#like I know that this relationship happened a long time ago and people have acknowledged how messed up it was

[hornychristianprincess]

wasted (leehan x fem reader) pt 2

paring: leehan x fem reader genre: smut, fluff, angst, fuckboy!leehan word count: 8k summary: tumbling into bed with Leehan isn’t so uncomplicated when you’re forced to set parameters around your relationship. warnings: explicit sex scenes, oral (female receiving), more butt action but nothing crazy read the fic on AO3 should you please by clicking HERE.

“So. You and Leehan?” questions Jaehyun as you now find yourselves alone, walking back to campus with your borrowed textbook now in tow.

You shrug, feeling like there’s nothing to tell as you process the now mere second interaction with the aforementioned stranger. “It’s nothing. We just hooked up at a party once.”

When you went to that house party a few weeks ago with your roomate, looking for an excuse to get drunk, sex was not on your mind at all. Still, it happened, and it was satisfying, but you truthfully spared no additional thought to that night in the aftermath, outside of a few occasional ripples up your body anytime a particular flashback popped into your mind.

“Are you, like, into him?” asked Jaehyun, who you were sure was asking so that he could know if there was any expectation on your end for him to play matchmaker. Or, maybe he wanted to warn you first, tell you about all of the strange things Leehan does as a roommate that would make your skin crawl. Either way, you weren’t interested, not even sure how deep your attraction to Leehan went or even if you’d see him again before you could think about any further action.

“He’s a little strange,” you reply, “But I’m attracted to him.” Not to mention how good of a fuck he was, you think to yourself, withholding such candor from Jaehyun who you’re sure has heard enough.

“Well,” said Jaehyun, opening the door for you as you reached the building of your morning class, “If you want to see him again, me, him, and a couple of our neighbors are driving out to the countryside to see the lunar eclipse this weekend. It’s supposed to be super pretty out there. Plus, I know you wanted me to tell you if me and friends were ever going out, and well, this is about as exciting as it gets.”

You contemplate the invitation with earnest, thinking through your homework load and wondering whether or not you can afford a weekend spent off-campus. 

In your pursuit to try and make friends as you settled into this new campus community, you’ve been hopefully awaiting Jaehyun to inform you of any activities he and his friends were partaking in. 

Leehan’s presence wouldn’t necessarily be a bonus, but it also wouldn’t be a detractor either. Maybe Leehan takes the one in one-night stand seriously. Maybe, he won’t be interested in interacting with you at all.

Or maybe, you’d have the chance to get to know the person who thus far has brought an unprecedented amount of excitement to your life. 

“What time are you leaving?” you ask Jaehyun eagerly.

You meet Jaehyun and his friends outside in the parking lot of their apartment complex on a breezy, Saturday morning. 

In the swarm of new people you meet, a mixture of Jaehyun’s neighbors and classmates, you don’t immediately see Leehan, and for a second, you wonder if maybe he decided not to come. 

It shouldn’t matter to you, really, and yet you can feel disappointment swelling hot inside you at the observation of his absence.

That is, until a few moments later, when he comes out from the front seat of a nearby parked car. Judging by the various bags he leaves on the dashboard, you can guess that he’s probably coming back from a store run.

He joins the eight or so of you huddled outside and says nothing to directly acknowledge you, although you suppose he shouldn’t have to. At this point, you’re still nothing more to each other than strangers who are perhaps – at least on your end – hoping to get to know each other a little better. 

You notice how handsome he looks as his long hair is tucked neatly behind his ears and the glasses you’ve seen him wear before are hung neatly into the collar of his white shirt. 

“Alright, so me and Leehan are driving,” says Jaehyun, standing in the middle of the circle you’ve all naturally formed. You watch him scrunch his eyebrows as he makes a quick count of how many of you are there.“There’s space for four in mine, and three in his. So we can just split up that way.”

Your first instinct is to ride with Jaehyun, the only person who you truly know and are comfortable with. But four of his friends are closer and quicker than you are, and not wanting to make an issue, you can only watch as they pile into his car before you can say or do anything.

“Well aren’t I just lucky?”

You turn around to face a smirking Leehan, whose deep and sultry voice was recognizable even before you saw him. You don’t know what to say so you just laugh, getting into his car and quickly moving past the fact that both his voice and closeness just now made your entire body buzz with excitment. 

Bad with names, you could barely recall any of the friends who Jaehyun introduced you to, but luckily the two people in the car with you and Leehan are those whose names you happened to remember. In the front seat with Leehan was Riwoo, whose calm voice and demeanor immediately gave you the impression of someone you’d get along well with, and in the back with you was Sungho, who you remembered because of his resonant laughter.

“So, Y/N,” says Leehan, only seconds after you’ve pulled out of the parking lot. “Tell us about yourself.”

You can’t tell by his tone whether he’s joking or being serious, nor can you catch his expression through the rearview mirror. So, you simply shrug. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re the new person here. We want to know everything you have to share,” he replies, and if it weren’t for the encouraging hums of agreement from Riwoo and Sungho, you’re sure you’d brush him off and say nothing at all.

‘Well, I’m a transfer student,” you explain, delving into the reasons behind your decision. It was mostly because you wanted a different experience, something intimate and small, unlike your previous school. “I used to go to a school in Tae-an.”

“Tae-an? You guys get a lot of fish down there, don’t you?” perks up an excited Leehan, and when you raise an eyebrow in confusion at the sudden switch in topic, Riwoo is quick to explain.

“Don’t mind him. He’s obsessed with fish. It’s half the reason why he wanted to come out to the countryside with us,” he says, and Sungho laughs along as if this is something they make fun of him for all the time. You notice how Leehan doesn’t seem to take this personal at all, in fact looking almost prideful at his friends’ observations of his interest. 

You decide that it’s something you like about him, how he has such a unique way of thinking and behaving and doesn’t seem to care when others point it out.

“Anways,” continues Riwoo. “How are you liking it here so far, Y/N?”

You take a second to consider the question. In the month or so since you’ve started class, spending this time today with Jaehyun and his friends is truly the most enmeshed you’ve felt on this new campus. 

“It’s nice. I’m grateful to Jaehyun for showing me around. The people I’ve met so far are really cool.”

“Are they?” quips Leehan, meeting your gaze in the rearview mirror. Everything about the way he looks at you is flirtatious and suggestive, even as you’re in a car with other people. “Well, consider yourself welcomed.”

You spend the rest of the car ride answering questions about yourself, most of which are directed by Leehan. And as hard as it is to read Leehan and his motivations behind such interest, it feels nice to be the subject of attention. To hear his breezy laugh when you say something sarcastic or watch his face scrunch in concentration as he listens to you tell a long story.

It’s about two hours into the drive that the four of you make a stop in the parking lot of a grocery store. Riwoo, Sungho, and Leehan use the time to get out and stretch their legs, while you go inside to buy snacks. 

When you return from inside the store, you’re surprised to see everyone but Leehan still outside of the car. Before you can ask what’s going on, Sungho opens his mouth in explanation. 

“So, apparently Leehan found a bungee jumping place on his phone nearby,” he informs you passively, “and says we’re taking a detour to go to it.”

The last words you were expecting to come out of Sungho’s mouth, you almost bust out laughing, but can tell by both Sungho and Riwoo’s matching expressions of non-plussed sincerity that these are the sort of hijinks Leehan gets up to all the time. 

So when the three of you pile into the car and Leehan excitedly exclaims, “Let’s go bungee jumping!” you can only sigh and lean your head against the window tiredly.

Just before you arrive at the bungee jumping facility, Riwoo and Sungho ask to get dropped off at a nearby restaurant, disinterested in being a voyeur to Leehan’s irregularity. Sharing the sentiment,  you’re just about to follow them out of the car when Leehan twists his body around to face you. “You’re doing it with me, right?”

All you can do is laugh, unable to take him or his spontaneous thrill-seeking serious.“You’re fucking crazy.”

“Said the detractors of every genius ever,” he retorts, smiling as he watches you react in disbelief to the pure sincerity behind his words. “C’mon,” he urges, laying a hand on your knee. “Don’t make me do this alone.”

The touch of Leehan’s fingers against your knee brings warmth even through the fabric of your leggings. You don’t understand how you got to the point where someone you barely know could convince you to do such an extreme activity like bungee jumping with them, and yet, you find yourself considering it as you melt under Leehan’s touch and curious personality. 

“I’ll go up with you, but that’s it,” you relent, fighting back a smirk as Leehan jumps up in his seat at that.

“Atta girl,” he replies, making your stomach swoop, and then you’re back in motion as he pulls the car out of the restaurant parking lot.

You arrive at the facility just a few moments later, finding it relatively empty and breezing through the process of signing waivers and other paperwork. That just leaves the two of you to walk side by side as you get on the elevator to the jumping platform, Leehan already strapped up and ready to go while you just linger for moral support.

Leehan runs a hand through his hair, causing the strands of his brown locks to cascade across his forehead. “I’m so excited. I’ve wanted to do this for forever,” he remark excitedly. The elevator rises into the air, making your stomach drop as you peer through the glass window and notice how high you are.

“This is higher than I thought it would be…:

“Don’t be scared. I’m here, aren’t I?” Leehan replies, a joking tilt to his voice as he smirks at your puzzled reaction. 

Amused at the presumptuous notion that his presence would bring any kind of comfort to you, you raise a curious eyebrow, asking in derisive sarcasm, “Is that supposed to mean something to me?” 

“It means I won’t let anything happen to you,” he declares sincerely, though like always you can’t tell if he’s being serious or not. Because while his words seem purely absurd, he says them with such shocking clarity that it’s not hard to feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Plus, he does spontaneous things like this – taking a detour from a road trip to go bungee jumping – with such confidence that it gives credence to the idea that he’s a person who is serious in all of his crazy ideas.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

It seems crazy to admit to yourself that, for reasons you can‘t understand, you actually feel like you do trust him. You also hate the way that his smile seems to unlock all types of hidden depths of desire deep within you, a feeling beyond just nerves overtaking you until you have to look away to keep yourself from smirking.

“Stop talking nonsense. I think the adrenaline is making you delirious,” is what you mumble when you don’t know what else to say, and the sound of Leehan’s laughter in the aftermath let’s you know you're not convincing anyone by trying to appear unaffected by his flirting. 

With a shaky thump, the elevator reaches the jumping platform. You watch from a slight distance as an attendant attaches a series of ropes and hooks to Leehan’s harnessed back. He peers playfully over the railed edge of the platform, where at least 100 meters of air meet him. And although his expression remains passive, he nervously says, “Wow, this actually is really high. I just might die today.”

Still leaning over the edge in a way that causes you anxiety, he continues after a wry laugh that makes it difficult to tell if he’s joking or not. “I’m too young to die. I haven’t accomplished all of my goals. I haven’t even graduated college. I haven’t been in love.”

Whether he’s being serious or not, you still can’t help the “Don’t say that,” that leaves your mouth automatically at his words. And whether it’s because he’s pleased to hear you expressing concern on his behalf or simply another one of his strange moments of variablity, he meets your gaze and goes from deadpan to smiling.

“If I do die, I’d die happy knowing your pretty face is the last thing I see,” he remarks passionately, and the corny-ness of the sentiment makes you roll your eyes disbelievingly. Leehan’s grin never wavers. “I’m gonna convince you to jump too, you know.”

You should probably be more resistant to the idea, and yet there’s a part of you that feels more assured seeing Leehan do it all so fearlessly. “Now that I’m up here…” you hear yourself say, taking a second look over the edge of the rail and finding yourself surprising calm at the image. “I just might.”

“Wait for me. I want to be there when you jump. I’m serious,” he says. When you meet his gaze, you almost laugh at loud at how sincerely serious he looks, how he goes from playful to passive to passionate so easily. 

The attendant finishes all of the safety precautions, giving Leehan the go-ahead to jump whenever he’s ready. But he remains where he’s standing, gaze never leaving yours as he once more says, “Tell me you’ll wait for me. If I’m gonna die right now, I need to hear you say it.”

It would be so easy to dismiss his passion as insincere, something to not take seriously, and yet you don’t. You acknowledge then that there’s no one quite like Leehan, no one who has managed to make you feel the things that he’s done in such a short amount of time.

“I’ll wait for you.”

Leehan smiles, and it really does seem like he needed to hear that, because he’s immediately bracing himself to stand on the very edge of the jumping platform, no rail to hold him back, just his own will. “Thank you, Y/N. We good to go?” he asks to the attendant, and when he’s given the thumbs up, he takes one last look over his shoulder to meet your gaze. “See you on the flipside, Y/N.”

It’s with those parting words that he leans headfirst into the abyss, bundles of rope cascading after him as he takes the plunge into the open air. 

He doesn’t let out a scream or a squeak, just jumps effortlessly, as if he isn’t scared of anything. 

His fearlessness is something that you’re simultaneously intimidated by and in awe of.

The attendant turns to you and asks if you’d like to go next. You’re replying yes, and in the next second you’re being strapped up in a harness. Leehan, who you were sure would be getting heralded into a boat and brought back to land by now, yells something that makes a lot of non-fear related butterflies flutter in your stomach. 

“Wait for me, Y/N!!!”

Whatever it is that’s drawing you to Leehan so magnetically has you bungee jumping with him not just once, but five times. And with the permission of the attendant, you even jump a few times together at once, legs wrapped around his waist in a tight embrace and head buried in his neck to keep yourself from screaming in his ear. 

Once the adrenaline high has run it’s course and you’re back on the road, Sungho and Riwoo in tow, you find yourself worn out to the max. You fall asleep against the car window, lulled to sleep by the faint sounds of tire against pavement. 

You don’t know what time it is when you’re woken up by the sound of lowly-spoken voices, only that it’s dark outside. Someone must have put a blanket over you, because you can only see through the little piece of light not obscured by the soft fabric over half your face. Thinking you might still be able to fall back asleep, you remain still, only to hear something from Riwoo that catches your attention. 

“Hey, what happened to that girl you were with? What was her name? Matty?”

You hear a soft chuckle that you immediately attribute to Leehan, an assumption that’s confirmed by the next words you hear out of his recognizably low, deep voice. “Nah, I think you’re talking about Natty.

“Me and her were never together. We were just hanging out for a couple of weeks.”

“Just hanging out, huh?” repeats Riwoo, disbelief and disapproval all mixed together in his softly-spoken voice. “You’ll never settle down, will you, Leehan?”

Wondering why Sungho hasn’t chimed in, you open one eye just slightly to confirm that he’s snoring softly in the seat next to yours. And in the moment where your eyes are slightly squinted open, you swear you see Leehan’s head jut over his shoulder, almost if he was trying to confirm if you were still sleeping or not. 

You must’ve closed your eyes at just the right time, because his next words are, “Why when I can fuck anyone I want?”

In the same sense of poorly fitting clothes, words of these sort just don’t sound right coming out of Leehan’s mouth, but you remain silent and still under the guise of being asleep. You’re not sure how to feel in reaction to what you’ve overheard — on one hand, the camaraderie you’ve developed with Leehan so far doesn’t negate the fact that the two of you have no sort of formal relationship. You don’t even think you could call him a friend, not with the little time you’ve spent together. 

And yet, you still feel a hot mix of disappointment swirling inside of you just the same at the news of him not being the person you thought he was. But even just making that internal acknowledgment makes you feel stupid and childish – when did he ever promise or do anything to imply something of substance? 

“Are we here?” asks Riwoo, breaking you out of thoughts that grow more complicated with each second you have to stew on them.

“Yeah, wake everyone up,” says Leehan, and then, you have to pretend like you weren’t alert listening to their conversation as Riwoo softly shakes you awake.

Jaehyun and his group, who made it to the hotel first, are already waiting outside as you, Leehan, Sungho and Riwoo pile out of the car. After the eclipse is over, you’ll stay here overnight and drive back to campus the next morning.

Jaehyun was in charge of booking the rooms and thus goes inside by himself to handle the check-in process. The rest of you wait outside, where the nighttime chill has you wishing you would’ve brought a jacket. You wrap your arms around your body in an effort to warm yourself.

You’re caught off guard for a moment when a wool cardigan is placed onto your shoulders from behind. Turning around to find Leehan behind you, you let out a sigh. “You scared me,” you grumble.

“Boo,” he halfheartedly exclaims before wrapping the jacket around your body tightly. It leaves him in just a t-shirt. “Here. You look cold.”

You know you should take the gesture for what it is – a simple, kind thing to do for someone you see shivering in the cold – but after what you heard earlier you find yourself searching his dark eyes, wishing you could read him now more than ever. 

“Thank you,” you reply softly, hearing your voice come out lower than intended and hoping he doesn’t notice as he walks away aimlessly.

It’s at that moment that Jaehyun comes out from the hotel lobby, holding a packet of keys in his hands and announcing, “Hey. They accidentally gave us an extra suite, and since they’re not busy, we get to keep it.”

There’s a chorus of cheers and commentary among the nine of you that’s interrupted by you asking, “How are we deciding room assignments?” 

“Rock, paper, scissors is what we usually do,” answers Sungho sensibly from beside you, and with that, everyone gathers in a circle for the game. Not invested in where you’ll sleep, you play rock each round, and somehow end up winning against Riwoo for the solo room.

“It’s a shame,” you remark, staring down at your winning fist a little regretfully. “Just as I was beginning to get to know you guys, and I get heralded off into the room by myself”

“It’s okay, Y/N. Thanks to Leehan, we probably already know your entire life story,” says Riwoo kindly in consolation.

“True,” you concede. Your gaze flits over to Leehan, looking to see if he had any reaction, and you find him staring blank-faced into the sky. You notice how he often has these dreamy moments where he seems to be in his own world, unchallenged by what’s going on around him. It’s hard to relate to someone so strange, and yet the fact that he marches to the beat of his own drum is one of the things you find most attractive about him. Maybe that’s why you’re having such a hard time reconciling with what you heard in the car, unable to imagine a person like him doing the things he spoke of.

“Well, the eclipse doesn’t start until midnight,” announces Jaehyun, looking down at his watch. “So I guess we can chill in our rooms and meet back outside when it’s time.”

Jaehyun gives everyone their room key, and from there you head inside and find your suite on the first floor. The first thing you do when inside is take a nice long, hot shower. After a full day spent sitting and sleeping in the confines of a car, the hot water is just what you need to feel energized again. You change into something comfortable and are drying your hair when suddenly, you hear a knock at your door.

“Who is it?” you shout as you make your way to the peephole, thinking you’ll see housekeeping with an extra towel or a neighbor complaining about you using up all the hot water. Instead, you’re faced with the distorted image of a dawdling Leehan as he leans against your door.

“Who do you think it is?” you hear him say in his deep, sinewy voice, and through the peephole you can just make out the smirk on his face – he hasn’t even done anything yet, and yet you already feel butterflies erupting in your stomach as you’re opening the door to face him.

Leaning against your doorframe in the t-shirt and sweatpants you’ve seen him in all day today, you watch Leehan look almost guilty, like he’s doing something he isn’t supposed to by coming to your room like this.

“Are you playing Mr. Anonymous again tonight?” 

Leehan, as if considering the question you intended to be sarcastic seriously, furrows his eyebrows in concentration. “I don’t think so. Are you gonna let me in?”

You take a few seconds to consider the request, although mostly for show. Truthfully, it’s a little embarrassing how your body is already buzzing in reaction to his presence, how you become girlish and flattered inside at the idea of him seeking out your company like this. 

Opening the door to let him inside, you watch as he immediately goes to sit on the edge of your bed. You close the door shut behind you and go to stand over him, though several feet away. “Why are you here?” you ask softly. Not at all opposed to his company, you’d stil like to hear what brought him here.

“Why do you think I’m here?” he questions back with a sheepish grin.

You roll your eyes at what is clearly him playing coy. Why make the move in coming over here if he wasn’t going to be direct? To waste your time by not being clear with what he wants? “You ask a lot of questions in response to other questions,” you point out with a frown.

“Sorry. It’s the philosophy major in me,” he explains in clusmy apology, leaning back aginst his palms and letting his eyes roam you. “You look pretty with your hair wet.”

Done trying to force explanations out of him, you simply remain silent and watch him watch you, and for someone whose usually so hard to read, you love how easy it is to tell when he’s checking you out. Now that you think of it, since you’ve known him, it’s been moments like these – when he’s on top of you or eating you out from the back – when you’ve truly felt like you understood and related to Leehan.

You take a few steps forward so that you’re standing just in front of him, and the way his gaze never leaves your body the entire time causes your insides to jump. “Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, when it clearly seems like he won’t be the one to break this silent tension.

“Because I want to fuck you,” he replies assertivley, being as direct as it gets, and his unfiltered candor causes the both of you to giggle at once. He follows up by asking shyly, “Too honest?”

“You’re crazy,” is all you say in responsw, moving forward even more so that you’re directly slotted between his legs. He raises a hand up to rub against the back of your thigh, and the fact that his hand is big enough to reach across the entire width of your leg makes you shiver. 

“If you’re not in the mood, tell me, and I’ll leave,” he says, avoiding your gaze when he does. Perhaps he’s assuming that your lack of immediate action means you’re not interested when really, you just find it fun to not make it easy for him. He must be so cocky to think that just by expressing his desire to fuck you you would immediatly fold. Humbling him, even in the smallest ways, lets you feel like you’re in control of this dynamic when honestly – both of you know that by the end of this interaction, no matter how long you drag it out, he’ll have gotten what he wanted.

“So if I say no to you, it means I’m not in the mood, and not just that I’m not into Leehan?”

Leehan throws his head back in laughter at this. Loving the sound, you let out a giggle as well. “I think you’re a lot of things, Y/N, but you don’t give liar. I'm at least 80% sure that you’re into me,” he declares.

And that’s what’s so funny about Leehan – he can go from annoyingly confident to unsure within seconds. “Oh yeah? And what’s the other 20%?” you question in amusement.

Leehan shrugs, bringing his broad shoulders to your eager attention. “A man can never be too confident, can he?” he quips, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. 

It’s at that moment that you decide you’re tired of making him wait – taking pleasure in the way his pupils grow wide in attention, you move to straddle his waist, using the shoulders you were just fawning over to support yourself. “Well, you’re bad at math Leehan – what’s your last name?”

“Kim.”

“You’re bad at math, Kim Leehan,” you mumble, leaning down to kiss his plush lips.

Whatever banter or power dynamics that were present before are forgotten the moment his lips are on yours. He’s just so good at kissing, always making your stomach flutter with the way he deepens the kiss by pulling you in by your hair and how he quickly progresses to tongue. Beforew you know it, you’re flipped onto your back, arching your back as his hands wander your body.

“I have to tell you, Y/N,” he opens his mouth to suddenly say, pulling away from your lips as he goes to rid you of your shorts. “I don’t usually do two time hookups. After the first time, I thought I’d never you see again.”

Your chest rises and falls with the weight of several shaky breaths, desire racing through you as Leehan just plays with the little bow on your underwear, looking up at you as he awaits your response. “And is that what you wanted?” you ask. “To never see me again?”

“Not particularly. Still, that’s usually how these things go,” answers Leehan in an almost unfeeling way, something you don’t dwell on as the yanking of your underwear down your legs brings your attention to more important matters. ”But then you show up here, all pretty and  badly-behaved, I couldn’t wait to get you alone.”

You’re not even given a chance to laugh at the words he uses to describe you before he lets a single, thick finger slip into your wetness, the stimulation of which has you already moaning, arching your back. He pushes it in and out of you in slow, teasing movements that are made lewd by the sound of your wetness gushing in and out with his finger. When he goes knuckle deep, curling the digit inside of you, you throw your head back, asking for more.

“I wanna make you come, Y/N. I wanna make you come so bad.”

“So do it,” you mumble in response, once again struck by the intensity of him giving you pleasure like this while keeping his eyes locked on your face. Despite your pleading and his own admitted eagerness to please you, he maintains a steadily slow pace as he continues to push his finger in and out of you.

“I have to let you know something first,” he says, and although you hear him take on a more serious tone, you don’t pay any mind to it, too focused on your building pleasure to analyze another one of his characteristic changes in disposition. “I’m not interested in being your boyfriend. Or anyone’s boyfriend for that matter.”

You slightly perk up at these words, wondering why it’s so important for him to tell you them  now after he’s already took your clothes off and began fingering you into bliss. You don’t say anything in reply, only moan, hoping he’ll add another finger as he continues his languid movements.

“And if that’s an issue for you,” he continues, his voice grave and deep. “If you can’t fuck me knowing that, then we should stop now.”

To perhaps emphasize how serious he’s being, Leehan takes his finger out from you in one sudden movement, leaving you empty and unsatisfied. It has it’s desired effect because you find yourself sitting up, finally taking real consideration of his words.

“But if you still want me,” he says, the two of you face to face in a way that lets you see the absence of amusement in his expression for the first time since he started talking. “Then dare I say that I’ll look foward to this becoming a regular thing between us. Should you want that, of course.”

He runs a hand through his hair, perhaps expressing a bit of nervousness as he awaits your response to this sudden proposition you’ve been given. Finding it hard to take any of his musings serious, you reach a hand up to cup his cheek. “I mean, you’re not wrong,” you assert with a tilt of your head. “Why settle down when you can fuck anyone you want?”

Immediately understanding what you’re referencing, Leehan smirks. “You heard that?”

“Yeah,” you confirm with a pitying half-smile, “and it almost made every bit of attraction I had for you dry up.”

Even as Leehan smiles shyly, looking down to avoid your gaze, you still don’t get the feeling that he’s at all regretful about what you heard him say. “I mean, was I wrong?” he raises, running his fingers along the skin of your bare leg. “Right now, you’re what I want, and I’m fucking you, aren’t I? Is that not what this is?”

Faced with the reality of Leehan’s advances for the first time, you have a hard time deciding how you feel about the proposition he’s posed. You feel pulled to Leehan in a way you haven’t felt for anyone, ever. And a part of you is disappointed and maybe even a little sad that he’s basically asking you to boil down a dynamic you were curious to watch grow to just detached, casual sex. 

Earlier, when you went bungee-jumping, it stuck with you when Leehan mentioned never having been in love before. Is this why? Because he prefers relationships that are devoid of any true emotional connection?

You could say no and remain friends. You’d be able to watch your relationship play out in a platonic manner. But that would be denying yourself of some of the best sex of your adult life, not to mention the pure herione that is feeling sexually desired and wanted by him.

Faced with such a dilemma, you defer to your instincts. And instinctually, you’re inclined to believe that maybe you and Leehan were meant to meet this way. Before now, you don’t think you would have ever went for someone like Leehan with romantic intentions. 

He’s too wayward, too free-spirited. 

And yet, your paths were brought together in an unlikely way, and perhaps you should lean into the feeling that caused you to follow him into a stranger’s bedroom just a few weeks ago – the promise of mindblowing sex.

“You’re an enigma, Kim Leehan,” you declare with sincerity. “I don’t want to be your girlfriend either. No offense.”

“None taken,” he replies with breezy indifference, bringing his hand to lay over the one you have on his face. “But don’t say that so easily. You don’t know me well enough yet.”

You roll your eyes at yet another show of cockiness from him. “And are you saying if I did, I would fall for you?”

Even as his expression remains passive, he replies forebodingly, “Isn’t that usually how these things end?”

You’re not sure what to make of that statement, so you decide not to respond. “Like I said, I don’t want to be your girlfriend. I do, however, want you to fuck the shit out of me. You’re capable of that, no?”

Leehan stares at you like he’s only now just capturing you and your essence, and his expression is that of someone in awe. It makes your heart and core flutter at the same time. “I really hope you mean it when you say you don’t want to be my girlfriend, Y/N,” he mumbles, and then, he’s leaning in to kiss you.

It’s as if there was never a lapse in intensity as you’re quickly brought back to the passion and vigor from before through the strength of Leehan’s kiss. Sliding his hands underneath your legs, he scoops your entire body up and positions you so that you’re laying down directly underneath him. It’s from there that he takes your shirt off, finding you braless underneath and wasting no time in attaching his mouth to your nipple. 

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he mumbles reverently, hands caressing the sides of your body as he switches from licking at your hardened nipple to talking. “You don’t understand how much I’ve been dreaming about this pussy since I had it.”

You want to tell him how flattering it is to hear that he’s been thinking about you in the time since you last had sex, and express your own desire, but you can’t when two of his fingers return to their previous lodgings in your still sopping wet cunt. He no longer holds back like he did before when he wanted you to hear him speak. Making your pleasure his top priority, he bends his slender digits deep inside of you, thrusting them in and out while you cry out with each brush against your g-spot.

“Does that feel good?” he asks, and if you weren’t so immersed in your own approaching climax, you’d laugh at how genuinely invested he sounds in knowing whether or not he’s doing a good job. To you, it should be more than obvious how well he’s doing by the way you arch your back at every thrust, reaching up to peck his lips but failing to maintain a steady kiss because of your moans. But Leehan’s oddball tendecies and moments of sudden sincerity are too familiar at this point to throw you off – instead, you find it sexy to experience both physically and verbally his commitment to making you feel good.

“Gonna come,” you’re confessing through whimpers just a few moments later, being brought to babbles as Leehan uses his thumb to stimulate your clit. His eyebrows become furrowed as he zeroes in on the pace that has thus far brought you to climax, rather than speeding up. 

What once intimidated you was the way that Leehan thoroughly studies your expressions as you’re experiencing pleasure. His searing eye contact, his unreadablly passionate expression, the way it’s almost as if he’s looking through you rather than at you. And yet, when the intensity of your orgasm begins to travel throughhout your body, the sound of him saying, “Come on my hand,” ringing softly in your ears, it’s through looking in his eyes that things feel increasingly more passionate. 

To feel this sexually connected to someone who up until this point was just a one-night-stand confounds you, and yet leaning in to such connection has led to some of the best orgasms of your life.

“Turn around, pretty girl,” is what he tells you after you’ve come down from your orgasm, and in your eagenerness to get him inside of you, you follow the request without question. Still, remembering his insistence from before about wanting to maintain eye contact when he fucks, you find yourself teasingly asking while facing the bedsheets, “What happened to wanting eye contact?”

“Who said we couldn’t?” he raises playfully in reply, and before you can question what he means, you feel one of his large hands snaking around your body. He pushes at your stomach and hips, helping you into an elevated arch. From here, it’s much easier for you to turn your head around without craning your neck, something you realize as Leehan pulls gently at your hair and meets you for a sloppy kiss.

When he pulls away, you shiver, your body reacting in shock to the attractive gesture. He notices this with a grin and must interpret the reaction as nervousness. “Don’t worry. I don’t bite. Unless you like that?”

“Shut up,” you grumble, laughing as he sits up and releases his hold on your waist. It causes you to fall flat on the bed, where you relax in anticipation as you hear the sounds of him taking his clothes off behind you.

“The fact that you even remembered I said that makes me happy,” he remarks in reference to the eye contact comment, and the sudden sentimentality of that statement makes you feel non-sexual related butterflies towards the man behind you. But your focus is brought back to the sex as he positions himself behind you, gripping onto his shaft and rubbing it along the expanse of your slit. You moan, but then remember that you neglected to think of protection.

“Fuck, I forgot about condoms.”

“Don’t worry. I have some,” he says, and you watch over your shoulder as he goes to rummage through the pockets of his sweatpants, discarded and left on the edge of the bed. 

“Should I ask why you came on this trip prepared for condoms?”

“Because cum makes for the best fish bait,” he replies ironically in response, and you realize then how attracted you must be to Leehan to hear him say these sorts of things completely sincerly and not lose even an ounce of your desire for him. He’s not at all deterred by your lack of reaction to his musings, either. Lining his condom-clothed cock up with your entrance, he asks, “Are you ready, sweet girl?”

If the fact that your entire body was buzzing with arousal wasn’t enough for you to want him to fuck you, the use of that pet name takes you over the edge. “Yes, please.”

“Gonna go slow so you can feel every inch of me,” he informs you fliratiously, pushing inside of you and making true to every part of that promise as you feel every inch, ridge, and vein of his cock as it enters, making you mewl until he’s balls deep. “How’s that?” he asks in search of your approval.

“So, so good Leehan,” you reply, loving the way that you can look back into his eyes and see the same pleasure you’re experiencing etched into his expression, furrowed eyebrows and lip between his teeth as he begins to thrust into you.

He makes a throaty, husky mhmm noise in your ear, something you reciprocate in your own whiny way in reaction to the languid pace he’s set. A hand on the left of your body is used to hold himself up while the other rests on your lower stomach, helping to push you backward on his cock so that the impact of his each thrust is doubled by both of your efforts. The words “You’re perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect,” mumbled into your ear as he fucks you make your entire body stand on end, something about being fucked just right in combination with his poetic way of talking making you absolutely crazy. 

Still maintaining eye contact with you, you feel the warmth of his body leave your back as he sits up fully. You’re almost dismayed until you feel pressure against your asshole, hearing him say, “Do you like it when I play with you here, too?”

“Oh my god, Leehan,” you exclaim in reply, the pressure of his thumb against your ass in combination with his thrusts become too much in the best way. “Don’t stop.”

Leehan doesn’t stop, and in fact, as you hear him lewdly spit on the surface of his hand, his thumb penetrates the tight expanse of your asshole. You moan as the added stiumulation makes your climax feel like it’s coming at you at an even faster rate than before. And Leehan, clearly perceptive to this, says, “Not yet. Beg for it.”

In your desperation to come, you don’t question the next words out of your mouth; in fact, you relish in the way Leehan groans in response to them. “Want you to make me come, Leehan. Please. Wanna feel you come inside of me.”

Continuing the trend of breeding-related teasing, you find that a remark which should be nonsensical considering the condom you both feel him wearing, if anything makes you both more turned on. “Take it then, baby. Coax it out of me,” he tells you, and by the withering sound of his voice, you can tell he’s close to climaxing. In a moment of serendipitous alignment, you find that you too, are dangling over an edge where on the other side is another moment of Earth-shattering pleasure. 

It’s something as simple as a wiggle of his thumb inside of you, a thrust so firm that it almost causes your arch to collapse, that has you reaching the peak of your pleasure. And Leehan, whose pained expression you can see as you never once stop looking behind your shoulder, quickly follows you with a hoarse grunt. There is something just so amorous about reaching that peak together, something like pride and satisfaction and fondness washing over you at once until you’re both collapsing tiredly on the bed next to each other. 

You’re first to break the breathing-filled silence, turning on your side to look at Leehan and finding him more attractive than ever in his post-orgasm state. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over how good you are at that,” you tell him, feeling suddenly inclined to reach out and swipe at the stray pieces of hair on his forehead. You resist if only to maintain the boundary of familiarity that has only loosely been established between the two of you.

But to your surprise, Leehan reaches out to lace his hand into yours, defying any sort of expectation that you shouldn’t continue to remain physically close after sex. He raises both of your arms upward in a trumphant gesture that makes you laugh. “We. How good we are at that,” he remarks correctivley.

He lets your hand go and for a second you both just lay there in comfortable silence, until you realize the entire reason why you’re staying at a hotel six hours away from home. “Wait. What time is it? Did we miss the eclipse?”

Leehan leisurely reaches for his phone on the bedstand, taking a quick glance at the time before bringing the screen it to your view. It’s just a few minutes after 11:30. “Perfect timing, actually,” he says, and then, raising a questioning eyebrow, asks, “Shall we go out together?” 

It is of course, as a result of your utmost predilections, to say yes, so within a few moments you’re both dressed in your previously discarded clothes and headed outside the hotel. 

Even if it was a concern for you, you luckily don’t have to worry about the rest of the group making conclusions about the fact that you arrive together, because you go outside to find that they’re all too focused in finding a good spot to lay out on the grass to get the best view of the approaching eclipse. 

Jaehyun, flamboyant as ever, has Sungho help him onto the hood of his car so that he can get on top and watch it from there. Everyone else either scatters on the grass with blankets or leans against the car. You ultimately settle for watching it behind everyone else, standing in the spce just between the car and the grass.

The eclipse, just as expected, is a beautiful sight. But what excites you more is the moment when you feel someone’s hands snaking around your body and into the front pockets of your shorts. Leehan hugs you from behind, saying nothing as he rests his chin on the top of your head and relaxes into you. Standing in the back of the group, no one else notices the moment between the two of you, which makes it feel that much more special.

As you tilt your head up to confirm it’s him and observe the way he watches the eclipse dreamily, it fills you with thoughts about the budding relationship between you two. You can’t help but think back to the words you overheard him saying earlier in the car.

They were the sentiments of someone who seemingly had no regard for what it meant to share your body with someone for an extended period time, to bare yourself physically and emotionally for the pleasure of another person.

But in your time with Leehan, you’ve never been made to feel that way. Like lightning in a bottle, the chemistry and connection between the two of you is not something that could be manufactured. 

Far from feeling as if you’re too special for this to end, you simply are confident that, even if this grows to be nothing more than sex, the feeling of being wanted and desired by Leehan is too good for you to ever be made discontent.

As you pack up to leave the next day, Leehan lets Riwoo drive his car for a chance to relax instead of having to be alert for six hours. He sits in the backseat with you, and for one final moment of tenderness between the two of you, he spends the entire ride with his head rested against your shoulder, snoring softly as your closeness renders him sleepy and relaxed.

part 3 coming soon :)

taglist: @lailols @papichulomacy @0310s @softiwoon @gardenforwon @cherrytaesan @mryuyux @saintriots

comment or send an ask to be added to the taglist!

[sbd-laytall]

Wow, Tana, it's almost like you're 23 and dating a boy who's physically and mentally 16.

Because you are.

Please tell me why DC portrayed her coworkers' valid concerns as gossip when they're 100% in the right.

Oh, right. It's because DC loves showing unhealthy relationship dynamics.

Superboy (1994) #0

[comixandco]

my favourite part of season 5 is still the reveal that Gabriel and Tomoe thought Adrien and Kagami made the perfect pair and wanted them to be together because it completely flips their relationship

Kagami and Adrien sneaking around and finding the slightest gaps in their schedule and giving their bodyguards/parents the slip to spend time together and feeling so clever that they’ve gotten away with it their parents don’t suspect a thing

only to smashcut to Gabriel and Tomoe doing an evil pound it because their ship is canon

[beauspot]

Good Omens Is a Big Deal

With everything going on I haven’t acknowledged how grateful I am for what Neil (and John) did this season. I always saw Good Omens as a romantic story and everyone involved seemed to be super supportive of that. To actually see a follow through on those themes was wonderful though. To see Aziraphale continue to look at Crowley like he’s the earth, the moon, and the stars. To see Crowley continue to save his angel not because he needs them to, but because they love him.

To see them have their dinners, and give the other access to their prized possessions. To see them dance. They love each other. They are in love with each other and it’s not implied or a throwaway line that can be edited out.

It’s the beating heart at the center of the story.

And they weren’t meant to be. Neil himself will tell you when he and Terry wrote the book Aziraphale and Crowley were meant to be friends and that’s it. Over time their relationship evolved and where a lot of writers would simply ignore that and keep pushing forward Neil pivoted and said “you know what? let’s see where this goes.” The last time I can remember something like this happening was with Hannibal years ago, it’s so rare with queer pairings.

I know everyone was excited about the kiss and it is refreshing to see queer people actually get to kiss, it’s still not something that happens all the time, but that’s not what made them canonically queer to me. If they remained completely asexual and never kissed or showed interest in kissing one another I’d feel the same. While I always felt they were queer what sealed it for me were 3 things:

1. Nina and Maggie, a romantic pairing that parallel our angel and demon break down to Crowley how she and Aziraphale are partners (and it’s clear they don’t mean business partners, does Crowley look like he runs a bookshop?) but they never say what they’re really thinking. They go on to state how that’s all they needed, the obvious implication here being that Nina and Maggie shared their romantic feelings with one another and that Crowley and Aziraphale need to do the same. Upon hearing this Crowley takes that as a sign to confess his feelings.

2. Gabriel and Beelzebub, another pairing that parallels Crowley and Aziraphale who are also clearly in love with one another is something Crowley references while he is confessing his feelings. “If those two lovestruck idiots can go off together, so can we. Because I love you.”

3. Crowley and Aziraphale express plainly to each other that they need the other. Crowley says to Aziraphale he wants to stop pretending they aren’t a team, a group, a them.

Aziraphale says verbatim “We can be together.” and “I need you.” He doesn’t say “We can work together” or “I need you to help me” or some other cop out that a lot of other shows or movies might come up with to continue to bait their fans, while having plausible deniability.

They love each other and it’s not platonic.

To me, the kiss serves as a way to seal the deal for people who only understand queer love when it’s punching them in the face. That’s not to say queer people can’t like the kiss, it’s one of my favorite scenes in the show simply because of how heartbreaking it is, but they were a couple to me long before that. And to add onto that by making every other important pairing in the show queer as well? Nina and Maggie being happy sapphics who don’t die at the end. They’re not together, but the implication is that one day they will be. Two non-binary beings—Gabriel and Beelzebub—falling in love and choosing to be with one another forever. The angels and demons are all genderless and no one misgenders them and no one gives a FUCK.

That means so much to me and I genuinely cannot express how thankful I am that this show and this season were made. The only thing I can say is thank you for standing for something, because not everyone does.

[livwritesstuff]

boston pride is today so here have an edited repost from when i walked in the parade last year

Steve is getting boring in his old age (forty-four, almost).

It was inevitable, he supposes when he looks back, and he likes being boring. 

He likes the steady routine of the life he and Eddie (married for seven years, now) have built with their three daughters (four, seven, and nearly ten, a notion Steve is choosing to ignore because there’s no goddamn way Moe nearly has an entire decade under her belt already), and he doesn’t find himself making attempts to mix things up all that often.

Naturally, Eddie is the one to suggest they make the trip into Boston with their daughters for the annual Pride parade, and when he does, Steve isn’t automatically inclined to agree.

Look – Steve knows it’s important for kids to see the world and do new things and all that enriching shit, but maybe he still bears some of the scars from keeping a semi-feral pack of teenagers alive amidst the eldritch hellscape of their hometown, and it’s not like they don’t keep themselves entertained at home – Hazel had finally got the gist of Go-Fish not too long ago and that’s been a whole new ballgame Steve is perfectly content to continue exploring.

In the end, however, the logical side of him (and Eddie’s ever-persistent badgering) wins out, and come mid-June of 2011, they all make the drive into Boston to see the parade.

It doesn’t take Steve long at all to acknowledge that it was a good idea. He hadn’t been to Pride in many years (again – he’s boring in his old age), and he’d forgotten how much fun it is – a true celebration of love and happiness in the face of a lot of fucked up shit and all that. The parade’s pretty good too (definitely a few floats he hopes the girls are too distracted chasing after candy to notice and ask questions about later, but only time will tell), and so is the festival afterwards. It ends up being a really great time for all of them.

Of the whole day, though, Steve’s favorite part is the trip home, a drive that should have only been thirty minutes, but turns into nearly two hours with all the traffic on I-90.

The girls are still riding the sugar rush of an afternoon’s worth of lemonade and fried dough and candy thrown from parade floats (Hazel might be succumbing though, if Steve’s quick glances in the rear-view mirror at the way her eyes are drooping closed are anything to go off of), and it seems as if the day’s contagious joy had followed them into the car. Robbie and Moe have been asking a lot of questions – mostly chatter about what floats were everyone’s favorites and who got the best face paint until Moe, perceptive as she’s always been, hits them with, “What’s Pride for?”

Which turns into, “Why do people think it’s a bad thing?” and that becomes, “So how did you and Papa fall in love?” at which point Eddie, who’d been fielding their daughters' questions so Steve could keep his focus on the stop-and-go highway traffic, launches into a dramatic and involved retelling of how their relationship had begun nearly eighteen years ago.

“So I told him that I liked him and what do you think Papa said?” Eddie eventually asks as he approaches the end of the story.

“What?” the girls ask with eager smiles and wide eyes.

“Nothing,” Eddie says ruthlessly, a wicked grin on his face.

“Alright,” Steve cuts in over the laughter coming from the backseat, “Let’s not be dramatic. I said something...eventually, and it wasn’t even that long later – four hours tops.”

“That’s right,” Eddie concedes, “And then we all lived happily ever after and all that jazz.”

“Good,” Robbie says, “’Cos if you hadn’t, today wouldn’t happen.”

“Hate to break it to you, sweet pea,” Steve replies, “but I’m pretty sure Pride would still happen even if Dad and I weren’t there for it.”

“We wouldn’t be here," Moe corrects him, "All together.”

Steve blinks.

Jesus Christ, these kids are gonna be the death of him. Can’t drive the damn car if his eyes are misting over, can he?

“Yeah,” Eddie says as he reaches over to curve his hand around the back of Steve’s neck, “Yeah, bug, that’s true.”

And thanks goodness for that.

[yoonivy]

my house of stone, your ivy grows (and now i’m covered in you); part 7.

aemond targaryen x fem!reader

genre. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, drama, angst, fluff, smut. it’s a y/n fic but no use of y/n. heavily inspired by taylor swift’s ‘ivy’.

When a fierce blizzard ravages the North, a certain dragon rider gets caught up in it and crashes onto Bear Island.

And right to you, the youngest daughter of House Mormont.

warnings. angst

01| 02 | 03 | 04| 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11

----

“Welcome back… Lady Mormont.”

Time has frozen.

At least that is what it feels like as soon as you laid your eyes on Aemond.

Your mouth parts after a dry swallow, as if parched for so long and his visage is the water that will sustain you. All you could do is stare upon him and drink in your fill.

You have thought about this moment happening for so long. Of what you will do when you see him again. Yet none of your previous fantasies seem appropriate anymore — not with his arm wrapped around your dearest friend’s waist and your husband so close by your side. 

So you just stare, open faced and vulnerable. 

The look on your face has Aemond narrowing his gaze. Quizzical or suspicious, you cannot tell. 

(Shouldn’t you be able to tell? You used to read him like an open book.) 

But you can only guess that he is as astonished as you are by this surprising reunion. 

“Actually, your Grace,” Jeremy pipes up.  “My wife goes by Lady Strong now.”

Aemond hums noncommittally and does not even spare Jeremy a glance, keeping his gaze and attention solely on you. It is as if he did not even hear him, reminding you of the time Aemond rudely interrupted your dance with Jeremy all those years ago. 

Perhaps your husband remembers it as well. He goes rigid beside you. 

So you slip your hand into his, meeting his gaze with a reassuring smile. Jeremy returns it, his finger flexing against yours before he squeezes your hand tightly. 

The prince does not miss even a millisecond of this exchange, and when you turn back to face him, you are met with the most unenthused scowl. 

There was a time when you could have just pinched it off his face with a laugh. Where did that time go? How did it end up like this?

It makes your stomach turn how strange this feels. It hurts so much…  but all you could do is grin and bear it. 

You pull your hand away from Jeremy to curtsy low towards Aemond, finally remembering that you had not even formally acknowledged him yet. 

“Prince Aemond, it’s wonderful to see you again,” you say with your head dipped low, eyes on the ground. 

“Is it, really?” You hear him question. “I apologize if I find that hard to believe, Lady Strong. You didn’t even invite me to your wedding! Did my invitation get lost somewhere on the way to me?”

Though it may sound lighthearted, you hear the subtle accusation in it. It has you flicking your gaze up at him, meeting his eye. Despite his smirk, you can clearly see the hurt in him. Hopefully he can see the pain you have been carrying as well. 

“How do you two know each other?” Alys questions, her confused gaze darting between you and Aemond. 

Your mouth parts, about to answer… But the words would not come out, dying at the tip of your tongue.

What can you even say? What are you and Aemond now?

“It is the duty of the Prince Regent to know the people that lord over our glorious lands,” Aemond supplies. “So of course I know about the Mormonts of Bear Island. I had visited a couple times as a child and got acquainted with the Mormonts,” he turns to you with a tight smile, hands clasped together behind his back as he dips his body your way, “isn’t that right… Lady Strong?”

It is not entirely wrong, but it did not seem right either. The nonchalant and broad way he explained your relationship felt so impersonal that you cannot help but feel a strong pang of sadness deep in your heart. 

“Right,” you answer hoarsely, taking a swallow since your throat felt tight and blinking rapidly since your eyes are threatening to water. The latter does not work, but you are blessed by a distraction by the name of Talia. The young Lady Strong runs to you and you bend to your knees to catch her, hugging her closely and your tears disappearing into her curls.  

It did not take you long to realize that the little girl is crying too. 

“Oh, angel…” you coo sympathetically, pulling away to wipe the tears on her cheeks with the pad of your thumb on both sides of her face. Your face falls as you take in her bloodshot eyes and look of absolute distraught — it’s clear that her tears are beyond just seeing you and Jeremy again. It is something else. 

Unbeknownst to you, Aemond watches with a knot in his stomach, looking between you and the little girl and wondering if she’s… he looks towards Jeremy, then back at the little girl. 

They have many similarities — chestnut brown curls and honey brown eyes. Definitely favouring the Strong features and yet none of the Mormonts. 

There is a bitter taste in Aemond’s mouth, his mouth pulling back in a scowl. 

In another world, a better world, she would have had pearlescent silver hair and your eyes. 

The Prince Regent shakes away the thought just as Jeremy picks up the little girl, the both of you coddling her closely, asking her what is wrong. 

The girl is in shambles, unable to explain as she stutters and hiccups through her tears.

“What about ‘We have a lot to discuss’ did you lot not understand?” Comes a booming voice. 

Everyone turns to the clearly vexed Ser Simon, who had just noticed that no one had been following him. 

“Apologies, grandfather,” your husband says, passing the little girl over to you. 

Ser Simon’s hard stare did not move away from you, disapproving as always. What have you done now, you wonder. “And Talia. I told you to stop with the tears. Crying to your aunt and uncle will not bring your father and mother back. You have to grow up now.”

A soft gasp startles out of you at the sudden devastating news, looking over to find your husband’s heartbreaking expression. His mouth opens, as if he was about to ask his grandfather to repeat what he had just said, like he could not believe what he had just heard, but no words came out. 

Your gaze sharpens into a heated glare at the man who spoke the deplorable words, holding the little girl more closely as she sobs against your chest, though she tries to keep it quiet this time. 

An agonizing pain throbs your heart, for your niece and your husband. 

You step closer towards Jeremy, hoping your presence is comforting enough. You can’t imagine how he is feeling. If you lost any of your siblings…

You could not even think of that right now.

Behind you, Aemond lets out a breath of relief that he had not known he had been holding. 

---

You are unsure if it is because you are a woman or because the castellan of Harrenhal does not care much for you, but you were not allowed to take part in the discussion. Frustratingly, you think it might be because of both reasons. 

The sun is already starting to set and yet your husband still has not returned to your chamber. He has already been gone for a few hours and it has you anxiously pacing around the room. 

Harrenhal had been attacked — that you can conclude by the injured and the repairs being done around the castle. But what of the riverlands? Or Hornhill? If a clash had broken out in Harrenhal, surely those areas would not have been left untouched. 

Worrying your lips, you stare out the window, wishing you had the gift of sight to see miles and miles beyond. 

Remembering Forrest’s letter to Braeden, a sinking feeling of dread settles in your stomach

Are your siblings alright? The invisible strings that ties you all together seem to be pulled taut and loose at the same time. But you are sure it is just in your head. As much as you try to put on a smile and stay optimistic, you are always just worried now, always stuck on the worst case scenarios. 

The door of the room opens just before you go mad with any more dreadful thoughts. 

Turning away from your spot by the window, you watch as Jeremy steps in, weary eyed and appearing more exhausted than the last time you saw him. You meet him halfway across the room, your steps hurried while his are slow. When close enough, you reach for his arms as his own find their place on your waist. 

Before you could even get a word out, Jeremy's face crumbles, it is as if he had been holding back this whole time he had been gone. He finds home with you, his face hidden in the crook of your shoulder, breaks down while he tells you through aching sobs about the fate of his brother, his friends, and many other people he had grown up with due the attack of the Blacks. 

As you hold him tightly, you tell yourself that in due time, Jeremy will tell you everything you need to know. But for now, you lead him to your marital bed and let him seek solace in your comforting embrace.

---

A couple days pass and you were correct, Jeremy tells you all that he knows once he is ready. He informs you that the Greens are brokering a peace deal with the Riverland houses, and that he is sure that the Tully’s will accept it. Though about the Reach – and Horn Hill, specifically – he had no news. Nothing at all. You don’t know whether that should relieve you or worry you more. 

Your husband has no reason to lie to you. 

So could Forrest’s intel be wrong? 

It does not make sense seeing as your older brother is part of the Queensguards, but you desperately hope that is the truth. 

You decide to take your mind off it for now before you go mad. 

There are still repairs to be done. Injured people to nurture back to health. And the children — oh you know they would love for a distraction and normalcy for this confusing yet terrifying time, and resuming your art lessons would surely bring that. 

You’ve neglected your self appointed duties since your return to Harrenhal, only leaving your bedchamber a few hours a day before you find yourself running back to the safety of it. 

It must be exhaustion from the long travel. 

It must be lightheadedness from the remembrance of death all around you. 

It must be the feeling of vivid violet like goosebumps on your skin, the wisp of blanche from the corners of your vision —

But you do not want to hide away anymore. So you start your day at the medical bay, offering your aid wherever the maesters see fit. 

You make makeshift gauze out of old yet newly washed clothing. You help dress wounds. You feed those who are not able to by themselves. And when one of the maesters needed more dreamwine, you offered to be the one to get more. 

That is how you find yourself standing like a statue right at the open apothecary door.

It had not been your intention. But you realize as soon as you step into the apothecary and freeze suddenly in place when you see your dear friend, that you had been avoiding her. 

You have seen Alys around. Out the window of your bedchamber as she walks across the courtyard, the prince regent by her side. In the dining hall, the two of them sharing a meal. In the common room, absorbed in reading separately while sitting so intimately side by side that Alys was practically on his lap. Wherever Alys is, Aemond is surely close by.

Perhaps that is the reason why you had not dared to approach her.  

But right now Alys is surprisingly alone and none the wiser about your guilty stagnant hovering by the doorway. The raven haired beauty is too preoccupied with her work. 

Your eyes water at the sight of her, mouth pulling down into a wavering pout. You miss her so, so much. Yet you’ve been hiding from her because of what? A long lost love who you have not seen in years ?

You’ve moved on. You really have… With Jeremy.

It is clear that Aemond has moved on as well — and with your best friend. You should be happy for them.

No. You are happy for them.

… Aren’t you?

You do not have the time to reflect on your conflicting feelings — not when you hear your name being called, and when you look up, you meet Alys fox-like gaze. There is an uncharacteristic small yet kind smile on her lips, one she reserves just for you. “… what are you doing standing over there?”

You clear your throat and put on a smile, finally taking a step into the room. “I apologize. I did not want to bother you.”

Alys shakes her head. 

“You are never a bother, my lady… Actually, I was going to seek you out after I let this batch of sweetsleep simmer,” she says as you make your way beside her. 

Close now but not too close, you watch her stir the pot in front of her one last time before putting a lid on it. She turns to you then, “I finished the medicine for your father last night and sent it out early this morning.” 

She leans in closer, and you catch the gleam of mischievousness in her eyes as she whispers, “threatened the courier to make haste as well, so hopefully it will get to your father sooner rather than later.”

With those words, every disconcerting thought you were having fades away, replaced once again with only appreciation and admiration for Alys.

An emotional feeling of gratitude overtakes you as you take a hold of her hands. “Thank you, Alys. I don't even know what I would do without you. I will forever be in your debt.”

Alys shakes her head with a soft smile, reaching up to gently tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear before she cups your face. “I want nothing from you except to know that your mind is at ease.”

You almost burst into tears. Instead, you tackle her into a tight hug.

“I really wanted to lessen your burdens,” Alys says, her hand stroking in a comforting manner against your back. “Especially after what happened here and at Hornhill.”

Her words give you a pause. You rear back slowly, meeting her eyes, your face pinched in confusion. “.... What… What happened at Hornhill?”

Now it is Alys’ turn to look bewildered. “Jeremy had not told you?”

Panic starts to set in you, heartbeat racing and breathing near hyperventilating. 

Told you what? Was there something to tell ?

“My Alys. There you are, I’ve been looking for you,” you hear distantly. It barely registers, not with the ringing in your ears. 

Alys ignores the newcomer as well and murmurs your name, full of worry. 

You step away from her, clearly already distracted with the thoughts in your head when you tell her, “I should go… have a word with Jeremy.”

“Yes. Of course. I’ll see you soon?”

You squeeze her hand once more, offering a smile and a nod before you turn away to leave the room.

As you pass by Aemond, you bow towards him though you quickly keep on walking. 

You don’t see how his hand reaches out in an attempt to stop you. Though before his fingertips could touch you, he drops his hand lamely by his side. 

The Prince Regent keeps his eye on you until he can not see you any longer. The ache in his chest grows. 

Another opportunity to be in your presence — gone , just like that. 

Disappointment does not even begin to cover it. 

---

You find Jeremy at the training yard.

Sometimes you forget how much the name Strong fits with your husband, when all he ever is sweet and soft-spoken with you.  

But as you watch him now, it is the one word you can think of to describe him. Strong , a solid and powerful force to be reckoned with. 

A protector. 

Is that why he had refrained from telling you about Hornhill? To protect you?

Jeremy barely budges when the man he is dueling with elbows him in the stomach, the abs on his stomach clenching as it absorbs the blow. He then easily turns things around in his favor, shoving the man to ground with a grunt and stabbing his sword right into the dirt beside the man’s head, thus ending the fight. 

A second later, the seriousness of the duel dissipates when they both laugh at the same time, Jeremy offering a hand to help the man up. 

Your hands come together to applaud for your husband, and his attention turns towards where you stand behind the fence. Meeting your gaze, his mouth widens into the most handsome smile. 

He jogs towards you, and you can not help but lose your breath at the sight of him. The way his bare upper body glistens with sweat and how his muscles are taut from the practice…

Swiftly, you shake the thoughts away that the heat between your legs try to distract you with. You remind yourself that you are here for an explanation and not anything else.

“Hey,” Jeremy greets, leaning across the fence that divides the two of you to kiss your cheek. “You’re up and about early this morning.”

“Thought I’d better start doing my part to help out,” you say with a shrug. 

He hums, reaching out to lay his hand on your shoulder, his thumb grazing along your clavicle. 

Ever since arriving back, Jeremy has been more physically affectionate. Always finding reasons to touch you, or sometimes, for no reason at all. You have a feeling you know what caused the sudden change. 

In truth, you had been enjoying the newfound possessiveness. 

Except right now. You can’t stomach his touch at the moment knowing he had been lying to you.

So you shrug his hand away, causing Jeremy to tilt his head and narrow his eyes in concern.

“Are you done with training?” You question, before he could get a word out. 

He glances behind him, and even though he does not seem to be — the others still clashing with one another — he turns back to you and says, “I could be.”

Nodding, you implore, “Please. We need to talk.”

With that, he jumps over the fence with practiced ease, and you pull him to a quiet corner of the courtyard. 

Alone and with no one around to eavesdrop, you get straight to the point. 

“I heard about Hornhill.”

The way Jeremy’s face falls in shock and the hard swallow he takes tells you everything you needed to know. But you press anyway, “Did you know?”

A long moment of silence passes before he nods sheepishly. 

Your heart wrenches. “Jeremy… why ?”

At the sound of your voice breaking, his does too when he starts to speak, “I… I did not want to worry you, my love. Believe me, if I knew any news about Jorah and Renee — good or bad — I would have told you right away. But, as of right now, I have nothing, just as I told you before,” he takes a hold of your hands, eyes pleading for you to understand why he had told the little white lie, pleading for you to forgive him. “The Tarly’s have been sending letters to families of fallen soldiers and villagers, and if Jorah was… gone , we would have gotten word of it by now.”

Red rims around his regretful gaze, and you know all too well the grief that had caused it. 

It had laid with you in bed every night since arriving at Harrenhal. It had your husband screaming in his sleep, dreaming of nothing but blood on the lifeless bodies of the people he loved. 

“Please, please, forgive me,” your husband begs, his honey brown eyes filled with tears. “I just did not want you to feel the way that I did — like I still do.”

Your lips thin, contemplating his words. Then you lace your hand with his. 

“Then tell me everything you know, my heart. And don’t spare any details this time.”

It’s not full forgiveness, but it’s a start. 

---

Aemond finds you in the kitchen, led there by the sound of your melodic and lively laughter drifting through the cold and bleak halls. 

He tried so hard not to seek you out. But his heart would always somehow lead him to where you are. 

It’s a conflict in his head. Yes, he still loathes you. Of course, he is still bitter. And there is no doubt that he still resents every inch of you. 

But for the past few weeks, every single day since the two of you find yourselves dwelling in the same place, Aemond’s subconscious would somehow find the time to search for you in the largest castle in all of Westeros and its hundreds of rooms.

The arduous task that he gives himself never deters him, for just one look at you — even for a passing second — is enough.

( You’re lying , the voice in his head mockingly laughs. You could never hate her and it is never enough. )

He stomps down the voice.  

So he never dared to come too close. Always just a little out of your sight. Drinking you in from afar. 

It's just you today, he notes as he watches in the shadows by the open doorway of the kitchen. No husband of yours following after you like a dog. 

There are a group of children surrounding you though, all in awe as you slice up the pie you had made with their assistance. 

The scent of the freshly baked pastry flows to him, causing a wave of nostalgia that pangs his heart. 

Aemond remembers the many times you and him had also helped your mother and Dorothea with making the Mormont’s special apple pie. 

He remembers peeling and slicing up the apples with you, offering up the slice most perfectly cut for you to pop in your mouth. Remembers accidentally dropping too much cinnamon into a small bowl, causing it to dust up into the air and into your noses, stinging your eyes as you sneeze and laugh and cough and whine out his name. Remembers sitting shoulder to shoulder, taking that first bite of the warm and delicious tart apple filling at the same time with a simultaneous hum of content, your elbow nudging him as your brows lift and your lips grinning as if to say we made that.

Smiling unbeknownst to himself, Aemond does not realize he got lost in the memories until the children are rushing past him. They are too engrossed and excitedly chattering amongst themselves that they do not see him standing there.

But someone does notice him.

“Prince Aemond?”

Your honeyed, sweet voice. His name. 

He has to take a sharp intake of air, his heart stuttering underneath its hollowed cage.

Although he is the one who sought you out and this is what he wanted, to be alone with you — it is too much.

(It is never enough.)

Plastering on a tight smile, Aemond turns towards you. 

The way he sets his eye on you has you feeling nervous. It is piercing. 

“I apologize for intruding, my Lady,” he drawls. “I was led here by the scent of the famous Mormont apple pie.”

But his gaze does not linger away from you for even a second.

“You are not intruding, your Grace…” you say, timidly twisting your fingers together. You glance back at the wooden counter behind where the pie rested, “Would you like a slice…?” Then you wince, remembering — ”Actually, there’s only one left and I’m afraid I already took a bite of it. But if that troubles you, I can make another—”

“I don’t mind sharing. We’ve done it before,” he interrupts you. A smirk starts to pull his lips.  “…I’ve devoured yours, remember?”

A shuddering breath escapes you, your face blazing with heat. 

You don’t believe he is talking about pies anymore. 

Turning away swiftly after clearing your throat, you don’t dignify the comment with an answer. It was highly inappropriate. But that doesn’t stop your chest from tightening at the image he put in your head. 

As you fuss around to plate up the last slice of pie, you feel his gaze following you. Leering so intensely that the crawl of it over your skin causes you goosebumps.

What was the word he used again? Devoured? 

Yes, it feels like he is devouring you whole . 

You are so in your head and nonplussed about your every move that you don’t even realize he was standing behind you — until you feel the weight of his touch on your lower back. 

They say that lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice, but Aemond’s touch is as electric and all too familiar. 

It causes a shiver to run down your spine, and you quickly flinch away from him as if struck. 

You fix an affronted glare his way, all it does is spread that infuriating smirk on his lips once again. 

If you didn’t know any better, he seems to be enjoying the fact that he is making you both nervous and agitated. 

“Shall we see if this compares to your mother’s and Dorothea’s?” He questions, tone cheeky, as he grabs a fork and cuts off a small piece.

“The children loved it.”

“They’re children ,” he remarks flippantly. The glare would have been the permanent fixture on your face if he had not said your name. But he did, and so your expression slacks, mouth gaping at the sound of your name on his tongue. It has been so long since you’ve heard his tongue wrapped around the syllables — he has always made your name sound like it is the prettiest song.

You are not sure if he had meant the familiarity or if it just slipped through accidentally. But he keeps prattling on, “They’ll eat anything tooth-achingly sweet and claim it is the Gods’ gift to mankind.”

“Wait a second…” Laughter fills the room, and you place a hand over your mouth to try to muffle it. “I think I recall this one dragon prince who had that revelation many, many times… He never learned though, not even when he would toss and turn all night because his tummy hurts and I had to keep him company, reading his favorite stories until he fell asleep.”

An annoyed huff through his nose is the only acknowledgment you get. It has you giggling until he brings the fork up into his mouth.

At the first bite, Aemond chews slowly, his expression giving away nothing. 

Anxiously waiting for the verdict, you begin to bite down at the corner of your lip.

You are not like your mother or your sister. Cooking and baking does not come second nature to you. Even boiled eggs are not safe in your care if you are not careful. 

On your visit to Bear Island, you would be by your mother’s side every time she was in the kitchen, making sure you follow the family recipes exactly how she does them. 

In all honesty, you have been scared that you will never measure up. Terrified that something will happen and you will never taste anything like what your mother makes ever again. 

But then Aemond lets out a steady hum, his eye closing as his head tilts up to the ceiling — captivating your attention so easily. His jaw is working like he is savoring it. And when he swallows, his neck — his beautiful neck — bobs elegantly. 

Ethereal. 

Aemond breathes in deeply, then opens his eye — lashes fluttering prettily — and sets it on you.

“It’s good,” he compliments, in a tone so soft you almost thought you had dreamt it. 

“It tastes exactly how I remember it.”

He smiles then, sweet, unlike the arrogant or cruel smirks that only graces his features lately. 

It is the smile of your Aemond. 

Just that one smile was enough to break down the walls that had built itself between you two — at least for you. 

So you gift him one of your own. Wide, and brilliant, and blinding. 

The air in his lungs catches. The beating of his heart stops. 

Who said he needed his sight anymore? As if you are the sun, he is willing to stare upon you until he loses function of his remaining eye. 

The intruding thought does not last long. 

Aemond glances away, cursing himself. Cursing you. 

Is that really all it takes for him to forgive everything you had done to him?

A pretty smile, and nothing else?

Irritated at himself, he pushes the plate a little too forcefully towards you. 

“Oh.” You frown. “You don’t want any more?”

One look of your little pout has Aemond squeezing his hand into a tight fist. 

Weak. He is so weak. 

Unflexing his hand after he takes a moment to calm down, he sighs. “We’re sharing, remember?”

Tentatively, you break off a tiny piece to put in your mouth before nudging the plate back in his direction. 

Aemond rolls his eye, but does the same, only taking a little piece and then offering it back to you. 

This goes on for a while. The room is quiet save for the scraping of the fork on the plate. 

It is strange being here with Aemond like this. You almost think you might be dreaming. But he is real — your many secretive glances at him from the corners of your eyes made sure of it. 

The silence is killing you. Many unsaid things linger in the air, but you don’t know where to start. There was a time when you talked to him about anything and everything, now you are rendered mute in case of saying anything wrong or idiotic. 

Does he even want you to speak to him?

All the letters you have sent went unanswered, perhaps he wants it to stay that way. 

“I heard you went back home for a little while.”

In breaking the silence, Aemond also tears down your overthinking. 

There is a sudden lightness in your chest when you take in that he wants to talk to you. 

As you were about to answer, you remember you are still chewing, so your hand comes up to cover your mouth as you nod to answer him instead. 

Glancing down, Aemond huffs out a soft chuckle because of the look on your face. 

Lovely , might have been a passing thought, but he is trying to drown out the voice in his head at the moment. 

“How was that…?” He questions carefully. “How’s your family?”

“It was���” It takes you a moment to find the words on how you felt being back home — so many emotions overwhelmed you every single day you were on the island. With a faint smile, you finally settled on, “… something I really needed.”

You tell Aemond about your short time back on Bear Island. About your niece and nephew, about Braeden fully taking over as the Head of House Mormont, and so much more. He stands there and listens, hanging onto your every word. 

“I finally had the chance to tell my mother this… thing that I was too afraid to tell her through letters.”

It flashes in your mind — your palms pressed on your stomach, your tears of distress, your mother holding onto you while she murmured it’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with you, don’t you ever think that, my darling. 

You swallow the lump in your throat caused by the memory. 

“And seeing my father again…”

Maybe for the last time.

This time, the passing thought makes a few tears fall. 

Quickly, you wipe them away. “I apologize… I had not meant to dump this all on you.”

The awkward chuckle you let out dies in your throat when you feel Aemond step closer towards you. You glance wide eyed up at him through wet lashes just as his knuckles graze gently over your cheek. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says, catching the last of your tears. His touch lingers on your skin for a bit longer before he drops his hand — but his half-lidded gaze is still set on you. 

You tuck your hair behind your ear nervously. 

“And what about you, your Grace?”

“You’ve probably heard most of it.”

“Perhaps,” you answer. “But I’d rather hear it from you.”

Aemond lets out a low hum. “Then where shall I begin? With my brother, the supposed almighty and chosen king, and yet he’s injured beyond repair. Or my sister? There’s not much to say. She pretty much lost her mind further after losing her son. And I can’t forget about my mother…”

The look on your face is far too pathetic, Aemond thinks in disgust. So overtly pitying it makes his skin crawl. It makes him turn away from you, shamefaced. 

Don’t look to me like that — you have no idea what I’ve done to you and your family.

“I guess we’ve both missed a lot,” he comments with a sardonic laugh. “I suppose that is what happens when people drift apart.”

“I guess so…” you reply, frowning. 

But you don’t want it to stay that way. Your heart hurts thinking about it. 

“Aemond?” He looks towards you, catching your watery gaze again. “Can we…” Your hand grips on the edge of the wooden table, fingers tapping anxiously. “Can we start over?”

The request takes Aemond aback, gaze narrowing and head tilting in disbelief. 

Start over?

Just like that?

Like the past years did not matter? Like all his sleepless nights and anguish over you was for nothing?

Aemond nearly scoffs out loud — but then he really thinks it over.

Starting over and all that it entails… Being able to be by your side, to talk to you, to make you laugh once again… Which is everything he is secretly yearning for. As much as he loathes to admit it, it is true. 

The past few weeks have been sweet torture for the Prince Regent. You were all his rotten mind could think about, distracting every other thought in his head because of the fact you are finally so close. 

But to truly start over, everything should be laid out on the table, correct?

The damning confession is there, on the tip of his tongue…

Aemond bites back the words in cowardice, too afraid to face your ire. You despising him is the last thing he wants. Especially now that you are actually speaking to him, looking upon him with those eyes of yours he used to worship. 

So instead, he sucks in a breath and nods. 

“Alright… Let us start over.”

And when your pretty lips break into the sweetest smile he has ever seen, Aemond decides that although he made the wrong choice, it is one he does not regret making.

Aemond just wants to bask in your sun for a little bit longer before the inevitable happens — the day you find out the truth and hate him with all your guts until his final breath. 

Is that truly so wrong of him?

[haleigh-sloth]

Alastor, the wild card

Okay, I have to get this out because it's driving me nuts not having it written down.

I watched Hazbin Hotel. I watched the pilot 4 years ago, immediately liked Alastor. 4 years go by and he gets put on the back burner, but now that the main series has begun, oohhhhh boy.

This is basically just me laying out everything I think is going on with/going to happen with Alastor--the seeming wild card--and then what I ultimately think his end game will somewhat look like. Alastor has a lot of different little plot points going on with him, that all point in different directions, but I believe will all end up pointing at one specific ending. I'll go through the different plot directions tied to him in a list but not in the particular order I think they will occur, because I'm really not sure of that yet other than the last:

Beef with the Vees, Vox specifically

Lucifer

His deal, in other words his "leash"

His relationship to the hotel and everyone in it

His relationship to Charlie

Not a long list but a lot of thoughts altogether so here goes.

The Vees and Vox:

I'll start here, but this ties into other stuff later. The Vees, very much MOSTLY Vox and Valentino, are problems. They're these media industrial overlords who own people (it's such a mystery what type of modern-day issues these 3 characters are touching on), and they exploit, take advantage of, and harm people. They're clearly antagonists, even if not the main ones at this time. Now for the sake of keeping this about Alastor, we're gonna focus on Vox, because obviously they have past beef. We don't know ALL the details of what it is (aside from Alastor rejecting Vox's offer), but we know it resulted in a fight in which he "almost" beat Vox. And it seems they were on decent terms at one point, evidenced by what looks like Vox's head in this torn out photo that Vox had pinned to his board in the finale:

Alastor has an ego. He's an overlord. A highly regarded one, and he's obviously strong. He writes off pretty much everyone around him. He doesn't seem to be afraid of anyone, or even remotely bothered by people who show up to attack him or the hotel. He only shows any kind of acknowledgement of someone else's strength when he goes to the overlord meeting in episode 3. But outside of that, he does not seem to give anyone else the time of day.

So that's really funny considering that when Vox starts trash talking him on TV, he takes the bait and gets competitive. He goes on the air, he trash talks back, he gets personal with it. And when Vox loses signal, Alastor continues sending a final, very sinister warning.

And he's not being his usual joke-y self. He's being serious. He's turning into his Wendigo-looking form, which is quite scary looking. We're supposed to take him seriously here because he's not writing Vox off. He is, for lack of a better way of putting it, taking Vox seriously as an opponent. He's being usually egotistical, but he's still putting more effort into this little social media battle than he has for (almost) any other opponent. And not to mention, Vox was shown in the pilot:

So, while this was pretty much shelved for the reason of season 1, it's coming back. And it's going to be an issue for everyone, including Alastor.

Lucifer:

This is going to be my second favorite section of this post. Because it's hilarious, and also somewhat endearing to me how he reacted to meeting Lucifer. I'm sure people noticed, but when Lucifer walked in and hugged Charlie, the frame moved up to show Alastor's face, and his eye was twitching in that moment.

Then a moment later they shake hands, and he wipes his hand off on his coat. And later Lucifer bumps into his arm when walking past him and he brushes his arm off-again. Clearly, Alastor does not like Lucifer. Now, I'm like 100% sure there are yet-to-be-revealed reasons for this that have not even been remotely touched on (Lilith), but there are some obvious guesses we can make based on what we now have in season 1.

There's the fact that Alastor's ego is present here. He points out Lucifer's height, in a condescending way. So that's a thing, but I think it goes beyond that. I'll dive into Alastor and Charlie toward the end, but I do think Charlie is part of the reason for his behavior in episode 5. Alastor is showing off his additions to the hotel, but he isn't really boasting about himself at this point. He's being very pointed about giving Charlie all of the credit, and he is very intentional about saying what an "impressive young lady" she is and saying how "VERY proud" THEY (meaning him and the others there) are of her. It's very odd and hilarious that he's pulling all of this out in front of her dad. I mean, I have my guesses, but given that Alastor then starts challenging her dad in a sing-off, saying he's a dud of a parent, and just straight up saying he could be her dad--I'd say Lucifer's lack of effort in Charlie bugs the shit out of Alastor. I'll explain more on that later, though.

The last point I'll make here to transition into the next section is that I'm sure Lilith has something to do with this disdain for Lucifer. However, I'm really not sure what side of Lilith Alastor knows. My guess is it isn't a good side though.

Which brings me to Alastor's "leash", the handler being Lilith.

I mean, this feels as on the nose as the Dabi is Touya theories. Alastor's been gone for 7 years. Lilith has been gone for 7 years. Vestial said he heard a rumor Alastor fell into "holy arms". We know Lilith is chillin in heaven (but other people don't..so again, mystery). Alastor won't tell anyone why he was gone. We know someone owns Alastor in some way right now. I mean....it's gotta be Lilith. It could be a red herring and be a complete surprise later, but it feels like something very obvious that we just won't get to see for a while and will have to wait in anticipation. Lilith is not painted in the best light right this second, but honestly it's impossible to tell whether she's actually Not Great or if there's layers to this. My guess is probably a little of both.

Alastor being involved with the hotel could be because of Lilith. That also feels somewhat obvious, though again, I'll dive into Charlie in a second.

Hazbin Hotel:

Things start to somewhat all tie together here.

Okay let's take this back to the pilot when Alastor introduced himself to the show. He said he views the hotel as an investment for entertainment, and a lost cause, and something to laugh about. He repeats this in episode 1 to remind everyone that he still views Charlie's vision as something impossible to achieve and something to laugh at. Howeverrrrrr--

We shouldn't ignore the fact that ever since he showed up to "help", under the guise that he thinks the hotel is a joke, he has given a lot more than he had originally stated he'd intended. For someone supposedly who enjoys watching others fail and fall into misery, he sure does put a lot of effort into something he considers to be a massive joke. And the funny thing is that he says in the pilot that redemption is impossible, but we literally KNOW IT'S NOT. Sir Pentious immediately brings Alastor's motive for involving himself with the hotel into question. Of course we have no idea how much Alastor actually knows about redemption, but we can't disregard the very real possibility that he's involved with Lilith (holy arms) and the very real possibility that he's aware of her whereabouts (heaven). We don't know all of those details yet. But what we do know is that all of Alastor's efforts are fueling something that is working. SO HIS EFFORTS ARE MAKING A DIFFERENCE..

So I guess that brings me to--what does he actually think of the hotel? Like reeeeaaallly think of it?

His behavior throughout the 8 episodes shifts significantly from the pilot and episode 1 even. He repeats it's a joke in episode 1. And then continues to put genuine efforts into keeping Charlie from giving up even when things get tough and she feels really beaten down. (I'll tie this into why I think he dislikes Lucifer in the Charlie sections).

I also am questioning his real vision of the hotel because it is certainly not something to be ignored that he put Husker and Niffty into the hotel--the hotel about redemption and salvation. Yeah, he's an overlord. He owns their souls. But he's forcing them to stay in a hotel that we literally already KNOW is going to save them in some way. Husker and Angel have their thing going, which will be a good thing. Niffty has a group of people who will protect her, evidenced by episode 6. So, again, Alastor's efforts are all leading to Charlie's hotel being nothing but successful (in the end). But yet he says it's all a joke.

And I think the biggest hint at there being something more here is that Alastor willingly put himself against Adam. And we KNOW that Alastor is leashed somehow. His wings are "clipped". And he ran off to go have a quick little break down in private about almost being killed because of this. Obviously his powers are shackled per his deal.

And yet? He still pit himself against Adam. Knowing this about himself. He also DID almost die for them--his friends, if we can assume he really meant that (I think later on that will be the case). This notion obviously bothers him, a lot. He went to his broadcast station and freaked out over the fact that he really did almost die for them. And then he still went back, knowing that they know he lost his fight. What a blow to his ego! He's the only one who lost and they all know it because they had to deal with Adam after he left.

I won't write off the possibility that he has to be there per some deal (assuming it's Lilith), but that doesn't negate the fact that his demeanor toward the hotel and everyone there changed from beginning of season 1 to the end.

We don't know yet what Alastor really thinks, yet. That's internal and won't be shown until later. But I don't think it's wise to take his word for it from the pilot and from episode 1, and then ignore everything that came after when it's obvious his behavior shows something else entirely.

Lastly, his relationship to Charlie ties everything together.

Again, this started off as a joke to him. He SAYS that he thinks Charlie is working for something impossible. And yet throughout the season he's been shown to be really endearing toward her.

I think my favorite part showing this was him telling her in episode 7 that "It's not like you've ever failed to inspire before." He meant himself. Because in that same sequence Charlie says she usually sings to get her point across but it never works. Except it did, because that's literally what brought Alastor to her doorstep.

That, plus Alastor's obvious disdain for her father that he shows when she isn't looking (the eye twitch), him trying to motivate her from giving up when she's all depressed, him singing about her with Rosie. I think he genuinely admires her and finds her inspiring, and genuinely likes her. Which is really interesting when you look at how he reacted to the presence of her father, and when you consider the very real possibility that he's very much indebted to her mother. Their dynamic is by far my favorite because Alastor is just very NOT easy to read.

However there is a problem that will come up later, and it's the deal he made with Charlie.

So now I'll try to tie everything together:

Alastor has this unsettled business with Vox. He isn't going to let it go. It's going to be a problem somehow. Alastor is stuck in a deal with someone, it's going to be a problem somehow. Alastor now has an unfulfilled deal with Charlie. It's going to be a problem somehow. Alastor hasn't made any vocal admittance that he doesn't view the hotel as a joke, so his front about it being impossible is still kind of there, and that's coupled with the fact that we know he's wrong. All of these things are obstacles to what I'm PRETTY SURE is going to be the hotel's final and biggest obstacle and success:

redeeming Alastor.

Before I go further I'm going to touch on the pilot here.

There are three very bold statements made in the pilot:

"Inside of every demon is a rainbow."

"Inside of every demon is a lost cause."

"He can't be redeemed."

Who is right?

Well, CHARLIE is the heart of the show. The core of what the show wants to portray--redemption and salvation. (Hams is probably right that she is a Jesus figure). I think the odds are in her favor. ALASTOR made a statement that we now have very solid undeniable evidence disproving, now that season 1 is over. So he's out. VAGGIE ended up having a dark and painful secret that she's done unforgivable things to Charlie's home. And yet, she's making the judgment call about Alastor? I think she's out. And also, her statement is the introduction to one of the biggest challenges in the show for Charlie. Because Charlie believes in the opposite of what Alastor and Vaggie are saying. And like I said, the odds are in Charlie's favor.

Now, Alastor obviously doesn't seem like the type to want redemption, or strive for that. Because I'm pretty sure he's not. For now, on the surface. There are a lot of negative things in his way. His beef with Vox and his deal shackling his powers that he wants freedom from. And I'd honestly bet money that those things will all stand in the way of Charlie redeeming him because he'll be focused on these things that keep him from wanting to do better and change--even though throughout season 1 he already showed slow but undeniable signs of changing, whether he wants to admit it or not.

But I think the point of his arc is to end up being someone who does want better. I think his obvious liking for Charlie is something that will save him from a dark and desperate place, a place we've kind of already gotten a peak into. And I think that at the end of the day, every ounce of effort he put into the hotel for Charlie, under the guise of it being for his entertainment, will all end up helping him the most out of everyone in the end.

And I'm very excited.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not telling my ex-best friend that she's not invited to my wedding? (🚫👰‍♂️ for reference)

Light context, I (20s X) used to be very close with this girl we'll call F (20s F) for close to 15 years. We had a few falling outs in high-school but maintained a casual friendship afterwards as we went into college and beyond. From a really young age, we both made the promise to each other that we'd be each other's maid of honor at our respective weddings, and that promise would be occasionally referenced during our friendship (yknow, typical bff things).

To make a very long story short, the last chunk of our friendship I started acknowledging that she really wasn't the best influence on me and really worked to make everyone around us believe her narrative about our friendship (things like lying for years about how we became friends and refusing to acknowledge the correct story, or inserting herself into my family, including during a really traumatic time and she got upset when people weren't asking her about how much she was upset, things like that ect.). I had given up even trying to argue against it so I'd agree with her on a lot of it.

She was engaged a few years ago and ended up asking me to be her MOH, which I accepted at the time. What ended up happening was that the wedding was canceled, and I never got my dress I had pulled money from my savings to pay for, nor the money back.

I made the conscious decision at that point to start to distance myself from her, both in person and on the phone, but would still losely message her if I knew she was the best person to talk to about something. When I first started dating my fiancé, F was one of the main people I talked to about our budding relationship.

It's been several years now, and I have basically stopped interacting with F on all accounts. I found out from an old high-school friend that apparently she still tells people we're really close and hang out all the time, which I was quick to clarify wasn't true.

Here's where I feel like I could be TA: in all these years of me slowly backing away, I've avoided ever actually telling F that I wasn't comfortable with us interacting anymore, and I wasn't even sure I wanted to have her at the wedding. This is because she's been known to do some pretty drastic things in the past and cause scenes, and I really didn't want to deal with possible fallout, and now it's gotten so late that it feels harder and harder to do.

We had our first conversation in like 8 months recently with a few snaps where she showed off her new engagement ring and then asked about how wedding planning was going and when she was going to get asked and invited to it. I kinda let the question flop and never really responded, but now I know it's still on her mind.

The whole wedding party has already been chosen, as has our guest list, and F and her fiancé aren't on it. I feel like I should try to tell F at this point that I don't feel comfortable inviting her, but I really just want the whole situation to die out and would rather somehow miraculously get married without F even hearing about it until it's already done (which is basically impossible since F is still social media friends with my mom). At this point, I still have no plans to tell F that she's not part of the wedding, nor is she invited. I am genuinely worried she'd crash it if she found out where it was happening, but I'd rather take that risk and not mention it at all, despite it being a childhood promise when we were actually friends.

So, AITA for not telling her that I've been uncomfortable with our friendship and don't want her at all in or at my wedding?

What are these acronyms?

[whositmcwhatsit]

Enjoyable Slide to Oblivion

Like a lot of girls, Chancy Crawford had once been able to call herself one of Elvis's girlfriends, but that was long time ago. Now, she called herself his friend, or his 'cousin' if any of his girlfriends asked. It was just easier that way. And their relationship was all about being comfortable and easy. Until she gets asked to come and join a tour that seems endless and cursed.

AN: I'm not sure if anyone remembers I used to write silly stories, but here's the next installment of one I have neglected for too long. Thank you to everyone who continued to patiently message and let me know how much they liked the characters and very politely ask for the next chapter.

Thanks to @thatbanditqueen for injuring herself in order to give me motivation. And reading to check that I still remembered how to type words. You might need to remind yourself what happened before: Chapter 11 Chapter 12- Move Across the night sky, with those anonymous lights.

Pulling up to the gate of one of Elvis’ homes always invoked a strange combination of emotions in Chancy no matter how often she visited. Maybe it was the fact that there was always, always, at least a few people standing around ogling her curiously, but there was also the insecurity that this might be the time that the gates would not open for her, and the pride she felt at how much he had achieved, as well as an undeserved sense of personal achievement that she knew someone who had so much. That last one always made her feel guilty. 

Harold kept her waiting, pretending that he needed to come to the window of her Chevrolet to see who she was and then saying he would have to call up to the house to check it was okay.

“Can’t be letting in just anyone, you know.” He went to the gatehouse and the gate began to open immediately. She smiled and pretended to be amused by his trick as she rolled past. 

Chancy pulled up around the back near to the fence where the staff parked. Her car fit in better there than next to the limo and the Lincolns and the cadillacs. She glanced in the rear view mirror and checked her make-up hadn’t slid off her face in the humidity. Her air conditioning was busted, again- it only ever seemed to happen in the summer, a cosmic joke or a punishment. 

Grabbing her two small, yellow travel cases, she swung the door shut with her hip and sighed, trying to force her heart to slow down by denying it oxygen. Just a visit, just a visit, she focused on the words and willed her heart to follow their rhythm. 

“Well, hello there, Chancy.” She started and dropped one of her cases as Mr Presley approached her from the office, a smile on his plump face. He had that end of the day twinkle in his eye and Chancy mused how, between his twinkle and Mrs Presley’s dancing glow in her brown eyes when she was laughing, it was no wonder Elvis could incapacitate people with just a glance.  

“Hi, Sir, it’s good to see you again!” She went to grab her fallen luggage, but Vernon reached it first and picked it up, adjusting his grip and miming like the case was heavy. 

“My Lord, what do you have in here?!”

“Well, you know now a girl can’t give away the secrets needed to make her presentable, it’d spoil the magic, wouldn’t it?” 

“I guess it would,” he agreed, still smiling slightly. “Though I reckon I need some magic to help this ole mug.” 

“Nonsense! I was just about to ask you for your secret!” 

Chancy could do this all day. In fact, she did do this all day; most of her job was buttering up clients and making them feel good about themselves. The fact that there was a slight ache to her cheeks as she smiled now was proof of how hard she worked. 

“Well, you always were a sweet girl,” he returned, glancing over his shoulder at the house and tightening his lips. “Let me walk you in, I know Elvis is expecting you.” He reached out for her other case and she let him take it, puzzled since Vernon didn’t usually go out of his way to be helpful or even really acknowledge her much past a short, pleasant greeting. 

On the way, they made small talk about the weather, which was the law in civilised society. One of them remarking on the heat, the other saying that it had to break soon. Debating whether it was hotter or cooler than previous years and then exchanging stories of the most extreme heat they had ever encountered. He told her about a time when he was a young man down in Mississippi and he was doing some work for a man who wore a hairpiece. The day got so hot that the glue melted and the hair started slipping when he spoke. No one was brave enough to tell him and lose the job. He mimed the man’s hair flying back and forth and how they had to all fight to keep their eyes from flicking from side to side with it. His laughter at his own story was infectious. 

As they came in through the back door, he paused in the dim back hallway. Somewhere nearby she could hear a football game being played on television and men’s voices rising and falling as they questioned plays and commiserated. 

“You know, it sure is good to see you, Chancy. Elvis’ mother always used to speak so highly of you and how well you took care of him.” He left the rest unspoken, looking behind him to the stairs to the basement, and then turning back and nodding at her. 

“Thank you, Mr Presley,” she smiled, a little puzzled. She awkwardly fished back her cases and wondered if he was working up to something, and if she should wait. 

Instead, he opened the door to the kitchen and motioned her in, wishing her a good night. 

In the kitchen, Elvis’ aunt Delta was complaining about trying to buy something and how they had raised the price when she gave them the delivery address. 

“Shouldn’t matter if it’s Tom, Dick or Elvis, if it’s fifty dollars it should stay fifty damn dollars. The nerve of people!” Her little dog was yipping and bouncing around her feet, excited by the heightened emotion in her voice. Mary, Elvis’ cook, her coat on like she had been trying to leave for some time, agreed with her, nodding her head wholeheartedly. 

They both turned to look at Chancy as she paused by the counter with a faint smile of anticipation. It was always a roll of the dice which side of Delta you would get, but that evening was a good day, because they exchanged greetings and Chancy was invited into the story of the new chair that had started out as fifty dollars and became one hundred once it was destined for Graceland. 

“One hundred dollars, my ass! I said, it’s for me, not Elvis and we both of us have enough sense not to waste another fifty dollars on some piece of-” 

The phone rang on the wall by where Delta was sitting at the breakfast bar and she snatched it up, listened for a minute, and then nodded to her. 

“Elvis said to go ahead and go on up.” 

Chancy had to temper her speed as she moved through the kitchen, heading towards the back stairs.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get your chair,” she shrugged, stepping onto the first tread. 

“Oh honey, I got the chair, and a little table to boot. Soon’s I told ‘em that I’d go home and say what a rat-infested flea-ridden store they had and how we ain’t never gonna shop there again, we got the friends and family discount too.” 

“Well, they’ll know better than to mess with you next time, Mrs Biggs. I might need to get some tips from you for when I have to negotiate with my suppliers.” 

As she was climbing the stairs, she heard Delta say: 

“Honey, I don’t think you need any help from anybody trying to get anything.” 

Her foot momentarily faltered as her body wanted her to stop and march back down, but her brain won out just barely and forced her to continue her climb. By the time she had opened and closed all the doors that marked her journey, she was pretty sure she had knocked her case into her left shin enough times to leave a bruise, and she paused just inside Elvis’ office to run a finger under each eye to catch the slowly dripping mascara. She tapped on the door and waited to hear a low murmur of assent before she pushed the slightly ajar door open. 

Elvis was sitting on his enormous bed with the newspaper laid out before him, apparently deeply engrossed in it, though she knew he had to have been watching the monitors at least a couple of minutes ago to know that she had arrived. 

“Oh no! I think there’s been some mistake!” she lisped in a high voice. “The man at the reception desk said that this was my room.” She whirled around, wide-eyed, in the doorway. “This is room 385631.6 and half, right?” 

Elvis smirked, his lips and cheekbones all curves as his eyes narrowed. His voice was a little thick like his tongue was still waking up.  

“Damn, they must’ve double booked the rooms again, and, you know, I heard the clerk say that they were full up, no vacancies.” He clenched his jaw and shook his head like he was genuinely upset and disappointed in the ‘hotel’. 

“Right,” she responded. “I guess that’ll be because of the convention?” 

He nodded, rising slowly and stepping closer to her, his fingertips tickling her wrist. 

“Uh huh, right, the, uh, One-eyed Albino Python Lovers of America convention,” he nodded, turning away as he almost broke. 

“Oh, yeah, that’s a popular one,” she murmured, hearing him snort over his shoulder, and fighting to keep her face straight. 

“Well,” he sighed with a sense of inevitability, turning back to her. “I guess there’s only one thing for it.” He shrugged with his whole body, throwing up his arms. “We’ll just have to share the room.” 

“That seems like that’s all there is to it,” she agreed in her ditsy high voice.

“You sure your boyfriend won’t mind, uh, Miss…?”

“Tallulah-Wanda, and I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“You don’t, huh. Well, I guess I’m just fixing problems all over the place tonight.” He pulled her into a clinch worthy of one of his movies, dipping her down so that she dropped her cases and grabbed his shoulders for safety. They broke apart and smiled breathlessly at each other for a minute. 

“One-eyed Albino Python Lovers,” she muttered, slapping his shoulder. He smirked and pulled her back up. 

“What? I’m telling ya, Tallulah baby, it’s a real group.”

“Uh huh, and I bet you’ve met quite a few members.” 

“I meet a lot of people,” he replied evasively. He grabbed her jaw and kissed her hard on the mouth. “How was your day?” 

She paused, surprised by the question. “Uh, it was fine, thank you for asking. How was yours?” 

“Honey, I woke up less than two hours ago,” he pointed out, with a wry lift of his eyebrow. 

“Right, right, I’m in the Elvis time zone now. Gotta adjust my clock accordingly. How was your breakfast?” He rolled his eyes and tugged her towards him, cradling the back of her head as he kissed her. 

“That’s enough of that,” he murmured, though he didn’t elaborate on what ‘that’ was, just steered her around and nudged her backwards towards the bed. “Gotta unwrap my present here.” He tugged on her pale pink pussycat bow, teasing the ends out from where they were tucked into her low scooped waistcoat and pulling the loose knot free. 

“You want me to give you my scarf?” she murmured, keeping her voice low to hide how affected she was. “Hmm, that’s a twist.” 

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, but he seemed absorbed in his task, letting her silky scarf flutter off to the side as he studied her. She returned the favour, noting how fair his lashes looked in the daylight. His face was fuller, maybe because he hadn’t been well, but his colour was better than when she had last seen him at her house. 

Biting his lip slightly, he unbuttoned her waistcoat, but there was nothing seductive or gentle about his movements. She genuinely felt like a gift given to an overexcited six year old. The waistcoat went in the other direction to her scarf, quickly followed by her heels. 

“I’ll show you where your things are,” he said, pulling away and holding out a hand. She had to tamp down a smile as she let him lead her, padding behind him in her stockinged feet. 

That morning, she had deliberately dressed up in her most businesslike outfit, stopping just short of wearing pants, because she knew he wouldn’t like it. Not to antagonise him exactly, but there had definitely been something pointed in her choice. Some barbed reminder that she was a whole person with a successful, fulfilling life that went on out of his sight line. She wasn’t one of the no doubt many girls around the country just waiting for his call, their life outside of him just filler that happened between their time with him. 

In the ‘guest’ dressing room off his office, he showed her the row of plastic covered outfits that he had bought her on tour as if they had been there ever since he returned and not, as was more likely, hastily moved in that day after the last girl had left. 

“You don’t like what I’m wearing?” she asked as he hovered in the doorway. He shifted uncomfortably and opened his mouth, clearly still formulating his reply. “I’m teasing you. Go on now, let me change.”

“Oughta tan your hide,” he muttered, giving her a sideways look as he retreated from the door. “Don’t change your hair.” 

“Saying please don’t hurt you know!” she called out the door. 

“I know!” he hollered back from presumably the bedroom. 

In the small dusky pink dressing room, Chancy deliberately did not touch any drawers, no matter how painfully her curiosity niggled at her. She tried to be as dispassionate as she would be in a communal dressing room, which, essentially, it was. She made sure not to make a mess and folded her own clothes neatly, putting them back into her case. 

There were a few toiletries sitting on top of the dressing table and she leant over them in order to apply more make up to her eyes, appreciating the good lighting. When she had finished, she checked that she had not left a trace and came back out into the office. 

Elvis was sat at his desk with Joe standing over him and murmuring into his ear, his arms spanning the desk and the back of Elvis’ chair. His broad back blocked Elvis from her view. The body language could not have been clearer. 

Without stopping, she tiptoed past them towards the bedroom, still holding her bags. 

“Hey, what are you doing?” Elvis snapped over the top of Joe’s low mumbling. Chancy glanced over her shoulder almost guiltily. 

“Going in there? I got changed like you said.” Elvis visibly relaxed, his face smoothing and shoulders dropping. 

“I thought you were ducking out on me. What you got your bags there for?” 

“I didn’t want to leave all my things lying about. I’m trying to change my messy ways, you know.” He shook his head and waved his hand back towards the dressing room. 

“No, go ahead and put everything in there, honey, that’s yours.” She hesitated, but Joe had already resumed his whispering and Elvis was frowning at the console of his desk with its screen and knobs and switches. So, she tucked her cases inside the door of the dressing room and speed-walked past them back into the bedroom. 

The curtains were closed and, though the lamps were lit, the room still felt dark to Chancy. This was not helped by the enormous bed that was clad in black every way from the headboard to the bedcovers. She perched on it primly, her feet barely skimming the floor. She didn’t like that, being reminded that she was short. It made her feel like the room was patting her on the head somehow. 

Instead, she pushed off the bed and scanned the shelves of the units, smiling a little at the framed photos of a blond little girl and running her finger over the ornaments, some of them clearly from fans. 

There were a few records scattered around the record player, their labels a mess of scrawled handwriting that revealed them to be demos. And there were books, piles and piles of books with fuzzy, slightly scary titles like ‘The search for…’, ‘A Study of…’, ‘Explore the world of…’ 

One caught her eye, a small, slim volume with exotic gold patterns etched into the worn covers. She glanced up at the door before she opened it to the foreword. It was Sufi poetry translated from the original Persian. Chancy pressed her fingers to the pages in wonder, trying to make it fit into the already complex and contradictory picture of Elvis she held in her mind.

The man himself burst into the room, slamming the door shut behind him, but he stopped short when he saw her standing by the shelves as if he had forgotten she was in there. She could see him biting down and breathing hard, his nostrils flaring, like he was trying to change gears while still accelerating.

She didn’t say anything, looking back down at the book and reading the first poem silently to herself, giving him time to collect himself without being observed, to leave without feeling obligated or ask her to leave. She felt him as he drew close to her, his chest brushing her shoulder. 

“It’s good, you should borrow it when I’m done,” he said quietly, calmly. She smiled as she took her hand away from the page and turned towards him.

“What’s it about?”

“I- I can’t exactly say,” he shrugged. “It makes me feel like words and ideas, even sermons and laws, they’re just getting in the way and confusing people, distracting them from the truth and the real essence of God, you know. I-I-I ain’t saying it right, but the guys in this book, they pull back the curtain, you know, and you feel like you’ve caught a glimpse of something, just for a moment, that’s greater and truer than anything else.” 

Chancy tilted her head, letting that sink in.

“I do think I’d like to read it after you, thank you.” He leant past her and picked it up.

“Here, take it, honey. I can get another. Ignore the scribbling though, sometimes I just gotta work things out in my head. Try and get things straight, you know.”

“No, Elvis, I can’t, not if you’re enjoying it! I can wait until you’re done.”

“Baby, I want you to. Like I said, I can get another. And we can talk about it when you’re done reading it. I don’t- I don’t have no one I can discuss these things with. They all just get this damn pie-eyed look on their faces like ole Elvis’s gone nuts and they don’t know who to call to fix it.” He crossed his eyes and pulled a silly face while he pushed the book into her chest until she took hold of it. 

“That’s dumb,” she murmured, cradling the book to her chest. “Everyone knows you already went crazy years ago.”

“Yeah, well whose fault was that,” he returned, gritting his teeth and pushing his forehead against hers, smushing the tip of her nose. She wrapped her arms around his waist and drew him closer, simultaneously loving and resenting the almost painful wave of relief that rolled over her as she nestled into his arms and felt his soft lips brush against hers. The big sigh he let out as he squeezed her in tighter at least let her know that she wasn’t alone in this comfort trap. 

“I missed this silly little face,” he murmured, one hand gripping her jaw playfully but gently. 

“Really? This one?” She crossed her eyes and scrunched up her nose, tightening her lips so that it looked like she had buck teeth. 

In response, he wrapped one big hand over her face and put a little pressure into it, nudging her backwards. She went with it, trusting him not to have her tumbling on her butt down the stairs. The side of the bed pressed into the back of her legs and she grabbed him by the biceps to stop herself from falling backwards. 

“You missed me too, right?” he almost whispered, leaning down to kiss her again. “Tell me you missed me, Cha Cha.” 

Chancy heard her own voice as if it came from far away, muffled and almost whiny with longing. 

“I missed you, Elvis.” She continued to kiss him even as he turned his head slightly. She could feel his cheek bunch beneath her lips as he smiled, enjoying her affection. “I missed you, I missed you.” She felt his faint stubble grazed against her lips as she let them trail down his cheek and under his jaw. He was bent slightly at the knees so that she could reach, rubbing his thumb around in little circles on her back. Her awareness narrowed to only those points of sensation, the thumb circles on her back, the tingle on her lips, the warmth down her front. 

The phone started trilling. They both looked at it blankly for a second, before Elvis straightened and sighed, going to answer. 

Whatever was being said on the other end of the line irritated Elvis, he mumbled one word answers until he slammed the receiver back onto the hook. 

Without a word, he disappeared into his bathroom and left her yet again wandering around his room, running her fingers over his belongings and trying to pretend that she belonged there. She opened her new book at a random page and let her eyes trip across the words:

“That’s how you came here, like a star,

Without a name…”

She had no idea what it meant, but it sounded beautiful. She murmured it under her breath, finishing with a sharp inhale as Elvis stormed back out of his bathroom clad in a long leather coat, gloves and carrying a police flashlight. 

“C’mon, we’re getting out of here.” 

Billy was waiting at the bottom of the kitchen stairs, hands shoved into his jeans pockets. He grinned, reflecting Elvis’ smirk as they converged in the kitchen. 

“They fell for it, huh?” Elvis remarked, knocking Billy’s shoulder with his knuckles. 

“Uh huh, I told ‘em we’d meet ‘em on up ahead.” “Joe bitchin’ and whining about it, I bet,” Elvis remarked gleefully, heading towards the back door with Billy beside him. Chancy trailed them, wondering what the hell was going on. 

The wall of wet heat hit as soon as they stepped outside and Chancy shook her head as she stared at Elvis’ broad back wrapped in black leather even as she was peeling tendrils of her hair away from her damp neck and face. 

Elvis was too busy crowing over his ability to fool everyone to notice the temperature. He and Billy were joking and laughing about it as they passed the car port and continued on down towards the back gate near where Chancy had parked her car. On the road was a white Cadillac coupe with an old, black truck behind it. 

Billy tossed some keys to Elvis, who was still laughing as he got into the truck, but Billy’s smile faded as he turned away and he looked at Chancy with something close to reproach. She couldn’t think why he would be mad with her or blame her when she had no idea what was going on. He was the one going along with whatever crazy plan Elvis had come up with. 

“Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on?” she asked nobody in particular. 

“Shh, we’re being sneaky!” Elvis whispered in an Elmer Fudd voice, leaning out the window. “C’mon, Cha Cha, get in!”  

She looked to Billy again, hoping for something that made more sense, but he had already climbed into the Cadillac and the back gate was opening. Elvis beckoned her and she hurriedly circled the truck and jumped in. 

As they pulled out into the narrow road that ran down the side of the church next door, Elvis accelerated slightly and gave the Cadillac in front a little nudge on the bumper, grinning so wide that his dimples made an appearance. 

“Uh, shouldn’t you have your lights on?” Chancy asked, goosebumps of anticipation nonetheless breaking out over her arms as she caught his infectious excitement. 

“Now that wouldn’t be very sneaky of little old us, would it.”

“Billy’s got his on.”

“Exactly!” 

Ahead of them, Billy pulled out onto the highway and faintly they could hear a few people shouting. Elvis waited, engine idling with his lights off. Chancy watched him expectantly as he tapped his thumbs on the top of the steering wheel, humming quietly under his breath. He seemed to become aware of her eyes and glanced towards her, eyes narrow and cheekbones brimming with mirth. 

“Being bad feels good, don’t it?” 

“It might, if I knew what we were doing.” He didn’t reply, just flew out onto the highway, switching on his lights at the last minute and swerving around the oncoming traffic. 

Eyes on the rear view mirror, he murmured, “I bet they’re shitting a brick right about now, man. Serves ‘em right, serves ‘em right. I tell you, boy…” 

“So we’re not going to the recording studio?” Chancy asked, mainly to remind him that she was in the car too and he didn’t need to talk to himself. 

“You catch on fast, don’t you,” he remarked, shooting her a sideways look. “Baby, what are you doing all the way over there?” He reached blindly across the bench seat and clamped a hand on her thigh, trying to drag her closer to him. She made a series of unladylike noises as she left behind half of the skin from the back of thighs on the warm leather. 

“Where are we going then?” she inquired, once she was flush against him, her forearm resting on his thigh and her cheek stuck to his coat. 

“Well…” He tailed off. “Where would you like to go?” She bit down on her lip as he made himself sound very magnanimous and not at all like he hadn’t thought his great escape plan all the way through.

“I haven’t had anything to eat since lunch,” she reasoned. “Maybe we could-” He took a sharp turn that almost sent her sprawling. “Or maybe we could not die, Elvis, how about that?!”

He snorted and glanced at her with his eyebrow quirked playfully. She swatted at him, because he knew exactly what to do to take the heat out of her irritation, leaving her with just the intellectual understanding that she should feel annoyed. 

“Poor widdle Cha Cha, all moody and mad cos she’s hungry,” he murmured in that damn baby voice again. She was about to swat him a little harder when he did a double take out of his side window. “Hey, you know, I ran out of gas there one time.”

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah, back when I was starting out. It was one of the first times it got really crazy, boy. The cops had to come out and everything. It was wild.”

“Uh huh, getting a ride in the back of a police car to the gas station is not something you ever forget. Especially after I got back and some girl called me your whore.”

Chancy watched his face as his brain worked overtime, recalling the little details that he usually airbrushed from the patter he gave his dates as he took them on a personal tour of his home town, like who else had been there.

“They called you a whore?” he echoed finally, focusing on the detail where he had no culpability. “I didn't know that.”

“Well, it wasn't something I would've wanted to repeat.” 

It had been the first time she had been the victim of jealous, spiteful resentment, but not nearly the last. She shook her head like she could dislodge the echoes of embarrassment, hurt and outrage she had felt. 

“Besides, you didn’t even remember I was there!” She smacked his leg and turned away slightly, playing at being mad. 

“Honey, I did! I-I remember, I was just testing you!” 

“Uh huh,” she murmured. “Well, I guess I passed.” 

“With flying colours,” He hit her with a poorly aimed kiss on the ear as he steered the truck into a parking lot. Chancy glanced around and realised he had pulled into Dairy Queen. 

“You do take me to the fanciest places,” she teased, already moving to climb out. 

“Well, I only know of two ways to get you out of this mood you’re in,” he returned with irritating insight. “One’s food and the other… Well, we’re in public, honey, you know.” She felt so much better about the shiver she had to fight back when she saw that, despite the naughty look on his face, he had gone pink. 

“You are terrible,” she informed him. “Hey, where are you going?” He paused as he pushed open his door.

“There’s only one way out,” he replied, looking bemused. 

“You can’t go in there!” she exclaimed, then wanted to rewind time and roll her tongue back in, because the one way to guarantee Elvis would do something was to tell him that he couldn’t. “Baby, you don’t have any of the guys with you. It’s not safe.” 

“It’s late, Cha Cha, I’m not letting you go in there by yourself,” he returned. Then, she witnessed the exact same expression of regret cover his face that must have shone from hers moments before. Because telling her that she wasn’t allowed to do something was like firing a starting pistol. 

“It’s not exactly Times Square.”

“I don’t give a damn. Cha Cha, honey, you got all kinds of characters out there now, crazy sonsofbitches and losers strung out on all these fucking drugs they’re pushing on the streets. Baby- Baby, you don’t understand because you don’t know what it’s really like.” She bristled at the condescending tone and folded her arms over her grumbling stomach. 

“Well, then it’s not safe for either of us.” 

After ten minutes of silent sulking and hunger, they came to a compromise. Chancy would go in and order the food, and Elvis would park as close as possible with his gun ready just in case. 

As silly as she knew all that was, Chancy still felt tingles of apprehension as she pulled on the metal bar and opened the door.

At that time of the evening, the place was full of teenagers hanging out and families grabbing a treat on the way home from the movies. None of them really spared her a look apart from a few pleasant smiles as she made her way to the counter. 

Not long later, she was juggling a sack and two milkshakes and stopped to thank a man who had jumped up to hold the door for her. He smiled back, nodding at her chest rather than her face. 

Turning towards the truck, she let out a little gasp as she saw a small knot of people standing by the driver’s door. Her heart hammering, she glanced towards the phone booth at the front of the parking lot, wondering if she would have to make a call to Graceland to get someone out to help. 

As she drew closer, she saw that it was just an older couple and their children. As long as they made a getaway before they attracted any more attention they would be okay. 

When she climbed in the cab, Elvis was signing a scrap of paper, what looked like a receipt, and he handed it over, ruffling the young son on the head. Chancy kept her head down so as not to attract notice. The only problem was that the family did not seem satisfied with the autograph and small talk and lingered, forcing Elvis to say that they had to leave. They even took a few steps forward as he backed out, like they were going to follow them on foot. 

“Just can’t stay out of trouble for a minute, can you,” she remarked, handing him his milkshake. 

“Well, you were gone so damn long,” he complained, spilling a little of the shake on his pants as he tried to negotiate the road. “Goddamn it! She quickly retrieved the paper cup before it was thrown, possibly at her. He was still swearing as he pulled into a rest area, the frosty drink slowly trickling into uncomfortable places. 

Seeing his mood souring, she grabbed a napkin from the sack but hid it at her side. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it,” she exclaimed brightly, ducking her head down towards his lap. 

“Chancy, no!” His voice went impossibly high, breathless and panicked. 

She burst out laughing, she couldn’t help it, and tossed the napkin at him as she collapsed against the back of the seat, gasping and giggling, wiping her eyes. She tried to get herself under control as he irritably wiped at his pants with the napkin, muttering under his breath, but every time she looked at him, all kitted out in his flashy badass outfit, she kept hearing his panicked protest like he was a sweet virgin being propositioned by an over amorous date. 

“Don’t see what’s so goddamn funny,” he snapped. “My fucking pants are ruined.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied, her voice quivering very slightly as she bit on the inside of her cheek. “I…” She started laughing again and he smacked the steering wheel and started the engine, shaking his head. “No, baby, no, I’m sorry!” She lifted her milkshake and tipped it slightly as if she was going to dump the whole thing in her own lap. “Look, you give me the word and we’ll match. Want me to?” 

A fast diesel truck rattling by startled her and she jerked slightly, causing a large drop to splat onto her bare leg. 

“Damn, that’s cold!” she hissed. His eyes twinkled and a slow smile crept across his face. She realised that there was a very real possibility that he was about to knock the cup over her and almost resigned herself to it. 

“You’re crazy, you know that,” he remarked, before very slowly and deliberately leaning down and licking the milkshake from her thigh. He punctuated that by opening his mouth and pretending to take a bite of her, his teeth leaving a faint imprint in her pale skin under the light of the cab. Holding her breath, Chancy now understood how fish felt drowning on dry land.

They ate their food at the rest stop without much chat. Elvis was still mad at her for laughing at him. It was always a sore point for him, and she sensed that he was embarrassed by his unfiltered reaction to the idea of her going down on him in public. He always loved to give off the impression that he was unflappable, that there was no boundary that he would not push and no impulse he would not indulge, but that wasn’t true. Not really.  

Licking the salt from her fingers, she leant up and kissed his cheek as he chewed the last of his third burger. He didn’t reciprocate, but nor did he move away, just looked out the window at the shadowy brush. She stuffed the wrappers into the empty sack and slid a little closer to him, her bent knees knocking into his thigh. 

Rising on her knees, she nudged her nose into the hair at his temple, pressing butterfly kisses into his skin, catching her lip on the arm of his sunglasses. His fingers tapped on the ledge of his open window, almost like she was keeping him from a more pressing appointment, and she wondered if his mood had sunk too low to be recovered. She started to draw back, but the firm line of his arm just behind her shoulders stopped her retreat. 

She studied him, looking down from his turned cheek to where the tendon in his neck was just visible above his turned-up collar as he craned his head away from her. Almost tentatively, she pressed her lips against it, feeling his pulse pounding beneath the salty skin. She lapped at it with tiny kitten licks until he jerked away, trying to hide his smile.  

Leaning forward, he started the engine and pulled back out onto the road, executing a neat u-turn so that they were heading north. 

“Where are we going now?”

“Gotta get you back to the nuthouse before they send out the guys with straitjackets,” he replied, shooting her a sly grin. 

“Uh huh, I’m sure it’d be me they were looking for,” she replied, settling herself down at his side. He just kept smiling, dropping his hand into her lap and entwining their fingers. That didn’t last long, because he had to keep twiddling the dial of the radio every time the deejay started talking. 

“Wasn’t that George?” she asked, as he abruptly twisted the knob again, muttering a curse word. “I don’t care who it was,” he snapped. “Don’t talk over the goddamn song. What’s the point of them even playing songs if they’re gonna-” He let out some high pitched gibberish that sounded like an irate chipmunk after sucking helium. 

“So, where’s next on the famous Elvis’ hometown tour?” ���Aw, honey, there’s no…” He didn’t even bother finishing his lie. “There ain’t no point showing you, you know more about it than I do. I ever end up writing that book about my life, you’ll be there…’No, Elvis, it didn’t happen like that, I was there.’” She shook her head at his usual high-pitched impression of her. 

“The two of us in rocking chairs, me trying to edit every story,” she added. “In my head, you’re old when you’re writing this life story.”

She felt her cheeks heat as she had basically admitted that she pictured them together when they were old. That was giving away too much and also trying to take too little. 

If he noticed her embarrassment or thought that the idea of them being together when they were old was far-fetched, he didn’t show it, huffing a laugh as he guided them back through more familiar streets. “We’re going back? So soon?” She thought of all the people back at the house, likely some annoyed employees and some tense phone calls to be made. She wondered if they would get to sneak out like this again during her stay, and considered that plans would probably be put in place to stop that happening. 

“Well,” he bounced a closed fist against the inside of the truck door. “I gotta change my damn pants and… It seems like you might still be in a bad mood, honey. I think it might be time to try the second thing.”

Tag lIst: @richardslady121, @dkayfixates, @fallinlovewithurlove, @notstefaniepresley, @heartbrake-hotel , @freudianslumber , @bbrtt777, @18lkpeters , @prompted-wordsmith, @literally-just-elvis-fics , @eliseinmemphis @lookingforrainbows , @stylespresleyhearted , @amydarcimarie , @returntopresley, @savedrebelcreation, @lettersfromvenus , @littlehoneyposts, @joshuntildawn13, @i-r-i-n-a-a, @from-memphis-with-love, @ellie-24, @be-my-ally, @vintageshanny

[nightgoodomens]

Ok so here are my thoughts about the other stuff that happened yesterday because there’s 60 asks in my inbox and it feels a little mean to not acknowledge them. But because there’s 60 and it would take me 3 months to answer, I’m just going to give you my thoughts after you gave me yours instead of answering each ask separately.

As usual - don’t click ‘keep reading’ if you don’t want PR and relationship talk. These are my personal takes, I’m not saying they’re correct.

GT and DT

What happened yesterday was probably the most blatant PR they could have went for and it was so obvious and over the top that instead of making me go “aww” it made me go “when is the new project?”

There is a lot of power in subtlety. It feels real, soft, loveable. That’s what real couples do. They don’t have the need to promote their relationship to gain something out of it. But starting with DT name dropping GT during interviews, then the day of BAFTAs starting with paid for articles about the wife of the host, about things that happened many years ago, just to have an excuse to write about her, and then screaming omg cameras let’s kiss right in front of them - it’s insincere. It’s a show. Things like that happen for a reason. It’s the most basic PR move.

My guesses are;

> GT wants to come back to acting or basically have some sort of project so DT used the moment to bring attention to her. Helped her start off again. Remember also The Way was released today, just one day after BAFTAs.

> Or perhaps it was basically DT thinking you know what, I want to share this special day with the wife and the husband - so he had the articles written about GT and did the kiss, and then did the sketch and met with MS in the audience - he knew articles will be written about this too.

It will be verified soon enough - if GT announces anything that will be the reason for all the promo lately. If not - my guess is the other reason.

It’s quite clever really because DT gave her general visibility and then he made a whole show with Michael in a room with some of the best directors, producers, actors, castings… Look at us and how fantastic we are together! (Give DT and MS jobs together! 😂)

Well, also, he didn’t need to choose a plus one between GT and MS, clever bastard 😂 He had both with him on such an important night for him.

We all joke about what happened yesterday and how inseparable MS and DT are but this really was DT ensuring the spotlight is on his wife and his husband that night and they’re a significant part of his night. They’re both really important to him in whatever way you choose to believe. This is the two people he wanted to share the night with.

Media knows. Have you noticed there were a few close ups of Michael and nobody else? Not even GT, and definitely not AL.

AL and MS

Uh oh are we ready for this conversation.

I watched the Red Carpet. I think there are two problems - MS has checked out a long time ago, and AL has no idea what to do with herself but she wants *fame* and to meet celebrities.

I saw MS on a red carpet with someone he actually adores. It was a striking difference. That was DT. That was MS who showed off his partner, laughed, chatted, giggled, made him feel at ease, made sure the attention was on the slightly overwhelmed and excited DT, steered him a little. His arm around him was strong. He was there for him completely.

There’s none of that with AL.

I think what makes the awkwardness even worse is that she wants to be a supermodel but she’s actually too self conscious for cameras. She doesn’t know how to pose, she’s stiff, she doesn’t know if to open her mouth or not - she doesn’t have the confidence to just smile and be herself because what she worries the most about is the final product. So every time it comes out like there’s nothing between the ears. Like a puppet.

There’s actually quite a simple comparison - DT and GT on the same day. As far as I’m aware GT finds red carpets stressful and usually avoids them - but what did DT do? He kept on talking and making her laugh so she’d relax and so they got a few good shots. But that’s people who clearly share sympathy and respect for each other.

Now the elephant in the room - AL not being in the sketch.

I’m waiting for some beautiful excuse so I won’t be surprised we will get it but my guesses are;

> The simplest one - BAFTAs said VIP only. GT probably only got the line because she’s the host’s wife and so AL had no chance just being a partner of MS.

> Cheekier one - It was David’s night and like I said before, he wanted his people in it. AL isn’t one of them. He knows she’s not really MS’s either. We know GT/AL wife thing is bullshit.

> Honestly, maybe even Michael said he doesn’t want her. This is the man who’s been showing left and right he is not happy so…

> Well, anyway, let’s say this - I think if they wanted her to be in it, she would had been in it.

I will admit - damn that was cold and I’m not surprised she’s slightly lashing out today.

But you know what, I’m happy. I’m happy that David has a video with Michael to celebrate his BAFTAs. That he didn’t need to “give in” at any point. This was his night, he slayed it, he has fantastic memories for the rest of his life.

And the reviews have been fantastic so I see a return for him in the future.

And freaking hell I hope there are tv shows and movies being written for MS/DT as we speak.

[bibibbon]

MHA chapter 425

Iam not really sure how to feel about this chapter. Well I can definitely say that I still think that the entirety of the second war arc especially the last few chapters weren't my favourite and ruined the series for me but we have the power of rewrites on our side so not to worry

So we finally have a 1A member that left. It's surprising that it took a total of 425 chapters for someone to finally leave the hero course. This low-key makes me question if 1A just all has neglectful parents that don't care about them because I think any sane parent would of took their kids out of UA a long time ago and the first war arc should of been a wake up call. Now that yuuga has left it does make me wonder what he will do. I mean he has to continue his education somewhere 🤷‍♀️

Shinsou joins class 1A and Iam surprised his parents let him. I get that shinsou was due to join the hero course in their second year but like this series sometimes make me question if any of these characters have sane parents because why would you let your kid join in such a dangerous job?!?! Also I respectfully think that shinsou is heavily underdeveloped and didn't get any moment to shine in the war arc. Also there isn't much of a relationship between 1A and shinsou so it does feel a bit off I guess and maybe this is just me but I always thought that he fit in better with 1b

Pacing is hella fast! How are they going back to school already and throwing a graduation ceremony. It hasn't been a week and somehow everything is rebuilt like that, we get little to no information from what they plan to do in the future. We do get a tiny speech but we don't get them starting to do such things and personally I would of at least enjoyed a panel seeing some heroes help rebuild and clean the damage caused. Plus I think everyone can tell that the MHA society is flawed so saying that they want to go back to their old ways seems very iffy to me. I also would of liked an acknowledgement in what actually happen in the war arc but considering that not many people died they weren't gonna do any type of memorial thing or anything.

Is that shigaraki?!?! Or kurogiri?!?!?!? Who is it!!! Iam totally unsure of who it is but I don't think it would make sense if it was shigaraki because he literally died unless hori is actually going along with the plan of separating Tenko and shigaraki and thats not shigaraki but the innocent and crying Tenko type of bs (I absolutely hate this idea tbh) also what happend for tenko to come back as a child I suppose? Or is this someone completely new who has been effected by society and we're supposed to be like well evil is still brewing as society hasn't changed type thing? Maybe it's kurogiri idk I just want to see kurogiri again.

Enji is in a wheelchair (don't really care for him). This makes me question if endy is even a hero anymore and if he ain't who is the number one then? ( I still think they're going by that system because they said they wanna go back to the old ways)

Wait are we gonna see Dabi next chapter!!!!. Enji is facing somewhere with a ton of wires and all so maybe it could be where Dabi is being held at? I mean we don't know if Dabi is dead and we didn't get todoroki talking about it at all

I need Izuku's old hair back!! I miss the fluffy hair and I get that the convo was supposed to be lighthearted and all but I would of enjoyed the pages being used for something else like them actually checking up on eachother. Is tokoyami quirkless? How did they spend their time? Questions like that would of sufficed but I hated Izuku's hair at least he has some people telling him it's cool even if they might be lying

This chapter didn't give us much clarification on much to be honest. Yeah I was expecting this chapter to have huge focus on other villains and characters yet it didn't. I know I have to be patient blah blah but the last two panels of 424 did give us ochako and Todoroki but we got the least focus on them this chapter. I was hoping the villain situations might start to get addressed but I guess that will be next chapter with maybe Tenko making a comeback?

Also I love how we got Toruu's quirk glitching but no one acknowledges it or helps her with it (sarcasm if you couldn't realise)

I also hate whatever convo that was between Izuku and ochako, it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth for some unknown reason

Why the hell is a third year In charge of something a teacher should be!!?!?!! Poor fuwa UA corruption and hypocrisy goes deep.

How are children still joining ua?!?! Like yep society moves on like nothing happend even though Japan was turned upside down in chaos

In conclusion, it was ok I didn't expect it to be amazing because it was a chapter that was gonna expand on stuff I didn't like 🤷‍♀️.

[anonymous-dentist]

I think it’s interesting to look at how this villain arc is going already, because people have already started taking things out of context and ignoring any and all subtext going on.

Ex: people saying that q!Cellbit is manipulating q!Roier into still being on his side by saying he’ll get Bobby back.

This is not true. Watch the clip below of their conversation: (let’s see if the clip cooperates this time lol)

If you pay attention, you’ll note that the word “promise” isn’t anywhere in there. Neither is anything like “I am going to get Bobby back” or “I will get Bobby back”. He says that he will try. There’s a big difference between a guarantee and an attempt.

Is this all to say that he isn’t trying to manipulate Roier? Not at all, because this is still manipulative in a way. He’s still out here using Roier’s weak point to get him on his side, but also? He’s been telling Roier that he would try and get Bobby back since the day Bobby died in that dungeon. He tried again in that white room before Cucurucho kicked everybody out. Maybe that’s why this manipulation would’ve worked if it, uh, actually worked.

The thing about q!Roier and q!Cellbit is that they have a… special relationship. We all know about Guapito and Gatinho, but there’s another aspect here, and it’s that they trust each other with almost everything they’ve got, especially on Roier’s end. Cellbit is one of three people on the server who knows about the secret area in Roier’s base (the other two are q!Jaiden and q!Mariana, Roier’s best friends and the only other people he openly trusts), after all, and he’s implied to be the only person that Roier has loved that loves him back. That goes a long way.

And then there’s the matter of Roier saying that he’ll believe in Cellbit because of the parallels here with the ad (which Roier seems to think is the root of the problem here) and with what happened with q!Spreen and q!Quackity months ago. Roier sees the ad and everyone’s reactions to the ad/Cellbit’s investigations into the ad as Cellbit does, as a betrayal. He empathizes with him because he went through what Cellbit is currently going through.

Most importantly, we know that the manipulation didn’t work because Roier isn’t on Cellbit’s side. He isn’t on anybody’s side, actually! He said as much in his stream last night.

He will be Cellbit’s legal counsel for the upcoming custody hearing, but it won’t be because of the whole manipulation thing. It’s because this is Cellbit we’re talking about here.

(Pardon the translation here, but it basically means “He says he wants to support Bobby, and I support him in everything. Even if he can’t do it, I’ll support him then, too.”)

And you see this behavior all night. He’s the only guy defending Cellbit during the Order’s meeting, he says that their first priority should be “saving” Cellbit rather than destroying the Federation, he says that Cellbit might just be sad and lonely, he tells Maximus to take the ad down, and he doesn’t do any of this because Cellbit asked him to or because he’s on his side or anything. He acknowledges that the custody trial is fucked up and he seems genuinely sad hearing that Cellbit is ditching all his friends here. Roier does all of this because he cares for Cellbit as a person, which is something that I’m not sure Cellbit himself realizes.

TLDR: q!Cellbit didn’t manipulate q!Roier by saying he’ll get Bobby back, he manipulated Roier by saying he’ll try and get Bobby back. It didn’t work either way because Roier is a Good Friend.

[ronearoundblindly]

WAIT jimmy + a kiss in public

Strange New World, a tale for Valentine's Day 2024

Jimmy Dobyne x professor!reader from Common Education

Summary: After years of this secret, on-and-off relationship with Jimmy (a student only a few years younger than you), he's determined to make it official before his graduation.

Warnings for a man who knows what he wants ⚠️woah boi⚠️, referenced smutty times, and Jimmy maybe turning me into a fan of the South g'damn. MINORS DNI. There is plenty else for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this one is not for you! WC 2k

You hate the habit and the smell, but at least James Dobyne’s smoking makes him predictable.

He’s a sculpted, contrasting vision in his crisp suit, something majestic about the billowing plumes pushed so deftly from his mouth. It warms you even though the breeze envelops your shoulders and flutters the black satin of your gown.

The Dean’s List party—a formal celebration for the upcoming graduates—is always a big deal for students and faculty, and it just so happens to be the only campus event where you both have had reason to attend.

Just not together.

None of these people really know about you. Jimmy is not a major in your field, and he hasn’t been in a class of yours for over three years now, but you’re still hesitant to ‘come out’ as a couple. This party doesn’t even involve plus-ones. It’s more taboo to be seen as a pair here than anywhere else.

Instead, you’ve found him outside with his vice.

 He sees you immediately, taking a long drag of his cigarette, blatantly undressing you with his eyes, not unlike how he left hot kisses up your skin while he zipped you up two hours ago.

You grin and swing the skirt of your dress playfully. “Wha’ch’doing?”

The searing tip dies out while Jimmy cracks his own smile.

“Tryna cover the taste of ya,” he husks, wiping the corner of his mouth.

You strain to hold your amusement though your thoughts are transported to when he helped you with the small clasp on your strappy heels and slid his hand all the way up your leg. He snapped the gusset of your panties for fun before moving them aside.

You have to clear your throat. “And the whole dinner you just ate couldn’t do that?”

“No,” he adds slyly. He’s natural and happy as he leans in, reaching for a hug and a kiss, but you panic.

“Jimmy, not here.”

“Why not? We came here from the same apartment.” He has the wherewithal to lower his voice, exhaling another puff of smoke. “I sleep at your’s most nights. That whole crowd is celebrating a bunch of kids graduating out of this system, so if not here, and if not now, when?”

You can’t resist pointing out his own word. “Kids…”

He straightens, stance defensive and eyes detached, the picture of a film noir character.

“If you had your way, you’d only acknowledge I exist once I’m good and gone, Teach—” he flicks ash off the cig “—tucked back away in Tennessee.”

“That’s not true,” you deflate at the mention of him leaving.

You want to hold him, you really do, but your whole body screams in awareness of the few others loitering outside the event for a minute of fresh air.

“Well, that’s what it feels like.” He stomps out the butt of his cigarette. “They do this every year, don’t they? Fair to say they expect us to mingle.

“Then let’s mingle. And you—“ Jimmy reaches out again, sure to tough your bare neck this time “—are gonna call me your boyfriend.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” He uses the same finger to brush away one of your dangling earrings. “Introduce me as your boyfriend to someone here, right now.”

“People don’t need to know we’ve been…intimate,” you gulp back.

“Intimacies often end up in marriage. People’d know about that, wouldn’t they? Eventually.”

“Jimmy…”

You don’t know whether to run away or drop your panties at the dark look he pins you with, but that is the exact problem.

You’re worried about how the man who fucked you in the dress on your kitchen counter earlier—the one who called you greedy for desperately begging to come a second time before leaving the apartment—is going to behave in public to your colleagues. You’ve had to be so careful for years, and you fear the very real possibility that Jimmy will break. He might not care about his reputation, but you do; you have to care.

Quietly, you ask, “and what if I can’t do it?”

He looks around, clearly disappointed.

“Woman,” he huffs, standing within an inch but making no contact with any part of you, “I’m sayin’ if you can’t choose us, then we never existed.”

He has every right. You’ve been at war with your heart all these years, and it’s high time you declare a victor.

Jimmy Dobyne is twenty-eight years old, and he’s more than proven he adores you. It’s only at your insistence this has been secret for so long.

You give in.

“Ok.”

“Ok,” he beams, giddy and boyish, and you hope beyond hope that he’ll keep it together.

He offers his arm. You take it, thrilled at the substance of the thick sleeve. The moment does feel fancy and official.

As you pass beneath the archway inside though, you round on him.

“But under no circumstances are you to call me ‘Teach,’ got it?” Because that’s all you need to really blow up your life.

Jimmy holds your hand fast to the crook of his arm, bowing his head ever-so slightly. “Yes, ma’am.”

You roll your eyes but accept, stepping into the noisy, enormous ballroom, together, his hand still sheltering yours.

“Don’t worry. I’mma pick the stuffiest looking guy,” Jimmy muses, “someone so aloof ‘e won’t care a lick what you’re even saying.”

That’s when you see him—your ex.

The man who wrecked the flow of your life and trampled on your self-esteem is talking to a pretty, young colleague, and Jimmy is steering you right for them.

“Not him,” you hiss, savagely gripping Jimmy’s arm.

“Why not?”

“I’m telling you. Please, don’t—”

“Too late. I’ve made eye contact.”

Tyler is rarely at these function, and if it weren’t a university-wide event, he likely wouldn’t be here now. That was the beauty of polar-opposite departments; it served you well until the one only moment you needed it to serve you.

“Long time, no see.”

Bespectacled with salty streaks in his dark hair and a haughty expression that radiates superiority, you are not surprised Tyler fit the criteria for men-who-don’t-listen. You force a smile anyway.

“Tyler…it’s been a while.” Do not faint. Do not punch him. Do not tip that bastard’s scotch right into his face. “Jimmy,” you motion. “This is Tyler Brinwood.”

 “Doctor Tyler Brinwood,” he corrects, “and this is Giselle Whitley, my department co-chair.”

Of course. Of fucking course.

For a man so consistently belittling of your education, god forbid you forget about his.

“Oh, yes, Missus Whitley—“ whose husband is a well-known banker and about two decades older “—I’ve heard great things. You’ve been a wiz at securing funding.”

“Thank you. It’s a lot harder than it looks,” she says with a wink.

Jimmy makes it clear he doesn’t recognize either name, and he wouldn’t because you’ve never talked about it, ever.

You snap back to the point of this horror show.

“Tyler, Giselle, this is James Dobyne.” A sharp breath in flares your nostrils. “My boyfriend.”

Your ex chuckles in the most humorless way.

“Interesting. Certainly giving the term ‘boy’ a run for its money, eh, Dusty?” He takes a sip of his scotch and looks to Giselle and then you for validation.

“What did you just call her?” Jimmy asks flatly, a hard edge to his tone that implies volumes of distaste.

“It’s about the smell of old books, that’s all.” Tyler can’t believe no one else finds this amusing.

Jimmy is more shocked by this stuffy, tactless man than when he walked up. “Why would you call a lady ‘dusty’?”

Giselle makes a face. “I’m afraid I agree with Mister Dobyne.”

You hope it chafes Tyler that his own friend already remembers Jimmy’s name.

“Well…” Tyler licks his lips and waves his free hand dismissively. “Old friends have…inside jokes.”

You’re not laughing. You’re actually about ready to crawl into a hole and seal it with a boulder.

“Giving that term ‘old’ a run for its money, huh, Brentwood,” Jimmy rumbles in the most sincerely cruel voice you’ve ever heard from him.

If you could carry just one photograph with you for the rest of your life, it would be a shot of Tyler’s face right there.

“It’s Brinwood.”

Giselle discreetly covers her grin with a large swig of her white wine. The men continue to stare each other down.

“So Jaime—“ asshole, you think “—are you a history major?”

Jimmy lets that slide. “Business.”

“Ah yes, the most common curriculum at this prestigious institution. Plan to do anything with your degree?”

Boisterous, pompous mother-fucker, you internally rage. You have the urge to spin around and leave without another word.

“Actually,” Jimmy starts with excitement, curling his arm around your waist as if sensing your will to run, “I took over my family’s general store when I was fourteen—nineteen, if you looked at the official paperwork—and I plan to expand the parking lot into a permanent farmer’s market.” He waits for Tyler, but there’s no immediate response. “I’m sorry, did you follow that? What do you study again?”

“I teach mathematics.”

“No shame in that,” Jimmy adds easily. “Love numbers. Been keeping the books since I was in elementary school.”

“Pure mathematics,” Tyler specifies, bitterness souring his already puckered look.

Jimmy sucks at his teeth in mock admiration.

“Wow. You plannin’ to…do anything with that?”

The silence that follows is palpable.

Giselle snorts while you try to corale a runaway, bug-eyed expression. If you had a drink in your hand, you would have choked.

When Tyler continues to frown, Jimmy looks at you and smiles sweetly, no hint of judgment for your ex’s behavior to be found.

“Ready, beautiful?” He rubs the satin at your side, and Jimmy cannot possibly understand how comforted you are by his presence.

Then he turns back, his point made, the ultimatum complete.

“If you’ll excuse us, it was nice to meet you, doctor, ma’am, but we’ve got a lot of mingling to do before the night’s over.”

He kisses your temple, a gesture somehow more intimate than if he’d bent you backwards and made out with you. It implies you’ve already done that. He’s announcing this isn’t new. Jimmy’s showing that he is neither a boy, nor a recent addition to your life, and that Tyler is, in fact, an old-old friend no longer inside your sphere.

Tyler’s niceties are barely audible, but Giselle wiggles her fingers with a cute “tohdaloo.”

Jimmy guides you through a throng of faceless people. You realize it doesn’t matter who sees you because none of them matter to this: to you and Jimmy. This is the pair of you, a couple, a girlfriend and a boyfriend and no one else. 

Your boyfriend keeps you glued to his side until you stop at the bar. He releases your hip so you can face him, his crooked finger holding your chin high.

There’s a loving sympathy in his soft blue eyes.

“Thank you,” Jimmy whispers and gently kisses your lips, hardly enough to transfer your lipstick. Regardless, he checks the supple line with a sweep of his thumb. “Sorry I picked that guy though.”

Jimmy’s shrug of apology is plenty.

He might never understand, but that little interaction has soothed more fears than you could ever voice about how real what you have with Jimmy is.

Jimmy comes from a simple life. It’s straight-forward and without fuss. You do the chore; the chore is done. Rarely do social complications come up. Rarely would emotions derail the success of that work. New York is different, and it’s felt so wrong to expose a man brought up so simply, so wholesomely, to that complex and unfair game of egos. 

He deserves a simple love, but you do not live in a simple world.

And yet, you already love him.

Jake Jensen and a kiss where it doesn't hurt ⬅️ ➡️ Ransom Drysdale and a kiss out of spite

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @rogersbarber @spectre-posts

[sophieinwonderland]

r/systemscringe user ponders the question of whether they would still hate endogenic systems if we stopped calling ourselves systems. It goes... predictably.

Before going on... let me just stop and say how sad I think it is that u/DustyArcade is befriending people to bait them into revealing personal details about themselves for Reddit Karma.

While it seems hopeful that they're more open-minded than some of the others on the general concept of plurality, this is a really gross behavior.

Spoiler: the answer to this question is yes!

But before we get into that...

PSA: Beware @/Cains-Coin-Shop

Now, I am going to get into the comments, but before I do, we need to take an intermission for a PSA regarding u/DustyArcade. When looking at their post history, I ran across this.

The blog has apparently been reinstated in the week since that post.

And they're apparently an anti-endo tulpamancer.

I remember running across this not too long ago, thinking about responding, but deciding not to. Though given that this user is baiting people into friendships to post to Reddit, WATCH OUT FOR THIS BLOG.

I don't know of this is their bait blog or just another blog they happen to run. But either way, they aren't a safe individual to interact with if you're concerned about being posted to r/systemscringe.

Now, back to our regularly-scheduled debunking...

"They're already saying they don't have DID/OSDD but they're still faking it" is some of the wildest reasoning I've ever seen.

Now, "used by" is a pretty interesting use of words. Because sure, there are plenty of DID/OSDD systems who use these terms. But remember that "plural" was created in the 90s as an alternative to the medicalized "multiple." Likewise, "collective" and similar terms were created to distance people from medicalized terms like "system."

It's pretty clear that u/NonamesNolies has no understanding of plural history, which does get pointed out by u/DustyArcade to their credit.

Pretty sure the equivalent term before "endogenic systems" was "natural multiple."

Normally at this point, I would point out to u/NonamesNolies that the ICD-11 acknowledges that you can have multiple distinct personality states without a disorder.

I would point out that the creators of the Theory of Structural Dissociation have said spiritual practices and hypnosis may be able to result in the creation of self-conscious dissociative parts of the personality.

I would point to the chapter in Transgender Mental Health, published by the APA, which stated that you can be plural without a disorder or trauma.

But I won't do that because I know for a fact they aren't willing to listen, and just prefer to call any psychiatrists who disagree with them grifters. And yes, that's an actual thing they did, which I will get to at the end of this post!

Meanwhile...

Really just... going straight for those cult accusations, huh?

Funny from the science-denier.

Anyway, it's amazing how completely wrong they are on the term "multiple."

Yes, originally, the term was shared. And it still is to an extent. But then as the endogenic/non-disordered community broke off, they coined and popularized "plural" as an alternative to avoid medical connotations.

Plural was NEVER a DID/OSDD-specific term. It was always inclusive to all systems from the beginning.

But there you have your answer. It's not about the terms we use. It's about our existence. The language we use doesn't really matter to them.

There is... a whole lot in this interaction that it's hard to know where to begin. For one thing, most tulpamancy is viewed as psychological. And I imagine that even most spiritual tulpamancers would dispute their practice being considered "religious."

But to u/doubtful_messenger's assertion that endogenic systems need a parasitic relationship with DID, I'm just going counter that endogenic plurality through various names has existed for a long, long time.

The explanation of some forms of plurality as a mental disorder is fairly recent, only arising in the past couple hundred years. Before that, any instance of plurality was viewed as spiritual. Endogenic systems don't need a DID community to exist.

The tulpamancy and daemonism communities, forming completely independently of the larger plural community, proves that.

Finally... there's u/DustyArcade saying they thought they were turning into an endo, which I think I'll just let speak for itself.

...

The final comment in this thread I want to mention is from u/Kamari-mari, who I feel perfectly encapsulates the anti-endo point of view.

"Nothing you say matters because we already made up our mind and won't read anything that contradicts our preconceived notions."

And shoutout to u/bugzxvi for their addition of congratulating u/Kamari-mari for bragging about not being able to read three short paragraphs. It really pulls the whole thing together.

...

Okay, now I referenced u/NonamesNolies calling psychiatrists grifters, so let's dive into that next!

r/Systemscringeing on Transgender Mental Health

Quick note: That's not a typo. r/systemscringing is a new hatesub like r/systemscringe, but exclusively for systems to make fun of other systems.

The relationship between transgender mental health and plurality, including DID, seems pretty obvious to me. How many systems have headmates with various genders? How many of those experience dysphoria while fronting? How does the gender of nonfronting headmates affect the fronters? How do these factors affect transitioning?

This stuff is super important for doctors to understand when treating plural patients.

And it's wild how u/NonameNolies just immediately jumps to hating a psychiatrist for acknowledging the existence of endogenic systems.

This gets even worse in the comments.

What is the logic supposed to be in this argument? "If you're not a trauma specialist, you aren't qualified to say that plurality can be caused without trauma?"

How does that track?

I mean, surely, not being a trauma specialist means there's a better chance you'll run into plurals who aren't traumatized than someone who exclusively works with trauma victims, right?

"You can't say things other than X can cause Y unless you're an expert in X" doesn't actually make any sense.

Imagine if you decided that to say "diseases other than cancer can kill you," you needed to be a cancer specialist.

That would be pretty silly, wouldn't it?

Can we just take a step back for a moment and imagine something for a moment...

You are Eric Yarbrough. You worked hard for 8 years to earn a doctorate in psychiatry.

You've served the LGBTQ community tirelessly in the psychiatry field since, serving as president of The Association of LGBTQ psychiatrists, among many other roles.

You've become a Distinguished Fellow of the American Psychiatric Association, one of the highest honors given by the APA.

And some rando on Reddit just called you a grifter and said you should be ashamed of yourself because they're upset you don't support their bigotry in a book that itself was reviewed and published by the American Psychiatric Association.

...

Anyone else just feel like anti-endos treat psychiatrists the way Trump treats judges?

[sanjisluvbot]

Isekai Yandere Strawhats x Black Fem Reader PT 12

masterlist

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" Love? Is that what you think this honestly is?" your smile turned into something maniacal, and his eyes hardened. you released his cheeks roughly and walked towards the door swinging it open. you looked back at him once before stepping out and slamming the door behind you will all the force you had.

He was quick to follow and you were already following your way to the clearing, the only thing to do right now is, to be honest with Law and stop meeting alone with Zoro. If you were the same little naive girl you had been when you first got here this would have been an absolute dream.

You couldn't lie to yourself and say he wasn't handsome and that is exactly why you can no longer face him head-on alone. What just happened should have never happened, especially considering what he just did to you not even that long ago.

You were in a mental argument with yourself and he was just silently behind you as usual. He was waiting till you acknowledged him because there is no way that he would allow you to just keep treating him this way.

This is the second time he tried to converse with you privately where you just up and left to go find comfort in Law's arms. He wanted to grab you and pull you close but that would only cause more issues between the two of you that he didn't know how to fix. He was surprised to see the way you treated him considering you knew the type of guy he was before you two even met.

<>

The rain was leaving the deck absolutely drenched and you had your head leaning on a window as Zoro worked out. You had been reading a book but something about the rain coming down and the thunder every so often made you feel homesick.

This had been happening more often to you, although you loved the straw hats and, this was a dream come true you wanted to be home, you wanted to watch one piece through a screen in your bed or in your living room.

You missed your family and your friends, but it felt like you couldn't mention that to the crew anymore- not even Zoro. After your drunk conversation from the night before there was a rift in your relationship that seemed impossible to repair.

Looking away from the storm you glanced at Zoro who was wiping sweat from his face, you had a thought pop into your brain just then. Maybe if you involve Zoro in the conversation you can talk about being homesick without them coddling you and trying to make you shut up.

" Zoro do you know how much I know about you as a person?"

" What do you know.." He spoke eyes meeting yours.

You felt yourself inhale sharply, he had always been a sight to you but something about the way his skin was tanned before the time skip did it for you really. Maybe aside from that it was his more boyish nature compared to the now completely stoic man who made sure to protect his crew no matter what. He was never a goofy character, yes, he was always the more serious one but he had a charm pre-time skip that he partially lost although some people don't see it.

Seeing him in person like this and actually speaking to him made your heart race and you didn't really mind being the one to tell him about himself and flirt with him in the process.

" I know about your feud with Kuina and how you see her in Tashigi.."

his eyes widened at your sentence and he completely dropped the weight that was in his hand. This sparked up a conversation that made last night's events feel like nothing. This helped you but the nagging feeling in the back of your head didn't go away.

<>

You didn't turn back to him not once and when the two of you were in the clearing you all but dashed towards the Heart Pirates. You didn't even acknowledge the Straw Hats who waved to you offering you food.

Zoro glared at Law and the captain surely felt his stare with the way he turned around, a smile that was so smug crept onto his lips when you ran into his arms. That was Law's way of telling him to fuck off, he would've flipped him off but having you run into his arms was all he needed to have the swordsman fuming.

He was going to unsheath his sword when two arms gripped his hands, Robin's hands motioned to the stump his crewmates were sitting on and he huffed before making his way toward them.

Your head was on his chest and you felt like his heart was singing you a lullaby and you felt complete serenity the moment you were in his arms.

" Law I need to tell you something in a little while." You whispered.

" We can talk right now. "

" It needs to be in private, so I think we should wait."

He hummed and offered to take you to his sub since he was already planning to show you around later tonight anyways. He already had a hunch that you had to discuss something with him related to Zoro and he felt slightly angry. He wanted to just spend time with you, but he also understood that the Straw Hats were wreaking havoc on your life.

" We should sneak off right now.. you and I" you mused looking up at him through your lashes.

He licked his lips and cleared his throat before agreeing and you giggled behind your hands causing him to go red. Funny how the choice is so clear but you decided to falter and think about your past emotions.

Hand in hand you and Law used his ' room ' ability and teleported onto his sub, you were giggling at the strange feeling while also at the fact that you two didn't exactly sneak off. You were in a darker room and it was on a lower level so you were under the water now.

Law could tell this made you nervous so he squeezed your hand bringing your attention back to him, you awkwardly smiled at him and brought your eyes back to your surroundings. The room seemed to be an office, there were three bookshelves around all corners of the room and a pair of reading glasses on the table.

" Do you...like it so far?"

" Yes, this is your office right I like it I've never seen it in the series."

" Good thing you get to see it in person now"

He showed you around the entire submarine and now you were heading to the final room which seemed to be his bedroom. This made your entire body feel like it was pulsing. You and Law were going to be in his bedroom... alone, completely alone while everyone else including his crew was chilling on an elephant back.

He opened the door and you finally understood the meaning of Captain's quarters. His room was the most spacious and had the widest bed. He let you in before shutting the door and you skimmed around the room a bit before turning back to him. He was now right in front of you and his hands found their way to your waist.

" Y/N-ya we're alone now we can speak about whatever we want here."

🏷️[ anyone else from the tag list please personally message me or ask me through my asks I get a lot of notifs and I loose people 🥲 ]

A/N: Hello, I’m planning to make an official uploading schedule bc I know a lot of you are curious and waiting for the chapters and when they upload 🫶🏽 this chapter took a little bit longer than I wanted it to because I’m trying to make this story really come together. The story is actually going to rear it’s end soon if I could rewrite it I honestly would I feel as though you guys aren’t terrified about a situation like this enough but I’m thinkin I can fix that soon. * Mwuah * 😘

[weirdkpopgirl]

Belong | Mark Imagine #5

Title: Belong

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: nothing really

Word Count: 610

Author's Note: This is part two of the previous Mark story I posted a while ago. It's unnecessary to read the first part to understand this one, but I'll still link the story below if you want to check it out. But yeah, I'm happy to be posting more for Mark since I don't very often. Hope you guys like it and thank you for reading ^ ^

part one

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In the cozy warmth of Mark’s living room, the vanilla scented candles you had bought him a while ago were neatly arranged on the coffee table, casting a gentle glow that added a layer of intimacy to the atmosphere. Following a day of long classes and the subsequent hours dedicated to studying, you both lounged comfortably on his couch, nestled in each other’s embrace.

Throughout the year, you had fallen into a routine of driving back to his apartment after school to study. Unlike some people, the two of you managed to get a decent amount of work done, if not completely most of the time. But once the two-hour mark was reached, cuddling sessions became inevitable.

Mark always tried to savor these moments with you. Lying on the couch with you, one arm wrapped around your waist, while your head rested on his steadily rising chest. He couldn't help but reflect on how far the two of you had come since that cold day in the parking lot. At first, you weren’t completely ready to let him. But through patient conversations and shared insecurities, you gradually opened up to him fully. Slowly, you found yourself becoming happier with him by your side.

With a playful glint in his eyes, he fondly reminisced about that day and couldn’t resist bringing it up to you. “You know,” he began, the corners of his lips upturned into a teasing smile. “I was just thinking about the first time we officially talked.”

Your cheeks flushed as the memory resurfaced in your mind. That was definitely not your best moment, and you had hoped Mark had forgotten about it. Unfortunately, much to your dismay, he hadn’t.

Instinctively, you buried your face further into his chest. “Ugh, please don’t remind me. I must’ve looked like a crazy person.”

Mark chuckled softly, his fingers running through your hair. “Crazy isn’t the word I’d use to describe you. I’d say you were more breathtaking, even in tears.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” you cringed in embarrassment. 

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “No, I mean it. In fact, I fell in love with you that day.”

“Oh... really?” You glanced up at him in slight surprise. 

About a month after that fateful day, Mark officially asked you to be his girlfriend. However, even during that interim period as just friends, both of you knew that your relationship was bound to change. You believed that you were the first to fall, as his emotional support that day had made you grow attached to him over time. So, discovering that he fell for you first came as news to you.

Mark nodded, his eyes soft and filled with affection. “Yeah, I saw strength in your vulnerability and it drew me in. Seeing you made me want to become someone you could lean on.”

Blushing once more, you subconsciously played with his fingers. “Well, I'm grateful you didn't turn away from the girl crying on the street. I don’t know what I did to deserve someone as sweet and kind as you.”

“You didn’t have to do anything to deserve it. Sometimes, you just meet someone, and everything falls into place,” Mark replied, simply. “I’m lucky that happened to us.”

The two of you locked eyes for a moment before he tenderly cupped your face and leaned in for a kiss. Your lips met in a gentle dance, a silent acknowledgment of the love that had blossomed between you. Cradled in each other's embrace, both of you came to the profound realization that you had discovered where you truly belonged.

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