#also the depth of the blue on the jeans

[dripping-moonlight]

[thatone-girly]

K.R.E.A.M V.1

PAIRING: Roman Reigns x Cherish Henry (OC)

SUMMARY: In the first chapter, we are introduced to the vibrant and bustling atmosphere of Roman Reigns' elite Las Vegas strip club. Roman, a commanding presence with a reputation for being both ruthless and charming, oversees the night’s performances with a keen eye. Among the dancers, Cherish stands out, captivating the audience with her grace and allure. Roman, usually detached, finds himself inexplicably drawn to her. He observes her from afar, intrigued by her mysterious aura and exceptional talent. Roman's interest is piqued, setting the stage for a slow-burning romance that promises to unfold with complexity and depth.

WORD COUNT: 4.0k

Authors Note: If you’d like to be added to the taglist, comment and let me know! Also, go check out this Roman x Stripper fic by @overrboarrd ! It’s hella good and it inspired me to get my lazy ass up and finish this since it’s been sitting in drafts for 7 months.

Red Lights.

There were so many red lights.

In the bustling streets of Las Vegas, there were lights everywhere. Blue, Green, Yellow, and Orange. But there weren’t nearly as many red lights on the streets as there were in Oasis Écarlate, French for ‘Scarlet Oasis’.

In the lounge of the club under the many vermillion lights, there were men scattered all over.

Surrounding the stage, there were the usual bums who popped up every other night. If not, every night. Those were the ones who only had twenty to one hundred dollars to throw, then had the nerve to ask for a private dance. The ones who would pick money up off the floor and throw it to look like they had more money, or just stuff it in their pocket and take it home for themselves. The ones who’d come in and get hammered over a silly argument with their girlfriend, or sometimes wives. The ones who’d come in the club in a dingy t-shirt, baggy jeans, and beat up tennis shoes.

Sitting at the intimately decorated tables scattered across the open floor were the middle class men. The ones who threw just enough to not damage their credit score. The ones who’d lend a few dollars to whatever vagrant had run out of money and could no longer ‘ball out’. The ones who’d never come in alone, either with a friend, or sometimes even their girlfriend. The ones who’d sometimes get private dances depending on how much they’d drank, or how a certain dancer made them feel. The ones who were always decently dressed, normally in a nice button down, or snug turtleneck.

Lounging clad at the booths along the walls were what the dancers liked to call ‘The Big Ballers’. Those were the ones the dancers payed special attention to and were always guaranteed to get a large payday from. The ones who couldn’t care less about how much money they spent because it wouldn’t even make a dent in their bank account. The ones who never associated themselves with the scrubs indulged in the hypnotic movements of dancers they’d never get to see outside of the club. The ones who bought out the V.I.P sections, the private lounges, and the sky boxes above everyone. The ones who’d outbid any and everyone on the club just to get the dancer they wanted to entertain them and their entourage.

However, no matter how much money they had or how much money they put down, there was one man that could come through and shut everything down. If he wanted your table, with the snap of a finger, he’d have it. If he wanted your private lounge, your V.I.P section, with the snap of a finger, he’d have it. He didn’t have to worry about the sky boxes. There was one sky box, the biggest one of them all, smack dead in the middle reserved for him. He had a perfect view of everyone. He could look down at the bums, the basics, and the ballers. He could look down at the stage and watch every single one of his dancers grace the pole with her alluring presence. Though he rarely, if ever did it, he could have his pick of any dancer he wanted. The man who was feared and respected not only in the club, but all of Las Vegas.

That man was Roman Reigns.

The 35 year old, whose real name was Joe Anoa’i, had ruled his club with an iron fist. Having taken ownership from his father, Roman took the running of his club seriously. Once his father stepped down from his position as CEO, the club went into a downward spiral. Clientele was low. No one wanted to visit anymore, no one was interested in the aging, washed up dancers his father refused to get rid of. Hell, even the scrubs stayed away. When Roman took over, all of that went out the window. He did a full rebrand. He had the club renovated from top to bottom. He changed the layout, the lights, the stage, everything. He fired everyone and started from the ground up with staff. He sent his cousins out to rival businesses to recruit dancers for the new and improved club. Due to that, he made enemies out of a vast number of club owners, but he couldn’t give less of a fuck. Now, some of the best dancers in the city belonged to his club.

Those very dancers were in the dressing room of Oasis Écarlate. As of now, it was intermission. The beaming LED lights were white, an obvious contrast to their usual crimson color. The sea of men below the stage talked amongst each other, some lended the other money, some recreantly slid money their way with their foot, and some made their way over to the bar while they awaited the next dance of the night.

The dressing room was a sanctuary of muted chaos, a stark contrast to the pulsating energy of the club beyond its doors. Makeup palettes, hair products, and costumes were scattered across the vanity tables, each an essential tool for the night's transformations. Amidst the flurry of preparation, Cherish sat quietly, a calm island in the sea of activity. Her reflection in the mirror was one of serene beauty. Her long, ginger hair cascaded over her shoulders in loose waves, and her eyes, deep and expressive, held a world of stories untold. She pushed her lips together, smoothing out any lipstick that hadn’t been before.

“Cherish, you up next?”

She looked in the reflection in front of her, locking eyes with Serena. With a sigh Cherish answered, “Yep.”

Serena was one of the few girls Cherish could tolerate. She and Serena were much alike. They both weren’t fans of drama, yet they took no shit. They enjoyed the same shows, hobbies, hell, they even shared some of the same regular clients. They both weren’t interested in the extra malarkey of the strip club scene. They came in, did their job, got their money, and left.

Like clockwork, the voice of Pat McAfee, otherwise known as simply Pat, boomed through the stereo of the club. Cherish stood from her spot at the vanity, doing one more once over on herself. She made sure her hair was smooth and kinkless, running her fingers through her bundles one last time. Her one piece Versace set, blinged out with crystals was bright enough to catch the eye of even the most uninterested being in the club. A huff left her lips as she made her way towards the door.

“Good luck, Cherry.”, Serena wished, also taking it upon herself to leave Cherish a good luck pat on the ass.

Cherish looked at Serena over her shoulder and gave her a wink before she walked through the string of crimson beads hanging from the door frame. She kept her confident stride up until she reached the curtain. The voice of Pat was smooth and sultry, a huge contrast to his usual hyped demeanor when he was not working as he introduced, “Gentlemen, please give a very warm, wet welcome to La Séduisante Dame Chérit.”

The Seductive Lady Cherish.

That’s what she was known as in the Scarlet Oasis.

The song that began to flow through the speakers was her song.

“Seduction”, by none other than Usher Raymond.

When that song began to play, everyone knew who was hitting the stage. Even if you didn’t know her by name, you knew who she was by that song.

Including the boss.

The heavy bass of the music thrummed through the club, vibrating the very air as Cherish made her way to the center of the stage. The lights dimmed, casting a sultry glow over the room. She took a deep breath, feeling the anticipation of the crowd wash over her like a wave. This was her moment.

Immediately, he was focused. Focused on the way she walked and moved. The scowl on his face neither softened nor hardened, but it stuck. His hands remained clasped together in the center of his manspread legs. He didn’t move, but his eyes? Oh, they moved. They followed her everywhere.

As the spotlight hit her, Cherish began to move, her body flowing with the rhythm. Every step, every sway of her hips was calculated to captivate and seduce. Her eyes scanned the audience, locking onto different faces, making each person feel like she was dancing just for them. As she moved across the stage effortlessly and suavely, her freshly installed burnt orange hair flowing almost cinematically as her body swayed to the slow, seductive beat of the music. She tried not to chuckle at the usual bums who didn’t have a dime to throw as their mouths became glued to the ground.

She moved with grace and power, her movements fluid and mesmerizing. The crowd watched in rapt attention, their cheers and applause melding with the music. She could feel their energy, their desire, fueling her performance. Her routine was a perfect blend of artistry and allure, each move telling a story. As she executed a series of spins and bends, her hair cascaded around her like a waterfall, adding to the visual feast. She was in complete control, commanding the attention of everyone in the room.

She worked her way up the slim metal cylinder, climbing upward and onward until she reached the bright blood red lights of the ceiling. She tuned out the usual catcalls, whistling, and sweet nothings as she spun around at the very top of the pole, letting nothing be heard except the music. She listened to the lyrics. So did he.

Seduction

She split her legs open, beginning her slow, hypnotic descend to the ground.

Sensuous, Sexy, Erotic. How You Workin’ Your Body

The lyrics went perfectly with the scene, her legs which were once split in the air now in a perfect split on the ground. Her movements were hypnotizing and intriguing, that being made obvious by the way the men in smooth, steamed suits slid from their positions at their booths and moved up to the stage for a closer look at the gyrating woman.

Still, there was no display of interest whatsoever from Roman. He did nothing but watch.

He watched the stage with a keen eye, his powerful presence commanding the room even in silence. The VIP area provided a perfect view of the performance below, allowing him to oversee everything without interruption. Jey and Jimmy flanked him, their expressions mirroring his intense focus.

The way she commanded the stage, the energy she exuded – it was magnetic. He could see the raw talent and passion in her performance, something that set her apart from the other dancers.

Breaking the silence in the room, Jey snapped his fingers, “That one right there! That’s my favorite one.”

His brother Jimmy scoffed, “Shit, I thought my favorite was Bambi, but after seeing this one, I think I changed my mind.” They could sense her confidence, the way she owned the stage from the moment she set foot on it. The bass of the music thrummed through the floor, the vibrations a tangible reminder of the energy she was channeling. “She got the crowd eating out of the palm of her hands.”

Another wave of silence took over as the twins sat mesmerized. Once again, the silence was broken by Jey as he swatted Roman’s upper arm with the back of his hand asking, “Hey, man, you know what her name is?”

Smacking his lips, Jimmy looked over to his brother. “Her name is in her stage name, Uce. It’s Cherish.”

“Well, hell, I don’t know French!”, Jey scowled over at Jimmy, “And how the hell do you know?”

Swooping his hand down to his lap, Jimmy picked up his phone and flipped the screen in the direction of Jey. Displayed brightly was the Apple translator app, set on the French setting. “Translator. Keep up with the game, man.”

Ignoring the childish spat that started with Jey’s response, Roman kept his eyes on the scene below him, watching as Cherish slowly descend to her knees. On all fours, she crawled up to a crowd of men that stood at the right wing of the stage. Roman could see the way she fed off their energy, using it to drive her performance to even greater heights. He appreciated her dedication, the way she pushed herself to excel in every aspect of her routine.

The end of the song nearing, Cherish wrapped up her act with her signature kiss to the cheek of a random club-goer. Usually, it was one of the ones she knew would tip well, and maybe even ask for a private dance; and tonight was no different as she crawled up to the man with the cleanest suit, wrapped her manicured hands around the collar of his blazer and pulled him in to plant a firm kiss on his cheek. It was perfectly timed, the song coming to an end as soon as she pulled away, her lipstick leaving the print of her lips on the man’s cheekbone.

At the sound of whistles, applause, and catcalls, she stood to her feet and strutted her way behind the curtain, immediately dropping her act when the drapes closed. She made her way back to the dressing room, her feet aching with a terrible throb from the high heels she’d chosen for the night. Walking through the beaded curtains, she was met with all of the other dancers fixing themselves. Cherish was the last dance, and after the final act, all of the dancers went out and walked around the club, just waiting to see who wanted a private dance until the club closed at 2.

Plopping on the stool next to Serena, Cherish sighed of exhaustion. “Girl, I’m so ready to go home.”, she mumbled as she reached to grab her lipstick. “Tonight’s kind of boring.”

From across the room, two dancers, Bambi and Freddi, whose real names were Chelsea and Freeda, giggled amongst themselves. Something as simple as them laughing made Cherish and Serena exchange looks of mutual annoyance. They couldn’t stand those two. Really, no one could, but the pure disdain Cherish and Serena had for Bambi and Freddi was on another level.

The two duos were total opposites. While Cherish and Serena preferred to stay away from the nightclub life outside of dancing, Bambi and Freddi were all in with it. They partied all day and night, drank like unemployed 45-year old divorcee’s, and even dabbled in drugs here and there. The women felt like they were better than any and everybody, often criticizing other dancers on things they themselves couldn’t or didn’t do. On top of that, they were the messiest performers in the locker room. Most of, if not all of the locker room drama came at their hands, whether it was rumors, the airing out of someone’s business, or unnecessary comments and criticism, those two had a knack for pissing people off.

Ignoring the two women, Serena commented, “Yeah, tonight’s been pretty slow”, she agreed, “but, girl! You knocked ‘em down out there! I was watching from behind the curtain.”

Again, giggles erupted from Bambi and Freddi, only this time louder. Serena glanced back at the two, while Cherish opted to just ignore them. She was not in the mood for their bullshit. Not tonight. With a roll of her eyes, Serena turned back to face the white vanity she and Cherish shared. “They better not start their shit.”, she mumbled with a huff, “I’m in the mood to whoop some ass tonight.”

Cherish said nothing, deciding to not even entertain them a bit. Instead, she slid her lipstick across her lips, touching it up after her finale. “I’m not worried about them.”, she mumbled in the midst of applying the smooth paint to her lips. “They ain’t worth my time or my energy.”

At her declaration, Bambi mumbled a faint ‘bitch’ before she and Freddi burst into laughter. They weren’t giggling anymore. They were full blown cackling. With a huff, Serena turned on her stool to face the two women who stood doubled over in laughter in the corner.

“Y’all wanna tell me what’s so funny?”, she question, her tone hostile and annoyed. At this, the room grew dead silent as the other dancers stopped what they were doing and turned their attention to Serena. Some of them were being messy, while others were hoping nothing went down and got too serious. There had been one too many fights in this locker room, and none of them wanted to be the ones to clean up the aftermath. “I wanna know what the joke is. What are we laughing at?”

Bambi and Freddi were silent as they exchanged looks, mocking grins spread on their faces. “Oh, what, we’re not laughing anymore? Joke’s over?”, Serena asked with a sarcastic smile and tilt of her head.

“Chill, girl. We were just talking about one of Bambi’s clients.”, Freddi chuckled, the gum she was chewing making obnoxiously loud smacking sounds between her words.

“Oh, really? You sure?”, Serena quipped, her tone shifting to one you’d use when speaking to a child, “I find it real coincidental that y’all get to the funny part of the story every time me or Cherry says something. So y’all sure we’re not the joke? Y’all sure it ain’t one of us being funny and we don’t know?”

“Girl, relax. We just said we’re not laughing at y’all.”, Bambi put in her two cents, accompanying her words with an eye roll.

Preparing to stand up from her stool, Serena placed her brush on the vanity, but Cherish quickly grabbed her wrist before she could. “It’s fine, ‘Rena. I’m not worried about them, you shouldn’t worry about them either.”, she mumbled.

With a deep breath, Serena shot the two one last look before turning back around to face the mirror. “Can’t stand those bitches, I swear.”, she murmured before picking up her hairbrush.

Everyone went back to their business, some girls in various stages of changing, and chatting animatedly about their performances and the possible tips they could get from certain men. The rustling of the beads adorning the doorway of the dressing room pulled everyone’s attention away from whatever it was they were doing as the presence of the 6’3 Samoan they called their boss commanded the room. The sound of throats clearing and rustling clothes of women fixing their appearances overtook the silence as Roman stood flanked by his cousins. Everyone seemed to be so enamored by his presence, except Cherish. She kept her eyes on the makeup palette below her.

“Ladies,” Romans baritone voice resonated, commanding immediate attention. As if he didn’t have that already. “Great job tonight. I want you all to keep it up. Remember, I’m always watching.”

A few of the women had to stop themselves from squealing. He did something to them that they couldn’t explain. Cherish knew as soon as he stepped out of the room, they’d be gushing and cooing about his appearance. She rolled her eyes at the thought. She didn’t understand it. Sure, he was an attractive man. But the thought of lusting after her boss was a strange concept. She’d prefer not to.

He must’ve sensed her thoughts, because the next thing out of his mouth startled her.

“Cherish.”

It was simple. It was only her name, but something about it made her shoulders jump slightly. She looked up at him through her vanity mirror, her lashes fanning her face through her blinks. “Good performance. You got a lot of compliments.”

Forcing a small smile, she nodded in acknowledgment before looking back down at her makeup. His face holding his signature scowl, his gaze lingered on her a bit longer than anyone had expected. Even Cherish. She looked up once more, locking eyes with him through the mirror wondering why he was staring at her. Maybe it was her lack of response. Or maybe he could sense her sour mood. Whatever it was, it made her nervous for whatever reason.

Finally looking away from her, his eyes looked over the other dancers. Scowl deepening at the sight of Bambi mugging the back of Cherish’s head, he stood still. He watched as she leaned over to whisper something to Freddi, who found what she said extremely funny by the way she covered her mouth to keep from laughing too loud. Deciding that whatever was going on between them should be kept between them until it was brought to his attention by one of the parties involved, he turned to exit the room. He walked first, Jimmy and Jey following behind him.

“Sooo, Cherish is the only one that did a good job?”, Bambi asked bitterly.

Collective eye rolls from dancers didn’t go unnoticed by Bambi, but she paid them no mind. Cherish returned the favor by giving her no reaction, but Roman stopped in his tracks. His halt caused all eyes to be back on him and Bambi, everyone, including Cherish, watching as he slowly walked backwards into the room before turning to face her. “Is there a problem, Chelsea?”

Swallowing hard, she looked around the room as if waiting for someone to come to her defense. That didn’t happen, obviously, so now she had to fend for herself. “Well…you only told Cherish good job. Did nobody else have a good performance?”

Folding his hands in front of him, his shoulders bounced with his chuckle as he took a step towards her. “Jey,” he called out to his cousin who stood behind him, “Please, tell me. When I came in here, what did I say?”

“You told everybody great job.”, he answered, his eyes on Bambi with the look of a child watching their sibling get in trouble.

“Right. I told everybody great job.”, he scowled in her direction. “I gave Cherish an additional compliment because she got the most compliments from customers. Is that a problem?”

He took another step towards her, his intimidating gaze staying on her. Taking a step back, Bambi shook her head. “You sure? You seemed pretty bothered. Is there anything else you want me to break down to you?”, his tone was similar to the one Serena used with her earlier. Gentle, as if talking to a child, but firm and intimidating.

With another shake of her head, Bambi looked down at her white painted toes adorned by her pink heels. Looking around the room, Roman questioned, “Anybody else have anything to say?” Being met with silence, he nodded. “Alright. Finish up getting ready. Y’all have an hour and thirty left to work. Also, be here about an hour early tomorrow. I want to have a meeting with you all in the conference room.”

With one last glance around the room, his eyes landed on Cherish’s vanity one last time. Shifting in her seat under his gaze, Cherish looked back down at her lap before picking up her hairbrush to brush out her hair. Finally turning, Roman and the twins exited the room. The room erupted in chatter, some gushing over their boss as Cherish expected, some lowkey clowning Bambi, and some complaining about losing a few extra minutes of sleep by having to be here earlier the next day.

Being nudged by Serena, Cherish looked up. The expression she held confused Cherish, although she had an idea of what she was going to say. “Girl! Did you see how he was looking at you?”, Serena exclaimed, nudging Cherish once more.

Rolling her eyes, Cherish couldn’t fight the small grin that appeared on her face. Why the hell was she smiling? “Don’t start, ‘Rena.”, she shook her head.

Kissing her teeth, Serena tilted her head, “Start what? You know you saw that!”

Shaking her head once more, Cherish stood from her stool. “Girl, stop being delusional and come on. We have to be back out there in two minutes.” Doing one more once over of herself in the mirror, Cherish ran her fingers through her hair. She didn’t want to think too much about what just happened, especially when all he did was look at her.

“Alright, you just wait. You’re gonna see that he likes you. Mark my words.”

[feelbokkie]

L♡VE IN F♡CUS | Chapter 21

WARNINGS: mention of food/eating, swearing

PAIRING: idol!Changbin x fem reader

GENRE: smau, crack, angst, fluff

P♡V: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

SUMMARY: Amateur concert photographer Y/n has recently been promoted to junior music journalist. Her first assignment? An exposé on the popular Kpop boy group, Stray Kids. Spending an entire tour doing in depth interviews with eight men seems simple enough, but one member isn't exactly open to the idea. Will Y/n be able to break down the walls around his heart, or will her big break turn into a big disaster?

TAGLIST: ♡PENED

W♡RD C♡UNT: 3,573

SCREENSH♡T C♡UNT: 2

A/N: i was going to make this a super duper long chapter but i think i'll also split this into 2

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©feelbokkie (2024) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

“Thank you so much,” you say. You take the drink carrier that one of the hotel staff members found and place the coffees you made for you and Wonseok inside. You make sure to carefully wrap up the Danish you grabbed earlier tightly with a napkin before putting it in your bag to prevent crumbs from getting everywhere.

It’s early. Not as early as it normally is when you go down to the complimentary breakfast at whichever hotel you’re at, but early enough for most of the good food to still be available. Luckily for you, most of the people staying at the hotel are still asleep or are already exploring the city, leaving practically no lines and making it easy for you to get what you need.

“Y/n, noona?”

You freeze at the familiar voice calling for you. You know it’s Changbin, you can recognize his voice anywhere especially when he’s trying to be quiet. Even more so when he’s calling for you. He’s developed a habit of calling your name as gently as someone would carry a newborn baby followed by ‘noona’ after a brief pause so short that anyone else would miss it.

Uncertainty laces his voice like he’s not sure it’s actually you. You think for a moment. Maybe if you pretend you heard your phone and keep walking out, then you’d be fine. You know the members tend to roam the hotel and go to the complimentary breakfast on their own. Or at least, without a member of their staff. The hotel has a lot more privacy than any restaurant they might try to go to. And if anything, the hotels are committed to keeping their complimentary breakfast exclusive to the guests so it's a bit safer for them to go off on their own without worrying about running into fans or cameras as much.

"It is you, noona," His voice is closer now, a bit more hushed. A sense of relief in his voice. "Do you want to join me for breakfast?"

You turn to Changbin, a soft smile spreads across your face at the sight of him. His hair is mostly hidden under a black beanie but you can still see some of the soft black tuffs poking out in the back. In his slightly oversized white t-shirt, distressed baggy blue jeans, and plain white sneakers he blends in with the crowd of people inside the dining area. Virtually undetectable to the public but you still can’t shake the nagging feeling at the back of your mind telling you to leave.

“You know the rules,” You remind him gently. “Besides, I’m heading out to meet with one of my best friends from back home.”

"Oh," It's subtle, but Changbin's lower lip juts out as he turns away.

It was one thing when Changbin hated you and actively tried to avoid you. It stung at first and made your job difficult when it came to the interview portion of your day. It was another when the two of you became civil. He wouldn't seek you out as much as the other members did. He'd mostly show up when one of the other members did and would engage in small conversation. But after your little mental breakdown at the start of the second tour, you've met an entirely different Changbin--the most frustrating version of him yet.

The one that pities you.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, bringing you back to your previous task of meeting with Wonseok. “I have to go. I’ll see you at the show tomorrow,”

“Right,” Changbin nods slowly. You almost feel bad.

Almost.

You know that half of the members have schedules today. You also know that Changbin hates being stuck in the hotel room. You thought that it was something that he said as an exaggeration in an interview. But you've spent enough time with him during the tour to know that he usually would tag along with one of the other members if they were doing something so that he wouldn't be bored. But Han wasn't feeling too well after your exploration day with him and Seungmin for the "Summer A Stay" project. Minho will probably stay the day to take care of him while Hyunjin might sleep in until mid-day. Which means that by the time he wakes up, most of the day might be gone. And even if Hyunjin is ready to go out later or any of the boys who are currently working are ready to go out, Changbin is still going to be bored for several hours.

You give Changbin one more glance before you head to the front of the hotel to wait for a taxi.

"Aren't gallery openings more of an evening thing?" You ask after taking a sip of the apple cider.

"The events that I normally take you and Frankie to are," Wonseok puts a cracker with a piece of cheese in your mouth. He filled up his plate full of hors d'oeuvres enough for the two of you since you can't hold both a plate and a cup with your broken arm. "But this one is for up-and-coming artists and this is a sort of soft launch. Only the press and invited guests are allowed today. Tickets sold out for the next few months for the main event so they added today to lessen the traffic."

The two of you stand in the middle of the gallery in front of an oil painting of a large tree where the roots are sprouting from a skeleton, directly from the heart by an artist whose name you’re not even going to try to sound out, even in your head. It’s a grim painting with a message a bit too morose for you and Wonseok to be taking a snack break in front of, but it’s also the least crowded area of the gallery for now.

Your eyes focus on the child playing near the tree in the painting. “Is this the type of gallery where people can buy art or just look at it?”

“Looking to add some life to your apartment?” Wonseok smirks. Your apartment back in Seoul hardly looks lived in. You only decided to get some plants after Frankie commented on it looking like a jail cell.

You hold back hitting him playfully, not that you have an available hand to do so, and instead roll your eyes at him. “You know for a fact that I couldn’t even afford an art print right now.”

“Which is exactly why I’m paying for everything today.”

“I’ll pay you back when I get paid. I’ve had a lot of free time so I did a bunch of album reviews and introspective pieces for rookie groups. Plus I get royalties from my stuff on the company website.”

“Pretty sure that’s supposed to be resting time so you can heal,” Wonseok takes a sip of his drink, also apple cider, and slightly shakes his head in disapproval.

“I’ll have plenty of time to rest when I’m dead. For now, I need to focus on the present and I’d love to have a place to come home to once the tour is over. Can’t do that if I get evicted for not paying rent.”

Wonseok presses his lips together in a tight line as his eyes shift between you and that painting that seems to have captured your full attention. He takes the last bit of food from the plate—something wrapped in lettuce—and shoves it in your mouth before discarding the paper plate in a nearby trash can. “C’mon, let’s find you a happier piece of art to stand in front of. Look, that one has a puppy in it and a dea…okay maybe not that one. I think we saw a sculpture with butterflies when we first walked in.”

Wonseok’s hand lands on top of your head as he tries to steer you away from the tree painting that you feel strongly akin to, almost like it’s not a metaphor for life and death but a visual representation of how you feel inside. Like you’re the skeleton and everything above ground is every other aspect of your life. But that’s just how art is supposed to work, right?

Your head is turned to the left towards a small crowd standing in front of a piece of art you can’t see. You feel Wonseok pushing you towards the crowd. The two of you barely move a foot away from the tree painting when a random pain in both your stomach and chest forces you to stop dead in your tracks, causing Wonseok to stumble into you. Miraculously, your drink remains in its cup.

"Why'd you stop?"

You're unsure yourself. The strange pain you're currently feeling, although fairly new, isn't entirely foreign to you. It's not consistent either. Sometimes it feels like a vice is being squeezed around your torso. Other times it feels like a horse kicked you so hard that all of the air has left your body. Right now, it feels like you've been struck by lightning thrown by Zeus himself. You thought it was a side effect of the pain medication that you had been taking. But even after making sure you eat enough food with your medicine, the side effects never went away. So, deciding the pain in your arm is much more bearable than whatever is going on internally, you decided to go off your meds and just deal with the pain from your arm.

You turn around and point in the opposite direction at a clay sculpture. You clear your throat and try your best to keep your voice as even as possible. "Let's go look at that one instead."

Wonseok follows your hand to see what you're pointing at. "The illusion piece? We already looked at that one. I took notes on it and everything."

"Maybe a second look will inspire more questions for you to ask the artist. Perspective and all that."

Wonseok furrows his brows as he studies your face for a moment. Seemingly finding what he's looking for, he nods as his face softens. "Sure, we can go look at that one again."

The further you walk away from the crowd, the faster the pain dissipates and you let out a silent sigh of relief.

The two of you walk around the gallery a bit more, appreciating the less crowded pieces. Wonseok explains the art and techniques to you as you walk. Occasionally, Wonseok leaves you alone in front of one of the pieces so that he can interview one of the artists. You make sure to stay in his line of sight so he can find you quickly when he's done.

"Okay, I just need to find one more artist and then we can go. She's supposed to be the star of the gallery and has been someone that everyone is watching. But she's also very introverted. So far, none of the other journalists and artists have talked to her today. But she's here, I saw that she was signed in at the front desk earlier." Wonseok explains as he scribbles into his notebook.

"Is she the one who made the tree painting and other similar still-life pieces?" You ask as you look around the gallery to help find her for him. Luckily, there are pictures of the artist printed in the brochure you were given when you got in.

"Yeah," Wonseok closes his notebook and shoves it into his pocket. "She's the youngest one here too. Barely 17. To exhibit that much talent and to be featured in a gallery like this at such a young age is astonishing. Some of the stuff here she started when she was only 14."

You let out an impressed sound as you continue to scan the room. There are more people than there were earlier, making it harder for you to see through the crowds of people. You try to look past the crowds, along the walls, and in the corners. You know that if you were her, that's where you'd be if you were avoiding people.

As you scan the room, you catch a glimpse of a very familiar face, locked in focus while stroking his chin as he stares at something on the wall.

"Oh...I'm actually going to kill him..." You mumble under your breath.

"Kill who? What happened?" Wonseok looks where you're looking and tries to see what could have unsettled you.

"Right there," You whisper as you point at the man several feet away from me. "It's Seo Changbin."

"Your Seo Changbin?"

Smack

"He is not my Seo Changbin."

Wonseok stares at you with his mouth agape as he rubs the spot on his arm where you hit him. "I didn't mean it like that. When the hell did you get so strong? I just was asking if it was the same Seo Changbin that you've been complaining about for nearly a year."

"Unfortunately," You roll your eyes as you dig for your phone inside of your bag. "He better not come over here. If anyone sees us together, Yoona will have a have a field day."

"Look around, Y/n. Nobody cares that he's here. If they did, they would have swarmed him already. I promise you, nobody recognized him. It's fine,"

"Yeah but..." You look around the room again, seeing if anyone might be looking at Changbin. There are a lot of cameras around, anyone can snap a photo and upload it online.

"It'll be fine. I see the artist I need to interview right there. So let me go talk to her and then we can get out of here before you combust."

Wonseok points just behind Changbin at the girl standing off in the corner with a lanyard around her neck. Sure enough, it's the artist he's been searching for. Wonseok pats your head and starts to walk off in her direction.

"Wonnie, wait," You grab at Wonseok, successfully latching onto a bit of the fabric on the back of his shirt. "Let me go with you. I can help translate."

"I can speak English, Y/n."

"Yeah, but she doesn't know that."

"Y/n," Wonseok lets out an exasperated sigh as he looks at the artist and then back at you. Luckily for him, she hasn't caught on that she's been spotted yet. "Just go stand in that dark corner over there or hide in that bathroom. I'll be back in fifteen--twenty minutes tops. And then I will hand feed you the fish and potatoes or whatever you've been bugging me about."

You look between Wonseok's stressed yet worried face and Changbin's distracted one. If you slip away before Changbin spots you then maybe it'll be fine.

"Fish and chips," You pout.

"Yes, fish and chips. Now please, can I go interview her before she runs away again?"

Before you can finish nodding, Wonseok is off to interview the young artist. You do one more survey around the room, trying to find somewhere to hide. Conveniently, you've also lost sight of Changbin.

"Shit," you mumble under your breath. You turn quickly to disappear into the bathroom, only to be met with a wall.

You squeeze your eyes shut, preparing to hit the ground as something wraps itself around your waist. You crack one eye open and see what's around you. Apparently, the wall has arms.

"I'm so sorry...noona?" Changbin sets you upright and helps you straighten your clothes.

You quickly push his hands off while looking around. "Th-thank you,"

"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. What are you doing here?" Changbin sheepishly smiles and throws his hands behind his back.

"It's fine, that's what I get for trying to run indoors." You smooth out your shirt and look up at Changbin. He's wearing the same thing he was when you saw him at the hotel. Only, he's added a dark grey long-sleeve button-up over his shirt and a pair of black-rimmed glasses. "I'm here with my friend, remember? Which staff member are you here with?"

"None," Changbin scratches the back of his head while he looks around the room. Finding what he was looking for, he smiles and waves behind you. "I'm here with Hyunjin. I had nothing to do today and he was invited so he let me tag along."

You turn around and see Hyunjin walking towards you. He's wearing a pair of black cargo pants, a leather jacket that's covering up the white graphic tee underneath, and a black bucket hat that's hiding his recently dyed ash-brown hair. Both of them stick out amongst the nice button-downs and slacks that most of the men are wearing, but you know that once they step outside, they'll blend in.

"Ah, noona, what are you doing here?" Hyunjin asks when he gets closer.

"She's here with one of her friends from home," Changbin answers for you.

"We get to meet one of noona's friends?" Hyunjin smiles. Somehow, you can't tell if it's an entirely innocent look from him.

You turn back to look for Wonseok. His back is turned to you as he continues to interview the artist about her work. No matter how many signals you throw in his direction, he doesn't turn around.

Best friend telepathy is fake.

You are consciously aware of the way that the three of you are standing. You take a small step back, ensuring there is a noticeable gap between you and them.

"Maybe..." Your voice trails off.

You're not sure why you feel so awkward right now. You're with the kids practically every day. You've spent more time with them than your friends in the past few months. Maybe it's the fact that you're trying to avoid ruining their hard work with a scandal that's making you feel uneasy. You were fine yesterday when you were with Han and Seungmin. And you had a brief conversation with Hyunjin in the hallway yesterday when you were walking back to your room after getting a bucket of ice. So why does everything feel weird?

"Noona?" Changbin calls softly, directing your attention to him.

"Huh? Sorry," You shake your head. "I'm a bit hungry so I'm not all there right now. What were you saying?"

"I was just asking if you and your friend want to join us for lunch," Changbin suggests, a large smile etched on his face.

"Um..." You turn around and see that Wonseok is finally making his way back. "I think we have a pretty packed schedule so--"

"That was quicker than I thought it was going to be but I'm done. Ready to go...Oh, they caught you."

You press your lips into a fine line and squeeze your eyes tight as you try to refrain from smacking Wonseok in front of Hyunjin and Changbin. After silently counting to ten, you slowly open your eyes. Hyunjin wears a large teasing smile as he looks between you and Wonseok while Changbin's smile is gone altogether.

"Alright, noona, we get it. We'll leave you two be." Hyunjin smirks as he nudges Changbin who has now returned to being a wall, unmovable and tall.

"What?" You tilt your head to the side and raise an eyebrow at Hyunjin.

Hyunjin looks at Changbin and gives him a strange look before turning back to you. "We see that you're...busy so don't worry about having lunch with us."

Wonseok nudges you suddenly. You turn to him to see what's wrong with him only to be met with him tilting his head towards Changbin and Hyunjin. You gently shake your head 'no,' knowing that he wants you to introduce them to him. The two of you continue to argue silently.

Stubbornly, Wonseok pushes past you and sticks his hand out in front of them. "Sorry, we're still trying to teach Y/n her manners. I'm Park Wonseok. She'll kill me if I get this wrong. You must be...Changbin and...Hyunjin?"

"You're right Wonseok...hyung?" Hyunjin asks as he takes his hand, shaking it firmly.

"Ajusshi," You cough. Wonseok's head snaps back at you, warning you silently that he'll get you later. "Sorry, I have something in my throat."

"Then I guess we should go get you some soup instead of that thing you wanted. Huh?" He smiles mischievously.

"That's not fair, Wonnie," You mumble. Suddenly, you're nerves are at ease and you're back to being calm.

"Then be nice to the person who is buying you things today." He whispers. He turns back to Hyunjin and Changbin. "Why don't the two of you join us for lunch? As a thank you for taking care of Y/n all these months. I know she can't be a pain in the ass sometimes."

"I'm not a--"

"We'd love to, right hyung? Noona doesn't talk much so it'd be fun to get to know her more." Hyunjin smiles as he looks at Changbin, who is still quietly looking between you and Wonseok.

"I don't think--"

"Perfect!" Wonseok claps his hands together. "Let's go, I know just the place too."

Wonseok grabs your good arm before you can protest further and drags you out of the gallery, Changbin and Hyunjin in tow. You repeatedly pinch Wonseok's side to get back at him. Instead of telling you to stop he slides his hand down your arm and firmly clasps your hand, swinging it back and forth between the two of you as you walk.

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

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[venusiinfurss]

i really want to do an in-depth costuming analysis on sunny because there's so much there. they all have distinctive styles with items frequently reused, adding to the realism of the show. it also demonstrates the way their characters want to be perceived by the world.

for example, dennis wears almost exclusively (most notably post- s2 and pre- s16) button down shirts in grays, whites, and blues, often with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, with jeans and sneakers, and occasionally long sleeved shirts (also rolled up at the elbows). this more formal choice of attire (a shade antithetical to his job as a bartender) demonstrates his inflated self-worth. he wants to be seen as 'better'- in terms of class, intellect, and general prowess- than his friends. by maintaining this more formal and elevated style of dress, he can maintain the facade that he is greater than the life he has chosen for himself. it also shows his reliance on his upper-class roots. by dressing in a preppier manner than the rest of the gang, he is again trying to assert his dominance over them. his slight switch to more casual attire in s16 (long-sleeved t-shirts, thin sweatshirts, etc.) could signal a shift in his characterization- as he has aged, perhaps he has let down this facade a bit? out of misanthropy or exhaustion or something else entirely.

mac wears (again almost exclusively, pre- s13) t-shirts, often with the sleeves cut off, the notorious navy-blue dickies, and combat boots. his t-shirts feature bold, aggressive, or satirical slogans, or (similar to charlie) presumably secondhand miscellaneous brand t-shirts. these slogans include "RIOT", "what are you looking at dicknose", "come to philly for the crack", and "beast coast". they display the same boisterous, aggressive nature as his personality. they exemplify his need for identity. what's more, the belligerent nature of these slogan t-shirts reinforces his masculinity to the world, perhaps compensating for his internalized homophobia. his removal of the t-shirt's sleeves highlights his muscles ('glamour muscles', as dennis points out- another example of his highly constructed facade), again allowing him to demonstrate his masculinity and compensate for his homosexuality. like dennis, his style of dress is an attempt to assert his dominance. after coming out (post s13), he utilizes this choice of fashion less, demonstrating his (slightly) diminished internal conflict.

i have less on charlie's wardrobe- just the obvious that he wears worn-out brand t-shirts from thrift stores or the trash because he doesn't care about his appearance. he doesn't try to maintain a facade as much as mac and dennis- he is (less) ashamed of who he is. he has a stronger sense of self than them, and is not constantly grappling with his identity.

I'm aware that these readings are very surface-level lol I'm just thinking... will probably do a pt2 about dee and frank and some minor characters :3

if you have anything to add or disagree with this interpretation let me know in the comments! would love to discuss ;P

[onceuponastory]

shopping spree

Plot: To fully enter the modern world, Bucky decides to switch up his wardrobe first, starting with some jeans. Unfortunately, he has no idea where to start with all the new trends and styles... but the sales assistant Y/N is more than happy to help. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader sort of Warnings: A few mentions of Bucky feeling like a man out of time and out of his depth. But as always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know! Notes: So I saw an anon on @anothersebastianblog mention that they wanted to see Bucky shopping for skinny jeans, and it gave me some inspo, so here we are! Also I wrote most on this on the bus to work after being up since 4am so....sorry if it makes 0 sense

Bucky stands with his arms crossed, jaw clenched. This is a nightmare. He should never have done this. Ever since he got his life back, he’s decided to try to fit in more, rather than being seen as an Avenger for the rest of his life. And since Sam constantly brings up his ‘dark and depressing’ wardrobe, his first step will be to make a change by updating his clothes. Starting with jeans.

Initially, it sounded like a great idea. But now, he’s completely lost, and doesn’t know where to start.

In front of him, various styles and colours are displayed. Ones that flare slightly at the bottom that look like something he saw in the 70s, more loose fits, and ones that look so tight, he would need to be cut out of them.

And are those…holes?

“Why the hell are they selling these things half finished?” Bucky grunts to himself.

Where is he even going to start?

How is he even going to start?

Maybe he should’ve just got Sam to show him online, or stuck with what he knows, what he’s comfortable with. This was a terrible idea and-

“Can I help you find something?” A voice asks, cutting through his stream of thoughts. 

Bucky turns to see a sales assistant smiling at him. But it’s not an overly fake smile like someone desperate for a sale. No, she seems like she genuinely wants to help him.

And for the first time that day, Bucky Barnes can relax.

“Yes, please. I’m a little lost.” He admits, his gaze flickering to the floor so he doesn’t see her reaction. Despite his big, tough and grumpy exterior… all Bucky wants is to feel like he belongs. Even though he’s an Avenger, he has never felt more lost and out of place. After being a man out of time for decades, placed in and out of cryosleep, he’s completely oblivious to what the modern world is like nowadays. And of course, being blipped didn’t help either. “I just don’t know what’s cool with the kids nowadays.” He sighs.

Y/N frowns. This man doesn’t even look that old, probably mid thirties. Definitely not old enough to say something like that. But he does look lost, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel a little bad for him. 

He is very cute though - with gorgeous silvery blue eyes, his short brown hair and stubble. She can also see muscles straining through his shirt, despite the jacket and…gloves? It’s enough to make her breath catch in her throat.

“Well, that depends.” She begins. “Nowadays, it’s more what you want to wear, rather than what’s ’cool with the kids’.” She chuckles. 

For a moment, Bucky frowns, expecting to be the butt of the joke. Instead, it’s the opposite. She’s laughing with him, making him feel comfortable. Bucky smiles, something in his gut fluttering.

“Thanks…” he glances at her name tag. “Y/N. I’m Bucky.”

“I love the way he says my name. And he has a lovely smile.” Y/N thinks. “Well, Bucky, I’ll show you our most popular styles and we can go from there.” Bucky nods. “Any colour ideas?”

“Black.” He answers quickly. Y/N nods. 

“A man after my own heart.” Bucky smiles. He wonders what it’d be like to know her in real life, outside of her job. To have a friend, one who isn’t an Avenger. A regular, normal civilian.

But just as he thinks that, has one moment of hope, it’s quickly squashed by his anxiety. “She’s just being polite to help you. She probably doesn’t even care about you that much. Nobody does.”

“You okay?” Y/N asks softly, bringing him back down to earth once again. “You kinda zoned out there.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He lies. This poor sales assistant definitely doesn’t get paid enough to hear all his woes.

Y/N nods, pulling out the first pair of jeans. “These are slightly baggy, and they’re really comfortable.” She says. “What do you think?”

“Uh….” He murmurs, still feeling completely out of his depth. “Maybe not yet.”

Next, a pair of skinny jeans. “It’s entirely up to you,” Y/N insists. “but these are definitely our most popular, and they’re always in fashion.”

“And they’re not… too skinny?” Bucky asks. Y/N shakes her head. 

“Nope, they’re nice and comfy.”

Honestly, the more Bucky thinks about it, the more he trusts Y/N and her judgment. So, he nods, and she adds them to the pile. 

She pulls out another pair, one with rips all over the legs. Bucky frowns. “Those aren’t even finished! They’re destroyed.”

Y/N shakes her head. “No! That’s the style. Very…rock and roll, I guess?”

“You’re serious? People wear jeans like this?”

“Deadly.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Not for me.”

“I think you’d suit them.” She admits, smiling. “Maybe not as many…extreme rips, but we have ones with just rips at the knees.” She suggests, holding up a pair. “It’s entirely up to you.”

Bucky frowns, thinking it over. Originally, it was a hard no. But Y/N does recommend them, and Sam said to try new things. And they don’t look that bad.

“Okay. Just cause I trust you.” He says, the words slipping out before he can stop them.

Y/N’s grin widens, a sight that sets him off too. “Aw, thanks Bucky.”

~ * ~

“Ready?” Y/N asks, leaning against the changing room wall.

“Almost!” Bucky calls. The door opens, and he steps out. He’s in a pair of basic black skinny jeans.

“How are they? How do you feel?”

“I feel…great!” Bucky grins, staring at himself in the mirror. He looks so happy, so confident, that Y/N can’t help but smile just as wide as him. 

He turns, admiring the way he looks. Y/N can’t help but let her eyes drift lower. His ass looks incredible in the jeans, and she can’t help but feel her cheeks heating up. He’s gorgeous. “What do you think?” Bucky asks, oblivious to her staring.

Or at least she hopes he is.

“Y-Yeah.” She stammers. “You look incredible.”

~ * ~

After trying on all his picks, Bucky and Y/N go to pay. “Thank you so much for this.” Bucky says. “You really helped me feel a lot more comfortable and confident with this whole thing.”

“Not at all.” She chuckles. “It was my pleasure.”

Y/N rings up his jeans, and Bucky watches her. Maybe he could ask if they want to hang sometime? No, that’s creepy. She’s just doing her job, not flirting. She doesn’t even feel the same about him.

“Can I get your number?” She smiles. Bucky goes red. Or maybe she does feel the same.

“I mean, we just met, but if you wanna…..” He stammers, pulling out his phone. Y/N’s eyes widen.

“Oh, not like that.” She gasps quickly. Immediately, Bucky's heart sinks. “I just mean it’s for our rewards program. When you give us your phone number, you receive points each time you shop. After a while, you get a discount. It’s a good deal.”

Right then, Bucky wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

“Oh! Oh, I-I mean…sure.” His skin is burning with embarrassment now, and he can’t wait to pay and get this over with.

Despite the second hand embarrassment flowing through her veins, the look on Bucky’s face makes Y/N’s face soften.

Honestly, she would give him her number. He may be just a customer, but there’s something different about him, something that seems to pull her closer to him.

“There you go.” Bucky quickly pays and takes the bag, ready to get out of here and home to Alpine. As he walks away, Y/N sighs. “Bye, Bucky.”

~ * ~

Later that day, Bucky takes out his new jeans. Alpine curls up in the empty shopping bag, swatting at the receipt. “Hey!” Bucky chuckles, pulling it away. “That’s not yours, buddy.”

As he lifts it up to put it away, trying to dodge his cat’s claws, Bucky spots something. A note is scribbled on the back of the receipt: 

Hope to see you again soon, Bucky. If you ever need style advice, you know where to find me. Y/N :)

Bucky grins, placing the receipt down.

He was looking for some new t-shirts, funnily enough.

~ * ~

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[thealexchen]

who the fUCK is that in the new LIS trailer bc thats not the max i know 😭 why does she look so different help

maybe its bc arcadia bay was known for its warm hues and this just feels completely different but even the art style was changed to look more generic :((

The main reason: they made Double Exposure Max more conventionally attractive. Ironically, while Max's redesign in Double Exposure tries to make her face more unique, it winds up making her more generically pretty.

LiS1 Max was deliberately designed to look like a young, plain and mousy teenage girl. She dressed simply and safely so as to not stand out. It conveyed her shyness, awkwardness, and indecisive nature and was an example of Dontnod's eye for character design.

This Max is... I dunno. Her design doesn't say anything. I'm not even that bothered that her hairstyle changed, but it's literally Steph's hairstyle on Max's head and doesn't communicate much about Max's personality as an adult. Same goes for her clothing-- as a teen, her graphic tees and plain gray hoodie immediately depicted her as a shy, youthful wallflower in an eclectic private art school. In Double Exposure, her wardrobe is indistinguishable from any other young working professional her age: a yellow beanie, a green peacoat, blue jeans, red and blue cardigans with feminine necklines.

As for the rest of her appearance, somehow her face shape has completely changed to become more slender, especially her jawline.

LiS1 Max, with her square jaw, distinct from her chin, and dark circles.

DE Max, who suddenly has filled out cheeks, with a softer jaw that blends into her chin.

In LiS1, Max had asymmetrical lips, with the bottom lip fuller than the top lip. In Double Exposure, her lips are fuller, rounder, and perfectly symmetrical. Her nose is also more symmetrical: wider, rounder, softer, and less pointed (especially between her nostrils) than her nose in LiS1. All of this serves to soften and feminize her appearance.

While freckles can fade naturally with age, in Double Exposure, Max's freckles are barely visible in most shots. She has flawless skin with an even more realistic skin texture than the models in True Colors (which looks uncanny to me, in my opinion).

But the main thing is her eye color. In LiS1, Max had medium blue eyes that did not particularly stand out against her skintone and hair color. During the warmly lit scenes like golden hour, her eyes are desaturated even further.

But in Double Exposure, Max's eyes are suddenly ice blue, unnaturally bright and piercing. Even in dark scenes, her eyes have a sparkle to them. Unfortunately, her eye design seems to be carried over from the "anime-fied" eyes in the remaster, which were larger, shinier, and brighter than the original game. The difference is truly astounding:

LiS1 Max's eyes, which had the same texture as the rest of her model. Her irises appear dark blue with little depth.

And now, DE Max's eyes, which have a distinct "glassy" texture compared to her skin and hair. Her irises are suddenly ice blue and the pupil is larger with a very bright reflection.

I know that D9 wants to show off a new "grown up Max" who has grown into her confidence and femininity with a more cleaned-up appearance. But Max was already done with puberty in the first game, so she wouldn't suddenly be sporting a softer jawline and filled out cheeks at 28 years old. This was a huge missed opportunity to instead depict the effects of accelerated aging due to stress and trauma on Max's face: sunken cheeks, dark circles, acne, skin discoloration, and forehead wrinkles. Instead, Max Caulfield got the Hollywood beauty treatment.

[metallicames]

New Year = New Fic 🎆 I was thinking of current James as I wrote this, but feel free to imagine James from any era. Hope you like it!

Thanks for the support @metalmaidenn and @holbrookswifey ❣️

New Year's Eve

Description: you and James are at a New Year's Eve party and it doesn't take long for things to heat up between the two of you.

Warnings: age gap (reader is 20 years younger), sex content, dirty talking.

⸻⭒⸱ 🖤 ⸱⭒⸻

"Five…four…three…two…one… Happy New Year!!! "James grabs your hips forcefully and kisses you tenderly, while everyone screams and dances, you couldn't have wished for a better start to the year: together with the person you love most in the world surrounded by your friends, the atmosphere is light and fun, you dance, moving sinuously in your gold mini dress and you enjoy the night.

James looks at you amused, you start to move in a mischievous way, brushing against his groin and every now and then you turn to look at him out of the corner of your eyes, giving him glances that leave little to the imagination, you want to tease him to see how he reacts, you turn towards him moving your hips and placing your arms intertwined behind his neck feeling his erection against your abdomen as you hold onto him following the music.

“You're getting into trouble” he says in your ear, grabbing your neck with one hand and squeezing it, you play with the buttons on his shirt slightly open on the chest which lets you see the tattoos on his broad chest. The smell of his perfume mixed with the scent of the cigar pervades your nostrils while you slowly look at him, enjoying every detail of his tall and imposing figure: his long legs wrapped in dark, tight jeans, the black shirt that reveals the tattoos on his arms and chest and which impeccably outlines his broad shoulders and then, going up a little, your gaze rests on his perfect smile highlighted by the mustache and beard that decorate his face. When your eyes meet his your breath gets stuck in your throat: the intense blue of his irises penetrates you and the depth of his gaze makes you waver. You wanted to tease him and play a little and in a few minutes you ended up thinking about how much you would like to have him inside you even just for a quickie.

The party continues, some of your friends approach and you start dancing together. James looks at you amused, every now and then you turn and see his eyes fixed on you while he smokes his cigar, slowly, enjoying its aroma. You feel the excitement making its way through your body every time his gaze triggers something inexplicable inside you, an almost animalistic instinct.

“Don't look at me like that…” you whisper in his ear as you dance, smiling at him.

“I'm thinking about what position to put you in as soon as we get to the hotel…” he tells you in a firm tone that squares every inch of your body. Your brain goes into blackout, James realizes the power he has over you, even after years you still feel like the first times, euphoric and excited every time he provokes you, in that exact moment you understand that it's time to leave the party.

You say goodbye to everyone hastily and leave the party getting into the car quickly, he enters first and drags you in, pulling your hand, you end up on top of him and he starts kissing you avidly, as if he could finally let off steam, he comes down with his hands on your buttocks and he squeezes forcefully making you let out a small moan.

You stop kissing him and move your face away to look at him better, stroking his hair with one hand while you start to slowly rub yourself against him, also helped by his hands gripping you tightly and guiding you against his bulge. The effect of the rough pants and his erection against your pussy is devastating, The light layer of lace of your panties is probably already soaked and makes the sensation even more intense and exciting.

As you move above him you feel him slide down, extenging one leg and with one foot he presses the divider button so that the driver doesn't peek. He looks at you with a cheeky smile and lifts your dress, shortly after pulling you towards him and kissing your breasts which were bouncing a few centimeters from his face.

He begins to bite and lick your already swollen nipples, making you emit small moans while you start rolling your hips on top of him again with a slow pace placing your hands on the seat next to his head.

Even though you're still fully clothed and you're just rubbing yourself against him, you feel dizzy, all your senses are heightened, you're in ecstasy and you know that it's the same for him too, you can tell by the way he's panting and the way he holds you close, scanning every inch of your body with his calloused fingertips.

When you are about to come, the car stops, you both look at each other in disbelief, panting and the door opens shortly after, the driver pretends not to see the state you are in but he certainly noticed your red faces, James' hair completely disheveled and the fact that you are straddling him.

“Good night, Messrs Hetfield,” he tells you in a composed and professional tone.

You walk through the hotel door almost running, go up the stairs as the lift is busy, you don't want to waste even a minute, the excitement is sky high.

You enter the room and James takes off his shirt almost tearing off the buttons and sits down heavily on the armchair.

"Come here and finish what you started" he tells you in an almost diabolical tone, slapping his hands on his thighs while he is sitting on the armchair in the dim light. You close the bedroom door and approach him while you take off your mini dress, remaining in your thong and heels, James at the same time hastily takes off his jeans and boxers. You stop in front of him and let the thong go down to yours ankles and kick it away, leaving yourself naked. James swallows loudly, whispering "Good god”.

You immediately straddle him, you don't want to waste time you're too excited, you start riding him taking all of him first slowly moving up and down staring James in the eyes while you keep your hands on his shoulders for more stability then you increase the pace slightly and the moans of you both also increase with the rhythm.

“Fuck yes… like that” he tells you, sighing as you momentarily rest your hands on his legs behind you, James brings his gaze down to get a better look at his cock sinking into you, his hands are gripping firmly on your buttocks and guides your movements by ensuring that your pelvis are fully engaged with each thrust.

The feeling of his cock inside you every time is overwhelming, James loves seeing you on top of him, seeing you take control and enjoy while you ride him following your rhythm, he becomes louder and enjoys every moment eating you with his eyes.

James grabs your breasts and watches them almost hypnotized as they bounce to your rhythm. From time to time you make circular movements with your pelvis, slow and sinuous which allow you to feel his erect cock against your walls even more "Damn, you turn me on so much when you ride me.. you have no idea..." He says before uttering a growl that confirms his words.

While your pelvises meet and you are completely entwined with each other as if you were one person, you begin to move back and forth, rubbing yourself against him while you kiss him hungrily, biting him and licking every portion of available skin, one of your hands ends up behind his neck and every now and then you pull a few locks of his hair making him emit moans.

Grinding against his pubis with his cock deep inside you sends you increasingly stronger shocks of pleasure that make you literally get goosebumps, you turn your head back panting louder and louder, knowing that you are really close, James bites your neck and leaves bites on the sides under your earlobes as he pants along with you.

“mhmmhh god James… I'm close..” you whisper. “Look me in the eyes while you come baby…” he orders you in a firm and decisive tone, holding your face with his fingers and forcing you to look at him.

You probably have a desperate and shocked expression on your face due to the orgasm that is approaching and he likes it, he likes to see you completely destroyed by the way he fills you and guides you towards the limit, keeping you attached to his pelvis with a firm hand on your hips and the other on your neck, squeezing it, making you breathless.

“Oh my God… God… God God” you exclaim as you come, pressing your body to his, continuing to grind frantically on his pubic area. Soon after, with an unexpected jerk he takes you and slams you against the edge of the bed in front of him and without even giving you time to recover he begins to push himself inside you in a deep and deliberate way, holding you tight and still with his powerful arms, you are still shaken by the orgasm which continues further making you breathless, you cling to his shoulders moaning and after a few thrusts James comes fully inside you shaken by tremors biting your shoulder panting "Ohhhh ffffuck".

You remain like this, breathing deeply, entwined with each other, slowly you rest your feet on the ground, James is still inside you kissing you softly and breathlessly.

“Happy New Year baby” he says, caressing your cheek with one hand, his voice still altered by the orgasm.

You kiss him, holding him close to you with your arms, enjoying the moment and the warmth of his body against yours.

- What a damn way to start the year - you think to yourself taking a deep breath.

[donatellawritings]

cherry - should be ripe - r. jerimovich

pairing(s): richie jerimovich x f!reader

warning(s): language, prescribed drug-use, age-gap

song: coming down by the weeknd

The gloomy skies, filled with heaps of troublesome rain brought a dull grey hue of light into your apartment as you whisked the thin curtains in your living room apart. The thin straps of your tote bag digging into your shoulder as you allowed the overfilled bag to rest on the glass surface of your dining table. It had been almost twenty-four hours since you’d last spoken to Richie. Almost twenty-four hours since you his raspy voice and dry tone haunted the depths of your mind. Almost twenty-four hours since you’d clung to every minute detail you could, of the older man, and you brought yourself to ecstasy.

The abrupt shrill of the alarm blaring through the speaker of your phone hastily broke you from your thoughts as you glanced at the time: 3:15PM. Rushing to silence the alarm, you placed your cellphone onto the dining table, a low sigh leaving your lips as you rummaged through your tote bag, pushing your fingers past your laptop and textbooks, sifting to the bottom of the bag, before your fingers grabbed ahold of your pill bottle.

As much as you hated it, you knew that you needed these pills. Your bouts with anxiety and depression left you a shell of yourself, a worrisome mess who couldn’t stop herself from fling as if the world was about to cave in. Your movement towards the refrigerator being purely muscle memory and fluid as you swiftly placed the pill into your mouth, flushing it down your throat within seconds. You need this - you can despise it, but you need it.

“Fuck,” you mumbled to yourself, leaving the pill bottle to sit on the glass table as you glanced at the time once more.

It was now 3:17PM, and you couldn’t help but wonder about Richie. Did he like you? Was he busy at work? Was he thinking about you? Did he also resort to using the memory of your voice to bring him to an orgasmic bliss? God, you could only imagine how pathetic you’d look if he knew - if anyone knew of your lustful tryst.

Maybe you should text him, let him know that you were thinking of him … or would that be too much, too soon?

Sliding your phone into the back pocket of your jeans, you made your way to the bathroom, stopping still before your mirror as you too in your appearance. Your hair was slick and smooth, courtesy of the hair salon that sat around the corner of your apartment, your tired eyes lined with black eyeliner, lips tinted from the faded lipstick that you applied earlier that morning.

A part of you ached with anticipation as you allowed your mind to wander, once more.

What would Richie think, if he happened to see you in this very moment?

Biting your lip, you’d decided that you would text him, maybe tease him and remind the older man that last night was real, that you were real.

-

i’m still real btw

Richie exhaled out a smoke laced laugh as he read over your message. The small cigarette held between Richie’s long fingers secured in place as he leaned against the brick wall of the restaurant. Richie carefully tapped the small bunch of ashes off of the tip of his cigarette. He hadn’t stopped thinking about you. In fact, he found himself to be a bit calmer in the usually hostile environment of The Bear, his usually noisy psyche now just a bit quieter as it became preoccupied with the thought of you.

Richie ran his calloused hand over his shaven face, clearing his throat as he typed his reply back to you, before sliding his phone into the pocket of his black slacks.

good to know. last night felt like a fucking dream

Pushing himself off of the wall, Richie grabbed the suit jacket that hung over his shoulder, sliding his arms through the sleeves as he shrugged the jacket so sit comfortably over his body. The sound of the back door creaking caused the blue eyed man to glance over, a smile now tugging on his lips as he watched Tina, one of his most endeared coworkers exit the building.

“You heading out, T?” Richie called out, approaching the older woman as he pressed his cheek to hers with a kiss.

Tina warmly cupped her hand to Richie’s cheek, before pulling away with a huff, “Yeah, I have to go see my niece today, but you did good today, papa,” she consoled.

Richie opened his mouth to speak, the vibration of his phone hitting his leg as straightened his back, giving all of his attention to the woman before him.

“Shit, okay, uh - y’need a ride?” Richie offered, his fingers working to button the center of his ironed suit jacket.

Tina paused, pondering for a few seconds, before shaking her head with a thankful smile, “I should be good, Richie - thank you,” she politely declined.

“You sure?”

Tina laughs, proceeding to walk away from Richie, “I will see you tomorrow, Jeff.”

Richie watches closely as Tina walks away, a second vibration hitting his thigh causing his eyes to widen as he slid his hand into his pocket, “fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

it did. do you have time to it again tonight?

will have to be later though … i’m having company over :)

A small pang of jealous hit Richie’s chest, but was quickly diminished with a shake of his head. You’re not his, he barely fuckin’ knew you, not yet, at least. He really shouldn’t give a fuck who you have at your apartment, but there was still a small part of Richie that itched to know if it was another guy. Surely, you weren’t dumb enough to openly tell Richie about your plans, if it involved another man, but fuck, the dating scene these days was pretty brutal.

Richie hastily typed his response, the ounce of chill that he held onto throughout the duration of the day now dissipating as he stuffed his phone into his pocket, before entering the building and allowing the door to slam shut behind him.

have fun.

-

A swirl of anxiety ran rampant in your stomach as you read over Richie’s message - did you say something wrong? Your top set of teeth gnawed at the skin of your bottom lip as you rushed to respond. Maybe Richie wasn’t upset, maybe you were just overthinking those two words and adding a value to them that simply didn’t exist.

Deciding to leave the situation alone, you distracted yourself. Placing your headphones over your ears, you raised the volume to its maximum setting, before tidying random areas of your small apartment, despite it already being close to spotless. Whether it be shifting a random vase to sit at a different angle, or smoothing your hand over the pillows that decorated your hand-me-down sofa, you distracted yourself as much as you could.

So, you gave yourself two more tasks: make some coffee and change your clothes. Grabbing saucepan and a canister of Café Bustelo from your kitchen cabinet, you prepared the coffee, allowing the water to come to a boil before mixing in the coffee grounds. The strong scent of coffee filled your apartment as you made your way to your bedroom, quickly swapping out your jeans and long sleeve for a tank top and leggings that hugged your curves just right.

The sound of the front door unlocking jolted you as you ran your fingers through your hair, “give me one second!” You shouted, quickly spraying yourself with the nearest bottle of perfume that sat on your vanity.

“It smells good in here, mamita!” Your aunt called out from the living room, the jingle of her keys hitting your coffee table like music to your ears.

You quickly rushed out of your bedroom, the sight of the short, curly-haired woman whom you’ve been blessed to have as your guardian angel aunt bringing a smile to your lips. Tina's eyes widened with pride as her bright brown eyes took in your matured appearance - you hadn’t seen each other in about six months, six months that felt like six years.

Pulling you into a hug with a hum of joy, Tina pressed a kiss to your cheek, her eyes glazed with happiness as she pulled away slightly, giving herself another chance to take you in, “You look so good, mama, wow!” Your aunt cooed.

Wordlessly, you nodded, before pulling your aunt in for one more hug, “I missed you, titi.”

The two of you held each other for a beat, before Tina pulled away, setting her coat down onto the sofa, before making her way into the kitchen, “Café Bustelo? Somebody’s been following her aunt’s footsteps,” she teased.

“Of course, titi,” you smiled.

Tina grabbed two mugs from your dish rack, carefully pouring each of you a steaming cup of the pure caffeine. A comfortable silence fell between the two of you as she nodded towards your dining table, setting the two mugs down side by side as you both took your respective seats.

You silently thanked your aunt with a nod, before bringing the hot mug to your lips, taking short sip of the steaming coffee, watching as Tina’s eyes fell on the pill bottle that remained on the dining table.

Tina pauses, setting her mug onto the table, “Everything’s okay?” She questioned.

“Yeah, everything’s okay.” You sighed.

-

Richie’s day went to shit, the moment he re-entered the renovated building. Maybe it was the fact that the measly three hours of sleep that he’d gotten had caught up with him, or, perhaps it was the fact that he’d given too much of a fuck about what a girl he hadn’t even met in person yet was doing at her apartment. Truth be told, it was both, but Richie would never admit to it - he had too much pride.

Now, Richie stood in front of the mirror in his dimly lit bathroom, his eyes low and jaw clenched as he aimlessly kept his eyes on the reflection before him. He needed sleep and he knew that better than anyone, his bloodshot eyes hung low while he stared, his mind teetering back and forth with whether or not he should give you the benefit of the doubt.

And so, he did. Deciding to break the tension, Richie reached for his phone, sending you a peace offering message.

-

The company of your aunt was much needed, you didn’t remember the last time you laughed this much, or even felt one-hundred percent safe. The two of you were currently recovering from a fit of uncontrollable laughter, thanks to an exaggerated recounting of a childhood memory, courtesy of Tina. Just as the two of you steadied you breathing, the hum of your cellphone vibrating against the dining table caused the both of you to glance at your phone.

You opened your mouth to speak, a blush creeping to your cheeks as you slid your phone towards you, Tina decides to push, “anyone special?”

You lick over your suddenly dry lips with a forced laugh, “uh, I’m not sure.”

Tina leans forward, cradling your face in her warm hands, “promise me that you’ll be careful, okay?” She spoke, her voice stern, yet still loving.

“I promise-”

“No, I mean it, querida. Don’t let any of these guys fuck with your heart, okay? You’re too good for that,” She continued, her eyes pleading with yours.

“I promise.” You confirm, more to yourself than to your aunt.

“Good,” she pulls away, standing from the table as she collects her coat from the couch, “well, I’m going to leave you to have some alone time,” Tina returns to you, pressing her lips to the top of your head.

“I love you, thank you for coming,” you mutter, a wave of sadness crashing over you as your aunt pulls away and makes her way towards the front door.

“I love you too, I’ll be back in a few days, okay mamita?” She calls out, blowing a kiss to you, “make sure to lock up!”

And with that, the front door closed shut, you walked towards the door, ensuring it was properly locked before making your way back to the dining table. A stray tear managed to slip down your cheek as you let out a shaky breath.

“Ugh, don’t cry,” you scolded yourself, wiping your tears with the sides of your index fingers as you reached for your phone.

didn’t meant to be such a fuckin dick

i’ll be awake if u wanna talk

-

Richie stood at his window, watching as random cop cars blared their sirens down the street. Dressed in a Chicago Bulls jersey and black track pants, Richie adjusted his gold chain to sit comfortably over his chest. It had been about ten minutes since he texted you, his mind wracking with theories on who it was you were seeing and what is was that you were doing when the blare of his ringtone brought him out of his thoughts.

Fuck, he didn’t realize you’d actually call him, let alone this fast.

Suddenly wound up with anticipation, Richie accepted your call, biting back the smile that threatened to pull on his face, once you came into view. You looked so fuckin’ pretty.

Richie remained silent, taking note of the smudged makeup that stained your eyes just right, the way that your previously curly hair from the night before had been straightened, he also noticed that your eyes were puffy, silently praying that he wasn’t the reason for your tears.

It was Richie who decided to speak first, “I, uh, I’m sorry about earlier,” he began, leaning against the window sill, “I barely fuckin’ slept and I just-”

“I couldn’t sleep, either.” Your voice cut in.

Shit, Richie could melt right where he stood. He’d give anything to hear your voice for hours on end. Richie was a greedy fuck, and he knew that, yet he just needed to hear more from you - he craved it.

“You couldn’t?” He questioned.

With a short nod, you answered, “yeah, I mean, it just took a lot for me to actually fall asleep, y’know?” You stammered nervously, leaving Richie to wonder what it actually took for you to go to sleep, and if it was the same thing that rewarded him with those three hours of rest.

“Sorry to hear that, sweetheart.”

-

Sweetheart. The way the word rolled off of Richie’s hellish tongue with was smooth and silky, it inched its way towards your core. You couldn’t help but smile at the simple, yet earnest choice of wording.

You noticed Richie’s eyes, their bloodshot state more intense than the previous night, yet you decided to change the subject, “I really hope that I didn’t make you upset earlier, I didn’t mean t-”

Richie huffed, “nah, I was just being a fuckin’ jagoff, please don’t even worry yourself about that, alright?”

You remained quiet.

Richie shifts the camera, clearing his throat, “why don’t you tell me about your day, yeah? I see your hair looks different.”

Richie searched for anything, anything to break you away from that newfound wall of shyness that you had, guarding yourself from him.

You were still miles away, the usually comfortable loneliness that filled your home, now suddenly becoming a bit too apparent to you, following your visit from your aunt.

Yet, you answered the blue eyed man, “I got my hair done today, thank you for noticing.” You smiled softly, not wanting to scare Richie off with your sudden influx of emotions.

-

Richie felt like shit, a total fuckin’ jagoff. In his mind, he was the reason for your quietness - he got overzealous, too greedy. He didn’t mean to push you away - he’s just played the game too many times, hell, he was married once and that failed, so could you blame him for his romance woes?

“Well, listen, I’m sorry, alright?” Richie began, “I’m pretty good at fuckin’ things up and I don’t want to do that with you-“

“Richie, I am not mad at you,” you quickly interjected, “it’s just - today has been a lot, and I guess it just caught up with me.”

Thank fucking god, Richie lets out breath that he wasn’t even aware that he was holding in.

“But, tell me about you, I want to hear about your day.” You asked, inching a bit closer to the camera.

“I dropped my daughter off at school this morning, then I was at the fuckin’ restaurant all day which was a fuckin’ mess - seemed like I’m the only one who keeps shit together at that fuckin’ place,” Richie rambled, completely lost in his on words that he didn’t even realize that you’d moved to your bed.

-

You’d grown fond of Richie’s voice - it was raw, his tone rough and blunt as he spoke every word with conviction. Hearing him drone on and on about his series of events lulled you into a peaceful trance as you blankly stared at the camera, half-awake.

It wasn’t until your eyelids grew heavy that Richie’s voice caused your eyes to open fully.

“You should get some sleep, sweetheart, I could talk to you to death some other time,” Richie teased, you’d assumed he’d made his way to his own bed by the sudden change of scenery.

“No, I’m awake, I promise,” you argued.

Richie shook his head, “and I’ll be around when you wake up and feel like talking again, I promise.”

As you both voiced your farewells for the night, you couldn’t help but smile as you gazed up at the ceiling of your bedroom, endlessly hoping that Richie would keep his promise. It was as of this very moment that you knew that it would only be a matter of time before your need for him wouldn’t be fulfilled by mere phone calls, but by physical touch.

-

Richie couldn’t help but smile, silently thanking the dark environment of his bedroom for concealing his slip-up, “this fuckin’ girl,” he exhaled, allowing his eyes to flutter close.

He needed more of you. Fuck that, he ached for more of you - he’s a 45 year old man who knows what he wants and you’re slowly becoming more apparent in those plans. He had no time to waste, despite today’s minor setback - Richie had turned over a new leaf and was working on doing better being better for the restaurant. Slowly working on being more present for his daughter - and being less of a bitter jagoff to those he cared about most.

So that settled things into finality, for Richie. He needed to see you, to see if you’d be any different. in a face-to-face proximity. The thought of asking you on a date terrified him, his previous unsuccessful attempts now ringing in the back of his mind as he unlocked his phone.

Richie rushed to call you once again - quickly glancing at the time on his alarm clock: 9:23PM, Richie raised his phone to his ear, allowing it to ring, before he could pussy-out.

-

The shrill of your ringtone filled your ears, ripping you out of your light sleep as looked at your phone screen through squinted eyes - it was Richie.

Accepting the call, you brought your phone to your ear, “hi, Richie,” you spoke, your voice raspy from your short lap of rest.

“Hi, I know you’re sleeping, but, uh, I just wanted to ask you somethin’,” Richie huffed.

“Okay.”

“Okay, uh, I was thinking that maybe I could take you out to dinner one of these days,” Richie, began, his nervous stammers bringing a smile to your face, “y’know it doesn’t have to be too fancy, unless you’re into that, fuck, uh-”

With a laugh, you interrupted, “I’d love to go out for dinner, Richie.”

“Okay, yeah, yeah- uh, how about Friday?” He questioned, facepalming himself on the other side of the phone.

“Friday works for me.”

“Alright, I’ll pick you up, just send me your, uh, your address and we’ll sort the rest out … tomorrow?”

“Yes, Richie.” You agreed, your stomach flipping with an anxious excitement as you licked over your lips.

The two of you exchanged a round of awkward nervous goodbyes before you hung up for the night. It would be four days from now. Four days until you’d stand in the same room as Richie, breathe in the same air as him. Four days until you’d see whether or not your chemistry would exceed the confines of your cellphones.

The excitement was tantalizing, the slight fear that bit at you just adding the to delicious wave of anticipation that washed over you.

Four days. Four days and you would have all of the answers you’d need to see if it would be worth it to keep this affair going. Lord knows, you wanted it to keep going. Maybe you were just as greedy as the older man with tired blue eyes that had come to plague your mind.

You’d just wished that those four days would come and go fast enough.

-

that’s it for part 2 of this series - sorry if its a bit long, i was just really excited to explore the characters a bit just to give them some background lol <3 thank you for the much appreciated support on part 1, i can’t wait to publish part 3!

[sunflowersunite]

Here for the headcanon game, and as usual I've got a lot to ask 😁

☾ - Eren, Armin, Erwin, Mike, Mikasa

★ - Erwin, Pieck

▼ - Hange, Mike

Hellooo Swordslinger! Thank you for indulging me in this fine day in this fine game and sorry for the late response, I wanted to think about this in depth 😁

I had way too much fun coming up with these, the plethora of characters presented here is so interesting!! It sparked my creativeness and I always love a challenge so without further ado

sleep headcanons

☾ Eren: he's the type to have the wildest dreams influenced by the whirlwind of emotions that drive him, and they're so vivid that he believes them to be true the next morning. He dreamt humanity defeated the titans and he was the most joyous he's ever been the next day. When he dreamt Hange dissected him with a cactus, he avoided her all week. His top dreams also include:

Connie stuffing his socks with molten cheese

Sasha munching on the flesh of his thigh and nibbling on his femur (it was terrifying)

Levi kicking him to the point of complete obliteration and Mike inhaling the remains (that happened after the jury scene)

Mikasa dating Jean. This one wasn't that extraordinary but Eren was mad at Mikasa for a whole day and he didn't even know why. He doesn't care, right...?

☾ Armin: he curls up in a fetal position, rolled up in a colourful blanket and he's warm and adorable, he must be protected at all costs. The 104th invented a game where the objective was to pick up Armin and carry him round like a baby while doing the craziest challenges like hopping on one leg or doing a handstand or having freezing water poured down their backs. The winner was whoever could do all that with Armin remaining asleep for the longest time. Reiner won more often, Connie lost all the time.

☾ Erwin: he's a sleep talker. that man hasn't slept soundly since the dawn of time, always on about the next day's mission while unconscious. You can even strike up conversations with him, Hange has tried and it's hilarious. he slurs out "charge" every two sentences into the discussion. he's even sleepwalked a few times; and trust me, it's not a sight you want to come across, your Commander emerging from the darkness clad in a nightgown and barefoot, terrifying blue eyes blown wide, staring into your soul, hearing

"charge"

loud and clear before returning to his room calmly and still asleep. it's happened to a soldier and they couldn't look Erwin in the eye again. it's also happened to Mike and he just said "ok" with a flat face and guided Erwin back to his room.

☾ Mike: he doesn't really like sleeping, it feels uncomfortable. He himself doesn't know the reason but I'll let you in on a secret; you can't smell anything while asleep and thus Mike is out of his comfort zone. Also he sleeps with his arms crossed, don't tell me it doesn't make sense. He instinctively wants to make himself smaller to fit on the standard sized military beds, because Mike is always bigger than any bed he finds himself in. After confirming his unbelievable strength and calculating the possibilities of Mike dying soon (very few), Erwin ordered him a bigger bed.

☾ Mikasa: if no threat is involved, Mikasa sleeps like a log. She might not look it because every time she's ordered to wake up she can be ready within minutes, but when nobody's in danger don't you dare separate her from the shadows that have claimed her. she often seeks beside her for something familiar to hold onto, usually Eren or Armin or after she joined the military, her scarf. She and Eren make a perfect sleeping match because she holds onto him tightly, stopping his neurotic moves, and eventually her calm heartbeat slows down his own too.

And they sleep soundly like they deserve 😀

sad headcanons

★ Erwin: in the end he was revealed to be driven by selfishness, able to send hundreds of soldiers out in the battle to die. it's easier for him than breathing to sacrifice people for what he wants to achieve. maybe it's because those deaths, those murders could never rival his very first; the murder of his own father. the twelve year old boy inside him never picked up the pliers to torture his father, the knife to end his life, but let his tongue loose, lead him to prison, lead him to his death. Erwin might pretend otherwise, he might wear the facade of the numb and fearless Commander, but the twelve year old boy never healed, never escaped the guilt. He gave up on Marie in his youth because all he does, all he can do, is to hurt those he loves. Maybe he doesn't deserve to be loved. Maybe he deserves to give up on his dream and die (his thoughts, not mine)

★ Pieck: (Pieck! I wasn't expecting her but she's welcome to the party, you're feeling bold today Mina. Either you know i'm fond of that sassy titan shifter or you're trying to catch me by surprise. Either way, i can find sad headcanons for everyone, so gotcha 😁)

Relationships scare her and I don't mean romance, I mean anything. Her mother isn't in the picture and her father is sick, Pieck lives with the fear of losing him. She trusted her comrades with her life, and they died. She was friends with Marcel, with Berthold, with Annie. They didn't return. Reiner did but he might as well have stayed back because all that returned home was a husk.

Porco died, which hurt more than she expected it to (she always kept his jacket). Pieck sometimes wishes she didn't care as much, she envies Annie for her stoicism and wishes she didn't get attached so easily, hopes friendships and love and care didn't scar her deeper than titan marks.

childhood headcanons

▼ Hange: she scolded literally anyone around her who smoked since she found out it's bad for one's health. She stole and threw away cigarette packs (even the expensive ones without batting an eyelash, a child doesn't give a damn about money and Hange Zoe surely never did) and proudly received the beating afterwards, gritting her teeth, because she knew she was doing the right thing long term. Maybe that's why she became estranged with her family, who knows 🤔

Unbeknownst to her, Hange started an anti smoking campaign among the neighbourhood kids who continued her legacy after she left.

Yeah Hange can't stand smoking

▼ Mike: he started speaking at six, maybe seven, much too late for a child to utter his first words. He studied the world around him attentively but couldn't speak to communicate with it, all his thoughts locked inside his own mind. For that, he was considered different and odd by some, including his parents. they took him to doctors, even the church of the walls eventually, to cure him. Mike himself didn't mind, he knew he'd speak when ready. He met Hange at some point in his childhood and she didn't care if he spoke or not, she played with him nonetheless. they communicated by signing random things in a sign language they made up on the spot, and by drawing on the dirt. They never met again until the army where they reunited happily, this time communicating vocally (but keeping in mind their private sign language for boring office meetings or teasing. Hange once kept signing "banana" over the assembly hall during lunch and Mike was mortified the entire time)

Thanks again Min! This was so much fun! 😉

headcanon ask game!

[94perreaults]

INITIAL CONDITIONS l GP94

CHAPTER ONE OF THE PERREAULT PARADOX

SUMMARY: Sophia tags along to a BC bar to help Naomi avoid her ex, expecting nothing but sticky floors and bad drinks. Instead, she meets Gabe Perreault.

a/n: Hi! Thank you for reading. I had been keeping this for myself for months, thinking If I should create this account, go back to writing and maybe post this. Eventually, I decided to give this a shot. I've been out of tumblr for a while,— since I've stopped being Kpop-obssesed— so this is my comeback. If you read this so far, thanks! I hope you like it! Likes, reblogs and asks are always welcomed!

In math, “initial conditions” are the values that define the starting point of a function or equation — the moment where everything begins.

Sophia Davenport-Hartman did not believe in fate, serendipity, or anything that couldn't be backed up by a well-drawn model. She liked things she understood, things that made sense. That's why she liked math. One plus one will always equal two — and she could tell you exactly why. That's also why she had no excuse for ending up in a bar that's a 15 minute drive away from Cambridge and smelled like cheap cologne, beer, and sweat. TNo model explained that one, no matter how much she tried.

"Remind me again why we’re here?” she asked, quick steps following her shorter friend inside.

Naomi, her best friend and recent dumpee of Thomas, an asshole Harvard computer science major with commitment issues, a God complex, and the emotional depth of a teaspoon, grinned. “Because Harvard bars are infested with exes. BC is fresh territory.”

Sophia grimaced. “So is Chernobyl.”

Sophia stood at 5'8 and looked exactly like someone who color-coded her Google Calendar (she does). Blonde hair in polished waves, sharp posture, blue eyes, pale skin with rosy cheeks. She wore a sleek black satin top, high-waisted jeans, leather boots, and a black leather jacket she probably took from her older sister's closet (as she often did).

Naomi was only five feet, but like Sabrina Carpente said, she left an impression. She was all confidence and chaos. Her long, dark brown hair fell in effortless waves, framing green eyes that always looked like they were up to something. She wore a red halter top, vintage jeans, and heels that barely made a dent in her height.

Even if everything within her was screaming at her to turn around and go back home, Sophia followed Naomi anyway, walking into the chaos of the bar. It was dimly lit, overcrowded, and somehow managed to be both sticky and cold. In other words: her personal hell.

She scanned the room like a disapproving anthropologist,— maybe she had been watching too much Bones, maybe she was becoming too much like Temperance Brennan. Looking around, silently calculating how long she needed to stay before it was socially acceptable to grab Naomi, call it a night and get an Uber.

Twenty-three minutes, maybe. Thirty-five if Naomi started dancing.

Sophia sipped her tragically watered down vodka soda and leaned against a high-top table that wobbled every time someone bumped into it. And then — just as she was deciding if she could fake food poisoning — she saw him.

He was laughing with his friends. Backwards hat. Messy curls. That look—like life was a game he’d already won, and he was just hanging around to enjoy the bonus levels.

He threw his head back laughing at something one of his friends said, full-bodied and unapologetic, like someone who hadn’t had a single existential crisis in his life.

She rolled her eyes and looked away. Then, for some reason she couldn’t quite justify, she felt the urge to look back. So, she did. And he was already looking at her.

Their eyes met just long enough to register the heat of it—before she turned back to her drink, suddenly fascinated by the condensation on her glass. 

Great. Got caught staring at the hot guy like a psycho. Great work, Sophia.

She knew she shouldn't have looked. It was stupid, she knew his type. Overconfident. Underdressed. Overhyped. He was exactly the kind of chaos she avoided.

And yet—there he was, walking toward her. And before she could escape, he was standing in front of her. Tall. Athletic. Looking at her — like she was a particularly interesting variable in an unsolvable equation. Curls escaping from his backwards cap. Curiosity tucked behind sharp green eyes.

With a backwards BC hockey hat.

Of course. A hockey player.

Oh, she thought, one of those.

“Gabe,” he said, offering a hand “Figured I should introduce myself before you spend the rest of the night pretending not to look at me again.”

She blinked.

She didn’t shake hands with strangers in bars. She also didn’t find hockey players cute. Or charming. Or interesting. And yet—here she was, slipping her hand into his without hesitation.

“Sophia.”

And just like that, the equation shifted.

[f4ggydog]

duuude. what are your headcanons abt transmasc!yj?? like, long hair for nat (100% real, i was blowing him the other night-), or or, their respective style; if it would change after transitioning, ’n shit like this 🥰.

just need to get crazy over my fav boys.

shit let me try to go as in depth as I can

nat: nat would keep his hair long and it would be a mullet, but the ends would be died black or brown. he’s got a small mustache growing on his lips and he’s got a big happy trail :3 nat’s got a very typical transmasc style (yknow the one with the big cargo shorts and the oversized band tee or a black tee) he dresses pretty grunge and if he’s wearing pants, he’ll add a keychain or carabiner to it. he likes wearing a lot of black and olive green and brown with his outfits.

taissa: most of taissa’s body hair is on his legs. he’d cut his hair short and would often wear ‘jock’ sorts of outfits like varsity/letterman jackets. tai keeps his style simple but very sporty and clean. taissa likes a lot of blue and red with her looks with an occasional brown.

misty: misty would cut his curly hair short too (it’d look something like the pic I’ll paste below) misty would have a very ‘soft boi uwu’ transmasc Steven universe sort of style😭😭😭lots of pastels, sweaters with button up shirts underneath, cuffed jeans, flowery patterns. he’d also wear a lot of accessories like colorful bracelets on his wrist or a geeky necklace. misty would very tumblr-esque if that makes any sense, very picrew avatar vibes. misty would also have the least body hair out of all of them.

van: Van’s style is basically Adam Sandler. anything that looks reminiscent to an Adam Sandler fit is what Van’s ass fucks around with. van leaves his hair long and keeps it down. he’s got some hair near his chin and he’s got sideburns growing in as well.

shauna: Shauna’s got the most body hair out of the group and he wears that shit proudly. (she has the most on her armpits) Shauna’s obsessed with flannel and button ups but also really likes to throw on a wife beater with some worn out jeans. he’s a fan of the cargo shorts too when it gets hot out and she also likes to keep a little necklace around her neck. shauna doesn’t cut his hair, but often ties it back in a ponytail and doesn’t like to keep it down.

jackie: Jackie’s style is often very preppy, fucks heavily with the collared shirts and the sweater vests. he dresses like a rich kid attending a private school and even tho he’s got more body hair than misty, he doesn’t have quite as much as the rest of the gang. jackie also really likes polo shirts or a pair of khakis.

and lastly LOTTIEEEE (lottie and taissa were the hardest since they are pretty fem overall cause even jackie has her masc moments):

Lottie’s also got a mustache growing on her upper lip (he can match with nat) and his style is very similar to Jackie’s. lottie also goes for a preppy look and enjoys sweaters (especially ones with buttons) (tho not the vest part). lottie’s hair is styled as a wolfcut. he’s also very much the type to tie his sweater around his back as an outfit.

I hope I did well these are just my thoughts dont crucify me!!!

[panfroggy]

Zombie Apocalypse AU Character Stuff!

Im still on this so here we go.

The original post for this to make more sense is HERE

Here is general character stuff! Some appearance stuff but mostly character. Some appearance specifics at the end though!

Charles Xavier. Age 30. 

Charles is the main POV 1. He is your typical Xavier in FC. Witty and charming but a deeply caring person. He’s out of his depth with travelling, he grew up rich as hell, remember, and I imagine that his appearance will slowly become more and more like DOFP Charles esc

His character arc is very much acting as a shepherd to everyone he meets but also struggling with the violence of the world and his reluctance to use his powers offensively. He acts as a guide for most of the people he comes across and is just trying to do right. This relation is seen most obviously with Alex, Jean, and Logan. Obviously he has a whole thing with getting close with Erik because they have the shared trait of caretaking but opposite views of violence. 

Erik Lensherr. Age 33

Main POV 2. FC/Apocalypse typical Erik. Closed off and harsh but he has a deep care for those closest to him. In my head he’s just typical Erik appearance, nothing crazy from the apocalypse.

He is just fine with all the travelling  but has much more issues with wrangling children. His tendency for violence is constantly getting interrupted by all the people he has to deal with. His big arc is definitely just calming down and letting himself relax in this crazy world. 

Raven Darkholme. Age 27.

She’s lowkey more of a mix between OG trilogy Raven and NewTrilogy Raven. Serving cunt at all times even though it's the apocalypse. She is usually in her true blue form but shifts whenever there are others around they don’t know/trust. 

Raven starts off this au Very snobby and selfish. She doesn’t care about any of this, she doesn’t want to travel with anyone but Charles. Overtime she will get out of this. Mostly thanks to the kids. Ultimately culminating in her self sacrifice for them.

Alex Summers. Age 21

FC typical appearance but his hair is getting longer and longer. Alex is really a first half character but he’s still important. He’s overprotective of his brother and trying to do whats best. A lot of it is just finding himself and doing what’s right. Lot of his bonding is with Raven. His decision to stay with FC hurts but he’s doing what he wants. Keeping Scott safe and finding a place they can call home together.

Logan Howlett, Age ???

Typical scruffy scruffy Wolverine. So mad, like genuinely he is pissed at everyone except Kurt, Jubilee and Kitty. He’s basically having to be re-civilized since he’s been thriving as a crazy wilderness man again. However he’s having to relax and keep going for the girls. The people who set him on the right path are Cherik + Kurt. Kurt is basically Logan’s common sense buddy. 

Kurt Wagner. Age 24. 

Blue elf! Some other things that are for later. Kurt is weirdly normal for being here. He’s kind of an anchor that helps all these highly emotional people. He’s mainly just trying to keep the people he loves safe. He’s careful with the kids and gentle with the adults. Honestly helping people is his main thing. 

Wanda and Peter. Age 11.

Wanda has dark dark curly red hair and is a spitfire child. Peter has typical silvery white hair and is going too fast all the time. They are a handful, two halves a whole. Wanda is quieter and more polite but she is Mean in the way all preteens are mean. Peter is loud and unruly but he means well. They’re only big conflict/character moment is at the facility where they’re fighting and Peter lets them do the tests on him first so they could practice and maybe wouldn’t have to go so deep because he could “heal fast itll be fine”. Just trying to live their lives,

Scott Summers.  Age 14.

Ima be honest, he is primarily a plot device for Alex and Charles. He’s just wants his life back and to help him brother. He does have a tiny crush on Jean tho, its sweet and silly and reminds the elders that life is going on despite the horrors. 

Jean Grey. Age 15.

Oh poor girly. She's been through it!!! Her arc is learning not to blame herself for everything. Mainly through the help of Cherik and Wanda she accepts that it’s not her fault. She’s terrified of her powers and of accidentally hurting someone again. Unlike most telepaths, she has minor control over infected people due to being the originator of it all. Unfortunately it’s not very strong and she freaks every time she tries.

Not gonna go into depth but! At some point they do run into Rouge and Remy. In this interaction we learn Remy is bit but they’re hiding it and uh… A Lot Happens that day. Lemme know if you wanna know more! 

Appearance Tidbits

Long hair Raven, I mean everyone’s hair has grown out a bit but like LONG hair raven because I said so. 

Kurt has some major scarring he obtained when he and Logan got caught in a massive brawl of survivors in the city they were passing. His teleportation worked but it was impossible to see where he was going. He got them out but with Logan's claws in him and very cut up. He’s pretty banged up, looks very much like he’s been through hell but stays relentlessly kind.

Jean has scars on her temples from breaking the machine she was hooked into. Starburst type ones.

Wanda’s bite is on her arm. It now just looks like a regular bite scar instead of the festering wound it is for most people. 

Jubilee is actually missing her left arm. Why? She got bit and Logan/Kurt decided that the best course of action was unfortunately to cut it off. She is still in bandages from it because neither of them really know how to handle an amputation. 

Alex has scarring/burns around his torso from excessive power use when getting out of a hoard. He rarely uses them now. 

Some less important people things: Angel’s wings are badly cut up and she currently can't fly. Hank is perma-blue and doesn’t have the serum that lets him obtain a normal appearance. Emma’s diamond form is fractured and she can’t hold it very long anymore.

Yeah! Hope this makes a lick of sense. Lemme know whatcha think :3

I want to yap about this so bad plz ask me anything i mean anything lololols.

[jtargaryen18]

The House of Shadowed Roses ~ Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Words: 3k

Pairing: Edward (Loosely based off a “A Different Man”) x Live-in Companion Reader M/F

You're a vet-med student taking a gap year to work in a local animal hospital. When the very old apartment building you've been living in is condemned, you have to find another place to live fast. You find a beautiful mansion where the owner, a man with an unfortunate disfiguring condition, says you can live if you agree to run errands for him on occasion. There's a hot handyman who also lives there who doesn't seem to like you, but Edward couldn't be nicer. It's just too good to be true.

What's the old saying? If it's too good to be true, it usually is...

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site.

"White demon, where's your selfish kiss? White demon sorrow will arrange Let's not forget about the fear Black invitation to this place that cannot change While strangely holy, come for a rain Darling" - A White Demon Love Song, The Killers

As you suspected, Edward's home was a sight by the light of day. The stunning white mansion, its pristine walls glowing softly in the sunlight, stood proudly in the center of a sprawling, perfectly manicured lawn. The lush green grass was so uniform and so well maintained that it looked almost like velvet. Surrounding the house were elegant flower beds, bursting with color - roses, hydrangeas, and tulips arranged in perfect harmony, a vibrant contrast to the mansion's crisp white facade.

Strategically placed among the winding stone pathways were intricately shaped topiaries, each sculpted in artful designs, some shaped like spiraling towers, others like playful animals. The scent of fresh blooms fills the air while the towering oak trees at the edge of the property provided a sense of quiet privacy. Looking around, you didn't see any other homes, even off in the distance.

Your heart swelled with hope in your chest as you took in the combination of white mansion, colorful flower beds, and perfectly-formed topiaries that evoked a sense of elegance and timeless beauty. This was your home now and it was a massive upgrade from the sad, now condemned building you just moved out of it. Edward's home, honestly, looked like paradise.

"Can I help you?" 

The sound of that deep voice had you turning to find a tall, handsome man with a strong, muscular build that hinted at years of hands-on work. His short sandy hair was slightly tousled, perfectly complementing the well-groomed beard that added a rugged charm to his appearance. What truly stood out to you where his striking blue eyes, the kind that caught the light and held depths of both intensity and warmth. They reminded you of a clear sky on an autumn day. His fitted gray T-shirt clung to his muscular chest and arms, his worn jeans and work boots had a couple of greasy smudges. The toolbelt slung low on his hips completed the look, made you realize that he was a worker here. The man stood there eyeing you too, carrying the confidence of a man who was good at what he did. 

Edward hadn't mentioned anyone else. 

"Hi there," you said, giving him your name. You held out a hand but he just crossed his muscular arms across the wide expanse of his chest. Awkwardly, you pulled your hand back. Apparently, Edward hadn't mentioned you to him either.

"Can I help you?" he repeated.

"I'm the new tenant," you explained. "I met with Edward about the rooms this week and we agreed I'd move in this weekend."

He rolled his eyes. "Of course he did." You thought he muttered "fuck" beneath his breath.

You weren't sure what this was about. Maybe it didn't even have anything to do with you personally. But his low-key animosity threw cold water on your excitement about moving into your new home.

"I don't expect you to help," you said, in case that made any difference. "He said I didn't need to call and I could move in this weekend... I don't mean to be a bother."

Still looking put out, he marched off in the direction of the house. No welcome. No 'please, let me show you around.' Nothing. 

What were you supposed to do? Call Edward to let him know you were there? You didn't know who the handsome bastard that walked away was - he did have a nice ass. But was he about to mess up your arrangement here? If this fell through, you had nowhere else to go.

You stood by your SUV like an idiot in the long elegant drive in front of the house. Did you start moving stuff in? Should you drive back to your current apartment - you only had two days left there - and try to call Edward, speak to him about it.

The man you'd just talked to slammed his way through the front door of the mansion. You'd seen no sign of Edward. Nerves were starting to get the best of you. You were just about to climb back into your car when the front door opened and Edward stepped out onto his front porch, calling your name. Hoping this meant good news, you walked around your vehicle to join him on the porch. His condition made it hard to read his expressions, but you were hoping he'd come out to clear things up.

"Are you ready to move in?" Edward asked. It sounded like he was smiling.

Edward was taller than you remembered, his broad shoulders nearly as wide as the doorway behind him. His long-sleeved T-shirt was pushed up to his elbows, showing off muscular forearms and hinting at strength and power. Another look revealed his entire frame was athletic. Why did that surprise you? Yes, his face drew most of the attention - a face covered in countless small, bulbous tumors that greatly distorted his features. They clustered around his cheeks, chin, and forehead, creating uneven ridges that made it impossible to even guess what his face might look like without the disease.

In the light of day, you realized his left eye was only partially hidden by the overgrowth of skin at his brow. His right eye was striking, a deep, dark blue.The rest of him was untouched by the condition, his thick neck, powerful chest, and heavily-muscled arms gave him an almost unsettling duality.

"Yes," you said, smiling awkwardly. "I met uh..."

"You met Frank Adler," Edward explained. "He helps me around the house, with the cars. He's been my handyman for a couple of years."

Trying to be polite, you nodded but didn't say anything.

"Normally, he's even charming," Edward went on. "Not sure what got into him today." Turning back to the house he asked, "Would you like to see your rooms?"

That's better.

"Yes, please," you said, smiling at your new landlord. 

Edward paused, his gaze locked with yours, his holding so much intensity. You weren't sure what the moment meant to him, but you felt like it was significant.

Leading you into the house, your host paused in the foyer, seeming to enjoy the way you stared with wonder at the opulence that surrounded you. You'd seen homes like this on TV but never in real life. The air was rich with the scent of polished wood and aged books, hinting at the decades of history nestled within its walls. There were beautiful flower arrangements everywhere. There were freshly-cut roses in all shades from snowy white to deep blood red. There were other potted plants strategically placed that added life to the dwelling, as if they proved the mansion was a living, breathing entity.

Edward took you from the foyer to a beautiful spiraling staircase that was just beyond it. The wooden stairs gleamed in the sunlight from the high window of the first landing. At the next floor, he turned to the left and stopped in front of a beautiful, heavy oak door. 

As Edward opened the door, a shiver of anticipation ran down your spine. "These are your rooms," he said, his voice deep and resonant. 

Your new home was done up in varying shades of cornflower blue and elegant, dark wood. Sunlight streamed through the tall, arched windows casting a warm glow over the plush velvet sofa and intricately carved tables around it. You couldn't help but admire the paintings that adorned the walls, each magnificent landscape views with colorful gardens in frames guilded with gold, catching the light in mesmerizing ways. Edward gestured towards the fireplace dominating one corner of the room. 

"Nothing like a crackling fire on a chilly night," he said. "It's in good working order and Frank will make sure you always have firewood."

"That's wonderful," was all you could say as you looked around in amazement.

If you thought the living room was something, you weren't even prepared for the bathroom. The clawfoot bathtub was the first thing you noticed, it's gleaming porcelain looked so inviting. In your work as a vet tech, you were often on your feet for hours. How good would it feel to relax in a bath some days, with your favorite scented bath salts and an audiobook playing while you relaxed? Yes, there was a shower unit attached along with a privacy curtain all around it. The best of modernity and old-world charm. The marble countertops shined under the soft lights from the crystal light fixture above. 

Finally, he showed you the bedroom, saving the best room for last. It was a sanctuary in royal blue and old gold with a four-poster bed draped in luxurious silk curtains , billowing gently in the breeze from the tall windows on either side. Sunlight filtered through sheer lace curtains, casting patterns on the polished wooden floor. The furniture was beautiful dark wood, a bedside table, a huge wardrobe, and a vanity with heart-shaped mirror and a bench seat that an embroidered cushion top. 

"What do you think?" Edward asked as you glanced around.

That it's too good to be true. 

You'd be living here with Edward and in exchange, you'd be running errands for him? It didn't seem real. 

"Your home is so beautiful," you said in amazement. "And these rooms? I've never seen anything like this in real life."

Edward took a deep breath at your praise. It was obvious he was proud of his home and he should be. Yet, he was studying you hard.

"I feel like there's a 'yes, but' answer coming," he said after a moment, wariness in his right eye.

Truth was best, especially since he'd be your landlord.

"It's just... Are you sure I can't give you something for rent?" you pleaded. "My running errands for you in exchange for living here?"

It was just you... you couldn't read his face. And he didn't have an answer for that. The last thing you wanted to do was insult the poor man. Maybe he was just lonely and looking for companionship? Making someone an offer they can't easily refuse in the way of such a lavish living space didn't hurt. And you needed a place to live.

As the uncomfortable silence stretched out, you knew you had to end it. Be grateful.

"Thank you so much," you told him, smiling. You meant it. "I love these rooms. I'm very grateful I'll be living here with you."

You sensed that answer pleased him. Edwarded nodded, making his way to the door. Before he could leave, you did have a question.

"You mentioned Mr. Adler works for you," you started.

"That's right," he said turning back.

"You said he was a handyman for you? Worked on the cars?" Considering how poorly your first meeting with Frank Adler went, you didn't want to piss him off further. "Is there anything else he does around the house? I'd like to help out as much as I can. I just don't want to step on anyone's toes though. You know?"

"I understand," Edward said quietly. "But I have a cleaning service that comes twice a week. Frank and I usually fend for ourselves in the kitchen. We're not bad. If you want to cook here and there, I'm sure that would be appreciated. But I don't have any expectations for you for any of that."

A cleaning service? For real?

"That's great," you told him. "That answers my question. Thank you!"

"Why don't you get settled in and Frank and I will bring in your things?" Edward asked, heading back into the living room. 

You followed him. You didn't have a lot of stuff, but it didn't seem right to not help them. "Thank you. I'm pitching in."

Edward stopped at the top of the stairs. "You don't trust us?"

Something about the way he asked that question made you think he was teasing you. "I trust you," you said with grin. "I'm not sure about Frank though."

The easy sound of his laugh was a warm sound, made you feel better. "Come on."

Edward Lemuel leaned back against the sink, enjoying a tall glass of ice water. They'd just finished moving in his new tenant and it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. She didn't have many things to move in. No furniture pieces. Mostly clothings, boxes of decorations and accessories. Three heavy boxes of books which made him happy because it suggested that she was an avid reader. Yeah, he'd broken a sweat helping her and Frank move everything upstairs but it was totally worth it. 

His moment of contentment didn't last. Frank stomped into the kitchen, a surly expression on his face. Edward had an idea of why his employee, partner in crime, and sometimes friend was so pissed off. But he had a feeling he was about to learn exactly why. Stopping in front of him, sweaty and with his hands on his hips, Frank glared him down. 

"What the fuck is this?" Frank asked, emphasizing each individual word. "You didn't even let me know about this one." Jerking a thumb roughly in the direction of her rooms, Frank's gaze searched his face.

"That doesn't give you the right to be rude to her," Edward told him calmly. "And it sure doesn't help our cause, does it?"

"Your cause," Frank pointed out. Dropping his head for a moment, he seemed to be collecting his thoughts. "What sort of deal did you make with her? What do you even know about her?"

Edward smiled. Frank was interested. And why wouldn't he be? On top of all of her other impressive qualities, she was beautiful. Very beautiful. Yeah, they were going a different route this time, building on the knowledge they'd been building with the last three girls. Edward was hoping it would be worth it, that he'd finally get everything he'd ever wanted. And he'd make sure Frank was more than compensated for his time and effort.

"She's not from this area," Edward explained. "She works locally. She's taking a gap year from school."

Edward moved to allow Frank to grab a glass from the cabinet by the sink and filled it with water from the tap. "Where does she go to school?"

"The vet-med college," Edward replied. "I think she's studying to be a veterinarian."

Frank's blue-eyed gaze didn't leave him as he downed his water in greedy gulps. Placing the empty glass on the counter, Frank swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. His expression was one of perplexion. "Are you fucking kidding me? A veterinarian?"

Edward nodded.

"This isn't going to work with her," Frank warned in a lowered voice. "Yeah, we've had some luck with a handful of young women I found at the shelter or on the street. That is not this woman. She isn't going to be naive or desperate like them. She sure doesn't look like any sort of addict. It won't work."

Edward didn't agree. "I think with a different approach, things might be just fine."

Frank shook his head. "A different approach?"

"Yeah," Edward said. "She is more... refined. She's exactly what I've been looking for."

Staring at him like he had two heads and six eyes between them, Frank marched around him and back out the kitchen door. "Whatever."

Frank didn't understand right now, but he soon would. The lovely new tennant was perfect, everything deep in his heart that he'd been hoping for. Yes, there'd been other "tenants" and they couldn't have been more different than her. The previous ones were convenient, transactional. But they had shown him that what he wanted wasn't completely out of his reach despite his condition. With the right resources, most people could be bargained with. Maybe, with the right woman, this time would be different. 

His new tenant looked at him with such kindness. At times, he could almost forget about his appearance. Maybe...

Edward drained his glass, looking longingly in the direction of her rooms. He would tell himself that he didn't want to get his hopes up, but damn it, his hopes were already up. The young woman in question had more than just surface beauty. She was kind, thoughtful, intelligent. She was everything he could ask for in a relationship if he could just navigate the situation. And he was convinced he could with Frank's help. 

She kept asking if there was more she could do to contribute. To feel like she was earning her keep. Edward smiled just thinking about it. His new tenant represented so much more to him than tepid female companionship and parlor tricks in the dark. Edward didn't know a lot about her at the moment but prided himself on being a good judge of character. It was the basis of his infatuation with her and there was no other word for it. 

[lacontroller1991]

After Hours (Ernest Lawrence x AFAB!Reader x J. Robert Oppenheimer)

Main Master List || MISC Master List

Summary: Oppenheimer, finding himself in sexual frustration, runs to Lawrence and reader where Lawrence is more than willing to share reader.

Author's Note: THIS IS PURELY FICTIONAL. IN NO WAY SHAPE OR FORM DOES THIS ACTUALLY REPRESENT THE REAL PEOPLE THAT WERE LAWRENCE AND OPPENHEIMER. IF YOU'RE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH THIS, PLEASE SCROLL AWAY.

Author's Note 2: So I haven't really posted in a while and this is something new for me, so this is my trial run. I do have stuff planned for whumptober but that'll be next month. - SIDE NOTE I am currently obsessed with Josh Hartnett's interpretation of the character, a forewarning - SIDE SIDE NOTE, THANK YOU TO @arieslost FOR THE KICK ASS NAME

Warnings: SMUT 18+, cuckhold, unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), semi Public sex, p in v sex, body shots, pet names, masturbation and language

Word Count: 2.3k

==========

The lab is relatively quiet for a Tuesday night. Not a sound can be heard apart from your pen scratching against the papers and Lawrence lightly tapping his shoe against the floor. When the two of you had met, you were his student, then you became his TA, and now, you’re still his TA but you’re also his. The first couple weeks of your relationship with him, neither of you could keep your hands off each other. Homeworks wouldn’t get graded and more often than not, both of you were extremely tired the next day. Now, it’s much more mellow. The two of you had decided to try and keep it out of the lab, but sometimes that’s easier said than done. Like now.

Setting down the papers, you involuntarily squeeze your legs and let out a frustrated sigh, but Lawrence makes no comment. “Ernie.” If there were any students in the lab, you would strictly refer to him as Dr. Lawrence, but when no one is around? All bets are off the table.

“Yes honey?”

“When can we go home?” Lawrence sets his papers down, adjusting his glasses and looking you over, desperation written all over your face. With a smirk, he kicks his legs up on his desk, readjusting the papers in his lap and clicking his tongue.

“I don’t know hon, I have all these papers to grade and the less you help, the longer it’s going to take.” His comment irks you but you know he’s right. Picking up the papers again, you try to scan them over as quickly as you can, oblivious to the quantum physicist walking into the room, Lawrence on the other hand notices instantly. “Well, look who’s here.” His voice tears your already frail concentration away as you focus on Oppenheimer, jacket tossed on one of the chairs. 

“I’m tired of her playing games.” He crashes on the seat next to you and takes out his pipe, lighting it up while you and Lawrence share a brief look in confusion. You don’t really know what Oppie is going on about, but from what you understand from Ernest, it’s about a woman named Jean.

“What did she do this time?”

“She calls me, says she wants me, I go over, she kicks me out. She got me worked up for nothing,” Robert complains as Lawrence raises an eyebrow, taking a brief look at you but your eyes are raking down his body. You and Lawrence have spoken, rather in depth, on your mutual attraction towards the Quantum Theorist. Lawrence’s attraction is more on an intellectual level while yours is more on a sensual level. 

“Anything we can do to help?” You offer quietly, repositioning yourself towards Oppenheimer and fixing your blouse. Oppenheimer’s cold blue eyes fixate briefly on your bosom before shaking his head, focusing on his pipe.

“Not unless you have a way to relieve my tension.” Your eyes flick to Ernest silently asking if you can, only to receive a slight nod of his head, his eyes returning to his papers.

“Well, I can,” you comment, setting your own papers down on Lawrence’s desk before pulling the pipe out of Oppie’s hands and sliding onto his lap, your legs resting comfortably on either side of his hips.

“Uh- Lawrence?” Oppenheimer’s eyes flick behind you and try to find Ernest’s only to find them still focused on the papers and not really caring.

“Go ahead and enjoy yourself Robert. She’s really skilled.” It’s all the convincing Oppie needs before his eyes focus on your face, your hips slowly rocking against his. 

“I- um- not really sure if you should be- doing this,” he swallows, trying to keep his eyes on your face as your hands trace down his chest. 

“Why not? Daddy said it was ok.” You can hear Lawrence snort in amusement as Robert nods, leaning back in the seat, his hands falling to your hips as he begins to take control. Leaning down, you press your lips against his neck, gently sucking on the supple skin right below his ear, causing his eyes to flutter close.

“Dear- ar-,” he lets out a little moan as your hand moves between yours and his body, gently grazing against his hardon.

“Wow, so Oppie can shut up.” Lawrence’s comment stifles a laugh out of you as you lean back, removing your shirt and bra, discarding them onto the floor of the Rad Lab. Oppenheimer’s eyes instantly fall to your breasts, his hands reading up and gently running the pads of his thumbs against your nipples, causing you to let out a soft moan. Looking up from his paper, Lawrence watches you with a smirk before returning to his work, ignoring the way his cock begins to press against his slacks.

“Lawrence?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure it’s okay if I take her?” Oppenheimer asks as you continue to undress yourself, leaving you in nothing except your stockings, knowing just how much Lawrence likes them on you.

“I’m not in control of her, you have to ask her yourself.” A wave of arousal goes between your legs, because no, Lawrence IS in control of you. For him to suggest otherwise is his way of foreplay.

“Well?” Oppie’s question breaks you out of your thoughts as you drop yourself back on his lap, immediately feeling the length of Oppenheimer’s cock. 

“Yes, Dr. Oppenheimer.” You can visibly see the way Oppie’s pupils dilate before he’s picking you up and placing your back on the desk, one of his hands shoving down his suspenders and pants to his thighs, letting his cock spring free. 

Looking up from his papers, Lawrence watches the way Oppenheimer begins to guide his member towards your heat. 

“You might want to go in at a slight angle, it gets the job done much faster.” 

“Who said I want to get it done fast?” Oppenheimer retorts, his eyes focused on Lawrence behind him and not the way you’re touching yourself underneath him. Lawrence though, sees your deft hand rubbing tight circles against your clit. 

“If you don’t get it done sooner rather than later, she’s gonna lose interest.” Lawrence’s comment has Oppie’s head turning right back to you causing his dick to twitch at the sight. “Besides,” Lawrence slaps the papers on his desk, making his way over to you and Oppie before sitting down on the edge of his desk, “I would still like to have a turn with her.”

“Are you going to watch?” You ask with a small smile causing him to smile back. 

“Yes sweetheart, now why don’t you show Oppie just how nice you feel.” Lawrence smirks, his eyes watching your body intensely as Oppenheimer begins to push the head of his cock in, grunting as he meets resistance. You, on the other hand, let out a moan at the feeling of his cock stretching you out. “How does he feel honey?”

“So good,” you moan out, wiggling your hips and looking up to the physicist above you, “you can move.” Oppie nods his head, his hips starting a steady pace, trying to not look to Lawrence for approval. Leaning over you, Oppenheimer places a tentative kiss on your nipple before taking it between his teeth causing you to let out a sharp gasp of surprise. Picking up his pace, sweat begins to trickle on his forehead as your moans get louder, your nails scratching at his biceps while your hips cant up. 

Feeling the beginning of your orgasm, you reach one hand down between your bodies and begin to rub your clit, eyes fluttering close and chasing the feeling, barely registering the fact that Lawrence is commanding Oppie on what to do. “I’m close.” “We know baby girl, just hold on a little longer.” Oppenheimer comments, his hips thrusting wildly as he chases his own orgasm while he looks to Lawrence, “where?”

“She likes it on her tits. But make sure she cums first.” Oppenheimer nods his head, trying to keep his pace as best as possible so that you can cum. “Come on honey, cum for Robert,” Lawrence whispers in your ear while petting your hair in soothing strokes, sending you toppling over the edge.

“Oh fuck,” you let out a long moan as Oppenheimer continues to thrust into you, helping you ride out your high before slipping out of you and jerking off, hot ropes of his cum landing on your stomach and tits. Both you and Oppenheimer breathe heavily for a minute before you sit up, his cum dripping off your body and onto the floor, while Lawrence smiles like a proud parent.

“Good job Oppie,” Lawrence claps Oppie on the shoulder before his hands unbutton his slacks and push them down, taking a seat at his desk chair, “but let me show you how it’s done.” His focus shifts to you, a lustful look in his eyes. “Well kitten?”

You raise a brow as a smirk forms on your face. “Yes Dr. Lawrence?”

“Why don’t you show me and Dr. Oppenheimer what that pretty little mouth of yours can do,” Lawrence comments as you nod your head, walking over to him before sinking to your knees in between his strong thighs. Judging by how hard he is and how much he’s already leaking, you’re thoroughly shocked he didn’t pull you off of Oppenheimer and just have his way with you. Despite Lawrence being a gentleman to all those who he crosses paths with, he sure loves to manhandle you. Wasting no time, you immediately grab ahold of his member and run your tongue along the thick vein on the underside. If Lawrence felt any sort of pleasure he’s not making it known. Normally, he makes all sorts of noises but you suppose it’s probably Oppie being in the room and Lawrence’s need to establish himself as an alpha male, which you will tease him about later.

Looking up through your lashes, you place a tender kiss to the head of his cock and you can barely see his breath hitch. Wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, your tongue collects the precum that has leaked causing Lawrence’s hand to weave into your hair.

“Think you can take a little more honey?” You nod in response, relaxing your throat as much as possible before his hand starts guiding you up and down on his cock. Reaching up with the hand that’s not wrapped around his member, you gently roll his balls in your hands, aware of the way Oppenheimer watches like there’s nothing else in the world. “You’re doing such a good job honey, just like that,” Lawrence tosses his head back, eyes screwed shut and mouth open in ecstasy as his hips lightly thrust into your mouth. Twisting your hand around his cock, you moan softly causing his hips to briefly falter. Picking up your pace, the sound of you gagging around your lover’s cock echoes in the lab, that and fapping? Looking over briefly, you can make out Oppenheimer’s hand pumping his own cock up and down as if he was watching his own personal porn, in which case, he is.

“Fuck honey, don’t stop.” You can tell that Lawrence is close by the way his hand flexes in your hair. Nodding your head, you take him as deep as you possibly can, your own moans sending vibrations around his cock before it twitches in your mouth. Lawrence lets out a small grunt as he holds your head still around his cock while your hand continues to rub the base of his cock, trying to help him ride out his high as you hear another grunt, this time a little further away. After coming down from his high, Lawrence gently pulls your face off his cock with a lopsided smile. “Now are you going to swallow?” You tilt your head back and swallow his load, loving the way both men have their eyes on you. “Ain’t she a beaut Robert?”

“Yes she is. Wish I had someone so… obedient.” Lawrence chuckles, tucking himself back in before leaning down and kissing you, deciding to ignore the taste of himself on your lips. Standing up to his full height, Lawrence offers you a hand and pulls you up, placing his jacket around your shoulders.

“Well, that was fun,” you comment as Lawrence pulls you into his side, being slightly more possessive now that the sexual tension is dissipating. Oppenheimer immediately picks up on it.

“Right, well, I should get going. Thank you both for that. It was much needed.” You move to respond but Lawrence’s hand grips onto you just a little tighter.

“You’re welcome. We’ll see you tomorrow.” Robert nods his head and dips out of the room, closing the door and leaving you and Lawrence there alone. Turning in his grasp, you reach up and fix his glasses while he kisses the palm of your hand.

“What was with the sudden possessiveness?” He scoffs before picking you up and placing you on his desk, slotting himself between your legs and kneeling on the floor.

“Because, even though we both like him, you belong to me and he needs to know that. Now, let me take care of you, okay?” He presses a kiss to your inner thigh, causing your eyes to flutter shut.

“Sounds good to me.”

==========

Author's Note 3: Thank you to a few certain people who made me confident enough to post this, I could not have done it without you guys <3

Tagging just in case: @floralcyanide @arieslost @darkmoviesquotespizza @cranesbathtowel @madlittlecriminal

[sammylbir]

Rewriting Sonia Nevermind

Heya, last time we talked about, rewriting Akane Owari. I think my friend really liked the concept I made and because you seemed to like it too, it's time to rewrite my least favorite DR2 girl.

That being, Sonia Nevermind.

I am not a huge fan of her. She barely has any depth, barely much focus or even an own character arc. She is just a nice girl, who happens to be a princess and a funny foreigner. Well, I think we can do so much more with her, so here are some ideas, to improve her. Feel free to disagree with me.

Personality:

Okay so personality wise, I would keep her friendly nature. But I would also at the same time make her a tad more creepy and her love with serial killers, the occult and dark topics more pronounced. She would talk about it a lot more and a few times, giggles excited when she talks about such topics. This may make her seem like that she is loving serial killers and is romanticizing them, which causes her classmates to be a bit wary off her. In reality, she doesn't condone those crimes of course and she is simply fascinated and passionate about those dark topics. Why she has that fascination to begin with, will be explained later.

Appearance:

I would change Sonia's outfit slightly. She will wear a dark hoodie, one with some white symbols along a pair of blue jeans. Her nails would be painted pink and her face would look as pretty, as in canon. Her hair is a bit more braided from behind, given her a regal appearance. Now, why am I giving Sonia such a strange look? Well, like in canon, Sonia wants to be seen as a normal student by the others and therefore, she is wearing more casual clothing in order to seem more natural and to fit in with the rest. She is not a tomboy by any means and simply wears a hoodie, because its comfortable and because she is not that much of a fan of showing skin. Also, I think the dark clothing contrasts great with her golden blonde hair, so there's that.

Backstory:

Now, as I mentioned in the Personality Subsection, there's a reason Sonia is obsessed with serial killers and that has something to do, with her past. See, when Sonia was younger, she had a sister. One that was supposed to be the one next in line and become the future queen of Nosovelic. However, on the day that she was going to get crowned, (Sonia was 13 at the time), her sister was assassinated by a known serial killer in Nosovelic. This event traumatized Sonia of course and she began to study serial killers and their patterns, in order to partially learn from their methods, to possibly find the killer of her sister one day and also to cope with the loss of her sister. Gundham and her bonded because of their shared interests and they confide each other, thanks to their shared past too.

However, thanks to researching so many killers, Sonia began to develop some dark urges, like light sadism and a somewhat petty nature. She is aware of that of course, but she is trying her best to contain those negative aspects of course. Her light sadism only comes out, when Kazuichi begins to stalk her and she belittles him subtly out of annoyance and as a way, to vent out her darker aspects. Even though Sonia is still holding back and doesn't want to seriously hurt Kazuichi. I can imagine Sonia eventually opening up to Kazuichi and outright telling him, how his behavior creeps her out and Kazuichi will eventually realize it too and then tries to stop stalking her. I do see potential of them becoming somewhat good friends in the future though.

A few notes about Nosovelic in this rewritten version of mine:

-It's located between Montenegro and Albania

-It's a Parliamentary Monarchy and after Sonia's fall into despair, she stages a coup and turns it into an absolute monarchy.

-The main language is Nosovelician, a mix of German, Dutch and Albanian.

-Military knowledge and education is mandatory, because Nosovelic had been invaded countless times during its tenure.

-It was not part of the Eastern Bloc and remained neutral, throughout the cold war.

-Its closest economic partners are Germany, Bulgaria and Albania.

-The country itself has some LGBT right issues, something Sonia wants to fix.

Additional Notes regarding Sonia:

-She practices martial arts and military training. Sometimes during practice, she comes and teaches the other soldier trainees. Her rank is General.

-Her Japanese has a bit of an east European accent. She speaks European languages, like German, Dutch, French, Swedish, Norwegian, Bulgarian, Romanian and Ukrainian more fluid though.

-Apart from researching about serial killers, she also reads tons of political and economical books.

-The only subject Sonia struggled with in school, was Biology and Math.

And that's it! I hope ya liked my rewrite ideas for Sonia and if ya enjoy it, feel free to leave a like and re-post it. Until next time!

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 9

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: none

Reader's vibe in general is very much "Mess With Me" - BXRRELL if you want a song (though maybe it will apply more to the next chapter). Should I make a list of songs I that inspire me for this?

Job Description

Pushing the unpleasant memories back into the depths from which they came, your priority turned to Killer. Finally, you had a proper med bay, or close enough. The cabinets and drawers held basic supplies. You found clean linens, much to your shock, and spent some time putting them on the stretchers so that they were ready when the time came. You made a space in one of the locking cabinets for your things. This would be your space for the duration of your stay. Curiously, much of the tools and meds appeared like they hadn't been used in a while, which either meant they hadn't been in a fight in that time or they were lacking someone who knew how to use them. You were betting the latter, bringing a frown to your face.

You went to the first mate's side, really looking at him while you had the chance. His face was angular and dotted with small, faint freckles. The skin of his forehead was slightly paler than the rest of his face since his bangs protected it from the sun. His lips had a deep cupid's bow and were somewhat thin. You lifted his eyelids to reveal bright blue, stunning eyes before letting them fall shut again, long, blond eyelashes resting on the tops of his cheeks. A small smirk settled on your face, feeling like you had forbidden knowledge in the form of Killer's handsome visage. It was very tempting to give him a little peck. He would never know. Maybe he needed one to wake up, a real life princess. He does owe me. Slowly you leaned down and hovered above his face. He smelled like salt and sweat, in a good way. The heat from his skin radiated to your cheeks, that or you were blushing. It had been so long since you kissed someone, not like with Kid, but a tender, loving kiss. It would be easy to pretend in this moment. A rumbling cough startled you. A burning feeling flooded your face as you straightened up and looked at Killer. Still asleep. Guilt washed over you. What is wrong with me? Sighing, you let your professional side take over. Putting yourself in front of Killer's injured thigh, you checked over your shoulder to make sure no one had come in. You removed the crude stitches that you initially put in. Lightly putting your fingertips to the ragged wound, a soft, warm, yellow light emanated from them. Tanned skin started to knit itself together slowly, until Killer's thigh was smooth. There was no evidence that an injury had been there aside from the still-damaged jeans that he wore. Moving to Killer's head, you did the same. Resting your hands on Killer's chest, first you tried not to think about how firm and warm his pecs felt, then you willed your power to heal his lungs. The soft glow from your hands seemed to radiate into him for a while before puttering out. It was hard to know if it had worked since you couldn't see into him. For it to work, you had to really want it. This situation in general made you uneasy, so healing a person with a high rank could be risky, but it could also be leverage. The conflict within you could be enough to buff your reparative power. The bigger the ask, the more strongly you had to feel about it. Your devil fruit was as versatile as your will, though you hadn't fully explored its potential. Who would have thought something good would have come from landing on that island?

A knock at the door made you jump. "Uh... yeah?"

Heat came in. He had a softer voice than most of the crew that you had heard. "How is he?"

"He's doing better. I don't know when he'll wake up though," you said, predicting Heat's next question. 

Heat made an affirmative grunt. "You didn't get breakfast. Are you hungry?" 

You blinked and your stomach growled. "I guess I was too focused on finding the least whore-like clothes to wear to be hungry." 

The blue-haired man chuckled. "Come with me." He waved you out the door and led you to the mess hall. It was just big enough to fit the crew, with long picnic-style tables. Then he took you through saloon doors to the kitchen in the back and grabbed a plate of leftovers. "So you're our doctor now." He said as more of a statement than a question while you shoveled food into your mouth.

Muffled through your food, "No, m'jus helfing the docker."

"We... don't have one." Heat looked away as if he realized maybe he shouldn't have told you that. 

You choked on your food a little, but you did sort of have a feeling that was the case. "Ur captain's a basfard," you accused, pointing your fork at him. 

"Better watch it. He's your captain, too." Heat chided. 

"Temporarily." You held Heat's gaze before finishing off the last bites and chugging a glass of water. Wiping your mouth on the back of your hand, you got up and put your dishes in the sink. "Can I ask you a favor?" Heat raised his brow and you continued, "Would you take me to Killer's room? I want to get fresh clothes. His are crusty and ripped." 

Heat thought about it for a while and motioned for you to follow. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt." 

On the way to Killer's room, most people quickly ignored you when they noticed Heat. "Did you really come to ask if I got breakfast?" As it turned out, Killer's room was right next to Kid's. That seemed appropriate. 

Heat let you in and watched you from the doorframe with his arms crossed. "No," He paused to consider his next words, "the captain wanted me to make sure you weren't getting into trouble." 

You appreciated his honesty and it made you laugh. "If he was worried, he shouldn't have left me in a room with a thousand things I know how to kill someone with and his first-mate." Heat shifted in the doorway as you made your way to a small dresser. "That was a joke." It wasn't, but you didn't need Heat to report that back to Kid. Looking through his clothes was easy. One drawer had all jeans and one drawer had all the same shirt. The man likes routine. You grabbed one of each when a small corner of black fabric peeked out from under some shirts. Tugging it free, it was a black button down with big white polka dots. It looked much smaller than the other shirts. You held it up to Heat, "What's this?"

"Looks like Killer's old shirt." 

"Does that mean he doesn't wear it?"

"I think it's too small."

"So he won't mind if I take it." Anything to get out of these clothes. Heat was about to say something and you cut him off, "I'm taking it." Heat shrugged. He wasn't going to argue. Killer could do that when he woke up, if he wanted. You looked Heat over and pointed to his top. "Do you have one of those you don't wear anymore?" You had an idea. 

It turned out that he did. You took your new outfit back to the infirmary to drop it off and then headed down to the brig, only getting lost once, to see what the alleged "mess" was. The crew kept an eye on you, but didn't bother you. The brig was empty of people and was located in the back of the storage area which had rows of crates and barrels. It was very dark, but you could make out the shape that was Mini and her glaring eyes. "I know. I know. I'm sorry you had to be down here." The "mess" was what appeared to be a destroyed crate with several scraps of orange peel around it that had been left in her cell. That's on them. You easily found the lock to the door. Placing your hand over it, the soft, yellow glow came forth from your palm again. There was a soft click as the gate swung open. You went in and gave Mini a hug. Her neck was too big for your arms to encircle. Rough reddish hair poked at your skin as you breathed in her scent. She smelled like disturbed earth, tree sap, and freshly torn leaves. It was comforting to have something familiar. You sighed and released her to start piling up the wood fragments of the crate. Wait. You looked around. No one was there. You touched the pile and focused on the image of a whole crate. Why should you pick up all the pieces when you could put it back together with a touch? Because it makes me tired as fuck. You used your power a lot more today than you had before. One perk of being here seemed like more opportunity to practice, as long as no one saw. There was really no reason to keep it a secret, but you may as well while you were at it. It took a few minutes of focus and the pieces started to fit back together. Daffodil colored light bathed Mini while she finished off the orange peels. Guess I'll have to deal with a scurvy-riddled crew now, you thought as the rest of the crate came together. A loud huff exited you as you let your breath out. You were focusing so hard you didn't realize you were holding it. Dusting your hands off, you grinned. It was a little silly to be proud of putting a crate back together. You had to start somewhere though. 

Now, about sneaking a giant boar into the infirmary. It was plenty big for her to be in there with you. You didn't see a problem with it. And anyone who did could try their best to move her. Knowing how stubborn she was, you laughed to yourself. She thought the same of you, you were sure. Was it better to sneak slowly through the halls or to barrel through and hope for the best? Well one of them sounded way more fun and someone was gonna see either way. No. No. I have to be low profile. With your luck, you would probably run straight into Eustass Kid himself. 

Miraculously, most everyone was in the mess for lunch. Out of the corner of someone's eye, Mini probably looked like Kid. Her fur was similar in color to his coat and her size was certainly comparable. She did have a hard time squeezing through the infirmary doorway, though made it without breaking the frame. Killer still wasn't awake. You looked around the infirmary some more. There was a few fold-down bunks attached to the wall, extra space in case the stretchers were all taken. You unfolded the top one, making it up so you could use it for yourself. That way, Minerva could curl up below you.

There was also a small bathroom with a shower, a far cry from Kid's luxurious space. It was clean and had some personal hygiene products within. You grabbed some along with a basin and filled it with hot water. For the second time since knowing the man, you stripped Killer. Oh how you wished it was under different circumstances. Grabbing a washcloth you got it wet and put some soap on it to clean Killer up. After all, no one wanted to wake up dirty and he still had some sand clinging to his tan skin. It took a bit of time to get him as clean as he was going to get without a real shower or bath. When you were done, you got a new basin of water. You dipped Killer's hair into it and placed it right below his hair to catch the drips. Taking shampoo, you worked it into his scalp and down the lengths of his hair, untangling as you went. You squeezed as much out as you could before rinsing the rest of the soap out. Then you repeated the process with conditioner and towel dried his blond locks. It was not easy to wrestle clothes back on to him and by the time you were done, his hair was mostly dry. Selfishly, you really wanted to wash it so that you could touch it some more. It was so pretty and soft. You spent an embarrassing amount of time braiding it until it was perfect, definitely just to keep it from tangling again and not for your own entertainment. You didn't have anything else to do. Or maybe you did, but until Kid expressly told you to do something, you weren't going to take it upon yourself to do chores.

A tall shadow appeared outside the door, knocking with purpose. 

"If Kid sent you to check on me, I'm fucking busy. Tell him to- tell him Killer is fine and I'm straightening up in here." You were going to say "tell him to fuck off" but that would mean a raging bull stomping into your space within minutes. 

The shadow made some kind of mumble and left. 

The next day went by, you kept to yourself, eating after everyone else had and retreating to the med bay. Heat had come by and you asked him for another favor. Later that day, you re-painted Killer's nails. Essentially you were having a slumber party with him and he was the only one sleeping, getting his hair braided, and his nails painted, though you did paint yours later, too, out of boredom. There were a few medical texts you occupied yourself with reading since you had never been formally trained, just some field experience. You fell asleep with one of them in your hands, leaned back against Mini, who you had been smuggling leftovers to throughout the day. 

Next