, just like their second first date, when he gave Evan a second chance.

He held his breath, unable to look away. Evan was just so breathtakingly beautiful. He watched as he chatted to the owner. Watched as he made a joke about something and earned a polite laugh. Watched as Evan turned slowly to look around the place as she turned to the coffee machine to make his drink. A mocha with a pump of hazelnut syrup. It was way too sweet for him, personally.

Their eyes locked almost immediately and Evan, Evan smiled. He smiled that smile that made his eyes sparkle. That smile that made him feel all soft and warm inside. That smile that made his heart swell. He smiled back, that soft fond smile reserved just for Evan. As Evan got his coffee and began to walk over, he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, Evan would give him a second chance.

Maybe, just maybe, he’d get his happy ending after all.

[leesolbeesol]

Worth Finding

genre: fluff, party au

pairing: mark x reader

warnings: none! this one is proofread lol

word count: 1.2k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

▸ Now Playing: Like We Just Met

The thumping of the speakers made your head hurt. The DJ was picking songs you didn’t like and there were too many sweaty people dancing too close together. You were sweaty too, and it made your itchy shirt even itchier. Your top is blue and it’s uncomfortable everywhere. Your jeans are too tight and you have to keep subtly adjusting. It was claustrophobic, really. The cacophony of the party was suffocating. Just then you found your escape, a glass door that looked like it led to sweet relief outside.

You gave a quick excuse to the friends who dragged you there before slipping between the maze of sweaty, intoxicated bodies to find the door. When you finally pulled on the heavy door to exit the big party room, you let the relief of the cool night’s wind wash over you. You could hear the faint booming of the speakers even outside. You wondered if the owners would get a noise complaint.

You heard a quiet oh, from behind you. As you turned around you saw a figure in the darkness, standing awkwardly.

His voice broke the relative silence, “Can I be here?” The implication is, I can leave if you want. You can hear the DJ’s faint calls booming in the background.

You laughed a little, “No, no. You’re fine. It’s just loud in there.”

He laughed, too, now, and it was tinged with resignation. He walked up to the fence that separates the two of you from a free-fall. He leaned against it, his silhouette outlined by the faint glow of the waxing moon. You could see the exhaustion etched into the lines of his face, mirroring yours. “Yeah, it’s overwhelming.” He agreed. When you see his face, you see he’s actually pretty cute—it makes you look away.

You nodded in agreement, feeling a relief that someone else isn’t exactly a party person. "I needed a breather. It's too crowded there." 

“I didn't even want to come tonight, but my friends dragged me along." He shrugged. You smiled sympathetically, knowing all too well the feeling of being coerced into social gatherings.

"Same here." The two of you fell into a comfortable silence. Trying to make conversation out of the silence, you started asking him questions. "What’s your name? What do you do when you're not being dragged to parties?"

“I’m Mark. I’m a dancer.” He admitted, and you were a little surprised. Dancing is hot, sometimes. 

“Shouldn’t you want to dance to the music?” You cock your head. You have a couple dancer friends, and they’re all party people. Correlation isn’t causation, you repeat your stats teacher’s mantra.

“I don’t know. Parties aren’t the right scene for my kind of dancing.” What kind of dancing does he do? You think. As you continued the conversation, you found him easy to talk to. 

Before you know it, the talk drifts towards an early exit from the party altogether. “We could leave.” You suggested, and it went from there.

He has you change into a set of spare clothes he had in his bag, seeing how you fidget in the jeans and top. His shirt is white and it’s oversized on you since he's taller than you. He gave you some shorts too, instead of your jeans. His shorts are navy with two lighter blue stripes down the side, they’re comfortable. At least, more comfortable than your jeans. Maybe it’s the light alcohol in his system, but you swear he blushes when he sees you come out of the dirty bathroom in his clothes. You were probably blushing too, wearing his clothes and all. They smell like him, how can you not blush? “Let’s get out of here.” You tell him with a smile and slip your hand into his, carrying your clothes in the other. Out of your periphery, you see people staring at you leaving with the man, but you’re beyond caring. As your hand locks with his, he’s clearly surprised, but he doesn’t resist it. In fact, he gives your hand a quick squeeze. If it was on purpose or not, you don’t know.

“I can drive.” You tell him, not giving him the option to refuse. You lead Mark by his hand out of the chaotic party scene, the distant thumping of the speakers gradually fades into the background as you step into the cool air again. As you walk together, your hand still comfortably intertwined with his, you steal glances at Mark. His features are softened by the moonlight, and you notice how his eyes crinkle when he smiles at something you say. There's a warmth in his presence that makes you feel at ease despite the unfamiliarity of the situation.

Reaching your car, you unlock the doors with a click and slide into the driver’s seat, motioning for Mark to join you. He hesitates for a moment before nodding and settling into the passenger seat beside you. 

You break the silence. "So, where to?" you ask, glancing over at him. He shrugs, a smile playing on his lips. "Anywhere," he replies.

“Say less.” You nod in agreement, starting the car and pulling out onto the quiet street. As you drive, you find yourself falling into more easy conversation with Mark, the tension and discomfort of the party fading away with each passing mile. Eventually, you find yourselves parked on a hillside overlooking the city below. The lights twinkle like stars against the darkness, and the gentle hum of the night surrounds you like a comforting blanket despite the uneven ground and dewy grass. You’re probably getting his shorts wet by just sitting there.

You and Mark sit side by side, sharing stories and laughter as the hours slip away. In the quiet intimacy of the night, a connection forms. His presence gives you a sense of belonging that you hadn't expected to have found amid a crowded party. 

The sun started emerging from the horizon. You had again drifted into silence, held together by your interlocked hands. The city below begins to stir, but it’s just you and Mark up on the hillside. Lost in thought, you find yourself stealing glances at him, taking in the way the sunlight catches in his hair and his eyes seem to hold a universe of stories. Something magnetic about him draws you in and makes you want to learn more about the person behind the easy smile.

Finally, Mark breaks the silence, his voice is soft. "You know," he begins, turning to look at you, "I'm really happy we met tonight."

You meet his gaze, feeling warmth in your chest at his words. "Me too," you reply, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Immediately, you think of the perfect simile; it’s like you’ve known him forever.

“Can I… kiss you?” He suddenly asks. You’re caught off guard, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been staring at his lips—maybe he got the cue. You nod and suppress a smile. As you lean in you see his eyes flicker shut and he reaches up to put an arm around you. And then, finally, your lips meet his in a soft, gentle kiss. Your lips fit together like a puzzle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ramble: GUYS I FIGURED OUT HOW TO PUT THE PICTURES TOGETHER IVE BEEN PUTTING THEM TOGETHER IN SLIDES AND SCREENSHOTTING THATS WHY THEY WERE SO BLURRY

[7s3ven]

SANTA, TELL ME. draco malfoy

( master list )

IN WHICH… Draco Malfoy no longer enjoys Christmas, especially not when he has to stay at Hogwarts while all his friends are gone. But a certain bright-eyed Hufflepuff is glad to keep him company.

( draco x hufflepuff! reader )

“Santa, tell me if he really cares. ‘Cause I can’t give it all away if he won’t be here next year.”

Draco couldn’t remember when he had started to dislike Christmas. Maybe it was during his second year when he had to stay at Hogwarts for the winter and ever since then, he was required to do the same every year.

Draco mindlessly stared at the wrapped gifts his parents had sent him early. The cold Slytherin room was empty, everybody but Draco at home with their families.

The blond teenager was curled up on the soft couch, listening to the fire crackle and watching as the logs burned. Having had enough of wallowing in self pity, Draco slipped into a thick blazer and walked out of the common room.

He wandered around the halls, the sound of loud and joyful laughter catching his attention. He peeked out of the window, his nose slightly wrinkling when he saw Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. They were with two other girls that weren’t that annoying know-it-all, Hermione Granger.

Draco recognized one of them as Y/N L/N, a Hufflepuff who was unusually good at potions. The other girl was a dark-haired Ravenclaw with a stern beauty that contrasted Y/N’s soft features.

The group of four were playing in the snow, throwing it at each other and laughing when their noses turned red from the cold.

Y/N wore her yellow scarf which sorely clashed with her tight blue and white striped blouse, greyish-brown skirt, and puffy white jacket. She seemed to have fleece lined tights on because she wasn’t shivering.

Draco tore his eyes away from the happy friends and frowned. Even with his companions, they were never that carefree. But how Draco wished they could be. It must be great not having to worry about your every move and who you were friends with, who you liked, and who you were going to marry.

In a way, he envied Y/N. She was a pureblood brought up by muggle parents with no harsh expectations or demands.

On paper, she was a sacred pure but in every Slytherin’s eyes, she would always be an outcast. She was at every prestigious party in her bright and stunning yellow dresses, effortlessly sticking out like a sore thumb.

Draco released a sigh and ran a hand through his blond hair. He didn’t know what to do with Blaise and all his other friends gone. He had heard Nott was going on a trip to Paris. Wonderful.

Pansy was going to Italy.

Crabbe and Goyle were planning to visit a famous restaurant in London.

Millicent Bulstrode was going to New York.

And Matteo… the poor son of Lord Voldemort was stuck in the same orphanage his father had landed in decades ago. In the same room too.

Draco walked with no destination in mind until he ended up at the front gates of Hogwarts. He looked up, staring as the snowflakes dropped. Slowly, he stepped forward into the thick snow. He sank down into it and the cold offered a strange sense of comfort.

He had not been planning to go outside so he was wrongly dressed. Draco shivered slightly as the snow landed on his pale face. His cheeks were flushed red and his hands felt frozen. He wouldn’t be surprised if they were.

“You’re going to catch a cold.”

Draco hadn’t even noticed Y/N approaching him, her scarf in her hand. “If you plan to stay outside,” She uttered, trying to hand him the yellow clothing, “At least wear this.”

Draco looked her up and down, wondering why she was even talking to him. All he did was bully her friends, at least the ones in Gryffindor. Draco and his posse seemed to leave everybody else alone.

“You helped me last month. So I’m returning the favor.” Y/N brightly smiled and Draco felt his face heat up, much to his dismay.

Draco thought for a moment before he realized what Y/N was talking about. It was true, he had helped her but only because that boy who was trying to flirt with Y/N was making a fool of Slytherin and he didn’t approve of making girls uncomfortable.

“Ah.” Draco murmured, staring down at the scarf. He slowly reached out to grab it. “He deserved it.”

“Matteo punched him.” Y/N piped up, reminding Draco of what had happened. Yes, Matteo had punched the idiotic boy while Draco stood on the sidelines, merely watching. “His nose started bleeding. I’m all for defending people but was that necessary?”

“He’s done it before. Matteo only wanted to teach him a lesson. Sexual harassment is no joke. That boy has tried peeking up girl’s skirts so my statement still stands. He deserved it.” Draco uttered it more firmly this time.

“Where is Matteo anyway?” Y/N looked around, trying to catch a glimpse of the brunette boy. “I thought he would’ve stayed behind.”

“I’m not sure why he went back to the orphanage.” Draco wasn’t the best at small talk, especially not with friendly people. But Y/N didn’t seem to notice as she rambled on.

She was relatively good friends with Matteo. She was one of the few who could get away with talking to him and not receiving a glare in return.

“He told me he was staying behind but maybe he didn’t want to be alone again, since he assumed you were leaving too. He kind of envies you and your family trips. He’s envious because you actually have a family.” Y/N paused, slowly covering her mouth. “Ah… I wasn’t supposed to tell you that… sorry.”

She lifted her head, locking gazes with Draco. “You’ll… keep this between us, right?” She sheepishly smiled, “I swear I don’t usually spill people’s secrets…”

Draco shrugged. “I wouldn’t be able to do much with that information anyway.” The blond hair turned around to walk away, but he realized he was still holding Y/N’s scarf. “I changed my mind. I’m going back inside. I assume you’ll be staying out here for a while so take this back. We don’t want you to freeze.”

Draco wrapped Y/N’s scarf around her neck, nodding. There was a slither of a smile on his lips before he spun around and strutted off.

“Why were you talking with Malfoy?” Harry approached Y/N as soon as Draco left.

She hummed in surprise and slightly jumped. “What? Oh. He’s not so bad. He’s actually… somewhat nice.”

Harry scoffed and rolled his emerald green eyes. “Malfoy? Nice? As if. Anyway, we’re going to walk around the pine woods. Wanna join?”

Y/N shook her head and beamed. “No. I’m good. I’m a little tired so I’ll see you inside.” Harry smiled back at her before jogging over to Ron and Anna, the Ravenclaw girl.

Y/N pushed past the large wooden doors, walking back into the warmth of the Hogwarts castle. The fire in the Great Hall crackled as Y/N entered, intent on warming her hands. But she found Draco standing in front of the Christmas tree, staring at it in wonder and awe and sadness.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Y/N snuck up behind Draco, startling him.

“Jeez! Merlin’s sake, L/N, don’t sneak up on me like that!” Draco stormed out of the Great Hall while Y/N poured and huffed.

“Hmph. What’s his problem? He was fine before.” She shook her head in annoyance as she warmed her freezing body by the fireplace. “Slytherins really are bipolar…”

Though, Y/N couldn’t help but feel sorry for Draco. She knew he was the only one in the common room because Matteo had told her everybody always went home. Pansy confirmed it.

Y/N and Pansy weren’t close but they had worked on a group project together and for along relatively well. Unbeknownst to Y/N, Pansy tried her best to hate the kind Hufflepuff but she never could.

Y/N could hear footsteps approaching the hall and assuming it was Harry, Y/N didn’t turn around. She should’ve because as soon as she caught sight of blond hair in a reflection, she knew it was Draco.

“Come to yell at me some more?” She asked, a joking tone to her question.

“You helped decorate the Great Hall, right?” Draco inquired, getting straight to the point.

“Yeah, I guess so. Why?”

“I need you to decorate the Slytherin common room.” Draco held up a pouch of money, “I’m willing to pay.”

Y/N glanced at him as he jingled the coins. She shrugged. “Nah. I’ll do it for free. Let’s go!” She linked arms with Draco and dragged him to the supply closet where the extra decorations were being been kept.

“Why do I need to help you?” Draco grumbled as Y/N shoved the boxes into his arms. She huffed.

“What? You think I could carry all this by myself? Hey,” She poked Draco’s shoulder, “There’s things even I can’t do alone. Besides, you’re strong. Use it for something helpful.”

Y/N turned away, which relieved Draco because he refused to let her see his flushed cheeks.

“Wow, it really isn’t decorated at all. That’s surprising, especially on Christmas Eve. The Hufflepuff common room is almost too shiny with all the tinsel.” Y/N looked around the Slytherin Chamber in disappointment. At least they had their Christmas tree up, though it was a very sad and bland one. She frowned. “How do you guys live like this?”

“I helped you carry the boxes. I trust you’ll be able to do the rest.” Draco dropped the boxes full of decorations and hurried off.

“Huh? Wait! You don’t expect me to do it alone! I need to socialise! I’ll die if I don’t talk to people!”

Draco slammed his dorm door shut, making Y/N sigh. “He’s only nice when Matteo is around.” She mumbled, “Does he have a crush on him or something? I wouldn’t be surprised. He keeps turning down girls, even Pansy. And she’s gorgeous.”

Y/N sorted through all the tinsel, sighing. “I suppose if I were a boy, I’d go for Pansy. Or Hermione. Maybe Luna?” She picked all the green tinsel strings, making sure to leave every single red-colored one in the box.

“Daphne Greengrass or whatever her name is would be a good choice too.” Y/N uttered as she wrapped the green tinsel around the stair rail. “Hm, who else? Ah! Cho Chang! Cedric sure is lucky to be dating her. I’m almost jealous!”

Y/N sighed as she hung ornaments on the lonely Christmas tree. “Ginny would also be on the list I guess. She’s a total badass. Why won’t Harry notice her? If I were him, I’d fall in love instantly.”

She checked fireplace, and made sure to add some more wood to the flames to keep them ignited. “Pansy, Hermione, Luna, Daphne, Cho, and Ginny. A strong lineup. What about the boys? Matteo is handsome but I only see him as a friend. Lorenzo I would get with. Cedric? Maybe. Oliver? Yes. Dating Harry or Ron would be a little weird so maybe not. Besides, I ship Hermione and Ron.”

This went on for quite some time. Y/N had made amazing progress while talking to herself. The chamber was almost unrecognisable. Draco, who was cooped up in his room, clenched his jaw. He was covering his ears, trying to ignore Y/N’s annoying rambling.

But she kept talking. Over and over again. About useless topics too. Finally, Draco had enough. He pulled open his door and was about to yell something until he heard Y/N mention his name.

“Draco? Hm… I don’t know. Am I supposed to call him Malfoy? I feel like we’re on relatively good terms. Would I date him? A solid maybe. He’s so handsome but he’s a little bipolar. If only he was a little nicer. I wouldn’t mind kissing him.”

Draco slowly lifted his head, hanging onto every word Y/N spoke. If he was a little nicer… she’d kiss him?

“I’m going out. The room looks great. Thanks, Y/N.” Draco hurriedly grabbed her hand, pressing an innocent kiss to her knuckles before he hurried off.

“Did he… just say thank you?” Y/N huffed in disbelief. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard his say that.” She looked at her hand, still able to feel the ghost of Draco’s lips against her skin.

Draco had never been a nice person from the start but he figured the way to Y/N’s heart was to get on neutral terms with Potter.

Speaking of the devil, Draco could see Harry, Ron, and Anna walking into the castle.

“Morning, Potter.” Draco uttered as he passed the trio, trying his best not to scowl. “And Weasley and, I’m sorry, I don’t know your last name but I like your black hair.”

Once Draco was out of earshot, Ron and Harry shared a disturbed look. “Was he… poisoned or something?” Ron asked, “I prefer when Malfoy’s mean! It’s scary when he’s nice.”

“Hey, guys!” Y/N jogged towards her friends, wildly waving at them. “Have you guys seen Draco?”

“Yeah. He went that way. But he was acting super weird. What did you say to him to make him greet us and tell Anna he likes her hair.” Ron scoffed, “Or did you slip a potion into his drink?”

“Huh? I didn’t say anything!” Y/N exclaimed. She paused. “Oh… well, I did say I would kiss him if he was a little nicer. But I was talking to myself.”

“Bloody hell, Y/N.” Harry uttered. “Malfoy probably fancies you.”

“What?” Y/N tilted her head to the side.

“If you think about it, it makes sense.” Anna retorted. “I mean, he’s always trying to talk to you. He doesn’t bully you and he seems to stay away from bullying your friends as well. I mean, Harry and Ron and ‘Mione excluded.”

Y/N sighed. “That doesn’t prove anything. Do you know where he went? I need to ask him about the decorations. I’m decorating the Slytherin chamber.”

“He walked outside. Probably to Hogsmeade to go on a shopping spree for himself.” Ron quietly scoffed.

“Tell me if you see him, ‘kay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Y/N walked back to the chamber, staring at the work she had done. The Slytherin common room looked much more comforting and welcoming now. She smiled proudly, placing her hands on her hips.

“Looks good, Y/N.” She happily high-fived herself. Y/N sat down on the couch, slightly slouching. She waved her wand around while mumbling a small charm, smiling as snowflakes floated around.

Hours eventually passed and Draco still hadn’t returned. Y/N had finished decorating and she had refurbished the fire as well. She was so bored she eventually found a way into Draco’s dorm and cleaned it too.

“Santa, tell me, if you’re really there. Don’t make me fall in love again if he won’t be here next year.” Y/N quietly sang, humming the beat to the muggle song. She had went to fetch Hermione’s gift, a small radio that played all kinds of songs. Y/N was enjoying it very much.

She grinned as she happily swung her legs. She stood up to check on the fire, slightly dancing.

The chorus played again, and this time Y/N sang louder.

At that time, Draco walked in. He froze, watching as Y/N surprisingly hit all the high notes in the Ariana Grande song.

Draco slowly smiled, strutting towards Y/N. He tapped her shoulder, “You’re a good singer.” He complimented her.

“Oh… thanks. What took you so long? I finished ages ago.”

“And you didn’t leave?”

“I, uh… didn’t wanna leave you alone.” Y/N sheepishly smiled. “Oh, what’s that?” She pointed at the bag in Draco’s arms. “A gift for your friend?”

“I guess you could say that… but she’s not really my friend. More like someone I owe.” Draco held out the bag, shoving it into Y/N’s hands. “For you. Merry… early Christmas.”

Draco looked away, trying to his his reddening ears.

Y/N tilted her head to the side before she opened the bag, gasping softly. “What the… Draco… this must’ve cost a fortune.” Inside was a freshly pressed Burberry blazer.

“I overheard that you were going to Paris in Winter next year and it snows there occasionally, so I bought you something to keep you warm.”

“Oh… it’s lovely, Draco.” Y/N smiled, feeling the fabric. “I love it. Thank you… so much.” She couldn’t contain her laugh of happiness.

“That’s not all.” Draco reached in, pulling out a jewelry box. “Vivienne Westwood.” He uttered, showing her the beautiful silver necklace.

Y/N gasped again. “You didn’t have to do this… you spent way too much money, Draco.”

“I wanted to do this. Consider it my thanks for decoration. It looks great. Turn around so I can put this on you.”

Y/N slowly spun around, feeling Draco’s cold hands against her neck. He gently pushed her hair aside, lingering for a moment too long. He put the necklace around her neck, carefully clasping it.

“Thank you.” Y/N grasped the pendant, smiling. “I love it. And I love the blazer too.”

Draco was still standing behind her, not wanting to move as he inhaled the smell of her sweet perfume.

“Y/N.” He whispered, “Can I…” Draco hesitated, “Can I kiss you?”

“What?” Y/N turned around in shock, staring at him with wide eyes. Draco, misunderstanding it as rejection, frowned.

“Sorry. I just blurted it out. I didn’t mean it.”

The clock in the common room loudly chimed as it reached twelve o’clock, a reminder of what day it was now. Christmas.

Y/N reached out, grabbing Draco and pulled him forward. She quickly kissed him and shyly pulled away, her cheeks flushed bright red just like Draco’s ears.

“Merry Christmas, Draco.”

[josphitia]

Portrait of a Mimic

“I don't know about this…” said a young looking woman with long brown hair tied into a ponytail. She wore light wood-colored glasses, a pink shirt emblazoned with a stylish skull, and pink-striped loose fitting bottoms.

“Oh balderdash! If you're going to be working in my office then I need a proper photo of you for your ID!” shouted a balding, bespectacled man wearing simple khakis and a dark blue sweater. While his voice was raised, it was not in a malicious way. Instead his voice sounded like a man accustomed to being talked over, and thus he developed this affectation to ensure his words were heard.

“Can't you just use your phone, like EVERYONE else, Erian? I don't see why you've dragged me to a shopping mall…” she spoke. Her voice was the opposite of the man's. His was meant to be heard above a crowd, while hers sounded as if it wanted to be hidden by one.

“I could, had I no pride. Portraits are something of a hobby of mine, and like any hobbyist I have my tastes and preferences. A portrait is a special thing. It used to be said the camera stole a piece of your soul. I actually find that notion comforting. A piece of you, in that moment, forever preserved. You may grow and change, your visage changing periodically in front of a mirror, but you will always be able to look at your portrait. The camera sees the whole you.”

She didn't know what to say… This man she had a complicated (to put it lightly) relationship with seemed to always hold new surprises for her. At times he seemed as superficial and deep as a rain puddle and at other times his authenticity was inspiring. However one thought quickly flashed before her mind as she looked down:

“Wait wait why didn't you tell me I was having my photo taken before we got here?? I could have focused on making myself more presentable! I'm just in a weekend look, I don't want to look like a schlub!”

“Nonsense, that's the point! Had I told you, you might've tried to hide the real you! No this is wonderful, you look perfect, if I may say so. When our patients walk into the lobby, I want them to see a portrait of YOU, not who you THINK people would want to see.”

“Wait, lobby!? You're going to be hanging this up??”

“Ah yes that's another reason for this excursion. Have you ever tried printing and framing a cell phone picture? No no, better to have a photo taken with genuine film! None of this digital nonsense. Anyway we're here!”

To their left was a small door, squeezed between a kitchenware store and a shop selling sports apparel. She would have completely missed it had it not been pointed directly out to her. A bell jingled as her cohort opened the door and entered.

“TEDDY!” shouted a man on a simple barstool. He was a tall man, at least a foot taller than Erian, wearing jeans and a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He was balding on the top of his head, but still sported long hair along the sides and the back that he tied tight into a ponytail. He had a gentle face and a smile that never quite seemed to dissipate. He got up to shake the man who accompanied her.

“Alphonse, it's so good to see you!” said Erian as the two men started hitting it off with the kind of small talk that seems to always accompany old friends. It was as if she was completely forgotten about, which did allow her the convenience of getting to take in the photos along his shop’s walls. Families with fake smiles, graduates beaming with pride, excited newlyweds, all the things standard you would expect to see in a photographer's business. She even saw a picture or two of Erian’s! Her eyes then drifted to a corner that actually held some appeal to her:

Photos of people along a similar journey as hers, along with those she considered friends! There was a red, unenthused dragon whose body barely fit into the frame. A white tigress with a warm smile and tired, yet wise eyes. A sapphire scaled Lamia with a smile so innocent it seemed almost childlike. An amber colored slime she once had lunch with! As she leaned in for the closest view she could take, suddenly she heard the conversation shifting to her as its focus.

“Ah, and is this young lady one of them? Someone you're helping Teddy?”

“She'll soon be my employee, actually.”

“Partner, actually” she said in a cheeky yet firm way.

“Right, yes. Apologies. She's going to be working with me in my office! Alphonse, this is Mayday. Mayday, this is Alphonse.”

The photographer looked her up and down and spoke in a warm tone, devoid of romance but brimming with affection: “My, and aren't you just a sweetheart?”

Try as she might not to, she felt her entire face burning at that comment.

“Just the standard job, then, Teddy?” he said, turning to Erian. “Yes yes, and I'll be paying for it all, tip included.” At that, your future coworker started walking out of the store.

“Well, if you're ready?” he said, gesturing her towards the back. She followed briskly, anxiety starting to build inside her at having been left alone with this man she only just met. Professional or not, meeting new people always put her on edge, not even speaking of the fears currently swelling up inside her. She had always hated having her picture taken. She never thought she looked like “herself” in photos, but maybe now would be different? After all, nowadays she felt more like herself than she ever had.

“Just sit right here, May” the man said as he pulled a curtain closed behind her.

“It's Mayday, actually, please.”

“Alright sweetheart. Mayday it is!”

She couldn't help but smile and feel a bit warm inside at the ‘sweetheart’ nickname. Whether it was something he chose specifically for her or simply a nickname for all the feminine people he worked with, she couldn't tell. But it was still a nickname she made a mental note of.

“Now then, you're gonna be working with Teddy? You look pretty normal, are you also one of them ‘therians?’” As he spoke, he clicked a small remote as a floodlight suddenly turned on to her right side. It startled her so much a third eyeball erupted out of the side of her head to give her an additional look at the could-be hazard.

“Ah. I guess that answers my question.”

“Sorry, sorry” she said quietly. She had been gaining confidence in who she was. Pride in being a mimic. But being isolated and partaking in an activity she hated, it brought back old habits. It didn't matter how nice this man seemed… She was uncomfortable, and that always affected how well she could hold her form.

“It's absolutely no worry to me, sweetheart. Why, I've been taking many photos for these new animal people like yourself a lot lately! Guess it's not too surprising, people wanting to immortalize their new forms. Especially around this time of year! Why, I had a dragon in here a month ago and I'm still patching the ceiling where her horns busted through! Now, if I may ask, what kinda animal are you? I've never seen someone just spout an eye like that before.”

“Ah.. I'm a mimic…” While she was certain she was still holding onto her humanoid form, it felt as if the entire world was growing large around her. She didn't like being the focus of conversation.

“Mimic? I don't think I've ever seen one of them before, even at the zoo. Well, it's wonderful meeting someone of your kind!” His nonchalant acceptance was comforting, if surprising. Still, she wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Anything that helped make this ordeal go by any faster and smoother.

“Now, gimme a smile?”

She began to force herself to smile when-

Whirrr-CLICK-PSH

A bright light illuminated the room and frightened the poor mimic, she instinctively closed her eyes. She closed both… all three… all six… wait

At that moment she began to open her eyes and took in a 360 degree view of the room around her. She had sprouted eyes about every inch of her body… Tears started to well up in a few of them, she must've looked ridiculous, this man would soon start screaming and kick her out and and and

“Oh, oh my. Okay. I'm sorry sweetheart I guess I should've warned you.”

All her eyes turned towards the man, still illuminating the room like a gentle sunbeam with that soft smile of his. “Now now, please don't cry! You're fine! I don't think any decent photographer has gotten the right picture on the first try! It's just you and me here and I'm not going anywhere. Let me know when you're ready for the next one.”

After a minute or two of composing herself, one by one her eyes receding into herself, she nodded. An affirmation that she was ready.

“Alright, now try to keep your eyes open this time. And…”

Whirrr-CLICK-PSH

Again a flash from the camera and try as she might, it still startled her. She didn't sprout eyes this time, however she did sprout large purple spikes in every direction.

“I think someone might be on edge” he said with a laughing tone. “I'm in no rush Mayday. Take as much time to relax yourself.”

She did as he instructed. She imagined a soft running river, gently streaming over rocks and foliage.

Whirrr-CLICK-PSH

“Ah… perhaps a bit too relaxed, then…”

She had relaxed herself into a literal purple puddle, drooping over the wooden stool. Immediately she collected herself and assumed her humanoid form.

“Alright, try focusing on me then as I take the picture?”

She nodded and started taking in every aspect of the man. His hair, his choice of clothing, his facial wrinkles, the number of moles on his left arm, his-

Whirrr-CLICK-PSH

“Well, I think you were focusing too much on me there. No offense but that's a bit unnerving.”

Sitting opposite of the man was an almost exact replica of him, if doused in a purple hue. “Sorry!” she immediately said, shaking each part of her form until they resembled her natural look.

“No worries sweetheart. I do think we were on the right track there, that was the best photo so far. Instead of me, try thinking of another. Do you have someone special in your life?”

She did. Many people, in fact. She loved, and was loved, by the most wonderful group of creatures she had ever met. People who made her feel warm inside. Animals who always made her feel accepted. Friends who were always looking out for her and protecting her and friends she protected in turn. Companions who listened. Cohorts who made her happy. Family who completed her.

“Perfect. Now, give me a nice smile”

With thoughts and images of her loved ones dancing in her mind, Mayday did as instructed.

Whirrr-CLICK-PSH

-----------------------------------------------------

“Oh this is simply perfect” said the balding man in glasses as he marveled at the frame in front of him. He started climbing a ladder, ready to hang it next to a framed photo of himself.

“I look ridiculous… why did he send you that one!? There must've been a better picture! Let me go retake it, please!” Said the feminine mimic, now adorned in more work-appropriate attire.

“Shush!” Said her coworker as he started climbing down. “I said I wanted a picture of YOU not what you think other people would want to see.”

He walked next to her and put his hand on her shoulder. “This is the happiest I've ever seen you. You must have been thinking some very pleasant thoughts. This is the perfect face to greet our patients as they walk in.”

She started looking at the wall with a small sense of pride now. “Thank you, doctor. And yes. I was thinking of some very pleasant thoughts.”

Hanging in front of the two, beside the man's own, somewhat frumpy faced photo, was her. Her eyes were closed in happiness, she held a relaxed demeanor that yet brimmed with confidence. She held a wide smile that transcended the edges of her own face, with teeth that seemed to number in the hundreds. While no actual illumination glowed from her portrait, she brightened up the entire lobby. It was the most comforting smile that anyone who entered that office had ever seen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading! This was a gift for my dear friend @scrubbinn for the holidays! GO READ THEIR OWN STORIES THEY'RE SO GOOD

There are also cameos of @ayviedoesthings , @tigergirltail , @ariathelamia , and @sandyca5tle

[dribs-and-drabbles]

This Week in The TCW

Feb 9th - Feb 15th

This week, the same top was worn in two different shows and in two different countries!

Feb 9th - Sangmin Dinneaw

We start this week with the first of two appearances of this knitted stripy polo shirt. Tor had already worn the beige version in ep 2 of Sangmin Dinneaw and this week in ep 7 he wore the blue. As I've mentioned before, the shirt also comes in a jersey fabric in cream with green and black stripes, and collectively the three versions have been worn in eleven different series now both in Thailand and Taiwan. (Also pictured, the cream version from Our Skyy 2 x The Eclipse).

Feb 12th - The Heart Killers

In the final ep of The Heart Killers, Kant wore this red fitted top which looks remarkably similar to several other colour versions from a variety of shows. There were grey versions in Enchante and Vice Versa, a cream one also in Vice Versa, a white one in Middleman's Love, and dark blue one in Bake Me Please.

Feb 14th - ThamePo

I knew this yellow shirt from Only Boo would make an appearance in ThamePo and it now means that all 5 main characters (six if you include Ice) have worn some item of shared clothing.

Feb 14th - Exclusive Love

And here comes the second appearance this week of the knitted stripy polo shirt, and this time it's the beige version in ep 1 of Exclusive Love. It's not the first time it's been used in a Taiwanese show - it was also worn in The On1y One - so I wonder if these two series share the same costume designer. (With thanks to @hughungrybear for the heads-up).

Historical Discoveries

A few weeks back, when ep 7 of ThamePo aired (Jan 24 2025), I thought Nano's yellow shirt looked familiar but concluded it was only because it looked similar to some other shirts. It wasn't until this week, when I had another look through Only Boo that I realised Moo had already worn it. I think both are yellow but the lighting in Only Boo has washed out the colour.

Tagged by request: @my-rose-tinted-glasses @benkaben @pigglepiephi If anyone else would like to be tagged to make sure you don't miss these posts then let me know.

[mykoreanlove]

if you do smut, can you please do a dom taemin story? i don't really care what the plot is, i just rarely ever see dom taem on here. if not, then a cute fluff would be alright too, i just want some taemin things~ thank you!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

You paced through your apartment, annoyed because you still haven’t figured out what to wear tonight.

It was almost eight and Taemin would be here any minute.

You grabbed a floral dress and held it in front of you as you gazed at your reflection in the mirror.

Do I want to look cute?

You shook your head and grabbed the next piece of clothing - a leather jumpsuit that even catwoman would be jealous of.

Do I want to look sexy?

You put down the clothes and sighed. You didn’t date for too long and you wanted to take it slow - you knew you had to - but Taemin made it so hard for you.

One look at his face and you were ready to jump his bones. You visited him in the studio once and had to get yourself off in the company toilet right after. He was melting your insides, he was toying with you without even realizing.

You had no idea if he felt the same for you - after all he was always acting funny and cute so you stuck to your decision: you had to take it slow.

The bell rang shortly after. You opened the door and looked into Taemin‘s shiny eyes, already melting.

„Hey y/n“, he looked you up and down, fighting his smirk. „Nice dress.“

The two of you talked for a while. Sat on your couch you flirted, laughed and shared some secrets but you still kept some distance to him.

„How do you like my shirt?“, he asked out of the blue.

His shirt? It was white with blue stripes at the sleeves. There was a red monster printed on it with some letters above.

„Hurt lover?“, you mumbled confused.

Taemin nodded and moved closer to you. He looked at you with longing, with a desire for more.

„You‘re keeping me at a distance love. I’m a hurt lover because of you.“

As the realization had hit you, you climbed on his lap and sat on him, attacking him with endless kisses.

God, finally.

You masturbated so many times to this imaginary scenario - but now it was real.

He was sitting underneath you, hard as a rock. His lips, plush and soft, on yours while his tongue was gliding softly in your mouth. You felt hot. Heat rose all through your body.

Can butterflies survive in such heat? Because you were feeling far from innocent now.

You started grinding your hips while pulling on his long, dark hair. Taemin moaned into your mouth, not breaking the kiss once. His hands discovered your body, caressing your backside firmly.

After minutes he broke the kiss and let his head fall back. Veins popped out on his neck. Only now did you realize how fast his heart was beating.

„Y/N“, he huffed out, „I am dizzy.“

You shot up alarmed, taking his head into your hands. Taemin placed his big hands on yours and smiled: „We‘ve only kissed so far and I’m already on the verge of passing out. What are you doing to me?“

Relief cursed through you - he was okay. In fact, he was more than okay and that made the butterflies in your stomach go wild again.

„I’m sorry“, you mumbled.

Confusion was plastered on his face. „What are you sorry for?“

You fumbled with his shirt.

„It’s just… I find it so hard to hold myself back when I’m around you.“

You looked down, this was embarrassing.

„Then don’t.“

You looked up at him.

„I know I seem all cutesy and stuff but I’m way more than that, y/n. I don’t want to be your friend after all. I want to be yours.“

He looked at you with big eyes, vulnerability shining through them. You wondered how he would look at you doing other stuff.

„Can I touch you?“

You gasped.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

You nodded.

Taemin kissed you again while his hands wandered over your body. He stopped at your boobs and squeezed them. Even though you were wearing clothes you could have sworn your skin was burning from his touch.

He continued exploring and stopped again, squeezing your booty now. He groaned into your mouth.

Oh god, I’m not going to survive this.

You felt your pussy clench, you needed him so bad.

His hands kept wandering, going right under the hem of your dress. He felt the heat that was radiating off you, approaching your core slowly.

You felt his index finger gliding over your thong.

Taemin‘s lips left yours. He was resting in the crook of your neck, restraining himself now.

„Can I?“

You nodded.

„Use me. Please.“

He didn’t hesitate and slid your thong to the side. You heard him suck in his breath as he collected all of your wetness. His index finger circled around your pulsating clit.

You were desperate for him. Every touch of his set you on fire. You needed more.

He knew exactly what you were thinking and proceeded to use his index finger on your entrance now. Slowly, he pushed it in and out of you. This felt good but you needed more.

„Taemin.“

He looked at you, curiosity and bewilderment in his gaze.

„Need more.“

He smirked at you while adding another finger. This was it - your head fell back as you surrendered to this moment.

Taemin watched you closely. Your boobs bouncing from breathing heavily, your eyes shut from pleasure and your whole body turning towards him, waiting to be devoured.

You felt him curve his fingers inside you and hit the right spot, quicker and more forceful each time.

Moans were escaping your lips. You had no idea he watched you this intensely, as you were too far gone.

The fire in you was taking over. You felt the heat in your core, it was washing all over you.

Taemin‘s other hand stabilized your back as you forcefully came all over him.

Fuck taking things slow.

He pulled you to him, both of your foreheads resting against each other. Your breathing normalized again, but you were too spent to talk. Taemin‘s hand came up between the two of you, his fingers glistening from your juices.

His eyes lit up even more. Seeing you like that was such a turn on but actually making you melt on his fingers? Heavenly.

He brushed your lips with his fingers, smearing all of you on your lips.

„Taste“, he commanded.

You watched him obediently as you licked your lips.

„Like it?“

You nodded, a bit ashamed but also turned on by that.

„That‘s what you get for not holding back, love.“

Hope u liked it. 💕

[luxury-nightmare]

mom says that it’s my turn on the writing

They’d been caught.

Police sirens blared outside the barn, shocking Alex out of their uneasy sleep. The lights outside painted the barn in red and blue.

Clyde barged into the barn in a panic. “Human we need to leave”

Alex grabbed their bag and sprinted out the door, only to be met with the horrifying sight of a cop car parked right outside. They froze, then started to dig through their bag for a weapon as police swarmed onto the scene. Out of the corner of their eye they saw Clyde dive onto the nearest one, ripping him to shreds with it’s claws.

Looks like they were fighting their way out of this one.

————————————————

Clyde was panicking, fueled by pure adrenaline and fierce determination as it moved onto the next cop. It could ignore the exhaustion that plagued it for a moment as it torn through the officers.

It felt a shock run up its spine. It snapped around, only for the shock to return with vengeful force, a police officer holding a taser standing behind it.

Only for a crowbar to hit him on the side of the head. Alex stood behind the cop as they went for another swing. Their eyes were full of fear, but Clyde could see a spark of white-hot fury behind them.

Alex extended a hand. The eyes were visible in their hair again, their illusion fading through the sheer stress. Clyde grabbed their hand and the two started to run. They were outnumbered, and Clyde wasn’t stupid enough to let its pride blind it to danger.

A buzzing sound rang through the air, and Clyde felt the shock a third time. It snarled, whipping around and striking the assailant with it claws. The exhaustion came back with incredible force, and Clyde stumbled back a little in dizziness.

It saw the officer sneak up behind Alex, ready to tase them down, and Clyde lashed to protect it’s friend, it’s family.

Wait, what?

And suddenly, Alex wasn’t there anymore.

Clyde had never been more thankful for its illusions acting subconsciously in its life. It turned to the officer, ripping through his chest, and turning to next one with rage in it eyes, eyes so heavy from exhaustion. It lunged, only for a sharp pain to shot through its shoulder. It turned around to see a police officer holding a gun in his shaky hands.

Clyde turned to lunge at the cop, but before it could, he pulled the trigger, and another flash of pain sent it reeling back.

And another

And another

And as it lost consciousness, it wonder if it would get to see Winfrey again soon.

————————————————

Alex hadn’t left the barn for hours, and Simon was worried. It had come back to the barn in ruins, and Alex had tried to explain what happened best they could with their broken sign language.

Clyde had been taken, using its illusions to hide them before it was carted off to the asylum. Simon was terrified, utterly confused on what to do next.

But if Simon was panicking, Alex was completely devastated. They had sat in the dark for hours, surrounded by nothing but their own illusions. Simon had taken a look inside a couple minutes ago, and the whole room was dark.

Lit up only by illusions of yellow eyes and crooked grins.

Simon heard the door creak open, causing Simon to turn around quickly, to see Alex walk out from the darkness. They had given up trying to make themself look human in any capacity, and Simon finally saw what they looked like underneath the falsehood.

Their form was dripping and unstable, crooked stripes lining their arms, ebony black claws gripping their crowbar. The bones of wings stuck out of their back, dripping with void. Their face was completely covered in shadow, crooked eyes burning with determination and rage, inhuman teeth pulled back into a snarl.

Are you coming they signed. Simon looked at them confused “what are you talking about?”

I’m going to the asylum. I’m getting everyone out, are you coming with me?

Simon looked at Alex in shock “Alex, you can’t. You’re unstable and it’s to dangerous-“

Are you coming? They signed aggressively.

Simon looked at them, at the sheer rage in their eyes, and nodded.

———————————————— Clyde woke, exhausted and in pain. It shuffled upwards, gripping its bullet wounds. The costume shifted uncomfortably against its skin. It took a couple moments to take in its surroundings.

It heard muffled voices from just outside the large steel door. Out of curiosity it moved closer to hear more clearly.

“I said I wanted 01 in prime condition, instead your men turned around and made Swiss cheese out of it!”

Rage curdled in its stomach. It knew that voice.

“I’m sorry sir, but it brushed off three tasers like it was nothing and killed at least six of my men.”

“Never mind. At least it’s here. Where it specimen 03?”

“I don’t know sir. They just disappeared”

“What do you mean they disappeared? Did you forget they could make illusions?”

“…”

“Incompetent. All of you”

All of a sudden Clyde heard a shuffling behind it. It’s tail shot upwards in fear. It was in no state to fight, and whatever was in this room with it was probably bad.

“Clyde?”

Wait

It knew those voices

It turned around-

“Winfrey?”

[lowkeyrobin]

helloo !! i was wondering if u could write anything that has finn wolfhard and reader.

- 🗡️

ooo sure! thank you for requesting 🗡!! ; I just randomly thought of this somehow so hopefully this makes any sort of sense? idrk tbh I'm just trying to write something lol ; also ty for the message you sent!! I promise I saw it haha, I just deleted it because I was flustered and upset over a million things (guys if it involves any sort of politics don't comment even if you're right bc some rando will make it ab them and call you a brainwashed moron) but thank you, I appreciate it a lot 🫶🫶🫶

FINN WOLFHARD ; thrift shop

summary ; you go to a thrift shop with Finn because why not

warnings ; language

word count ; 474

masterlist

"What are you looking for?"

You shrug, flipping through CDs among the shelves, looking for anything you'd be interested in. He nods, looking through the records section with you.

You decided to hit up a random Goodwill you found while passing through the town, wanting to see if you could find anything good. He'd found a thin jacket, colored dark blue with white stripes, with small, white lettering on the front that spelled out certified guitar guy. It was only seven dollars, so he decided it was a need over a want.

He pulls out a few records, looking at the condition of the actual vinyls and the covers to see if the money was even worth it. You continue scanning through the CDs, looking for anything that would grab your eye. After no luck with the music search, you head back to the clothing section since Finn had begged you to. They had the heat, he said.

You couldn't doubt his comment after finding a one of a kind t-shirt though. It originated probably from 2013 or something, featuring a weird picture of MGK on the front, with neon red text that was 100% written by some parasocial fangirl.

Finn holds up his phone camera, snapping a picture of you holding the shirt to your chest, posing with it. He captions it "this Goodwill has the heat" before posting it to Instagram. You quietly laugh it off, searching for anything you'd actually wear.

You end up finding some good clothes, him as well. But there were definitely some honorable mentions. Some of those included a navy blue grandma-core shirt with a drawing of a sun and moon on it, colored a weird shade of yellow. Another pictured a SpongeBob meme, which nearly killed Finn, and you'd found a similar one to that, being a jacket with printed on fabric.

"Who donated their Temu order, guys?" You laugh, holding up the weird jacket and matching fake denim pants to show Finn.

"That's insanely disgusting." He smiles, looking away to not throw up at the sight of the hideous fast fashion.

You hang the two items back up, also not wanting to look at them. You fade into the random decor section, seeing the usual donation items. You cover your mouth to hide a smile before grabbing something, turning around to show Finn.

"Finn..."

"Oh my God"

"Who's wannabe biker mom died?"

"I don't know"

You hold up a little kitchen sign, reading something about motorcycles, guns, and Donald Trump, laughing as you put it back down, using a set of pots to cover it up.

You pose next to an old grandfather clock in the back corner, pointing up at it with an Instagram worthy smile. "Stranger Things who?"

"We're leaving"

"Damnit"

"What is that...?"

"A chair shaped like a banana"

"Okay, let's go."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Whisked Away 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get a job at a bakery but your new boss only adds to your work

Character: chubby!baker!Thor

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved.

Delaney wishes you good luck as you go. Your heart is fluttery with nerves. It’s been a while since you actually had an interview. These days, most send you a link where you record yourself answering generalised questions. You never do well at those. In fact, you’d only ever had one job.  

You worked at a cafe in high school and after you went and got your culinary schooling done, you were promoted. It held you through the first few years of your twenties until Delaney got sick and you had to move to the city for her treatment. Your squirreled away savings got you the apartment and her stipend helped, but you’re running dry on credit. 

You need this. Desperately. But you can’t show that if you want it. You have to play it cool. Be a professional. 

You catch a streetcar down to the main row and check your phone. You’re well ahead of time. Good. You’ve never been to this particular place. You don’t go out much if it isn’t to the grocery store or the pharmacy. Delaney stopped wanting to go outside a while back. You try to encourage her but you can tell it only makes her feel worse. 

You follow the map directions on the app and stop before the cafe windows. They’re slightly tinted with curling golden calligraphy painted across them; Golden Crust. The facade is brown and yellow brick and there are flower boxes just below the windows. Behind the glass, loaves of bread lines a shelf, on display to tempt passerbys. 

The door is wide and thick and painted red. You push inside and pause to look around. The long counter is made of dark wood with clear glass cases on top containing dozens of colourful and sugary desserts. Behind the counter, the walls are lined with shelves; some ingredients, some with unfolded boxes, and more bread and packaged biscuits to go. It’s all finely organized. 

Lights hang above with brass shades, lending a low hue to the shop. Several customers wait in queue as two employees work tills at opposite ends of the counter. You don’t know whether you should join the wait or go ahead and let them know that you’re there to see Thor for an interview. That was his name, right? 

You look at your phone again. You have time. You wouldn’t want to be rude. You adjust your bag and stand at the end of the line. The women ahead of you marvel at the pristine mini white chocolate cakes with dark candied cherries on top as another whispers about cheesecake being devilish. Your own eyes wander gluttonously to the assortment. 

You peel away your gaze and look down at yourself. You put together the best you could; a striped blouse, navy blue on white, and a pair of straight-legged pants. They’re a bit outdated but professional at a glance. You hope no one notices the scuff on your right toe. 

You get to the front of the line and step up. The young girl behind the till asks what you’d like. You give an apologetic smile, “um, actually, I’ve got an interview.” 

“Ah, yes, another one for Thor,” she chimes, “well, you just come with me.” 

She’s young. Still a teenager. Her and the other cashier look to be barely graduated if that. 

She walks toward the end of the counter and she beckons you over, “I’m Thrud,” she pulls back the short little door for you to step through, “that’s Nari,” she gestures to the dark-haired worker at the other till. He’s too busy taking orders to notice. 

You introduce yourself as she takes you around to a doorway, “I think he’s just doing these in the kitchen. Last one ended early so...” she talks brightly as she bounds ahead of you like a happy puppy, “dad?” She calls as she enters the large kitchen. “Dad? I’ve got the next appointment.” 

Your anxiety spikes. You’re not the first or the last. The competition deflates your hopes even further. 

“Eh?” A deep grunt comes as head pops up from the other side of the large marble island. The man is so large his head hits one of the pans dangling from the ceiling rack. He rubs his brow and hisses, “sorry, I was just looking for my pen.” 

Thrud laughs as she crosses her arms. You notice the golden pen tucked behind his ear. She raises a hand, keeping her other arm folded, as she taps her temple. His brows arch and he feels around his wave locks and fishes out the pen. 

“Right,” he gives a sheepish look and wiggles it in triumph. 

“Anyhoo,” Thrud trills, “this is her.” 

“Thank you, Thrud,” he drones back. 

“Mhmm,” she turns and smiles at you again before she goes. 

“Uh,” you hesitate, unsure how to begin, “er,” you introduce yourself, once more “I have a resume on hand--” 

“No need,” he waves you off, “come, I try to keep these things straight to the point.” 

You near him and rest your hand on your bag, chewing your lip. 

“Wash your hands,” he directs you towards the sink, “you may put your things there.” He points to the empty counter on the other side of the deep metal sink. You put your bag there and scour your hands deliberately, taking your time as you scrub nails, knuckles, palms, every bit. You dry off on the towel he offers as you face him. 

“Here,” he gives you and apron, “would want you to make a mess. 

You tie on the apron as he turns and grabs a tray. There are half a dozen cookies on the sheet, some empty piping bags, nozzles, a bowl of icing and small tubes of food dye. You look between him and the cookies. 

“You may choose the design. You will decorate and I will ask questions, does that work for you?” 

“Um, sure,” you answer. It’s unexpected. “All six?” 

“All six,” he confirms and crosses his arms, making himself even broader. He is not only tall, but wide, and his apron does little to conceal his indulgence in sweets that gathers around his middle. 

“Okay,” you accept the challenge meekly. 

You step up to the marble island and take a moment. You twiddle your fingers nervously as you think. You don’t know what to do. You don’t want to go to simple. 

“Take your time, I’ll ask some questions and you can begin whenever you’re ready,” he assures, “so, you’re availability, it is flexibly? Our open ours are eight to six, but you are available on weekends?” 

“Yes,” you say as you set an idea in your head and read for the icing. You stir it with the wooden spoon, testing its consistency. “I have open availability most days.” 

“Most days?” He echoes. 

“Um, yes, I may have an appointment now and again.” 

“Oh, appointment?” 

“For my sister,” you explain, “but it wouldn’t get in the way, I'm sure.” 

You cringe. You’re already making yourself feel bad. 

“And so, you’ve had one previous role, what was included in that?” he asks. 

Only one... that can’t be good on paper. 

“I worked at a cafe. I was a barista for the first two years, then I was promoted to baker, and ended as assistant manager at the branch,” you explain as you fill one of the piping pages and fit the appropriate tip, “but I completed by culinary diploma while I was there.” 

“And after? What did you do? I see you’ve been out of work.” 

You’re quite as you lean over the cookies and start on the first one. Your idea is simple in premise but not in execution. Delaney loves to do cross-stitches, so that’s what you’ll do. First, the white grid and the lacing along the edges, then you’ll fill in the squares with all different colours to make the illusion of stitches. 

“I’ve been a caretaker to my sister,” you say quietly, “we only just moved here last year so I haven’t found much.” 

“And you would be able to work fulltime?” He asks. 

“Yes, she’s... she’s doing better now. I can do it,” you assure him as you keep your eyes on your precise lines. 

He’s quiet. You’re sweating. You just concentrate on the work. Maybe your answers aren’t the best but you hope your work is. You finish the crosshatching and look up. You find him watching your hands intently. As you pause, his blue eyes meet yours. He gives a smile. 

“Ha,” he scoffs, “my hands are too big.” He shows his thick fingers, “I can’t quiet get my lines that tight.” 

You nod and bow your head again. You’re not even done the first cookie. You have six to prove yourself. Six cookies to seal your fate. 

[tommyshelby87]

Empy shelves and promises - Chapter 1

Hi everyone! I am slowly going to post the chapters I am writing for my Peaky Blinders fic, since I'm way too excited to wait until I am completely done. When I first started this blog, I posted a snippet and asked who wanted to be on the taglist. A lot of wonderful people responded and those are the people that I'm tagging right now. Do let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist. I would love to hear your thoughts!

Title: Empy shelves and promises

Chapter 1: A union arranged. Ao3 link

Summary: Evelyn Carnahan, the daughter of Howard Carnahan is set up the marry the infamous Tommy Shelby, the leader of the Peaky Blinders. Howard is in debt with the Peaky Blinders and in payment, Tommy insist on a marriage with Evie. Can the bookish young librarian hold her own against his dark and commanding personality?

Warnings: DarkTommy, arranged marriage, loss, angst, grief, dark themes and serious subjects, will post appropriate warnings with each chapter.

“So. Evelyn. Are you any good with children?” Thomas Shelby asked in a gruff manner, his low voice rumbling as he eyed the woman across from him up and down. His blue eyes took in every little detail, as if she were prey in his grasp. “I have a son, Charlie. He's five.”

Evelyn stared back at him wide-eyed, her hands neatly folded on her long beige skirt. Her simple white striped blouse formed a strong contrast to the wealth around her, especially emphasized by the plain black scarf that decorated her neck. A small pair of black glasses was high up on her nose, but occasionally slid down, revealing her light-brown eyes. Her brown curls were done up in a practical bun, a few loose curls framing her face. All in all she looked far too sweet and conservative to even be in this well-off mansion, with the leader of the Peaky Blinders. Thomas took out a cigarette, raising a bored brow at this mousy little creature. “I don't really have a lot of experience. Besides that of my work,” Evie hesitantly stated. “And you may call me Evie for short, all my friends do,” she added, warmly. He raises a brow and chuckles some, sending her a rather arrogant gaze. “Your work? Well then, do enlighten me..Evelyn” he asked, his tone laced with venom. It was clear sign that he wasn't going to consider her a friend. He lit his cigarette and inhaled. “What do you do for work?” Evie was taken aback by his cold demeanour, even while she did her best to be pleasant. She noticed how he refused to call her 'Evie', but insisted on using her full name. But she swallowed hard and tried to explain her predicament, in a shaky voice. “I work as a librarian, you see, and I read to a group of children on Tuesdays and Thursdays,” she stated. Thomas blew a puff of smoke in her direction, staring her down intently. “You don't work as my wife.” “Well, you see, I've had this job for so long, I love doing it, so I do not wish to give it up.” “You don't work. As my wife,” he repeated, gesturing at her with the cigarette bud between his fingers. When she opened her mouth to protest again, he blew another cloud of smoke her way, smirking lightly. Evelyn gasped at the rude gesture and got up from her seat. “What did you do that for? It's disgusting. And yes, I will keep my job, thank you!” “Sit down.” Evelyn stared at him in disbelief, no idea what this rude man was ordering her around for.

- Three weeks earlier -

Evie was reading her favourite novel Treasure Island with a smile, after a day of hard work. The story filled with pirates, treasure and adventure never failed to cheer her up. As she got to her favourite part, her heart began to hurt a little. Ever since Jonathan... A knock on her door disturbed her thoughts and her reading. She placed the bookmark between the pages carefully and put it aside, before opening her door to see who was visiting her. “Father!” she said, sounding happily surprised but wary at the same time.

Howard Carnahan took off his hat and cleared his throat. “Evelyn, we need to talk,” he stated and entered her home. Evie frowned, her father only called her by her full name when he was very serious about things. “I'll put the kettle on,” she stated softly and did so. Her father cleared his throat again. “You eh...you know that I am in debt, don't you?” She nodded. How could she not know? He had been asking her and other family members for money left and right, because of his gambling and drinking. “And you know that...that..” Evie made some tea and put a mug in front of him, stepping back to her kitchen counter to sip from her own. The fact that she didn’t sit down with her father betrayed the distance between them. “Things have been hard since...since...your mother passed and...” “Yes, I know,” she said sadly. She still remembered that awful time and the events leading up to her mothers death. She shuddered as she thought of it. “I thought moving from London to Birmingham after that would solve things..that we could start anew here.” Evie nodded.

“But I miss your mother so much and..I know I've lost myself in my vices.”

A silence fell between them. A tear ran down her cheek. They had too much grief between them, it swallowed every bit of love and affection between the two and only left distance in its wake. “I've been getting myself in trouble, Evie...and you have to help me.” Howard finally admitted and Evie rose a brow, taking a gulp of her warm tea. “There is this gang of mobsters here, ruling the streets of Birmingham, as you know..” Evie nodded, having heard of them. “The Peaky Blinders, I know. You warned me to stay away from them.” Howard nodded. “The thing is, my debt is to them. I've been wasting money at the races, at their games, for their drink...and now they threaten to harm me.” “Harm you?” Evie said in disbelief as she sat down at the table across from her father. It was the closest they had been in months. “I cannot pay them off, I've not been able to find a job here. The museum here has a curator already and I havent had much luck in other positions.” Evie stayed quiet, not mentioning the fact that her fathers drinking habits were most likely what was preventing him to find and keep a job. “Do you remember we attended that fundraiser last week?” Evie nodded, she remembered. Her father still tried to pretend they were the same well-off family they once were so he attended the high society events as much as possible, as not to tarnish their reputation. “The leader of that Peaky Blinders was there as well. He was looking for me, to try and get me to pay off his debt. Apparently he saw you and...” Evie was shifting in her seat uneasy, afraid that she was in danger.

“He wants your hand. He has offered to forgive my debt and even pay me money, as long as you will marry him.”

Evie's jaw dropped and she got up, backing away from the table again. “You..you gave me to a hoodlum?!” she asked in disbelief. “Evelyn...this would solve all of our problems!” The woman scoffed. “It would solve -your- problems,” she said, shaking her head. Howard looked at her in disbelief. “Is that how you treat your father? I have put you through three studies, always working hard so you could attend university. This is how you repay me? Stop being selfish, girl! This would save me!” Evie looked away, tears welling up in her eyes. “Father I don’t want to get married, you have to understand! That is not the life for me! You're expecting me to give up all the dreams I ever had !”

Howard shook his head. “Its not about what you want anymore, Evelyn. Its about what’s good for the family. You wont turn your back on your family, now would you?” “So he saw me and decided to marry me? I don’t believe that for a single second!” “His wife passed away last year, he said. He has a son and he needs a mother for the boy. He wants to marry again so the boy will be cared for and he doesn’t have to waste time to find a wife,” her father explained. Evie rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Well, isn't that just perfectly charming. Help me, my knees are weak!” “Your life is not a book, girl! Stop living in this ridiculous stories you love so much and come back down to earth!” Howard said sternly. Evie teared up at his harsh words. All of her life everyone had always told her to stop living in her stories. But that is where she felt safe and warm, how could she turn her back on her books? “You will marry him and save your family from ruin and that is final!” She sighed, shaking her head, still not fully comprehending this while ordeal. “Fine. Fine. Let's set up a meeting. What's his name, anyway?” Howard sighed in relief, happy that she was finally coming to her senses and helping him out. Now the family wouldn't fall in ruin and he would be kept from harm from the gang. “Thomas Shelby. I'll let him know you said yes.”

- Present day -

“I said, sit down,” Thomas ordered her again, gesturing at the chair behind her. “And think of how it would look if my own wife had to work? I earn enough for the both of us, all I want for you is to form a family with me, for my boy Charlie. Give me heirs in time, of course.” Evie guffawed as she paced around, ignoring Tommy's order to sit down and instead pacing around the room. “Oh is that all, just a couple of heirs?” she asked, as he was asking her to pick up some flowers at the shop. “What is the problem?” he asked gruffly, frowning at her constant need to go against him. “I made my terms clear to your father when I bought you.” Evie stared at him, anger in her eyes. “Do not say that.” Thomas smirked, taking another drag from his cigarette before blowing the smoke in her direction once more. “I did buy you, didn't I? And yes, you will give me heirs. I need my legacy to live on, to keep my family safe. You will be part of that family and so you will be cared for and protected for the rest of your life. I fail to see why you are making a fuss. Sit down, do not make me repeat myself again.”

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face as Evie sat down again with a dejected look on her face. “Blow smoke at me one more time and I will feed you that cigarette,” she muttered with a huff.

Thomas smirked and put his cigarette out in the ashtray on the desk. “What is the problem anyway? Don’t all lasses want to marry and reproduce? What's so special about you?” “I am not a lass that wants to marry and reproduce, thank you very much,” she said haughtily. “My mother and father put a great deal of effort into my education and I've always valued it above all else.” Tommy scoffed. “I guess that was smart of them, giving you opportunities. Tell me about yourself, Evelyn,” he stated, a little softer than before. “What are you educated in?” “I studied history, literature and Egyptology. My parents have always been fascinated by it and it rubbed off on me. I even assisted at a excavation a few years ago, in Egypt.” He rose a brow. “A excavation in Egypt. Now that is something you don't hear every day. Aye, I get why marital bliss would seem dull compared to that. Did you find anything interesting?” She shrugged. “A few artifacts here and there, they are on display at the London museum of history.” “I see. And why is an educated woman like yourself doing working a boring library job?” Evie frowned. “I am very proud of what I am, mister Shelby. I was supposed to become curator once my father retired. You see, he was the curator at the London museum. But the death of my mother made him decide to move here instead. Also to cover up the financial trouble we were in. There is just one museum here and they have a curator, so neither of us was able to land that job. There's not much opportunity for me here, so I applied at the library. I do love it, its very rewarding. I started a program for the poor children, they come in twice a week for story hour. Since I love to read so much, I read to them. I have a vast book collection myself.” “Of course you do,” Tommy said, slightly mocking but also a little moved that she seemed to have a soft spot for the poor. “And I suppose you are bringing that here, after our joyous day?”

He made it sound as if they were to attend a funeral together instead. “I'd like that, yes. I love my books. Do you read, mister Shelby?” Thomas let out a bitter chuckle. “I do not have time for silly stories. What would they possibly bring me?” Evie eyed him confused. “Stories bring us a great deal, mister Shelby. With your permission I was planning on reading to your boy as well.” “Reading to him, hmm? Like what? Little Red Riding hood?” “Treasure Island, for starters.” “Treasure Island? A story of thugs, thieves and crime?” He asked as he took a sip from his whiskey. “Its a wonderful story of adventure, of belonging and overcoming all obstacles to achieve what you want!” Evie orated and Thomas flashed a crooked smile at how passionate she got when she spoke of this story in particular. “It's your favourite.” She smiled a little. “Yes, I guess it is.” “It’s unseemly, for a woman to enjoy such tales of woe,” he stated gruffly, his face suddenly falling. Evie was taken aback. “But..mister Shelby...I heard that you were all about equal treatment. How could you be for equal treatment, but also think its unseemly for a woman to read?” she asked softly, a hint of sadness in her voice. “And all that business of me not working..” “You heard wrong. A woman’s place is in the kitchen.” “You have a cook,” Evie dryly replied. “Do not defy me, woman! You will give up your work and you will give up these silly stories! I will lock your books away in the attic and that will be that!” he growled, his steely blue eyes boring themselves into hers with fierce intensity. Evie's eyes grew sad, disbelief and anguish in her eyes. “Do not give me that look, you will achieve nothing with it. Now, I expect you to move into Arrow House tomorrow.” Thomas continued sternly, downing almost all of his whiskey at once. She glowered at him, torn between mouthing off to him and doing as he said. She sighed deeply and shook her head. “I understand that you are going through a very difficult time, with your wife passing and...” she started to say. “You do not speak of her. Ever. Not to me and not to Charlie, do you understand?” he asked in a low, threatening voice. “You dont speak to your boy at all? About his mother?” she asked with a frown.

“I said you do not speak of her!” he said, slamming his hand on his desk, causing her to blink rapidly as she swallowed hard. Then her face hardened and she huffed. “Don't you raise your voice at me, I'm just worried about Charlie.”

Thomas clenched his jaw. “He is not yours to worry about. He is mine. I know what's best for him and its best that he forgets her. Its best if we all do,”

Evie frowned. “But you loved her, we should never forget the people we love, thats the only way of keeping them alive.”'

Thomas' eyes were unreadable, but Evie could swear she saw a flicker of emotion dance deep within him, only for a moment.

“She's not alive. She's dead. I want you to move in tomorrow.”

Evie opened her mouth to protest, but he held up his cigarette bud in her direction, causing her to close her mouth with a huff.

“Tomorrow.”

Taglist:

@cillianscupid @duckietie @novashelby @furiousmango @beastofburdenxo @maeplaysbass @forgottenpeakywriter @nojustnobro @xxiamtiebrousxx @wonderlanddreamer @anukulee @rosirot @gathania93 @shadyloveobject @hatethis29 @breakthestereo @bisexualr2d2 @remembering-angels @because21345 @bernadettebraun @lau219 @watermeezer @mrsarnasdelicious @bubulubu777 @sunpuffsstuff @sunny-0-0 @chillianmurphy