#Hope you like the censored hands

[girlboydoppio]

What a freak

[vanyafresita]

actually, you know what ? im glad my ex gf ghosted me, i dodged a bullet it seems

[a-very-fond-farewell]

ok the vibe is: I’m just a silly little guy in a dreadful little world. time to go back to my roots (*eats croutons straight from the bag*)

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ BURNER ACCOUNTS — GOJO SATORU.

contents. fem! reader, loser ex-boyfriend! satoru, exes to lovers, college! au, satoru making burners to watch your stories, miscommunications—satoru is not perfect but he’s trying okay?, gossip icons shoko & suguru <3, i had a silly idea and it turned into 2.6k words my bad

there’s a peculiar account watching your instagram stories—@user273582838, to be exact. you don’t think it’s a very well timed coincidence seeing as you and satoru have just broken up—so you decide to do some digging. 

which of course, means enlisting the help of shoko.

“i think satoru is stalking me,” you mumble, making her pause in the middle of sipping on her energy drink—for a med student, her habits don’t seem every healthy. this is her third one of the day.

“okay,” she nods, “i wouldn’t put it past him, but what makes you say that?”

“look,” you turn your phone to face her, the blank, anonymous instagram account right there on the list of users who have viewed your story. she crinkles her brows, blinking for a moment before humming.

“that definitely seems like something he’d do,” she nods—and then, “i have an idea.”

“okay,” you brighten, nodding enthusiastically, “what’s the plan?”

“try and log in with that user.”

“shoko,” you look at her like she’s grown two heads. maybe the lack of sleep is finally getting to her—no amount of energy drinks can save her at this point. “we don’t have the password—”

“—and that, dummy,” she rolls her eyes, making you scowl at the name, “is why we click forgot my password and see the last four digits of the phone number that registered the account. if it’s satoru’s number, we’ll know.”

okay—you take it back. shoko is a genius and a full-blown brilliant mastermind that you could never hope to come close to. you’re glad you chose her to help—you’re even more glad she agreed because you would not have thought of that. this is fantastic. a fool-proof plan. 

you grin wide, eyes lighting up as you gasp, “shoko! you’re so smart, that’s a great idea!”

“i know,” she grumbles, “took you long enough to notice.”

ignoring her, you quickly pull out your phone and try to log onto the account, typing user273582838 into the username box and clicking forgot my password. shoko is hovering over your shoulder, and your breath is held as you wait for the page to load and the number to pop up. within just a few seconds, the first few digits are censored with asterisks, but the last four show, and—

yeah. it’s satoru’s fucking number. just as you suspected—you and shoko scoff together at the same time, rolling your eyes. 

“well,” you look at her, lips pursed in irritation—of course, satoru refuses to give you space and leave you alone after your break up (which was his fault, might you add), “what now?”

“send the verification code to his number,” she presses, “it’ll definitely spook him when he sees.”

she’s so good at what she does, you think in awe, staring at her with heart-eyes. nodding quickly, you press send code. 

hopefully, that’ll give satoru the heart attack you want it to.

———

satoru stares at his screen in abject horror—who could be trying to log into his burner account? the only person who should possibly stumble across it is you, but surely you’re not closely inspecting your story viewers, are you? so then, who could be trying to log onto the instagram account of @user273582838?

“suguru,” he says in a trance, “are you trying to log onto the burner?”

“are you bringing that shit up again?” suguru grumbles, controller in hand as he pays attention to the screen, “i told you that was a stupid idea. a pathetic one too—”

“well, i didn’t want to keep waiting for you to send screenshots to see the stories—”

“you’re a fucking loser, do you know that? pathetic,” suguru reiterates. “move on.”

“no,” satoru hisses in disbelief, “why would i do that? now, was that you or not? you’re the only other person who knows the user.”

“as if i care to log onto your loser burner account,” suguru snorts, shaking his head in amusement. he beats satoru’s high score, turning to give him a sly grin as he adds, “i wasn’t removed, so i can view the stories all i want.”

“you’re a jerk, you know that?” satoru grunts, crossing his arms and pouting, “i’m having the worst heartbreak of my life, and you—”

“who’s fault is it that you’re dumped?”

satoru deflates. 

okay, so he supposedly hasn’t been the best boyfriend. it’s not that satoru isn’t helplessly committed to you—he’s so sickeningly obsessed with you, it’s actually a bit unhealthy. suguru says so, at least. but satoru is…well, satoru, and he doesn’t always seem to take things as seriously as most people would hope. 

evidently, that includes your relationship—though, he does insist on disagreeing on that. according to you, he doesn’t take you on dates often enough, and sometimes he flirts back with random strangers. that’s not true—he’s simply a bit of a tease and enjoys it when you’re jealous, but he doesn’t flirt back. that’s outrageous. you’ve even claimed he’s mean about it and makes a joke out of it all—satoru would never be mean on purpose; he only teases because the banter is always endearing. 

but, unfortunately, you don’t seem to see it the way he does, and now he’s woefully single and cold and alone in bed. no cuddles, no goodnight kisses, and no head scratches. 

life is so cruel sometimes. 

“suguru,” he says in distress, “i’m serious. someone’s trying to hack my burner—who could it be?”

“hmm, i don’t know…maybe the one and only person who would notice the account in the first place?”

“but why try and log in if the password is unknown?”

suguru looks at satoru like he’s stupid—apparently, he is because he’s not putting two and two together. 

“maybe because sending a verification code shows the last four digits of the registered phone number? you’ve probably been caught, you idiot.”

satoru pales at that—he didn’t think about that. it slipped his mind completely. fuck, he should’ve used a burner email instead. he stares down at his phone numbly—yeah, he thinks, he’s screwed. 

———

after two days of continuous log in attempts into satoru’s burner account—it’s only just to spook him extra—you finally decide to confront him. 

we need to talk. is all you send him. 

the three bubbles appear on his end multiple times before disappearing—you and shoko get a good cackle out of that and laugh at him for a bit before he finally answers. 

miss me already? knew it ;)

wow. what a dickhead. 

so, because you can be equally as much of a prick, you send him a screenshot of his phone number on the log in page followed by a message that says: no. it’s so you can explain this. 

the three dots show up again for a few minutes before he finally responds with: okay. you caught me. when do you wanna meet?

well, that was easy. satoru is the type to not go down without a fight no matter how cornered he is—he’s stubborn and annoying like that. you turn to shoko for help.

“meet him now,” shoko crosses her arms, “don’t give him time to come up with some ridiculous excuse.”

“what excuse could he possibly come up with?” you snort, “that he was possessed and the evil spirit in his mind made him stalk his ex like a loser?”

“true,” she concedes, taking a sip from her energy drink—seriously, how many of these does this girl drink in a day? “i just want to know what happens,” she shrugs, “so do it now.”

of course, as on brand as ever, shoko is merely in it for the drama. you roll your eyes before sighing and nodding. 

“okay,” you huff. 

meet me at my place. now.

on my way, he sends back almost instantly. 

“he’s probably just excited to see you,” shoko snorts, “like the loser he is.”

“you’re probably right,” you purse your lips in exasperation. in all your time knowing him, you’ve definitely realized that satoru is definitely…well, a case. 

———

“hey,” shoko whispers to suguru through the phone, walking out your door so you can prepare to confront satoru. “did you know satoru’s been stalking—”

“—on a burner account? yeah, i know.”

okay, she frowns to herself, that was no fun at all. suguru is already aware of the drama. but that’s no matter—surely, he can’t possibly already know that satoru has been invited over to be scolded. 

“yeah, well,” she says smugly, “did you know he’s actually on his way over to—”

“—get yelled at? yeah, i’m aware. he called me panicked. what a fucking loser.”

“okay, well since you’re up to speed,” shoko grumbles bitterly, rolling her eyes. she was supposed to be the knight in shining armor with the juicy updates—but evidently, satoru is pathetic enough to already cry to suguru about his dilemma. “wanna meet up and get sushi nearby? i bet they’ll get back together in twenty minutes.”

“i bet ten. loser pays for the food?”

“you’ve got yourself a deal.”

———

satoru sits on your couch in shame, bouncing his leg nervously as you sit on the opposite end with your arms crossed and brow raised. 

it’s quiet. he doesn’t have the guts to say anything, waiting for you to break the silence. maybe you’re not that mad.

“so,” you start, “it’s nice to finally meet you, user273582838.”

he rubs his neck awkwardly, chuckling through his nerves as he mumbles, “oh, hey there! it’s a small world, huh?”

“satoru.”

yeah, never mind. you seem pretty mad. 

“okay, look,” he begins, “you can’t blame me. you dumped me, your sweet, loving, and unsuspecting boyfriend out of nowhere! i was heartbroken and shattered—and then you didn’t even give me a chance to work it out! i was not in the right headspace to make wise decisions so…so this is basically not my fault.”

that doesn’t seem to help his case—in fact, it only makes it worse. 

“so it’s my fault?”

“wha—no!” he says quickly, “no, definitely not.”

you sigh, rubbing your forehead in defeat as you mumble, “satoru, we are broken up for a reason. you can’t overstep and—”

“it’s a pretty stupid reason,” he grumbles under his breath, crossing his arms and frowning. you glare at him from the side as you scoff in disbelief. 

“of course,” you chuckle dryly, “of course you would say that. nothing is ever serious enough to you—”

“it’s pretty fucking serious to me,” he spits, shooting you a look that tells you he’s just as shocked as you, “that’s obviously why i’m the one who’s still not moved on as easily as you. how seriously did you really take it?”

“that’s not fair,” you grit, “you made it abundantly clear you didn’t care enough, so why should i—”

“i fucking cared a shit ton,” he says incredulously, “that’s bullshit, and you know it—”

“don’t curse at me, satoru—”

“well, don’t accuse me of not caring when i clearly—”

“oh, yeah cause you cared so much when you were laughing with that waitress as she hit on you,” you seethe, throwing a pillow from your couch at him. he can catch it easily—you know this for sure, but he lets it hit him out of what you’re sure is at least a little consideration to your feelings. 

“i wasn’t laughing because i enjoyed it,” he crinkles his brows as if you’ve said the most ridiculous thing ever, “it was just funny because she was trying so hard. and you looked all cute when you got mad.”

“what kind of boyfriend enjoys watching his girlfriend get mad—”

“the kind of boyfriend who thinks his girlfriend is adorable when she’s mad—”

“yeah, well your idea of a date is going to the mall with shoko and suguru. what kind of date is that—”

“okay, i was a bit clueless sometimes, but you could’ve said something instead of just dumping me like i was some random guy in your dm’s—”

“you need to grow the fuck up, satoru—”

“now look at who's cursing!”

it’s silent—both you and him have your arms crossed and lips curled into scowls as you both glare at each other. you’re stubbornly convinced satoru doesn’t care as much as you do, and he’s firmly committed to the idea that you’re twisting him into some douche who doesn’t give two shits. 

it’s quiet like that for a bit before he deflates and slumps against the couch, rubbing his face as he groans. 

“look,” he starts, “i’m sorry. i never meant to make it seem like i enjoy attention from other girls, and i didn’t realize you wanted more dates. i’d have done things differently if you told me how you felt.”

he sounds sincere. and he’s looking at you with those eyes of his—god, those stupid little eyes that are so wide and blue and deep and full of love. even after that whole argument, satoru is clearly as painfully in love as ever. 

you sigh before playing with a loose thread on your sweatpants. 

“i…guess i could’ve talked it out first. i probably shouldn’t have skipped straight to breaking up,” you mutter, not meeting his eyes. 

satoru stares glumly at you from the corner of his eyes before he adds bitterly, “you don’t seem to miss me. not even a little.”

“toru,” you pinch your nose, “of course i miss you. i was not gonna be mopey on instagram, though—”

“doesn’t seem like it,” he huffs. he’s a bit hurt—you can tell because he’s not meeting your eyes, and he’s not got that playful little upward curl of his lips. 

you’re a bit weak, you realize—but you suppose you always have been for satoru, because you’re shuffling to his end of the couch and poking his cheek gently. 

“i miss you tons, y’know,” you murmur—you smile a little at his pout before adding, “i want more dates this time around. and stop letting girls get away with being shameless flirts.”

he finally meets your eyes—it’s like a child on christmas, the way his face lights up and his lips curl into an excited grin.

“you mean i get to be your boyfriend again?”

it’s cute—the way he asks to be your boyfriend and not if you’ll be his girlfriend. maybe you’ve been a bit unfair, maybe satoru has always cared deeply in his dumb little clueless way of his own. 

“fine,” you pretend to roll your eyes. he looks hopelessly excited as he wraps an arm around you and pulls you into his side, tucking you under his chin as he rests his cheek on your head. 

“you should really talk to me more,” he murmurs, “i’m…things fly over my head sometimes. i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry too,” you admit, “i’ll talk to you—but you better listen to me if i do. don’t turn it into jokes.”

“i never turn things into jokes,” he grumbles petulantly, huffing to the side as you shoot him an unimpressed raise of your brow. “does this mean i can follow you again?”

“yes,” you snort.

“and you’ll follow back, right?”

“yes, satoru,” you sigh, shaking your head in amusement. he’s already back to being a handful—but you can admit you might have missed it just a bit. “but for the love of god, please delete that burner.”

“fine,” he pouts, tugging you closer. 

you giggle, he grins, and then you’re kissing—and everything feels as it should be. 

———

“they’re back together,” shoko says in disbelief, staring at your text. suguru groans, pausing mid bite as he rubs over his forehead in defeat. 

of course, you and satoru just have to make up in exactly fifteen minutes. not ten. not twenty. exactly fifteen. 

how considerate of you both. 

“are you kidding?” suguru grumbles, “so neither of us win.”

“guess not,” she says sourly, rolling her eyes. 

woefully, they both agree to split the check. 

suguru and shoko are so me and my friend every time our other friend argues with her boyfriend we deadass be making bets over when they make up and loser has to pay for boba LMAO

[dancingbirdie]

Okay so on Astarion, I was reading this fic about him not knowing Tavs true intentions with him and it bothering Astarion a lot, so what if he goes to some mage or magic user and asks them to show Tavs true intentions to him, when he does the vision he sees is just... being snuggled. It's Tav on top of him and the both of you are falling asleep, his hands are under your shirt softly petting your skin as your sleepy self is contently snuggled up to him. I just start crying about him finding out that Tavs DASTARDLY and EVIL plan with him, their greatest desire from him... is to simply be held. 🥺

Hi @goblin-creatcher! Thank you so much for this BEAUTIFUL prompt. I, uhh, kind of took it and went a million miles an hour with it. This is honestly one of my favorite things I've ever written. I hope you enjoy it as well! xoxoxo

Something Imagined / Something Real

Word Count: 3.9K

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Warnings/Tags: Brief but detailed description of rough consensual sex, descriptions and references to Astarion's trauma/trauma responses, minor Act 1 and Act 2 spoilers, FLUFF, angst

Suggested Song Pairing: Slow Dancing in A Burning Room (Stripped) - cover by ST LUNA

Summary: Astarion has been suspicious of Tav’s true intentions toward him. He persuades Gale to cast a spell and reveal her motivations. ANGST and FLUFF ensue. A rewriting of Astarion’s confession scene from Act 2.

The sun had just begun to set on the campsite when Astarion decided to put his plan into action. He had waited until Tav departed with some of the other party members before making his way over to the wizard. Gale was too busy reassembling the bookshelf inside his tent to notice Astarion’s approach. It wasn’t until he gave a polite cough that Gale jumped and whirled to face him. 

“No, no, no,” he began all at once, hands raised in a sort of shooing motion. Astarion stared at him in confusion. “I can respect Tav’s indulging in your need for blood, but as I’ve said before: I taste terrible.” 

Astarion scoffed. “Charming. Actually, wizard, I was coming to request your aid in a different, though somewhat related, matter.”

“Really? Care to elaborate?” Gale responded, still somewhat wary. It wasn’t often he found himself alone with the vampire. 

“Testy, I see,” Astarion crooned teasingly. His knee-jerk response to people treating him like a monster, to behave in the most false saccharine sort of way. 

But he drew up short, censoring himself before saying anything else he might regret. He knew he needed to get on the wizard’s good side if he had any chance of getting the answers he sought. 

“I was hoping you knew a spell to reveal someone’s true intentions. Their… motivations for behaving in a certain way, so to speak,” he finished more seriously. 

Gale pondered the question for a moment before answering. 

“Hmm… yes, there is magic to determine that sort of thing… Although it’s been some time since I practiced it…” He trailed off, rubbing his chin in thought. 

“Why are you asking for such a thing?” he asked suddenly. 

Astarion had been prepared for this question, of course. No one did anything for free, no questions asked. He delivered his explanation perfectly, as he’d been rehearsing in his mind.

“One might say our dear sweet Tav and I have been growing a bit… closer these days, but I can sense a master manipulator when I see one. I just simply want to ensure their intentions toward me - toward the party - are true,” he replied with mock innocence. 

“Ah, yes,” Gale nodded. “I gathered as much when the two of you slipped away from the tiefling’s party a few nights ago.” 

“But,” he continued on,”I needn’t think you should worry when it comes to Tav. She seems about as transparent as they come. I’m sure any intentions she has toward you are true.”

Yes, but the best actors always mask their motivations behind innocence and transparency, Astarion thought to himself. I should know. I’ve been doing it for centuries.

After the party’s unfortunate meeting with that Gur in the Sunlit Wetlands, Astarion realized he would have to take potential threats from Cazador even more seriously. He wasn’t about to lose his freedom, not now that he finally had some small taste of it. 

It didn’t hurt to be more suspicious of everyone he encountered, even the sweetling Tav. Anyone could be an operative sent by Cazador, and the best ones would be as skilled as he was in the art of manipulation. It was well-known at this point that the person he’d grown the closest to on their journey was their brave party leader, Tav. Unlikely as it may be that she was scheming for his master, Astarion’s paranoia wouldn’t let him indulge in interactions with her a second longer unless he knew how she truly felt. 

Given Gale’s hesitation, Astarion knew he would have to kick his acting up a notch. Press on that wizard’s heartstrings. Touch the one nerve he knew he was sensitive to.

“Gale, darling, from one literally damaged soul to another, indulge me just this once,” Astarion beseeched him. 

The wizard glared at him a moment, before finally relenting with a heavy sigh. “Fine. Fine. But I want it known that I don’t agree with this so-called solution one whit,” he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Yes, yes, noted and formally documented, on my word as a former Baldurian magistrate,” Astarion replied cheerily. “So, let’s hop to it then, shall we?”

“What, right now?” Gale asked, shocked. “Shouldn’t we be, I don’t know, a little less conspicuous?” 

“What better time than now?” Astarion responded. “Tav’s out gathering firewood with Wyll and Karlach. They won’t be back for some time. As for Lae’zel and Shadowheart, well…” he paused, gesturing over his shoulder. 

Said two were engaged in a heated sparring session on the outskirts of the camp. Snarls and curses could be heard emanating from both warriors as they tried, and failed, to gain the upper hand against their opponent.

“That lovers’ dance could go on until morning,” Astarion finished. 

“Fair point,” Gale admitted begrudgingly, grimacing at the sound of swords clashing violently. “Very well. Let’s get started.” 

Clearing his throat, Gale began to utter a series of phrases completely foreign to Astarion. He watched as the wizard began moving his hands in a wavelike pattern, forming a circle before them. Suddenly, a mist began to form from seemingly thin air, taking shape according to the boundaries Gale’s hands were creating. The mist grew more and more opaque until it appeared before them like a clouded mirror. 

As the fogginess of the ethereal magic began to clear, the “mirror” became a confusing blur of scenes whipping by, too fast for Astarion or Gale to really comprehend. There were flashes of Tav and Astarion, together and separate, but they disappeared too quickly to ascertain their context. It was as though the spell was shuffling through the entirety of Tav’s thoughts, assessing each one at breakneck speed. 

Finally, the spell slowed to a halt, stopping on one scene in particular. Astarion was struck speechless by what began playing out in the foggy portal before them. So distracted, he didn’t even notice Gale’s tight cough, or how the wizard suddenly became intensely interested in a copse of trees nearby, rather than the revelation the spell was revealing.

Not that the scene was especially profound, objectively speaking. In fact, to anyone else, it might be viewed as the least revelatory thing possible that the spell could have shown. Boring. Inconsequential, even. But to Astarion, it was almost earth shattering. 

He saw himself - he could see his face! - with Tav, lying tangled together in some immaculate four-poster bed. 

That was the first shock that coursed through him, nearly causing his knees to buckle. He was seeing himself for the first time in over 200 years. Or at least, he was seeing himself as Tav saw him. And… the person he saw… Well, he was gorgeous. White blonde locks, curled and tousled in a devil-may-care sort of way. A strong, patrician nose that suggested good breeding. High, sharp cheekbones. Full lips, upturned in a thoughtless grin. Red eyes bordered by long, sweeping lashes. Delicately pointed elven ears. Smooth alabaster skin, without blemish or spot. 

Astarion could scarcely believe his own eyes. 

The second shock to his system was the nature of their activities. He would have been less surprised had the vision shown them fucking. Him taking her roughly from behind perhaps. His name a cry of ecstasy from her lips as he pistoned in and out of her with a feral sort of determination. 

Fantasies of lust, of total domination, now those were things he was familiar with inspiring in the minds of the victims he had taken as lovers. It was what he strove for, in all honesty. Desire like that all but ensured he would capture his prey and live to serve another day for his master. 

But nothing of the sort was occurring between vision-Tav and himself. Instead, they were just… embracing? What in sweet hells was this?

She lay halfway on top of him. Her hair was mussed, perhaps from sleep or perhaps from previous lovemaking. One hand was drawing absentminded shapes across his chest, her lips trailing behind, leaving kisses in their wake. He watched as vision-Astarion chuckled softly, as his hands slipped beneath her sleepshirt to caress her waist, as he placed an innocent kiss on the top of Tav’s head. Eventually, she reached for his hand. They both watched their fingers intertwine, blissfully content.

It was the purest, unadulterated expression of affection that Astarion had ever seen. Something in his heart quaked at the sight of it. He wanted that moment. He envied, he hated, vision-Astarion for enjoying such apparent happiness.

So absorbed in the vision and its implications, Astarion failed to notice the soft padding of feet that indicated someone’s re-entry into the camp. 

“If the two of you are quite finished poking around in my head,” an angry voice suddenly spat from behind them, “I’d appreciate you preserving what little privacy I have left and shutting that damn spell off.”

Mortified, Astarion and Gale turned to see Tav, arms crossed and visibly seething with rage. Gale quickly dispelled the magic with a flick of his wrist. A blush was slowly but surely rising up Tav’s neck to reach her cheeks. Whether from rage or embarrassment, Astarion couldn’t be certain. 

“Tav, let us explain-” Astarion started.

“It was his idea-” Gale blurted at the same time, pointing at Astarion. 

Both paused, glaring at one another. But Tav would have none of their feeble attempts at backpedaling. 

“The explanation doesn’t matter. Whose idea it was doesn’t matter. The fact is that both of you violated the privacy of my mind, which I’ll remind you, has ALREADY been violated by having a bloody tadpole forced inside of it!” Tav shouted. At their words, the camp became enveloped in a heavy silence. Even the crickets ceased their chirping.

Astarion cringed inwardly, knowing the other party members could plainly hear this altercation and had likely stopped whatever it was that they had been doing to listen in. He noted the sounds of swords clanging together had ceased. He was certain Lae’zel and Shadowheart at least were aware of what was happening. Nosy bastards, all of them.

But what disturbed him even more was the realization that Tav’s eyes were welling with tears. She was too proud to acknowledge them or wipe them away. Such was her nature. But they were there nonetheless, and the knowledge that Astarion had brought her to the point of tears was enough to spur a rush of utter self-loathing inside him.

Without another word, Tav turned on her heel and marched stiffly out of camp, toward the direction of a nearby creek they’d identified as a water source earlier in the day.

“I can’t believe I let you convince me to perform that spell,” Gale said as she disappeared between the trees. He dragged his hands down his face. 

“How could we have been so doltish, forgetting that all of our privacies have already been violated with this tadpole business?”

Astarion didn’t have an answer to that. At least, not one the wizard could possibly understand. 

The thought hadn’t occurred to Astarion, he realized, because violations of privacy had been something so intrinsic to his being for over 200 years. He didn’t even recognize it as something abnormal. Like a fish unaware that the water surrounding it is, in fact, water. 

Violations of privacy were a part of life, at least for him. So much so that his request for Gale to perform that magic hadn’t even occurred to him as an overstepping of boundaries. To Astarion, it had simply been a matter of survival. He had needed to know another potentially manipulative person’s true intentions, and so he had found a means to uncover it and maintain the upper hand. 

Belatedly, he also realized that Gale’s hesitation to cast the spell had had nothing to do with being inconvenienced for the evening, but because the wizard had known that it was improper to do to another person. If he had misread that, Astarion wondered, then what other truly benevolent behaviors had he mistaken as pragmatic manipulation?

“I need to go find her,” Astarion murmured, clenching and unclenching his fists in an uncharacteristic fit of uncertainty. 

“Yes, you do,” Gale asserted. “We both owe her a sincere apology… if she’ll even accept it.”

“I’ll see if I can convince her to come back to camp,” Astarion replied, making to leave in the direction Tav had stormed off. 

“Wait,” Gale said, a hand on his shoulder. Astarion turned to meet his gaze. 

“Look, well, I’m obviously not an expert in healthy demonstrations of affection. But I do think it’s obvious from what you saw in that spell that Tav well and truly cares about you. In perhaps the purest way possible. Treat that carefully.”

Part of Astarion wanted to laugh aloud in utter hopelessness at the wizard’s advice. Someone cared for him? Truly and purely? No hidden games, no strings attached? Oh certainly, that wouldn’t be a problem for Astarion at all. Obviously, his 200-year existence as a master-manipulator-fetch-hound for a power-hungry vampire lord had perfectly prepared him to respond to this situation in a healthy manner. Obviously.

But all that was too much to reveal to someone he barely knew and too heavy to say aloud. Rather than giving some smarmy retort, Astarion opted instead to give a stiff nod and continue walking toward the edge of camp. He had no idea how he could make things right with Tav, but at the very least he could try. 

***

He found Tav sitting on a fallen tree near the edge of the creek bed. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them as she rested a cheek to her knees. In the waning twilight, she reminded Astarion of some misbegotten gargoyle perched on the roof of a temple, solitary and so very sad. 

Her ears twitched as she noted his arrival. Astarion wasn’t trying to be stealthy. On top of everything else, the last thing he needed to do was scare her. 

“Can I join you?” he asked softly, wincing to himself at the awkwardness of the question. 

The reality was that there was no way to broach this conversation without some stilted beginning, and he hated it. Navigating tricky conversations was normally something he excelled at. But as he was quickly finding, when it related to Tav, nothing in his past life had prepared him to respond to her well. 

“If you’d like,” Tav answered tonelessly. 

Knowing it was probably the best response he was going to get, Astarion swallowed thickly and moved to sit down on the log next to her. 

“I… wanted to… apologize for what you saw, back at camp,” he began.

“Apologize for doing it, or apologize for getting caught?” Tav asked as she turned her head to look at him, resting her other cheek on her knees. 

Astarion balked at the question. Her piercing gaze unnerved him. He hadn’t really thought that far. 

“Both, I suppose?” he answered honestly, although it sounded more like a question to Tav. She huffed a laugh.

“You know, part of me really wants to yell at you. Scream in your face. Tell you off proper,” she mused.

“So why don’t you?” Astarion asked, perplexed. 

Tav didn’t respond at first, just sat there studying him. As if by staring at him long enough, she could project the answer into his mind. 

Astarion didn’t interrupt her, much as he would have liked to. Part of him always bristled when people gazed at him for too long. It was unfair that they could study him, when he hadn’t been able to so much as glance at his reflection in over 200 years. 

Finally, Tav released a heavy sigh, her body curling further in on itself. She closed her eyes as she spoke.

“Because then I would be just like every other bastard in your life who’s mistreated you.”

Astarion flinched in surprise. Those had not been the sort of words he’d been expecting. The truth of them cut deeper than had she raged at him like she wanted to. It left him feeling even more vulnerable, and that in turn made him want to retreat into the comfort of viciousness.

“I don’t need you to pull any punches,” he scoffed, glaring at her. “Go ahead and say what you will.”

She straightened up at his tone, opening her eyes and returning his glare. 

“No. I don’t want to,” she said testily.

“I don’t need your pity,” he hissed. “It’s insulting.”

“Gods damn it all, Astarion!” Tav exclaimed suddenly, causing him to jump in surprise. She threw her hands up in defeat. “I’m not doing anything out of pity! I don’t want to rage at you, because I know that whatever I say right now, I won’t mean it come the morning!”

Astarion blinked. Once again he was left feeling flat footed by the turn of the conversation. Sensing his surprise, Tav continued on with her deluge of words.

“You hurt me tonight, and I’m angry at you - and at Gale, for that matter - for what you did. But you’ve shared enough of your… history… with me, that I realize your behavior is just… just a byproduct of centuries of abuse and manipulation you’ve endured! And I won’t be another abuser in your life. I won’t,” she asserted. 

Astarion continued staring at her, as if she were some otherworldly creature that had just wandered across his path. He watched as Tav inhaled a deep breath, releasing it shakily. She turned away from him to peer out into the forest, uncertain. She opened and closed her mouth several times before actually speaking. As if whatever she was about to say was more intimidating to her than anything else she’d said tonight. 

“I… care deeply for you, Astarion,” she said quietly. “You obviously saw that in the vision. I’m not playing any games. There’s no hidden motive. I’m not trying to manipulate you.”

She turned to look at him again before continuing, her breathing a bit unsteady. 

“I didn’t sleep with you that night of the tiefling party as some sort of maneuver to gain your trust. Although I understand if that was your motivation for doing so.” 

Astarion’s expression morphed into one of guilt. But Tav nodded soberly, as if she had already expected it, before continuing on. 

“It’s okay. I’m not angry. But I’m putting all my cards on the table now, so to speak. Actually, your decision tonight forced my hand, but I had been planning on telling you soon anyway. So, there you have it. The truth of my intentions. What you do with that information is up to you.”

She turned back to gaze out at their surroundings. Like she was giving him the opportunity to bolt away without her watching him. As if she expected him to flee from her confession. 

But Astarion didn’t flee. He remained seated, staring at her in complete wonderment. 

“Why?” he asked quietly.

She looked back at him again, confusion evident on her face. 

“Why what?”

“Why do you care for me? You’re so… well-adjusted. And I’m well… this,” he finished lamely, placing a hand on his chest. 

Tav pursed her lips. “It would be a mistake to misconstrue my empathy for you as me being well-adjusted. Everyone has their own demons, Astarion,” she murmured. “Mine just look different from yours.”

Astarion mulled her words over in his mind, considering them. He leaned forward to brace his forearms on his knees, his head drooping slightly. 

“I…,” he started, unsure. “That vision… what it implied… You deserve something real, Tav. You’re incredible… truly.” 

Tav closed her eyes, bracing for the fallout. Even though she would accept his decision, whatever it was, she didn’t think she could bear to watch him deny her. It would hurt too much. 

“Look. When we met, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan,” he blurted all at once. Rising swiftly to his feet, Tav watched as he began to pace before her, near to bursting with frenetic energy. 

“Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me,” he counted off, laughing half-heartedly. “It was… easy - instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do… was not fall for you… which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart,” he finished, stopping to stand before her. 

She held his gaze, speechless. 

“I want you,” he whispered fervently. “I want what was in that vision… I want us to be something real.”

Never in a million years had she thought he would respond to her like this. She opened her mouth to speak, but Astarion cut her off with another sudden exclamation. 

“I just don’t know what real is,” he confessed, his tone a touch hysterical. Tav knew from his body language that being this transparent was completely out of Astarion’s comfort zone. 

“Being… close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back. For him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust, and loathing. I… I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to,” he finished, staring at her with beseeching eyes, willing her to understand.

Tav rose to her feet, coming to stand before him. 

“I don’t want you for your body,” she whispered. “Or to perform any acts of intimacy. We can be together, without sleeping together, for as long as you need.”

“Really,” he asked softly, his voice pitched low, rough with emotion.

“Really,” Tav asserted, giving him a small smile. “Would it be all right if…” she paused, conflicted. He eyed her curiously.

“Could I hug you?” she whispered.

The fact that she asked before doing so caused a well of emotion to spring up inside him. Eyes watering, Astarion nodded. 

Slowly, Tav moved forward to wrap her arms around his waist. Her head nestled into the crook of his neck and shoulder. A perfect fit. He felt her exhale a deep sigh.

Tav hugging him was a sensation unlike any he had ever felt. At least, any he could remember feeling. The act of being touched, embraced, without any desire for something more. She just wanted to hold him, feel him close to her. It was incomprehensible to him, but utterly enjoyable, at the same time. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Astarion raised his arms to return Tav’s embrace. Drawing her even closer, he bowed his head to rest his cheek against her hair. It was soft, like the finest silk. He closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply, appreciating her sweet, floral scent.   

She made to pull away after a moment, not wishing to overwhelm him. But Astarion gripped her more firmly, a silent urge for them to stay that way a little longer. 

“This… this is nice,” he whispered. 

He both felt and heard Tav hum contentedly in response. 

It wasn’t identical to the vision from Tav’s mind that he had seen, but Astarion reveled in their embrace nonetheless. It felt like the beginning of something new. And for the first time in his very, very long life, Astarion felt excited at the prospects of what would come next. 

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Sandra Newman’s “Julia”

The first chapter of Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four has a fantastic joke that nearly everyone misses: when Julia, Winston Smith's love interest, is introduced, she has oily hands and a giant wrench, which she uses in her "mechanical job on one of the novel-writing machines":

https://gutenberg.net.au/ebooks01/0100021.txt

That line just kills me every time I re-read the book – Orwell, a novelist, writing a dystopian future in which novels are written by giant, clanking mechanisms. Later on, when Winston and Julia begin their illicit affair, we get more detail:

She could describe the whole process of composing a novel, from the general directive issued by the Planning Committee down to the final touching-up by the Rewrite Squad. But she was not interested in the finished product. She 'didn't much care for reading,' she said. Books were just a commodity that had to be produced, like jam or bootlaces.

I always assumed Orwell was subtweeting his publishers and editors here, and you can only imagine that the editor who asked Orwell to tweak the 1984 manuscript must have felt an uncomfortable parallel between their requests and the notional Planning Committee and Rewrite Squad at the Ministry of Truth.

I first read 1984 in the early winter of, well, 1984, when I was thirteen years old. I was on a family trip that included as visit to my relatives in Leningrad, and the novel made a significant impact on me. I immediately connected it to the canon of dystopian science fiction that I was already avidly consuming, and to the geopolitics of a world that seemed on the brink of nuclear devastation. I also connected it to my own hopes for the nascent field of personal computing, which I'd gotten an early start on, when my father – then a computer science student – started bringing home dumb terminals and acoustic couplers from his university in the mid-1970s. Orwell crystallized my nascent horror at the oppressive uses of technology (such as the automated Mutually Assured Destruction nuclear systems that haunted my nightmares) and my dreams of the better worlds we could have with computers.

It's not an overstatement to say that the rest of my life has been about this tension. It's no coincidence that I wrote a series of "Little Brother" novels whose protagonist calls himself w1n5t0n:

https://craphound.com/littlebrother/Cory_Doctorow_-_Little_Brother.htm

I didn't stop with Orwell, of course. I wrote a whole series of widely read, award-winning stories with the same titles as famous sf tales, starting with "Anda's Game" ("Ender's Game"):

https://www.salon.com/2004/11/15/andas_game/

And "I, Robot":

https://craphound.com/overclocked/Cory_Doctorow_-_Overclocked_-_I_Robot.html

"The Martian Chronicles":

https://escapepod.org/2019/10/03/escape-pod-700-martian-chronicles-part-1/

"True Names":

https://archive.org/details/TrueNames

"The Man Who Sold the Moon":

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/05/22/the-man-who-sold-the-moon/

and "The Brave Little Toaster":

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_212

Writing stories about other stories that you hate or love or just can't get out of your head is a very old and important literary tradition. As EL Doctorow (no relation) writes in his essay "Genesis," the Hebrews stole their Genesis story from the Babylonians, rewriting it to their specifications:

https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/41520/creationists-by-e-l-doctorow/

As my "famous title" stories and Little Brother books show, this work needn't be confined to antiquity. Modern copyright may be draconian, but it contains exceptions ("fair use" in the US, "fair dealing" in many other places) that allow for this kind of creative reworking. One of the most important fair use cases concerns The Wind Done Gone, Alice Randall's 2001 retelling of Margaret Mitchell's Gone With the Wind from the perspective of the enslaved characters, which was judged to be fair use after Mitchell's heirs tried to censor the book:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Suntrust_Bank_v._Houghton_Mifflin_Co.

In ruling for Randall, the Eleventh Circuit Court of Appeals emphasized that she had "fully employed those conscripted elements from Gone With the Wind to make war against it." Randall used several of Mitchell's most famous lines, "but vest[ed] them with a completely new significance":

https://law.justia.com/cases/federal/appellate-courts/F3/268/1257/608446/

The Wind Done Gone is an excellent book, and both its text and its legal controversy kept springing to mind as I read Sandra Newman's wonderful novel Julia, which retells 1984 from the perspective of Julia, she of the oily hands the novel-writing machine:

https://www.harpercollins.com/products/julia-sandra-newman?variant=41467936636962

Julia is the kind of fanfic that I love, in the tradition of both Wind Done gone and Rosenkrantz and Gildenstern Are Dead, in which a follow-on author takes on the original author's throwaway world-building with deadly seriousness, elucidating the weird implications and buried subtexts of all the stuff and people moving around in the wings and background of the original.

For Newman, the starting point here is Julia, an enigmatic lover who comes to Winston with all kinds of rebellious secrets – tradecraft for planning and executing dirty little assignations and acquiring black market goods. Julia embodies a common contradiction in the depiction of young women (she is some twenty years younger than Winston): on the one hand, she is a "native" of the world, while Winston is a late arrival, carrying around all his "oldthink" baggage that leaves him perennially baffled, terrified and angry; on the other hand, she's a naive "girl," who "doesn't much care for reading," and lacks the intellectual curiosity that propels Winston through the text.

This contradiction is the cleavage line that Newman drives her chisel into, fracturing Orwell's world in useful, fascinating, engrossing ways. For Winston, the world of 1984 is totalitarian: the Party knows all, controls all and misses nothing. To merely think a disloyal thought is to be doomed, because the omnipotent, omniscient, and omnicompetent Party will sense the thought and mark you for torture and "vaporization."

Orwell's readers experience all of 1984 through Winston's eyes and are encouraged to trust his assessment of his situation. But Newman brings in a second point of view, that of Julia, who is indeed far more worldly than Winston. But that's not because she's younger than him – it's because she's more provincial. Julia, we learn, grew up outside of the Home Counties, where the revolution was incomplete and where dissidents – like her parents – were sent into exile. Julia has experienced the periphery of the Party's power, the places where it is frayed and incomplete. For Julia, the Party may be ruthless and powerful, but it's hardly omnicompetent. Indeed, it's rather fumbling.

Which makes sense. After all, if we take Winston at his word and assume that every disloyal citizen of Oceania is arrested, tortured and murdered, where would that leave Oceania? Even Kim Jong Un can't murder everyone who hates him, or he'd get awfully lonely, and then awfully hungry.

Through Julia's eyes, we experience Oceania as a paranoid autocracy, corrupt and twitchy. We witness the obvious corollary of a culture of denunciation and arrest: the ruling Party of such an institution must be riddled with internecine struggle and backstabbing, to the point of paralyzed dysfunction. The Orwellian trick of switching from being at war with Eastasia to Eurasia and back again is actually driven by real military setbacks – not just faked battles designed to stir up patriotic fervor. The Party doesn't merely claim to be under assault from internal and external enemies – it actually is.

Julia is also perfectly positioned to uncover the vast blank spots in Winston's supposed intellectual curiosity, all the questions he doesn't ask – about her, about the Party, and about the world. I love this trope and used it myself, in Attack Surface, the third "Little Brother" book, which is told from the point of view of Marcus's frenemy Masha:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250757531/attacksurface

Through Julia, we come to understand the seemingly omniscient, omnipotent Party as fumbling sadists. The Thought Police are like MI5, an Island of Misfit Toys where the paranoid, the stupid, the vicious and the thuggish come together to ruin the lives of thousands, in such a chaotic and pointless manner that their victims find themselves spinning devastatingly clever explanations for their behavior:

https://www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/adamcurtis/entries/3662a707-0af9-3149-963f-47bea720b460

And, as with Nineteen Eighty-Four, Julia is a first-rate novel, expertly plotted, with fantastic, nail-biting suspense and many smart turns and clever phrases. Newman is doing Orwell, and, at times, outdoing him. In her hands, Orwell – like Winston – is revealed as a kind of overly credulous romantic who can't believe that anyone as obviously stupid and deranged as the state's representatives could be kicking his ass so very thoroughly.

This was, in many ways, the defining trauma and problem of Orwell's life, from his origin story, in which he is shot through the throat by a fascist: sniper during the Spanish Civil War:

https://www.rjgeib.com/thoughts/soldiers/george-orwell-shot.html

To his final days, when he developed a foolish crush on a British state spy and tried to impress her by turning his erstwhile comrades in to her:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orwell%27s_list

Newman's feminist retelling of Orwell is as much about puncturing the myth of male competence as it is about revealing the inner life, agency, and personhood of swooning love-interests. As someone who loves Orwell – but not unconditionally – I was moved, impressed, and delighted by Julia.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/28/novel-writing-machines/#fanfic

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

hi, love your writing! can i request Cater, Rook, Vil, Lilia, and Leona seeing their s/o wear something that turns them on/thinks is very attractive on them? thank you!

Cater Diamond:

While his first impulse might be to take a picture of the beautiful scene before him, while ordering you to pose accordingly, this was a look Cater was unwilling to share with the world. He wished he could be as smooth as he imagined but he feels his face going warm, trying to keep his thoughts in line as this wasn’t the ideal opportunity to take advantage of the outfit you’re wearing. He does mumble that your casual cruelty was killing him, nuzzling your shoulder and asking how you’d repay him if he behaved.

Leona Kingscholar:

Leona knows that you’re doing it for him, a ‘subtle’ way to beg for his attention without having to physically get on your knees for him. He can’t take advantage of it right away, pretending not to notice the efforts you’re going to, treating you so casually you would almost think you got demoted from being his lover. It’s when you’re just about to be alone, with company still bothering you, that Leona touches your waist, leaning over to whisper sweet promises in your ear to return your affections if you can manage a quick escape with him.

Lilia Vanrouge:

Lilia’s sly smile lets you know he’s caught on right away, giving a more censored comment on your outfit if others were around. He would whisper in your ear that you’re a tease, playing with the material of your outfit as he asked what had inspired you to wear such a thing. He would chuckle if you tried to play innocent, promising to pull out your honest, sinful desires when you were alone that night.

Rook Hunt:

Rook has always had a fine eye for art, and he can certainly tell when you’re all dolled up for him. He thinks it’s only right to respond with appreciation, considering you a hands on exhibit as he runs them along your body. He whispered in your ear that you always managed to draw his attention in the most unexpected ways, even when you didn’t realize. He gave some observations about the outfit, the color entirely flattering, the fit perfect for your body, he couldn’t get enough of you.

Vil Schoenheit:

Vil always felt an ego stroke when you appealed to his taste, down to the very material you clothed your body with as you knew he liked the way it felt. He needed a bit of a show first, making you show off your trick, modeling your beauty for him to give him a taste of what he was getting soon. He enjoyed admiring you the same way you admired him, considering it returning the favor as you often asked for the same thing when he took your tastes into mind. He enjoyed seeing the pieces you wore, hoping he helped you expand or grow in confidence when it came to trying new fashion.  

[simp-ly-writes]

The Comment Section (pt.2)

─────── · · A Social Media AU Fic

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x gn!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: Commenters are starting to get more and more worked up the longer you and Spencer grow apart.

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, angst, attempt at comedy, more angst, light swearing, fluff, mutual pinning.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | PART ONE | PART THREE | PART 3.5

─ · · A/N: thank you all seriously for the comments and support on the first part, hope you all enjoy this next one equally as much :)

─────── · ·

Super Smash Bros: Battle of the Chosen's

Smosh Games ✓ [Subscribed] Like 100k | Dislike | Share | ... 7.75M subscribers 1.1M views 2 weeks ago click to expand

4,683 Comments

username97 2 weeks ago Dear Diary, its day 14 and there are still no videos of Spencer and (name) together. username05 2 weeks ago Always love the Shayne and Spencer duo, but can they go back to their partners now? username39 6 days ago When's the next episode of Bored AF?? username22 6 days ago Okay, but why haven't I seen (name) in any gaming channel videos lately? I haven't watched in a while, can someone get me caught up? ▼ 12 replies ↳ username66 5 days ago So Spencer didn't exactly explain to (name) that FNAF was not the simulation-type game or party/table-top that they are used to playing but a horror-simulation. (name) got really scared and then super annoyed at him and they haven't been seen together in videos since then. ↳ username69 2 days ago They're overreacting, has to be doing this for views or attention. No other explanation. ↳ username66 1 day ago (edited) (name) is their own person with their own emotions and friendships. In the field they work it intermingles with life and the lives of so many others in ways that people like us will never get to experience correctly. They are entitled to their own feelings and if they think Spencer broke their trust somehow- they can act however they want however right or wrong that appears to others. ↳ username69 1 days ago Well maybe you both should just grow the eff up and shut the h*ll up. ↳ username01 1 day ago Maybe you should do the same username69? Can't even swear like a real fucking adult. username51 just now And so the Chosen Universe Lore expands... username81 just now first.

─────── · ·

Guess That Smosh Skit!

Smosh Games ✓ [Subscribed] Like 62k | Dislike | Share | ... 7.75M subscribers 477k views 2 weeks ago click to expand

2,199 Comments

⚲ Pinned by Creator SmoshGames ✓ 2 weeks ago Both new and old shows are coming soon, what are you hoping to see next? ▼ 765 replies ↳ username01 2 weeks ago Tell Spencer to buy (name) flowers, on theirs hands and knees begging, or write them a card- anything!!! ↳ username33 1 hour ago Spencer and (name) recreate famous ********** scenes. * [this comment has been censored for interfering with Youtube's Community Guidelines; for more information press HERE] ↳ username39 6 days ago BORED AF PLEASEEEEE. username20 1 hour ago Please, please, please bring Olivia back more, her small mutterings always have me rolling on the floor XD username24 3 hour ago I 100% forgot about the Every [Blank] Ever series! So good to see bits of it again! username55 2 weeks ago Anyone else keep rewatching old videos and fan-edits of (yourshipname)? I'm gonna keep acting like nothing ever happened like some other people...

─────── · ·

my favorite (name) and spencer moments :)

(Yourshipname) Updates [Subscribe] Like | Dislike | Share | ... 1.12K subscribers 217k views 3 years ago click to expand

999 Comments

⚲ Pinned by Creator (yourshipname)updates ✓ 2 weeks ago Thank you for all the support on this video recently! I wish it didn't have to come from this though... P-P username55 2 weeks ago Even before they both appeared on camera officially, there are so many background clips of them sitting together, sharing food and vacations in pictures, even pet-sitting?? Like c'mon, theres only so much a girl can take (╥﹏╥) username11 30 minutes ago This comment section is for our collective tears ಥ_ಥ username09 just now 19:45 My favorite clip ever of them, its so soft. Spencer with his eyes closed as (name) fixes their hair in the background of TNTL behind the screen. They're so effortless with one another... username03 1 week ago Lets make a thread! Post your favourite (yourshipname) moments underneath this comment! ▼ 173 replies ↳ username97 1 hour ago Spencer and (name) sharing a kickstart during DND sessions. Spencer and (name) sharing a kickstart during DND sessions. Spencer and (name) sharing a kickstart during DND sessions. Spencer and (name) sharing a kickstart during DND sessions. ↳ username66 2 days ago (name) being so excited over beating an Elden Ring Boss on stream that she runs and kisses Spencer on the cheek before brake dancing in the background while Spencer stares blankly at the camera, cheeks red and eyes wide. MWAHAHHAHA ↳ username04 just now Would have to be (name) dropping the burrito under the table and Spencer placing his hand above their head so they don't hurt themselves 𓏗ᵕ𓏗 ↳ username02 3 days ago 2022 Truck Simulator: Spencer, hand on their knee driving. It is my kryptonite. ↳ username15 1 hour ago (name) dancing with and twirling Spencer after Smosh the Sitcom. I want it as a GIF and framed. ↳ username11 4 days ago Has anyone mentioned their San Diego panel together? That whole hour is surreal, the head resting on shoulders, gripping one another in laughter, holding hands- speaking into the mic at the same time. OR HOW THEY WERE WALKING THE FLOOR TOGETHER IN MATCHING COSPLAY AFTER. ↳ username06 1 hour ago Darts and how they acted like one another. ↳ username32 30 minutes ago 27:49 Chosen Spencer pinning (name) to the wall during that interrogation bit changed my brain chemistry. ↳ username03 just now Wow, this is most responses I've ever received- thank you everyone!! ↳ username17 15 minutes ago 17:12 Them taking a power nap together at the same desk. username33 just now How have we entered a new era of how every "Where's Anthony?" is now a "Where's Spencer/(name)???"

─────── · ·

It's Awkward... (Who Meme'd It?)

Smosh Pit ✓ [Subscribed] Like 62k | Dislike | Share | ... 8.29M subscribers 565k views 1 week ago click to expand

5,199 Comments

username08 1 hour ago That meme coming from Ian was wild! ▼ 199 replies ↳ username87 30 minutes ago 16:16 Dog in Burning House: "Spencer when (name) doesn't want to play games with him - "this is fine, I am fine"" XDDD ↳ username02 20 minutes ago I would have never expected Ian to make that meme out of the list. ↳ username44 5 minutes ago IKR!? Like up against Alex, Courtney, and Trevor? No wonder no one picked him for it. ↳ username87 just now But we all are forgetting the best clip after: 17:12 Spencer proceeded to slip off his chair and hide underneath the table while Amanda was screaming defence and pointing fingers at the crowd. Has to be in the top 50 moments of all time. ↳ username44 just now YES! I love how the whole cast was AFTER THEM. They live for their relationship just like us. <3 username24 3 hour ago The editing team needs to be spotlighted more, BC all their memes were straight fire!!! username08 1 week ago You know when Shayne is hosting that its gonna be a good video ▼ 8 replies ↳ username97 5 days ago Doesn't Shayne already host most of the videos? ↳ username08 5 days ago That was the point- all the videos are good...

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: want a part 3 anyone? what do you want to see happen next?

[dokries]

all my love

pairing: choi seungcheol (s.coups) x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff, friends to lovers

word count: 2.2k

warnings: mentions of drinking (reader is not present), crying drunk hoshi (and seokmin), jeonghan is the devil personified /hj, allusions to the movie drawing closer (2024), love confessions, use of baby

author note: this was a birthday gift for my beloved @m00n1sms ‎♡ eishi, i love you!! thanks for giving me permission to post this :> this was also written shortly after i watched a movie that caused a headache because i cried too much (drawing closer) and i needed to incorporate it in here because i love it <3 lots of love and i hope you enjoy :D

masterlist

seungcheol swears he’s not in love with you.

actually, he’s insistent on it, even when his friends raise an eyebrow and laugh it off…which is what’s happening right now, at their monthly dinner—hey, it’s harder than it looks to gather all thirteen of them for a simple dinner and as the adopted father, he makes sure that there’s always one every single month.

“you’re in love, aren’t you?” soonyoung giggles, and half of the group joins in to laugh at seungcheol’s pouty face.

“hey!” seungcheol protests as he slams down the shot glass of what was once filled with soju down. “stop accusing me of things that aren’t true!”

jeonghan raises an eyebrow beside him and before seungcheol can question his best friend’s actions, soonyoung starts crying.

“how would you feel if you were them, and you didn’t get to see your crush anymore cause he was avoiding you and his feelings for you?” soonyoung sniffles and mingyu wraps an arm around his drunk friend to soothe him, bringing soonyoung into his chest.

seungcheol stares at the two of them before sighing because no matter how many glasses soonyoung had drunk already—which seemed to be way too many—he might have a point, one seungcheol isn't ready to admit.

jeonghan sips his beer quietly before stating bluntly, “you should hang out with them on thursday.”

“what?” seungcheol turns to face him before blinking.

“we were supposed to go to this little flower bouquet workshop on thursday and i really don’t think they would mind if you went instead of me.” jeonghan says casually as he puts down his glass.

he turns to look lazily at his hopelessly in love friend, and sighs. “besides, they think something is up with you…just don’t make it obvious, okay?”

“make what obvious?” seungcheol looks at jeonghan curiously.

“that you love them!” seokmin chimes in from the other end of the long table, getting up so seungcheol can hear him better (he’s drunk as well, just like soonyoung).

seungcheol slumps, pouring himself another drink, already knowing by jeonghan’s evil giggle and glance with joshua that it’s going to be a long night for him especially.

if one thing’s for sure, you weren’t expecting seungcheol to show up at your door with a bouquet of flowers after ghosting you for a week. well, he did say work had become busier but still (it’s easier to be petty than confront your feelings, especially when his hair is all fluffy and his smile is apologetic).

“here,” seungcheol gives you the white orchids with a nervous smile, scratching the back of his neck with the hand that didn’t just brush against yours.

“where’s jeonghan?” you stare down at the bouquet before up at him with a raised eyebrow, ignoring the way your heart beats at the small note that says “i’m sorry :(” tucked into the paper wrap.

confused, seungcheol takes his phone out and points to it. “did he not text you?”

you shake your head before letting seungcheol in so he doesn’t have to stand outside awkwardly any longer, grabbing your phone as you tell him to get comfortable on the couch in your living room.

you ❙

jeonghan where are you and why is s**ngch**l here instead ‎♡

wow that’s a lot of censoring

scum of the earth hellspawn <3 ❙

hehe

you ❙

is that your only response??

i know where you live. do not play with me yoon jeonghan.

scum of the earth hellspawn <3 ❙

fine fine

i’ll explain myself

he’s my replacement for today 😇

just thought you two losers needed to spend time together and you know…actually talk 💀

have fun! thank me later

okay, so basically jeonghan’s being a menace like usual. that’s okay, you’re used to it—but why does he have to involve poor helpless seungcheol in this? you turn to look at the man who’s mindlessly toying with the hem of his blue shirt as he waits for you.

ah, seungcheol. where do you start with him?

originally, you knew him through jeonghan, one of the few mutual friends you had until you got introduced to the whole group after sharing a university class. now out of that hellscape, you’ve stayed somewhat close with all of them, often being invited to the little get-togethers they do once every few months at jeonghan and seungkwan’s shared place, and that is where you met the man of your dreams (all while jeonghan was taking a heavy nap, actually; maybe jeonghan had a vision of bringing his two friends together).

as you sit beside him, seungcheol clears his throat, unsure of where to start. “so…”

you turn your body towards him, encouraging seungcheol to continue with a nod of your head. he blinks before clearing his throat again, though this time his tone is less apprehensive. “i’m sorry i didn’t reply to your texts. i just…”

“…couldn’t handle social contact unless you were forced into it by a certain devil?” you pick up where he pauses, and he cracks a smile at your joke. “yeah i thought so.”

seungcheol’s too scared he’ll accidentally confess if he reveals why he really didn’t say anything back to your numerous well wishes, so he nods with a bittersweet smile, scolding himself in his head for thinking today will be any different from a friend date.

you glance over at the flowers he’s just given you, now secure in a spare vase you had sitting around as you made sure to give them a home before messaging jeonghan, and chuckle, unknowingly lifting seungcheol’s spirits. “you do know we’re going to a flower bouquet making workshop, right?”

“oh. well…” he freezes before pursing his lips and hiding his head in his hands. of course, he completely forgot that you are literally going to the all my love flower shop jeonghan had suggested going to earlier for apology flowers…he did that on purpose, didn’t he?

you smile, shaking your head at his embarrassment. “it’s okay cheol, don’t worry. you can just make me another one to make up for all those days you ghosted me!”

seungcheol winces again but sighs in relief at how casually you mention it; maybe you aren’t that mad after all? he knows he couldn’t be frustrated with you anyway since he is to blame after all, and the little grin on your face as you hold out a hand to help lift him up being one he missed dearly is one he can’t be angry at.

“seungcheol, you’re clipping them all wrong! they’re never gonna last once you put them in water at that rate.”

seungcheol turns to you, his eye twitching at the nagging he’s had to endure once you started the small class. set in the exact same flower shop as the one he entered earlier—the workers gave him a curious glance before noticing you beside him and giving him a wink, making his ears red—the two of you had been led to a small section of the store where there were small pristine tables laid out with newspaper and scissors, as well as things he eventually learned how to use, like the book of flowers and their meanings, which is now serving as a barrier in the middle of the table.

he says your name impatiently before sighing to himself, wondering what jeonghan has gotten him into. “hey, i’m trying my best, okay! besides the instructor said it was fine since it’s my first bouquet anyway.”

“well, i wanna keep it forever since you made it for me, so i need it to be a bouquet that lasts!” you complain, frowning at seungcheol’s dismissive words before immediately turning to your own work in front of you, choosing to ignore your slight slip up.

seungcheol clears his throat before looking over at what you have so far and lets out an begrudgingly appreciative hum. “that’s pretty good actually.”

“aw thanks, cheol!” you smile at him and he suddenly feels like the already vibrant flowers in front of him became so much brighter in just an instant.

he grins to himself, humming softly as he organizes the gerberas in front of him into a small pile; there’s only three of them anyway, all warm colours that match you perfectly.

you had questioned the amount of flowers he had taken and he answered with “it’s easier to handle,” which you thought was a believable excuse. however, he’s taking a page from the book of the movie drunk seokmin had cried about at their gathering the other day, and plans to give you exactly three gerberas, a love confession and one of loyalty, which is something he’s always been to you.

of course, he seems to think you have no idea, and he’s dead wrong. you exhale a shaky breath as you finish up your own bouquet, a collection of the flowers you found pretty while looking at what the shop offers. however, though you’re unaware of it, you also have the same idea to seungcheol’s: using gerberas like in the movie drawing closer to confess your love shyly.

the six gerberas, all ranging from deep reds to cheerful yellows, are arranged in the middle with several other small filler flowers surrounding them, thanks to the help of the instructor who picked them out for you with a wink, knowing what the two of you are up to.

assuming seungcheol is oblivious about the meaning of his own arrangement, you give a content nod to him once he finishes, wrapping up the flowers in probably the prettiest newspaper you’ve ever seen—it’s decorated with flowers and small doodles that match the simplicity of the bouquet he’s created, and he can’t help but smile as you finish up your own with a small bow with twine.

the instructor waves you over to the counter at the front of the store to pay with a smile, and rings you up as seungcheol offers to pay with a sheepish smile, still trying to make up for not being with you for the last week.

“oh my god, these are so cute! i can’t believe you both love each other so much…” the employee points to your hard work and gushes over it as you watch in horror. “like using these to say ‘i’m crazy over you’? that’s genius, especially when you consider how your boyfriend’s bouquet is him confessing he loves you!”

“you two are so versed in the language of flowers, and i’m guessing you watched drawing closer as well! such a tragic love story but i’m guessing it makes you grateful for your own relationship, am i right?” she squeals before handing you your respective bouquets, ushering you out of the all my love flower shop with a “have a nice day, lovebirds!”

you turn to seungcheol and are surprised at how red his face is, his cheeks rivalling your own. maybe…it would be a good idea to just roll with what the nosy shopkeeper was saying, considering it’s true—at least, for you.

you thrust out the bouquet in your shaky hands towards him. “this…is for you, and it’s just like she said.” you clear your throat, since it dries at the sheer adoration in seungcheol’s eyes once you meet them. “i’m crazy in love with you and your short temper, your caring nature and well, just you.”

he takes your bouquet in the hand that’s not holding his own with a smile that’s growing bigger by the second, and you get the courage to continue. “i’ve been holding this off so long because i was scared you didn’t feel the same way, and i…i guess i really hope that lady was right about your flowers.”

seungcheol gulps, giving you the bouquet crafted specifically for you, and sighs, covering the hand you’re using to hold it. “she was totally right…i’m in love with you too, and i’ve already tried denying it.”

he shakes his head with a laugh. “the guys were all right; i was hurting you by not being direct, and i hope that you’ll forgive me for that. this,” he looks down at the three flowers in your now interlocked hands, “is my way of confessing that i want to be by your side, if you’ll let me.”

you grin with him and nod, bringing your heads closer to touch your foreheads together as seungcheol giggles. “i love you so much.”

“i love you too, baby.” he replies instantly, leaving no room for hesitation like he has so many times before, and you turn red at the pet name. just before seungcheol can comment on how cute you are, he’s interrupted by a voice from behind you, and the two of you freeze.

“um, so sorry to interrupt your moment but you’re blocking the entryway of the shop,” the employee says, peeking her head out of the building you had just exited with a sheepish smile.

you and seungcheol exchange a glance before apologizing furiously and walking off in search of a bench to rest, with one of your hands holding the other’s, and one holding your now blossomed love.

[kinq-sleazee]

this is more of a prolonged thought than a cohesive fic but I hope you enjoy

baby daddy deku?

18+ MDNI

god … imagine it being some random hook up ? a friend of mina’s that showed up at one of her pool parties.

and you looked so pretty in that sundress— all soft and smooth. thin fabric nestled perfectly against your curves. and fuck when he watched you pull it off, revealing the tiniest little bikini… he knew it was a wrap.

deku fucked you hard that afternoon. mina’s bathroom— butt naked with the lights on.

he had you bent over the counter with one hand covering your mouth and the other gripping your wrists behind your back. thick cock pounded your poor cunny that was already swollen and puffy from his extremely thorough prep.

deku was so whiny in your pussy. begging you to ‘take that dick, please’ and praising you for “squeezin’ (him) so perfect”.

each thrust was like having the wind knocked out of your lungs. it felt like he was nestled in your rib cage. all you could do is scream and cream on his cock while he wrecked you.

and that was that.

he filled your little pussy then licked you clean . a particularly nasty kiss was exchange fill with cum , spit and your own arousal.

the two of you exchanged numbers but of course he didn’t call. you didn’t expect him too. he’s a busy guy. a rising pro hero with a growing agency. you had no intention of making this situation more than what it was, that is until you realized your period was late.

now you had no intention of telling him. you didn’t want to tell anyone. you locked yourself in your apartment to embarrassed to venture. you probably would’ve gave birth in there had it not been for mina beating your door down to make sure that you were still alive.

she scolded you for trying to do this alone. reassuring that she would be there for you regardless. encouraging you to be brave in your new journey. and getting really excited to be an aunt.

she even helped tell deku when you were ready— which was about the beginning of the second trimester. she marched the two of you right past his secretary and into his office.

he was a bit startled at the sudden intrusion.

“ashido— oh”

seeing you was a surprise. he wanted to contact you after the … fling but time got away from him. if he wasn’t doing hero work , he was making appearances. if he wasn’t making appearances, he was sleeping. surely, you wouldn’t hold it against him ?

but then he noticed you cradling your stomach that looked slightly rounder than the last time he saw you.

his brain short circuited but only for a second. after a few deep breaths and a sip of water then he’s at your feet profusely apologizing and promising to be there every step of the way in some way shape or form.

deku makes good on that promise. he will never let you go to an appointment alone. if he can’t be there personally he’ll enlist the help of mina, and kacchan on occasion. the appointments with bakugo are always pretty fun because he tried to censor his speech for the baby.

“i don’t need that daaarn nerd on my case if his brat comes out cursing !”

deku gets so excited and invested in this baby that it’s bleeding in every aspect of his life. literally lost it when he found out that he’d be having a baby girl. he has to catch himself during interviews to keep himself from spilling too much tea about the “brand new girl” in his life.

things are great with you too ! it was easy for him to develop a friendship with you. heck you’re the mother of his child and you’ve already touched privates so is awkward small talk really necessary?

he’s rock solid. a shoulder you can cry on when things get to tough. deku will always be there to help you carry the burden. he spend the majority of the final trimester in your apartment helping out wherever he could.

and when the baby finally came— ahh! cue the water works. between him and his mother, they nearly had to evacuate the maternity ward for fear of flooding. he couldn’t help it. every time he looked at that little bundle he couldn’t help but be in awe and then he’d look at you and feel even more love because you’re the one that gave it to him.

six month in your baby girl is sitting up and babbling. rolling in her crib wearing an all might onesie and dynamight booties. she’s your twin— save for the curly green space buns and sparkling emerald eyes. easily the cutest baby in the world.

deku just wants to hold her all day. all of his spare time is spent with her. he’s barely even using his apartment at this point only going once a week to get more clothes. most of the time he’ll crash out on the floor next to the baby’s crib or on the couch with her on his tummy.

he’s just so comfortable here. a little too comfortable some might suggest.

he can’t help but bristle at the inquiries about your relationship. eye twitching when kaminari jokes about you being back on the market.

he has no reason to be upset. you’re a beautiful woman and of course there’s the potential for interested suitors but it just doesn’t sit right with him. it nags on him all day. well past the end of his shift. well past when his daughter has fallen asleep. well past when you’ve handed him his blanket and said goodnight.

he just can’t shake the sick feeling in his stomach whenever he thinks of you in another man’s arms.

so he goes to your door and allmight help him when he hears soft whimpers of his name.

“izuku~”

“right there, izu”

“s’good. so good”

and if that’s not a sign then he doesn’t know what is.

you’re embarrassed when he opens the door. cheeks hot and ears burning at his lewd gaze. he gives you no time to explain it away— kissing you passionately while tearing off the remainder of his clothes.

he doesn’t fuck you hard like he did the first time. he fucks you slow. painfully slow. he wants to learn your body. he needs to feel you. and there’s no need to rush. the two of you have all the time in the world.

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

ERrOr 0.2

Love and Deepspace Various! / Reader

《File welcomes you! Enter! ... Good Luck.》

-

Wiping down a few menus scattered around the café, you glance at the cloudy skies.

Not quite sunny, but rather plain. Reaching over to the blinds, you lower them down. Ready to close up since you had the key.

DING!

A young man wearing a familiar smile comes in, a jacket wrapped around him as hands laid in his pockets.

“...Are you still open?” He asked politely, the friendly and attitude lighting up the rather quiet cafe. 

Blinking at him, rag in hand. A somber, almost knowing grin creeps up your face. “I… Yeah, please. Come in.”

You move away from the blinds, barely having the courage to look at his handsome face. Setting yourself up at the register, you ask for his order, rag held tightly between your fingers.

He eyes the menu behind you, scanning over the titles until he settles on a few things. Two mini apple parfaits and a single coffee. 

Not even bothering to right down the order, you keep eye contact when asking for his name. Voice almost shrill as the rag becomes tatters in your grip.

“Oh! It’s Caleb.” 

-

Holding the tearful girl in your arms, you keep your mouth shut. Patting her back as she wails incoherent nonsense by your ear. 

While, you wished to tell her the truth, you knew deep down you couldn’t. The only solace you could offer in her time of sorrow were merely gestures of comfort. Hoping it would be enough to appease the both of you.

Glancing at the apple parfaits sitting on your kitchen counter, you hold MC tighter.

-

Xavier blinked at the small bunny shaped dessert, the white porcelain plate glimmering against the sun from the window. You sit in front of him as he blinks the sleep away from his eyes, his lunch barely touched.

“Hi..? Are you awake?” You smile far to chipper, blinding him more the sun rays. Expecting the fawning gaze you directed at him, his lips part into a frown.

The expression you wore was unfamiliar to him. 

“...Mn, ‘sorry.”

“It’s fine, I thought some dessert would wake you up. Don’t worry, it won’t be on your bill!” You wink.

Amused, he nods, grabbing a spoon, lightly poking at the jiggly rabbit shaped pudding. You giggle, enjoying his actions openly. Xavier relaxes a bit, forgetting the small details from before.

“Hey… Is…” You pause, biting at your lips,nervously gripping the tray.

“Hm?” He hums, his beautiful blue eyes keeping sole attention on you.

“Is MC-... I mean-! So, are you and MC doing anything later? I’m free after closing, maybe we get something to eat?” You ask hopefully, knowing you would be dismissed from the offer. You even asked Zayne a day ago if he’d like to meet up for some grub.

Not knowing the next chance, you would be able to see him out and about! Yet before he could even give an answer, he got an urgent call from the hospital. Leaving in a hurry as he grabs your notepad and pen, writing something down before placing it on the table. Leaving soon after… Checking what he wrote in such a rush … HIS NUMBER!? 

You recall skipping home, swinging the paper about joyously.

“I would-”

“FINALLY! I FOUND IT!” 

Rafayel beams, the doors bell announcing his entrance as a sweating MC follows behind. Features censored for readers! 

“YOU…!” She grits out, before gasping and making a beeline towards you. Eagerly like a cat drawn to milk. “I’m so sorry about him, (Y/N)! I’ll kick him out right now!”

Yet she makes no move to do so as she sticks to you like glue, wrapping a hand around your waist easily. She plucks the cafe tray from you.

She holds it as if she were a brave knight, the tray her shield to protect what a knight holds dear! 

Glaring at the purple haired male. “Go, shoo fishy~!” She waves him off, the merman in question scowls.

“Sorry Miss Bodyguard, but I can’t at the moment, now if you would move-” Rafeyels tone was filled with annoyance as the female hunter shakes her head.

“Excuse me, I’d like to order…” 

Blinking, you regain your bearings as MC hisses at the new voice.

“Right! Sorry! Coming right over!”

Moving out her grip, you walk over to the disguised Sylus, you follow after him like a loyal dog. 

   “Not him too..!” She grunts stubbornly under her breath, exasperated. Sighing before receiving a text from Zayne that he was about to stop by the cafe for lunch. Asking if she wanted anything.

With another reluctant sigh, she texts back.

Rafayel huffs, scanning the small cafe, before his eyes settle on the small fish doodle placed near the menu, a few other animal drawings scattered around as well.

-

{Part 1. Side Story 1. Side Story 2. Side Story 3. Side Story 4. Side Story 5.}

[To celebrate the Caleb update! A two parter! I hope you guys like this new installment, if you guys got more caleb ideas or your favs, let me know! Thanks for reading! See yall later!]

@mangooes @deputy-videogamer @yoongi-tunes @3ophelia3 @kuni-k @paledonutking @i-literally-dk @liz9898

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

a/n- 3.5k: boothill comes back to you for a tune up, but instead of his body, it's his heart that needs tending to after you scare the hell out of him [minor boothill story spoilers if you're not caught up on that jazz, but nothing major!]

warning(s)!: boothill is implied to have an artificial tech!eye and he takes it out (not descriptive tho!)

the last time boothill saw you, he was in for a cooling agent refill. it was also during that last visit when he saw that you had fixed up the small robot he had picked up on a distant planet and brought back as a gift. with your affinity for tinkering with things, he knew you'd like it. and he wasn't wrong.

it's been a month, maybe, and while that shouldn't be considered a very long time away considering his goal steeped in revenge would eventually require him to be gone for far longer- or even not come back at all- he damn missed you.

that, and the censor inside his eye has been on the fritz and well... if he can't see, he can't exactly shoot straight. he didn't need to be discharging bullets like a psychopath- he's a galaxy ranger, not some low-ringed IPC lacky who's a bit too trigger happy.

luckily, his eye wasn’t so fudged up that he couldn't see at all. the world around him was all blurs if he moves to quickly, but given the time to adjust, he's able to more or less make out what was in front of him. just don’t ask him to read anything... not that he was stellar in that department to begin with. it's like the crosshair infused with his artificial eye was out of focus or something.

boothill knows the path to your shop- that acts also as your home- like the back of his hand. someone could pluck his eye right out of his head, yet he'd still navigate his way to where you are. it was one of the few roads he has taken time and time again. he hope's it'll stay a place he can keep coming back to in health or otherwise.

stepping off his small, single-man ship after landing it near the junkyard you usually dig around in, he stumbles out of it onto the ground with a censored curse. he wishes he could land the thing closer to your shop, but he had once come in with too much a gusto and scorched a section of your lawn. once was all you needed to prohibit him from landing anywhere near the building again.

the walk from junkyard to the shop wasn't a treacherous one, hardly even a workout. still, the back of his neck just at his hair line breaks out into a cold sweat. it isn't brought on by exertion, but by the engraved instinct that something... wasn't right. something in his gut was telling him something was wrong.

boothill's learned to trust his gut.

his leisurely pace picks up to a more urgent gait and he can smell the 'something wrong' before his unfocused eye can try and see it.

it smells like smoke.

his steps falter at the disgustingly familiar scent- the smell that brings back memories he forces himself remember. memories that push him towards his goal of revenge- his goal in finding oswaldo. memories of his ruined home. he swallows thickly but it does nothing for his throat that's sudden too dry.

boothill hated fire. he's hated fire since his original name died with his family... with his daughter. since he chose to become "boothill" altogether he's abhorred fire.

he's familiar with fire. with its destruction. with its color. with its smell and heat and ruthlessness. its lack of mercy and greedy nature to swallow up anything in its path that can scorch.

the billows of smoke he could barely make out once his long, mechanical legs took him running to your shop could only be explained by fire. where was it? was it large? contained? were you inside? were you hurt? the cowboy didn't see any flames from outside, so it must not be that bad yet. you're fine. you're fine. you have to be.

all formality is left at his heels when he barges through your shop's doors. there's not much smoke in front of the shop when he enters.

"y/n! are you in here!" you don't respond to his shouts. "fudge!" god, boothill wishes he could properly curse right now. screw his synthesia beacon to hell.

the dim lights make it harder to navigate the area around him with the addition of his already busted vision, but just like the path leading him here- boothill is familiar with the inside of your home. he could walk it blindfolded and deaf.

boothill follows his nose. the smell of smoke got stronger the further back into the shop he goes. the ranger starts hearing commotion along with his narrowing down of where the fire was coming from.

clanging. some bangs. you're coughing. you're cursing.

boothill pushes open the metal door that leads into the main workshop with his shoulder. the room is always filled with all sorts of scrap metals, wiring, wielding tools, normal tools, and all sorts of other gadgets and knobs that he's sure you keep cluttered in different drawers and corners.

the smoke he saw outside floods the workshop, filtering out through the windows you had thrown open and up the chimney you don't ever use unless you need to melt down metal. the grey, sooty gas lingers high towards the ceiling. wafting around his head as soon as he enters the workshop, causing him to choke on it before his mechanical insides whirl into filtering it all out of his system.

sometimes being mostly robotic had it's perks. not choking to death on smog was always a plus.

"sugar!" he calls that familiar endearment over all the noise you're causing. the normally sweet, yet playful, nickname he's been calling you since he discovered your unbelievable sweet tooth feels sour coming out of his mouth this time. your coughing is muffled, and he can only assume it's because you're covering your mouth with a cloth or something. you better be, he hisses internally to himself.

"boothill?!" your shock is as muffled as your cough. "hold- gahk! son of a- hold on a second!" he can hear you rushing around the shop's concrete floor. "ore, did you get to the switch!" you direct your attention away from the unanticipated arrival of boothill. instead, you steer it towards the aforementioned, small robot you refurbished into new, mech-life. you had named it ore after the piece of unknown gem used as his power source.

small beeps of affirmation filter through the soot and smoke and you cough three more times into the cloth you're holding over your mouth and nose.

"flick it left!" you instruct ore. another set of beeps before the shop is bombarded with a force that's almost enough to knock boothill off his feet. the smoke was gathered quickly into a vacuum of air that soon collected all of it up then sequency shot it up and out the of chimney.

the room was basically clear now. all that's left after ore flips the switch back to the right to halt at vacuum assault is the mist of remnants that would soon find their way out the windows you intend to keep open for a good, long while.

you lower the rag from your mouth that had been used to keep smoke from invading your lungs and grimace at it. you had been previously using that rag to wipe oil from a machine you were working on. the very same machine that you had kicked a bit too roughly, causing some faulty wiring inside to shift and ignite. that bucket of broken bits was what led to this predicament in the first place!

finally, you look towards boothill. you hardly get a chance to acknowledge him properly since the moment you turn towards the doors he had come through; he was already at you.

crossing the room with urgent, quick strides, his metal arms clad in his cropped jacket and hanging red scarf wrap around your shoulders. one of his hands push against the back of your head and he doesn't care if the threads of your hair tangle into the groves of his fingers. his chin drips to rest his cheek against your crown.

his head dips so low, cheek and face pushing against your head so closely that the brim of his cowboy hat dents against your skull before falling off to the floor. it falls upside down with a soft thwomp and he can't seem to care.

"hey," you whisper in shock as you curl your arms upwards, bringing your hands to rest concerningly against his shoulders. his scarf was soft against your palm. your fingers thread through parts of his long, white and black hair that rest over his hunched back.

you've never seen him like this. not ever. you were certain that if he were completely human with a full body of flesh and blood, he'd be shaking like a leave. "boothill," you call, trying to get him to hear you.

he doesn't answer you. not verbally.

boothill shakes his head in two small shakes, somehow pushing his cheek further against the top of your head. he was taking deep breaths, taking in the smell of oil and rust and work that you always seem to be coated in. the arm around your shoulders holds you hostage and the one behind your head doesn't let your face pull even a single inch away from his neck where he keeps you.

his eye is still blurry and he still can't see properly. he needs to keep you against his body so his censors can make sure you're alive.

boothill can't 'feel' anything anymore from the neck down. the metal frame he calls his body is just that- metal. a shell that doesn't allow him to feel pain externally. so, he needs to anchor your body to him, so that all his internal do-dads can verify to his malfunction vision that you were okay.

you don't know how long boothill keeps you still like this. you don't keep track of the time. ore beeps confused and concerned once it finds its way back to the nearest tabletop closest to both of you. it's digital face with two oval, pixeled eyes that slice in half like a cartoon character's paint the expression clearly. there's even a small dash of pixeled sweat at the corner of it's 'face' that shows just how distressed it is.

eventually, boothill uncurls his arms from you, and you wince at the small strands of your hair that do end up snagged in his hands and knuckles. when you finally get away enough, you look up at him.

his face is down turned and anxious. there's a cold sweat on his cheek that's come from his hairline and slides past his ear (did he still have sweat glands?). he looks empty without his hat on, even though you should be good and well used to the sight. he often gives it to you to wear when he comes by- for whatever reason.

looking at him longer, you notice something off. with squinted eyes, you reach up and touch his cheek.

"hey, is your eye-" the cowboy jolts at the feel of your hand against his flesh and you wonder if he's sensitive to skin-to-skin contact since this small space is all he has left to experience the sensation. you go to pull your hand away, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

boothill feels you pull away and quickly stops you. his metal palm that's still warm with the heat of your body pushes against the back of your hand as he leans his face into your warm, soft palm. his bullet earring is cool against the tip of your fingers that he isn't engulfing with his hand. the eye you're so used to looking at shuts at the sensation.

"boothill?" you try again now that you've both had time to calm down. you really have never seen him act like this way. was this really the same haughty, galaxy ranger who waltzes in every few months or so because he keeps jamming his arm gun, or running low on coolant, or just to bug you?

"the fire," he says. you look behind you at the scorched pile of metal that was the sole perpetrator for the whole kit and caboodle. "are you hurt?" the synthetic twinge to his voice is more noticeable when he speaks lowly you notice.

you shake your head before answering. "no. i'm okay."

"swear it." he doesn't ask.

"i swear i'm not hurt. i didn't even inhale all that much smoke." your thumb skates under his eye as he reopens it. you almost go to your toes to look closer at it. it looks different than usual. like something about it is... wrong? "is your eye okay?"

"what caused the fire?" he completely ignores your question in lieu of his own and if he wasn't so distraught right now, you would've let him have a piece of your mind. but you don't. you can circle back around to his eye once he feels satisfied.

"an old rig i found in the junk yard. i thought if i could fix it up, it'd make a decent heater for the winter months. but, i messed it up and it blew up in my face." you pout at the loss of a project since you weren't willing to go through another fire 101 lesson any time soon. you'd dissembled the hunk of junk and place it back in the junkyard where you found it.

"so that's what is was," he sighs. hearing your explanation, his shoulders deflate, and you swear you hear his body hiss out tension. "dadgummit," he curses. "scared me shirtless. don't do that, sugar." he was calming down. thank goodness.

"sorry about that," you chuckle humorlessly, "i wasn't expecting you, so i'm sorry you had to see that."

you don't know much about boothill's past. he's told you bits and pieces, but you've never take the initiative to actively pry into it. you can tell it hurts him to recall, so you just leave it be. you know he doesn't like fire. he hates the ipc- some guy named oswaldo you think it was? he lost his family on his home planet. that's the extent of the man before 'boothill' you know for the most part.

but you were able to put two and two together. the idea of someone dying and homes being scorched must scare him.

you pull you hand from his cheek and raise it so your fingers invade the right side of his hairline. the black curtain of bangs shift with your movement as you comb through the treases once, then twice before dropping your hand again. his bangs return to their black cloaking nature to his face's right side.

"it's all okay now. isn't that right, ore?" you look over your shoulder to your small assistant robot. its concerned expression it has been favoring shifts into jolted delight as its square head nods with a series of affirmative beeps. a bright green, pixelated thumbs-up pops up on its face before disappearing into curved eyes that blink open reassuringly.

you take both of boothill's arms gently and lead him to the small sofa that's full of mismatched patches of fabric from all the patching up and repairing it's needed over the years. you let him sink into the cushions first before following, you knee touching his.

your hands find themselves in your lap, finally disconnected from boothill and he's just about sad over it. but, he was calming down. and he didn't need to cling to you like that- honestly, he's almost embarrassed over it. acting like a scared dog like that? god, he wishes he could overheat into a full system meltdown.

"feeling better?" you ask. he takes a deep breath and can taste the lingering smoke in the air. still, he nods.

"yeah," he sighs. "yeah, i am." the sound of small metal taps rush around before coming closer. looking down, ore had taken it upon itself to jump from the worktable to the floor. grabbing the brim of boothill's fallen hat, it began the mission of dragging it all the way back to its rightful owner. ore's digital eyes curve up again when boothill and you look down at it from the sofa.

you chuckle before leaning down and offering your hand with your palm up. ore steps backwards up your fingers, dragging the hat that is five times its size and hanging onto the brim as you lift it and the hat into the air. ore offers the hat back to boothill with a smile he can see better now that the little guy is closer to eye level.

the galaxy ranger accepts his hat back, flipping it over and dusting the top of it off. he didn't need his eye to work to know it was probably covered in dust from ore dragging it across the concrete floor you most certainly haven't swept yet.

"thanks, lil buddy." ore chirps happily at the praise.

you lift your arm to let ore rest on your shoulder where it takes the small carabiner you fashioned onto a small guard you wear in the shop and clasps it to his back. you made this so the robot wouldn't constantly be falling off your shoulder since it often makes itself comfortable there.

"so," you clear your throat, "about your eye." you try and get down to business now that the situation has passed. "does it need refocused?"

"sure does." if memory serves, you have a machine for autofocusing equipment around here somewhere. you lean over the back of the sofa, snagging your laptop you keep behind it on a roll away desk that way it doesn't get harmed by all your other tools or dirty by a strong pump of oil or something.

you unclasp ore from your shoulder carabiner. "could you go and find the adjustment scanner? i think it's in the toolbox drawer, top right. if not there, try two rows over." ore chirps and slides down your arm to your lap, then down your leg to the floor.

boothill can't see but can hear the little metal steps run off across the room.

"how does it get onto your tables?" he's asking partially to fill the silence, but also because he's genuinely curious. "figured you'd be cartin' the fella around everywhere."

"i usually do," you admit. "but, i did install small pully lifts with extra wiring and metal pieces i had laying around." you open your laptop and open the screen to unlock the device. "once on one of the metal pieces, ore can pull himself up manually with the designated wire."

the man chuckles at the image of you macgyvering something like that up. "you're dang cute," he chides. he can imagine you sitting on the floor, eyes squinted and leaning in so far, your spine would scream while installing those things. you don't respond. you usually don't to his passing words of flirtatious intention. whether deliberately or obliviously, he doesn't know.

soon, ore returns and hands you the piece of tech you need. hooking the scanner into your laptop, boothill can hear it whirring as the fan of your laptop kicks on to prevent any overheated crashes.

"alright," you let ore back on your shoulder and the robot hooks itself on safely via that carabiner. "let's see what's wrong."

you stare at boothill's unfocused eye. boothill looks back at the blurry image of you. you huff after a solid fifteen seconds of still silence.

"if you expect me to pop your eye out myself, guess again cowboy."

for the first time since he got there, boothill barks in laughter. oh what a mental sight that would be! it's slightly horrifying to picture having the person he's so infatuated with pluck out his eyeball thought.

boothill turns his back, a series of hisses and deep breaths later, he turns around and with his empty eye socket closed, offers you the tech eye he was installed with when he underwent his initial cyborg transformation.

it took 20 minutes and some light jabs from you- 'how did you uncalibrate it this badly?'- before the scans show a recalibrated and refocused eye. you hand it back to him before he's reconnecting it with his socket. the wires hiss and attach into place nicely.

"now that's better!" he cheers when he blinks and is able to see clearly again. he looks at you for the first real time in a month and he's never been happier to see the soot covering your nose and cheeks. oh, you're too cute.

the hat he's kept on his lap the whole process is relocated to your head the moment he could see your face and recognize it again. it plops over your skull and you sigh as- once again, he's making you wear his oh so precious hat.

"if i ask," -you flick the brim of his hat on your head- "will you tell me why you insist i wear this thing every time you're here?"

"nope," he pops his p before lifting his arms to rest his elbows on the back of your sofa. finally getting comfortable. he stares up at your ceiling. "it's a secret."

the fire made a sooty mess up there. it'll be a bitch to clean no doubt.

the hatless cowboy chuckles to himself as he hears you huff with an eyeroll. "naturally."

a/n pt.2: okay wow. this got a bit outta control. whoops? also, i didn't want to gender Ore so hopefully reading the lil guy as 'it' isn't as confusing as i think lol

[starlostseungmin]

whispers ─── lee felix.

✰ notes : first of all i'd like to announce that i reached 3k friends here! thank you so much for that and i appreciate every single one of you! <33 anyway if you watched ABOUT TIME movie, you are already familiar with this scene because it's inspired by it. i just made a bit of changes and with felix in it so i hope you guys like it (this is not proofread btw) also, please DO NOT FORGET TO REBLOG, COMMENT AND LEAVE TAGS after reading! thank you <33

✰ tags : @notastraykid , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @reignessance , @lix-ables , @skzfelixlove , @rachabreathing , @hyunverse , @minluvly , @sleepyleeji

masterlist | taglist.

felix went home a bit late that one saturday night after work. he had to see the movie he promised to watch with jeongin at the cinema. you bailed out after he invited you when he mentioned he got tickets and made a reason to sleep on a day off. he parted ways with jeongin around the block and walked home, alone. 

it was cold, he could see the smoke coming out from his mouth as his hands shoved inside the pockets of his jacketーthe stars were illuminating the dark sky with a few clouds in sight but his eyes wandered around the streets. he was supposed to take the train back to your shared apartment but didn’t want to be disrupted by noisy passengers with loud music banging their ears from their earphones and he tried to take some time to think. 

you’ve been dating for the past three years and it has been amazing. he never felt so happy and contented. the joy cannot be compared to any other things. it was that time when the two of you met at a diner just outside the office where you were working. the purpose was to grab dinner and go home then, this wonderful man showed up who had gotten the love at first sight experience. an opportunity came in and a conversation. he invited you to dates every weekend until the feelings got deeper after getting to know each other for weeks, made the relationship official with labels, and decided to live together. 

for the past three years, it was magical as it made tons of memories that you and felix couldn’t write every single one of them in your journal. the polaroids that were taken are hanging on the walls of your room with dates written on each one of them. those plushies he won for you sat on the shelves, the books being piled up being read or untouched, the albums from your favorite artists being displayed on the table along with the music player and vinyl, the flowers on the vases, the letters and other gifts you’ve exchangedーit was sweet. 

having this amazing relationship with felix is like reading a book without a synopsis or a summary from the covers or even the first pages. you don’t know what’s going to happen. it’s like living every day and there are things you cannot control. it’s either you read and go on with the story with curiosity and braveness or do not read the book at all and miss a series of events that could change your life. yet, you chose to read the book and the author created a love story you could ask for. it did change your life as well as felix’s but one thing’s for sure, there are a lot of trials on the way but it would start by holding your hands together to make a stronger bond, just like how chemical bonds create structures. 

he went inside as quietly as possible as he didn’t want to ruin your slumber. the lights were switched off in the living room and only the entrance’s light censor made him see through the dark as he removed his shoes. 

felix has thought of all the possibilities and the impossible, the rights and wrongs, the obstacles and smooth ways while walking. the consistency of this relationship must remain and be locked. he knew it wouldn’t be fancy but he promised himself that he’ll do it in a way that the two of you would prefer. and now, he’s here, looking at your sleeping figure being wrapped around that white duvet. 

“baby,” he called softly as he shook your shoulder lightlyーkneeling down on the carpeted floor of your room. 

“hmm?” you hummed in response. “five more minutes.” you muttered making him let out a soft chuckle. 

“no, baby, wake up,” he said. “i have something important to ask,” 

your eyes flutter open, from a blurry vision to a clear frame directed at his face. a smiley felix welcomed you as he caressed your hair when you were about to sit up. 

“no, just lay down,” he said. 

“okay,” you smiled. “what is it?” you asked, feeling relaxed on your soft mattress and the coziness of your pillow. 

“you know that we’re happy, right?” he paused as you nodded in response. “i don’t know if it’s the movie i watched with jeongin that made me feel this way, it's always the romance genre that would hit me to reality and the thought that i always have you by my side—” he added when you put your index finger on his lips, hearing a piece of romantic music playing gently from the living room as it echoes through the open door of your room. 

“is that romantic music?” you asked. “and you’re on your knees while saying something that i doubt is not just a love confession,” you added while fighting to stay awake which felix laughed shyly. 

“yeah,” he said, licking his lower lip in embarrassment. “i am,” 

“go on,” you smiled. 

“will you marry me?” he asked which made your smile bigger and now you’re fully awake. 

“i think,” you paused, clearing your throat. “i’m going to say, yes to that,” you added, looking at him in awe, saying; “and thank you for doing this that does not involve a lot of people and other crowds. i don’t like many people,” 

felix smiled gently and placed a soft kiss on your lips before tracing his fingers on your cheeks, “i also don’t like people,” he said. “thank you for saying yes,” he whispered before leaning forward to kiss you again. 

“i love you, darling,” you said in between. 

“i love you more,” he answered. “get back to sleep, alright? i’ll join you in 10,” 

“okay,” you said softly as he smiled, leaving a kiss on your forehead before exiting the room shushing han and seungmin for playing the instruments he asked for support outside. 

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[trippinsorrows]

in your hands + three

authors note: ya'll been on me for this, so here it is. hope it lives up to expectations!

need to catch up? read part one HERE and part two HERE.

warnings: fluff and a tiny bit of smut

words: 8k (again, don't ask)

“I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” Solana confesses. “I mean, it’s just….it’s just dinner, ya know?”

Kayden lifts her eyes from Raya who continues to grasp at her ombre braid, staring with all the fascination in her little world. “Seriously?”

Solana frowns. “What?”

“Just a date?” Kayden scoffs and grabs onto Raya who’s suddenly intent on crawling away from her godmother to further explore the apartment that’s essentially her second home. “Sis, need I remind you that man blew your back out and had you speaking six other languages?”

Solana looks away, heat rising to her cheeks. “I didn’t…..I didn’t say all that.” 

“You didn’t have to.” A glance at Kayden reveals her knowing smirk. “That walk the next day told me all I needed to know.”

And the blush is increasing. Solana can’t deny it. Roman’s dick is huge, and in the moment, it felt amazing, but her soreness the next day certainly did not. Not enough to not try again if given the opportunity. No….not at all.

“Naw, but forreal, you’re nervous because of this adorable lil’ munchkin right there,” Kayden gestures to Raya who’s given up on her great escape attempt and has settled for one of her toys as a means for passing time. “It is pretty….interesting that he said it was cool for you to bring her.”

Solana has a feeling that interesting is not the word Kayden really wants to use. “You think it’s weird?”

She shakes her head. “Not that. It’s just…..I guess, I’m not used to seeing that,” she admits. “I feel like most men don’t want to give women with kids the time of day.”

Solana nods, adjusting her position on the sofa. “I agree.” She groans and finds herself asking, “should I just cancel?”

Kayden gasps. “Absolutely not! I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it.” Carefully grabbing Raya as she moves to stand up, Solana is reminded, “didn’t you say you really like him?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“And the S-E-X was great?”

The blush deepens, Solana low key grateful for Kayden censoring herself. “Y–yes.”

“And he already knows about my goddaughter and is cool with her? And the nigga rich, too?” She slaps her hand over her mouth, making an ‘I’m sorry’ expression before finishing. “You better not cancel. Just go and see how it goes. Maybe the vibes are off, or maybe you’ve found Raya her new daddy.”

Solana is the one to scoff, laying back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. “Yeah right.”

One

Solana only has a single regret when it comes to her baby girl, and it’s simply that Raya was not blessed with a father. 

An actual father who wanted to be in her life. 

If only. 

Roman could never be or even want to be that. Of that, she’s sure. He’s rich, handsome, and childless. Why would he ever want to take on the responsibility of a child he didn’t make?

She can fully understand that and doesn’t fault him for it, either.

Can only give him a tremendous amount of credit for being open to seeing where things go with them while just acknowledging that Raya comes first in everything.

He truly seemed fine with it when he took her home and they discussed it just earlier in the week, and he’s seemed fine in all of the text exchanges they’ve had since.

She just….she just needs to, like he said, see where this goes.

If anywhere. 

—-----------

Having a best friend like Kayden is useful for so many reasons, including when it comes to situations like this where Solana feels overwhelmed and out of her league. 

The two of them, three including Raya who’s being held by her godmother, currently sit outside on the steps of Solana's apartment complex waiting for Roman who’d texted about ten minutes ago that he was on his way.

Ten minutes that have been filled with anxiety and a back and forth dialogue playing out in Solana’s head. 

Blowing out a breath, she finds herself seeking reassurance once more. “Are you sure this is a good id—”

“Ladies.” 

An instant scowl that’s shared across three sets of faces, including Raya’s.

Solana is almost wishing they’d opted for staying inside her place versus sitting and waiting outside. She should have known it was too risky, too big of a chance of running into the very man standing before her.

Carmelo Hayes. Resident Casanova. A handsome, attractive man, all things considered, compared to some other unfortunate men she’s come across. But, the attraction is dead as soon as he opens his mouth revealing that no one loves Carmelo Hayes as much as Carmelo loves Carmelo Hayes.

He slides his sunglasses down, shooting Solana a wink. “Neighbor.” And then a reluctant glance at Kayden, followed by a lazy murmur of her name and a wide, yet awkward smile to Raya. “Sup, lil bit.”

As she does with most interactions regarding the man, Raya’s scowl deepens as she turns her face into Kayden’s chest.

Kayden snorts, not trying to hide her telling comment, “smart kid.”

Clearing her throat, Solana does her best with the pleasantries. “Hi, Carmelo.”

“What ya’ll sitting out here for?” He leans against the wall, eyes briefly falling to Solana’s chest. “Your car still broke?”

“Is your hairline still uneven?”

“I wasn’t talking to you, Ursula.”

“It is,” Solana cuts in, not in the mood for their back and forth. One drunken night between her best friend and her neighbor that ended in a verbal assault from and on both sides, and these two haven’t seen eye to eye since. A forever feud that’s destined to last the test of time, given the fact it literally happened when they were all still in high school.

Because, of course, the “pretty boy” from high school who never looked her way would one day, someday end up being her neighbor. 

Life is just ironic like that. 

He makes a sound, offering, “you know I could fix it up for you.”

She has no doubt. Solana has heard that Carmelo, "Melo," is pretty good at what he does at the local car shop, his mechanic work known as some of the best in town. But, she also knows it wouldn't come without an expectation. She knows that his offer definitely involves going through his job for compensation, maybe using his employee discount, and definitely requiring a date to top it all off.

And when hell freezes over will she ever go out with this man. Even if he wasn’t under the impression that he’s God’s gift to women, Raya has never seemed to take to him, her little mouth either shifting to a frown or a scowl. Nothing else.

And her daughter’s response to people in her life, especially men, will always be the number one indicator for who she lets around them. 

“I’m working on it,” is all Solana supplies, shifting on the steps as she sees Kayden switch Raya from one hip to another.

Carmelo, forever dedicated, is undeterred by the soft rejection. “Come on, I know you gotta be tired of riding that raggedy ass bus with lil' mama.”

Very much so, but given her options, it’s definitely the better of them. “It gives us more time to bond.”

Because it does. Because holding her baby girl while on the way to work or to drop her off at her mom’s is a sort of one-on-one time that Solana appreciates. Will give the bus credit for that much, at least. 

“Why can’t you just take no for an answer?”

“Why can’t you grow your own hair?” Melo sneers. “Been rocking them locs since we was teenagers. It’s time to let shit go.”

“Why can’t you grow a bigger dick?” Kayden counters. Solana’s eyes widen as she focuses on her daughter, oblivious to the inappropriate things being stated but still exposed, nonetheless. “Been bragging about that Vienna sausage since we was kids. Accept you a micro-man, and keep it pushing.”

“Guys,” Solana sighs. Yeah….definitely should have stayed inside. “Please—”

Solana is distracted by the moment her eyes land on a sleek, shiny, black SUV pulling up to the front of the building where they’re all sitting. A fucking Range Rover. Most likely the most expensive thing to ever grace her regular shmegular apartment complex. 

And the mesmerized staring continues as the car pulls up in front of the group of them, Solana already knowing who’s about to get out before he does. But even that knowing can’t stop the way her stomach fills with butterflies seeing him step out the car that costs more than some houses. 

Butterflies that only intensify when her eyes land on him, an almost slow motion type of experience as he circles around the front of the car, dressed in dark jeans, a dark jacket draped over, of course, a dark shirt. Black sunglasses that he slides up atop his head, revealing warm brown eyes that are focused on her, only to harden when he shifts focus to Melo.

Solana is thoroughly aware of the shift in mood, seeing how Melo straightens his posture, as if that makes a difference. Roman is huge and towers over all of them, Melo included.

Moving off the steps, Solana walks over to Roman, smile growing as she looks up at him. “Hey.”

Her voice seems to break Roman from his unspoken stand-off with Carmelo. Solana does her best to remain calm as he bends down and kisses her. Nothing intense, nothing long, but enough to have her craving his soft lips on hers once more when he pulls away with a small smirk. “Hey, baby.”

Her eyes widen. 

Baby.

Lord Jesus, be a fence.

A part of her is unsure if he says it just to fuck with Melo. Another part doesn’t care regardless because being called as such from him, with that deep voice, is enough to have those butterflies fluttering all over.

Kayden clearing her voice drags Solana back down to reality as she focuses on her best friend and daughter. “This is my best friend and Raya’s godmother, Kayden.” Kayden steps closer to avoid Roman having to move, holding Raya with one arm as she offers her hand. Roman introduces himself, followed by his gaze shifting to Raya. “And you already know this one.”

“I do,” he chuckles, eyes softening a bit. “Hi, Raya.”

Raya’s response to Roman is night and day from her response to Melo. She still has her face in Kayden’s chest, but she’s not turned away from the man before her. She’s looking at him with a smile, eyes twinkling with curiosity. 

Kayden snorts, loudly exclaiming, “looks like it’s just you, Hayes, that baby Raya doesn’t fuck with.”

“Kayden.”

Roman turns back to Melo with an uninterested expression that contrasts his question. “Who are you?”

“The annoying, irrelevant neighbor.”

Solana feels stressed already, and the outing hasn’t even begun. “Kayden, please.”

“Carmelo Hayes,” he responds, subtly—or not so subtly—rolling his shoulders. “Been knowing them since high school.”

Solana frowns. What is he trying to imply? Certainly not friendship. Carmelo is many things, but someone she considers a friend is not one of them.

“He lives on the first floor,” Solana provides, hoping it’s an indirect but efficient way to clarify his role, per se. 

Roman makes a sound, that smirk returning as he rolls his eyes at the shorter man. Focused on her, he asks, “ya’ll ready?”

Solana nods, suddenly appreciative of the opportunity to get out of this situation. She gestures to the car seat sitting on the steps. “Yeah, let me just get this set up.”

Roman moves to open the backdoor as Solana grabs the car seat, securing it in the backseat of one of the nicest cars she’s ever seen, briefly stunned by the screens on the back of the passenger and driver headrest. 

“Damn….” Shaking her head, Solana gives a tug on the car seat, ensuring it’s ready before walking over to Kayden. “Come here, baby girl.” Raya is all the willing and wanting as she reaches over, giggling when Solana holds her and kisses her cheek. “Time to go for a ride.”

Raya makes an incoherent sound of excitement as Solana starts to buckle her in, Kayden right by her, speaking in a low voice, “girl, you didn’t say he was that damn fine.” Solana bites down on her bottom lip, watching how Raya also looks around the sleek black and red interior with all the amazement. “Marry him.”

Solana has to roll her eyes at that.

Like that would ever happen.

“Give me her bag,” she requests, Kayden handing over Soraya’s diaper bag. Placing it on the floor in front of Raya, Solana smiles, “ready to go?” Raya claps and wiggles her little legs, making both women laugh. 

Turning toward Roman, Kayden playfully elbowing her side, Solana shares. “Ready.”

Roman nods, sliding his sunglasses back down, speaking to Kayden first. “It was nice meeting you.” He moves over to the passenger door, opening it for Solana. She carefully closes Raya’s door, holding back a smile when Kayden makes a sound.

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine,” Kayden responds in that knowing tone, while Solana slides into the seat. Roman makes sure she’s all the way in before closing the door. Out the window, Solana catches the haughty smirk Roman directs toward Melo before circling the front of the car and climbing in. 

Solana jumps when Kayden taps on the window. It takes a minute for her to figure out how to roll down the window, but when she does, it’s instant regret. “Just so you know, I have her location as well as a tracker on baby girl’s clothes. Try to kidnap either of them, and I’ll have the FBI on your doorstep before the 6 o’clock news even has a chance to run the story.”

“Kayden!”

While Solana is filled with embarrassment, Roman seems only amused. “Noted,” is all he states before adding, “I’ll have them back at a decent time.”

“What is your definition of decent?”

“Oh my gosh,” Solana scrambles to find the button again, starting to roll up the window. “Goodbye, Kayden.”

Roman only continues to look amused as he asks, right after Kayden calls out another goodbye, “you good?”

“Yeah,” she answers, putting on her seatbelt.

Gaze back on him, she sees him glance at Raya through the rearview mirror. “You want to put something on for her?”

It takes a second for Solana to realize he’s referring to the screens in the backseat. “No, she’s fine. She loves car rides, so all you have to do is start driving, and she’ll be entertained.” A true blessing, as Solana is well aware many babies don’t do well in the car. Not Raya. Raya could spend the rest of her little life riding in a car and be just as content. 

“Got it,” he chuckles, starting the car and starting to pull out of the parking lot. “You look good.”

A compliment that has her cheeks tinged pink. “Thanks.” Shifting in her seat, she shares, “I didn’t really—I didn’t really know what to wear.”

Because it’s a date, sure, but it’s a non-traditional date. A sexy dress would be too much, and jeans would be not enough. Thus, her settling on a normal dress, covered with a cardigan and some sandals. 

Roman takes his eyes off the road only for a second to give her a quick one over. “You chose well.” The pink deepens as she contemplates returning the compliment when he speaks again, “we gotta stop at the mall before the grocery store. Macy’s, apparently.”

Solana is rightfully confused. “Oh. W–why?”

“Gonna be honest with you, I’m not much of a cook. At all. So, it was only this morning I realized I don’t have any pots and shit for you to cook with. I asked my cousin’s wife where to get that stuff, and she suggested Macy’s.”

His explanation both does and doesn’t make sense. “Roman, you don’t have to go buy anything. I could have just brought some of my pots and pans over.” That would be significantly easier and make a lot more sense, considering it sounds like this man has zero desire to use said pots and pans after today. “Plus, pots can be….expensive.”

Especially at a department store like Macy’s.

At that, he reaches his hand over, placing it on her thigh, giving a light squeeze. “Money is never an issue.” She swallows, partially distracted by his big hand on her leg. It’s such an innocent thing that shouldn’t affect her as much as it does. “Not when you’re with me.”

With him. 

She’s not with him though. Not…..not in the traditional sense.

He doesn’t seem to be acting like that though.

“But—”

“Relax.” The deep timbre of his voice is insanely soothing, conjoined with his thumb moving across the material of her dress. “I’ve got this.”

He certainly does, it seems. 

—-------

A part of Solana wishes that Roman had given her a heads up about the extra stop, because she might have taken Raya’s stroller. Truthfully, her baby girl is kind of on the smaller side, weighing just about 15lbs, so it’s no issue to carry her around the store. It’s just the wiggly phase Raya is in that has her having to continue to hold Raya’s tiny stuffy, using it to entertain her at times.

Thankfully, Roman is very much to the point, easily asking a sales associate where the cookware is. He walks them over to said section, finding yet another associate—he seems to be good at seeking people out—asking for the “best” set of pots they sell. And at that, Solana’s eyes widen.

“Roman,” she whispers harshly, Raya pulling at the top of her dress, something that seems to put a small smile on his face. “Do you—do you have any idea how expensive a pot collection can be?”

He shrugs, answering calmly as they follow the associate through the section. “No. Don’t care either.”

That only widens her eyes even more. “We’re talking potentially thousands of dollars.”

Again, this man looks so unbothered. “And?” He stops, turning to her with a focused gaze. “Solana, I don’t think you understand how ri—”

“Mama!”

Raya’s interjection pulls the focus from the topic of expensive ass pots and pans to a kids toy someone clearly placed down after deciding to not get it. A musical, interactive teddy bear with floppy pink ears and clothes that’s clearly captured Raya’s attention.

Solana has to hold her daughter a bit tighter as she starts wiggling and whining in an attempt to grab the toy.

“Raya, no,” she scolds lightly, switching her to the other arm to widen the distance. Raya is irritated by that, whining yet again as she pushes on Solana’s chest. “I said no, Mija.”

“No!” She shouts back one of the few words she knows, an expression that makes Roman move to grab the toy, holding it in front of her. 

“This what you want?” He asks, smile returning yet again. Raya’s scowl shifts to a wide grin as she grabs for the toy, squeezing the hand which causes kids instrumental music to play. Raya is suddenly a clapping, giggling child, making Solana feel slightly bad as she says to Roman in a low but firm voice.

“Roman, no. I don’t even know how much it is,” Solana argues, very well aware that the price really doesn’t matter, because she truly does not have any extra money to splurge on a toy. On anything, really. Every single dollar is spoken for. 

“Doesn’t matter.” Roman shrugs, supplying, “she wants it, so I’ll get it for her.”

Solana’s stomach drops. “Roman, you don’t have to do—”

“Solana, it’s fine. It’s a kid’s toy. Not a big deal,” he says it so casually, taking her by surprise yet again as he starts to pry the stuffy from out of the box, ensuring none of the tiny plastic things are on said stuffed animal. He hands it back to Raya who doesn’t hesitate to grab it, Solana using her hand to help hold it up as a babbling Raya is fully immersed in her latest toy.

His gaze lingers on Soraya with a hint of curiosity and a lot of amusement before he grabs the box and finds where the associate has been silently waiting and watching the whole exchange. 

Solana is still trying to process said exchange, still trying to grasp how easily and kindly Roman just acquiesced to the most random of things. But beyond that, how he’s gone along with everything so….easily. No irritation or frustration at having a baby tag along with them, a baby he plans to buy a toy for just because she was getting fussy at not having it. 

And now he’s following the associate who’s carrying a box of Viking pots. Solana moves over to him, trying to not think too much into his kindness. “Roman, Viking is an expensive brand.”

“I asked for the best, because that’s what I get. I get what I am, Solana,” he answers. Solana gasps a little when he walks past her, slapping her ass in the process. “Come on.”

Still flustered by it all, she follows wordlessly as he guides them to the register where she learns the damn toy that Raya continues to interact with is freaking $34.00. She’s never paid that much for a toy.

But, that $34.00 is nominal compared to the $3,340.00 that pops up when the 12 piece set of pots are scanned.

“Oh my God.” Her anxiety is spiked at just the thought of Roman dropping that kind of money. Meanwhile, he’s already pulling out his wallet at the total that’s close to $3.700.00.  “Roman, please, you don’t—”

He ignores her, handing over his black card without a care in the world, as she tries to not have a panic attack in the middle of this department store.

How rich is this man?

Not even in her dreams can she imagine dropping so much on something that’ll only be used once. Maybe he’ll return them afterwards?

For some reason, though, Roman doesn’t strike her as that type of man. The type to purchase and return before the credit card statement balance updates.

If he even checks that. 

“Thank you,” he says, taking the large bag that contains the box of pots as well as the now empty box that Raya’s stuffed animal was in. He looks between mother and daughter, asking, “ready?”

Solana is still silenced by the opulent display before her, only able to nod. Roman stops, however, suddenly turning to her to ask, “what are you going to do with her while you cook?”

That’s an easy answer. “I’m just gonna hold her.”

He looks perplexed. “While you cook?”

Now, it’s Solana’s turn to chuckle. “I’m a single mom, Roman. Multitasking is all I do.”

Because it is. Because she’s more or less mastered the art of holding her daughter while completing a variety of tasks, especially cooking. 

If only that worked for the man before her. “Naw.” He shakes his head, motioning for her to follow him in the direction they just came from. 

“Wait, what are you doing?” Roman doesn’t answer her, just walks up to the same associate who checked them out and issues a question.

“Where’s the baby section?” 

“Roman!” 

Her voice is louder than she anticipated but enough to get him to offer a plain explanation. “We’ll just pick up a couple things. Enough so you don’t have to hold her the whole time.” Solana opens her mouth to protest, to explain that what’s not a big deal is her just keeping Raya on her hip. But, he’s already following the associate, thus leaving her rushing to catch up with him.

Realizing Roman is a man who doesn’t seem to take no for an answer when his mind is made up, Solana aims for some level of compromise, pleading, “not a lot, okay?”

His smile is genuine but his eyes twinkle with mischief. "Okay. Not a lot."

—---------

Turns out rich people have very different definitions of “a lot” compared to the rest of society. 

Thousands.

By the time they finish not only at Macy’s but the grocery store, Roman has spent close to $4,000.00 dollars. $4,000.00 on a variety of items, many of which are unnecessary, a lot of which are for Raya.

Random toys, a play mat, a high chair, a floor seat, a baby lounger and toys that Raya most certainly doesn’t need, as she has all of that back in Solana’s apartment. Something Solana does her best to explain to Roman, but it seems it goes in one ear and out the other. 

A mixture of several emotions, Solana isn’t sure what to make of Roman’s financial kindness and generosity. A part of her wonders if he’s expecting something in return, something she’s not opposed to, per se, but would like to be because they just desire each other in that way versus him using sex as payment.

Though something tells her Roman isn’t that type. Because someone who looks and even fucks like him could get any woman he wanted. She has no doubt about that. He doesn’t need to try to bribe someone like her, a single mother, for sex.

He can get that without even trying from quite literally anyone else.

Thus, that leaves her with the belief that this man might be one of the kindest she’s ever encountered. 

And that, she also doesn’t know what to make of. 

Walking back into the spacious living room after changing Raya in one of Roman’s bathroom, a bathroom that’s about what and what with her actual apartment, she finds him lounged on the sofa. He’s got one arm resting atop the sofa, phone in the other hand as he focuses on the screen. 

Solana quietly steps in, moving to the floor, close to the sofa where he’s lounging but needing to be close to Raya who seems to want to explore every single bit of the massive penthouse despite the makeshift playroom that is Roman’s living room from all the stuff he got her.

Roman is quick to lock his phone, tossing it beside him as he compliments, “dinner was delicious. You can cook your ass off.”

Briefly tearing her eyes from Raya, Solana looks down and pushes some hair behind her ear. “Thank you.” Clearing her throat and pleased to see Raya crawl over to the play may where she starts hitting at the dangling toys, Solana looks back over at Roman and shares, “I love to cook.”

“I can tell.” His gaze is focused solely on her, an intimidating thing in some ways. “How’d you learn?”

“My mom,” she smiles, reflecting and elaborating. “My mom loves to cook too, so it’s just something she taught me and my sister.” Leaning back into the sofa and angling her body more towards him, she adds, “and my Uncle Booker, too. He owns a restaurant out in Georgia, and I’d visit him sometimes during the summer when I was younger, so he taught me how to make soul food, and my mom taught me how to make Mexican food.” The best of both worlds, in many ways. “You really don’t know how to cook? Like, at all?”

“I can do some things,” he says with a shrug. Solana makes a face, prompting him to ask, “what?”

Biting on her lip to hold back an amused smile, she points out, “it didn’t seem like it.” Roman rolls his eyes as she pulls up receipts. “Roman, you couldn’t even crack the eggs.”

“That’s cause they’re too damn small. I have big hands.” She giggles at the almost petulant scowl on his handsome face. “Besides, I have people who do that for me.”

“Cook?”

“Yeah.”

She nods, remembering him mentioning his private chef. Must be nice. “Well, I don’t cook as much as I’d like to, but you’re always welcome to join us for dinner when I do, though I might have to make a bigger portion size.” Because the man has the appetite of a group of middle school boys. Granted, with someone his size, he must have to eat a lot to keep in shape. 

A perfect shape.

“Why don’t you?”

“Cook more?”

“Yeah.”

A lot of reasons, only some of which she feels like sharing. “I’m just so busy.” She gestures to Raya who is now holding onto the stuffed bunny that was the first of many purchases by Roman for her. “And this one doesn’t eat much of it anyway, couple on how expensive groceries are, it’s just not worth it, ya know?”

He nods. “Well, you can come over here and cook for me anytime.” She smiles, as his simmering gaze intensifies on her. “Or just come over, period.”

Solana’s voice lowers, her tone slightly teasing. “A foodless visit?”

“I love the food.” Their eyes lock. “But, I like you more.” And the heavens are on her side, because before she can freak out at such a bold statement, overthink what his actions continue to indicate, he changes the subject a bit. “But, I gotta ask…..the neighbor?”

“Carmelo?” Solana can’t even hide the disgust in her face at just the thought of that man. “Absolutely not. Never.” Raya wobbles over to her, Solana pulling her baby girl against her as Raya starts to reach over for yet another toy. “He’s just…..he doesn’t know how to take no for an answer.”

It’s not missed upon Solana how Roman’s disposition shifts into something more serious. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs, gently caressing Raya’s back. “He’s asked me out, directly and indirectly, over the past couple months, and it seems all of my creative ways of telling him no don’t seem to register.” Solana rolls her eyes and shakes her head, adding, “it’s fine though. He’s harmless. Just egotistical.”

Roman doesn’t say anything, but Solana can see it. Can see the wheels in his head turning. “I’m sure he’ll get the hint soon enough.”

If only. “Maybe.” She scoffs, Raya showing and babbling about the toy in her hand. Solana smiles softly, speaking to Roman while watching her daughter. “It’s ironic. He never paid me any attention when we were in high school, and I was on the dance team, so we would travel together sometimes with the basketball team. Never looked twice at me. Now, I’m 26 with a baby, and he won’t leave me alone.”

Something flashes in Roman’s eyes that seems to contrast with the curious nature of his question. “You were a dancer?”

She nods. “Since I was six.” 

Roman tilts his head, asking, “do you still do it?”

And, he notices instantly the shift in her demeanor. The way her gaze shifts downward, almost awkwardly. “No,” she finally answers, voice almost sad and distant “Not….not anymore.”

Right away, Roman can sense it, see that there’s a story there. A story that wields some level of hurt and pain. It makes him almost regret even asking anything in the first place.

Solana suddenly gasps and asks, “shit, what time is it?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, pulling out her phone to see the time that reads quarter to 7. “I forgot, I have to make a business call.” She bites on her lip, gaze moving to Raya and then back at him. “Can you watch her right quick? It won’t take long. I prom—”

“Solana, it’s fine,” he assures, nodding in the direction of the terrace. “You can take it out there if you’d like.”

She seems appreciative of both his agreement as well as the offer for privacy. “Thank you.” Solana climbs to her feet, Raya’s little eyes moving to her mom, as she shares, “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Raya doesn’t say anything, just watches Solana walk out of the living room and onto the terrace. It’s only when the doors shut and she’s out of Raya’s view that the baby starts to make noise. “Mama….” It’s a soft exclamation, conjoined with her climbing onto her feet and starting to slowly waddle in that direction.

“Hey,” Roman moves to the edge of the couch, ready to block her path, if need be. “She’s coming back, okay?”

He’s unsure if his words actually provide any sort of comfort or a type of distraction, because Raya is suddenly moving over to grab a book on the floor that came with one of the toys he got her. 

His eyes are glued to her, recognizing in being around her for the day how mobile she can be. A normal, expected thing, according to Solana. 

Book still in hand, Raya waddles her way over to him, offering said book. “Is that for me?” She makes a loud sound that makes him smile a bit. “Thank you.”

She smiles loud and proud, suddenly looking up at him and reaching her arms up, her next request unmistaken.

Roman tenses a bit, suddenly unsure of himself. For the most part, interactions with Solana’s daughter have been easy, because it’s quite simple to see a kid’s face light up at an item, only for that light to intensify when they receive said item. It was mostly Solana who engaged with her as she sat in the high chair he’d picked up from Macy’s while they (mostly Solana) cooked. And even as she’d made his living room a bit of a playroom, that was mostly just a lot of watching to make sure she didn’t get anything, from both himself and Solana.

However, this is the first time such direct interaction would occur, and he’s mostly taken back how Raya is the one initiating and asking for it.

He’s clearly taking too long, Raya starting to babble and scowl, one little hand hitting his leg. He gives her a look that brings the smile back and has her reaching once more. 

Roman chuckles. The kids is definitely determined, that’s for certain.

Pushing against the lingering discomfort, he yields. “Alright.” Roman moves the book to the other side of him and leans down to pick her up, settling her down on one of his thighs. “Better?”

Her answer is another loud sound that’s a mixture of a giggle and shout. It makes his smile widen ever so slightly. Roman’s only experience with kids has been Jey’s wild bunch of offspring and Aniyah, Jimmy and Naomi’s lil comedian of a daughter. But even with that minimal experience, there’s something different about Raya. 

She is every bit her mother’s daughter, the spitting image of Solana, but beyond that, she has her mother’s softness and kindness about her. Even at such a young age, her aura is warm and welcoming. 

It’s…..different.

Soraya is shifting on his lap, her little head turning until she spots the book and reaches for it. 

Roman helps her out, handing it to her, continuing to watch and study how her eyes focus on the book as little fingers pry it open to a random page. She’s then pointing and “talking,” looking up at him.

“What is that?” Roman also points to the drawing, explaining to her, “that’s a dog.” He jumps a bit as she makes another loud sound for no reason. This time, he laughs a little as well. She has so much personality for such a young child. “You like dogs?” No response this time as she tires of said page and starts moving to the rest of them, easily growing bored, eventually knocking the book to the floor.

Roman sucks his teeth, playfully chastising her, “why you gotta be throwing stuff, huh?” Raya’s response is a loud yawn as she looks around, shifting once more on his lap. He moves his hand to her back, providing an extra layer of security as she stands up on his lap. He tenses yet again as she extends her arms, as if reaching and trying to hug him, clearly wanting to be held.

Another moment of uncertainty, because damn, Roman has never felt so out of his league and unsure of himself. Raya sitting on his lap, wanting to sit on his lap is one thing, but her wanting to be traditionally held is another.

It’s been years since he’s held a baby. And while Raya is not a baby baby, she’s still a tiny little thing. 

But, it’s when she starts to whine against him that Roman feels almost compelled to comply, moving both arms around her as her little arms go around his neck, her face on his shoulder. 

What the fuck?

He’s the last person in the world he’d expect any child to gravitate towards, but this little girl….the way she yawns once more against him and feels so….at ease in his arms…..he doesn’t know what to make of it.

What to make of any of it.

Just knows that he can feel the discomfort on him melting away at the same time he feels the subtle rise and fall of her chest against him. 

Almost….almost peaceful.

The sound of footsteps alerts him to Solana’s return. She looks flustered and stressed, but it shifts into an almost look of guilt, as she starts apologizing, “oh my God, I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” he answers, honestly. 

Solana moves over and crouches down in front of them. “She must be getting sleepy. She likes to be held when she’s tired.” Solana is careful in the way she takes Raya into her arms, murmuring something in Spanish and kissing her temple. Gaze back to Roman, she says, almost sadly, “I should get her back home….”

Her statement breaks Roman from this strange mental space finds himself in. Shaking his head, he clears his throat, “yeah, of course.”

Solana offers a small smile, looking around the room. “I can lay her down for a few minutes to clean—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismisses. “I can do it when I get back.”

“Roman, no, I can’t just leave this here—”

“Solana, it’s fine,” he interrupts, explaining as she straightens up and he stands from the sofa. He can just move most of the items into one of his guest rooms, but not everything. Roman already knows a couple of the toys Raya would probably want to have at home, especially the teddy bear. 

He noticed she seemed to really like that one the most of them all. 

“Okay,” Solana finally agrees with a defeated sigh, eyes shifting a bit as she stammers, “do you….do you have something to do later?”

Roman looks at her with a quizzical expression. “No. Why?”

Obvious hesitation, as she nervously licks her lips. “It….it only takes me about half an hour to get her down for bed, so if you want to stick around so we can…..talk, we—we can do that.”

His smirk is unavoidable, Roman already feeling a tightening in his pants at the visual of them talking.

Warm gaze raking in over her body, imagining her naked and wanton on top of him, his reply is an easy one. “We can talk all night, if you want.”

—---------

As Roman sits on the sofa in Solana’s apartment, waiting for her to get Raya down for bed, he finds himself catching up on some work shit that’s transpired while he was spending the day with the mother and daughter duo.

Nothing serious. Nothing his sister and Wise Man couldn’t handle for the time being, though she loathed the vague answer he gave her when she asked why he’d been MIA all day. Not surprising. 

Rosalia has always disliked being kept out of the loop.

A necessity though, as Roman wants to keep Solana as far away from that as long as possible. 

Raya, too, for that matter. 

And in thinking about keeping people away, Roman finds himself sending out a text to one of his good, longtime friends and hitman. 

Roman: Carmelo Hayes. Spring Hills apartments. Building 2. 

Dean Ambrose: Yo. What ya wanting done?

What Roman wants and what he can realistically have done right now are two different things, because what he’d like is to find this bastard’s apartment himself and be the one to see to it that he never bothers Solana again. 

Ever. 

Or anyone, for that matter.

But, that’s too risky, too soon. He, himself, can’t make such a bold move.

Not yet, anyway.

So, he’ll have to settle for a simple, or not so simple, beating. 

Roman: Fuck him up. Don’t kill him, but something close.

Dean Ambrose: You got it, dude. 

Roman chuckles, imagining the childlike excitement in Ambrose's eyes at the chance to act on his sadistic, violent impulses. A true treat for the eccentric man.

The next thing on his list is arranging to have a security detail patrolling Solana's apartment complex at all times. Another trailing her outings to work and elsewhere.

He won't take any risks regarding the safety of mother nor daughter.

Roman also utilizes the time to message his driver, informing him to be ready to come pick him up in two to three hours, because the Tribal Chief has every intention of leaving the keys to the Range Rover in Solana’s apartment.

She doesn’t need to be taking the damn bus. Especially not with Raya. It’s too dangerous. 

He’d just pay to get her car repaired for her, but there’s something he likes better about her driving his car. A possessive thing, he might even admit. With good intentions, though. 

Always.

“Hey.”

Solana pulls him from his thoughts as well as his focus on the phone in his hand. She’s standing before him with an almost nervous expression. 

Roman sits forward, tossing his phone to the side. Beckoning her over with his finger, his eyes don’t leave her as she climbs onto his lap, dress raised as she straddles him. He needs a distraction from the fact that clothes are the only thing keeping that part of him from that part of her. “She sleep?”

Solana nods. “When she’s tired, she taps out pretty quickly.”

That makes sense, Roman thinks. Baby girl was almost entirely knocked out just in the few minutes he held her. 

“Roman…..” Her hands move to the bottom of his shirt. “I really did enjoy today. It’s….it’s the nicest day I’ve had in a while.”

He agrees, wholeheartedly, but there’s something underneath said statement. “But?”

She closes her eyes, asking in a small voice. “How is this supposed to work?”  

He doesn’t hesitate to seek clarification. “What do you mean?”

She takes a deep breath. “I’m okay with us having sex. I want that, but….it’s hard for me to understand you being so nice and generous to me, and even Raya, and not feel like the sex is….payment of some sort.” Eyes opening, she starts to shake her head, “because if that’s the case—”

“It’s not,” he cuts her off, tone almost hardened as he moves his hands up her back. “Everything I did for you today, for Raya, was because I wanted to. And not because I was expecting anything in return. I told you that before.”

“I wanna believe that, but….” She pushes back some of her hair, further explaining, “it’s just that most men don’t—”

“I’m not most men.” Not even in the slightest. In ways she could probably never fully understand. “But, I am very interested in you. I told you that before, too. That I wanted to see where this goes, and I don’t know about you, but so far, I think it’s going pretty damn well.”

Because, it is. There was something both relaxing and rewarding. Spending the day with her. Even Raya. All so simple and easy, and in a world where everything is usually anything but that for the Mafia Head, he appreciates it. 

And doesn’t want to let go. 

She doesn’t disagree with him, just continues to be honest. “I guess I also don’t want you to feel like….like I’m using you or something.”

At that, Roman chuckles and moves one hand to her cheek. “Solana, you looked physically sick the whole time we were shopping. You’re the last person I’d ever suspect that from.” Most women would have walked up and down that damn department store trying to get him to buy them any and everything they could get their hands on. Solana was the complete opposite. 

Her intentions are pure.

Just like her.

A true unicorn in the life he’s always lived, most of which is why Roman is certain he finds himself so drawn to her.

“It was a lot of money, Roman,” she protests, weakly. 

“To you,” he counters. “Solana, money is not something I’ve ever had to worry about and never will, but I recognize that’s not been the case for you.” He also gets the sense it’s a moderate problem for her right now, based upon the fact she can’t even afford to get her car repaired. “So, if you need something, you just have to ask.”

She looks uncomfortable, frowning almost, “Roman—”

“I get it may feel too soon, and I respect that. Just know the offer is there for you.” Roman can see it’ll take time for her to come around and accept his help, that he’ll have to ease his way into things, so he’ll wait for it. Wait for her to come to him when she’s ready. In the meantime, he’ll have to sprinkle little things along the way. “And we don’t have to do anything—”

“No,” she cuts him off, shaking her head and moving her hands up his chest. “I want to. I just…..I just needed to know where we stand and how this is going to work. That’s….that’s all.”

Roman sits up further, pressing her against him as he moves his thumb across her bottom lip. “I told you before, you’re mine. You need something, I got you. You want some dick, I definitely got you there.” Her eyes flutter shut, and Roman smirks feeling the way she’s shifting atop him. “And judging by the look on your face, that second thing is exactly what you wanting right now.”

Solana lays her head on his shoulder as he drops his hand from her face to her ass, squeezing her supple cheeks. “Please…..”

He makes a sound. “First, you gotta tell me when I can see you again.” Roman easily glides his hand from her ass to the side of her thigh, working his way past where the material of her dress is ruffled to the smoothness of her thick thigh. “A week is too damn long….” His mouth moves to her neck as she grasps at the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Roman, I—I work,” she breathes out, shifting once more as he sneaks his hand in between her legs, long fingers teasing her underwear. “Oh, shit.”

“I’m aware,” he chuckles, amused and also turned on by how she wiggles closer to him, eager for his fingers as they slide past the damp cotton of her panties. “And, I don’t care. We gotta figure something out.” 

“Roman,” she moans, hands gripping his shoulders as he enters one digit inside her wet, tight cunt. “P–please.”

He works her with his fingers, his mouth sucking on her neck before he asks in the calmest voice, “you gonna let me see you more often?” Finalized with the entering of another digit as she bucks against his hand.

She’s practically in tears, crying out against him, nails pressed into his skin through his shirt. “Yes, fuck, whatever—whatever you want.” 

Pleased with her agreement, Roman pulls his hand from her, chuckling when she whines against him. “You work tomorrow?”

His question as well as him stopping altogether have her pulled back and scowling. “No.” Moving once again on his lap, she's clearly feeling the growing erection underneath her. “Why–why’d you stop?”

The answer is simple. “Because I need a bed for everything I want to do to you, and I needed to know how much time I have.” 

His answer has her swallowing as she shares in a small voice, “she….she usually sleeps through the night.”

Roman smiles. Music to his fucking ears. 

Standing up, holding her up by her ass, he asks, “where’s your bedroom?”

At some point, he’ll have to issue a new text to his driver.

He won’t need them anytime soon.

Or at all, tonight.

[auraxins]

notes: boothill x gn!reader, fluff, mutual yearning, affectionate teasing, kissing, mentions of canon-typical violence, ~1k words

happy pre-boothill day, i hope he comes home to us all!

No matter how many times you wipe them down your legs, your palms refuse to cease sweating. 

He’d sent you a text weeks ago, that he’d try to see you soon. In fact, his words were that he’d be home soon. 

And you know never to get your hopes up too high. The life of a Galaxy Ranger, especially such a loose cannon like Boothill, has no strict schedule. For all you know, he’s ass-deep undercover on a planet thousands of light-years away right now. 

But his contact status has been set to online for the past hour. 

Which should mean that he’s going to message you again. You can’t quite bring yourself to hope for the alternative; that you’ll actually see him, hold him. Life rarely turns in your favour like that. 

Nonetheless, you are wiping your hands and bouncing your leg as your body desperately attempts to keep all the nervous energy that has accumulated in the past sixty minutes within the confines of your skin. 

Anticipation is funny like that, the way it can take hold of your body and even usurp control of your mind. It builds and builds until it becomes all you can think about, all you can pay attention to. 

So much so that you barely even notice when a figure approaches on the horizon. A familiar silhouette, long hair and a statement hat; unmistakeable. 

Your heart pounds. 

Momentarily, you’re halfway to convinced that you’re seeing things. There’s no way you could be this lucky. Even as he reaches you, looks you up and down with a relieved and toothy grin, it feels more likely that you’re experiencing a hallucination. 

He pauses just far enough to give you some space, and cocks his head as he speaks. 

“With a frown like that I’d reckon you ain’t all that excited to see me, darlin’.” 

There are new scratches and scuffs on his torso. They’ve been very crudely cleaned out, small caked-on patches of dirt and other peoples’ blood still lining the ridges. You push away the urge to sit him down and pick them out. 

“You took a while,” you say quietly. 

“I’m sorry,” he offers sincerely. “Got caught up in somethin’ big.”  

It’s impossible to be mad at him when he’s finally in front of you, within arms’ reach. You shake any residual negativity from your mind and step closer, bringing your hands to Boothill’s waist. He leans into your touch instinctively, though you know he can’t feel it, and holds your shoulders gently in turn. 

“Well, at least you’re home now.” 

He hums in agreement, pressing his lips to your forehead. It’s warm in comparison to the metallic chill of his hands, part of the only stretch of flesh he has left. For a moment, he simply lingers there, basking in your presence. 

You wonder how he’s felt in the months you’ve spent apart. 

No matter how you’d missed him, at least you had the comfort of your home and friends. He’s been alone out there, in danger out there. The thought has you subconciously grasping onto him tighter, snaking your arms up to embrace him more completely, to anchor your hands into the hem of his cropped jacket. 

Boothill brings a hand to your chin to tilt your head up, before giving you the sweetest smile you think you’ve ever seen on him. It spills from his lips to the corners of his eyes, deep crow’s feet oozing with contentment. 

“I can’t tell you how much I’ve wanted you right here like this,” he confesses earnestly, leaning in until your nose brushes against his. “Those fudgers kept me away far too long.” 

You can’t help but giggle at the censored profanity. Clearly he still hadn’t been able to fix his synesthesia beacon on his travels. 

“Those fudgers- ” you tease lightly, releasing one of your hands to trace along his abdomen- “can’t get to you anymore.” 

“Damn right they can’t,” Boothill laughs, pinching at your cheek in retaliation. “Not after I put a bullet in ‘em.” 

“Boy, you sure know how to flirt.” A giggle escapes you as you wriggle away from his hand, only to end up with him grasping your hips and pinning you against him. 

You bring your own hands to his chest, smoothing down the fabric of his jacket. Your thumb lingers along the little golden medallions pinned to the left breast, admiring the way they glitter in the light. 

“I must be good at it, if I’ve nabbed a sweet little thing like you,” Boothill simpers, emphasising his words with a gentle prod to your nose. You almost hate how effective it is, how if you had any less self-control it might have made you fall weak at the knees. 

His adornments clink as you twist your fist into his jacket, yanking him so that your chests bump together. 

“If you’re so good at it, how come you aren’t kissing me yet?” 

There’s no need to tell Boothill twice, as he closes the distance between you in an instant. 

Adrenaline spikes through your veins and you weave your fingers into his hair. It’s tangled and definitely hasn’t seen water for a few days, but you can’t care less in the moment. You simply need to hold him however you can, to ground yourself against his body. 

He’s on you like a man starved, sharp teeth grazing your lips with every feverish kiss. You find it hard to forget how far removed from humanity Boothill has become in moments like these, but it does little to deter you as he squeezes into your hips and you kiss him harder in response. 

All that matters is that he is here with you, and you are kissing him. 

That alone makes everything right with the world. 

[bellaaae]

Newjeans reaction to yn cursing [97k views]

Minji

She was doing a live when you passed by and stubbed your toe on Minji’s bed. “Ah fuck!” You muttered under your breath and held your toe.

You walked past minji like you had not just cursed on her live.

She furrowed her eyebrows unsure of what she heard. “I’m I hearing this correctly?” She thought to herself.

“You all didn’t hear anything right?” She told the fans giving them a warning look.

She was asking just to be sure to protect the Maknae’s image.

Hanni

You and Hanni were baking.

As you were drawing the members representative animals on the cookie. Your hand accidentally shifted when drawing Danielle as a Dog.

Making the tongue look weird.

“Oh shit!” You cursed out loud trying to make it look better.

Hanni widened her eyes and looked at you in shock. “Did yn just curse?” Hanni asked herself in her mind.

“Yah yn were recording did you forget?” Hanni cautioned the younger girl.

“Oh! I totally forgot,please edit it out!” Yn begged the directors.

Danielle

“What’s one place you want to visit now that you’re in NewYork?” The interviewer asked yn in English.

“Umm I really want to go to the bish” Yn blurted out actually meaning “beach”.

Danielle gasped a little and spoke. “She meant beach” Danielle corrected yn.

“Yeah bish..beash” Yn said smiling innocently.

Everyone laughed at yn and the way Danielle corrected her.

Haerin

Both Haerin and yn decided to do a live before going to bed.

Comment: yn can you say Bastard?

Yn read out the comment thinking it was something else.

“Yn you’re not meant to say that word” Haerin scolded you.

“What? But unniee I didn’t mean to” you pouted looking at hearin with puppy eyes.

She couldn’t help but adore your face.

“Just be careful of whatever you read next time” Haerin sighed and you nodded.

Hyein

Newjeans were filming a variety show in an haunted house.

Yn and Hyein were walking together making sure to look around for any signs of the ghosts.

As yn turned to face front a ghost jump scared her making her should almost leave her body.

“AH WHAT THE FUCK!” Yn yelled as she jumped and ducked. Her heart beating very fast.

Hyein turned to you giving you a mother who’s about to scold their child look.

“Yn how can you curse…We’re filming hope you didn’t forget?!” Hyein whispered-yelled.

“Please censor it” hyein pleaded to the directors.

✰𝐍𝐄𝐖𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒