#MO' COMPLETE : HAVE A DREAM

[rmorde]

While still on my 2HA high, I really want to talk about Chu Wanning's love for Mo Ran.

It is strange, isn't it? How deep his love goes when he only met little Mo Ran for a short while.

IMO, Chu Wanning is like Goj0 Sat0ru - the strongest but the loneliest. Everyone puts them on a pedestal which isolates them from building true connections with others.

For example, Xue Meng obviously loves and cares for Chu Wanning. However, he deeply respects and fears him too. He never sits beside his teacher when eating after all.

Coupled with Chu Wanning's temper and horrible social skills, he is an intimidating figure that would be really difficult to befriend.

Then little Mo Ran barges into his life. He disregarded all the social propriety bullshit and straight up demanded Chu Wanning to pay attention to him. He reached out and interacted Chu Wanning as a person - not some powerful figure to be revered and feared. For someone who has been treated as almost a "nonperson" because of his abilities for his entire life, that simple demand was special and kind in Chu Wanning's perspective.

So, imo, Chu Wanning is like Goj0 and Mo Ran is his "Get0". He loves him because, through sheer luck (aka fate), he is the first to see him beyond his powers and treat him as a real person.

So the next question then is when did Chu Wanning fell in love with Mo Ran?

I don't really know. In the beginning of the new timeline, Wanning is already in love with Mo Ran - he feels jealous of Shi Mei and feels wrong about having such feelings. I guess his love grew over time? Kinda like how Shi Mei and Mo Ran developed their feelings for him.

Maybe that's the case in 0.5 too but far more complicated. Chu Wanning loved Mo Ran. Fell in love with Mo Ran but never did anything about it because of Shi Mei. Probably fell out of love because of Taxian-Jun being Taxian-Jun. However, Chu Wanning's love for Mo Ran still endured despite everything especially when he realized his former disciple needed saving.

As for lusting after Mo Ran, I can only say poor Chu Wanning in the current(second?) timeline. The guy's already in love and ready to take his forbidden feelings to his grave. However, the soul fragment 0.5 Wanning put into him made him remember all his horrific experiences as an abused sex slave by Taxian-Jun... which he misinterpreted as wet dreams and triggered his lust. What a fucking mess. It would have been funny if it weren't so dark and depressing.

#would be reading erha again just to be a bit more accurate in my interpretation #maybe i missed something #however chu wanning is really fascinating to read and analyze #the guy is not a perfect saint - he is kind but he is definitely not nice #he is not a paragon of logic and wisdom either and he has plenty of dumb moments too... which makes him really human #i mean.. his complete devotion to the first individual that treated him as a real ordinary person (aka mo ran) is fucking insane #i can't imagine how messed up things would have been if chu wanning's devotion was directed towards shi-mei instead #also yeah... i saw those sex scenes in chu wanning's dreams as horrific and sad #i think i don't need to explain in detail why they are horrific right? #it is sad at the same time tho because wanning in 2nd timeline was basically getting a resonant experience of his other self's abuse #however since it's just a resonance: the intense true terror and horror of it was gone #which made the whole experience easy to misinterpret as a kinky yet embarrassing wet dream.. which wanning (2nd tymln) end up running with

[physalian]

What No one Tells You about Writing Fantasy, #2!

I did this list about 7 annoyances about fantasy, but I write in this genre for a reason! Fantasy knows no bounds, it can encompass all other genres within it. You can write a fantastical murder mystery, fantasy horror, fantasy romance, political drama, slice-of-life, comedy, whatever you’d like!

Whether it’s urban or high fantasy, supernatural or scientific, here’s seven great benefits of writing in this genre:

1. No modern means of communication

Unless you’re writing a world with phones or phone-adjacent devices. Phones and instant communication seriously inhibits the plausibility of dramatic irony and tension when you have to keep coming up with reasons to keep your characters from calling or texting each other everything they know. It’s exhausting, I tell you, and such a relief when phones aren’t a factor.

With that said, without phones, you have complete freedom to design your own magical channels of supernatural FaceTime, as weird and zany as you want. But without instant connections? Your character who knew too much can’t pass on the intel before they die. Your hero team can’t call for backup in their darkest hour. Otherwise easily preventable tragedies and deadly miscommunications are now very real.

2. The Monster Allegory

Fantasy and sci-fi tend to overlap more than they’re set apart, and in that overlap sits the monster allegory. Everything from werewolves to vampires to witches, reapers, demons, angels, goblins, trolls, wraiths, fairies, mermaids, ghosts, to Eldritch horrors and your classic Hollywood cast of mummies, creatures from the black lagoon, and Frankenstein.

Most of the time, the monsters aren’t just monsters, they represent a monstrous aspect of society the author wants to challenge and caricaturize in a fun and entertaining way. Or, the monsters are the good guys and the humans are the real terrors. Or, you’ve got two kinds of monsters to allegory two human sides. Sometimes they represent metaphorical demons, like vampires often representing addiction and werewolves repressed identities.

What all of this boils down to is the hyperbolic nature of science fantasy that allows you to go over-the-top with your metaphor and allegory in a way that a book grounded in reality just can’t.

3. Magic Systems!

Do you love world building? Do you love filling pages upon pages with your cool and unique set of superpowers you want your characters to have? Do you dream about your fight scenes and dramatic slow-mo shots?

Then Fantasy is for you!

There are zero limits to how you want to define your magic system. You can go classic with the familiar archetypes of elemental magic, wizards, sorcerers, and witches. Or you can step off the beaten path and design a whole new funky system of power sets. Best part? Your readers will have an awesome time imagining themselves with those powers, and debating endlessly about how it works.

4. Real-World Politics, who?

Amazon’s Rings of Power was twice-doomed when they only got the rights to adapt the appendices of The Silmarillion and when they decided to inject current political problems into a timeless story written purposefully to be divorced from those politics. You *can* write about human politics, but in fantasy, you don’t have to. You *can* interpret Lord of the Rings to be an allegory about the World Wars, but no matter how hard you argue, it wasn’t written with that intent.

Which means: Even if your story is set in the reality-adjacent fantasy version of 1543, you are free from the following: Racism, homophobia, sexism, religious bigotry, mental health bigotry, gender norms, anti-feminism, toxic masculinity, and more. “But that’s how it was-”

Nope. This is fantasy. You built this world, you decided to keep in the discrimination. Or… You can fill your fantasy world with a rainbow of gays, POCs in power, women in power, men unafraid to be compassionate and caring, a religion that doesn’t foster hate and division, the list goes on. You. Are. Free.

5. Nothing is too “unrealistic”

Both that you will always have people whining about how X would never happen so write the book you want to read, but also because fantasy is fake. Fairies aren’t real. Mermaids aren’t real. There are no rules for how they must be written and that’s how we have so much variety with so much room for interpretation by so many creators. Twilight made how much money writing about vampires that sparkle like diamonds in sunlight and crack like marble?

This is fantasy, it’s supposed to be unrealistic. Yes, your plot should make sense, but don’t be afraid to get weird. Write at least some of your story dependant on those fantasy elements. Write a story that can’t just be told in the real world minus the spectacle. Don’t be afraid to be sincerely fantastical and weird. People love weird. People love loving weird.

6. You are in complete control

But you do still need to research, unfortunately. Unless this is urban fantasy that depends at least a little on the human world, yours is completely your own to govern like a god tweezing weeds from their garden. You get to design your own geography and weather patterns and seasons. Your own countries and kingdoms and politicians. Your epic pre-canon fantasy war and the stakes that it was fought over. Your species, races, and ethnicities.

It’s a shame that a movie like Avatar (2009) set out to be this wholly unique take on aliens with music completely divorced from earthly bonds, new languages and a visually and culturally distinct alien species… and ended up a largely generic blue Pocahontas in space. It forgot that it was fantasy and didn’t go weird enough. They have horses, monkeys, wolves, rhinos, and deer just re-skinned with some extra limbs and colors. It’s pretty but it’s so, so shallow.

It could have become a cult classic like many a positively *weird* 80s off-beat fantasies, and now it just… exists. It makes a whole lot of money but its impact on the cultural zeitgeist is negligible. I’m the only person I know that can name every major character in the movie, and I’m no Avatar obsessor. They had complete creative control, and this is what they did with it. Don’t be Avatar. Take your creative freedom and run.

7. Even if it has been done before, do it again

You can say this about any genre, particularly romance, but fantasy and sci-fi, by the gatekeep-y nature of their fans, can be a lot less forgiving when it comes to claims of “unoriginality”. No one hates Star Wars more than Star Wars fans. Fans of these genres can get… concerningly attached to their favorite stories (mostly because the people who like them had only their fictional heroes to protect them from very real bullies).

But Game of Thrones exists because the author likes Lord of the Rings and went “yes, but what if it was an R-rated parade of misery?” Dungeons and Dragons exists because people wanted to roleplay in an LotR-esque world. Legolas and Gimli single-handedly defined what a badass elf and dwarf looks like in high fantasy. And people still gobble up media ripping shamelessly, or even good-naturedly, from this one story.

So on my other list, I argued that the sum of your parts is still original, even if the components aren’t. On this list, I implore you this: It’s not stealing or appropriating to write another Legolas if you love Legolas. Everyone loves Legolas. How many generic buff action heroes do we have and love? How many Hallmark romances tread the same predictable path? Who gives a damn if it’s unoriginal? Just make it entertaining and have something fresh to say in the end (or don’t, that’s fine too), and people will read it.

And when people say “Oh, you mean like Legolas”, take it as a compliment, not an insult. Yes, exactly like Legolas. Here’s my new elf because I adore this other book, now watch him go on a new adventure that I wrote for him.

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #fantasy #scifi #writeblr #writing

[hoesformatt]

CAR SHOW

chris smut, ANOTHER DREAM COME TO LIFE (y’all i had real bad writers block after the bad turn out with my marathon)

dom!chris • poc!reader friendly

not proofread

contains: missionary, making out in an elevator, couch sex, public foreplay, oral (fem!recieving), fingering, pet names, missionary, no use of y/n, lots of touching/groping, BOLD CHRIS

word count: 1.4k

the smut starts off at a car show in chicago (obviously) very crowded and the whole nine, js telling y’all

Surrounded by all my girls and my hood, the streets were filled with people admiring and betting on the cars, you could guess this is would be straight out of fast and furious.

Slipping between people packed like sardines, Teanna and I searched to find Wicked. We approached the brown-skinned completely tatted up man with the blunt between his lips “Wicked, how much for that uhm— blue car ova there” I pointed even though there was people surrounding the car so you couldn’t even see it anyways.

“G, which blue car? There’s that mo’ fucking teal one, the navy one…” he went to list all of them then asking for the model of the car.

The navy hellcat began to backfire and I specified it putting in 500 hundred and Teanna went against my bet for the opposite bright-green car. We dapped up Wicked leaving the spot going towards our friend group but recognised an unfamiliar faces. I brushed shoulders with one of the boys and he looked back with him catching a glimpse of his glimmering blue-irises before his lips curled into a slight smile.

I tugged on Teanna’s matching jacket to mine to see if she noticed them “Where he from?” I singled him out.

“I don’t fucking know” I constantly went to glance back to him as he got farther til he was beyond me. Or not. He walked up to me about half an hour later already noticing those eyes from under the street lights “What car did you bet on?” He asked me semi-yelling over the loud voices around us.

“Navy blue— half a band” I answered pausing between my sentence “What’s your name” I quizzed “Christopher, and you?” He gazed out to search for what I was looking for when I wasn’t staring into his eyes.

“Sweet mama” I said jokingly cracking up between the syllables, he chirped his head towards me before scrunching his face and laughing his ass off. Christopher’s laugh was contagious as he held his stomach trying to calm himself down. He licked his lips with that cocky smile still plastered on his face “It’s just a nickname or whateva”

I choose not to tell men my name up in these places because I usually just have flings here and there and I didn’t want guys hitting me up after getting good pussy for the first time in they’re lives.

“Where’d you get 500 bucks to bet on cars?” Now he getting too curious but I couldn’t take my eyes off Chris’ handsome ass face, nose—so rideable, lips—so kissable, cheekbones—insanely sharp and eyes—so lustrous. “Are you from here? I ain’t never seen you out here” I averted the conversation while I analysed his build, he caught me wandering around inappropriate places “Nah, I’m from LA”

I stand correct, climbing closer to Chris’ body to feel the heat emitting from his body “I’ve never fucked no LA boy before”, we laughed together once again just chatting and our conversation escalated quickly as the pre-game alcohol I had began to flow throughout me.

At this point we were only waiting for the race’s to start but Chris was getting impatient as my back was facing him with him forearm cutely wrapped around my neck to pull my ass upon his crotch.

He discreetly parted my thighs that were before meshed together and started to move his hand up my skirt, his middle finger grazing the wet part of my panties. “You’re already soaking for me” Chris’ plump lips were felt on my ear as he whispered into them. Sliding a finger past my slick cunt, I whimpered quietly as if somebody could hear us. Chris teased my clit between his now two fingers until he removed them to slip them into my mouth making me suck my wetness off. “What are you tryna do mama” His sultry voice sung music in my ears.

“My penthouse is right back here” I pointed to the luxury apartment across the street not even five minutes away from where we were. I gripped on his wrist trudging through the large crowd, pushing everybody in our way including Wicked.

“What the fuck is you doing with LA” Referring to Chris I just rolled my eyes continuing to weave around people. Quarter past we finally got to my complex and our arousal peaked as he was stuck kissed at my neck while tightly holding my waist until we saw the elevator open in-front of us.

Chris and I climbed in as I groped his bulge through his black tinted jeans, palming him while the elevator doors closed slowly. He let his groan leave his mouth when the doors shut and we continued to mesh our lips, sloppily touching each other until he looked up at the elevator camera in the left corner then brushing it off gripping my breasts from under my skimpy tube top.

Not wasting time before the door opened, I pushed up knee to create friction against his bulge earning desperate moans from him. Chris’ lips lapped with mine, he grasped my neck drawing me in closer. “I need to taste you mama”

I hummed but the ding sound of the elevator arriving at my floor stopped me, Chris lifted me with ease and I helped him by wrapping my legs around his waist and I directed him to my door.

Dropping me once we got inside my place he locked the door behind him, getting back to me quickly tearing of my jacket to then stripping off my clothing, starting with my tube top—down to my miniskirt making me close to nude. Left with my lacy patterned bra and basic black thong (I knew I was getting dick tonight).

Chris laid me down on my back onto my L shaped couch, he split my legs, propping them up to yank off my thong to apply his face near my heat and licking at my clit. Sucking on it Chris eyes were one mine as his tongue danced along my warm folds taking off my wetness and replacing it with his saliva. “Chrissss”

His name dragged throughout my lips while Chris used his two finger to spread my sticky folds and inserting his index pushing it knuckle deep into my pussy. “You taste so sweet mama” Chris held my hips down because I was rocking them up too desperately for the warmth and plumpness of his lips. He separated from my cunt adding another digit in to stretch me out and prepping for his cock.

Abruptly pulling his fingers from my cunt and dragging me closer up to his crotch, Chris unzipped his jeans teasingly removing them. Fuck.

Chris’ cock was thick and lengthy making me shocked but not surprised. “You’re gonna take this dick like a good girl for me” I nodded in anticipation, watching him jerk his length on my entrance before leaning into me and inserting it leisurely as my eyes began to well with tears “So fucking tight, Shit”. Attempting to blink them off, the feeling of being stretched to my limits started off uncomfortable until Chris bent down to kiss the tears from my cheek while slowly sliding in and out of me.

Wet from my last orgasm he quickly adjusted in me with his hands were carefully held my waist. Beginning to pick up his speed, my body jerks along with Chris’ cock rubbing against my insides, pushing in harder and deeper with every thrust he took. Using his grip over my hips to brush my g-spot, I yelped loudly with the sensation it gave me “Right there Chris! Don’t stop— Yes!”

His groans got louder as my walls clamped around his length that was twitching inside of my pussy. The waves of pleasure shocked through my spine causing my back to arch fiercely along with my orgasm chasing me.

My moans and screams told Chris I was close “Cum with me baby, cum all over my cock” his lewd words drove me over my climax, my body trembling beneath him as he caressed my stomach alongside his length bulging out and the feeling of the warm liquids filling me up before he pulled out and the fluid spilled from my pussy and he pressed it back in.

Chris licked off the remaining moisture from the inner-thighs, piercing me with his icy blue eyes as he did it “I should stay for the night” Chris insisted. “But the show” I reminded him

“I can give you a show mama”

tags: @lunariaxzz @thesturniolos @angelic-sturniolos111 @littlebookworm803 @chrissturniolosbitch @leahsbussy @luv4kozume @alinaa131 @sturniolopowers @mattslolita @sturniofilmd @sturnioloooooo @mattsneezing @muwapsturniolo @idkwhosnyla @strniohoeee @iiheartstef @nonamegirlxsturniolo @ka1nani @1800chokedathoe @fuzzycupcakebeliever @mattgirly @mattslutt @nicksmainbitch @luhsexcbihh @hearts4chriss @riasturns

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fluff #sturniolo triplets #hoesformatt #fan fiction #fan fic #riyahspeaks #hoesforriyah #riyahsbadnessmarathon #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #Spotify

[waspsarebetterthanbeesanyways]

SVSSS AU where Original Shen Qingqiu | Shen Jiu, from around the time of his death, replaces Shen Yuan in the Water Prison. Luo Binghe is fanatically in love and rather deranged, and he looked away from SQQ for two minutes and comes back to SQQ who is traumatized and missing his limbs, tongue, eye and WHAT THE FUCK DID HUAN HUA DO TO MY SHIZUN??? Luo Binghe, Liu Qingge, and Yue Qingyuan are united, both in the absolutely awful time they’re having and their desires to RAZE HUAN HUA TO THE FUCKING GROUND. They’ve got all the demon realms and all the goddamn cultivation sects on their side.

Old Palace Master: *chuckles* I’m in danger!

SJ is has never been this confused in his life, and completely lacks the means to communicate this. LBH and Meng Mo try to search SJ’s dreams to figure out what happened but only find dreams about Luo Bingge. LBH absolutely will not let anybody know this until he’s found whichever monster stole his face.

And then Shang Qinghua gets in on the action. He sees SJ and frankly this is very traumatic for him, like how did things get worse than PIDW?! He promises “Cucumber-bro” that he’ll make sure he ends up in the plant body and now SJ is assumed dead! And Cang Qiong is trying to figure out who is the traitor who killed SQQ, and SQH is sweating buckets trying to pretend it wasn’t him.

___

Meanwhile, where’s Shen Yuan in this? Probably in SJ’s original place. System gives him an error message and then a mission to survive until he can be restored to the SVSSS timeline. He fucking books it and does everything in his power to keep away from LBG. With System being so cooperative, he manages with a lot of near misses.

Where does his side of the plot go from there? The obvious answer is that he manages to thoroughly wife beam LBG between all the near death experiences. The less obvious answer is that SY really gets along with all the many wives, and eventually to protect him they manage to assassinate LBG, Ides of March style. “Et tu, Ning Yingying?”

#svsss #scum villian self saving system #svsss au #I feel like somebody’s already written something similar? #but for the life of me I cannot remember where I would have read this

[starkwlkr]

a little too much | charles leclerc

a very happy dilf day to jenson button and sebastian vettel!

All week Ruby had been wiggling her loose tooth trying to get it to fall off. Ever since she was told that the tooth fairy would bring her money in exchange for her tooth, she was desperate for it to fall off.

“Ruby, don’t do that. It will fall off on its own, you just have to be patient.” Y/n said to the little girl after dinner. As Charles and Y/n cleaned up the dinner table, Ruby ran to the bathroom and checked her tooth in the mirror.

“Arthur should be the one to give her the money since he told her about the tooth fairy.” Charles joked. He already had money put aside for when Ruby finally lost her tooth and it was his job to slip in a couple of euros under the girl’s pillow.

“You know she told me she’s expecting enough to get that barbie dream house but she wants the one with the pool so her barbie’s can swim in it.” Y/n explained. Apart from talking all week about her tooth, Ruby also had her eyes set on the Barbie dream house she saw weeks ago in the store.

“She already has two of those. My mother got her one and I bought her the other one.”

“She has two because her papa couldn’t resist buying her anything she wants. What was it you said? Whatever Ruby wants, Ruby gets? I love you for making our daughter happy, but she doesn’t need a million toys.” Y/n kissed her husband’s cheek.

“She’s only little for a while, amour, I want to enjoy it while I can.”

A week later, Charles and Y/n were invited to a party by Joris. And of course Charles took advantage of the alcohol. Pascale had offered to look after Ruby so the couple could have a day off from parenting. Ruby loved being with her grand-mère. She even showed Pascale her loose tooth and when she tried to wiggle it with her tounge, she felt the tooth move more than it did before. Seconds later, Ruby spit out her tooth into her hand and proudly showed it to Pascale.

“The tooth fairy is coming!” She ran around the house holding her tooth.

“She is! How much do you think the tooth fairy is going to bring you?” Pascale asked the excited girl.

“A lot! I’m going to buy Barbie’s dream house that comes with the pool and all my Barbie’s are going to live in it.” Ruby explained.

By the time Y/n and Charles arrived home, Ruby was fast asleep with her tooth under her pillow. Pascale had informed them of it when they arrived. She also saw how Charles was being held up by Y/n since he had a little too much to drink.

“Thank you for taking care of my Ruby, maman.” Charles said as Y/n helped him up the stairs.

“Take care of yourself, Charles. I’ll see you two soon.” Pascale smiled and left the Leclerc house.

“I’m taping your hands so you don’t ever have another drink ever again.” Y/n teased.

“I will find a way to drink.”

When the couple finally made it to their room, Charles threw himself on his bed and let out a sigh. He missed his bed all day.

“I’m going to take a quick shower. Go to sleep, I mean it.” Y/n kissed Charles and walked to the bathroom.

While his wife was busy, Charles remembered about Ruby’s tooth. He groaned as he moved to his side to grab his wallet from his back pocket. Then he forced himself out of the bed and stumbled to Ruby’s room, trying to be quiet.

Ruby’s room wasn’t completely dark. She had rainbow night light illuminating her room. He gently lifted Ruby’s pillow and grabbed the small tooth then placed the money where the tooth was. He then managed to make it back to his room without Ruby or Y/n noticing.

When morning came, the first thing Ruby did was check under her pillow and what she found made her extremely happy. In school, her teacher had taught her about money and it’s value so when she counted it, she was 100% sure it was enough to buy her Barbie dream house.

In the kitchen, all the Leclerc’s had reunited for breakfast. Charles was still in pain, but with some painkillers and breakfast, he was soon recovering. Arthur had been teasing him all morning.

“So, how much did you give Ruby for her tooth?” Arthur asked.

“Four or five euros. She’s probably going to spend it on candy.” Charles replied, grabbing his orange juice and drinking from it.

“Papa! Maman! The tooth fairy gave me one hundred euros!” Ruby ran to the kitchen where she found her entire family eating breakfast. That made Charles choke on his drink and spill most of it on himself.

“Ruby, let me see,” Ruby handed her mother the money she was given. After double checking, it was clear that Ruby definitely had one hundred euros. “Wow, the tooth fairy did give you a lot of money.” Y/n glanced at Charles, who frantically searching for his wallet.

“Can we go buy Barbie’s dream house? My Barbies told me they want the one with the pool.” Ruby asked.

“Barbies don’t talk.” Arthur teased. He and Ruby always joked around with each other.

“Not to you.” Replied Ruby. “Ask uncle Enzo. Tour guide Barbie told him Italy is the best place to ask auntie Charlotte to marry him.”

Lorenzo nodded, playing along with the girl. “It’s true. Tour guide Barbie doesn’t lie.”

“Is there a teacher Barbie so she can teach your papa how to count?” Y/n asked.

Ruby stayed silent and thought about her collection of Barbies. Then she gasped. “There is.”

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc one shot #baby leclerc series #dad!charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Running an errand together brings out even more sides of Eddie Munson, including one that you wish you'd never seen (5.2k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, parental conflict, poverty, jealousy, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter six: the eye of the tiger

Guilt fit like the shoes your mom forced you to wear as a kid, the dressy ones reserved for special occasions. It pinched at you, dug into you, a constant reminder of its unwelcome presence.

And so you did everything you could to alleviate the discomfort. On Wednesday, Dad mosied into the lobby for his shift to find the floor meticulously swept; there was not a speck of dust in sight. If he had any suspicions, he didn’t bother to show them. He was probably just grateful for the help regardless of its cause.

Mom, as usual, was more skeptical of your intentions, raising a disbelieving brow when you presented her with the bills you’d reorganized by their due dates. You’d offered up the excuse of being bored with nothing better to do. Did she buy it? Unlikely. But she also didn’t pose further questions, choreographing another step in your dance.

And when Dad hung up the phone Friday afternoon, thumb and forefinger massaging the bridge of his nose, you jumped at the chance to fix the situation.

“Everything okay?”

He looked up with a start, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to realize you’d been standing in the doorway. 

“That was Uncle Mo,” he said with an elongated sigh. “The delivery truck won’t start; something’s busted, I guess, so we won’t get our wallpaper until it’s out of the shop.”

“I can go after class,” you volunteered. The shop was a twenty minute bus ride from school, no transfers required. Lugging it on the subway back home might prove more challenging, but you could manage it. 

He dashed your dreams with a swift shake of his head. “They close early for the Sabbath.” Which meant they’d be closed all day tomorrow, too. 

Dad glanced around at the walls, lip scraping over his bottom lip. Their barrenness unsettled him; his pride and joy left empty and exposed.  

Imagine how he’ll feel once this place is boarded up for good. Bet he won’t care about some ugly walls then. 

“I’ll go on Sunday.” The promise practically made itself before you could stop it. Your final paper was due on Tuesday, and you had planned to spend your weekend finishing it, but that would need to take a backseat until the wallpaper crisis was resolved.

You could be part of that solution. For now, at least.

Sunlight teased summer’s beginning and warmed your skin. The walk to the subway station required you to cross paths with the mailbox you’d fought with—and humbly lost to—a few days prior. Dejection shot through your chest as you paused in front of it, focusing on a spot of rusted metal where the paint had flaked off. Short of intercepting the United States Postal Service, there was nothing you could do. Besides, your acceptance was probably already locked inside NYU’s admissions office, sitting among a pile of identical envelopes. Most of them, you suspected, were mailed with exuberance and not with the trepidation you carried. 

The station’s stuffiness engulfed you as you descended the stairs, fingertips brushing the railing to ensure your balance. Your return trip would be short of torture, sweat prickling beneath your arms at the mere thought of dragging wallpaper through the thick humidity. You might have to splurge for a cab to avoid melting completely.

Frantic, impassioned guitar strumming grabbed your attention just before you approached the turnstile, echoing off of the concrete and infiltrating all of your senses. Your breath caught in your throat when you saw that Eddie was the source of the noise. He leaned against the wall as he played an electric guitar—the same one he had clutched so dearly when sleeping at the bus stop. There was no microphone, no amplifier; just him and his instrument. The case was open in front of him, now holding a few scattered dollar bills and some loose change. 

He didn’t notice you, not at first, so you took that opportunity to silently watch him. His head nodded along with the beat, his voice a low timbre as he sang. 

Trust I seek and I find in you 

Every day for us something new 

Open mind for a different view 

And nothing else matters

The chords were nearly drowned out by his vocals, and the softer strumming should have clashed with the harsh lyrics, but he made it work. 

It was somehow even sadder than when Metallica played it, though not from a lack of power. Eddie’s version intertwined anger with desperation, a somber reprise of the gritty original. 

Deft fingers pressed into the frets, the pick pinched between the other hand’s thumb and forefinger. He took a step forward to launch himself into the chorus with a combination of focus and ease. This is what he was meant to do, what he was born to do. Whether he was in front of a captivated audience of thousands or a smattering of indifferent commuters, he was a rockstar. 

Never cared for what they say

Never cared for games they play

Never cared for what they do

Never cared for what they know

And I know, yeah, yeah

Heat blossomed in your belly at his gravelly voice, the way he pulled the notes from the depths of his diaphragm and belted them out. The E train came and went as it screeched along the tracks, but you remained as though the soles of your feet were glued to the ground. 

So close, no matter how far

Couldn't be much more from the heart 

Forever trusting who we are 

No, nothing else matters

For a brief moment after finishing the song, Eddie’s chest puffed out with pride. It quickly faltered in the absence of applause, but before he could play another song, his gaze landed on you. He grinned and shook a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. Part of you wanted to fix it for him, to tuck it behind his ear or sweep it all back into a ponytail, but you refrained. Instead, you dug into your purse and tossed a dollar into the case. 

“Was that the one I gave you for the cab?” Eddie asked, fingers absently brushing over the strings in a series of random chords. 

“Nah, this was from the other asshole guest who made me late for class.”

Your jibe caught him off-guard and he actually laughed with such force that he had to stop playing. “And here I thought I was the only one.” He ran a hand through his hair, wincing as it snagged on a knot. “Are you going to the library or something?”

You lacked the energy to explain that the library was in the opposite direction, opting instead to cut to the chase. “Picking up the wallpaper.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed and he cocked his head. “I thought it was being delivered.” As you relayed the whole broken-truck saga, he started sliding the guitar strap up off of his back and crouched down, stuffing the money from the case into his pockets. “Cool. I’ll go with.”

“Oh, I wasn’t–” You paused mid-sentence to consider your words. “I mean, you don’t have to. I can do it on my own.”

“S’fine.” Eddie laid the guitar down with the fragility that one would handle a newborn baby and snapped the case shut. “Didn’t realize this station is basically dead on Sundays. I normally just play here during the week, but I’ve been out of commission.” He held up his bandaged finger and pouted impishly.

The familiar playfulness settled back into the conversation, breaking up any lingering awkwardness, and you snatched up the opportunity to tease him. “Ah, right. Your man stuff.”

“Very manly. Burly, some might say.” He extended one hand in front of him, palm up, to gesture towards the turnstiles. “Shall we?”

You led and he followed behind so closely that his chest smacked into your back when you stopped in your tracks. The uneven weight distribution, courtesy of the guitar case lolling at his side, thrusted him forward, the metal buckle on his belt digging into your skin through your shirt. 

It set off a domino effect, one that had you falling face-first to the ground. Before you could even brace for impact, you felt Eddie’s fingers digging into your hip and tugging you upright. The way he caught you was almost reflexive, his grasp controlled enough to avoid bruising your skin, but strong enough that you realized he could if he wanted to. 

“What happened?” His tone was mixed with both concern and amusement; a crackle of laughter broke up his question. 

An embarrassing adrenaline surge shot through you, bringing with it a chill that immediately preceded a heatwave of perspiration. “The, um…” You lamely pointed at the card swipe machines that had replaced the token receptacles. “I forgot that we need those MetroCard things.” 

Eddie let go of your hip and you felt his absence almost immediately. “No, we don’t.” He left no time for questioning, hoisting the case to the other side and pushing himself up and over the bar, landing on his feet with cat-like dexterity. 

You stared at him in disbelief. Sure, you’d jumped the turnstile a time or two, but that was back in high school, under the influence of friends you hadn’t talked to since. 

“What’re you waiting for?” He called out. A Cheshire-cat grin graced his lips. 

What were you waiting for? It’s not like the transit police were scouring the station. The poor schmuck stuck at the now-defunct token booth was exasperatedly trying to explain the new system to an older gentleman; he probably wouldn’t have noticed a wildebeest stampede. And you certainly weren’t eager to contribute to the politicians who lined their pockets with taxpayer money. 

Fuck it. 

In one swift motion—much more graceful than your earlier stumble—you mimicked his actions. One foot, then the other, your biceps supporting your body weight. 

“You little rebel.” Eddie tutted, his smirk showing off his teeth. You never noticed the way one canine is slightly sharper than the other, and it digs into his lower lip. “This is how it starts, y’know. One day, you’re skipping out on train fare; the next, you’re committing armed robbery.”

If he kept rubbing your nerves raw, you might be more tempted to commit homicide. 

Another E train arrived not long after. You were an expert at scouting empty seats, and you made a beeline for the first one you found. There was another one across the way, just vacated by a woman pushing a stroller, and you assumed Eddie would take it. 

Instead, he shoved his guitar case towards you, parting your legs between the knees, and grabbed onto one of the overhead handles. 

“Can you hold this?” Eddie asked belatedly. He rocked forward onto his toes as the train moved to keep his balance. A guitar pick necklace swung out from beneath the vee of his shirt and swayed above you. 

You drank in the way he towered over you, so close that he was all you could see. The mingled scents of the motel’s soap and a musky deodorant wafted off of him and enveloped your senses. For a second, there was only him, and whatever the outside world had to offer was just shy of meaningless. 

“There’s a seat down there.” You peered around him and gestured to the one you’d spotted earlier, careful not to point at anyone. 

Eddie looked but declined with a shrug. “Nah, I’m good. I like standing.”

“See, that’s the kind of thing that separates the natives from the transplants.” You smiled up at him. “You didn’t even want to sit down after a gig? Or a long rehearsal?”

“I didn’t really ever take the subway,” he admitted. “Maybe, like, once or twice.”

You huffed out an incredulous laugh. “How did you get around?” 

“Taxis, car service.” He ticked off the items on his free hand. “One time we rented a helicopter, but then the label threatened to revoke the company card.” He chuckled forlornly, like the memory was heavier than an impromptu helicopter ride. 

“Sounds like you were living the life.”

Eddie shook off his wistfulness with a cheeky grin. “Hell yeah. Expensive restaurants, swanky hotels…did I ever tell you about the time we trashed our room?”

“You did not.” You’re not sure you want to know, considering he’s currently staying in one of yours. 

He laughed. “Get this: we come back to the hotel after a gig. We’re all fuckin’ exhausted. As soon as we walk into the lobby, the night manager is on us like a hawk. I mean, the guy gave a stink eye like you wouldn’t believe.” He tried mimicking him, but he was too upbeat to embody the manager’s full ire. “Anyway, we’re not in the room for five minutes when there’s a knock on the door. Of course it’s that schmuck, warning us about the noise policy.”

You looked at him incredulously. “That’s why you destroyed a hotel room?” 

“Mhm.” Eddie proudly nodded, not missing the way concern furrowed your brow. “Don’t worry, Heiress. I’d never trash your place.”

“I’d have to get Phyllis after you.” Laughter bubbled out of you at his visible cringe, probably thinking of being on the other end of her baseball bat. “Okay, so what’s the dumbest thing you guys bought with the company card?”

People pushed through the aisle as the train pulled up to the stop, elbows nudging Eddie until he was practically on top of you. Every hair on your body stood up at the sudden change in proximity. “Probably one of those stuffed tiger things for our apartment,” he admitted.

“You and your band bought a taxidermied tiger?” You scoffed. 

His face flushed, and he scratched at his jaw like he’d been caught red-handed. “N-No, not the whole band. Just me and the drummer. We, um, she was my girlfriend, I guess.”

Puzzle pieces started falling into place and interlocking curves. His ex-girlfriend was also in the band, which was probably why they broke up once Eddie quit. “How long were you two together?” You instantly regret not asking about the tiger instead, for his sake and yours. 

“Hard to say; we were pretty on-and-off.” Eddie tried to play it off casually but terse laughter gave him away. The subway lurched and Eddie swayed forward again, his knee grazing yours. “But it was about a year from start to finish.”

You let the information sink in. He had a girlfriend in Death’s Echo, but he seemed to be unattached at the moment. Made sense, considering he was living in your motel rather than with a partner.

“That’s what no one tells you about money: it runs out.” Eddie continued. “It’s like, common sense or whatever. But when you have no money and then you get a shit-ton of it, it’s hard to imagine ever going back.” 

His eyes found yours like he had been searching for them, and you held his gaze until a monotone voice crackled over the speaker, announcing that the train was approaching the Forest Hills-71st Avenue station. 

“We have to transfer here.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose, clearly not thrilled by this extra step, but he followed your lead without any audible protest.

“Y’know,” he said as the doors opened, the two of you joining the swarm of people pushing their way out, “my neighborhood back home was also called Forest Hills.”

“Seems fancy,” you quipped. 

He laughed, head thrown back. “Oh, yeah. It’s the most glamorous trailer park in all of Indiana.”

The faux pas curdled in your stomach. What were you thinking? He had just confessed that he was broke before Death’s Echo. 

“Sorry, that was stupid.”

He shrugged off your comment, seemingly unbothered. “How many stops is this next one?”

“Just two.”

He hummed his acknowledgment, and with the R train less crowded than the E, you found seats adjacent to one another.

You did your best to ignore the way his right leg brushed your left, the worn denim against your bare skin as the train jostled him. He murmured a barely-audible “sorry.”

There was no reason for him to apologize, and you almost told him this, but you substituted a tight smile for words. Truthfully, you were glad he confirmed that the touch was accidental. You’d nearly nudged him back, a secret handshake of sorts, and your body burned with the mere prospect of embarrassment.

The train screeched to a stop in front of a sign that barely read 63rd Drive-Rego Park, most of the letters covered in colorful graffiti tags. 

“This is us,” you said, handing him back his guitar so you could stand up. 

Eddie stepped aside with a small bow, equal parts awkward and endearing. ���So, uh, where are we going, exactly?” He stayed close enough so you could hear him over the cacophony of commuters. 

“S’just a few blocks.” You maintained your fast-paced stride so as to not get bowled over. 

He kept up with you surprisingly well for someone unused to navigating the city’s public transit. The fresh air welcomed you as you ascended the stairs, leaving behind the station’s mugginess. Conversations and traffic replaced metallic clunking while you weaved in and out of a sea of pedestrians, checking every so often to ensure you hadn’t left Eddie behind. 

Bold white letters on a maroon awning proudly proclaimed Eisen’s Paint and Supply, and the faint sound of bell chimed when you opened the door. A middle-aged man stood behind the counter, eyes lighting up when you walked in. 

“Uncle Mo!” You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. Uncle Mo wasn’t your father’s brother, but their bond went beyond blood relation. He was part of nearly all of Dad’s stories since they’d met in high school: the good, the bad, and the ugly. 

There was more gray in his hair and in his beard than the last time you’d seen him, the lines from his lips to his jaw more pronounced, but he still wore the same cologne that you’d remembered. The familiar scent was like home, a reminder of all of the Thanksgivings your families had spent together before the motel engulfed your life. 

He beamed, his hands bracing your upper arms as he got a better look at you. “Look at you; so grown up!” His eyes misted over for a second before he blinked the moisture away. “How long has it been?”

“Too long.” You turned back to Eddie, waving him over and introducing him. Uncle Mo politely extended a hand that Eddie shook quickly before shoving his fingers back in his pocket. 

“Before I get your paper,” Uncle Mo said to you with a mischievous smile, “I have a bit of a surprise.” The stockroom door swung open on cue and a young man stepped out from behind it. 

Your hand flew to your mouth in shock, every bone in your body vibrating. “Ben?” The name was muffled but still audible, and Ben opened his arms just in time for you to tackle him in an embrace.

His gangly teenage limbs had been replaced with hard muscle, his chest straining through his t-shirt. There was no trace of the wispy excuse for a mustache he’d once proudly sported; his face was freshly shaven, only the slightest evidence of his stubble scratched against your cheek when he pulled you to him. 

“I couldn’t believe it when my dad told me you were stopping by,” Ben said, finally letting go after a few moments. He looked at Eddie as if noticing him for the first time. “Ben. Nice to meet you.”

Eddie said nothing in response, his jaw set and his arms crossed over his chest. Whatever friendliness he’d shown Uncle Mo was clearly not being granted to his son. 

“Ben, this is Eddie,” you hurried to explain before the tension became unbearably dense. “He works for the motel, doing different repairs and odd jobs. Whatever we need, really.”

Your old friend nodded and brought his attention back to you. “Do you guys need help bringing the wallpaper back? I don’t have anything to–”

“We’ve got it.” Eddie cut him off curtly, clipping the conversation’s wings. His eyes narrowed in judgmental assessment and their milk chocolate hue turned dark.

Ben had evidently stepped on his toes; you thought back to the wasp’s nest and his adamance to clobber it with a baseball bat despite your insistence to wait until you bought the spray. You shot Eddie a look that he either disregarded or didn’t notice, because his clenched jaw never loosened. 

“Right, yeah.” A blush crept into Ben’s cheeks, the other man’s brusqueness catching him off-guard. “But we should catch up soon,” he said to you, “maybe grab a cup of coffee?”

It was an effort to ignore the way Eddie tensed up; even more so to pretend like his reaction hadn’t stirred something inside of you. Everything between you and him, and you and Ben, was strictly platonic. Whatever melodrama he’d conjured up was his problem, not yours. 

Your relationship with Eddie teetered between acquaintances and friends; he was in no position to get bent out of shape over you going for coffee with Ben or any other man.

You pushed the intrusive thought away long enough to answer Ben’s question. “Yeah, of course! You’re home for the whole summer?”

“Actually…” Ben’s grin widened, harboring a secret he was eager to spill. “I’m back for good. You’re looking at Dr. Benjamin Eisen, D.D.S.”

“That’s amazing!”

He nodded happily, enthusiasm unrestrained. “Thanks. I’m hoping to open up a practice nearby, so I’ll be sticking around for a while.”

That was the best news you’d heard in a while. The pair of you were once inseparable, always devising plans to convince your parents to extend their visits. When you were six, you’d almost started a fire trying to put on a pot of coffee, hoping that it would coax the Eisens into staying longer. 

Too bad you’d forgotten to add the water. 

Uncle Mo returned from the stock room with rolls of wallpaper, and his son shuffled towards him to take one from his grasp. 

“Are you sure I can’t help out?” Ben tried again. He only looked at you when he spoke. 

You almost took him up on his offer, the reply sitting on the tip of your tongue, but Eddie answered for you. 

“We’re good,” he said flatly, taking the rolls from the other men. “I used to lug around amps all the time. This is nothing.”

He’d uttered the same phrase before taking a bat to a wasp’s nest, and he’d ended up hurt. Still, inviting Ben along would almost certainly guarantee an awkward commute home. At best, you’d force stilted small talk; at worst, Eddie might shove Ben onto the tracks. 

“Thanks anyway,” you said politely, trying to temper your irritation. 

Ben gave a tight smile, brows shooting up when remembered something. “Let me give you my new phone number so we can set up a time to meet up.” He plucked a business card from the little plastic container on the desk, flipping it over and scrawling his number on the back. 

“Sounds great.” It truly did, save for Eddie’s glare that made you grateful looks couldn’t actually kill. 

Tucking the card into your purse, you held him in one last hug before bidding them goodbye. 

Eddie said nothing the entire walk back to the subway station. He strode there despite heaving around a guitar case and cylinders of wallpaper. You suspected he could have flown there if he wasn’t so bogged down. The closest he came to acknowledging your presence was the scoff he let out when you veered off-course to buy a MetroCard. 

You ignored him, still fuming over his behavior towards Ben. With trembling fingers, you dropped your change into the coin slot, acutely aware of his presence as he stood beside you. He was close enough that you could hear his tense sigh, as though his frustration was justified.

Yanking the card out from behind the swinging Plexiglass, you silently stalked over to the turnstile, Eddie begrudgingly hot on your heels. The tiny diagram showed the magnetic strip facing downwards and you did your best to emulate it. After two failed swipes, the machine relented and gave an approving beep.

“Go,” you told Eddie, and when he stared at you blankly, you repeated yourself with considerably less patience. “Go.”

“Okay, okay.” There was no hiding his surprise at your insistence, the sharpness of your tongue. He obviously wasn't accustomed to taking the attitude he dished out. His eyebrows crashed into his hairline as he maneuvered through, wallpaper bumping up against the metal gates. 

There wasn’t enough money left on the card for you, so after a brief glance at your surroundings, you once again lift yourself up and over to the other side. The metal barrier seemed laughably obsolete beneath you.

Eddie blinked twice in rapid succession but composed himself before you reached him again. A peculiar expression graced his face; not so much amusement as much as admiration. If you weren’t so annoyed with him, with his antics back at Eisen’s, you might have cracked a joke about his bad influence rubbing off on you. 

The first leg of the trip—the shortest part, as it were, went smoothly. It was once the E train departed from Forest Hills that it almost immediately halted, the exasperated conductor announcing that extensive track work was causing delays. 

“Fucking great,” you muttered. Experience told you that the remainder of the ride would be stop-and-go, which meant more time spent with Eddie. 

He’d exhaled an exasperated sigh of his own, eyes flickering over the subway car and foot tapping to a beat only he could hear. When he finally spoke, it was the last thing you’d expected him to say. 

“Wanna play I Spy?”

“Um, what?”

“Y’know, I spy with my little eye…” he explained, as though you were confused about the game concept.

It took every last ounce of energy not to burst out laughing at his odd request, though it helped that annoyance still tarnished your mood. “All right. Sure.” 

“Cool.” He glanced around again, rubbing his palms over his thighs in concentration. “Okay, I spy with my little eye, something purple.”

Squinting, you searched for shades of lilac and violet. “That woman’s shirt?” You jutted your chin towards an older woman sitting across the car. 

“Nope.”

“That little girl’s shoes?”

Eddie just shook his head, his dimples gradually deepening with each wrong answer you gave. 

Your next three guesses were also incorrect, and Eddie triumphantly pumped his fist when you admitted defeat. 

“It’s the words on that sign,” he said, pointing to an advertisement for psychic readings. 

It was your turn, and it didn’t take you long to find your target. 

“I spy with my little eye, something…douchey.” Your gaze never left his face, watching the skin crease between his brows as he connected your implication. 

Eddie threw his head back and cackled, drawing the ire of your fellow commuters. You shushed him with a hiss, his apathy only fueling your anger. 

“Fine, I guess I deserved that.” He leaned back in his seat and stretched his arms upwards. For a second, you thought he might drape one over your shoulders, but he brought them right back to his lap. 

“You guess?” You gawped, and he laughed even louder. “You were a total asshole to Ben for no reason.”

Eddie’s voice got feather-soft; you had to lean in to hear him. “Trust me; I had a reason.”

You snorted. “What, him offering to help carry the wallpaper threatened your ‘man stuff?’”

“Something like that.” 

Crossing your arms, you shot him a bemused grimace. Whatever testosterone-laden excuse he concocted would just strengthen your irritation, so you saved yourself the headache and  plundered on. 

“Ben and I have been friends since I was born.” That wasn’t an exaggeration; a photo of one-year-old Ben holding newborn you was tucked away in one of Mom’s albums. Dad had snapped the photo while Uncle Mo sat next to his son, helping cradle your head. You were only a few hours old. “Whatever your problem is, don’t make it mine. Or his,” you add.

Eddie had no response to that, and you preferred it that way. Maybe he was learning not to argue with you, especially when he was so obviously wrong.

Your response halted all conversation for the rest of the extended ride and continued during the short trek back to the motel. The quiet was necessary, but not peaceful, and you refused to buckle when an invisible pull urged you to talk again, to push past the discomfort. If you couldn’t outright tell him that he’d upset you, the least he could do was feel that anger.

“Where do these go?” Eddie asked once the motel’s doors closed behind you. You pointed to the supply closet and he ambled over, wincing as the hinges squeaked in a plea for lubrication. “All right, so, I can get started on this tonight if you want.”

You considered this for a moment before shaking your head. The lobby could survive another night with bare walls, but you needed a break. A break not just from Eddie, but from his naivety to his actions having consequences. 

“Tomorrow’s fine.”

He stilled, his hands halfway in his pockets. “I mean, I was going to stop by anyway; I might as well—”

“I think I just need some quiet tonight.” It was the nicest response you could muster, though the way the words passed through your clenched teeth gave away your annoyance. 

“Oh.” His cheeks puffed out as he exhaled a breath of air, his eyes refusing to meet yours. Confusion tied his tongue, but if he didn’t realize the mistake he’d made, you were in no mood to spell it out. He waited a beat for you to follow up, to iron out the creases with an explanation that had nothing to do with his earlier behavior, but that never happened.

The lack of reassurance pained you, too. You despised leaving matters unfinished; part of you wanted to apologize—for what, you weren’t sure—just to have some resolution. 

Eddie raked his fingers through his curls. “Well, I’m sorry for pissing you off, or whatever.”

Or whatever. Those two words almost had you smacking him upside the head with the wallpaper tubes. Maybe sealing his lips with the glue, too. 

The worst part was the shock on his face when you’d wordlessly stormed out of the supply closet towards your room. Like he had no idea what he’d done wrong or why his non-apology fell flat. 

No, that was a lie. The worst part was actually the pang of disappointment in your chest when there were no footsteps pounding down the hall, no knock on your door, no attempt to talk through the situation. As much as you wanted to be left alone, you’d clutched to an optimistic sliver that he would follow you. It was a pathetic need for proof that he cared about you as more than just his employer. As his friend.

But there was nothing.

That silence hurt most of all. 

--

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[heecyon]

𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 & 𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒; 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 —teaser

pairing: ceo!park sunghoon x coffee shop owner!fem!reader

genre: one night stand, fake relationship, strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, and accidental pregnancy.

summary: Park Sunghoon was done with his grandfather begging for an heir. Being the CEO of the Northern Branch, Sunghoon wasn't ready for a relationship just yet and neither was he ready to have a baby. So, after being arranged a blind date, he meets you, and soon convinces you to run away with him far away from your dates, as you were arranged a blind date as well with a different guy. And after a night of talking, flirting and alcohol, you both ended up in an hotel bed. Being attracted to an stranger wasn't in your plans, but soon everything goes to hell when you discover that you are pregnant with sunghoon's child.

release date: between late november and mid-december

2nd installment for CEOs & ARRANGEMENTS with enha 02z

“So, you’re a CEO?”

Sunghoon’s cheeks blushed from the amount of alcohol that he had chugged down. And you were not innocent, either, your hair was kind of messy from how much time you had combed it back with your fingers, and your mind was racing in a million places because of the two bottles of Henri Bourgeois that you had shared with the flushed boy in front of you.

“Yep, Park Sunghoon, Northern Branch.” His voice came out like a tumble, his mind not processing what his sentences meant. He was not a person to drink, he usually did not do it, especially with a person he just met, and especially not in his hotel room, but tonight he felt in a place of trust, and you felt the same, except that the only difference was that you were somebody to drink with friends, but not with people who you had just met.

You pressed your elbows against the table, your teeth clutching against the tip of your nail. “Who would’ve thought that I’d be sitting in front of the famed Park Sunghoon? I guess it’s a one-in-a-million-type of situation.” “Especially, if I’m getting drunk on glasses of wine while having him sat across from me.”

“Who would’ve thought? I just came to New York to finish some unsolved company partnerships, and now I’m ending my trip with a forced blind date that I just escaped from, with a pretty, tipsy girl who I took with me in the process.” He answered sluggishly, his brows lifting up with sarcasm as he spoke.

Your brain suddenly stopped tracing around, by just emphasizing one word he said.

“You think I’m pretty?” Your voice came out like a wave, a small smile setting on your mouth.

“Why wouldn’t I? You are the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen.”

“It makes me happy that you think I’m pretty, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t think that I’m pretty. I’m pretty sure that I’m pretty.” You suddenly rambled, the words came out fast as a train, all because your nerves and the alcohol took complete control over you. But, Sunghoon just found it funny in his drunken state, he found it adorable, to say the least.

He was almost slushed on the table, his arm being completely settled on the wooden board.

For you, he looked so handsome, his arms were toned, and it was visible against his dress shirt, his fingers slender and delicate, you were convinced that his hands were soft as silk pillows.

But his face was absolutely gorgeous, with features that could've been chosen by the Greek Gods themselves.

"You are so handsome, like really handsome, the type of handsome that was kissed and blessed by Aphrodite and Princess Diana." The words vomited out of your mouth like a splutter. You weren't expecting your drunken state to reveal such a thought, but when you looked at Sunghoon it didn't seem to bother him.

"Kissed by Aphrodite and Princess Diana? Never heard of such compliment." His voice came out slurred and dazed, but it sounded as if he was in a dream-like state.

His lips were red and glossy, his eyes shone from the reflection of the New York lights. The more you looked at his lips, the more you wanted him to touch every part of your body.

"Well, now you've heard it…"

He tapped his chin for a moment before unexpected words came out of his mouth.

"What if I told you that it would be a real compliment if you told me that I was kissed by you?" Your heart skipped a beat as your stomach fell and came back up from the impression. Your heartbeat quickened and did everything it could to go back to normal.

You got up from your chair, walking towards him with tremendous mischief. I'm pretty sure it was the immense amounts of alcohol acting up for you.

His figure sat in front of you, his gaze analyzing every single part of your body, especially your lips, and the shimmer on your eyes.

"Do you want me to kiss you?"

"Oh, Cindy! I want you to do that and more."

Never in your life did you think that you would be taking a pregnancy test inside a pharmacy bathroom.

But you were going through desperate times. It needed to be done as quickly as possible. It was mostly because you needed to calm your frantic nerves and also get out of any doubts that you had. The worst part was the fact that you wouldn't be worrying about this if you just didn't run away from your blind date with a complete stranger.

Complete stranger that could possibly be the father of this possible baby.

You just needed to confirm if you were actually pregnant.

"Shit!"

Two lines.

#oceans & engines; ceos & arrangements #ceos & arrangements #sunghoon x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #enhypen #enhypen au #enhypen ot7 #enhypen smau #sunghoon enhypen #enhypen sunghoon imagines #enhypen jay imagines #enhypen jake imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #sunoo enhypen #jungwon enhypen #jungwon x reader #jay x reader #enhypen jay fluff #enhypen jake fluff

[argreion]

Who's a Good Boy?

Val Here --- Just a small little thing of pure smut I wanted to do! LITERALLY JUST HORNY ASS LEON! No actual fic today, just at least wanted to write something and do a small me day. We'll do normal dog hybrid Leon soon dw guys! This is only just my brainworm screaming at me! Puppy boy Leon!!! ❤️ (Not proofread, and a little wonky.)

Word count: 811

Warnings: Somno-ish! Small breeding mention. Pussy munch Leon, non-con, and P IN V! Leon trying to be helpful, but really just ruining your sleep and possibly your life in minutes. Literally, this could be triggering to some, so please don't read if you're sensitive to something like this!

FEM READER!

You just smelt so good as you laid in bed to Leon. The way you tossed and turned, completely vulnerable to him. Playing with yourself earlier as he 'napped' in the living room. Oh, you're such a dirty girl, miss owner!

Salivating as he stood over your sleeping form, half of the comforter covering your body. Taunting his little mind to just take you then and there. Gently, he pulled the comforter off your body. Eyes wide as he saw exactly what he wanted.

Your panties. Sitting perfectly on your rear, and drenched with your wetness. Don't worry, he'll clean up for you!

Inching closer towards your sleeping form, eyes watching as you twitched. So cute, only if he knew how to use— uhm, a phone! That thing you always used to call! And to take those cute photos of him!

Palm gently pressing against the mound, letting his fingers go between your clothed folds and rub. So good… He gets to touch you! Nose pressed against you, sniffing to his heart's delight. Watching as you had no response, this was perfect. He should've tried this sooner, just laying there all for him!

Leon couldn't help it as he began to suck on your panties, sucking the juices out of them. Lapping at your panties like a man depraved of food.

Pushing himself further up on your bed, gently turning you onto your back. Cutting panties off like it was stealing candy from a baby. Finally being able to push his mouth into your pussy. Lapping up your folds and sucking on your clit. Humping your sheets furiously as his eyes rolled into the back of his skull.

Moaning pitifully as his cock dribbled down, staining your sheets. You'll have to put a few quarters in the laundry mat to clean that up. Oblivious to the fact, you were slowly waking up…

Why was there something wet down below? D-did I have a wet dream?

Shakily, you reached down to check. Only being met with a lock of hair, squeezing it.

Leon paused, feeling your hand on his hair, panting against your cunt. His eyes became glazed over as he met your gaze. Blue eyes meeting your wide ones.

“You're up!” He yipped, instantly jumping on you. Scrambling to lick at your face.

You couldn't help but scream, watching as he forcefully mounted on. Cock in-between your folds, rutting against the slickness.

“I-it's ok! It's me! Don't you love me? I love you!” Leon panted, sloppily kissing you as he finally thrusted into your weeping hole.

Whining happily, his tail hitting his behind as he hammered into you like a rabbit. Tears going down your face as you stared at him. Attempting to shove his face off as he used you. You taught him to be better!?

In all honesty, he was pent-up. Seeing such cute girls at the park, their owners, you? You were so beautiful! Always praising him for sitting and getting his shots! Helping him with his ruts! Why not let him repay you? Leon is just so grateful for you, miss owner!

Trying to kick at him as he fucked into your tight hole proved futile. Even if he was relatively normal looking, being a hybrid had other… 'Privileges'. That being, he was stronger than you, with the mixed DNA in his body.

“Get off of me, LEON” You cried, slapping at his body. Feeling his hips abruptly stop as he looked down at you. Dazed eyes glancing down.

“G-get off? Why? Don't you feel good? You're all wet! I can help you, you helped me!” The puppy whined, tail moving between his legs as he started to thrust more.

He cried, smothering himself into your chest. Getting his slobber all over your shirt as he basically violated you.

“This isn't right! There are different ways!” Your back arched as he kept pistoning into your sweet spot. Nipping up your neck, giving you hickey's and bruises.

Only cries came from your lips as you felt something the size of a baseball push past your opening. Gripping the pillow beneath yourself as you braced for the pain. Expanding as Leon grew more primal, clearly not in the right state of mind.

“I'll help you feel better, m-miss… When you'll have my puppies! And you don't have to work! I can help you! Let me help you!”

You cried as you felt him empty himself deep inside you. Hips stuttering as he clawed at the sheets. A pleasured look on his face.

Leon panted, his tail wagging as he laid on top of you. Wrapping his arms around you as you shook in place. Love radiating off of him, as you laid there in utter shock. Frozen as you realized what happened. Tears going down your face.

How were you going to explain this to your friends and parents?

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Guessing Game

My lovely little Ghost pregnancy not short Drabble.

Word Count: 7.7k

- - -

Moments of silence with your husband were usually tranquil and serene in the comforts of your own home. It was rare for the aura between you both to be fueled with unbridled tension and hesitation to even breathe properly.

The two of you said nothing for the longest time in the sanctuary of your living room, on your comfortable couch. In the silent man’s hand, he held a test, which he proceeded to set down on the coffee table in front of him.

Positive.

A little pink sign on a tiny screen, bright as day, staring at you both like a sore thumb.

That’s supposed to be a good thing, Positives usually mean good things. Happy, joyful, erratic, exciting. Good.

Positives however, can also be scary, terrifying, petrifying.

Your heart sank deep into the bottom of your stomach, a dreadful ache following suit that lingered as every minute passed in this silence.

You hated it, but you didn't know what to say.

It started off as an odd feeling, just a couple of days ago. A bit of dizziness in the morning, a slight queasiness after, but nothing more. You blamed it on allergies, or a migraine due to lack of proper sleep, anything but that single, simple idea of what it could’ve been.

The signs grew more unquestionably obvious with every day passed, the sickness, the shift in your emotions, the sinking feeling as the possibility grew more and more intense with each passing hour.

You went out during a grocery run, and couldn't stop yourself from arriving at a pharmacy, heading towards that one particular aisle containing just what you needed.

You didn’t even know when or how-

You stopped yourself right there. You’d be an absolute fool if you considered finishing that thought for a sentence.

You know how it happened, of course you knew. Question was, you couldn’t exactly remember when. It sort of happened quite often.

Just for good measure, you had also bought three other boxes, which were currently jumbled in your bathroom sink, each revealing the same exact message.

A part of you, a tiny part of you, buried underneath all the stomach burning anxiety and dread of this new onset reality was kind of delighted, excited in fact, bringing forth upon you a wish you never realized you’d forgotten about. One you believed you had no right to have after the life you lived.

To have a baby with the man you loved, truly loved. A fair amount of the population’s absolute dream.

An honest, beautiful dream, but for all you knew, it was only yours. At one point, not once did you ever think if it was his dream as well.

That was until a few weeks ago once it was brought up, during a late-night discussion in bed.

“How do you feel about a baby?”

An honest, curious question had never made the man stiffer in his life, feeling his hands on you grow stiff like dead branches before he released you, catching you completely by surprise.

The both of you were stable, financially at least. Emotionally however, all that bustled through Simon’s head were the great cons that outweighed the pros.

An honest, simple question turned into a forty-minute discussion over both your heavy worries and concerns. His concerns, his fears, his terror of bringing a version of himself to this dangerous, unpredictable world of chaos and death, bred by the man who enjoyed creating such.

You reassured him constantly, by then just wishing to end the topic then and there. An honest question grew too harshly awkward, painfully dragged out at the realization that Simon may not have wanted children at all.

It was a thorn you shouldn’t have pricked your finger on, so you were content to step back and let the topic go.

Simon’s face, brows contorted with distress still, realized your ache at this discussion. You didn’t wish to scare him, and the last thing he wanted was to scare you, which was exactly what he was doing.

When it came to you, his heart softened at the reality of you being the doe eyed mother of his child, born with your love and beauty, your charisma and valor. A headstrong boy or girl with a mother like you to guide them along the way, this world lacked that kind of bond in the places no one dares to check.

“Is this something you want?” Simon finally speaks his mind, concerned over what was going through yours.

Immediately, you begin to release everything, slowly listing out a series of options that came to the top of your head, ones he wasn't expecting to hear. Going to a clinic, figuring out your options, that sort of thing if he didn’t want the baby.

Simon immediately stops you from speaking further.

“Forget about me for just a second,” Simon states, realizing he may have come off too harshly on this matter towards you, potentially giving you the wrong idea.

“What about you?” He asks in a calm, softened tone. Me?

“Is this something you want?”

You hesitate, glancing everywhere but him as your fingers clench at the bedsheets.

His hand takes yours, his other lightly sweeping through your hair. “Tell me the truth. I won’t force this on you.”

You look him in the eyes, those eyes you absolutely adored.

Oftentimes, you hear him say he doesn’t deserve you, but sometimes you can’t help but find him adorable for him being blatantly unaware of when you think in vice versa to this.

His consideration on your behalf melted your heart to its very core.

“I’ve always wanted this, Simon.” You admit, unable to hold back the tears as you look down.

“At one point in my life, I never even thought of it, but lately… “ You huffed out a weak laugh, wiping your soaked cheeks with the back of your fingers.

“I don’t know, I’ve always wanted to be a mom, but there’s so many worries I have.”

“Like what?” He asked.

“If I’d even be a good mom,” you proceeded, the tears continuing to fall. “If I could even take that responsibility, if the man I thought I’d marry when I wanted to grow up would be there alongside me all the way and have a cute little family.”

The dreadful worries began to crowd your head, much against your better judgment. If you’d carry them to full term, if Simon would stay the entire way, if he second guessed and didn’t want the baby any longer, or if something happened to the baby?

He holds you close, cradling your head close. Softly, he hushed against your forehead, his nose pressed against the crown of your hair.

“But, what if you don’t want-“ you proceeded, feeling his head shake against your head.

“No,” he stops you. “Don’t say that, love.”

He goes quiet, growing lost in his thoughts as you continuously sniffle, patiently wiping your eyes repeatedly. His comforting hug felt so stiff, so foreign, so tense. You always melted in his embrace, but the hesitation that flooded your bones prevented you from doing so.

“I don’t know if I can hold that responsibility of bein’ a good father.” He brings himself to admit, a personal truth that hurts even him to exhale it. Maybe it’s the shock still setting in that makes him say this, but it's still pure, brutal honesty.

Your heart sinks at those words. Even if you were to try to convince him that you could physically see him pacing around a pink or blue tinted nursery, swaddling a baby in his broad arms, he’d never see it that way, feeling himself incapable of clutching something so delicate and pure in his hands.

Never did he see himself being a good father, compared to the life he had, but your words gave him a bit of an epiphany.

If the man you wanted to marry during your childhood’s hopeful dreams was going to remain to help raise a beautiful child and have a happy family, that didn’t mean you’d be doing it alone. He’d take on this role, and he wanted to stay beside you, regardless of it all.

A child with your eyes sounded wonderful. It was interesting really, you were thinking the exact same about him, the excitement and anxiety deep down in both your stomachs still.

“But I want to try,” Simon admits, holding your hands securely in his.

- - -

“Can we start this over?” You spoke up, breaking through this painfully tense silence you’ve felt unable to sit through for a second longer.

He quietly nodded, watching you rise up, plucking the test from the coffee table before walking out of the living room.

You stopped in the middle of the hallway, feeling your fingers trembling as your nerves refused to settle.

This wasn’t how you wanted this to go. You wanted to surprise him in some cuter, more innocent way, but he had caught you completely by surprise as you opened the bathroom door, finding Simon standing on the other side.

Seeing his head tilt down and catch a glimpse of that test immediately destroyed every possible opportunity to surprise him, though you knew it was something you couldn’t be disappointed at forever.

Taking a calm breath, you gather up all the excitement you could muster in your body before turning around, quickly heading back towards the living room entryway.

Before you could muster a word, you were met with a strong wall of warm, black shirt clad muscle, your husband enveloping you in his broad arms, clutching you like his only saving grace.

Simon heard your laugh erupt from your lips, this sudden gesture catching you by surprise as you hugged him back, feeling your feet lift off the floor once you secure your arms around his neck.

With your happiness came tears, joining in with your wide smile. Simon’s eyes glistened with pure, raw emotions, consisting of adoration and raw, unfiltered love the second he looked into your eyes before flooding you with passionate kiss after kiss.

He was scared though. He would always be scared, but for now, he turned his walls into open gates, allowing you to flood his very being with warmth and light, feeling the happiest he’s ever been, following second to his proposal to you.

“A little you,” he muffled against your lips after kissing you for a final time.

“A little you,” you repeated with a giggle.

“With those pretty eyes of yours.” You whisper up to him, grazing your free hand against his cheek once he set you down.

“Christ save me if it has your attitude,” He mutters against your forehead before placing another kiss on it, forcing a snort from your nose in amusement.

That night, he brought you flowers and your favorite chocolates, promising to take you out to eat at your favorite restaurant the next evening. Even after all this time, he still wasn’t a fan of public places, but this was such a celebration, he would do it all in the name of you.

5 weeks.

It wasn’t enough for an ultrasound worth seeing to check for something exciting beyond the size of a pearl or rice grain, but now there was something here. Someone there, and it would soon rely on the two of you to protect it, to love and cherish it.

This would mean you would have to be away from your military lifestyle, taking on this new role while Simon continued on with his. You had to admit you were jealous, especially as the wave of maternal thoughts continuously reminded you of this new position.

With this blessing came so many worries. Simon would have to continue his lifestyle, meaning he’d be gone for long periods of time. How could you cope exactly with this? What would happen, especially after the baby was born?

Maybe you were just thinking ahead.

Only time would really tell if you were true to your word of physically and mentally preparing for it.

Your only regret for the moment was not preparing an adorable pregnancy reveal surprise for him, though time will tell if you have a chance to make up for it.

- - -

You were craving s’mores, but not just any s’mores.

You were dying for that crispy, burnt marshmallow taste, but despised the idea of smoke from a campfire, your nose suddenly souring at the thought, and the rainy weather outside had been unforgiving these past few weeks.

You’ve taken to baking a lot lately these past few evenings, scattered along the last few weeks, keeping your area lit up with the warm stovetop light, melding perfectly with the cozy ambience of your kitchen.

Your kitchen had been your experiment room, your science lab, smelling of rich chocolate and burnt marshmallows as you set your clear glass pan onto a heat protected surface, closing your oven with a gloved hand.

A Graham cracker crust, a rich, fudgy brownie filling, and marshmallow fluff that toasted delightfully on top, thanks to the broiler in your oven.

They were just a more aesthetically pleasing version of slutty brownies, delicious looking ones at least.

21 weeks in, the changes were growing ever so obvious. Your abdomen grew a bit plush, but still thankfully secured under the sanctuary of Simon’s gray t-shirt.

Since you woke up this morning, all you craved was brownies. But fuck it, it was a better craving than something sick, like ice cream and soy sauce, or some other horridly confusing craving you discovered other pregnant women had.

Don’t even bother trying it.

“You gonna finish it this time?” Simon piqued as he stood at the other end of your kitchen counter, watching you cut into this delectable creation, hearing the crunch of the graham crackers as fudgy chocolate and gooey marshmallow clung to your knife from the cut.

It was in the oven for about fifty minutes, but the possibility of raw eggs was nothing compared to the amount of sugar in this invention. At the very least, he made sure you had eaten proper, healthier food throughout the day until now, so satisfying this craving wouldn’t truly hurt every now and then.

“Of course, I will,” you looked up at him after plating four sizable slices on the plate, bits of melted marshmallow coating your fingers of your opposite hands. “You think this is all just for me? You’ve wanted s’mores just as much as I have.”

You tilted your head to the stove, gesturing towards the kettle that whistled for attention during your discussion. “I want some of that earl grey tea too, please.”

You say that because he usually doesn’t drink sweetened tea with his desserts, that was his given fancy. Plain tea cuts through the sweetness perfectly.

“Alright, as long as you only eat two of those. That much sugar will drive you up the damn walls.” Simon mentioned while gathering two mugs from the top cupboard, setting them on the counter.

“Bite me, Riley.” You muttered in amusement, clutching hold of the tray with a still gloved hand while making the final cuts to your dessert.

“I have. Can still see it from here, love.” His voice trailed into your ear from behind you as he passed by, his form lightly, yet innocently brushing along your backside to get the earl grey from another cabinet.

You smiled, a tint of color flushing your cheeks as you licked the remnants off the side of the knife before placing it in the sink.

It was silly, really. With sugar, came the surge of arousal. Hormones really loved to mess with your mind and turned you from his ever doting, needy little wife into his ever doting, needy little wife. It was a tough price to pay.

Tough price to pay indeed.

- - -

“Once this baby sees you, an’ once it touches your skin, they’ll see you as their entire perfect world.” His lowered tone rumbled deliciously from his throat, trailing along the skin of your neck in a similar fashion to his hands.

“You’ll be a wonderful little mother.” He mutters this promise to you, this elegant truth, whether your mind allows it to be believable or not.

Simon’s soothing words mumbled along the shell of your ear, his arms secured around you like a shield of comfort, more secure than any soft blanket after being tossed in the dryer.

You were fresh out of a warmed bath, warm enough to sleep in without being scalding, scented with your favorite bath soaps and oils, turning you into a glistening queen as he sat beside the tub to keep you company, talking about anything and everything to your heart’s content until the water was bordering the edges of lukewarm and cold.

You seemed more concerned over how you appeared as time passed, as if Simon would ever view you any less than desirable. He didn't understand this sudden change in attitude at first, viewing you as nothing more than a diamond after spending decades trapped in coal. Pure, utter perfection bred from years of mind melding pressure from the eyes of the world.

Scars or not, your changing body was gorgeous to him, going through a beautiful process to nurture your growing child.

Simon’s war weathered hands worked wonders along your skin, massaging along your shoulders down to your legs, working the muscles that would eventually grow swelled with time. He never minded this, knowing you’d deserve everything you deserve and more for this laborious task of carrying his child.

Old Friends of yours, and the internet of course, recommended that moisturizing was key during pregnancy, to combat those stretch marks.

The sweet almond oil was merely a plus, as well as the vanilla scented cocoa and shea body butter you used to seal in the moisture. You glistened like an absolute goddess, perfuming his dreams as he cradled you close at night.

It was even working on him, his hands always felt a little bit softer after such a routine each evening.

“An’ before you know it, our little kid will be drinkin’ their tea through their sippy cups.”

A small smile tickled the corners of your lips, a short, amused snort leaving your nose from the comment.

There it was, that smile that Simon adored so much.

A part of him knew that this wouldn’t be the last time these raging hormones would drag you down, but what good was a husband if not an anchor to your worries and concerns?

- - -

“Just one sip?”

“No.”

“But Si-“

“No.” Came his firm reply yet again, all while reading through today’s mail.

Wine. You wanted wine. You craved it desperately, but you couldn’t have it.

Whatever idiotic, controversial topic you had read off your phone or heard from one of your girlfriends was something he wished he could rip from your head and shove it back to where it belonged.

He knew you liked wine, particularly sweet ones, and was aware you had very well missed it, but regardless, he was dreadfully against it.

He cut back on cigarettes for his baby, so like hell any single drop of alcohol was going to touch your tongue, even if it was just for a taste.

Simon got you sparkling grape cider after you spent two days complaining, but it wasn’t the same. Who cares? It was sweet and didn’t have alcohol.

“But the doctor said-“

“The bloody doctor’s not here, is he?!” Simon’s voice raised instantly, leaving you stunted as he glared at you from the corner of his eye. Like hell you were going to use that no-good doctor’s words as an excuse.

You groaned, rolling your head back before stomping out of the kitchen.

“Fuck you, Riley!” You shouted at him from down the corridor before shutting yourself in the bedroom.

“Love you as well,” he mutters, gathering the ripped open envelopes in his hands.

The silly stories of men being concerned, if not frightened for their wives’ outbursts sounded absolutely absurd. If anything, he tried his very best to hold back any sign of amusement, any twitch of a smile or accidental huff of laughter at how adorable you looked being irritated over something you couldn't have.

It’s not the worst he’s seen you before, but thinking that now, he wasn't sure if he was speaking too soon.

You’ll get over it.

- - -

“You’ll be a wonderful father, Simon.” You reassured him, remaining by his side as a subtle roar of thunder echoed in the horizon from miles away.

30 weeks, 30 weeks and the broad, physical changes started to set in.

The bump stretched through most of his shirts, but you were more than content to be comfortable in his black hoodie. You found him after dinner outside after he had done the dishes, leaning on his crossed arms against the porch fence, a lit cigarette in his hand as he took in the storm’s afterglow ambience.

You rubbed his forearm soothingly, settling your hand against his open palm as his fingers relaxed from the touch of yours.

You knew he still struggled with the new mentality of this reality.

Every day, you saw it flash across his eyes once or twice a day, leading him to disappear every so often for minutes at a time to gather his bearings. Ten minutes grew into thirty, evolving into him remaining on your front porch for an hour, watching the rain fall merely inches in front of his face.

“I never saw myself bein’ a father,” he admits slowly after such a long silence, his lowered tone almost muffled by the storm.

You nod to his confession, despite the burn in your heart to hear it.

He says this due to his mother’s words, an echo of a memory voicing through his thoughts from so long ago.

“He’s your father and there’s always gonna be a piece of him in you.”

The thought alone was more terrifying than his fear of you going into labor if he wasn’t around.

If the bastard was alive, he’d make sure he’d stay dead in a ditch far from society, making it impossible for him to ever learn of his child’s name, preventing him from even mentioning it in crude vain.

“But seein’ you like this,” He continues on, giving your fingers a gentle squeeze, “Seeing you carry my child, our child I mean, made me realize exactly why.”

You nodded slowly again, feeling a bit more considerate to his truth. He didn’t need to voice it, for it was a truth you’d known for quite a long time. You didn’t need to know a cruel, heatless man to understand that your husband was nothing of the sort, not by a long shot.

“You’re not your father, Simon.” You squeeze his hand as you say these words, feeling his gaze trail to yours.

“You know not what to do, how not to act, and I know it's not going to be easy, but I’m here too,” You gently encourage him, trying your best to keep hopeful for him to see what you saw.

“We’ve got each other, right? And like you said, once they see you, they’re gonna view you as the perfect father.”

Simon wondered how he got so lucky to have a woman like you in his life, sporting a gentle love he had only known from his mother.

Stepping away from the railing, Simon lowered his hand along the smooth fabric shielding your belly. Smoothing his palm against it, his eyes followed your fingers as they trailed along his inked tattoos, mindlessly swirling over the patterns as you stepped closer to him.

“We should get ready for bed. Now come inside, I’m not supposed to be breathing this stuff in.” You softly say to him, meeting his nod as he chucked out the cigarette towards the puddles of mud out in the yard, before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You chose to come out here.”

“Because my husband needed his wife and child to remind him how much we love him.”

- - -

“What is that?” You ask from the entryway to the kitchen the next morning, lured in by a new scent melding with the usual aroma of ground coffee and toast.

“Food.” He curtly replied, standing in front of the stove.

The fragrant, slightly spicy smell was delightful to you, but you weren’t sure about what it was. You had an idea, but you dreaded what it could’ve been. Maybe that’s why your husband stood the way he did at the stove, purposely blocking your view from the pan.

“Simon, what is it?” You asked again, your curiosity getting the better of you.

His head craned a little, sparing you a glance over his shoulder, seeing you slightly hidden behind the wall. “You won’t like it.”

“Just tell me what it is.”

“Black pudding.”

“Oh.” The contorted face you made immediately confirmed your views on it.

“Want to try?” Simon offered as he glanced back towards the pan.

“No.” He expected that response. You were content with everything he enjoyed in a full English breakfast except that, everything but that.

“Y’sure?” He piqued while plating both your foods, setting the pan back on the stove before setting one of the plates down on the table. He motioned for you to sit with a tilt of his head, watching you hesitantly approach.

He plated the so-called monstrosity on both your plates, knowing very well you couldn’t deny the hunger, despite being well aware of your thoughts for it. Won’t like it until you try, at least.

“Why does it look like that?” Your nose almost scrunched at it as you sat down.

“Cause it’s made with blood, love.” Simon states while filling up two mugs with hot beverages. “Good for ya.”

The look you gave him made it almost impossible to hide a smile any longer.

“Won’t disappear the longer you keep starin’ at it,” Simon chimed after watching you prod at your eggs once he sat down.

“Why’d you do this to me?’ You looked at him with a bit of a pout, frowning at his held back smirk as you proceeded to put your portion onto his plate. Christ, you’re like a little child with steamed veggies.

“Cause it smells good, yeah?” Damn him for knowing that.

You shrug. “I guess.”

“Won’t cause harm in tryin’ it,” Peering back down at his plate, he worked at his own helping, hopefully taking this opportunity to change your mind on what he viewed as essential to an english breakfast.

“Here.” He offered a tiny amount on the tip of a fork to you. You hesitated, your head retching back like a kid avoiding a foul-tasting medicine.

It looked so horrid to you, even if it did look like charred, sliced sausage, but it smelled incredible.

“C’mon, or I’ll keep ya at the table.”

He sounded so strange when he teased, his jokes as terrible as this blood pudding appeared. Nevertheless, you opened your mouth, accepting the food.

“It’s spicy.” You mutter as you chew slowly. By now, Simon couldn't hold back his amusement any longer, watching you swallow before glancing back at your plate, particularly towards the now vacant spot beside the tomatoes.

“Still hungry?” He pried.

You nodded. There were many other tasty options for you right in front of you, but as you picked up your fork, you refrained from selecting anything else.

“What do you want?” He questioned after noting your continued silence.

“That.” You muttered almost shamefully.

“What?”

“That.” You craned your head to motion at the black pudding still on his plate.

A fraction of a smirk formed on his face as he placed it back onto your plate, a low chuckle leaving him. “Good, right?”

“I guess.” You shrugged before putting a more sizable piece in your mouth, almost looking ashamed to eat it.

You weren’t ashamed for eating a peanut butter sandwich with pickle slices in it. How is this worse?

It was truly amusing, if you weren’t pregnant, you wouldn’t even be in the kitchen at this very moment.

“This a new craving now?” Simon couldn't help asking midway through you popping another piece in your mouth, hearing you muffle in agreement while covering your mouth.

“Our little one’s a true Brit now, yeah?”

“Don’t say that ever again.” You chuckled into your hand, cutting another sizable piece with your fork. Simon couldn’t be more amused and ever so happy that you were his wife and mother to his child.

- - -

The anxiety of the small baby shower that was soon to happen later on in the day prevented you from getting a good night’s rest, so you settled to do your favorite little hobby: baking, at six in the morning.

Specifically, making specialty cupcakes for the party.

Usually, you would’ve used boxed mix for that quick fix, but in this case, you did what you called “doctoring up” the cake mix.

An extra egg, swap the amount of water for milk, and use the good vanilla paste from Mexico.

He walked in on you shutting the oven after checking on the baking goods, the warm vanilla swirling deliciously in the air alongside fresh brewed coffee, lightly fogging up the kitchen window in front of the sink.

Six months.

Six months went by so terribly fast. With every passing day, you beamed with motherhood soon to come, spending your days as comfortable and as lazily as possible.

Those cupcakes would soon eye him every time he opened the fridge later today, making the mystery of the truth grow all the more curious in his head.

Only you knew the true gender, a secret you guarded very well the moment you two were alone after the doctor’s visit.

“You’re banned from the kitchen once I start frosting, you know.” You spoke up, showing him a little smile as you pulled out multiple sticks of butter from the fridge, setting them on the warm stove so they’d come to room temperature faster.

“More concerned for you walkin’ around half asleep.” He approached you, watching you huff and shake your head. “I’m fine-”

“Now now, don’t wanna hear any of it.” Simon gently takes you in his arms from behind, feeling you sigh against his chest before relaxing in his embrace.

Slowly, he trailed his hands down over your belly, cradling the underside of your swollen, unborn child.

His favorite activity, his most cherished act to do during his pastime, regardless of where the two of you were, was to hold them. To rest his hands along where he imagined little hands would press, or little feet that would kick back against.

He’d lightly rest his head against the side of your tummy in silence, feeling your fingers comb through his hair as you watched with content, seeing his facial muscles relax, his brow lowering in various thoughts of how their child would look like. These silly, innocent little thoughts always lulled him to sleep, temporarily banishing any and every harsh, dark thought that threatened to overtake him.

“You sure you wanna do this?” You softly ask, hinting towards the baby shower later this evening.

The baby shower was a shared idea between you and Kate’s wife, who began calling a few times a week to check up on you, taking a sort of maternal role on your behalf, providing a fair amount of support without being overbearing.

He was never one for parties. Public parties, anything that involved more than five people at least. But he knew all who were arriving and worked alongside most of them through thick and thin, they may as well be a sort of second family.

Simon had stepped plenty out of his comfort zone alongside you these past few months, doing grocery runs with you, eating out when neither of you felt like cooking, attending local events so you didn't feel cooped up in the house too often, despite Simon’s silent persistence that he would’ve preferred you to remain at home, except for the occasional doctor’s visit.

This baby shower will be here at home, a nice little event where everyone can have fun and bring the baby gifts. After learning what it meant, he couldn’t rob you of that experience.

“I’ll be alright,” He settles your worries, taking a gentle hold of your shoulders to guide you towards the door. “You need rest, love. Get a few hours to yourself, I’ll wake you for your breakfast.”

“Wait,” You tried to stop your steps, despite Simon insisting you continue walking forward.

“Make sure the cupcakes are taken out after fifteen minutes-”

“Will do.”

“And just set them on the-”

“Heat proof pans,” Simon confirmed, “I know. Go get your rest, love.”

- - -

You’ve never seen Simon so relaxed after a delicious dinner, sitting with most of the men in the living room, sharing a couple of beers, the good beers that Soap had brought for the party, conversing happily over various topics and stories, catching up after some lost time.

Through every shared chuckle, every change in subject between the men, Simon couldn't help but shift his attention over towards his wife, standing with Kate and her beloved, chattering your head off while mindlessly resting your hand over the baby bump.

You looked so vibrant, glowing in extravagant excellence. You wore a loose light pink dress that went past your knees, with comfortable, soft puffy sleeves. Tons of tiny blue flowers decorating the fabric of the skirt, accommodating your pregnant tummy beautifully.

You sipped a sparkling elderflower mocktail, thanks to an elderflower nonalcoholic beverage Simon had gotten you that you actually enjoyed.

Alejandro and Rodolfo arrived around four in the evening, apologizing profusely for being two hours late, but the fact that they even arrived had significantly warmed your heart.

“There’s no way we’d miss this special day, Princesa,” Alejandro stated after sharing a warm, heartfelt hug.

In Rodolfo’s hands he carried a large gift, a baby gift set his sisters had made for you, decorated in various yellows and soft, pastel greens, with kisses of pink and blue, a giant mystery to what the baby’s gender might’ve been. It gladly joined the rest of the presents that piled up in the corner of the room, remaining untouched until a particularly exciting event took place.

Kate’s wife immediately helped take the gift to add towards the pile. She had been an absolute dream with you, being as mindful as Simon, if not more than him, when it came to your needs. Arriving a half hour before the party began, helping with dinner, making sure you didn't stand for so long to rest your sore feet.

She was the apple of Kate’s eye, their relationship making you smile delightfully each chance you could.

“So, what’re you gonna do about the job?” Soap couldn't help but ask Simon, a question lingering in the air like a shadow.

Despite Simon never once minding the fact that he stayed home for you, there was the inevitable possibility that he’d have to go back to work, which meant he’d be far out of his family’s reach.

He hated it, the thought alone shooting a sour taste over his tongue. He couldn't avoid the topic forever, but it was a discussion he’d need to have with you. It wouldn't be a pretty one, but he had to have it at some point.

“Don’t quite know yet, Johnny.” He replied, glancing back over towards his wife before looking towards the Sergeant. “An’ I’d appreciate it if its not brought up again.”

“No no,” Soap held up a hand in calm defense, “I get it. Honest, wouldn't blame ya if you stayed. Doubt she’d let yer ass through the door.”

Simon huffed, slightly joining in on the man’s chuckle. That’s a level of unbridled new mother rage he’s hoping he’d never get to see.

“Are these it?” Gaz called your attention from the kitchen, holding the tray of cupcakes you kept in the freezer.

“Yep! It is.” You cheerfully replied, getting Kate to gather the men towards the dining room, either filling up the limited chairs or standing around. Simon was adamant on giving you a seat to rest in, but after some quick, hushed words, you convinced him to sit down, remaining by his side once the cupcakes were passed out with little napkins.

“So, what’s the game here?” Alejandro questioned, taking the cupcake once you offered it before passing it along to someone else.

“The game is we each take a bite and tally up the color we get. Odd color wins, gentleman. Place your bets now.” Kate announces, hearing Gaz huff while peering towards the Scotsman, muttering a few hushed words.

“Ah ah ah! Not literally, you idiot!” You quickly speak out, going against Soap, who purposely leaned back against his seat to pull out his wallet.

He snickered, purposefully acting the way he did to simply get a rise out of you, finding every chance he could incredibly amusing.

“No bets at my baby shower, John.” You ordered, watching him raise his hands in playful submission.

The man himself wore a dark blue shirt. As blue as the Scottish flag, he had stated after giving you a hug when he arrived. Despite the idea of a boy, he did mention a girl would be just as, if not, even more delightful a thought.

He could see any child the both of you had absolutely loved to death regardless, not only by its parents, but by everyone else who came to show their support.

The man himself offered to begin this little game, the suspense forcing him to chuckle as he bit into the cupcake, causing cold buttercream to smear the tip of his nose.

His eyes significantly widened the second he looked down, quickly turning around for the others to view the small pocket of pink hidden underneath the dome of piped frosting.

A small chorus of laughter and cheers erupted from the table, watching the man gather himself as he set the cupcake down, licking the frosting from his lips.

Gaz was next, helping himself to the cupcake in front of him. He took a more interesting approach, proceeding to bite into the frosting rather than the cake, revealing the purposefully pastel blue dyed frosting, casting a smile upon the man’s face as the color matched the light blue button up he wore.

“Alright! We got a boy!” He announced, chuckling along with a few others before he set it down.

“Unless you’re jestin’ us and hinting that yer havin’ twins.” Soap added in while licking his thumb of frosting after enjoying another bite.

The strain and hesitant laughter that came from you was forced, feeling your hand give Simon’s a decently firm squeeze, quietly reveling in the secret blessing that it wasn’t. It was interesting enough learning from just one, you wouldn't know what you would’ve felt with the possibility of twins.

Up next was Rodolfo, who had worn a white long sleeve, but that didn’t stop him from scoring a dark blue bracelet he had lifted up in defense to failing the dress code, something you didn’t hold against him. He held up his cupcake, presenting it like a trophy to reveal the pocket of blue underneath, cheering with the others.

“Oye, you should sell these. Open up a little bakery,” He proposed before taking another bite, watching you smile and giggle. It was good to see your love for baked goods get appreciated by others. It definitely saved money from buying them elsewhere.

Your altered taste buds despised the store-bought stuff anyway.

Alejandro wore a light pink button up with rolled up sleeves, biting into his cupcake once his turn came around. His eyes widened at the blue frosting, faking a pitiful look of sadness before chuckling it off in amusement.

“Really pushing it on a boy so far!” He chuckled, shortly agreeing with Rodolfo’s comment on how tasty the cupcake was. All it was missing was a hot cup of coffee and he was set.

Kate’s wife wore a pastel pink sweater vest over a white shirt, biting into a pink cupcake to her absolute delight, almost tearing up herself over the welcomed match. Kate herself had gotten a blue cupcake, matching coincidentally well with her blue scarf resting around her neck.

“In our defense,” Kate’s wife states while clutching her beloved’s hand, “We’ll love who they are regardless!”

“They’ll be getting spoiled either way,” Kate added in, chuckling along with the flat-out truth.

Price wore a cerulean shirt, but gladly accepted your request to pin a pink little bow on the far right of his shirt collar.

By now, as the buttercream came to room temperature, a bit of pink tinted frosting clung to his mustache after his bite, but chuckling to the realization of this little mishap didn't bother him in the slightest.

“Well, look at that!” He chuckled as you quickly handed him a few extra napkins. “I’m on the same boat, they’re gettin’ absolutely spoiled by all their aunts and uncles.”

“Sure thing, Gramps.” Gaz pitched, purposely avoiding the captain’s gaze, hiding his smile in his own hand.

“That’s a name they’ll be calling you in about a year or two,” You pitched in, smiling at the smirk that inevitably spread across the captain’s face after the comment.

“Your turn, dear.” Price gestured to you, leaving you to nod along with excitement, despite already knowing the truth.

As basic as it was, you’ve never held so much disdain for this simple vanilla cupcake, this painfully bland dessert, especially when it came to the multiple test cupcakes you’ve made prior.

The toughest challenge was making the buttercream thick and pearly white, hiding the color underneath perfectly.

You’d be more than happy to make any other cupcake rather than this tragically boring mess, leading you to simply tear open the cake in your hands without tasting it, revealing to the crowd the flush of pink underneath vanilla sponge and frosting.

The tally was set.

An even number of four on four so far, all that was left was the final cupcake to break the tie, the final cupcake that sat in front of Simon.

Simon wore dark gray, insisting that it didn’t matter to him what gender the baby was, he’d love them regardless, just as everyone else. He didn’t want to think ahead and assume too fast, too nervous at the high expectations, keeping all those thoughts bottled up until he learned the truth.

He didn't realize just until now how much pressure was placed on his shoulders, being the last man at the table, a plethora of pink and blue cupcakes flooding his eyes, down to the simple, plain cupcake in front of him.

Sweet frosting coated his taste buds once he took a bite, the room dreadfully quiet after this action.

The suspense grew thicker and thicker, all eyes on him as his wife’s hand settled on his right shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze, soothing his heartbeat drumming in his ears.

Licking his lip, he glanced down at the cake in hand, unable to wait any longer.

Right there, in the center of the swirl of thick, smooth buttercream, topped with round pink and blue sprinkles was a soft, flush pastel pink pocket of icing.

Never in his life had he been so delighted to see such a color.

You watched Simon’s eyes light up, almost wider than saucers at the discovery. You stared at him with your hands over your mouth, a bright smile hidden underneath your fingers, your eyes flushed pink with hot tears.

“It’s a girl!” You quickly state towards the others before he could turn it around, watching multiple eyes light up, followed by large amounts of cheers and applause, those who sat rising from their seats instantly.

Simon had risen so fast from his seat, almost causing the furniture to tumble over as he secured you tightly in his arms, feeling your tears of joy dampen his shirt sleeve. His head buried deep into your neck, his light scruff prickling your skin as he purposefully hid his face from everyone who cheered in congratulations.

With your growing belly, Simon found holding you close to be a more endearing action as the days went by. Before the both of you knew it, your little girl would be squeezing between the two of you, urging to join in on such a hug, simply for the surge of attention from her parents.

Your fingers clung to his shirt, your ragged breathing muffled against his shoulder. Beneath the excitement, he heard you mutter to him how much you loved him dearly, repeating these words over and over. In response, he urged you to shift your head just enough so he could take you in a long, heartfelt kiss, before returning to you the same hushed words against your lips.

How you loved each other so. Simon never wanted to be away from you, the thought growing now more than ever.

He remained facing away from the crowd after you were let go, your attention immediately taken aside by Kate’s wife, who trapped you in a tight hug.

“Ya alright?” Soap approached Simon, seeing his refrained stance from the crowd, refusing everyone else to see him this way, teary eyed and emotional, all while keeping quiet.

Simon nodded, sparing yet another glance over towards his wife, smiling as wide as possible, bright tears beading the edges of your eyes, staining your beautifully flushed cheeks as Price took you in a hug, soothing your happy sobs with a comforting rub of your back.

This was better than you had ever hoped for, A wonderful make up for being unable to surprise him the first time.

A girl, a beautiful baby girl.

His future addition to the chamber of his heart, the apple blossom of his eye, his hopeful little dove soaring across an endless sky.

A daughter with the woman he loved most in this world.

For a moment, and just for a moment, he refused to let any dark thought in his mind ruin this happiness that flooded his bones and warmed his haunted spirit, lighting up the darkness like a small pink birthday candle.

He could hardly wait now.

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #pregnancy #it’s cute stuff yk

[tciddaemina]

so i had a dream last night about a svsss bingqiu dating sim story set post-epilogue where Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe hadnt gotten together. idk how that would even be set up but like maybe they stopped Maigu ridge but didnt bone but its still revealed Binghe is into Shen Qingqiu, and now its in the peace afterwards where things have more or less gone back together and Shen Qingqiu has finished his sexuality crisis and decided he absolutely needs Binghe to rail him

and so its this situation of Shen Qingqiu in a dating sim, but his only romance route is Binghe and hes just trying to select the correct dialogue route to getting rawed over the nearest desk except he has no romantic experience except reading godawful stuff like PIDW and so he keeps fucking it up by saying the most unhinged shit, and it keeps making Binghe blush and run away or misunderstand him because hes so used to Shen Qingqiu being dense and misunderstanding all flirting that now that Shen Qingqiu is explicitly and deliberately trying to flirt with him he keeps explaining it away

and so Shen Qingqiu is like tearing out his hair and choosing increasingly more unhinged dialogue options and dressing in increasingly raunchy clothes to try and get Binghe to do something and its just like. 10000% pure crack

And its like

-

Shen Qingqiu sitting across from Binghe, the two them drinking wine together after dinner. The hour is late, the day stretching long and the two of them enjoying their rest after a day of endless meetings. The breeze is sweet with the scent of golden night jasmine, the candle light is dim and intimate.

Shen Qingqiu bites his tongue, an impatient itch running up his spine. It's a fine evening, but he can't enjoy it - all day it's felt like his nerves have been ground down to a find powder. All week, his nerves have been ground down. He just about tastes his impatience now, so thick its grown, its given a physical taste in his mouth.

He glances at the dialogue boxes hovering before him resentfully.

1. BOLD. "This master is tired of waiting. He has wanted Binghe too long." [Lean over and kiss him.]

2. EXTRA BOLD. [Let your actions speak for you! Start removing clothing and reach for him! Get it started!]

3. SUGGESTIVE. "Binghe has been a good boy. Why not allow this master to show his favor?" [Glance demurely at Binghe's crotch.]

4. SLY. "How have Binghe's energy levels been? Is he he still feeling unbalanced from Xin Mo? Perhaps this master can help..." [Offer dual cultivation.]

5. COP OUT. The weather is fine today, is it not?

And Binghe sits up, eyes softening, touched by Shen Qingqiu's concern. A soft ping rings out, an alert appearing in the corner of Shen Qingqiu's vision [+15 affection points]. Still, he appears a bit abashed, ducking his head.

"Ah, shizun need not worry. Mu-shishu has been taking care of this disciple - this disciple has been meditating each morning in the spiritual caves," Luo Binghe says, hurrying to reassure Shen Qingqiu and completely missing the point. "Shizun shouldn't concern himself - he has his own energies to worry about. Has Without A Cure been acting up again?"

Fuck Without A Cure!! Shen Qingqiu almost screams. This isn't about that! Tens of millions of words of Binghe fighting and fucking his way through the plot of PIDW, suave as anything, and yet here he can't see a flag being waved in front of his face! What next? Will Shen Qingqiu get out a flag and wave it, shouting Please fuck me??!!!

Binghe! Please be more conscientious of your poor master and think with your dick a little more!! Where is that insatiable lady-killer when you need him??? Shen Qingqiu is so frustrated he feels like he might spit blood! Please do something about it Binghe!!

Shen Qingqiu just smiles and inclines his head. "It has been manageable," he says, and tries a little harder, attempting to redirect the conversation. "Though... with our energies in such a state, perhaps we might find a way to help one another..." He looks at Binghe shyly over the top of his fan, lashes lowered. He bites his lip, a small thrill of shy anticipation running through him.

Binghe brightens, eyes clearing. He straightens. "Of course!" he says eagerly. "This disciple would be honored in taking over for Luo Qingge in balancing shizun's meridians each week! This disciple will ask Mu-shishu for a lesson on the proper way to circulate energies through the meridians of the wrist!"

So dense!! Shen Qingqiu's jaw twitches, and he almost throws his fan down onto the table. He smooths out his expression immediately, mask serene and implacable. "Ah," he says delicately, because fuck it, maybe he needs to be more explicit. "This master was perhaps thinking another way..."

And Binghe nods, realization washing over his face. "Of course," he says. "If human solutions are not working, but perhaps a demonic method-"

Yes! Like the divine pillar! Please fuck this master! Binghe is finally catching on!!!

"- the demon realm probably has entirely different healing practices and methods! Why have we never thought to look before? Maybe they will have something. Shizun, I will go immediately-"

"That wasn't quite what I-"

"Shizun is so wise! Wait for me shizun! I'll be back before you know it!"

-

Whoops there's a part 2.

#my writing #svsss #bingqiu #shen qingqiu #luo binghe #just fucking around really #writing idea #scum villan unhinged dating sim au

[jahnavisurenda-21]

Hazbin Hotel ||Alastor X Reader||Rest A Little My Dear

It's tiring and feeling burnt out but the stack of thoughts, longing and paperwork won't let you sleep.

It had been approximately two years since that horrible night, but you're not exactly sure how time works in hell, or how many days make a year, or how many days make a month.

You asked some of your other friends as well Charlie, Vaggie, and Angel they just shrugged, although Vaggie did ask you the reason. Then looking at you she figured it,

"Oh, I see... you're still hoping huh?" Vaggie didn't want to tell it, but she thought you were hoping for something meaningless.

"Come now my dear, it's not healthy for you to be locked up in your bedroom the whole day." Alastor reminded, dragging you outside.

To cure you of your homesickness he would make the food you used to enjoy, love, and fight with your sibling for.

Alastor could have handled that, but he knew the stages of acceptance involved Denial, Turmoil, more denial, romanticizing the impossible, and then initial acceptance.

It was a while since you landed here, and the moment he had seen you he knew you could be a more hopeless case than Charlie and a complete misfits of the misfits.

"Here at least come to one of the most pleasant cities of this miserable hell!" Alastor said grinning,

Two weeks passed, And Alastor had gone out for 'Urgent matters' he thought you were to lighthearted to understand or even know about it.

That night he was pleasantly surprised to see you wrapped up with a blanket on your bed, you were taking his advice and calming down a little.

He sat by the bedside, "I know my dear, it's painful. As painful as missing my mother. You know I'd give anything to see her once again." Alastor then looked at you, "Now my dear, when I go, I hope you will help me run this hotel and not stay cooped up here. It's definitely not healthy, well I guess this is hell. Now I better get going. My dear."

"Ah there you are Charlie... why not help me out a little you see my darling Y/n will probably be all delusional again, dreaming, drifting, and mindlessly browsing all sorts of information in those content books of hers, and that picture box thing, so make sure she doesn't get a little to delusional okay?"

But Charlie knew your stubbornness passes the gates of hell and to the doors of heaven, you avoided everyone, anything to study, you studied for hours, without Alastor things got really hellish.

One day in your room staring out to the red skies, Niffty called out to you,

"So why are you such a boring person huh? Why are you not a bad girl?"

"That's because she doesn't belong here Nifftly." Charlie's soft voice called out, she then took your hand, "I know it's hard for you, to have left everyone behind, I know your longing to pick up where you left, you want to forget you are trapped in hell. I can't promise your departure back to Earth, I know your scared, but we'll be right by your side."

You laughed with tears, "You sang and told me this, you and Alastor I'll never know the secrets behind your dazzling smiles, and those songs you both sing so naturally. Thanks."

Alastor was up against the wall eavesdropping is a rude word, he just wanted to make sure you were alright. He was too respectful to eavesdrop.

An hour later, again you think because you don't know how time worked in hell.

"Ah my dear! I see your less delusional than before!" Alastor came smiling, he was really relieved you were smiling.

He had never made a deal with you, because he hoped that one day he could see you truly happy when you return to Earth happily, and when you die, he knows he would most likely never see you again and now he will have two people to give up everything for to just see them once again.

After everyone left, you took Alastor's hand, "I see your in a much better mood!" Alastor commented, "It's thanks to you."

"Oh no my dear, Just smile and one more thing just rest a little more my dear."

And smile you did, the most purest one in his eyes.

#lovestories #alastor fanfiction #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor x you #beauty #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel fandom #romance #romantic #paranormal romance #romance novel #lovestory #coming of age #fluff #alastor x y/n #alastor fluff #alastor fanart #alastor fictive

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

can i just say that i am OBSESSED with your Alfie series. literally cannot get enough of it. Also!! Was wondering if you could write a fluff piece were reader gets injured and alfie comes to her rescuee? Your writing is so good <3

Hi my love! This ask was so so sweet! I am so glad you like the series, it was so much fun to share it with you guys, I know I tell y'all all the time but it's true! My heart is just so full I can't help it! And of course I can write some fluff! You know I love it hehe. I'm sorry this took a while but I hope you like it! This was actually inspired by my Thanksgiving fiasco this past year lmao. I was in charge of the turkey, mac and cheese, dessert, and potatoes. My little brother was my sous chef and I completely cut my thumb open and my brother almost passed out lmao. Anyway, sending all my love to you! - Mo

Ouch

Alfie Solomons x F!Reader, fluff, Warnings: injury, mentions of blood

There is something so soothing about the kitchen. When the world is so chaotic and cold and uncertain, the kitchen is a haven. Here it’s safe and warm and systematic. The chops and bubbling of the stove are so rhythmic, any harshness of the day just falling off your shoulders in waves. Because here you could understand and set the temperature. Here you could control the outcome and be free. Even if you were trying something new, you could be confident in the knowledge that it would always have a good outcome. It was your favorite part of the day, just cooking with Alfie. You on one side with Alfie on the opposite, working separately to jointly create beautiful.

The only problem that came with cooking, was that it was a little too peaceful. You became too relaxed. And as Alfie was apt to remind you, it wasn’t good to be too relaxed around knives and hot stoves. But it was too easy. The steady hum of the fire and boiling. The pattern you’ve gone through many a time. Your body would take over like a dance from your childhood. Your hands knew what they were doing. Your mind could take a break. And she would wander. Things to be completed in the office tomorrow. That new quilt you were making for your mother. Alfie needing a haircut.

Stir.

I need to make time for that book this weekend

Pour.

Alfie looked so handsome today if it weren’t for that awful stain on his shirt

Stir

Mama and Papa asked us to come for Shabbat this week. I need to tell Alfie.

Chop

We should go to the park this week

Chop

I wonder if we can visit Rabbi Reuben as well

Chop

Alfie’s birthday is also coming up

Chop

I’m so excited for his birthday surprise

Slice

“AH!!! Oh God ah!!”

A long and deep line blossoms on your palm. Far too entrenched in your mind, you were completely missing how the knife was getting closer and closer to your hand. You quickly grab a nearby dish towel, tightly wrapping your hand to catch the trickle dripping to the wood on the floor. Alfie is quick to you though, loudly dropping the cutlery and bowl he was holding. "Shit! Sweet heart you alright? What d'ya do to yourself?"

"Nothing nothing Alfie darling! Just a little scrape I'm sorry!"

Alfie peered at the slowly soaking dishtowel and raised his thick blonde brows at you. Mustache quirking, indicating that once again, you are a terrible liar. Gently but without holding room for argument he unraveled your makeshift bandage as you winced. His mouth furrowed and grumbled, "Ah shit treacle. This is why I always tell you right? You can't be all day dreaming when you're working in here! You insist on not letting me help ya, and then there you go fucking filleting yourself!"

Cool tears start trickling down. It burned with the introduction of the air and the embarrasment of getting a nasty cut. Alfie sighed, wiping your tears with one hand has he cradled your injury in the other. If there was one thing he hated most in the world, it was seeing you cry. "Aw my dove, no tears yeah? Not too bad ain't it? Why I don't even think it'll need a stitch I wager. Just a little alcohol on it and a bandage and you'll be right as rain. C'mon my angel, let's get you better aye? Dinner can wait a few minutes."

Despite having a terrible temper and being completely and utterly impatient... Alfie Solomons was an incredibly gentle and tender nurse. Stern. Always stern. And teasing. And scolding. But gentle above all else. You winced and shed a small tear when Alfie poured the clear and horrendous smelling alcohol on your wound. He tutted and kissed your temple all the while telling you, "Maybe this'll teach you eh? Nothing like a war would to make you more smart about your surroundings."

You thanked your lucky stars you didn't need a stitch at all. Despite the blood it was really a shallow cut. Alfie wrapped your hand skillfully. Pressing a kiss right over the bandage as the final salve. As you whispered a chaste thank you, Alfie pulled you into his chest saying, "Now listen my dove. I don't like to baby you. You are a grown woman and I'm not one to tell woman how to conduct herself or her affairs. But I get worried about you. Always drifting off somewhere in that pretty head. Not watching yourself. Not wanting help. You have got to let me help you my darling. Yeah?"

You nod, kissing him to assure him that you are ok. He chuckles kissing you back. Pushing you to the dining room chair he teases you further, "Now my dear patient, it is imperative that you sit there and keep that hand elevated. Lots of rest of relaxation yeah?"

"Alfie! I have to finish dinner!"

"No I'm sorry treacle but it is the doctor's orders! Can't have you losing a finger next can we?"

You laugh and argue with him, eventually get him to compromise to allowing you to fill a pitcher with water and set the kettle on. No matter what the others of Camden said, they could never say that he wasn't a good man.

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x y/n #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #tom hardy

[elysiumarchieve]

Got any Scara sleeping / cuddling headcanons? ♡

sleeping scara is a blessing honestly

scaramouche sleeping/cuddling headcanons

warnings: scaramouche's past, angsty fluff?? it's mostly fluff but it's scaramouche what do you expect at this point

✧ scaramouche does not have a decent sleeping schedule

✧ in fact, being a puppet formerly created to hold onto a gnosis, i don't think he actually requires sleep in the same way that normal humans do - it was something that already bothered him during his time as the nameless eccentric wanderer

✧ unlike all other humans, he did not feel sleepy or tired in the same way they did. emotionally drained, yes, and there was also this dull aching in his chest, but no signs of weariness

✧ however, closing his eyes nowadays brings back memories he would rather like to forget and bury in a dark place within his mind, memories that remind him of how cruel betrayal was and how much he despised everyone

✧ and considering that he was seemingly tossed aside by his own creator for crying in his sleep, he even hates sleeping, so have fun trying to get him to rest his eyes

✧ scaramouche refuses to sleep nor to rest near you. he doesn't require it, so why should he lay down? is he supposed to bore himself to sleep for eight hours straight?

✧ if you sleep, that's completely fine with him. you're human and it's only natural for your weak body to rest - otherwise you might end up suffering even more from your lack of sleep (and he doesn't need to have a tired and groggy s/o tagging along)

✧ the rare moments in which you'll ever keep a glimpse of how he presumably could look like while he's asleep is when you wake up in the middle of the night

✧ with one arm around your shoulder and gently holding you close to him, you can't even feel a muscle move or a single sound from him - at first you might even believe he's actually dead because he doesn't even breathe (does he even need to breathe is a legitimate question at this point)

✧ in case you're lucky enough you might even have to chance to glance up at his face to see how his face actually looks relaxed

✧ his eyes are closed and his eyebrows aren't knitted together as when he's talking to anyone below his value

✧ it almost feels unreal to see him like this, calm and not snapping at people who bother him; especially since most of the time, you'd find him staring into nowhere particular and he'd call that 'resting'

✧ you have no idea what he dreams of and neither would he ever tell you. his dreams aren't worth mentioning and besides, why do you even believe the balladeer of all people dreams?

✧ you might catch his eyebrows move a little before his eyes just violently snap open and he's back from 'resting his eyes' for five minutes. he almost looks,, sad? there's a look in his eyes that whatever he just saw were things he actually wishes to leave behind

✧ if he catches you staring at him, he'll ignore you and simply tell you to stop gawking at him. if you managed to remain undetected however, you can practically feel how his hand around your arms tightens a little - not to hurt you but to actually feel that you're right next to him

✧ scaramouche doesn't really 'cuddle'. he doesn't see the necessity for it and thus deems it as unnecessary for him. but if his s/o wishes to cuddle him to go to sleep, he'll probably groan but do it anyways

✧ cuddling with him is kind of,,, complicated. he's stiff, doesn't really know where to put his hands and in the end, he'll only complain about it which makes this entire thing even worse

✧ he genuinely has no patience for any of this and he thinks it's below him to learn how to 'cuddle' with you. however, since it's you, he'll try (while complaining and groaning about the entire ordeal)

✧ while he's somewhat stiff, he tries copying what you do to him - but he's completely silent while doing it which makes it somewhat uncomfortable. in a way, you two look absolutely ridiculous

✧ if you happen to fall asleep on him, congrats, he ain't having it. what if he needs to move and you lay right on top of him? he can't have that

✧ however, what is rather sweet of him is that he wouldn't simply push you off of him - if you fell asleep on him he'd try waking you first. if that fails, he'll do his best to get you off almost too carefully before putting you in your bed and leaving you there while he goes about what scaramouche does in his free time

✧ scaramouche, however, never thought however how comforting it was to just lay there and feel the steady beating of your heart when he holds you, and just listen to it - no thinking, no tragic memories crossing his mind, just the besting of your heart and your gentle snores if you had fallen asleep

✧ in fact, it's enough to make even him drowsy enough and help him close his eyes even for a few minutes (hours?). when his eyes usually open again it's bright outside and he curses you for cursing him in such a cruel manner (what if you disappear or betray him? is he getting weaker again?)

✧ actually, he doesn't even understand how you manage to fall asleep with him, but he always makes sure to remind you that you look stupid in your sleep (you don't)

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin #kunikuzushi #headcanons #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader

[nite-puff]

fuck it! gay robots!

ishimondo wall-e au! it came to me in a dream.

mondo (… M.O.N.D-0???) is the last robot standing cleaning up earth when he gets a surprise visit from a rocket ship. on that ship is taka (… T.A.K.A???) who has been sent to find any proof that earth can support life once again. the two meet and shenanigans ensue. maybe they fall in love???

anyways, more rambling from me about these two under the cut.

okay! so my main thing with mondo and his behavior is that it’s all based on him being the last being on earth, so he really doesn’t have anyone around him (other than his pet cockroach, chuck!) and therefore doesn’t feel the need to act a certain way to impress anyone. so this is version of mondo is if he didn’t have a whole bunch of self-image issues and just was his funki and cringe self. he literally is cringe and free.

after years having to clean up earth, he’s grown an affinity for the little things to pass the time. like collecting little knick-knacks he finds on the job to bring back home or making figures out of the cubes of trash he makes. he’s a little artist and collector.

taka on the other hand is at first rigid and is set out to complete his directive because it’s what he was made to do. he has a whole population back on the axium counting on him to find any traces of life on earth (or so he thinks). he does occasionally display some signs of humanity and happiness. he feels warmth in the little things as well, like a cockroach or bubble wrap or a lighter. he’s enthralled and wants to know more about this strange place but can’t because he has a job to do. maybe the strange little robot guy he meets doesn’t throw him off his course.

design stuff! i know i made mondo look less… anthro ig??? in his design than taka, but i wanted to make up for it by “personalizing” him a bit. he’s doodled all over himself and he thinks his trousers make him look nice. maybe he thinks the doodles look badass because they’re like tattoos. i also did that to contrast more with taka, who looks spotless. i was considering giving him legs, but remembered that of course he would have wheels. biker, and alla that. he was born to roll around. and i don’t think it’s noticeable, but i tried to make his arms and hands bigger than wall-e’s because he’s a little stronger. in this au, mondo doesn’t do the trash compacting his his little cube body, but with his hands (to keep with the idea that mondo likes to work and creat stuff with his hands). so he needs to have bigger and more efficient tools. also, i changed his wheels to be diamond shaped.

taka meanwhile was super easy to design. he and eve have sorta similar design qualities, like a majority white color palette and very simple shapes with not a lot of detail going on. very easy to mix the two. the idea of his design is what spurred me into thinking about this au. the one thing i’ll point out is that i made eve’s little dots that pop up when she scans things vertical so that it can sort of resemble taka’s medal. idk i thought it was neat.

(also, if im being completely honest with myself, if taka was actually any wall-e character, he would be MO. just an angry gremlin that musters up the courage to stray off his path because he is so determined to clean up wall-e’s mess. and then they become friends at the end. he just gives off taka energy.)

anyways, that’s it for right now. im pretty satisfied with taka’s design, but im considering changing some things on mondo’s. mainly the color palette.

am i gonna turn this into a full-fledged story??probably not, but maybe i’ll add more onto it in the near future. like assigning other characters.

wall-e’s a cute movie. gotta put the blorbos in it.

#i actually have no idea what their names would stand for #rewatched wall-e for this post. forgot how sweet it is. :) #danganronpa #mondo owada #kiyotaka ishimaru #ishimondo #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #danganronpa fanart #danganronpa au #doodlepuff #ramblepuff

[themanfromeire]

Could I request Sirius helping his girlfriend who ends up blind after a mishap with a potion? It's temporary but the poor girl still has to get around somehow!

Of course you can, mo grhá! Thanks for requesting. I hope it’s okay :) Also, thank you for the request!!

Sirius Black x Reader - Blinded By Love

A potion mishap involving a carrot, a done with everything Remus, a trying reader, and chaotic Sirius Black and James Potter.

Cross posted to AO3

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Potions lessons where you were partnered with your boyfriend were anything but boring. 

Not only did you have to concentrate on reading the instructions written in front of you, stirring the potion at a certain time, a certain frequency and a certain direction, but you also had to fend off Sirius AND James simultaneously. 

God, you were a strong person. 

You had proposed to Remus that he become partners with you, so that your work would actually be completed to an acceptable standard, but the lycanthrope had declined, citing Sirius’ complete and utter adoration of you as a reason not to. 

He claimed that he would be unable to concentrate with the lustful looks you two would send each other from across the room. Remus also stated that unless you were partnered together, Sirius would whine to him about being separated from you all day. 

The Welshman didn’t think he was emotionally strong enough to listen to Sirius complain about not being near you. ‘The year of him simping over you was bad enough!’ he had explained with a chuckle. The guy was not mean, just done with everything. 

You had proposed that you keep the two on leashes, with dream catchers tied above them to keep them occupied whilst you and Remus completed the potions assignment. The idea had drawn a hearty laugh from Remus, along with a playful ruffle of your hair, but not an agreement. 

So here you were, trying to brew a potion with your chaos that you called your boyfriend, along with his platonic love of his life, James. Remus loomed between the two desks, making the odd sarcastic comment to you.

It was complete pandemonium, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sirius turned the page of your textbook to distract you, whilst James added something to your cauldron. It was not an unusual occurrence, in fact, it was so common that James, Sirius and Remus frequently made bets about who out of the first two could add the largest object to your potion without you noticing.

What was unusual was what happened next. 

As your lover distracted you so James could drop an entire carrot that he had stolen from the Great Hall at lunchtime that day, you realised what was happening, and whipped your head towards the cauldron.

Just in time to see it explode. 

Bright orange liquid flew in all directions with a bang that you felt reverberate in every single cell of your body. The kind that shook your core, like a marching band trudging by, filling your being with the pounding of the bass drum and snare to the rhythm of their steps. 

And then, silence. Followed by hysterical laughter. 

The voice of Slughorn cut through, trying to calm the laughter of the Marauders, but nothing could bring that train back to the station, especially not as James Potter stood in the centre of the room, completely covered in orange goop. 

“The four of you, detention. I will be deducting 30 points from Gryffindor for your antics, Mr Black, and Mr Potter. Go to Madame Pomfrey at once. The very second she dismisses you, I want all of you back here to clean up this mess. Do I make myself clear?” 

 A chorus of insincere “Yes sir”s that were interrupted with giggles replied, and as the other two exited the dungeons, Sirius’ arm found its usual home around your waist, and the boy began to guide you out of the room, something which you were eternally grateful for. 

You allowed your boyfriend to guide you towards the hospital wing as you raised a hand to your eyes and began to rub the orange, carrot-scented potion from your them to view the spectacle that had Remus howling with laughter, and your boyfriend’s echoing along the corridor, but as you rubbed at your eyes, the darkness remained. 

You dug the heels of your hand into your eyes, frantically rubbing, attempting to banish the umbra from your vision, but no change occurred. Maybe if you tried harder, it would disappear?

As you went to attempt to scrub it away once more, a cold and gentle hand wrapped around your wrist. Sirius. “Hey now, baby. Prongsie didn’t mean to explode our potion, there’s no need to cry.” Sirius’ voice adopted a soft, yet lighthearted tone as he spoke. 

It only got more joking as he continued. “But I’d say karma has paid a nice visit to him. Oi, Prongs, I thought you were a proud Gryffindor, mate! What house are you now? Clementine?” He barked a laugh at his own joke, though you could hear his laugh die down as he noticed your silence. 

Instead of giggling along at his quips, you were still aggressively massaging your poor eyes. Sirius pulled your hands down from your face. “Oh mon amour…” He began softly, using the caring tone he reserved only for the Marauders and you, “You’re absolutely clarried in it.”

He moved his hand from your wrist, and to your cheek. He stroked it softly. “Look at me.” He asked softly, but you couldn’t even pinpoint the direction that his voice was coming from. “Baby?” Sirius asked, and you could hear the concern in his voice rising. 

“Siri… I can’t see.” You uttered ashamedly. The words froze Sirius in his tracks, and he squeezed your waist tighter, pulling you closer to his body. “We’ll… We’ll get you to Madame Pomfrey, okay? Just hold on, darling,” He assured you, but there was clear anxiety in his voice as he fumbled over his words. 

Your boyfriend began to power walk towards the Hospital Wing, his arm still around you protectively. As he pushed past James and Remus, he didn’t even entertain the other two Marauders’ questions, his priority was you. 

Once you arrived at the Hospital Wing, Madame Pomfrey took one look at the two of you and pointed to an empty bed where Sirius led you. The Mediwitch didn’t even ask what had happened as she began to treat you. 

Years of dealing with the Marauders had numbed her to their actions and their resulting stupidity caused injuries. There was never a dull day dating Sirius Black, that’s for sure.

#marauders #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #marauders reader #james potter #remus lupin #marauders era #the marauders #sirius black imagine #sirius black fluff #harry potter #anon

[wasabijean]

‼️ART FOR DONATIONS TO PALESTINIAN FUNDRAISERS‼️

Hello! A few days ago I began kickstarting my own personal Art for Palestine Campaign on Twitter, and I’m bringing it over to Tumblr as well! By donating to the fundraisers linked below, I will draw you something!

Details on how to help are here!!⬇️⬇️

First, send proof of donation to this google form (I require a screenshot of receipt with name, amount donated and who you donated to.)

After receiving your form, I will then DM you on Tumblr, to let you know your place in queue on trello, and the Estimated time of completion for your art! I will send WIPs if asked.

Here is what to expect based on how much you donate, example drawings are in the google form, or search #my-art tag on my blog.

$1 - traditional full page notebook sketches

$5 - digital messy sketch 

$10 - digital clean sketch black & white/monocolor shading

$15 - digital clean sketch with color

$30 - (2 people) digital clean sketch and color

($40 - Three people)

($50 - Four people)

$60 - Clean Rendered Portrait (simple background, bust up)

$100 - Clean Rendered Full body, full background, full color

5. And here is the list of fundraisers participating, please donate to ALL of them, not just one!

Aya & Mohammed - Both torn by the occupation, them and their families are trying to evacuate Gaza. Mohammed is a survivor of IOF imprisonment for 20 days without outside contact.

Farah & her family - A 20-year-old english translator studying at Al Azhar University, Farah is young and has already gone through much. She and her family are trying to cross the border in Rafah.

Mahmoud Mush - A Palestinian graduate with dreams of establishing his Bakery, all his work undone by the bombings. He is determined to rebuild and pursue his dream no matter what.

Dounia Tanani & her family - A Palestinian mother who graduated as a translator and has been left homeless like many others. She and her family are trying to evacuate Gaza and begin a new life to raise her child.

Ahmed Almofty & his family - He is a recent graduate in Gaza with a promising future, and now he has no home or possessions. Ahmed's future relies on rebuilding his families lives.

Sondos Maher & her family - She is a 27 year old mother of three children who runs a family vlogging channel and now is trying to get them out of Gaza.

Nagham & her family - She is a third year medical student in Gaza who hopes to escape to Canada where her Gaza-born brother, Yasmeen, resides. To start her life anew for her and her family, they need to be evacuated!

Issa & family - They are apart of a family of 6, two of which are college students, while their youngest child is 12 years old. They are trying to evacuate and continue their children's education!

Hafez & his daughters - He is a father two young and bright girls, Malak, a 5-year-old with a love for school and his baby Habiba, born during the occupation. Please donate so they stay healthy!

Mostfa and his family – A young Palestinian body builder who has broke many records and set a precedent for his community, he and his family suffers from the occupation and sickness caused by it.

I will add more fundraisers for those who would like to participate, just tell me and I will add on to this via reblog. Palestine will be free, and it starts with helping the people who need freeing.

#fanart #my art #osmosis jones #palestine #artists for palestine #donation art #art commisions #free palestine #ozzy & drix