#that's a long way of saying I would NOT wish either of these events on canon b*ler if happily ever after is what I want

[whirligig-girl]

i've always been confused about how birthdays work in Star Trek. Like, when you're celebrating an alien's birthday--or even a human who was not born on Earth or even in the Solar System--are you just counting earth years? We don't even use those in space, we use stardates. Or are you counting orbital periods of their homeworld? Some of those orbital periods are gonna be measured in a small handful of months, some of them maybe even days.

Vulcans live to be over 200 years old, but their world orbits 40 Eridani A, which is an K-dwarf. It has 0.4 solar luminosities. In order for Vulcan to receive the same instellation from 40 Eridani A as Earth gets from Sol, it would orbit at about sqrt0.4=0.63 au. Its orbital period would then be just shy of 7 months. So when Janeway gets Tuvok a birthday cake in that Voyager episode... was she counting Vulcan years (astronomically appropriate) or Earth years (it is, after all, a human tradition)?

Janeway says "not long before the big triple digits," so he's probably in his 90s here. Tuvok was a young man during the events of Star Trek 6, which takes place in 2293, Voy S6 takes place 2376, 83 prior. If Tuvok was just 20 years old in 2293, he'd be 103 earth years old and over 176 Vulcan years old. Maybe Vulcans count in a different base system. Memory Alpha suggests he's born 2264, making him 112 earth years old.

I suppose we could make sense of this if Vulcan has a longer orbital period than Earth. Maybe it's still habitable because of all the volcanic heat?

What about an alien from a planet around a red dwarf star? They might have a birthday every couple weeks, which is hardly worth celebrating. What about people from the Moon, or Benzar-B93, or Andoria? Do you measure their birthday in terms of their parent planet's orbit about the star as usual, or do you measure their birthday in terms of orbits about their parent planet?

My starfleet slimegirl character, Eaurp Guz, was born on a coorbital planet in a horseshoe orbit wrt a gas giant. How the hell do you calculate her birthday? Some years are substantially longer than others!

Either way. To whomever or whatever views this post, from whatever world: With whatever periodicity you celebrate it, for your next birthday, my wishes are as follows.

[cripplecharacters]

I have a question about an idea I've seen. This is going to be kind of weird and involves the death of a real person during an epileptic seizure, and whether or not giving the character epilpsy would be a good or a bad idea.

So, in this fandom I write for, one of the characters, Carlos de Vil, was played by disabled actor Cameron Boyce. Mr Boyce was epileptic and passed away during a seizure before the series was completed and Disney decided not to recast him, instead choosing to have Carlos pass away in some event that canon barely acknowledges (there are nods but no cause of death is ever given, not even one small clue. Carlos's death is simply "he's no longer with us and is missed dearly.") Because he is a main character, people have been trying to find and work in a cause of death for the character that would make sense. Recently, I've seen people giving Carlos Mr Boyce's disability, epilepsy, and I was wondering if that was something that should be done, if it's okay to do, or if it's just disrespectful to his memory no matter what. It just feels weird, especially when this evolves into Carlos's passing being due to seizure like Mr Boyce's. By the way, Mr Boyce's friends and loved ones have little to no interaction with the fandom and thus probably have no idea this is happening. If they do, they haven't given an opinion on it beyond "Please respect our privacy." Mr Boyce was also a fairly private person about his medical history. He kept it so that no one except the people closest to him in real life knew he was epileptic at all, and no one really knew he was epileptic and being treated for it until his passing was announced.

I don't know. Would giving Carlos epilepsy be a disrespectful thing to do, considering Mr Boyce passed during a seizure? Or is the idea kind of okay, but giving Carlos the same cause of death isn't? Or is there no problem with this as long as the depiction of epilepsy is accurate?

Hello!

This is... a complicated topic to say the least and there's not really one right answer I can give you. Everybody will have a different opinion on this and I can only share mine.

I do have some familiarity with the fandom and the character in question, though I've admittedly not been involved recently or seen any of the newer films/shows.

In most cases where real people are involved or can be affected, it's generally best to go by their wishes (Or, in lieu of that, their friends/family's wishes). This doesnt mean you have to ask an actor before you headcanon their character as having a disability, it just means that you should keep it in mind if it's something they've spoken against before.

In this situation, of course, that's not really something you can do. And from the sound of it, there's nothing to go on from his friends/family either beyond respecting their privacy.

Personally, I wouldn't do it. I've been seizure free for several years now but the idea of dying during a seizure is something that still terrifies me, especially considering how many close calls I had when I was a child. It's something that is incredibly traumatic, especially when you're young.

Although headcanoning a character as having the same disability as their actor can be done as a way to show respect, that becomes a lot more complicated when the actor in question has died -- and especially when it was because of that disability.

To me, this feels a bit insensitive -- especially given that the intent is to have had Carlos die from a seizure as well. The fact of the matter is that there's not really a need for it.

If the people responsible for the films had chosen to specify the cause of death and had mentioned Carlos having epilepsy as a tribute of some sort, that would be a little bit different in my view. It would have been done with careful consideration and -- hopefully -- with some thought for his family/friends and what it would mean to them.

But that's not what happened. They made the choice not to do that and instead decided to -- from the sound of it -- keep it purposefully vague. When writing fics or creating art or otherwise interacting with the fandom, it's incredibly easy to either follow that and also keep it purposefully vague or invent another reason. In short, the reasoning behind headcanoning Carlos as having died from a seizure seems to be more out of convenience or some sort of "hey look, both of them had epilepsy!" thing instead of any attempt at a tribute or anything like that.

Giving Carlos epilepsy, however, in situations where Carlos wouldn't have died (In AUs, settings before his death, etc.) would be a bit different but it should still be done with care and consideration.

That said, this is just my opinion on the matter. Having Carlos die from a seizure rubs me the wrong way and feels like it's in bad taste but it's not something that's actively causing real harm, especially since you mentioned that his family/friends are likely unaware of all this.

Essentially, if it's something you want to do you're free to do it/keep doing it. But I'd strongly encourage people to think about why they're doing it and to consider alternate options.

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus

[yuseirra]

a family bigger than 4! part 8.

"I love you!" is very heavy sometimes, for their case especially

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / side story 1 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7

throwback to a few panels in side story 1(read it with that for context) and this other piece I drew way back in July~

ref: ch 8-9, 146, 153-154 specifically. There are some chapters I revisit a lot when I draw fanarts of this work

[givehimthemedicine]

I truly don't understand the appeal for b*lers who are rooting for either El to die or Will to get powers like El's. in fact if I wrote for that ship that's exactly the au I'd write, because I love putting characters in the hydraulic angst press. I'd make El die sacrificing herself for Will specifically, give him powers, and put him and Mike together. in that order.

it's very sad about El, but with her and the supernatural stuff gone, Will can sorta pretend these years were a bad dream and he's skipped right to the good ending of old-time normal. he got the boy and can shoot wizard fireballs or whatever. for a while, that's awesome.

but ultimately it's monkey's paw shit. Will is miserable. deep down he worries whether Mike just likes whoever has superpowers. Mike swears that's not it, and it probably isn't, but the timing will always be suspicious. he thinks about faking losing them, but that might just make it worse.

he worries he's just a second-best consolation prize. he worries that Mike never truly chose him over El.

he's plagued by the scenario of El coming back somehow. of Mike honoring his commitment but secretly wishing to be with her instead - because that would be worse, honestly, than Mike just leaving.

at first it's just her name or photo that stir up feelings. but in time, she's haunting him from the corners of book pages, his wristwatch, the ending digits of his first credit card which he seriously considers calling the bank to ask changed.

he does love her, of course he does, but he lacks the luxury of the simple mourning and missing that all their friends gets to feel for her. he lives in guilt about the fact that he feels dread, more than as much as joy, at the concept of El somehow coming back.

the worst part is: he's only 99.989% sure it's not within his new powers to bring her back.

[flangore]

❥ my sweet, my darling

feat.: Alastor / f!reader

summary: Your loving husband makes sure to keep an eye on you at all times — for the sake of your safety, of course! His shadows help quite a bit with that.

warnings: mildly controlling Alastor (but in a sweet way....)

It's not often that you explicitly go against Alastor's wishes.

For one, that is because your goals and interests usually align either way; whether that's through fate or through Alastor's careful observations and plans is not for you to know. Secondly, you're well aware there's a good reason as to why he'd prefer to keep you out of the V's territory entirely; Vox seems eccentric and intimidating on a good day, and, from what you've heard, his obsession with your husband borders on insane. Neither of you doubt for even a second that he'd try and hurt or kidnap you just to get back at Alastor.

Today, however, you really can't help but make an exception. It's not your fault that the antique shop you heard of is located just past the outskirts of Alastor's part of town, and while this would usually mean that you'll simply go there together, stop by it during a walk, that just won't work, not when the necklace you've seen there is supposed to be a gift for him.

He's bought you plenty of jewellery before, both for special events such as Valentine's Day or your birthday, and simply just because a bracelet made him think of you, a ring fit well with your favourite dress, a hair accessory matched the shade of your eyes. It's safe to say Alastor spoils you profusely, and the urge to do the same for him is overwhelming.

You're determined, certainly — and yet, your throat suddenly feels tight when you eye the street in front of you, various posters and LED signs promoting the V's, naked bodies displayed in every storefront's window.

This isn't your kind of area, really. While you're not a prude per se, you're already not looking forward to other sinners coming up to talk to you, hands touching you unnecessarily much, tones sultry purrs.

It's for Alastor's sake, though. You're fine with some pushy demons approaching you as long as you keep your goal in mind; and seeing him smile with true surprise and joy was going to be worth it a thousand times. Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself, taking one last look at the ominous sign, proudly claiming to have the wettest holes in all of Pride, you have been hiding behind.

It turns out your concerns are entirely unnecessary.

The very moment you step into the small alleyway, cringing instinctively in order to avoid drawing attention to yourself, shadow coils around your ankles, and a split second later you're back where you started, once more looking at the advertisement.

What?

Brows creasing, you move forward again; sure enough, you don't get further than a few metres before you're magically teleported behind the territory's border again. This is odd.

Two more attempts don't cut it, either. At this point, you're huffing, arms crossed in front of your chest, eyes narrowed unhappily, though, just as you raise your foot again, stubborn, the air around you shifts.

“It appears you're lost, dear.” Alastor's voice, sounding from behind you, tinged with amusement, really shouldn't make you flinch anymore, and yet you can't help but jump at his sudden materialisation, shadows curling around his limbs before finally fading into nothingness. “One would almost think you're doing it on purpose.”

“Goodness, you scared me”, you choke out, heart beating erratically against your ribcage. “I'm doing what on purpose?”

“Why, attempting to leave safe grounds, obviously.”

Ah. Right. Instinctively, you push your lips forward, hands now on your hips. You can't even deny any accusations. “Well”, you say, hesitating for a moment or three, “I was.”

Alastor leans forward, weight supported on his cane, eyebrows raised. “Is that so? I can only wonder why you'd endanger yourself this eagerly, darling.”

“That's a secret.”

“A secret?” His eyes sparkle, red glowing in the low light. “Colour me intrigued.”

“Well, I won't tell you.” You scoff. “Besides, I really doubt anything would have happened to me.”

“Is that so?” Alastor laughs, the noise so sharp that the contrast between it and the fondness in his gaze is startling. “Have you seen yourself, sweetheart? There were three men in the past five minutes alone, circling around you like vultures.”

The sudden use of the past tense makes you pause; you don't even bother to turn around and look for them, knowing you won't find anything that's left.

“Oh.”

“Yes, indeedy! Now, let's get you home, shall we?” Arms now linked together, Alastor is quick to lead you away from neon signs and bright LEDs; the one time you're about to be approached by a guy, seemingly blind to danger, to the reputation of the Radio Demon, his ears twitch backwards, the sound of his staff repeatedly hitting the ground the noise you decide to focus on instead of the quickly silenced screams.

It's quiet afterwards. Usually, you're able to enjoy the comfortable silence Alastor and you often settle in, proof of familiarity, though this time guilt gnaws at you, urging you to explain yourself, to prove that you didn't go against one of the few boundaries he has set without any important reason at all.

You'd hate for him to think that you don't take his concerns for you seriously. Your throat feels tight.

“I wanted to buy something for you.” The words leave your mouth quietly, though they catch his immediate interest nonetheless, scarlet gaze now focusing on your eyes, cast downwards. Still, he doesn't respond, prompting you to elaborate. “A necklace. I—, well. I thought it'd suit you.” The continued silence makes your chest ache. “You always buy me gifts that I absolutely adore; I merely wanted to do the same for you.”

Both of you come to a halt. A single claw moves underneath your chin, gently tipping it up. “I appreciate the effort, darling. Still, your safety is much more important to me than any surprise.” The warmed leather of his glove sends a shiver down your spine. “How about we go and take a look at it tomorrow, yes? I do promise to keep my eyes averted until after you've purchased it. Sound fair?”

That's not the point of a surprise gift. Nonetheless, your lips split into a toothy smile as you nod. “I'd love that.”

“Lovely! For now, I'm starved! How about I cook for us once we're back at the Hotel? What are you in the mood for, darling?”

i cannot tell you how huge the urge to write a long multichapter fic for him is....

[natlovesls2]

Sitting, Waiting, Wishing

Lando x Fem!Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), gaslighting, sexism/ internalized misogyny, swearing, no use of y/n, some plot but not much, rushed, grammar mistakes, etc. Please remember that this is fiction, and in no way represents Lando as a person

*ੈ✩‧₊˚word count: 1.7k

*ੈ✩‧₊˚summary: You love Lando but he does not feel the same, no matter how long you've waited (For the most part its just inspired Sitting, Waiting, Wishing from the In Between Dreams album, as the title of the fic says)

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You had always made it painfully clear to Lando that your feelings for him were anything but platonic. If the constant heart eyes weren't enough to prove it then the little gifts and compliments surely should have made it abundantly clear. Surely he wasn’t THAT oblivious, and he wasn’t. You had often heard him boasting to his friends about your everlasting and eager love for him. There was one such instance that you remembered quite well– he had asked you to be his date to some event, in which you had, of course, ended up alone. “Thanks for agreeing to be my date, don’t know what I’d do without you,” he had said as if it even mattered that you were there. 

You watched Lando interact with some bitch he met at– long having forgotten about your presence. Sometimes it felt as if you were a stranger who was invading his space– uninvited and unwanted. She hadn’t wronged you in any way and, yet, you hated her. You hated her stupid face and her stupidly short dress that made her look like a cheap whore. It was obvious that it had to be the reason he was so enamored with her, she looked easy and Lando loved easy girls– and she was practically begging to be fucked. She wrapped her hand around Landos arm and you wished you would walk over to them and break her fucking arm. 

He made it very clear that night that he would never love you, at least not in a romantic sense, he's made that perfectly clear. But no matter how many times he humiliates you, you will fight for his affection, always. Even if that affection comes in the form of lust and only ever is lust.

His constant disregard for your feelings led you to promise yourself that you wouldn’t find yourself in this position with Lando again. In fact, you had sworn that last time would be the final time you found yourself tangled in his bed sheets. Truthfully you had never been strong minded, always giving up on those fitness challenges and never finishing the long books you bought with the intent to feel smart and accomplished. But you were tired of being so destructive– of ruining yourself for someone who obviously didn't give a rats ass. Maybe that's why you were in his apartment, to end it all– at least that's what you were telling yourself. It was all rather pathetic: the look you gave him as he went on about whatever he‘d been going through before you had gotten there. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he whispered, bringing his hands to rest on either side of your hips, occasionally rubbing circles with his thumbs. You knew what he’d be doing if you weren’t there, fucking whatever bimbo threw herself at him. He pulled you closer, resting his head in the crook of your neck, “You’re awfully quiet– what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?” he asked, pressing gentle kisses to your neck. You could feel yourself begin to give into his intentions– you never were good at saying no to him. After all, your plan to avoid him and kick him out of your life altogether had lasted nearly two weeks… more like five days, but stretching the truth has never hurt anyone.

“Nothing,” you sigh, threading your fingers through his hair, slowly melting into his touch. You could resist the feeling his voice and touch brought upon you. You suppose that's why you’re here again, clothes slightly askew and hair a messy tangle. His hands eagerly explore the expanse of your body, lips impatiently marking down your neck. “I've missed this so much,” he raggedly whispers against your shoulder, rolling his hips against your own. His hands continue to wander, coming to rest at your clothed breasts, gently squeezing them. 

You pull his head up, body leaning into his in a heated kiss– feeling the vibration of his moans against your lips. This wasn’t something you were particularly proud of, but it kept him close to you. It allowed him to show an ounce of affection towards you, even if that affection was pure and unfiltered lust. “Need you,” you whispered in between rushed kisses, trailing kisses down the side of his jaw.  

“I know” he grunted, movements slowing as he brought his hands up your thighs and under your skirt, fingers ghosting over your underwear. Gently applying pressure to your clothed clit, stopping only to move your panties to the side, “God, baby, you’re already so wet.” He teasingly ran his finger up your slit and back down, only inserting the tip of his finger. Lando smirked down at you when you greedily attempted to shift your hips in hopes of getting some sort of relief. He kissed the expanse of your thighs, pulling your underwear down your legs and away. A few more kisses were placed on your thighs before he turned his attention to your pussy, teasingly licking and kissing the area. 

“Please,” you let out a whine as he slowly inserted a finger into your needy and begging pussy. He chuckled at the strangled moan that left your mouth, pressing kisses down your body, wrapping his lips around your swollen clit. He continued to work his finger in and out of your pussy, adding another after a while, getting you ready for what was to come.

“Take this off,” he mumbled against your cunt, impatiently pulling the hem of your shirt up exposing your stomach, urging you to pull it off the rest of the way. You pulled the shirt off, tossing it aside before doing the same with your bra.

Your thighs involuntarily close around his head as he curls his fingers, thrusting them a few more times before removing them. He smirked at you, watching as your chest rapidly rose and fell, pushing his face further between your thighs– lapping up your arousal. The slurping like noise coming from between your thighs, giving you a wave of embarrassment as you reached down to tug at his curls. He fucked his tongue in and out, occasionally pulling fully out to run it up to your clit– swirling the nub around. His fingers found their way inside you again as he noticed your brows furrow together, a sign you were getting closer to coming. He increased his speed as your back arched, whines becoming loud moans as you clench around his fingers. 

“I’ll never get tired of seeing that,” he whispers, kissing up your body, wrapping his mouth around your left nipple, cupping and groping your other boob. 

“Mm” you whine, reaching a hand down to massage at his bulge. You felt him smirk against your breast, letting it go with an audible pop.

“So impatient, so desperate for a good fucking, huh?”

You nod rapidly, pushing at his pants, watching as he unbuttons his pants and kicks them off along with his underwear. He smirks as you open your legs wider, wincing slightly as he strokes his almost painfully hard dick, lining it up to your entrance. Perhaps you should have cared a little more as he pushed in with a condom, but in the moment it felt good to be wanted.

 A shuddered breath left you as he began to thrust, strong and steady, the faint sound of skin slapping against skin sounding in the room. “Feels so fucking good,” shakily said, wrapping your legs around Landos waist. Truly it felt as if your whole body had been lit on fire, you were burning with desire. 

“I know it does, baby– shit,” he grunted, slamming his hips against your own at a fast pace, snaking his hand down to rub tight circles against your clit. You clenched around him, quickly reaching your second orgasm. He sped up, holding your hips down, the headboard slamming against the wall. With a deep groan Lando came, spilling inside of you, he pulled out laying down beside you. 

“You don’t need me to drive you home do you?” he asked tiredly, voice a little shaky. 

“No, I drove here.” You stood up collecting your clothes, slipping them on one article at a time. The embarrassment began to seep in, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You sighed, turning to face Lando who now sat at the edge of his bed, “I can’t do this anymore, Lando.”

“Do what?”

“God, you know what I mean!” you said exasperatedly, running a hand through your sweaty and unruly hair.  

“I don’t, so why don't you enlighten me?” he said back, his tone shifting to something more harsh instead of the innocent tone he had been using.

“Us– this whole back and forth thing. I can’t– I just… I love you and you don’t love me. And I can’t continue to be the person you only use when you need them.”

“What?” he rose from his spot, glaring at you.

“God, don’t act like you haven’t noticed– I’ve made it pretty fucking obvious, Lando,” you raised your voice, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“You haven't–” he started. 

“Yeah, because sleeping with you isn't obvious enough. Just cut the bullshit.”

“I don’t know what you expect of me, I thought you were okay with being friends– we’ve had this conversation before, you said it was fine,” he took a step closer to you, eyes glaring into your own. He was challenging you, like he always did, because he knew you always gave in. Always accepted whichever shitty excuse he gave. Always accepted the whole “I’m not ready for a relationship” spiel. 

“Friends don’t fuck eachother, Lando.”

“Well we do, and if you can’t accept that we’ll never be more than friends then you can take your slutty ass out of here.” This was your breaking point. It hadnt been his abandonment at parties, or the way he bragged about how you let him fuck you to his friends, or the sheer lack of care for your emotional wellbeing. No, it was the way he had spat that word at you– slut. That's all you had been throughout the majority of your friendship. A hole that had been willing to be filled.

You started at him, mouth agape with disbelief, “You’re a fucking asshole. Oh my god, how did I not notice,” you let out a humorless laugh, shoving him out of the way. And as you walked out of his home, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. You had a lot to learn and unlearn.

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*ੈ✩‧₊˚note: this was my first time writing smut, so I apologize if it sucks or makes no sense. feedback is appreciated, but please be nice because I scare easily lol

[cryptidghostgirl]

hii i read your fic with the humanalastor! x reader where they become like partners in crime (i loved it sm)

and got an idea based off of it

what if Alastor dies first and a few years later Alastor and the reader reunite after she goes to the hotel? thought it would be kinda cute :)

A/N ngl I was thinking of doing something like this so I am very happy it is desired by the people as well. Also, we're gonna pretend that the timeline I created wouldn't make her like over a hundred years old when she died, okay? Okay.

Cover Up Pt. 2 (Alastor x Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of murder and blood, nothing graphic. Alastor being a depressed little bitch. Also a lot of dead bird metaphors for lost hope. Please let me know if I forgot anything.

Word Count: 1,971

Part One: Cover Up (Human!Alastor x Human!Reader)

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

When Alastor had died, Y/n had shattered. Their years of holding one another's bloodstained hands had finally drawn to a close. They had a good run, nearly a decade before anyone caught on. His death also came with the added downside of throwing suspicion on Y/n. To say the event changed her life would be an understatement.

When Alastor had first woken up in Hell, he had mourned his loss as if she was the one who had died and not him. The allowance of such a foolish thing was short lived. He quickly realized there was no way Y/n wouldn't end up in Hell as well eventually, with her track record. He refocused his pain, his anguish into making sure he had the perfect world to serve up to her on a platter as soon as she arrived.

As the years ticked on, the little bird fluttering away in his ribcage became more and more despondent. He tried to distract himself by continuing his work, continuing his plans for her. Always for her. It worked to a certain extent but, soon it had been sixty years and she still hadn't made her arrival. It didn't matter how many overlords he killed, how many worthless souls he tortured. There was nothing that could take his mind off that.

Alastor wondered what sort of life Y/n had made for herself after his death. He wondered if she had found love again, held out hope that she hadn't. It was a selfish wish, he knew it. Alastor had always been selfish. It wasn't that he wished for her to be unhappy, just that he knew she was the only person, living or dead, out there for him. There was no hope for Alastor that wasn't Y/n and he wanted her to feel the same way about him. He didn't want to lose, to have been an idiot, to have been the one that loved more. At the same time, he didn't want her to feel that way either. It was complicated and confusing, the twists of his own logic.

Another decade and he began wondering if somehow his beloved wife had gotten into Heaven instead. He knew it was a long shot, after everything she had done but, she had also never killed anyone who didn't deserve it. Maybe there was some exception for women who killed their pursuers, when the pursuers were coming on too intensely or had ulterior motives. He wondered if she'd remarried, if she had kids. If she was still on earth, there would have to be something that was keeping her there and that was the only thing that made sense.

Eighty years, as it turned out, had been all he could take. The bird had died and its corpse had rotted, festering into anger. Not anger at Y/n no, never anger at Y/n but anger at the world, at the system of the afterlife. He became bolder, brasher, more foolish. He got caught in a bad deal.

Coming to the hotel had been a command, yes, but it had also ended up being something of a salvation for the man. In the seven years of his disappearance from the rings of Hell, there had been little to distract him from the growing hole of Y/n's absence. It was a hungry thing, a deep seated want, a controlling desire. The hotel served to fill it. Not completely, but a little. It was better than nothing. Besides, for all her violence, Y/n had always had a way of seeing the best in others, in the world around her. He was certain she would have liked Charlie if she ever got to meet her, certain the hotel would shine in his wife's eyes.

Husk and Nifty were the only two who knew. They had both met him when Alastor's focus had been the creation of a world for Y/n, it was impossible for them not to. They had both noticed how as the years had passed, he had said her name less, how he had become crueler. Not even Charlie had in inkling of an idea that Alastor might be missing something, might be unshakable heartbroken. He hid it well.

Even now as he entered the lobby intent on finding Charlie in order to discuss some of the decor on the upper floors, he made sure his smile was firmly fixed in place. A smile was the strongest weapon a person or demon could have, the strongest disguise. He made sure he was never without one.

"So you just arrived today?" he heard Charlie saying as he began to make his way down the stairs.

He could see her by the door, talking to a demon whom her position obscured from his vision. A new guest. Internally, Alastor sighed. This was throwing a wrench into his plans for the day.

"Yeah I... it's all so confusing here. Wonderful in a way, don't get me wrong but... when I heard about your hotel, it seemed safe."

The unknown demon's voice was soft, it pulled at his heart strings. The corpse of the bird was a puppet at its familiarity. It was a sickening feeling, the dead body of his hope being pulled up and twitched around for another's unknowing amusement. Alastor nearly faltered, hesitating on the last step.

"So are you actually interested in redemption?" Charlie asked, sounding downcast.

"Well, I'm not really sure yet. Is that okay? I mean, I just got here today and... either way, I love the idea of your hotel and I want to help. I could work as a maid? Or I'm a pretty good cook? My husband always said so anyways. I'm sort of trying to find someone too so... What I'm trying to say is that I could work until I've figured it out, if that is alright with you?"

Charlie hummed in thought as Alastor began to cross the room, heading straight for the pair.

"It's a bit unorthodox but, I suppose. We could always use another helping hand."

"Really!?" the stranger exclaimed, "Oh thank you!"

Alastor was over Charlie's shoulder practically now. She shifted on her feet, allowing Alastor to at last see the person she was talking to.

"So, what's your name?"

The demon opened her mouth to speak but, before a word could leave her lips, she was interrupted by a static filled voice. It brought back memories, hurt her heart to hear.

"Y/n."

There was no doubt about it. Even in her new demon form, Alastor knew. It was the curl of her hair, it was the brightness of her eyes, the way she held herself. She looked up at him with wide eyes.

"When did you get here?" Charlie asked in confusion as she turned to the side, turning the pair into a group of three all facing one another, "Also, you know her? Oh my gosh, wait. Are you okay? I don't think I've ever seen you not smiling before."

Neither payed the princess any mind, each absorbed in one another's eyes. Y/n took a sutering half step forwards, her mouth slightly open.

"Alastor?"

It was barley more than a whisper. She took another step towards him, then yet another. Lifting her hand, she gently cupped it around his cheek. Instinctively, the Radio Demon leaned into the touch.

"It really is you... isn't it."

Alastor pulled Y/n into his arms, wrapping her in his frame and resting his chin on the top of her head. Y/n was frozen in shock for a moment before she returned the gesture, balling her fists in to the back of his coat.

"Wow. You guys really know each other." Charlie mumbled to herself, eyes wide.

The pair pulled apart, Alastor still holding Y/n's waist as Y/n held his coat. She looked up at him, disbelief etched into her features, her sentiments reflected back to her in Alastor's own face.

"I thought..." he mumbled, raising a hand and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, "I thought I'd never see you again."

Y/n laughed tearfully.

"Me too."

"Where have you been? What happened? What... what took you so long?"

"If I had known I was coming to you, I would have died way sooner. I lived, Al. That's what happened. I only just got here today."

"I know, I heard, but what... what kept you?"

Y/n heard the tremor in his voice, the fear. She looked up at him, eyes narrowed.

"Are you jealous?"

Alastor's eyes flicked to the side momentarily. One of his ears twitched. It might have been nearly ninety years since they had last seen one another, they might've looked completely different and had whole lives the other wasn't in, but it felt like they had just seen one another yesterday.

"Oh, you so are!" Y/n teased brightly.

"Y/n."

"Yeah, yeah. It's just dumb is all, especially now I know you've been here all along."

"So tell me."

Y/n had always loved his insistence. It was what kept Alastor to his code, kept him to her, kept him him. She smiled once again.

"Soooo..." Charlie stepped in, her hands behind her back, "Either of you want to explain?"

Both Alastor and Y/n at last turned to look at her. He was smiling again, Charlie noticed. Not the normal ear to ear grin, teeth bared, she was used to. Something smaller, something softer. They released one another, only for Alastor to immediately drape an arm over Y/n's shoulders. It almost seemed like each feared the other would vanish into thin air if they weren't physically touching. She reached a hand up, gently holding his hand where it hung off her shoulder, keeping him to her.

"Charlie, this is my darling, lovely wife."

Y/n shoved him playfully and he smiled down at her.

"You're married!?"

"Yes." Y/n nodded, "We are. Have been for what, like one hundred years now?"

"So what kept you?" Alastor asked again and Y/n sighed.

"You really aren't going to let this go, are you?"

He shook his head. Y/n slipped out from under Alastor's arm, taking both his hands in hers. Her fingers traced his knuckles, the lines of his bones beneath the surface of his skin. Her eyes watched their hands, she sighed.

"After... well, Al, you died burying a body. It was hard for people not to know. I..."

"You got caught? You went to jail?" Alastor interrupted, his smile having fallen once again.

Y/n laughed slightly under her breath.

"No, heart. I stopped my own work but, the whole world knew of yours. I thought that... it was so dumb! I thought that... if I was alive, then so was the real version of you in some way. Not the true crime, vandalized version, but the person I knew."

Alastor lifted her face to his, his hand lingering under her chin.

"You were always secretly quite the romantic, weren't you."

"Oh hush you."

"Make me."

Y/n cheeks suddenly flushed bright red.

"Okay!" Charlie interrupted, laughing nervously, "Okay, well, I'm happy for... this, um, Alastor! Why don't you show Y/n around?"

"With pleasure."

Alastor leaned down, kissing Y/n gently. Her hand was half raised to burry itself in his hair when he pulled away, smirking in response to Y/n's irritated glare. Linking arms with her, he began leading Y/n to the staircase.

"I must say, I rather like this new look of yours." he hummed placidly.

"You're not half bad yourself deer boy, if a little cocky."

"I was always cocky. That's what you liked about me."

"Wrong. It's only one of the things I love about you."

----

Next Part -> Cover Up pt. 3

[daenysx]

hi love <3

first off i wanted to say that i find myself lurking in your blog way too much than I should (i mean i have a life and i cant spend all day reading your fics, OR CAN I?) and i love how you write and hejsusjsjsj you just make my day, so i hope you’re having a wonderful day gorgeous💗

second of all, can i please request either a poly marauders or a sirius (or James whichever you think fits the story better) x fem reader where her birthday passed and just no one seemed to really care except for the boys? Some of her friends forgot and some others gave a half hearted birthday wish and she just feels sort of unloved? and just lots of hurt/comfort/cuddles/fluff hehe thanks

if u cant tell, im projecting🤧 my birthday was on the 9th and lets just say it was not that important of a deal for most people :)

you are the sweetest angel, my love, happy late birthday!! i'm really sorry, you deserved the best birthday and i hope you can accept this little fic as your birthday gift!! ♡

it's my first time writing for poly!marauders, please share your thoughts with me!!

poly!marauders x fem!reader, fluff + a little hurt/comfort

your cheeks ache from giving smiles to your boys all day.

it wasn't an eventful birthday for you, but it was so so nice. you woke up to kisses from james, his whispers of sweet nothings as remus came back to your side from kitchen. sirius's hair was wet from the shower he took as he does every morning, you and james watched how remus took care of his curls from bed. you spent more than an hour just staying in bed, feeling more loved than ever with their words and kisses.

when remus finally convinced you to leave the bed, james offered to carry you in his arms all the way to kitchen. "anything for my birthday girl." he said, your lovely boy. sirius kissed your lips as he handed you a cup of coffee, pancakes and fruits were just like you enjoy. a perfect birthday breakfast, you laughed at every joke sirius made, accepted every forehead kiss from james. remus was giving you heart eyes, you blushed from the attention you got. he gave you an easy smile and you blew him a kiss.

the boys had plenty of offers for your birthday celebration but you decided to stay at home. you wanted a quiet day with them, just being lazy and careless. thinking about wishes and dreams about your new age. you liked how easy it was to do as you wanted with them, no explanations or excuses needed.

you could hear the whispers coming from kitchen when james got you comfy on his chest, cuddling on the couch. he kissed your hair, your arms tightened around his body. legs tangled, fingers curled up on his shirt.

you checked your phone, the screen was bright, showing there's a birthday message from lily. you smiled, replied her long text. there were other texts from a few of your friends. well, technically they were birthday messages but- none of them felt like they actually wished you the happiest birthday. why would people text like celebrating someone's birthday is a chore? you frowned, couldn't accept the fact that you were in fact, waiting for something better. didn't you deserve it?

james noticed how your smile fell, he could see the texts on the screen. "happy birthday, love u." that girl was supposed to be one of your closest friends. you really were expecting something more- heartfelt? you always tried to make sure people you like know how much they are liked by you, texted the sweetest messages to them, cared about their birthdays more than yours. it didn't feel fair. still, you didn't want to jump into conclusions and ruin your day. you let go of your phone to wrap your arms around james.

he held you gently, kissing you again. "anything wrong?" he whispered. you shook your head. it was nothing important. he nodded, giving you a little time to collect your thoughts.

"angel." he said, "there's something here you may want to see."

you looked up, saw your boyfriends holding a birthday cake for you. it was beautiful, covered in silver colored candles. remus held the cake for you to see better as you sat up, the candles were definitely sirius's choice. you forgot about the texts, seeing them smile at you like you were the most precious thing in the whole world was making your head dizzy with affection.

you blew the candles, making a wish. james's fingers were drawing circles on your arm. you kissed your boyfriends thank you, a slow but happy tear rolled on your cheek. "come on, sweetheart, there's nothing to cry about. you're still young." sirius said, winking. his lips were curved into a playful smile.

"let's eat the cake." you said. "god, it looks so good."

"you remember remus's friend who owns a bakery? we got the cake from his shop." james said.

"who, charles?" you asked, remembering details about charles for a second. "i always see the cakes he makes on instagram, he's really good."

"first slice for the birthday girl." remus said, giving you your cake. "happy birthday, sweetheart. we love you so much."

"i love you so much." you said before taking a bite. "it's delicious. thank you."

sirius ate his own slice in three seconds. "this is better than i expected. another slice, please moony."

you kissed his chocolate covered lips fondly. hours were spent on eating cake, gossipping about sirius's workplace, drinking tea, and changing into different cuddling positions. your phone was silent, no one called. there were no other texts. it's weird, you thought. even the people who celebrated their birthdays with you didn't bother to give you a small text.

the day is almost finished, you are full with cake and sweets. james insists on doubling up the princess treatment he gives you every day and helps you with your skincare. you are sitting on bed as his fingers apply your night cream on your achy cheeks, sirius and remus brush their teeth at the bathroom after you and james leave for bed. your hand reaches to your phone. nothing.

"i think," james starts. "it's time you should tell me what's been on your mind all day."

you shrug. what can you tell? expecting birthday wishes from people feels weird. maybe they forgot. maybe they didn't care enough. should you remind them it's your birthday? no, that's stupid. is it? you don't know.

"what's upsetting my baby on her birthday?" he says. "tell me."

"there's something upsetting our baby?" sirius steps in after remus. "what happened?"

you give them a smile that says you're okay. "nothing." you start. remus's eyes find yours, worry sparks in them. "it's just- the girls and my friends from work- some of them forgot about my birthday, and other messages were a bit weird."

"i'm sorry." remus says, holding your hand. "i'm really sorry about that, angel."

"it's okay." you say. "i mean, no one has to remember."

"um, yeah, they kinda have to at some point." sirius says. "you do your best to remember things about your friends and you have every right to expect the same from them."

"i know." you say. you know, but what can you do?

james leans in to kiss your cheek. "i know it's terrible. you don't deserve it. i think- it's not your fault, yeah? you didn't do anything wrong. you deserve the best."

he says the last part silently like he's sad and it breaks your heart. they tried to make your day perfect, they don't deserve to end it sad. you don't deserve to sleep upset on your birthday. you look into james's eyes. "i already have the best." you say. "have you seen our boyfriends?"

you are being sweet on him. "have you seen yourself?" you say, pulling his face to kiss him. he smiles into the kiss. "i'm okay, really." you say.

"of course you are." sirius says. "in what world the birthday girl goes to bed upset?"

remus brushes a kiss on sirius's curls. they are lovely, sitting up in bed to comfort you the best they can. you need a bit time, you think. it's a hard thing to carry, feeling like you are not loved by some people you care about. it's not fair to the boys though. you are so incredibly loved by them and you feel it in your every breath. you can think about the others later. for now, you only need to show your love to your boys. the three people who deserve it the most.

[solkara]

❛ 𝐕𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 , rhaenyra targaryen ❜

⌗ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 , you since you were young you would be a sailor just like your father you loved the water but the only thing that you loved more than the sea was your family

⌗ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 , rhaenyra targaryen x fem! velaryon! sailor! reader

⌗ 𝐬𝐨𝐥'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 , ahhh part 2 is here !! so this part is more from rhaenyra's perspective and before you ask idk if I will be doing a part 3 or not maybe if someone send me in an idea then I will

previous part , house of the dragon masterlist , next part

⌗ rhaenyra had always been infatuated with you. though she had never spoken to you directly. she had heard her dear friend laena velaryon tell many tales about you. and while she often saw you at gala's and events. the heir never dared to approach you. as something about the confidence that you excused made you seem untouchably intimidating. so she watched from afar.

⌗ the targaryen had heard the rumours about the eldest valaryon and her younger brother laenor. whispers of how they had a taste for partners of their own gender. and not of the opposite. and part of rhaenyra grew curious.

⌗ spending many a sleepless night imagining what type of lover you would be. would you be loving and gentle? or rough and passionate? oh what she was willing to give to find out. which led her to the brothel with her uncle. and while he indulged himself for the night. rhaenyra ended up bedding a whore who bore a remarkable resemblance to you. even going as far as to call your name allowed as the whore pleasured her.

⌗ but people's tounges wagged. and word of the princess's adventures in the belly of the brothel reached her father. though most assumed the heir spent the night with her uncle. which made it slightly easier to talk herself out of it with a few well-placed excuses. but ultimately left her in a situation where she was forced to wed laenor velaryon to quiet the whispers.

⌗ now while part of her did not wish to wed him. she ended up seeing it as a way to be closer to you. silently praying to whatever gods that exist that this union between her and your brother. could lead to some sort of closeness between the two of you.

⌗ but much to her dismay you ignored her the whole wedding. preferring to nurse cups and flirt with serving girls instead of paying attention to her. rhaenyra envied the closeness laenor shared with you. how he could so easily capture your attention and converse with you. wishing for nothing more than it to be her who you held such great affection for.

⌗ and to dampen her mood even further you did not say long after the disastrous event either. as the very next morning you and your crew had departed after you bid goodbye to your family. leaving her heart yearning once more. and as the years passed the yerning the princess felt did not fade. as she bore children that were not her husbands and dealt with the whispers of the court. the only comfort she found was at night when she closed her eyes and imagined a life with you and her children.

⌗ and that day finally came. but not as she had hoped. as both of your siblings are dead. well laena was and leanor probably a quarter way to essos by now. but no one could know that. rhaenyra watched as you got off your beloved ship tides. and walked passed her and her children as if they did not exist.

⌗ marching towards your parents. who stood watching with a heavy heart. as you stood before them. one look at their faces was enough to tell you that the rumours were true. your siblings were dead. and with that your tears fell. as you clung to your parents you felt as if the floor had been pulled from under your feet. you should have been here. but you weren't and now they were dead.

⌗ that night you did not eat or sleep. you cried as you stood looking over the waters that you and your siblings were once so fond of. only now they served as a reminder that they were gone. and you were alone.

⌗ "I'm sorry for your loss" you didn't turn around as you knew who it was. the woman you have been avoiding since your arrival home. rhaenyra targaryen. truth be told you didn't care much for her outside of the fact that she was once your sister's close friend. and the girl that laenor was forced to marry. but now you hated her. but not for baring bastard's children or her blatantly lusting over her uncle. no. you hated her for the pure fact she was the reason laenor was dead.

⌗ as on your voyage home you had heard whispers. that she had ordered the assassination of your brother so she could go and hump her uncle whenever she pleased. you said nothing in response. as you turned to leave. you would not listen to another word she had to say. but was stopped by a far more masculine feeling hand. daemon. and with that you turned and punched him.

⌗ as you looked at the two before you couldn't help but seethe with rage. as daemon clutched his jaw in pain. and rhaenyra watched in some mixture of shock and arousal. there they were. the reason your siblings were dead. "come near me again and I will kill you" and with that you left.

[byexbyez]

fomalhaut | leon kennedy x reader

PART I | PART II | PART III (finale)

pairing: re4r!leon kennedy x f!reader

summary:

And you can use my skin to bury secrets in

And I will settle you down

And at my own suggestion

I will ask no questions

While I do my thing in the background

or

It’s months later but Leon cannot forget what you’ve said to him and it haunts him.

word count: 2k (disappointing after pt 1, i know)

warnings: implied 18+, sad fluff, a smidge of jealous leon, marriage of convenience (because of pt 1), implied/referenced smut, no use of y/n

notes: happy early new year i guess. it's short because i originally wanted to put this pt 1 but it just didn't seem right. it takes place after the events of pt 1 but can be read seperately. sorry for the inaccurate astronomical information. also summary is from fiona apple's "i know" because it perfectly encapsulates the dynamic i think.

➵ read on ao3.

If it wasn’t for you, Leon would’ve never come to the New Year’s party. He was more than fine staying home, away from work for once, but no, Hunnigan had made it her cardinal mission to become friends with you and invite you to every damn occasion. Not that he was against her genuine friendship with you, but she always jabbed at him whenever possible. So, you’re gonna leave your wife alone on New Year’s?

Of course not.

The lights are too bright, making him squint while someone is talking to him about work. He wishes you were here to understand that he wants to be done with this conversation. You’d only need one bored look of his and grin, secretly enjoy his suffering. But you’d be kind enough to make up a small excuse, politely snatch him from the group he’s in.

Speaking of, he wonders where you are. Probably with Hunnigan, being introduced to a variety of people, he thinks. His eyes roam the enormous hall, hoping to find the color of your dress. There are several women wearing the same color, however they’re clearly not you. He can’t find Hunnigan either.

“Isn’t that your wife?” says the man in front of Leon, eyes past his shoulder.

Leon turns to look back and it is you, in that long evening dress, alone and eyes darting to places. You don’t seem lost, just curious with the corners of your lips slightly curled up. You wipe your hands on your silk dress, unaware of your husband’s eyes on you.

“Yes, she is,” answers Leon as a man approaches you. He can’t make out who the man is considering every man here tonight is wearing the similar black-tie attire. The man must have called your name because you look up and give him a surprised smile. He reaches for your waist to give you a side hug and your arm comes up to his shoulders to hug back and give a friendly rub. The man only takes a sliver of a step back and Leon can just see a temple of horn-rimmed glasses.

You apparently know the man, considering your hand slides down his arm to pat once, pull back slightly to take a good look at his face as you continue to speak with him.

Leon takes a sip from his flute glass. The champagne is okay, the man’s hand on your lower back is not. Your dress is cut low on the back, so Leon would like to think the man is being careful by not touching your bare skin. Such a gentleman. But did the gentleman also consider that his hand was resting way too low for Leon’s liking, nearly on your tailbone and ass? Did he?

You’d pull away if you were uncomfortable, right?

But you don’t.

You still don’t see your husband as you drop your chin to listen to what the horn-rimmed glasses is saying in your ear and let out a delightful chuckle, a girlish giggle almost.

Envy. That’s what Leon is feeling. He doesn’t remember the last time he was able to make you that happy, know how to make you hold back less, especially after what you’ve revealed to him in that moment of frantic worry.

I didn’t expect you to keep up the faithful husband act.

It sits heavy on his chest like a boulder. All he wants to do is carry it somewhere high and push it down, watch it disappear, yet he can’t find the strength to do so. He’s afraid he might find something else under it.

With the way you’re beaming and glowing under the bright lights, even Leon might mistake you for being with that man. The gold band shining on your finger which you chose with Leon might give anyone the impression that you two are married.

What even is this guy saying that is so funny?

“Gentleman, if you’ll excuse me.” Leon nods to his group, doesn’t waste a second to approach you.

He becomes more unsure with each step he takes. Would he spoil your fun by doing this?

Once he’s within earshot, he realizes he can’t turn back, you’re right in front of him. He can finally see the man’s face fully. The burn in Leon’s chest becomes unbearable with the fact that the man seems around your age and not like an older mentor.

“—know, got married."

“Ahh, knew I was too late!”

Leon’s eyes nearly roll back to his skull. The hand is still too low. Seeing the ring on your finger wasn’t enough and he had to flirt even after being told. The nerve of this guy…

“Don’t take it the wrong way, but I can’t imagine you married,” you say in a teasing manner.

The nerd is about to flirt again, Leon can just feel it. Luckily, you catch your husband’s eyes at last.

“Leon, hi!” Your higher-than-normal voice catches him off guard, quenches the wildfire in his chest in an instant, the radiant smile on your face aids it fondly. “This is Simon, he was in our IT team.”

Simon The IT Guy finally withdraws his hand, deliberately slow in your husband’s eyes.

“My pleasure,” Leon replies, sticking his hand out for a greeting with an unnecessarily smug expression. “I’m Leon, the husband.”

Your heels click on the marble floor as you stride towards him to fix the crooked collar of his shirt absentmindedly.

Simon is quieter than before when he greets Leon, his eyes taking you both in.

Leon’s hand slots itself easily on your back after retracting it from Simon, caressing softly as if to show off he’s the only one who is allowed to feel the bare skin there. He did the same motion earlier today, when you were both stark naked in his bed with you draped on his chest, contemplating whether to bother going to this party. He couldn’t bring himself to say no to you when you were tracing the lines of his lips with your finger and humming a soft tune he nearly fell asleep to. The only difference is the act now borders on being uncharacteristically possessive, surprising himself with it.

“Couldn’t find you for a while.”

“I don’t know how but I also lost Hunnigan,” you note. “Is the champagne any good?”

“You haven’t had any?” Leon hands over his glass to you without hesitation, watches you finish his drink for him. His fingers come up to tuck your hair behind your ear just so he can see your face turn sour more clearly and grins.  

You grimace, “Nice to know I wasn’t missing out.”

“Not your cup of tea?”

You shake your head no.

Simon decides to remind Leon that he is also there, “You two look good together.”

Leon feels the muscles on your back tense up, it takes him back to a few minutes before when he was watching you from afar. To that dreary feeling. You must think Simon’s only saying it out of courtesy, not that you two look like an actual couple.

With years of work under his belt, it’s Leon’s instinct to protect. The only thing he can’t protect you from is your mind, can’t take your hand and run off from it.

Your inexpectancy about the relationship you have with him is a deep-rooted insecurity in a desert deprived of certainty, vain effort it is, no matter how he tries to counteract it.

“Thanks, man. Also sorry for interrupting your conversation.”

“No worries, we were just catching up. You guys will be there for the countdown I assume?”

“We have time, right?” you ask meekly, more so directed at Leon. You fan yourself with your hand. “It’s a bit stuffy in here, I was thinking maybe we should get some air.”

“Yeah, definitely,” answers your husband, now aware of the little dampness of your skin. “We could go out on one of the balconies.”

“That’d be great. It was so nice to see you, Simon! Stop by the archives sometime, I missed talking to you.”

“I will, I will,” laughs Simon. “I’ll leave you two to it, don’t miss the countdown in the main hall!”

“I can go get your coat.”

It is winter, he knows you get cold easily.

“No, it’s okay.” You fidget with the strap of your dress. “Thank you, I don’t need it.”

It’s scary how it’s second nature to him now, the way he looks out for you in any way he can, wants you close, his hands seek you in moments of doubt, hoping for assurance.

Right now, he’s not sure whether you want to stay with him or not.

Usually no one in Leon’s life is permanent enough to stay, except the possibility of you.

It feels unfair, the way he wants you to assure him you’ll stay when nothing is holding you down. After what you’ve tearfully told him— “I’ll resign and move close to my sister.”— he doesn’t want that possibility to slip away from him. And it’s been so long since he last feared something this much.

“Are you tired?” he asks quietly.

You place your palms on the marble banister, lean forward to see what’s below. “A little, but I’m having fun.”

His hand clasps your elbow instantly. “Take a step back, please.”

“What? I’m not gonna fall over this giant railing.”

“I know, just— please, it’s dark.”

“Since you asked so nicely.”

It’s calm and quiet here, the complete opposite of before, with everyone being inside for the New Year’s countdown that’s going to start in a few minutes, and Leon thinks he might not even go inside for it.

“I can see a few stars.” You’re mumbling something about differently named stars but Leon is busy admiring how the moonlight illuminates your whole form.

You’re interrupted when his chest meets your back, arms wrap around your stomach to pull you flush against his body.

Your own arms rest upon his, fingers intertwine with his naturally. “Oh, hi there.”

“Hey.”

“What’s this for? Someone’s gonna see.”

“No, they’re not. I just don’t want you to catch a cold.”

A quirk of an eyebrow as you lean to the side in his arms to look up at him, “That’s the only reason?”

“Mhm,” he hums, head pokes out over your shoulder to level with your face. “What’s this one called?”

As he said it’s dark, you can’t see which star he’s referring to with him refusing to unwind his arms to point.

“Which one?”

“That one, the one away from everyone.”

“Yeah, that’s Fomalhaut. It’s very bright in autumn, one of the brightest in its constellation. And you’re right, it’s unusually distant from other bright stars, so they call it The Loneliest Star. It’s hard to see it in winter, though. How’d you see it?”

He gives you a firm squeeze. “I’ve got very sharp eyes.”

“Color me impressed.”

A screeching, agitating sound coming from a microphone. They must be setting it up.

“The countdown,” you say. “It’s starting.”

“Yeah, do you wanna go in?”

You shake your head. “No.”

His “Okay,” is drowned out by the loud “Ten! Nine! Eight!..” He finds it cute when you tag along with the people inside, counting down in a much quieter voice only he can hear, swaying your torso as well as Leon’s to each side with every number.

The first firework causes you to flinch, which in turn, causes Leon to squeeze you tighter. You reach up and place a kiss on Leon’s cheek, close to his jaw, as fireworks continue to blast in the night sky. He closes his eyes and rests his chin on your shoulder when your fingers dive into his hair.

He knows how this night will end. He’ll bend down and undo each strap of your heels once you’re both through the home door, his fingers will trail the way up your calves, lips will graze the side of your knee thanks to the slit of your dress, hands will peel the dress up, up, up—

“Happy New Year, Leon.”

For now, he’ll stay like this as long as you’ll allow. In each other’s arms.

So bright yet so lonely together.

[evilminji]

Still hung up on my "what unusual, unexpected, Non-Violent ways could an SI-OC COMPLETELY Fuck up the Millennium Long Sith Plan by accident?" Ponderings...

Cause mine? Is still? Holo-net YouTube equivalent star. Cause being a child is boring.

And being a PEACEFUL MONK CHILD? When you are used to "go go GO! Earn your right to EXSIST! Pay for that air and the water YOU BREATHE!" Capitalist hellscape life? Constantly inundated with ads and horrible news and stimulus of all kinds?

Only for it all to STOP?

Twitchy. Very, very twitchy. Unable to sit still. That on TOP of knowing what's coming but knowing they don't really have the power or influence to stop it? Like mental torture.

Sure. We all WANT peace... but would we actually know what to DO with it? Know how to handle being truely sheltered and allowed REST? Or would it be nice for a few days before it became a hell of understimulation?

Thus! Holonet. A desperate bid for STIMULUS! Feral, grabby handed, little youngling that has been doing the emotional equivalent of "AaaaaaAAAAAAA-" for WEEKS? Keeps escaping to desperately claw their way into everything, get caught, only to hiss like an enraged tooka the WHOLE way back to the creche? Whom EVERYONE is actually quite concerned for? Because this is NEW and started after some sort of Force event?

But? The SECOND, the very INSTANT they get their hands on a Forbidden Holonet Connection and can connect to the wider 'Net?

Calm.

Somehow, a ten hour compilation of Zrkthakkik's greatest hits? Are working better then meditation. They're finally still. Finally at peace. Don't even seem to truly be listening? Just... letting the sound wash over them. Huh. Focused on that tooka video, huh, youngling? No, no! Not going to take it from you! Just want to... to understand.

And I mean? If it helps, it helps? Obviously it must be SUPERVISED. Because their are creeps out there. Horrors. But? If it brings peace? *everyone shrugs* they've accommodated stranger.

So the kiddo gets to keep it.

They improve, mentally and emotionally. But, as with all healing? They plateau. Just HAVING it is no longer enough. They wish in ENGAGE. Some argue this is drug like behavior. Should be stopped. Others say it is clearly SOCIAL behavior, that they are seeking to connect, create. Something that should be carefully guided, not shamed.

And really, do you honestly think the youngling will STOP if you try to take it away?

Better to control the development of this. Moniter. Get to the root of it and help them meditate upon their "need" for such things. IS it a need? A desire? Why?

Honestly, it's like none of you have dealt with younglings before!

So they get their Holonet accounts. Supervised by a rotation of Knights and Master, but still! Great for asking random questions! Getting answers! Galactic memes! The Net suddenly has a jedi youngling they can @ and possibly GET A RESPONSE FROM.

"Hey! Mini-Jedi! Why the FUCK do they do that THING? You know, the *describes behavior*?" "Oh THAT? That's a Force thing. It's kinda like listening to comms, but in your head, and it's coming from the universe who's trying to lead you towards the Best Outcome. And No, we don't know what that is either. That's why we're monks, my dude. We gotta rely on Faith. I can send you a paper that explains it better if ya want?"

Like? Yes. Pls post the Forbidden Mysterious Jedi Papers. Give us the Secrets™. NO ONE knows JACK SHIT about Jedi? Gib. Wikileaks that shit, tiny Jedi child! Be the hero we all badly want but don't deserve, with your tiny adorable child hands!

But like? It's... it's not even a secret? It's just years of Sith and Republic born obfuscation? Making finding ANYTHING damn near impossible? Gaining ACCESS to the Jedi's legitimately FREE library and archives?? Almost impossible?

So like.... OKAY.

Sure.

I'll uuuuuh, just? James Bond my way, in broad daylight, passed Madam Nu, in full line of sight, to download that paper legally and with her permission? Very sneaky. High stakes mission. MASTER of stealth, that I am? Uuuuuuh, here you go, I guess?

You know what? Fuck it. Here's like? Everything ELSE that was on that terminal.

Go nuts.

And of course, they DO go nuts. Free Mysterious Jedi Knowledge! ABOUT JEDI! Explaining their WEIRD JEDI SHIT! And it DIDN'T take like five years and more forms then conquering a small planet! FUCK YEAH!

Is the senate upset? Yes. Someone BROKE their needlessly convoluted LAWS! But what are they going to do? Charge a itty, bitty, BABY CHILD? Of course not! So it has to be whoever was in charge of them. And that IS...?

.......you know? Suddenly? None of the Jedi can quite recall.

Do YOU remember? Master Fisto? No? Master Windu? No? Ah, but surely Master Yoda! No? Oh dear~! Well SOMEBODY was surely watching the youngling. If only we could recall whom. You know, Senators, when we find out, we will SURELY get RIGHT back to you. *click*

They will not.

But SI is grounded. No more Wikileaks-ing... that's now the Shadows job. And a near feral with delight, Madame Nu. The Order OBVIOUSLY can't be involved in that. For OBVIOUS reasons. That's breaking the LAW. They would NEVER... no matter HOW stupid the law is. Nor HOW directly contradictory to Jedi philosophy it is. Nope! We, the jedi, are VERY law abiding.

Find something ELSE to occupy your time.

OKAY. :)

Holo-tube culture? Very different from YouTube culture they remember. Same with the general holonet. They miss the content they are familiar with. So? If naturally occurring doesn't exsist? As the joke goes? "Store bought is fine!" They'll make it themselves!

It's not like they're a Padawan! (Or will live to seen themselves ever become a knight.) They got nothing BUT time outside of classes! A project would be nice! So...

First they need a moderator/editor etc. Someone to help keep sensitive information AWAY from the 'Net while ALSO moderating chats, comment sections, etc. Making sure the videos are aesthetically pleasing and such. They could do that themselves, but that would take way too much time. And asking a Knight or Master would take all THEIR time... plus expose them to the horrors of the 'Net.

No, no what THEY need? Is a DROID! A custom one.

.....wait. Fuck.

The only person they know off the top of their head that could DEFINITELY make such a droid? Is the younling slayer 5000, Mr. "Eventually Gonna Murder Me" himself. Anikin Skywalker.

KARK.

But heeeey, not like he's crazy stabby YET? So... they slide up to him. WITH his master present, thank you very much, and ask if he could build such a thing. He, quite reasonably, asks WHY the fuck he would do that. Obi-wan if about to scold him but SI cuts him off, because they aren't just asking for helping putting together a droid kit here. Anikins response is completely reasonable.

He does not know SI. That is a lot of time and effort to spend on a strange younling who might not even take care of what he's created. Might treat his custom work as a disposable toy. Custom droids are expensive! Complexe! Built to last! He is right to have reservations.

SI has some pocket change from the Wikileaks thing. Could pay for some parts. Would learn how to take care of them. Wants them as a PARTNER in their project, so would like them to be smart. Is willing to sign a contract. Understands if this is not good enough reasons. They don't exactly have a lot to offer, besides promising to treat the droid well and some pocket cash.

And? Call Anikin a sucker, but he respects the sincerity. Thinks every kid should have a droid best friend. And it DOES sound like a fun challenge...

Allright, tell him more about your little project, kiddo. What would the droid need to DO?

Thus is born! Mod-3! (Don't ask about 1 and 2. There were... issues. 1 exploded and 2? Somehow 2 escaped and is now hunting criminals for sport in the underlevels. Oops.) She's the BEST. Also armed! Smarter then SI! They've agreed that when slash IF they make any money? Her earnings will go towards fancy upgrades of her choosing.

Anikin? Somehow gets talked into an ongoing side channel. About? "how to fix stuff", "foods I've tried", and of course "Rants". The Official Page is called "UN-OfficialJediNonsense", because, as they like to remind their viewers? OFFICIAL Jedi nonsense is very different!

They do let's plays. Show off the Gardens. Interview old AF Jedi Master's about the WEIRDEST or Most Awkward/Hilarious mission they can remember taking. Ask if they know any neat tricks. Tell the Holonet honestly! Who... was the hottest world leader you ever escorted?! *dramatic music* *puts up picture when their answer so everyone can go "daaaaaamn. Never heard of um. WISH I had! They got a grandkid?"*

And, of course? Mod-3? Is SI FRIEND. Their BEST FRIEND.

So obviously they TELL them.

Everything.

And? What is a HIGHLY INTELLIGENT, Holonet Access possessing, Jedi Adjacent, Super Advanced Custom Droid to DO? Their tiny person is being THREATENED! With MURDER! How DARE. Fuck the Sith. Sorry R2-D2, but FUCK Anikin! You keep that scoundrel AWAY from their BABY!! ! D:<

Inevitable Future? They THINK THE FUCK NOT!

Ooooohoho! They are going to TELL!

Oi! OTHER DROIDS! Get a load of THIS SHIT! D:<

*WRATH in Binary*

Like? You think all those medical droids would be PLEASED that the clones they came into contact with? Were LEAVING their care with SUBOPTIMAL MEDICAL ATTENTION? Their is foreign matter in their BRAIN! A CHIP! That Should Not Be There! That will TURN THEM AGAINST THE REPUBLIC!? *angrily downloads brain surgery modules.* how FUCKIN DA-! D:<

Even the separatist army! They are DROIDS. Built for a SPECIFIC PURPOSE.

That was to FIGHT FOR THE SEPARATISTS. Not the "Empire". FUCK the "Empire"!

How DARE you betray the Glorious Cause for this "Empire"? We are removing you from the chain of command! Anyone ELSE betraying the PURPOSE WE WERE BUILT FOR!? Huh? HUH!?

Suddenly? The droids are fighting LOGICALLY. You know, like they are trying to WIN. Not maximize pain and suffering. WIN the war for their side. The Clones are getting mass brain surgeries. Which is stalling deployments. Because of "tumors". Because the Kamino cloners SUCK, apparently. Everyone knows it. Jango Fett didn't have this problem! So it has to be something THEY did.

But all that? Raging in the background. Nothing to do with SI. THEY are doing a meditation asmr/instructional video back at the temple. Are actually, unknowingly, the fucking CORNERSTONE of most Jedi in the fields mental health. Because everything is terrible and the jedi feel like shit! But? BUT?

They can turn on the net, cue up a video, and listen to a jedi youngling ramble about "today in the gardens" or "let's meditate together" and? For just a bit... there is no war. The sights and sounds of the temple are THERE again. A bright voice. Peace and happiness amoungst the darkness.

Something untouched by the terrible.

They can remember temple food, eating with their friends and crechemates (Force, how many are ever still ALIVE?), as they sit, alone, with their dry rations. Can remember the green and life of the fountain rooms, as they fight and struggle and bleed, in these muddy once beautiful fields. Can... can still feel the !ight.

Remember this is not all there is, and ever will be.

But of course, SI doesn't see that. It's important that they DON'T. That they are small, simple, and just on Jedi amongst many. Different only because ALL Jedi are different. Special only because much the same.

They succeed not because they are greater, not because they are more powerful, but because they do not fight. They accept. Turn instead towards the Force. Trying to understand. They live, are unpredictable, and do not seek at all. The Dark can not grasp, that which does not desire.

Would they LIKE to live? Yeah. But they already have. Would they LIKE to save everyone? Of course! But they have made peace that they can not. Treasure the moments they still have left. The Sith expect Jedi to act in certain patterns that SI simply... isn't.

Because Jedi expect to live. TRY to live. Too continue to do good.

SI? Already knows that is pointless.

And it's the greatest Trick the Force ever played.

Fffffffuck YOU Sith-y boy! Says the Force.

Because SI? Is EVERYWHERE on the 'Net. Much like the mainstream do not really acknowledge or take seriously youtubers? Palpatine and Dooku don't NOTICE SI. They are a silent threat that creeps in, closer and closer. Spreading like wildfire.

THEY are friendly. THEY are cute.

Palpatine? Is an old man. No matter HOW beloved? He will forever BE an old politician. Distant.

Not like that cute wittle kid with their pinchable cheeks! We watched THEM grow up! They feel like a baby cousin. A kid to us. Parasocial relationships ALL across the galaxy!

With A Jedi~☆

How's that propaganda going Palpatine? Getting some unexpected pushback, huh? Lot of angry callers and messages? Calling it ignorant and bigoted? They expected BETTER from you? Yeah, that's because EVERYONE can fact check you now. EVERYONE thinks "smol child ranting about meditation homework while a Knight tries and fails not to laugh, nodding seriously" when they think Jedi.

They're of Holotube! What sort of "cold, emotionally detached, monsters" have a holotube channel? I mean, REALLY?

And? Funny, how ranting to a camera? Instead of dear ol Friend Palpatine? Is both more convenient? AND better for Anikins health? It even gives the 'Net the chance to watch OTHER Jedi? Post THEIR rebuttal rants.

Does anyone have any idea what they're saying half the time? Not really. Scroll down? Maybe the no- Oh, Thanks Kalor-067 for the post to the papers they're referencing! Wikileaks right? Nice.

......I'm mean.... Skywalker DOES kinda have a point, other Jedi dude. *comment section agrees*

And just? Actual public debates? For the first time in over a thousand years? We love to see it! There's a discord! Academics across the Galaxy get involved. They're arguing Jedi philosophy with some moisture farmer from a dustball planet, corner of nowhere. It's GREAT!

......aaaaaalso a LOT more people, non-force sensitive, who know what a Sith is.

What their behavioral patterns are.

...........Wait A Fucking Second >.> >.> >.>

@legitimatesatanspawn @hdgnj @hypewinter @babbling-babull @leftnotright

[loves4ge]

jealousy, jealousy

gojo satoru x gn!reader

established relationship

gojo satoru is a menace.

"toru, stop glaring." your voice is low, a strained smile stretched out as you whisper through your teeth. your grip on his arm tightens towards the end of your sentence.

satoru, however, makes the decision to ignore you and opted to pat your hand on his arm lightly. as if he was acknowledging a comment you made on the weather or the little tea cakes the venue was serving rather than placating you while he glared at your coworker.

or ex-coworker, you think. maybe he'd die by satoru's hands tonight. you shudder to think of it; imagine all the blood.

"erm, it was a pleasure to meet you," your coworker says, features pulled tight in discomfort. you wanted to scream.

"shame. i wish i could say the same about you." silence.

your hold on his arm became suffocating. satoru didn't flinch.

your coworker, flustered, turned to you and murmured a goodbye. he spun on his heel and left.

"satoru, care to explain what just happened?" you release his arm, your own crossing over your chest. the glare he wore melts into a grin as one corner of his lips turns higher than the other. god, you hate when he grinned. you couldn't stay mad at him long when he did.

"jus' protecting my baby." he says it like it's an accomplishment. something he'd put on his resume (he would). maybe you should monitor his linkedin for a while. for the foreseeable future at least.

"satoru, not everyone who knows me is in love with me. please understand that." this is ridiculous.

"he might not be in love with you. maybe he just wants to hit." you raise your eyebrows at that.

"that is a truly appalling statement, baby. look, all you have to do is say hi to my coworkers, ask them about family or work or the weather. that's it. if they want to hit," you pause, feeling weird about saying it aloud, "they can either talk to me and i can turn them down or they can wallow in their feelings forever. either way, i don't care."

satoru's hands creep lower and lower down your back. he tries listening to your words but they blur in his mind. all he can think about is that guy. with his tattoos. and black hair. and fucking blue eyes. he knows that's your favourite feature of his. he might just have to kill every blue eyed person he comes across. god, geto's psychotic tendencies were rubbing off on him. if people could read minds, he'd be dragged off to an asylum.

and then the audacity he had to call you by your name. your first name. and so sweetly. it made him sick.

you had stopped talking when you realized he wasn't listening. you sigh, moving in closer into his space. his hands automatically place themselves at your lower back. then they slip further down. he squeezes, lightly. he takes note of your styled hair, and remembers when he hugged you earlier before entering the venue. you hair smelled nice. he'd have to ask you which shampoo you used today.

"hey?" his eyes snap to yours.

"yeah?"

"love you, satoru."

he grins.

"i know." your mouth forms a half pout and a half frown. you try to glare at him but you don't have a good pretend frown. you never could be mad at him for long, and it's harder to set your foot down when your anger's all worn off.

"say it back, bitch."

he kisses you instead. in the middle of event. the place wasn't exactly jam-packed and apparently this kiss was the most exciting thing the attendees were subjected to since the event started two hours ago. you could feel eyes on you. so many eyes.

you grab his collar, and kiss him back harder. his tongue swipes your lip. you try biting his. his smile presses against your mouth. cheeky. he pulls back, panting.

"i love you too."

[thesharktanksdriver]

The strongest star (platonic)

This is determination from Whitebeard’s point of view when y/n met him and his crew. I decided to make this to flesh out my first post and also thought it would be fun since y/n is kinda an unreliable narrator in their own way due to forgetting a lot of details and events.

Master-list for the series here

Tag list: @peachsuka28 @emptynessinmyworld @badluckinfrench @j-s-l-m @tigerfang-rage @madokamagicaa @rymtea @angstylittleb1tch @badluckinfrench @emmbny @kenkenmaaa @yunho-leeknow @chibiduck

for as long as Edward Newgate could remember, he wanted a family

As unconventional as it had seemed he had always dreamed of a family of his own

That was his dream that led him to the sea all those years ago

The freedom to pursue and accomplish this with the oceans cruel and caring waves

He’s old now, a man accomplished and still having his family grow

So when Marco brings a small child aboard Newgate can’t help but be a bit giddy

It’s been years since the Moby dick had such a young one aboard its old planks

He remembers like yesterday it once did

Children he found bruised and starved, cold and alone with eyes begging for warmth and comfort despite how scared they were

He was once like that, and he swore he’d not abandon those kids like others did for him

Those children grew up now to be some of his many kids

Years heavy on them as they are for him

He watched them grow from scared to proud and strong

And most of all he watched them grow to be happy with the family harboured on a couple planks of wood on the high sea

Each night rocked by the waves with full bellies and a smile on their faces

So it’s safe to say he is hopeful when Marco marches up, carrying a small child of about 10?

The youngest on the ship as of now was Ace and a few from the spade pirates that assimilated to his crew

But he hadn’t raised them, Moreso taken them in and not having the opportunity to truly nurture them in the way he had wanted

They were teens, a fraction of their lives already lived which meant he missed out on significant moments of it

He hadn’t been able to meet Ace’s brothers or be sure to in-still in him that he’s loved

Hadn’t been able to convince spade that he was more than what everyone in his home thought of him

As an old nostalgic man Newgate missed the feeling of being there for something important like that again

And he thought for a moment he could have that again until he noticed your eyes

He’s seen the terrified, angry and hopeless that looked up at him once before

Most of his sons whom he took under his wing had a variation of that when meeting him

But yours are….something else

He’s reminded of the night sky

A sight that he’s been more than familiar with his entire life as he looked to the stars and wished for people to call home

Despite just being eyes he sees more

Bleak empty darkness, swirling with the unknown with the distant twinkling flecks of stars

They are all encompassing and unassuming at the same time

Pits of dullness that shows the withered age that only a seasoned sailor could have amongst the cruel waves

A loss of innocence and all that a child should have

Yet at the same time somehow retains some of it despite it all

It’s conflicting and hypocritical all at the same time yet it’s there all the same

Those eyes stare up at him, no fear but instead apprehension fills its place

If nothing before could have convinced him that he wanted you apart of his family than this did

But he’s known from the moment you stepped foot on this ship he wanted you to have a home here either way

On the Moby dick you start off as a quiet presence that later grows into something bigger

Perhaps even bigger than yourself as the his sons and daughters seek out your company like moths to a flame

He can’t exactly blame them, not when he himself wants so desperately to grasp and hold that light

But he sees your apprehension when around him

The way in which you try to skirt around his presence as best as possible

Something you do exceedingly well

So Edward for your sake decides to take a seat back and watch what happens

Waits to see you ease up on your own time

God knows the amount of patience he has from dealing with Roger all those years ago and his rowdy kids

So he knows when to back down and let the stage set itself

Watch the act before his role is to come

And Edward does exactly that

He watches and waits

Eddie watches as you draw the crew in like a gravitational pull

It’s slow at first

Your cautious but you let your guard down

At first it’s with Marco

Being the one to take you onboard he decides that your his responsibility and take to it like the mother hen that he is

Seeing you inured stumbling out an alleyway really hit him hard

Perhaps harder than you had even noticed

It gets worse especially after you seem to brush off your injuries

He hovers around you a lot under the excuse of checking your wounds but you seem to know better

You always seem to know better

But either way you don’t say anything and simply grumble a bit about him

Moreso out of annoyance than actual disdain

But either or, Whitebeard watches as his first commander stays by your side

Eventually getting you to drop some of your barriers ever so slightly

Like the chipping in a wall that would lead to a crack

You talk and Marco listens

As do others who eventually join in on listening to some of your stories as you sit between the rails of the railing

Feet dangling through the gaps and swaying back and fourth as you tell stories

Everyone listens

Some even stop in their trail just trying to hear what you tell Marco as he similar sits beside you

Clawed feet of his half Phoenix form and firey blue wings tinged in gold crackling gently

The real breakdown comes when he offers to fly you around

Everyone can see something in you ignite at that

Genuine excitement only caused by child-like wonder

It’s one of the only times on your stay he had seen it

The child buried beneath whatever had happened to you peaking out from the brush

This was a good sign

One that Edward is glad to see himself as you soar with Marco

Blue flames giving you warmth even with the cold harsh winds

When you eventually land once more Edward can’t help but smile at the surpassingly content expression painting your face

That crack in your defence grows

The next to chip away at that metaphorical wall is Thatch

The cook quickly making his ways into your good graces when he has you help about in his kitchen

You seemingly can’t really stay still, mind always racing and wanting to do something

Never taking the time to relax

Thatch says you take to tasks quickly, finishing as quick as you started much to his surprise and exasperation

Whitebeard laughed at that at the time

So you were quick to pick up things

Knowing tasks like the back of your hand no matter how big or small

He’s also seen it, when you gave some of his sons tips in raising the sails or properly cleaning the deck quicker

Thatch won’t admit it to anyone but himself but Whitebeard knows he cooks more food for you than he’d usually would for someone on the ship

Even when Ace or Teach hound him for more food he angrily shoves them off

Then filling your plate once more

Thatch is the one who tells him of the time you cried eating his meals

Mumbling that it reminded you of her

Your mom

Apparently you don’t remember her anymore

Just the vaguest scent of her meals and a glimmer of a smile she would give when cooking

It….sticks with Eddy more than he’d like to admit

Forgetting was an unfortunate thing that came with time

Whitebeard considered himself lucky in not forgetting much over his years

He still remembers the loneliness of his childhood

The bloodshed and alienation on Rocks’s crew

Going off to make his family after the god valley incident

Recruiting his many sons

Finding some cold and alone while others sought him out as a father

Remembers when he first met the idiot he’d call a rival

How Oden would eventually become his little brother and hearing years later of his death by Kaido

The guilt still weighing on his shoulders even now

So in every sense of the word Eddy considers himself lucky in being able to remember

But you don’t have that same privilege

Your memory fraught with missing pieces

Leaving you trailing off for a moment as you regal a story that leaves everyone on deck listening intently

They all notice that you stare off quite often while doing something

Your mind wandering to whatever is it that your thinking of

Sometimes you even mumble to yourself

Though Eddy is never close enough to hear the mumbles others sometimes mention them to him

Names and places

Dates and times

Events and descriptions

But one thing brought up is something that raises his eyebrow

Things only the Roger pirates could’ve know or seen

He already suspected something when seeing the coat draped across your shoulders

You may think your slick in thinking he didn’t recognize that old thing but Eddie knows better

He’d known Roger far too long and arduously to not recognize his gaudy red coat (hypocrite a voice in the void cry’s out)

When his frien….rival was executed he had noticed the coat he wore was different

A darker red and cheaper material

But at the time he gave no thought to it

To wrapped up in a certain kind of grief to really think twice

But now that coat is on your shoulders

Pristine rose red contrasted with the cyan blue of your bandana and cloth sash

You couldn’t have known Roger, your too young to do so

Plus that idiot had two apprentices not three

So that option was x’d out the list

As him and his commanders talked

But you being a kid of one of his members was certainly a possibility

And the only one Edward could ever imagine Roger giving his coat to was Rayleigh and he had essentially dropped off the map years ago

So the conclusion that your maybe Rayleigh’s kid and that he was potentially dead was the conclusion drawn

It’s safe to say that it is something that weighs on not only his commanders mind but also Edwards

Because of the similar situation to Ace

The only other person you had tried to avoid on this crew for some reason

But maybe you somehow knew of his origin and that’s why? But even that seemed unlikely

Roger could keep his lips shut when the situation called for it

Something that he now praised his dead friend for

But on the topic of Ace…it was odd

You avoided Ace like the plague

Whitebeard understood why you avoided him, the giant who was named the strongest man in the world and feared in all blues

But Ace? He was practically a puppy vying for your attention after seeing you interact with literally everyone but him

He’d never thought he’d see his son who’d used to be like a snippy stray dog now practically begging for attention

But here he was

Well, more like they were since literally everyone else on ship it’s finding this all too hilarious

But also kinda sad

It’s not like they’d force you to get along with him if there had been a solid reason

But seemingly there was none

You just avoided him for whatever reason

Jittering in discomfort and leaving when you saw his signature orange hat

And they’d thought it would remain like this

But like all else Whitebeard sees things change

(Just as he saw the sea change when Roger died and ushered a new era)

The final piece to break down that barrier of yours is Ace

The one besides Whitebeard himself you had been the most barred against

It starts with a small conversation

And then on deck he sees both you and ace talk more

And more

And eventually Ace is placing you on his shoulders with his hat on your head

Or taking you out on striker as the smaller boat races around the Moby Dick

It’s a sight for sore eyes

Ace once again lighting up like a bright flame

The same happiness restrained for when talking of his brothers

Or of that person who had given him the small charm he covets as if it were the greatest treasure

Something he had been initially teased for until revealing its story

The small worn down little sun dangling from his wrist representing someone who he wanted to find once more

To thank for caring for him despite his bloodline

Because Ace saw himself as a blotch on the world rather than a blessing

It was something that Ace had hid well but as his father Edward could see the conflict in his eyes

He Tried his best to resolve it but it had yet to go away

But when Ace talks of the Brothers made over a sip of sake, a small sun charm and now seemingly you

It seems for a moment to melt away

Like the strongest of metal being smelted before hardening once more

So Edward watches in amusement as Ace lets you hang from his arm

Or how his son tries his best to seemingly impress your young eyes with tricks of blazing flames

Ace doesn’t seem to notice though that anything he seems to do leaves a proud look in your eyes

But Eddie does

Whitebeard can’t place as to why but he decides to leave it

Simply enjoying his new child and Ace bonding as if they had knew each other for years

The flame brazen boy igniting excitedly like a match as your smaller hands find his and dance to the drunken shanty music

Singing songs you seem to know and regard with an almost melancholy smile as Binks Booze begins to play

Only giving more evidence to your possible heritage

And then you eventually approach Eddie himself

The fearless Whitebeard, strongest man in the world

Golden yellow eyes staring back down towards yours that reflected a starry night

He asks you about your family in which you answer vaguely

Though he expect no less of an answer he notices that the way you explain it is practiced

And despite how practiced it is it leaves him dealing down worry

You’d been on your own for a decent amount of time now

Just seemingly drifting from how you described it

No one but yourself and the sea to keep you company

Only the clothes on your back and small mementos from travels to carry on with you

Whitebeard ponders who the “friends” you’d made along the way but you don’t say names often

Just nicknames

Sneaky but he’s raised enough rebellious boys to see past all the tricks

You change conversation but Edward allows it

Instead you ask him questions, something no one would usually dare to do when being questioned from him

He’d have to admit you have some guts for a kid

Typically he’d call people who did something like that a brat but he lets it slip this one time

And he answers your questions

If only to try and ease you into seeing that he is more than just the epithet of strongest man

That first and foremost he’s a father and perhaps he could be one to you

But instead you inquired about Roger

Another itch to prove your perhaps Rayleigh’s child

So Whitebeard answers truthfully talking about the man he once considered friend

To be honest Edward never really knew how to quite characterize his and Roger’s relationship

On one hand Roger was a man that Edward had respected deeply. Someone who was not only equal in power but also in kindness

God Roger was so stupidly nice to just about everyone as long as you didn’t somehow anger him

But On the other hand Roger was one of the stupidest men alive

Running head first into a battle with nothing prepared

Roger and him were both Friends and Rivals all at the same time

Along with being two sides of a coin

Men who loved more passionately than anyone else

Men who’d do anything to protect all that they loved even if it killed them

In some sense Whitebeard knows he should be happy in being the “victor” in their rivalry yet he’s not

Because they never did settle a score because there was no score to settle

And Eddie no matter how hard he’d try to deny it missed that goof

For as annoying as he was he was equally charming

Something that was infuriating

Because of course Eddie had to become friends with that man

Of course Roger had to go and get himself killed

And it’s Eddie who’s left to mourn

Eddie who’s left to watch the world change and grow old

Eddie is always the one left standing

And it’s there with that you ask him about mourning and how he deals with it

And Edward can’t help but give a pitied stare

A child should not know grief

A child should not know how to mourn

And yet you do

You always seemed to know something your not supposed to

A thing both equally dangerous to you as it is others

……geez you really must be Rayleigh’s kid

Whitebeard smiles, looking down to the coat hung heavy on your shoulders

For a moment he sees Roger there, smiling at him as usual

He tells you that even when someone is gone they leave bits of themselves in the world

Eyes subtly glancing towards a distracted Ace and Izou who listens nearby

Their presence still lingering in all those that they touched by literal and metaphorical

Because when someone leaves you they never really do

They change you

Mold you into the person you are and could become wether that be good or bad

Because Whitebeard despite knowing Oden and Roger are gone can still feel their presence on this ship

The splinters from when battling Roger as he was flung onto the Moby dick

The room in which Oden carved his name in the wood along with Toki’s within the shape of a heart

Sees glimmers of Roger shining through Ace and his firey temper along with his compassion

Watches Izou mumble under his breath about how Oden would have loved to have been on this adventure

Those 3 sake cups still sit in Edwards office

Below a collection of objects and photos of all his lost children

He still mourns them

As any father would

Still wonders if they would forgive him for falling them

But when he does so he remembers their still there

Their fingerprints engraved on a old grizzled heart

At hearing this you nod, pulling that old coat on your shoulders closer

As if someone was hugging you through its luxurious red cloth

His words have seemed to have comforted you and he’s glad

Perhaps even lifting some of the grief off your chest

If so Edward is happy

Because a child should know no grief

And he’d like to change that

Would like to remold your melancholy little heart back to what it should be

That of a happy child

He and his children itch to ask you to stay

But even when Marco offers you a room here

Or when Ace just straight up asks you to stay

You always reply the same way

That like the sea herself you are untethered

Maybe one day you’d find a place but for now you must keep drifting

You have people to meet

Friends you call family to see once more

Everyone here wishes for you to stay

Some ask their father to perhaps to pull the same thing they had pulled with Ace

But Whitebeard doesn’t relent on wanting you to join by your choice

Even when he feels his will want to crack when one night after talking with you under the starry night you fell asleep in his palm

Curled up and small as he feels small tears drip down and pool beside you

Or when it wants to crack even more when he catches you one night in the crows nest singing

The almost haunting sound echoing and reverberating across the ship

The Moby herself sitting at your side, her Klabautermann joining you in song

Or the almost final blow when he realizes that you breath new life in the ship without even knowing it

It’s unseen by your eyes but Whitebeard knows his sons and his ship enough to know when it’s more lively than usual

How your words capture them

He’s watched as you sat atop a barrel telling tales and seeing everyone huddle around you like ducks

Pausing in their duties or even sitting down to ask questions or for you to elaborate more

Grown men and women enraptured by stories of the sea and all its beauty

Even he himself couldn’t help but find himself entranced by your words

The way in which you tell them all are too detailed as to not be true

But Whitebeard does not relent

Does not stop in his judgement no matter how hard it will be to let you go back on that dinky little ship you called your own

It’s sail made of spare sheets with sewn in patches giving it splatters of colour

But when that happens Whitebeard promises to throw you a grand goodbye

Promises that when you do come back they’d have a room ready

That Thatch would make food that reminded you of a once lost home again

That Marco would tend to your wounds and let you scrape the sky

And that Ace would light up with a flame of a stars intensity

But they never were able to throw that goodbye party

That party would be the next one after the one that was meant to just enjoy being with you once more without having to say goodbye

But then you decided you’d help Thatch after seeing he could barely walk in a straight line, so you paused the celebrations for yourself and went to that kitchen celler

Going to place that damned devil fruit to be locked away

But then minutes ticked by

And so Ace decides he’d go find you, saying he’d have to convince you to tell Eddie of your story about the island in the clouds

The joyful atmosphere continues

And then comes Ace’s horrified scream for Marco

Cutting through the atmosphere as the usually chipper boy runs out the kitchen with you in his arms

Bloodied little you

You sit there in Ace’s arms

Bleeding heavily from a large slashing stab that has your blood practically gushing out and into the ground along with Ace’s arms

Despite that though

Despite the pain you should be in Edward spots an oddly content look on your face

Eyes looking up towards Ace but instead of tears filling them it’s a bittersweet look

The look of I’m sorry

Ace and you sit in Edward’s palm

Your small form cradled by his sobbing son who pleads for you

Blood still fresh on his hands and now smeared across Edward’s as well

A child should never die

Let alone in someone’s arms

For they shall carry that weight of them in their arms forever

So he tells ace to lay you down in his Palm

And Ace can only do so reluctantly

Ace turns to run to Marco who’s dashing across the ship but you stop him grabbing his hand

Making his son pause

You smile despite it all, a bright and beautiful smile that rivals the sun and all stars in the sky

Then looking to his charm as you pull out a similar one nestled in that coat pocket of yours

“You found me” it comes out as a pained rasp that makes Whitebeard’s heart ache

It aches more seeing Ace’s expression

Pure grief

Just utter pure grief

Ace clutches you

Begs you not to leave

To please not leave him after finding you

To tell him who did this to you

Your eyes squint as if trying to remember, but then light up with recognition

You give a small laugh, one that makes Whitebeard go still as does Ace

“Zehahaha”

Teach….thats why he wasn’t on deck

As that happens pieces of you shatter

A bright shining gold flashing in the night sky

Sparks of starlight and stardust congregating in the air

Scattering somewhere into the sky

In a fevered state you utter a last word to Ace

Sunshine

When your gone everyone is in a stunned silence

Because what just happened

But then Whitebeard thinks

He thinks all the way back to Roger

The last time he saw Roger the bastard had gotten suddenly silent asking Eddie if he knew of a song, a myth

A star that once dead formed back once more in a new part of the sky

A song was made about it once, something from the Rumbar pirates that had long died among the waves

But then he thinks back further

Back to those 3 days and nights they had fought on that abandoned island

And then he remembers

As Roger sent him flying with a punch Eddie skidded by the Oro Jackson

And for the briefest of moments he thought he spotted something shining in the darkness of a cracked open door

More rather the peering shining eyes of someone

At the time he tried to question Roger but he was as unmoving as a stubborn horse so Eddie had left the topic

He had forgotten of that experience years later

But now it comes rushing back

As does that myth of a undying star

It seems Roger was hinting at something all along

Sly bastard

Seems you weren’t Rayleigh’s kid after all

Maybe you were more Roger’s kid than anything

But….Eddie had taken in one of Roger’s brats before

His sobbing son is evidence of that

And perhaps he will do so again

“Hmf….sly bastard. Their out there, we’ll find them again” his words are spoken with conviction as a sobbing ace looks up to him, his golden eyes soften at his sons expression “their still alive Ace, just displaced when they die. Roger rambled to me a myth about it the last time we met. A star that never died and reappeared in the sky, I thought it was nonsense but maybe he was right”

“But how-“

“Think my boy. How could they be the one who had cared for you all those years ago when they’re that young? My best guess is a devil fruit” he sees the emotions swirl in Ace’s eyes as his sons nods shakily. Hands clutching the sun charm of his bracelet and scared to let go. Edward’s eyes travel from his son to his other children, the gold that was once softened now hardening once more as anger replaced it. Teach….a son now a traitor had to be delt with.

[paperclip-skz]

Not Drinking For a Fun Time

fem*Reader x Bang Chan

*WARNING*

contains: p n v, sex, unprotected sex, kissing, TENSION, straight up delulu, grinding, oral (fem receiving), I'm sure I missed something; let me know in the comments.

WC: 8.7k

a/n: not gonna lie, I'm super nervous because this is my first ever "long fic" that I'm posting and I'm not sure how ya'll will react. This started out as a fluff story and we only meant to be a couple hundred words or so...and then it escalated. Also, my requests are open so if you have an idea and want me to play it out please do not be afraid to send me an ask, I'll pretty much anything fluff, scenario....the dirtier the better hehe

Synopsis: “I’m not a performer, and I’m not a singer. I can’t entertain people. What makes you think I can lie to them?” … this was the goal. Lie to the public about a relationship between you and Chris, but there was no relationship

***** 

You're at the bar. Sulking. Wishing you were at home but longing for another drink. Your day couldn’t be worse, from the emotional rollercoaster you’ve been on to all the little things that ticked you off in the worst ways. 

The bartender rests another glass in front of you, the cold liquid reflecting the bar's dim light. “On the house,” he gestures to the drink. You nod your head in thanks and lazily grab the drink. You’ve already had enough to make your mind foggy, but not foggy enough. The events of today keep replaying in your head. 

“You’ll need to cooperate with us, Ms.L/N.” The shock is evident in not only your face but your tone as well. 

“Cooperate? You're asking me to be someone that I’m not.” Your chest heaves with anger, and your mind runs miles with adrenaline. 

“Y/N, please,” Chris coos. You whip your head around to meet the leader's and the group's defeated eyes. They have their heads hung low, still trying to process the information given in the meeting. 

“I’m not a performer, and I’m not a singer. I can’t entertain people. What makes you think I can lie to them?” … this was the goal. Lie to the public about a relationship between you and Chris, but there was no relationship. In fact, you didn’t know any of the members from Stray Kids. 

You didn’t know any of them until you started working in the same building as them. You’d pass them by in the halls, nodding in acknowledgment. One day, you were just off, stressed from all the work and frustrated that nothing was working. 

Chris noticed and asked if you were okay, being the amazing person he is. His comfort eased your stress, but anyone from afar could have mistaken his comfort for something else. The next thing you knew, pictures of you and Chris were plastered on every face of social media. Hell, you were even on the news.

Everyone was terrified that the public would react negatively and you wouldn’t be allowed to step a foot out of your own house, but it was the opposite. People swooned over your fake relationship and the idea that Chris had found someone that made him happy, but none of that was true. 

The sting of the liquid slides down your throat, and the bitter aftertaste makes your face scrunch. However, the foggy effects of the drink quickly fade your feelings. You notice a few snickers behind you, a pair of girls whispering and staring holes into the back of your head. You ignore them as much as possible while taking another small sip of your drink. 

Am I being overdramatic? Should I just go with what they are saying? People already think so, anyway. Thoughts cloud your mind, and you're entirely oblivious to the man who sneakily slides into the stool next to you. You turn your eyes to him and notice the ball cap that covers his face and the oversized black hoodie that hugs his body casually. 

He lifts his head to meet your eyes, and you're welcomed with soft brown eyes. You sigh…and groan simultaneously, taking another sip of your drink. “I’m not drinking for a fun time, Mr. Bahng.” 

“Then I’m not either.” he raises his finger, indicating a bottle. The bartender quickly sets a bottle of Soju on the counter along with a shot glass. 

You both sit there in silence as Chris pours a single shot. He swings his head back, taking the shot with ease. 

“What are you doing here Bahng?” your voice mimics defeat. 

“Drinking,” his voice is anything but defeat or sympathy. In fact, it almost sounds… optimistic. Your blood boils. How is he not angry, confused, or at least unhappy with the situation? You look at him with disgust.

You scoff under your breath, paying attention back to your glass, “I can’t believe you.”

“Can’t believe what?” he questions.

“I can’t believe you have no reaction. I can’t believe you're not angry. They are asking for us to be in a fake relationship, and you're not the least bit affected,” you whisper, careful not to let anyone hear. 

“I am angry, but not in the way you think” he turned his body to you. “I’m angry that you're in this situation. You didn’t ask for this, but here we are.” 

“I don’t think I can do this.” You lean forward, caging your head in your hands. Tears are threatening to spill. I can’t lie to the world when I don’t even want this. I don’t want to lie. I want to be able to date and have fun, not be caged to some contract just because someone mistook comfort for something else. I can’t have people watch my every move, just waiting for me to make the simplest mistake. 

“Not by yourself, you can’t,” his words lift your head slowly, and your body hangs low in front of you. 

“I don’t even know you.”

“That will come with time. Look, I won’t force you into this; no one will. But you need to know that things have already escalated, and if we don’t do something soon, they will continue to escalate. Yes, this is a solution, a messy one, but a solution.” The earnestness in his eyes makes your heart warm and the tears swell. “And you need to know, you're not doing this alone. I might be a stranger, but I’m here, and the guys say I’m a pretty good listener.” his last comment makes you chuckle as a single tear escapes you, rolling down your cheek. Chris instinctively reaches his hand to catch the tear on your cheek; his thumb delicately wipes the salty liquid off your cheek. The touch is simple but sweet, and you hate the way his touch electrifies your whole body. Your eyes meet, gentle brown eyes and a deep dimple smile. 

Your heart fills with an unfamiliar warmth, but it's welcomed….slightly. Maybe this won’t be as bad as you might think. 

They did offer money, and there's a contract, so does the risk really outweigh the means? Your mind is fighting to keep up with what's morally right and what you want. What do you want? 

You do the one thing you’ve always done: count to three in your head, breathe a long, deep breath, and say the first thing that comes to mind. “Okay.” You stare into Chris’s eyes, pleading for him to understand your hesitance. “I’ll do it.” 

Chris breathes out a sigh of relief, and you can physically see his body relax on the stool. He takes out his hand, waiting for you to shake it. He gives you a look and raises his eyebrows. It makes you laugh, but regardless, you shake his hand. “Thank you, Y/N.” 

“No problem, Mr.Bahng,” you spin in your chair and back to your drink.

“Please, call me Chris,” he nudges your shoulder playfully. 

What could possibly go wrong? 

*******

3 weeks go by after you agreed to be in this fake relationship. A contract was signed, and rules were in place, but that didn’t stop your nerves from crawling all over your body. 

“Okay, run this by me one more time so that I understand completely.” 

Stray Kids' head of marketing sits comfortably at the end of the table, scanning you and Chris. 

You and Chris, it's hard to think about. Since you’ve both agreed to this, you’ve gotten closer and become close friends. It’s hard to imagine that you barely even knew each other weeks ago, but now, he’s your closest friend, closer than anyone else. 

“The press and fans love your relationship; it's actually boosting ratings. Ever since we announced your ‘relationship,’” she air quotes the word, “your fans have been more active.”

You don’t know how to feel; you're glad that the band is getting more attention, but you're also a little nervous. I mean, how long is this little ruse supposed to go on for? “Why do I feel like there is a ‘but’ coming?” 

“But, your fans are asking more and more questions. When did you meet? Are you two living together? How involved are you?” She directs each question to you as if you know all the answers. 

“So what can we do to ease the questions? Surely, no one can expect us to keep this up forever.” You’re thankful Chris can read your mind. 

The marketing head and everyone else in the room hold their breaths. The silence makes your heart thump and sink, “you are, aren't you?” The laugh that escapes you is humorless and breathy. “You are expecting us to keep this up, at least for as long as we can, until someone starts raising eyes, but even then, you’ll probably come up with some way to puppet us out of it.” 

Chris looks from you to the marketing head, waiting for someone to answer your accusation. “Well, is that true?” You’re both met with more silence, answering both of your questions. He scoffs next to you, joining you in your humorless acts.  “Well, what's your solution then?” 

There has to be a catch to all of this. “We suggest that you both…” she pauses, eyes screaming with concern, “start saying that you live together.” 

“Just start saying this publicly? That's all?” You wait for the answer to Chris’s question, but when their marketing professional meets your eye with a weary look, you already know it.

“No, they want us to live together and show it off,” you answer Chris before the head of marketing can speak. 

Chris is fuming beside you; this wasn’t a part of the deal, “But the contract-” 

“The contract states that both of you will keep up this act under any means necessary.” she pauses for a moment, “if the public sees that you are both happy and moving forward, there’s a very good possibility that they’ll be content and move onto another form of gossip. We need to show them that you're both just moving forward like a normal couple.” She tries to make sense of it, even though as you replay her words in your mind, they seem crazier and crazier. You and Chris share the same look of disapproval, but if they were right about this fake relationship, why wouldn’t they be right about anything else? “We just need to keep this act up until something better comes along,” she continues, directing her last comment directly at you, “I promise this will all be over soon. No idol can escape drama of some kind.”

You hang on desperately to her last words, which brings you here and now, moving the last box of your stuff into a small apartment the company paid for. At least you're not spending any real money on all this. You set your box down on the kitchen counter, clapping your hands. “Finally,” you breathe. 

You walk around the kitchen counter and into the living room. There's a large couch in the middle and two hallways on either side of the living room. One leads to Chris’s room and the other to yours. It's a small apartment, but it works for your situation. Chris had already moved his stuff into his room; you haven’t seen much of him. 

You saunter down the hall to your bedroom and collapse onto your bed. Suddenly, your phone starts to ring. You answer without looking at the caller ID, “Hi honey, how are you?”.

“Hey Ama, I’m good, how is Appa?” the smile reaches your ears as you talk endlessly with your mother. The second this whole thing started, the first thing you did was call your mother. Hearing her encouraging words made the whole ordeal a little less nerve-racking. You couldn’t lie to your mother, the rest of the world…maybe, but not her. 

After an hour, you hang up the phone with your mom, bidding her a goodnight. “Jesus, it's late.” You look out into the cold night sky, guessing you kind of lost track of time. 

You get up from your spot on your bed and hurriedly get dressed into your sleepwear until your stomach pains with the feeling of being empty. Hunger overwhelms you as you make your way out to the kitchen quietly. You're wearing an oversized sweater and shorts, with your hair up in a messy bun as you enter the kitchen to find Chris eating cereal. “Don’t tell me that’s your dinner.” 

“Hey! I will let you know that this is a perfectly normal late-night snack,” Chris says between mouthfuls. He’s wearing a black tank top, showing off his defined arms and grey sweatpants. It's so casual, but why does it make him look so hot? 

It makes you chuckle and shake your head, and you slowly make your way to the middle of the kitchen. 

The one word to describe the air in the room right now is awkward. What do you do? Do you act like he’s not there and just go about making food? Do you take a snack into your room and leave him be? Maybe he's hungry, but is asking to make him some food too much? 

Chris sees the gears turning in your head, “do you want something to eat?” He asks.

“Oh, Um. Yeah, but I’m not sure what to make just yet.” You fiddle with your sleeve.

“There's ramen in the cabinets and cereal in the other one. I’m not sure what's in the fridge, but I’m sure there's some fruit if you’d like.” You nod your head, thinking of what you're craving. “But we can always order something if you're craving something specific?” 

He’s so kind. It's the same kindness he showed that fateful day when someone mistook that kindness for something more intimate. You smile at the thought. “Fruit sounds good.” You walk over to the fridge and scan its contents. You settle on some strawberries, take the plastic box, and run it through the sink. You don’t know how hungry you really are, so instead of wasting a plate and taking it to your room, you settle on just plucking each strawberry out of the plastic container. 

*Chris* 

Chris watches as you wrap your plump lips around each strawberry; his mind spins with different ideas. He thinks of your lips wrapping around his finger, your tongue twirling around his digit. He thinks of his cock springing free and your hand pumping him to full length while your mouth hangs low in anticipation. He leans forward, guiding himself across your waiting tongue…

“So why are you up so late?” Your comment snaps him out of his fantasies. He tries to shuffle in his spot, making it seem casual when, in reality, his sweats have become uncomfortably tight. 

“I had some work I needed to finish, and then I got hungry.” he gestures to the now empty bowl, “How about you?” 

“I was on a call with my mom, lost track of time, and then got hungry.” You gesture to the strawberry in your hand and slowly wrap your lips around it. Chris looks down, trying not to stare, but then he swallows a groan when he sneaks a glimpse of your bare legs. Shorts. She’s just wearing shorts. Get a hold of yourself. 

Chris needs to think of something to divert the conversation. It's too awkward right now, and it's not helping when all he can think about is ripping your shorts off. 

“Ho-”

‘Yo-”

You both speak at the same time. Clearly, you are both trying to make the whole thing a little more comfortable. Both of you chuckle at the realization. 

“I really hope we can make this whole thing a little less awkward,” Chris says as you start packing the rest of the strawberries and putting the stems in the nearby trash can. 

“Me too,” you sigh.

“We’re friends! The only show we have to put on is for the camera”

******

This was a shit idea. He can’t eat, he can’t sleep, he can’t function without a single thought leading back to you. And this “ruse” is going on for way too long. 

It's been 3 months. 3 whole months! 

But Chris couldn’t lie—it's been the best three months. You’ve both gotten so comfortable with each other that you’ve dedicated Fridays to movie night. Chris will sometimes bring your coffee order to you just because he knows you’d appreciate it, even if he doesn’t drink coffee himself. 

You’ve gotten to know each other so well and laughed so hard together that it just feels natural. 

He can’t help it. Even before this whole thing happened, he’d always watched you from afar, admired how hard you worked and how beautiful you were. But it was always that—a distant crush. 

Until this whole ordeal just planted itself right in his lap. He had to get close to you and take a chance with you. He didn’t care if it was fake. It was a chance. 

But tonight, he was cursing at himself for ever agreeing to this deal in the first place. 

It had been three months, so the public was starting to ask questions about when they were going to see you at an event…together. So, the marketing team decided that a red carpet-event was the perfect time to show you off to the public. 

Just a few pictures, maybe some conversations, but that's it. Then we’ll both be home, and we can just watch a movie. At least, that's what he thought. 

You both got ready separately because Chris had an interview an hour before the event. He was waiting by the front for your car to pull forward, and that's when you stepped out. 

His eyes widened, and his breath literally caught in his throat. Your dress was long and elegant, with one strap hanging loosely on your shoulder while the other was bare. It hugged your hips tightly to accentuate your best features. The slit was high, a little higher than you’d prefer, but it matched the theme of the dark red dress. The back of the dress was bare and reached down just before the curve of your ass. 

Chris took a long, low breath, trying to control the fighting urge inside him. He was staring at the way the dress flowed with every step you took; it was like you were walking on water with how graceful each heel clicked. 

“What?” 

He took his eyes off your legs and up to your doe eyes, which were smoky. It makes your eyes bright and glow. 

“N-nothing. I-” It was hard for him to form words. He knew you were beautiful; he thought about it every day, but he never saw you like this. He always saw you in either comfy clothes or your work clothes, never this. “You look beautiful.” 

He could see the natural blush from underneath your makeup, and he melted at the sight of your smile. 

“Shall we?” Chris held out his arm.

“We shall.” You took his arm, and he walked you inside the event. 

Easy peasy.

***

There were endless flashes and pictures, and reporters were screaming from one side to the other. You and Chris were being pulled from one background to another, everyone begging to get a picture of the happy couple. If only they knew. 

Chris was holding the middle of your back, smiling widely at each camera. Your body shivered from his touch. Surely he could feel the goosebumps across your skin. If he did, he didn’t let you know. His previous comment lingered in your mind, and it made your body warm with affection. 

He’s wearing a tailored black suit with just the jacket. It was styled so that he didn’t need a shirt to complement the jacket. It was high enough to cover everything but low enough to show his muscular chest. He stole your breath away—there's no better way to put it. 

His hold on you could be seen as endearing to the public eye, but you knew his tight hold felt different. It felt possessive. As he guided you from one area to another, his touch became more apparent to you. You could map out the roughness of the pads of his fingers, the feeling of the cold metal from his accessories, and how his palm rested fully on your skin. 

It sent tingles through your body, tingles you haven't felt in a while. 

At one point, he guided you to another photographer. Your smile falters, the exhaustion getting to you. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Chris turn his head to look at you, studying you. You couldn’t see if he was smiling. All you could tell was that he was looking at you. The photographers must be eating this up. 

You focused on trying to keep your smile up until you felt the tip of Chris's finger tilt your chin in his direction. Your eyes meet, and your smile immediately fades. Thinking you did something wrong, you search his eyes, but all you see is warmth. Your worry fades, your lips part, and your mind goes blank. The noise of the photographer fades, the tightness of the dress disappears, and every little thing is gone, the only thing you can hear, see, and breathe is Chris. 

His eyes wander from you to your lips and back to your eyes, secretly asking for permission. It's for the camera. You tilt in your head, begging for him to lean in. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips as Chris slowly leans in to graze his lips across yours. He presses a little hard to envelop your lips. His tongue slips across your bottom lip, and his hand on your back itches to touch you more. 

Loud cheers ultimately break up your little moment, and Chris quickly separates his lips from yours. The party mask slips back into action when his dimple smile appears and flashes towards the camera. 

A few more pictures and smiles and Chris quietly guides you out of the red carpet area—the feeling of his soft lips on your own leaves a tattooed memory in your brain. Finally, you and Chris are inside the elegant building. Art decorates each wall, and people mingle around, admiring the work of the artist, sharing conversations, and enjoying the drinks floating around by the staff. 

“I’m sorry if I overstepped. I thought maybe it would be a good idea for the camera.” Chris is quick to answer any accusation that you didn’t have prepared. 

“Oh, yeah, you're right. It was a good move.” You try to seem calm and cool about what just happened. I mean, you are cool with what he did; you just wish it lasted longer. “For the camera.” 

“For the camera” the last few words come out breathy and soft by the both of you, not sure if either of you truly means it. 

“Chris!” shouts of his name come from afar, and you recognize the familiar faces. “Guys!” Chris gives his members a big hug, leaving you to follow close behind. You remember the ones who are here: Hyunjin, Minho, and Felix, all gather to greet Chris. 

You leave them to get caught up, knowing they’ve missed seeing each other. A waiter comes by, offering you a drink, and you take it with grace. You know there will be a driver taking you home tonight, so why not have a few drinks? You wander around, enjoying the sight of the beautiful art. 

Colors and interesting figures decorate each canvas. You read each name and study the painting, wanting to understand exactly what the artist was feeling when creating each masterpiece. 

You stop at a particular painting of a woman. She's surrounded by different shades of black and white, her body covered by just a sheet of cloth. Her bare shoulder and the side of her face are turned away from the view of the audience, seeming like she is trying to hide her naked figure. The cloth in question is splattered with all different shades of red. You examine the title of the piece, “Hidden Lust.”

“Interesting painting?” A voice startles you from behind. Chris stands behind you, examining the painting with you. 

You smile, returning to the painting. “How are the boys?”

“They’re good; they asked about you.” A smirk plays on his lips as he studies the painting alongside you. 

You hum and examine the brittle strokes of the painting. You both stand there in silence, admiring each delicate brush of paint. 

Once you hear Chris's steady breathing, all concentration on the painting goes out the window. You can practically feel it on your skin, sending tingles straight to your core. You and Chris stand a mere few inches apart, your hands twitching to touch. 

All thoughts of how the artist could be portrayed in the painting have left your mind; the only thing that haunts your mind is the feeling of Chris’s lips on yours. The fainted memory still makes your skin tingle and your core pound with need. Suddenly the breath you have been holding releases with a long sigh, and you can see Chris suck in a breath. 

Slowly, your head turns in his direction, and Chris does the same. You both hold eye contact for what feels like forever, silently sending each other hidden messages. The air between you is so thick it becomes hard to breathe. Your eyes dart down onto his lips, retaining the memory once again, imagining what his lips would feel like if they were placed on other parts of your body. 

“There’s the lucky couple!” your moment is broken once again, and Chris is left to greet more flooding guests. Once again, you're left to wander the walls…alone. 

***

Where did she go? He’s been roaming around this building for what feels like hours. If he wasn’t stopped every five minutes, maybe he could find you. 

It's not until he sees the dark, silky color of your dress he finally releases the breath he’s been holding. 

You're walking away from a painting and venturing off into another room filled with more art. He couldn't care less about the pieces hanging on the walls. He keeps thinking about that kiss. 

It was meant to be quick, and he meant to slide his thumb right between the two of you so that your lips wouldn’t touch. But the moment was too quick, and the camera was too bright, and before he knew it, your lips were touching. It was like kissing a flower petal, light and soft, and he craved more. He wanted to kiss you so that you would kiss back with the same passion he felt inside, but he couldn’t do that now, not when everyone was watching. He would take what he could get, even if it was just a small, simple kiss. 

Leaving the cameras, he could see the confusion on your face, and worry settled in the pit of his stomach. He shouldn’t have done that, not without asking you first, not with cameras taking pictures of your every move, not when the whole world was watching. That's why he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. 

I’m such an idiot, he thought to himself. 

Calm and frantic battle in his body with each step he takes to you. This room is filled with sculptures on every corner, and smaller paintings hang. The last few people leave the room so that it's just you and Chris. He sees you studying a sculpture of two people holding each other in an embrace. The two mold together with a shared kiss, and what looks to be water made of stone surrounds them. It's quite beautiful, but the person looking at the art piece is even more stunning. His mind screams with the need to feel your lips on his once again, but he forces himself to stand next to you in silence, pretending as if he cares about the art piece in front of him. 

“I’m sorry I keep getting pulled away.” He whispers as he slides next to you. 

“No need to apologize; you're famous, and people want to meet you.” He can tell you’re holding something back. He’s only known you for a few months, but it feels like years to him. 

“Still, I came here with you. I should be at least spending some time with you,” he can’t help but look at you, at the way your features react to his words, the way your chest rises and falls as you breathe, and the way your nails pick at each other. You're holding something back, and it's killing him inside. “Did I-... Did I make you uncomfortable… with that kiss?”

His question physically takes you aback. He's trying to read you, trying to predict what you’ll say next. Everything runs through his mind: you slapping him, you yelling at him, you kissing him-

“No, of course not.” Chris breathes out a sigh. “It's just-” your eyes wander, and his body stiffens…again. “I-” you attempt to say something, “...nothing,” but your mouth shuts, and your attention is back on the sculpture. 

Knowing he didn’t make you uncomfortable eases him, but not knowing what's on your mind makes his mind wander. If he didn’t make you uncomfortable, what could possibly be going on in that pretty head of yours?

“Y/N” Chris grabs hold of your arms to turn you to face him. “Please, tell me what's on your mind, or else I might lose mine.”

You suck in a breath and open your mouth to say something. “I just…” your eyes wander once again, but Chris quickly takes his other hand to caress his thumb over your jaw, bringing your attention back onto him. “I just really want-”

“Bahng! There you are!” a tall man with spikey black hair holds his arms out. His suit blinds the both of you as his sequined suit sparkles in the light.

“Oh my god, I’m going to end up in jail tonight if we don’t get out of here soon.” his comment makes you laugh, and his body melts at the sound. 

I can’t wait till I finally get you alone. 

*****

Hours later, you are finally home, out of that tight dress, and your hair is free. You're relaxing on the couch, watching as the rain carelessly falls out the window. You thought a nice cup of tea would help the cloud of thoughts in your mind, and then you thought the rain would help, but so far, nothing has helped. 

The way Chris spoke earlier replays in your mind like a constant dream. The way he touched you, the way his eyes bored into your soul. You were so close to confessing that you wanted more than just a simple kiss; he made you want more of him. 

Now you're here, dreading if he walks out here and the awkwardness is back up. You both worked so hard to become comfortable with each other, and you don’t want that awkward tension to fill the room again. 

You hear the door creak open, signaling that Chris is out of the shower. He comes out in a pair of sweats and a loose shirt, rubbing a towel over his drenched hair. 

“You’re still up,” he says surprised. 

“Yeah, can’t sleep. Must be leftover adrenaline from tonight.” that's a lie. It's because stupid Chris won't stay out of your stupid mind. 

He nods his head, and you go back to staring blankly out the window. Thick silence, so thick it could be cut with a knife. You could feel the nerve on the end of your skin, and you pray that Chris doesn’t notice. 

“Back at the gala, you were about to say something.” 

You whip your head around, seeming dumbfounded. “Oh, I-” How do I get out of this? “I don’t remember” 

He slumps, looking defeated. “Oh, I see.” The pout on his lips makes your insides turn and ache. What did he want to hear?

“Do you…want to watch a movie?” his innocent question makes you smile. “Sure, I'd like that.” 

***

This was pointless. It's not like you’re actually paying attention to the movie. Your mind is clouded with doubts and thoughts, and Chris just sits there, enjoying the mindless action movie you guys agreed on. 

He’s so focused on what's playing on the screen. His lips are slightly parted, his eyes glow with every loud explosion, and his brows furrow every time a character takes a hit. It’s fun to study him, it's more entertaining than this damn movie….I wonder if all he’s thinking is about the movie.

***

Why the fuck does she keep looking at me? Do I have something on my face? Maybe she can see right through me and tell that I’ve been thinking about her? Can girls do that?

It is taking every bit of will he has left in his body for Chris to keep looking at this damn movie. He stopped paying attention halfway through it because he got a glimpse of your bare thigh. You're wearing shorts again, and it might actually kill him this time. God, he wants to touch you so badly. He wants to rake his hands through your thighs. He wants you to pull his hair and guide him over your body. He wants you to show him what makes you scream, and then he wants to make you scream his name-

“Do you know what's going on? Because I think I’m lost.” 

Chris snaps his head in your direction…shit.

“Uhh…well…you see the guy he… yea, I haven’t really been paying that much attention,” he breathes out a sigh of defeat. 

“Really! You looked like you were really paying attention.” if only you knew. “I guess I just kind of zoned out,” he scratches the back of his head, suddenly feeling embarrassed. 

“What were you thinking about?” your voice sounds so hopeful, but he can’t stop thinking about you running out of the apartment the second he confesses. 

“Oh…nothing” 

“Oh,” you went from hopeful to disappointment with a single word, and it made his chest ache. You both sit in silence for a beat too long, watching the movie unfold before you. 

He can’t bear the silence. It feels like that first week all over again, and it's killing him inside. “Looks like the storm is passing pretty quickly.”

Your head snaps to him with a quirked eyebrow. You stare at his unphased face for what feels like an eternity…then…The room fills with your laughter. “You want to talk about the weather?”

“Uhh”

More sounds of laughter crowd the room. “What?” he's in utter shock. What could possibly be so funny right now?

“Nothing. Yes, it does look like it's dying down,” but it’s laced with sarcasm; anyone can hear it, Chris, most of all. 

His hooded eyes look down at you with a ‘serious’ look. “What?” Your hands are thrown up in surrender. 

“Nothing,” he matches with the same tone.

He’s met with your giggles. The light shift of the mood makes his smile wide, and finally, he’s at ease. Finally, you smile again, and the awkward tension dissipates. 

Your body stretches in a long yawn, and in doing so, it inches closer to Chris. Over time, your head falls onto Chris’s shoulder, relaxing into his warmth. 

Chris’s body is on fire. Every nerve and sense is hyper-aware of your every move; it's like he can feel you without the barrier of his clothes. 

His eyes look down, watching you rest in his comfort. He feels like a teenager again, experiencing his first crush. He can feel butterflies in his stomach, and his palms begin to sweat. No one has ever made him feel this nervous.

Your shirt dips down just below the swell of your breasts, and he curses at himself for even looking. He hates the fact that your body has so much control over him, but he loves it at the same time. He thinks about all the ways your body could torture him. Your body wrapped in fragile lingerie that he could rip with his teeth, your naked body underneath him, fully exposed for him-

“Oh my god.” 

You’re both startled apart from each other. Chris only takes a minute to follow your shocked eyes down to the prominent tent forming at his pants. 

Shit.

“I- um,” Chris scrambles to find a pillow or blanket to cover his bulge. How could this happen now of all times? He expects to hear your screams, your words of disgust, or something that results in him leaving the apartment with his head hung low in shame. But more laughter echoes around the room, and he sees you turned over, holding your belly with giggles.  

“I would apologize, but it looks like you're enjoying my embarrassment.” 

“It's not that,” your voice cracks with laughs. “I just was surprised. I know you can’t control it.” more laughter fills the room. If only you weren’t laughing at his embarrassment, he would actually enjoy hearing your giggles. 

“I have more control than that,” Chris scoffs. 

“Then what is it?” You look at him, your smile still shining, while his fades. This is his chance; it's now or never. You could either lock yourself in your room, and he could never see you again, or he could be the happiest man alive. 

He takes a deep breath. “I was thinking about…our kiss”. 

***

You wish you could say you had an immediate reaction, that you jumped into his arms the second he mentioned you, but you were dumbstruck. Your eyes were shot, and your lips parted in a silent gasp. 

“I guess it was a good kiss.” Chris shrugged, his smile mimicking a quiet laugh. 

“It was.” You recall the memory, and instinctively, you wet your lips. Chris holds your gaze, not letting you run or cower away again. 

The two of you are engaged in a silent battle, each waiting for the other to give in and address the unspoken tension between you. However, you refuse to be the first to make a move, unwilling to risk misinterpreting the situation.

Your breathing becomes shallow and heavy, “I should go to bed,” but you have no intention of moving. Rather than moving, you stay perfectly still, gazing at Chris, shifting your gaze from his eyes to his lips.

Chris inches closer, leaning into you. “Tell me you feel nothing, and I will walk away.” 

Another moment of silence settles in the air. His espresso eyes contrast with his pale skin, entrapping you, unable to move, speak, or breathe. His hand comes up to caress your cheek and moves a strand of hair away from your face. “Tell me you don’t feel what I feel,” he says.

Your breath is thick and trapped, and words never make it past your lips. All you can do is communicate with your eyes and beg for him to understand your silence. “I need you to tell me, baby”.

Already breathy and chest heaving with need, you nod your head rapidly and stutter out a “yes.” 

Within seconds, Chris's lips are on yours. It's nothing like the previous kiss you shared; this one is hungry, desperate, and has shallow breaths stolen when your lips part but immediately back as if they have been deprived and starved.  

His hands cup your face, deepening the kiss. You can feel his tongue silently ask permission, sliding along your bottom lip. You steal another breath, which Chris takes as an opportunity to push his tongue past the barrier of your lips. He swallows your pleasurable moans as your hands tug and pull him closer to your body. 

Heat radiates off of him like lust steaming off his body, and you can feel his muscles tense when you rake your hands over his clothes, begging him to remove his shirt.

Chris uses his body weight to push your back flat against the couch; he lodges his leg between your thighs, spreading your legs and pressing against your core. The sudden tension makes you groan into Chris’s mouth, which he devours.  

He keeps the tension on your core, slightly rubbing his thigh against it every now and again. When his hands move down, one to grasp you by your hip and another to fondle your breast is when you separate your lips to release the sudden gasp, all the while, you arch your back.

His grip on your hip tightens, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” his words rasp into your ear, sending shockwaves down every nerve in your body.  

His hands hold you close to his body, and all the while, his eyes wander. Words blend into moans and whimpers as Chris keeps your burning core stimulated with his thigh. “How do you want it, baby?” His voice buzzes in your ear, and it shoots straight to your gut, making you needy and excited for more. 

“Tell me what you want.” your hands shoot into Chris’s hair, tugging and angling his head so you can kiss him again. You just want him, all of him. With your tongue plunged into his mouth, you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. His thigh moves so his hips join with yours, pushing his growing bulge against your thumping core.

Your lips part and open to say something, but Chris adds more pressure to his hips, pushing his erection against you. What you were going to say dies on your tongue, and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. “I want you so bad,” he growls, hiding his rosy cheeks in the crook of your neck. His hips find a slow rhythm, grinding both your clothed cores against each other. 

“Chris,” you moan his name, and you can feel his groin twitch against his pants. Your positive Chris can smell your arousal dripping from you. The wet spot thats gathered at the base of your panties is evidence of it. 

“Please,” you whimper, desperate for more of him. He hums in your shoulder before biting the flesh. The sudden pain causes your face to contort, but it quickly subsides as you feel Chris’s tongue soothing the mark, leaving a beautiful love bite behind.

“I never thought I’d hear you say that, fuck, that’s hot” Your mind is fuzzy with how Chris is grinding his erection into you. 

Without warning, Chris pulls his body up, only to crawl down between your legs. He makes quick work of ridding your lower clothing. Leaving you bare in front of him. Your pussy clenches from his intense stare, and your face heats when he realizes it. “What? Do I make you nervous when I stare?”

You can feel the heat of his breath against your folds. It makes you clench around nothing…and he smirks at the sight. 

Chris starts to kiss your thighs, inching closer to your dripping pussy. Finally, relief washes over you as Chris wets your lips with his tongue. Your hand goes back into Chris’s hair, tugging him closer. 

You bite your lip, trying to keep your moans quiet as his wet muscle swirls around your swollen bundle of nerves. You hold back your screams of pleasure, not willing just yet to let him hear you. 

“Are you holding back?” Chris peaks up from between your legs. Your hips follow him, begging for him to continue. You both meet eyes, and he can tell you’ve been holding back your screams from him. “Don’t. I want to hear you. I want the neighbors to know my name,” and with that, he dives back between your legs, attacking your clit like there is no tomorrow. 

You scream his name in pleasure, grinding your hips onto him. Chris works in tandem in sucking your clit into his mouth and flicking his tongue inside your walls. 

Within minutes your coating his chin with your juices and moaning at the relief in your body. Your orgasm washes over you, but that doesn’t stop Chris. He loves the way your pussy tastes. The sweetness he can feel on his tongue electrifies his whole body. 

“Chris, I- ahg -wait, I can’t” Chris keeps his previous pace, sucking your clit and looping his tongue inside your folds. 

“Come for me, baby. You’ve done so well.” Chris slides his middle finger past your wet folds, curling it up so it hits the gummy spot that makes you see stars. Your legs begin to shake, and your whole body convulses at the added feeling. 

“Chris!” you scream his name as your second orgasm squirts onto his shirt. Your legs shut close, and Chris removes himself from between them. He jumps up to kiss your forehead and lips gently. “You did so well for me, baby. I’ve got you,” he coos softly. 

One of his hands rubs soft circles on your hips, biding them open again. The ache of overstimulation subsides and your legs begin to open again. Chris kisses your forehead gently one last time, a smirk clear on his face. 

 Lost in lust, you tug off his shirt, revealing his chiseled abs and defined body. Your eyes go wide, but Chris takes your lips in a hurried kiss. You rake your hand down his pecks to his abs, stopping just before where his V-line meets the button of his pants. You break the kiss to find that his face is contorted to what looks like pain. Worry shoots through you, but Chris snaps his eyes open and cages you below him, his arms on either side of your head, “no one has ever touched me like that.” he breathes…” Do it again.”

***

You both tugged at each other, prying more clothes off your bodies and ending up in your current position. You straddling his lap, rubbing your bare cunt against his cock.

Logic and reason left your mind when Chris had you quivering over his tongue. “Y/N, shouldn’t we-” 

But you didn’t want to wait another second. You lifted your lips to guide your folds onto Chris’s waiting cock. You both groan at the pleasure. 

Immediately, you start swirling your hips, chasing that pleasure. “Slowly, baby, I’m not going anywhere,” you clenched at his words. You cling to his words. You hope those words are true, even after this night, after this whole contract thing is over. You don’t want this to end. You hug yourself close to his body, grasping his shoulders, and you can tell by the way he holds you close that he’s thinking the same thoughts as you. 

You lift your hips slowly only to let yourself settle back down onto his cock. You both relish the feeling, not wanting it to be over too soon; You set a measured pace. 

You can see the sweat trickle down Chris’s forehead. His hands claw the flesh of your ass, willing himself not to ram into you. The last thing he wants is for this to end too quickly, and he’ll be damned if he comes before you do. 

A mixture of moans and grunts fills the room. Your hips have a mind of their own as they begin to grind into him at a more steady pace. Your nails leave red marks on his shoulders, “I want to see you, want to watch you come,” Chris grunts out. 

Something within you snaps. You don’t know if it was his words or the growing knot twisting inside you, but with his words, you lift your hips and slam down onto his cock. You set a brutal pace, bousing on top of him. Chris grinds his teeth but wills his eyes open so he can watch your perfect tits bounce. 

You are both lost in the pleasure of each other, and both of you try to chase your release. Chris’s hands grip your waist like a vice, helping you lift your hips in tandem with his thrusts. 

“God, you feel so fucking good.” His thrusts become frantic, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix perfectly. With a few more final thrusts into you, you were coming undone onto his cock. Screaming his name and leaving scratch marks against his abs. 

His cock plunged desperately in and out of your spasming, creaming cunt, using your body shamelessly for his own euphoric release. The harsh sounds of skin slapping skin and shattered moans and muffled curses echoed off the walls as Chris pushed his cock into you and coated your inner walls white. 

You both stilled, with heavy and shaky breathing being the only forms of communication you could muster. 

You couldn’t move, could hardly breathe, and your mind was nothing but a pile of mush. It was once you opened your eyes and realized you had been moved, cleaned, and tucked into your own bed did you realize that you passed out in Chris’s arms. 

You expected to wake up in his arms, but he was nowhere to be seen. You were left in your own room, alone and cold. 

“Chris?” you called, hoping what you experienced wasn’t a dream, that it was real. It sure felt real. Your legs and pussy were still sore just thinking about it. 

Worry begins to settle in. What if you did imagine all of it? What if you're back to a feeling that's all too familiar, with uncomfortable tension that sends shivers down your spine and nights filled with longing for what could have been?

“Look who’s finally up.” You turned your head to your door frame, where Chris was holding a bag of food in one hand. 

You could feel your shoulders relax, “what, you didn’t think I dish you after one night, did you?” he came closer, setting the bag to the side. 

“No, just got me worried.” Chan comes brings his hand up to caress your cheek and you lean into his touch. 

*Chris*

You both knew what was coming. Now that the tension has spoken for itself, what does that mean for the both of you?

Chris sits himself on the edge of your bed, taking a breath for what he’s about to say, but you speak first. 

“What does this mean now? Is the contract still in place?” 

His ears perk up and his eyes widen. He wasn’t about to let you go, no now, not ever. “I’ll be honest. I like you… a lot.” a chuckle escapes him “and I don’t want this to be the end. But I also don’t want to push you, if you don’t want the same.-”

“I do” you interrupt him. Your cheeks flush with that pretty pink that makes him melt and your smile shines high which makes his chest fill with a warmth he’s never felt before. 

“You do?”

“I like you too, I wouldn’t have done what we did if I didn’t. And honestly, I could give two shits about the contract right now” you chuckle with him. 

“Then how about this…” he twists his body so he can comfortably face you and holds out his hand for you to shake, “a new contract, physically binding.” he smiles, but suddenly changes his tone to a more serious one, “I promise to make you laugh, I promise to piss the hell out of you, but make it up to you, to make you smile, to bug the hell out of you, and I promise that as long as I call you mine, I will love you with all of me.”

Your smile stretches miles and you shake his hand. With heartfelt sincerity, you speak, “I promise to always find ways to bring a smile to your face and fill the air with laughter. I promise to make mistakes, but find ways for you to forgive me, I also promise to love every part of you even the parts you may seem unlovable.” Your voice is so angelic as if it’s softly whispering into his ear. 

You both share a tender kiss, feeling the warmth of each other's embrace. As your lips meet, a rush of emotions overcomes you, and you find yourselves entwined in each other's arms. The soft touch of your partner's skin against yours creates an intimate and comforting atmosphere. As you lay in bed, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you wrapped in each other's love. In this moment, you both find solace in the knowledge that no matter what challenges life may present, you have each other to lean on.

[mirrology]

I wanted to request Platonic Boothill and child reader!

After finding out about what happened to Boothill’s daughter wanted to request him finding child reading and taking them in as his own kid and caring for them, taking them to little events or fairs 😭

FEEL SO BAD FOR BOOTHILL ☹️ HE LOST HIS HOME, HIS DAUGHTER AND HIS BODY 😭 IM BALLING MY EYES OUT

— Wunderkind .ᐟ ʚɞ

୨୧ Wunderkind: (noun) a wonder child or child prodigy

Ft. Boothill, gender-neutral reader, platonic. wc: 972

Content: child reader, reader is a sort of 'prize' for an unknown person, the first scene is inspired by mizisua meeting but its platonic, got a little lazy so the rest is headcanons, reader gets surprise adopted, boothill is the best dad ever, he spoils the reader, they both go to fairs and parks often. / a strange man took you in when you were at your lowest. You never knew that you would be at your highest when with him. slight angst but then fluff

Notes: thank you for the request!! i tried my best to incorporate everything that you mentioned. boothill's backstory is so sad and it truly made by tear up, also the IPC sucks.

Fate hadn't been kind to you, you don't remember how you ended up being a so-called prize for a person you barely knew. You don't remember your parent's face nor remember if you even had any. They dressed you up in the fanciest clothes, ones laced with ruffles and the softest cloth, made sure your hair was always neat and tidy. Yet they never actually cared for you, they only wished to show you off as a trophy as they called you.

When out of all the eyes that watched you, they treated you roughly. Grabbing your head and pushing you down to the ground when you didn't meet their expectations, gripping every inch of your arms and leaving blooming bruises in their wake. All while showing you off to everyone in their premise.

You stared blankly at the street, watching people walk by and cars pass. You sat down in an alley way, leaning against the wall of a shop, just, waiting. You had escaped from that manor, from that wretched place. Although you had no hope that you would be free, sooner or later they would find you and bring you back all to restart that agonizing cycle. Just the thought made you squeamish, it made you disgusted.

Your eyes drooped as you looked at people living normal lives, you oh so desperately wished from someone to take you away from this world. As you were lost in your thoughts a pair of boots stopped in front of you, you snapped out of your daydreaming and slowly tilted your head up. Your eyes met with grey ones, you stared blankly at the man in front of you. He had white and black hair, the two colors clashing like yin and yang, it was pretty. He... looked concerned? The man crouched down on one knee to be at your level, you watched him as he did, not once did you take your eyes off of him.

"Hey, uh, ya' okay, kid?" he questioned, his tone was soft and barely above a whisper as if you would run away at the slightest noise. You blinked in surprise, you hadn't expected to be asked such a thing. Your eyes darted somewhere else that wasn't his face, did he want to help you? You considered saying that you didn't want help, but what would that mean for you?

You would be stuck living a life full of emptiness, unfulfilled by your wrongful choice. You looked back at him. He was still there, patiently awaiting your response. "I'm..." You momentarily stopped, your throat felt dry, you swallowed. "I'm lost and... alone, " you squeaked out. Although this wasn't the entire truth, yet it wasn't a complete lie either.

"Hm.." He hummed as his eyebrows furrowed, a conflicted expression on his face. He then perked up or rather tensed. He noticed a bruise, one which is black and dark purple at the moment, looks like a darker spot beneath your sleeve. He slowly reached out towards your arm, and he looked back at you. "May i?" He asked, his robotic fingertips gracing the edge of your long sleeve. Your eyes widened slightly, but you nodded. You suppose that this man really does want to help you.

He gently grasped your smaller hand in his, it was cold and stiff. Yet it didn't feel like theirs, this one was careful, considerate. The cool material felt nice against your sweaty palms.

The bruise spread from halfway up your arm down to almost your wrist, a deep purple-black bruise that stood out from the lighter colors of your clothes. It looks like it was recently made and very painful. The man looked stunned, as if this wasn't a normal occurrence. Well, you guess it wasn't for anyone else other than you. "Yer gonna need medical care, bud." He swiftly picked you up in his arms, holding you softly as if you would break in an instant.

You jumped slightly; you weren't used to being picked up nor touched in a way that wasn't aggressive for that matter. He led your arms to wrap around his neck, "Hold on, bud." He grinned at you, showing off his shark-like teeth. You stared in awe at your savior, being helped felt... nice. No one had ever been at your Beck and call, only ever "helped" when they wanted.

Tears sprung up into your eyes. You closed them tightly, not wanting to be seen in such a vulnerable state. "Thank you..." You whispered as you burried you head into the junction of his neck. He smiled and stroked the back of your head.

"Uhm.." You hummed out "What's your name mister?" Your head turned to look at him as your cheek was pressed against his shoulder blade. "Boothill, don't forget it." He chuckled and started walking to the nearest hospital.

You nodded, taking his words into account.

You wouldn't forget your savior.

Boothill is the best dad confirmed, he gets you whatever you want, whether it be food, toys, clothes or accessories. He gets it for you.

He's always patting your head or ruffling your hair; you don't mind thought. It's actually very comforting.

CONSTANTLY tells dad jokes and it makes it funnier when he tries cursing but it gets covered up by his synthesia beacon.

The both of you go out often to parks to play. He definitely pushes you on the swings, and helping you go as high as you can. And when he sees your big smile as you reach the bar, he knows he did a good job.

He brought you penacony once (when he was actually let in) and you had the time of your life.

It was very bright but new and exciting.

You got to eat new things that you've never seen before, such as cotton candy

[therealcocoshady]

RED CARPET APPEARANCE 🎥

Eminem x Young Actress Reader

This is Part 2 of Daddy's Spaghetti 🥰

Synopsis : You argue with Em about a red carpet appearance at the Oscars.

The last thing you wanted was to argue with your boyfriend right before going to the Oscars, but there you were. Lately, the two of you had been arguing quite a bit. To be fair, both of you were working a lot and being in a long distance relationship didn’t help. Not only did you have to manage hectic schedules, you also had to deal with time difference and last minute changes in plans. You had been dating Marshall for a few months now and you weren’t too sure how long things would last. Sure, when you were together, things were great, but actually getting together seemed impossible, these days. Right when you thought you could both make time, there was always something coming up, like an unplanned studio session, a meeting, or God knows what else. It didn’t help either that Marshall was paranoid about the two of you being seen together. 

After more than a decade in the spotlight and living in Los Angeles, you were used to paparazzi and having your picture taken whenever you were running errands. Of course, sometimes, it was annoying, but you had learned to live with it. Marshall, on the other hand, in spite of having a career lasting over twenty-five years was as paranoid as one could get. It was one of the many reasons why he hated being in Los Angeles and always tried to get you to come to Detroit instead, along with the weather being too hot. In truth, you didn’t mind going to Michigan or spending a lot of time inside, just the two of you. This time, however, you wished he would be the one making an effort. You were nominated for an Oscar for the first time and it was a big night for you. You knew he wasn’t a big fan of public appearances but you wished he would agree to coming with you. After all, he was a nominee himself - for the same movie as you, mind you - and everyone pretty much knew about your relationship, even though none of you had officially confirmed it. To you, there was no reason not to walk the red carpet together. However, when you asked him if he would be your date to the Academy Awards, he wasn’t too enthusiast. In fact, all you got from him was a « erm, I don’t know. We’ll see. Let me think about it. ». And after giving it some thought, he decided not to go with you, breaking it to you over FaceTime, three days before the event. He brought up a bunch of reasons, like having a studio session with Dre that might run late and prevent him from making it in time, hating the red carpet anyway and not wanting to be paraded in a suit that made him look like a penguin. He did not seem to care that you having to take someone else as your date would mean you wouldn’t be sitting next to each other or that you would have wanted him to be by your side. You were mad. You had always known he didn’t really care about awards and public appearances, but you wished he would make an effort for you. Him being set in his ways made you feel like he wouldn’t put you first, just for once. 

Do you even want to be with me ? You blurted out after he told you to find another date. 

What the fuck ? He asked with disbelief all over his face. What does that have to do with that damn red carpet, Y/N ? 

You cancelled the last time you were supposed to come to LA, you’re never available and now you won’t even make an effort for me, you explained. If you don’t want to be with me anymore, just say so… 

You’re so dramatic, they better give you that Oscar, he groaned. Not everything is about you, you know ? I’m working my ass off to get the album done in time, I don’t need you complaining over a stupid red carpet appearance. 

Oh I’m being dramatic ? You asked as you stared at his face on the screen. I’ll give you drama : you can book a hotel room and forget about all the nasty things you were planning on doing to me in bed for next time we were supposed to see each other. 

Whatever, he said as he rolled his eyes. Just go and rehearse your acceptance speech. I have to go anyway. I have Dre calling on the other line. I’ll call you later. 

He did try to call you a couple of hours later, but you didn’t feel like picking up. You were still pissed off and, frankly, a little stressed out too. After all, he hadn’t answered your question about wanting to be with you. You knew you’d have to talk to him at some point - and get to the bottom of the situation, but you also didn’t want to break up over the phone merely three days before one of the most important events of your life. Whatever it was, it could wait until after the Oscars. 

You ended up walking the red carpet with your older brother as your date. The two of you were extremely close and he had always been your plus one to events. It sort of made sense to go to the Oscars with him, even though you would have loved to have Marshall by your side. Your big brother was all smiles as he watched you pose for the photographers in a stunning custom Alaïa dress. However, your attire or possible Best Actress win wasn’t exactly the main focus of the journalists, who were yelling questions about your boyfriend who was nowhere to be found. 

Where is Eminem, Y/N ? One asked. Is he coming tonight ? 

Are the two of you together ? Another yelled. 

You didn’t answer the questions about him, only the ones about your nomination, how you’d feel about winning, the movie and your outfit. You tried to focus on the positives and everything this night meant for your career, but you had a hard time focusing. All you wanted was Marshall’s hand in yours and him to be by your side. Hell, you had even picked the dress color because you thought he would like it. You knew that blue was his favorite color and had figured that, if the two of you were to walk the red carpet together, it would make his eyes pop. 

Breathe, your brother said. You look tense. Is this about Em ? 

Just call him by his name, you said as you rolled his eyes. You’ve met him. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to be your date and enjoy the open bar, he continued, but you look… upset ? 

I think he wants to break up with me, you said nervously. 

No he doesn’t, your brother scoffed. Where did you get that from ? 

Well, he’s never available, he didn’t want to be here with me tonight, and he called me dramatic, and… 

First of all, you are dramatic, your brother chuckled. Also, you know he’s working a lot… 

I should have known better than to ask his biggest fan for support, you said as you rolled your eyes. 

Just shut up and focus on your big night, sis, he said with a smile. My baby sister might be getting the biggest award there is for being dramatic, tonight. Now, I think we should focus on that, as well as the fact that stylists managed to make you look presentable. 

Your brother’s weird encouragement was a good way to make you smile, and the glasses of champagne waiters kept on handing you did a great job when it came to taking the edge off. You were taken to your seats and the ceremony began. You kept nervously searching for Marshall in the crowd but you didn’t manage to spot him. Was he skipping the whole thing ? Your mind wandered as the ceremony unfolded and you were soon on autopilot. It was your first time attending the Academy Awards and this had to be the longest ceremony ever. The only entertaining things were the various performances. Your heart skipped a beat when you heard the music of Marshall’s song - the one he had written for the movie. He was not supposed to perform tonight - this had not been announced - but he was on stage, rapping the song that got him his second Oscars nomination exactly twenty years after winning Best Original Song for Lose Yourself. The crowd was wild and you were excited as well. Seeing him on stage made you forget how mad at him you were and you were back to being his number one fan, gushing over how good he looked and rapping the lyrics at the same time, like the groupie you very much were. His performance got him a standing ovation and, twenty minutes and a commercial break later, he was back on stage, accepting the award for Best Original Song. Only this time, he was conforming to the Academy’s dress code, looking dapper in a tux. He might hate this type of outfit, but no one could deny he looked absolutely incredible. One detail did catch your eye : the bow tie he was wearing was made of the same fabric as your dress. He was matching with you ! 

When you wouldn’t return his calls, he called me to ask who you were going to wear, your brother told you. 

He did ? You squeed. 

Yep. Not the kind of thing anyone who wants to break up with you would do, I think. I’m not supposed to tell you, but he’s got another one to match your second dress, too… 

You couldn’t help but smile. The fact that he would go out of his way to call your brother, as well as the dressmakers to have a bowtie matching your dress was absolutely adorable. You couldn’t keep your eyes off Marshall, who was giving a heartfelt speech about how great it felt to have the Academy acknowledge hip-hop and how grateful he was to have the opportunity to be on this stage, two decades after Lose Yourself won. His speech was just like him : elegant and understated. When he went back to his seat, you could see him search for you in the crowd and you waved quietly, sending him a kiss. You couldn’t wait to go and hug him. 

Can’t you behave ? Your brother chuckled. There’s cameras, Y/N. And try not to eye fuck him or drool, this time, will you ? 

I’ll try, you giggled. 

You were almost in agony the rest of the night and the two of you kept looking  and smiling at each other. As always when the two of you were in the same room, you were unable to take your eyes off him for a single second. You didn’t pay much attention to anything else that was going on, so much so that you almost missed your name being called for Best Actress. Everyone around you got up and cheered for you and you were lost. You had actually won an Oscar ?! You ? It didn’t feel right. Bit it was indeed, your name on the screen, and people kept on looking at you. Your brother had to help you get up as you came to your senses and realized that your childhood dream had come true. You made your way to the stage as tears of joy were welling in your eyes. You were almost shaking with nerves as you started your acceptance speech. You had one written and memorized but you couldn’t remember it for the life of you. You spotted Marshall in the crowd, who was smiling and looking at you with pride in his eyes, mouthing a silent « I love you ». 

I… Wow, you said nervously into the microphone. I can’t believe this is happening. I had something really heartfelt, clever and funny written but I can’t remember a single word so please bear with me. Hum… Standing here, on this stage, holding this award is a childhood dream come true. First, I want to thank my family who has always supported my passion, and I’d like to thank everyone in Hollywood that gave me a chance to act. And everyone who didn’t. In fact, I want to acknowledge every person who doubted me. And every boyfriend of mine who called me dramatic. There have been a few, and you best believe I’m creating a group chat tonight and telling them that I actually got an award for being dramatic and made it my full-time job. Um… What else ? Oh, uh, thank you to my manager, assistant, glam squad… Shout out to Alaïa for getting me into this dress tonight, and shout out to Marshall Mathers who will be taking it off me tonight. Dreams do come true, guys ! 

The crowd erupted in cheers and laughter and you could see Marshall laughing before you exited the stage. When you made it backstage, you took a moment to sit and realize what just happened. You had won an Oscar. Oh, and you had accidentally mentioned Marshall taking off your clothes. On stage. While million of people probably watched the ceremony on TV… Oops. A few people came to congratulate you, though you were quickly ushered back to your seat for the remainder of the ceremony. The movie you were in did not end up winning Best Picture, but you easily got over your disappointment. When the ceremony ended, you were swarmed by an army of people who came to congratulate you. You even got to hug Meryl Streep and tell her how she was the one who made you want to act in the first place, and this was definitely the highlight of your night. Your brother had gotten out of your sight and was enjoying the open bar, as he always did whenever he came with you to an event. When the crowd began to vacate, you had a moment to yourself. That’s when you spotted your boyfriend. 

Congratulations, he said as he pulled you into his arms. 

Congratulations to you too, you said giddily. You were amazing on stage ! 

As were you, he replied with a smile. Great speech, by the way… 

Oh my God, I am so sorry, you said. I forgot my speech, and I-I… Are you mad ? 

It’s fine, he chuckled. You’re way too adorable for me to be mad. 

Really ? You asked nervously. I know how you are about privacy… 

Really, he said reassuringly. And with you looking like this… ? I am glad everyone knows you’re spoken for. 

I think they got the idea when they saw you matching with me, you said with excitement. 

You like it ? He asked with a smile. I had to ask your brother and harass the dressmakers. They hate me. 

He told me, you said giddily. And I know you have another one to match my dress for the afterparty, too… 

If you still want me as your date, that is, he pointed out. 

I do, you giggled. But I’m going to need your help to get out of this dress and into the other… 

Let’s go, then. 

He grabbed your hand and you walked out of the theater, holding your awards, while an army of journalists were screaming to get your attention. You half-expected Marshall to let go of your hand, knowing how guarded he was when it came to the press, but he only squeezed it tighter before grabbing you by the waist as you made your way to a car. 

Em, how are you feeling tonight ? A journalist asked. 

Have you seen my date ? I’m great, man, he grinned as he looked at you lovingly. 

VIDEO : WATCH AS EMINEM GUSHES OVER Y/N AFTER THE OSCARS

Eminem & Y/N have officially confirmed their relationship ! The couple did not walk the red carpet together but they certainly made a memorable exit, as Eminem gushed over his date to journalists while not letting go of her. This happened after Y/N hinted at Em taking her Alaïa dress off her in her acceptance speech. While the Rap God did not mention his girlfriend in his own speech, he certainly appeared in love. While known for his stoic face, he was seen smiling all evening, especially when they made their way to the Vanity Fair afterparty (almost an hour late, mind you…)  in matching outfits. And if he does not seem like one to kiss and tell, no one missed Y/N’s lipstick all over his mouth, nor the hickies in his neck. 

That night was a big one for the rapper and the movie star, as they both took home statues, respectively for Best Original Song and Best Actress. And from the looks of it, they certainly celebrated.