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saintsenara · 7 months

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Thoughts on Ron and Hermione as a ship?

thank you very much for the ask, @thesilverstarling!

i’ll state my position straight away: book ron and hermione are the best of the canon couples.

they will have a long and extremely happy marriage made rich by great and stalwart love, lust, fun, and faithfulness, rather than held together by duty and couples’ therapy like so many readers and authors (including jkr, who seems to have decided to spend the years since the conclusion of the series failing to understand anything about her own characters) tend to think.

i will state another position straight away: lest i seem like i’m just a fan with blinkers on, i think this even though hermione is, by far, my least favourite member of the trio. if she were real i would detest her, and i dislike how she is treated by the narrative as always justified in her negative characteristics. i like fanon hermione - perfect and preternaturally good - even less.

as a result, i think that it’s ridiculous that jkr has said that she thought ron needed to ‘become worthy’ of hermione. they belong together as equals - which is what they’re set up in the narrative as being from the off - and i hate seeing that undermined.

because ronald weasley? he’s an icon. and he doesn’t get anywhere near the respect he deserves in fandom.

there are multiple reasons for this - ron’s narrative purpose is to be the everyman sidekick, and so he is able to be less special than harry or hermione (the helper-figure); the amount of aristocracy wank in this fandom means that the weasleys’ ordinariness is less appealing to writers than making harry have twenty different lordships and call himself hadrian; the narrative interrogates ron’s flaws - especially his capacity for jealousy - much more intensively than it interrogates either hermione’s (cruel, inflexible, meddling) or harry’s (reckless, self-absorbed, judgemental) - but one i feel is particularly significant is that ron is such a british character that many of his traits are not understood as intended by non-british readers.

in particular - as is outlined in this excellent meta by @whinlatter - ron’s sense of humour isn’t indicative of immaturity or a lack of seriousness, but is, in fact, evidence that he’s the most emotionally aware of the trio.

ron is shown throughout the series to understand how both harry and hermione need to have their emotions approached - and i think there is no piece of writing which says this better than crocodile heart by @floreatcastellumposts:

That was what she liked most about Ron, she thought vaguely. He was very good at being suitably outraged on your behalf. For Harry, for her, for Neville. That sort of thing mattered, when you were hurt or embarrassed or wronged in some way. You needed to have someone else on your side, to be as emotional as you felt, maybe even more so, so that you might feel a bit more normal. It was very decent of him, and she was not sure he realised he did it.

ron’s inherent emotional awareness is an enormous source of comfort to other people. he does the work which isn’t flashy or special - he makes tea and tells jokes and is just there - but which is needed in healthy human relationships far more frequently than a willingness to fight to the death for the other person.

[as an aside, this normality - even though i think it is assumed rather than justified by the text - is also what ginny provides for harry. if you believe that hinny are a good couple but romione aren’t… i can’t help you.]

but let’s look at some specific reasons why ron and hermione belong together:

their communication styles mesh perfectly. ron is the only person hermione knows who feeds her love of being challenged and debated, and who is able to engage in this way of communicating without becoming irate when she refuses to back down. ron is good at picking his battles, but he’s also good at recognising that hermione’s tendency to argue isn’t intended to be confrontational a lot of the time - it’s just the way she works through feelings and problems. he’s far more easy-going about her tendency to nag, interrupt, try to provoke arguments, or speak condescendingly than he’s given credit for - and hermione evidently respects this, since when he does tell her not to push a situation (above all, when she’s trying to needle harry into talking about sirius), she listens to him.

that ron and hermione’s tendency to bicker is taken by fans to be a bad thing is because it’s something harry - from whose perspective the narrative is written - doesn’t understand. harry is extremely conflict-avoidant - he tends to take being pushed on views and opinions he has to be insulting; and he has a tendency to assume that he is right which is just as profound as hermione’s. he and ginny communicate not by debating, but by ginny having no time for his rigidity and refusing to indulge it - but ron and hermione bickering about everything is not a negative thing within their specific emotional dynamic.

[as another aside, this glaring chasm in communication styles is why harry and hermione would be a disaster as a couple.]

they each provide validation the other needs. it’s clear - reading between the lines - that hermione is a tremendously lonely person. the friendlessness of her initial few weeks at hogwarts seems to be a continuation of her experience as a child, and - outside of ron and harry - that friendlessness endures through her schooldays. i’m always struck, for example, by the fact that, when she falls out with ron in prisoner of azkaban, she has no-one else to spend time with, and that this is only avoided in half-blood prince because harry decides not to freeze her out. i don’t think her friendship with ginny is anywhere near as close as fanon seems to imply (ginny has no interest in being nagged either), nor do i think that she’s anywhere near as close to neville (not least because she is so condescending to him) as she’s often written to be.

and this loneliness seems to stretch beyond hogwarts. the absence of hermione’s parents’ from the narrative is - in a doylist sense - clearly just a device to maximise time with the trio all together, but the watsonian reading is that she doesn’t have a particularly good relationship with them. hermione’s obviously upper-middle-class background - the name! the skiing! the holidays in the south of france! - can be presumed, i think, to come with a series of expectations from her parents which she feels constantly that she’s not entirely meeting, particularly expectations attached to academic success.

[for example, the grangers - were she a muggle child - would undoubtedly have ambitions for her to attend an elite university and then go into a prestigious career. tertiary education of the type that they’re familiar with doesn’t seem to exist in the wizarding world - most careers seem to be taught by apprenticeship - and this, alongside all the other divides between the magical and muggle worlds which contribute to the distance between them, would be one very obvious area in which she felt the need to prove herself to them.]

ron, too, has quite a difficult relationship with his position in the family - voldemort’s locket is not wrong to point out that he seems to receive considerably less of his mother’s emotional attention than ginny or the rest of his brothers - and he too is constrained by expectations which he doesn’t know how to explain he has no interest in - above all, molly’s desire for her sons to achieve top grades and go into the ministry.

he also suffers while at hogwarts from being ‘harry potter’s best friend’, something which harry never appreciates. but hermione does. she recognises ron’s jealousy and never allows harry to minimise it (and she and ron are very much aligned on having no respect for harry’s saviour and martyr complexes). she appreciates ron’s strengths - above all his kindness and his sense of humour - and makes him feel as though he’s achieved things with them. and ron does the same for her; he is hugely observant when it comes to her, and he challenges and defends her.

the two of them clearly spend a lot of time together one-on-one while harry’s involved in his various shenanigans (including outside of school - hermione has often arrived at the burrow days or even weeks before harry, and they seem to write to each other frequently when apart). they do this within a relationship which is fundamentally equal. one issue with hinny is that, post-war, harry is going to have to get used to seeing ginny as a peer, rather than as someone he has to protect. but ron and hermione never have that issue - equality is baked into their relationship from the off.

because, to be quite frank, fandom overstates the role that jealousy plays in their relationship. it’s true that ron certainly doesn’t acquit himself brilliantly when it comes to hermione’s relationship with viktor krum (it’s because he’s bi and doesn’t know it yet), and a tendency to externalise his insecurity into trying to make others also feel insecure is one of his primary negative traits (hermione does this too, via her patented lofty voice when she’s trying to condescend to people). but this is often taken as the initial red flag for how the relationship would crash and burn, and ron’s toxic jealousy is often used in fan-fiction as the trigger for emotional and physical violence towards hermione which, frequently, seems to drive her into the arms of either draco malfoy or severus snape… who are, of course, the first people we think of when we hear the words ‘not prone to jealousy’...

but i think it’s important to point out several things in defence of ron’s jealousy over krum. firstly, hermione evidently regards his jealousy as ridiculous - she’s upset by it, yes, but her upset must be understood as being caused by the fact that she wanted him to ask her out. she doesn’t think he’s being possessive, she thinks he’s being stupid. secondly, hermione is equally as jealous over ron’s crush on fleur delacour and relationship with lavender brown. she behaves just as cruelly when it comes to lavender as ron does when it comes to krum - and the narrative only treats her actions as more sympathetic or justified both because harry dislikes lavender too, and because, by that point in the series, jkr has dispensed with any inclination to ever criticise her.

but, outside of this teenage pettiness, ron is never jealous of hermione over things which matter. he is never jealous of her intelligence or competence or ambition or success (indeed, he defends her constantly from attacks designed to undermine her in these areas). for someone who struggles with being overshadowed by harry, he is never upset at being overshadowed by her. he is clearly going to be happy to support her in any of the career ambitions she can be written as having post-war.

and, on this point, i think it’s worth interrogating why so many readers still seem to feel uncomfortable with the idea of ron and hermione having a dynamic where she is the more ‘powerful’ one. [it’s always a bit trite to say ‘but what if the genders were reversed?’, but actually that’s not irrelevant here]. if hermione ends up taking the ministry by storm and ron becomes a stay-at-home father or has a job which is just to pay the bills, what, precisely, is wrong with that? why, precisely, should hermione regard ron making that choice for himself as a negative thing? hermione so often seems to leave ron in fan-fiction because of a lack of ambition - something which seems to be particularly common in dramione - but, in canon, she is shown to not particularly care if ron and harry do the bare minimum when it comes to studying etc. she nags them to do their work so they don’t get in trouble. she doesn’t nag them to do it to the same standard that she would.

and, actually, i think that ron being less ambitious than hermione is something which is key to how well they work. because ron provides not only emotional support, but emotional clarity.

hermione is shown throughout canon to - just as harry does - have a tendency to become obsessive to the detriment of her own health. she is also often - as harry is - emotionally or intellectually inflexible, and finds it hard to move on when what she feels or believes is proven to be wrong. both she and harry are micro-thinkers, who lean towards knee-jerk assumptions and stubborn convictions (and, indeed, hermione has a remarkably hagrid-ish tendency towards blind loyalty).

ron is none of these things. ron is a big-picture thinker (it’s why he’s so good at chess). he’s a pragmatist. he’s the least righteous of the three. he understands that faith and loyalty are choices, and that sometimes these choices will lead to outcomes which are bad or hard. he is the one of the three most willing to own up to having made mistakes. he is the one least likely to act on gut instinct (and, therefore, the hardest to fool - i think it’s worth emphasising that he clocks that tom riddle is tricking harry immediately, the only one of the trio to do so). he understands that things are a marathon, not a sprint. he is the least obsessive.

and these traits contribute to aspects of his character which are underappreciated. ron worries about hermione making herself ill during exams, or when she is using the time-turner, and makes an effort to get her to set healthy boundaries and redirect her anxiety. ron stands on a broken leg in front of sirius or goes into the forest to fight aragog not out of righteousness, but out of choice. ron takes over the burden of preparing buckbeak’s defence when it is clear that hermione is approaching burnout. ron is completely right that harry hasn’t done any long-term planning for the horcrux hunt, and his anger does force harry to tighten up after he leaves the trio. ron has a clear head in the middle of battle. ron makes harry and hermione laugh. ron is unafraid of human emotion. ron arrests harry’s tendency to brood over the little things by looking at the bigger picture. ron will always come back.

ron is bringing his politician wife regular cups of tea and making sure she doesn’t work all night. he is helping his lawyer wife to feel less upset over losing one case by reminding her that she’s won ten others. he is noticing stress creeping in and whirling her off for a dirty weekend, or even just a takeaway on the sofa. he is teaching his daughter to be proud of her ambition and his son to treat women as equals and both of his children that all you can do when you fuck up is apologise and try to do better. he is making hermione smile on the worst days of her life. he is helping her strategise her long-term goals when she gets stuck on the short-term ones. he is telling her straight when she needs to get it together. he is seeing a misogynistic head of department call hermione a ‘silly little girl’ and choosing to tell him exactly what he thinks of that.

ron is the ultimate wife guy. hermione is a very, very lucky lady.

#asks answered #asenora's opinions on ships #romione #ron weasley #hermione granger #ron is a wife guy #also may i be clear #ron is evidently unbelievably hot #the text says he looks like bill #who is so fit that harry can barely see when in his company #hermione you lucky thing

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raz-writes-the-thing · 7 months

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Angel's Blood

Aziraphale x GN!Vampire!Reader + a hint of Crowley

18+ ONLY / Requests are OPEN

Read part two- Demon's Blood

Summary: It's entirely an accident when you discover Angel's blood is an aphrodisiac.

CW: vampire!reader, blood, i guess blood kink if you squint, choking, thigh riding

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

Being a Vampire had its draws, that was for absolutely sure. Strength, heightened senses (although this could be a hit and miss, depending on which sense you were talking about), speed, and your personal favourite- elongated life. Being able to watch the world grow and thrive around you, it was something truly special.

It was also a curse too, but that was less fun to think about, so you generally tended to avoid thoughts about it as much as you could. Now, you weren’t necessarily a ‘vegetarian’ Vampire, per se. But you did your best to only bleed people dry who ‘deserved’ it. Real bottom of the barrell stuff. It was… not particularly tasty.

And what with the lockdowns, and the lack of evil and wrongdoing in the air, you’d found it becoming exceptionally difficult to find yourself more meals. The 1940s had basically been an all-you-can-eat buffet. Oh, sure, that wasn’t a good thing, but you’d not been sated quite the same way ever since. Never enough walking popsicles about these days.

Oh, now there was an idea. Frozen blood pops. You thought you might give those a try when you got your next few blood bags. But those were still a while away, and you were hungry now.

Usually it was not a huge deal to wait a while between meals, but given how uptight and wound Humanity was getting, and how much harder it was getting to, well, get away with things, you were spacing things out more than you should have been already, and as you pushed your way through the Bookshop doors, you knew Aziraphale knew what was going on immediately.

You’d met the Angel and Demon pair several centuries ago during a particularly popular theatre act, and you had hit it off immediately. They’d both known exactly what you were, and did not beat around the bush about it. The fact that they’d not feared you in the slightest helped with that too. You didn’t have to keep your guard up around them, and once you’d told Aziraphale about who, what, when and where you fed on- he was much more inclined to become friendly with you.

“Az- Zira-” you panted, the bell on the door clanging wildly and loudly as you practically fell through the door frame. “Do I- have any- blood here?” Each couple of words took effort to say, and were punctuated with a heaving breath in. You usually kept a small stash at your usual haunts just in case, but you had a sneaking suspicion based on the look on Aziraphale’s face, that no, you did not have any spare snacks sitting around.

“Oh, dear- erm, no, I don’t believe so, darling-” the Angel said concernedly. You braced yourself against the door and smacked your dry lips.

Well fuck.

“Shit,” was all you replied, arm wobbling before your body gave out on you. Before you hit the ground you felt arms around you, pulling you up and against Aziraphale’s body. You could smell his soap on his skin, a mix of white sage and oregano and you clung to him desperately so you wouldn’t fall.

Aziraphale led you over to his arm chair, settling himself down with you in his lap. He brushed the hair out of your forehead and you shivered, your nerves becoming more panicked by the minute.

“You know you shouldn’t leave it this long between… meals,” he practically tutted as if unsure what the correct word to use was, and you let out a shaky chuckle, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. You weren’t sure if it was the desperate hunger or what, but Aziraphale smelt so fucking good.

“Yeah, yeah,” you replied, nosing at his skin softly. Your arm pulled closer around his torso. “It’s getting- harder. Not so much- supply,” you sighed, the panting easing now you weren’t exerting so much energy with movement.

It wasn’t as if you’d die if you didn’t feed. It was just that without the blood, there’d be no flow in your system, and with no blood flow your body would just… stop working. Dry up and go stiff like an old doll. You’d be stuck in a coma until more blood was transfused into you.

How did you know this? Well, let’s just say you did not particularly want to repeat the end of the 14th century. You shuddered at the memory and Aziraphale rubbed your shoulder, cooing at you softly in an effort to comfort you.

“Can I do anything for you?” Aziraphale asked softly, kissing the top of your forehead. You nosed at his neck another moment in throught before it came to you. Aziraphale had a body. One that pumped blood.

“I- I have an idea,” you said quietly, pulling away from his throat to look up at him. Aziraphale’s gaze was soft as he nodded, asking what he could do to help you. That was Aziraphale for you, always ready to give for the next person in need.

“I need to feed,” you say slowly and evenly, measuring the Angel’s reactions. “And I’m too weak to find someone who… I can feed off.” You wait to see if he gets what you’re hinting at, and when his eyes widen in shock, you can’t help but be amused at the comical expression.

“Oh- oh, my,” he splutters as his brain processes the request. And it is a request. You’d never take advantage or take anything from him without his permission. It wasn’t who you were. Not at all. “Oh, well, I suppose,” he adds, clearing his throat. You didn’t even know if it was safe to drink Angel blood. But you supposed you were about to find out.

“Not too much,” he adds, readjusting to make it easier for you to gain access to his neck. “Takes a while to replenish, you see.” You can hear the blood pumping just a little faster- smell the spike of sage that permeates the air over his skin. You shudder out a breath, looking at him one more time. One more chance to back out of this.

When he tilts his head just a little further in submission, you stop hesitating, fangs appearing in a flash of a second only to disappear again- sinking into Aziraphale’s flesh. The feel of his skin under your lips is to die for. The Angel gasps, the hint of a yelp lost in the haze of blood finally, finally hitting your tongue.

You let out a groan of pure satisfaction, sucking a little harder. That sweet liquid tasting of peonies, iron and ink. Everyone tasted a little different. God, did he taste good though. You let out a possessive growl and twisted in Aziraphale’s arms so you were sitting on his lap, straddling one thigh and pulling him by the hair to gain as much access as possible.

“God, fuck, Zira-” you panted, pulling away to lick your lips clean. Your eyes were blown wide watching a drop of blood swell and trail down towards his collar. You surged forward to lick it clean and let out a whimper. “Fuck, fuck- you taste good.”

The Angel let out a breathy chuckle, and you managed to tear your gaze away from his willing throat to look into his face. His own eyes were darker than usual, and a pink tint was colouring his cheeks. You leaned in to sniff under the bone of his jaw and grinned a sharks grin. Oh, he was enjoying this.

“Do you like it too, Zira? Like it when I feed on you? Shit, I can feel your blood inside me- Angels Blood. Fuck.” You’d barely realised that you’d started grinding softly on his clothed thigh, jolts of pleasure travelling up your nerves like electric shocks. Nothing had ever tasted or felt this good- not in your couple thousand years of life.

But why, why was it so good? Was it because his blood was undiluted? Pure blood straight from the Heavens- literally? That had to be it. God, it was almost… euphoric. Fuck it, it was euphoric.

When Aziraphale moved to wrap his warm hands around your hips and have you grind down harder and faster, you moaned, head tilted back in pleasure. The Angel tilted his head to the side and let out a quiet plea. “Take more, p-please,” he whispered.

And who were you to deny him his hearts desires?

Your fangs sank back into his skin, and his hips jerked up slightly in your direction. You moaned, sending little vibrations through his neck and shoulder and one hand reached down to palm at him through his slacks.

“O-oh,” he gasped out, fingers tightening on your hips as you began to move in tighter circles, grinding yourself down on him and panting with the pleasure shooting up your spine. Your muscles were already beginning to ache but you persevered, the pleasure far outweighing the burn.

Aziraphale whimpered quietly, biting his lip and adjusting his knee to have you seated more comfortably. The movement of his thigh pulled a deep groan from you, and your fingers pressed into his bulge with a little more devilish intent.

Fuck, you were not going to last long and you knew it, it was almost like you’d been strung on a high wire and the ampage turned up to eleven. Fuck, the only thing that could make this better was if-

“Fucking Hell,” you hear behind you. The shock and the adrenaline that came with being caught sent your hips forward harshly, a noise of pleasure escaping whether you wanted it to or not. The pair of you hadn’t even locked the door. “Angel, I didn’t take you for this kind of behaviour. Seems more like my kind of thing.”

You feel Aziraphale’s fingers clench tighter on your hips, dragging you forward and back over his thigh. You can barely focus on the conversation over the pleasure.

“It’s- ah- not what it looks like, Crowley-” Aziraphale manages to say. You’re pretty sure you know exactly what this looks like, and you’re not sure how Aziraphale intends to explain this to his Demon friend. Lover. The three of you were a lot of things to each other. It was bound to happen when you spend so many human lifetimes around each other.

“Isn’t it?” Crowley asks, taking a seat down on the chair facing opposite to Zira. You suck a little harder, more of your Angel’s blood laving over your tongue. Your hand massages against him and one of his arms comes up so his hand can caress your spine.

“Because, and, right- correct me if I’m wrong- but it looks as though you’re letting our dear old friend here fuck your thigh and drink you practically dry,” his gaze must catch on the way you’re rubbing your hand over Aziraphale’s very prominent and thick erection. “Mm, well, and there’s that. Not overly Holy, I would have thought. But don’t stop on my account.”

You feel Aziraphale’s fingers lift from your spine and suddenly Crowley isn’t on the chair anymore. He’s pressed up against your back and reaching to pull softly on your hair. You pant as your mouth is pulled away from Aziraphale’s neck, and the Angel in question whines in protest.

Crowley pulls you into a kiss, licking the blood from your lips and giving you a truly devilish grin. He lets go only to wrap a hand around your throat and squeeze.

“Naw, what’s wrong, Pet? Hmm? You want to cum?” The Demon squeezes tight enough to cut off your air and you hump against Aziraphale’s thigh desperately. Crowley has the audacity to laugh, standing above you and holding you steady.

“Go on, then,” he snarls, pressing tighter still. You whine and rock your hips harder, your hand grinding against Aziraphale at the same time, who is turning his head to press kisses to Crowley’s wrist reverently. “Come for us, Pet. Hungry thing.”

You cry out as Aziraphale bumps his leg up against you, the final touch to make you fall over that edge. You cum hard, jerking in Crowley’s grip as he loosens his fingers just enough to allow you to breathe in again. He laughs, giving you a light pat on the cheek. Hard enough to feel but not to hurt.

As soon as he releases your throat, you’re burying yourself in Aziraphale’s neck, seeking warmth and comfort, hips rolling over his thigh to ride out your pleasure. Your hand has reached into his slacks by now, tugging at him erratically and quickly. The Angels head tilts back in pleasure, where you’re sure Crowley is giving him a downright filthy look.

As soon as your lips press a featherlight kiss to the marks you’ve left on him, he cums. Ribbons of white coating your fingers inside his slacks. You let out a moan of a laugh, tired and sated, as he pants underneath you.

He’s got his eyes clenched shut with the pleasure, but as soon as he starts to come down, Crowley leans over to kiss him hungrily. The Angel reciprocates, reaching up to cup his jaw.

You’re still snuggled up on Zira’s lap, the post-nut haze settling thickly and heavily into your skin. You let out a yawn, and lick your lips clean, the last of the Angel’s blood entering your system.

“So,” you say tiredly as Crowley leans against the other arm of the chair next to the pair of you. “I’ve learned some things today.” Your fingers dance over Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Who would have thought Angel’s blood would be such a powerful aphrodesiac, huh?”

Crowley hums in thought before giving you a wicked grin, a hint of a flash of yellow behind his sunglasses.

“Makes you wonder what Demon’s blood can do, eh?”

Hmm, makes you wonder indeed…

#fanfiction #good omens #gomens #crowley #crowley x reader #crowley good omens #one shot #aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley x reader #smut #good omens fanfiction #good omens fic #michael sheen #lemon #vampire!reader #vampire reader #gender neutral reader #david tennant

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millerscoffee · 6 months

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there's no such thing as good grief

1k | joel miller x reader

rating: G, i guess

warning: grief, parental loss, mentions of sarah and ellie, halloween, porch swinging, hand holding, soft!joel, joel is a guardian angel tbh. no use of y/n

A/N: this is a little self indulgent, i suppose. but i needed to write, i haven't written in, what, a month? and i wanted to oil the wheel. it's probably not the best, i kinda halfway proofread it, but that's okay. who better to navigate grief with than joel "the grief ain't good™️" miller? thanks for being cool about it.

Leaves of trees change colour before they shrivel and descend to the ground.

That’s just how life works.

That’s how it’s supposed to happen. And it was in Jackson.

It surprised you, even still, that in the depths of despair within humanity, traditions were so closely held to the chests of those still alive and willing to stoke its embers.

It’s dusk. The town’s children in makeshift costumes or ones from long ago in tattered material. You think about her, your mother. Halloween was never her particular favourite, but she had a soft spot for a sweet treat. You buried her on this day. Sometimes it’s easier than others. Today it’s hard.

You’re on your porch, and your light is on. The town made different types of toys for the kids of the community, you laid yours out on the porch.

For the most part, you’re okay. It’s been long enough now that your mother’s death wasn’t always the first thing you thought of every year. But it’s in the things that catch you off guard. A child giggling with her mother over a toy that looked silly.

It’s simple. It’s sweet. It makes you nauseous.

You’re swaying in your porch swing, staring off into the distance when you hear the heavy boots of someone familiar. It shows up before his voice.

“Y’alright?”

If you weren’t so numb, you’d be startled. Instead, your eyes shift up to the man who you know well enough by now to come up on your porch without permission.

You could nod. You could pretend you are okay and have him pull it out of you until the truth pours freely from your mouth, but what’s the point? Why hide it? There had been so much of your life that was dappled in pretending to be okay, whether it was self-preservation, or sheer obstinacy to admit it.

You didn’t have it in you.

Instead, you pat the spot next to you with a shrug.

“Been better.”

Joel liked that you were honest. Not that it mattered, not that he was here to praise you for exposing vulnerable parts of yourself to him. At least not like this. It was far removed from his intentions. He knew you had someone in your life that you had to bury, and he understood what that meant.

Grief lain with you both as he took place beside you.

His warmth, overcoming, radiating into your bones.

Swallowing on the knots in your throat, you nudge your knee against his and it’s natural.

You don’t know how it became so fucking natural.

You’d kept your distance from each other for so long. It seemed appropriate. No real reason to encounter each other, but one day you noticed Joel rubbing his chest. A telltale sign that you knew well. After that, you’d become inseparable to some extent, though never quite tiptoeing any major lines. He had your back, and you had his. It felt nice to be around someone so protective. And, god, did he feel that way with you.

As if life itself had been kickstarted into his system from years of feeling like a zombie.

All the same, you didn’t have to explain yourself to him to know what you mean.

“Yeah,” Joel pauses, his heel taking over the rocking motion, back and forth on the seat you share. “Hard for me, too. Y’need anything?”

Your chin turns to gaze at him. It was hard for him, too. You imagined how difficult it was to see children with their dad. At least he had Ellie, but even she needed her space from all this.

You focus on his side profile, the scar that remains as a reminder to the life he had before this horrible reality.

Then again, the horrible reality happened when he held Sarah’s dying body in his arms.

It sends a chill through you, your fingers instinctively running into the bear paw that was his hand. Rough and calloused, yet so open and willing to take yours.

Dichotomous.

As some sort of clairvoyant, he welcomes you, knowing the conversation could be said without words.

“Nuh uh.”

Just this, you want to say.

The gravel catches your throat now, but tears don’t tempt as readily as they used to. Call it being hardened, call it time. Grief wasn’t linear, but this year had a particular sting.

That’s about the time a child and her mother come up to trick or treat for one of the toys you’ve made. And although a smile appears on your face, Joel can see the sadness at the corners of your eyes. He waits to speak until they leave.

“Opposite ends of the same coin, I guess.”

You puff out an unamused laugh, gaze cast at your lap.

“Something like that,” chewing the corner of your cheek, he squeezes your fingers when you look up at him. “It doesn’t get easier, does it?”

Joel stops the porch swing, his eyes soft but dark – as if he’s going over what he’s had to replay in his head for so many years.

“What do you think?” He echoes quietly, enough to cause you to turn and face him.

“I think… I’m glad you stopped by. I think it’s very thoughtful of you to check on me.”

“Alright, she’s gone soft,” a small smile piles at the corner of his face, and you mirror it. Hard not to. A tear falls at both of your ability to find a crack of light.

“Don’t get used to it.”

Joel exhales in amusement, rocking the two of you again. Eyes close for a minute against the crisp air of autumn.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

It’s quiet for a while after that. Your head rests on his shoulder. His scent brings you comfort. You don’t hardly realise all the kids and their parents as they make it home.

“...Joel?”

“You’d do the same for me.”

“Will you let me thank you?”

Joel turns his head, burying his nose in your hair.

“This is enough,” squeezing your fingers, he presses a tentative kiss to your temple. One without a scar, but a temple with trouble behind it, nonetheless. “It’s more than enough.”

How could you argue with that?

taglist, comment to be added: @cool-iguana @livingdeadmaria @sinfulrock @jasminedragoon @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @scarletthefierce @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @poodlebae @its-nebuleuse @harrieandharassed @msmorningstaarr

#joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #soft!joel #soft!joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x afab!reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel tlou #tlou #the last of us hbo #joel the last of us #joel miller #pedro pascal #by bee

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tears0fsatan · 9 months

Note

I have something in mind

Can brothers+ Simeon (If you can) react to a smutty fanfic with male mc written by some random succubus?

They're just randomly scrolling on devilgram (or any other platform) and they see this fanfic (if you know what I mean)

Sorry if it's a bit confusing.

✦ ⊹ ˚˖ warnings... nsfw??, below 16 do not interact u'll be blocked if u do, male!mc, mainly implied dom!mc, mainly implied top!mc, possessive language yeahhhh 🤘🤘🤟, praise, levi has two dicks lol (its canon atp yall source: trust me), implied blowjob lol (levi), lowkey exhibitionism (satan&beel), mention of somno (belphie), mention of body worship lol (simeon)

:¨·.·¨ ♥︎ a.n... wait this is actually pretty cute??? HAHAHA had so many ideas for this thank you hon <3 (lol lets move past the fact that this req is almost a year old and it reminded me of svsss lowkey)

LUCIFER !

he doesn't really remember how things had gotten to this point, one moment he was busy doing his paperwork and the next he was reading this... obscene nonsense on his phone. it was horribly vulgar and terribly inappropriate, not to mention how it invaded his and MCs privacy.

yet for some reason, he couldn't look away.

lucifer was no teenage boy, he had the willpower to move mountains and never felt the urge to masturbate, especially to something as crass as smut of someone he knew personally.

he had no need to read horrible stuff like this since he could easily have the real thing, yet he had to admit, there was something rather enticing about someone's lewd fantasies between him and MC. it annoyed him to no end that someone thought of his MC in such a way but knowing that they knew it was lucifer that was the one making his human feel so good eased his jealousy.

it was comical almost, how the author depicted him fucking MC into the next day when in reality it was the opposite. it was lucifer who was under the mercy of the human, the one who would cry and beg for more, not that anyone outside of the two of them needed to know.

however, there was one commonality between the vulgar post and reality that made his pride flare, no one, not human, angel, or demon, could ever make his little human feel as good as he did. it was interesting to see how accurate yet inaccurate this succubus's fantasy was at the same time and only lucifer would know.

lucifer thought about leaving a comment correcting the author on what a satisfied MC really looked like, on how it was really he himself that trembled under the human's touch, and how MC managed to get the avatar of pride into such a state. yet, knowing that he was the only one who truly knew those little things pleased him greatly, and quickly dismissed the thought. some things were better left unsaid.

MAMMON !

during one of his nightly visits to his favourite casino, mammon couldn’t help but notice how some of the succubi keeping the gambling demons company were whispering amongst each other and giggling to themselves while occasionally throwing glances at him. at first, he thought nothing of it, he was a demon lord after all and the second oldest of all seven avatars of sins on top of being a model, it was no surprise people would recognise him.

throughout the night he caught wind of bits and pieces of the succubi’s whispering and immediately opened his D.D.D. to see exactly what the hell they were muttering about. what he found left him speechless and unable to focus on his bets the entire night, though he tried (and subsequently failed miserably) to not let it show.

there was a flare of anger at the thought of other people thinking of his MC in that way but the fact that they imagined him with MC had a different feeling flaring up in the pit of his stomach. a sense of smugness bubbled up from within, damn right it was him that was fucking MC, as if he would allow anyone else touch his treasure.

mammon's thoughts kept flitting back to the post despite himself, images of scenes the author described coming to haunt him through his bets and they had him shifting in his seat, eager to keep the money rolling in but also desperate to have MCs arms wrapped around him and make the dirty fantasies of a random succubus come to life.

he wanted to feel MCs desperation on his skin, he wanted the humans attention all on him, his eyes focused on the demon and him alone, but most of all, mammon wanted to hear the cascade of praises that the human sang his way, just like how the post had described. he needed all of it.

before he realised, his thoughts were no longer focused on the money he could've been earning and instead on his human. he'd deal with the perverted succubus and his increasing debt another day, what he needed right now was MC.

LEVIATHAN !

now, leviathan was no stranger to fan fiction, especially smut and x readers. he was what one could describe as an expert on internet culture, so how could he not know about something as infamous as fan fiction? they were his guilty pleasure, not that anyone knew.

he was also no stranger to searching MC up online, whether it was on devilgram to see the most recent photos captured of him or fabsnap to replay the videos of him doing a silly challenge with one of his brothers. while he knew that the real living human was merely a few steps away, leviathan wasn't sure if he wanted such a useless and gross otaku breathing down his neck.

so, when he was scrolling through devilgram to see updates on a new anime he was into and accidentally stumbled upon a once in a lifetime goldmine, how could he pass up the opportunity to read it? i mean, to think that some other basement dweller thought of him with MC in such an intimate way... that was pretty fucking awesome, wasn't it?! leviathan was divided between feeling like the luckiest demon in all three realms and feeling like he had tainted something he shouldn't have, as his eyes shakily scanned the blob of text with bated breath.

there were several moments that sent a shudder down his spine, the description of MC taking his cocks oh so sweetly had him running laps in his mind. even after he finished reading the entirety of the post, he had to go back again, as if to burn the text into his memory.

a whine made its way out of the demon's throat when the mental image of the human stroking his cocks with a lazy smirk on his lips and sharp eyes analysing his every move took reign over his thoughts, the image coming back despite how hard he tried to will it away and focus on the post again. his attempts proved futile, thoughts of MC on his knees in front of him with a cock in each hand, movement stopping completely just as he was about to come flashed in his mind with every breath⎯ leviathan couldn't get him out of his head.

hidden beneath the guilt that came with thinking of such lewd acts with MC lay a flare of envy⎯ how dare someone think of the revered human in such a manner? the more he thought about him and the post, the brighter the flare burned, and soon it consumed him, on top of the sinful thoughts of his human.

SATAN !

while waiting for a certain human to join him at the library for their promised tutoring session, satan decided to scroll through his devilgram, chuckling quietly to himself when he comes across a silly video of cats. however, his laughter soon died down when he scrolled onto the next recommended post and saw that it was about his study date and himself.

after a moment of pondering whether he should take the time to read the horny rambling of a random succubus or not, he ultimately decided, fuck it, why not? it was crude and quite poorly written, he noted, but the thought behind the post was made clear; satan took MC to the library under the guise of tutoring him when in reality it had only been a front to fuck the human in public.

a concoction of emotion bubbled underneath his skin and his mind ran rampant, the thought of someone naively believing that satan would be the one who would do something as ballsy as that nearly made him laugh, but he imagined a scenario where the dynamic flipped, and the chuckle died in his throat. various images of MC using him in a place he deemed to be his haven weaselled past his wall of self control and it became the only thing he could think of.

it wasn't something he hadn't thought of, it was just one that he tried not to acknowledge. after all, it was a public setting and satan had the reputation of a demon lord to keep up, he couldn't just do something indecent where lesser beings could see him and MC. yet, in a way, the vulgar musing of some unknown succubus brought an onslaught of unwarranted thoughts about him and the human doing uncouth things in places where someone could randomly stumble upon them that he didn't hate all that much.

the idea of the human covering his mouth with his hand to silence all the obscene noises so people wouldn't discover them had more of an effect on the demon than he thought and he had to stop himself from divulging in his horny daydreams further.

he was pulled out of his dirty fantasies by the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and satan looked up to see that the human had arrived, chest rising and falling faster than it would normally, giving him the idea that he had run to meet him. the demon put on a smile and continued with the date like he never read the post in the first place, but unbeknownst to MC, there were endless plans swirling around in his mind.

ASMODEUS !

there is no demon in devildom who is more active on devilgram and fabsnap than asmodeus, the avatar of lust himself. it was no surprise to find him scrolling through his phone whenever he wasn't checking himself out on the nearest reflective surface. he isn't ashamed to admit he often checks posts tagged with his name, he enjoyed seeing all the compliments random succubi and inccubi showered him in.

though as of late, there was another name he found himself searching up alongside his. there was no one else it could've been besides MC, the human had somehow managed to worm his way into asmodeus's self fulfilled heart, which shocked even asmodeus himself. the demon always read every caption and comment under a post with either his or MCs name in it, especially posts tagged with both of their names. he made sure to never miss a post, regardless of whether they had something good or bad to say (of course the negative ones all got mysteriously bombarded with death threats and soon after were taken down). it was how he found the random musing of one of his fans.

it was scrambled and all over the place, not to mention the number of inaccuracies woven into it, and yet it turned asmodeus on nevertheless. there was one thing they got right; how the demon absolutely adored milking the human dry. the way his spit coated lips would bleed from how hard he bit on them and the way the filthy, degrading names that made asmodeus tremble in all the right ways would tumble past his lips as he rode him, he loved it all.

he fed off of MC's grunts and delirious praises like they were his last lifeline, both in this fan's fantasy and in real life. he never thought that someone could look as beautiful as himself while orgasming but then the human came along and suddenly it was like he had found god again.

the demon found himself getting more and more worked up as he read the text, the detail in the writing of what the two did sent a delightful shiver down his spine, and asmodeus had a sudden urge to stalk the human down and jump his bones. who knew someone's horny rambling could make asmodeus, the avatar of lust, feel this heated? as he skipped off in the direction of MC, thoughts about commissioning the fan kinkier work in the future cycled through his mind.

BEELZEBUB !

the avatar of gluttony wasn't someone who was constantly glued to his D.D.D. like a certain brother of his, if not for communicating with his brothers and MC or using his food sleuthing skills to find new and upcoming food businesses, he hardly even glanced at his phone.

yet somehow, beelzebub found himself unable to take his eyes off of his phone after one particularly tiring fangol practice. while all the other players had finished washing up and changing, the avatar of gluttony was still seated on the bench, unaware of the world around him. the post that had the demon so entranced was one about MC and himself doing sinful things that he only thought asmodeus would indulge in inside the very room beelzebub was situated in at the moment.

a shiver went down his spine and goosebumps broke out all over his skin, both from sweat that clung to his skin and the cool air and the post on devilgram. he was already hungry from not being able to eat during practice, but the description of MCs equally sweaty chest pressed against his back while his hands roamed beelzebubs waist made him feel a different kind of hunger⎯ a different sort of want.

usually his sin felt like a neverending void that he couldn't fill no matter how much he stuffed himself, and he still felt that, but the constant buzzing was somehow not as strong as the ache in his chest and the fire in his lower belly. amidst the heavy racing of his heart and the adrenaline from practice was still pumping through his veins, the post didn't exactly help with his current predicament.

he knew he needed to shower, to go back home and see his family, to stuff his face with all the food he could imagine in hopes of one day being able to silence the ravenous hunger, but after reading the post, he didn't know if he could take a shower without his member getting hard at the thought of MC doing him there too.

to be pressed up against the wall with his hands bracing his weight, the feeling of lips leaving evidence of their activities and lingering on the spot that drew out all sorts of uncharacteristic noises from the demon for a beat too long, the rough yet gentle touch of the human, all the thoughts swirled around in beelzebub's mind and it overpowered his insatiable hunger.

BELPHEGOR !

he had just woken up from the perfect after school nap with nothing to do, MC wasn't around and beelzebub was most likely in the kitchen emptying out the fridge. all homework that needed to be completed was filled out, it wasn't his turn to make dinner and he had already finished all of his chores. with nothing better to do, belphegor slid his phone out from where it was tucked underneath his pillow and scrolled through devilgram with no real goal in mind.

all the posts that flooded his feed were of fellow RAD students he couldn't have been bothered to remember and random promotional shots of RAD from the student council account that he felt the sleepiness creep back into his mind. just as he was about to shut off his phone and continue his nap, a flash of MCs name caught his eye and he scrolled back up to the post.

it was a relatively long post and belphegor mentally groaned, not in the mood to read something so lengthy, but he caught a glimpse of a few rather enticing words along with the human's name thrown in between and he was suddenly filled with an overwhelming urge to read the entire thing.

the way the author had detailed how MC fell victim to late night wood and couldn't sleep it off no matter how many times he tried while cuddling the demon, resulting in him rutting in between belphegor's thighs until the demon stirred awake had him squirming underneath his blanket.

with the help of his sleep addled mind, he could feel the ghost of MCs touch on his skin and he had to suppress the whine that wanted to crawl out of his throat. his eyes continued to skim through the fat chunk of text, swallowing thickly when he read about how the human sucked on his neck to muffle the sound of his own groans, leaving marks in his wake.

belphegor could hardly finish reading the post due to the onslaught of vivid scenarios of MC being all over him and feeling him up in his sleep, to which he felt his half hard dick twitch in his sweats. content with the train of thought his mind was heading in, the demon shut his phone off with the perfect dream to indulge himself in.

SIMEON !

all he was looking for was a new recipe and yet somehow, he found himself entranced with the filthy, sinful words. simeon was by no means the perfect angel, he had done his fair share of dirty deeds in his time but nothing quite enough to make him fall like his former brothers.

temptation was, naturally, an angel's worst enemy and simeon was known to flout the rules every now and then, and this was of no exception. the words on his D.D.D. were familiar yet strewn in a way that was foreign to the angel. it wasn't as though he was completely ignorant of such activities, but his status as an angel certainly meant that he had limited understanding of it outside of reproduction purposes.

so when this post suddenly showed up on his feed, as an author himself, how could he pass up the opportunity to read such a miracle?

the writer described MC in such a way that left simeon feeling flustered, with how this written version of him became so pliable, like putty in the human's hands. he didn't consider himself submissive, but rather something in between. however, there was something about MC praising him for doing well that made the angel think corrupting himself for the human wasn't all too bad of an idea.

he particularly enjoyed the way the writer entailed that MC was gentle and didn't limit himself when it came to praises while he caressed simeon's body, worshipping his body like it deserved. the angel could practically hear the breathy whisper of his name on the tip of the human's tongue, could see the satisfaction on his face whenever simeon couldn't hold back a noise from how good the human was making him feel.

well, as long as he didn't actually act out what was written, he wasn't breaking any rules, now was he? then, it wouldn't hurt to indulge in a few more similar works, right?

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gerrystamour · 1 year

Text

i could be honest, i could be human [Chapter 3]

Rated E | Steddie

[ FIRST PART ] [ NEXT PART ]

Summary: “God actually hates me, He has to,” Steve muttered darkly, tipping his head back to look up at the sky. “Kinda rich, coming from God’s favourite Golden Child,” Eddie said, coming around in front of Steve. Seeing his tears, Eddie’s grin faltered. “Shit, who hurt you, Harrington?”

Chapter Three: October 1984

If it didn’t suck so much, Steve would probably laugh about his situation.

Once again, he felt sorry. Not for himself at the moment, even if it felt like he had been gutted, his chest hollowed out with a dull knife. Mostly, he felt sorry for hurting Nancy all over again. The first time he hurt her, it was him being cruel because he was hurt. This time, it was him trying so hard to make things normal for both of them again.

Maybe he felt a little sorry for himself, he thought sadly, his heart heavy with hurt.

He sat at the far side of Tina’s backyard on a bench that faced the forest, smoking a cigarette and trying really hard not to actually cry.

“Hey, Steve?”

Looking up at the sky, Steve blinked rapidly to compose himself before he glanced over his shoulder. “Hey Jonathan, what’s up?” he greeted, his voice only a little shaky.

“Is everything—I saw you come out here, and Nancy is—?” Jonathan stopped abruptly when Steve blinked a tear loose and it streaked down the cheek he could see.

“Shit,” Steve hissed as another tear fell and he scrubbed at his face roughly. “Fuck!”

“Is there some way I can help?” Jonathan asked, soft and genuine, and Steve wished he could be mad at him. If this happened a year ago, he definitely would have snapped at him, maybe even hit him just for seeing him cry.

Blowing out a gusty breath, Steve nodded. “Can you get Nancy home? She’s had a lot to drink and she doesn’t want me—my help,” he said quietly.

“Hey, don’t say that, she loves—” Jonathan started, and Steve cut him off with a sharp sound.

“Jonathan, please. I don’t—just… Make sure Nancy gets home okay?” Steve nearly begged, pinching the bridge of his nose as another stupid wave of tears welled up.

“Yeah, man, totally,” Jonathan said and he grabbed Steve’s shoulder with a gentle firmness that went a long way toward comforting him. “You okay to get home too?”

“I live down the street, man, I’m fine,” Steve chuckled, his voice still wavering and a bit watery.

“Oh, right, I guess I forgot,” Jonathan laughed, and that actually brought a bit of a real smile to Steve’s face. He must have been doing something right over the past year for Jonathan to forget that his parents were rich. “See you at school?”

“Yeah, see you at school,” Steve replied with a nod, patting Jonathan’s hand where it still held his shoulder before the other boy let go.

With a heavy sigh, Steve leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, hanging his head while his forgotten cigarette slowly burned down. He had been quitting that stupid habit, which he’d only picked up in the first place because Tommy smoked. Nancy always made a face when he would lean in to kiss her, even hours after he had smoked, so he gradually just stopped entirely. Of course, now that he was apparently cut loose from that relationship, he was back to his old habits. Would he go back to being King Steve, supreme asshole of Hawkins High? Reclaim his throne from that piece of shit Billy Hargrove?

Was he only a good person because he thought Nancy Wheeler was in love with him?

A new wave of tears welled up and he choked around a sob that stuck in his throat like shards of glass. He let the tears happen this time, staring listlessly down at the ground between his feet, miserably trying to figure out where his performance for Nancy ended and his actual personality began.

When he couldn’t immediately determine that answer, he let out a sighing sob.

He was probably too drunk to be thinking about it.

A shoe scuffed the ground just behind Steve and he tensed, screwing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. Of course Jonathan didn’t actually walk away, too soft to leave his former-bully and sort-of-friend crying on Halloween.

“Byers, I swear to God, if you don’t go take care of Nance like I asked, I’m going to barge into the dark room every time you’re in there until I graduate,” Steve threatened half-heartedly. He somehow already did that more often than he cared to admit, but that was neither here nor there.

“Not Byers, Your Majesty.”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve hissed, sitting up to take a long drag from his cigarette.

Eddie chuckled behind him. “Damn, you’re bad at this, Harrington. Guess again.”

“God actually hates me, He has to,” Steve muttered darkly, tipping his head back to look up at the sky.

“Kinda rich, coming from God’s favourite Golden Child,” Eddie said, coming around in front of Steve. Seeing his tears, Eddie’s grin faltered. “Shit, who hurt you, Harrington?”

Steve bristled, and the thought of telling Eddie anything about what happened in that bathroom… he would legitimately rather take on a Demogorgon again.

“Can we just get this over with, Munson?” Steve asked tiredly, wiping the tears off of his cheeks. To his frustration, they were immediately replaced with fresh ones.

“Get what over—?”

“Y’know, where you laugh at me, call me a bitch or a pussy, and then leave me alone,” Steve said, trying for angry, but he was apparently too sad to muster it and just sounded depressingly resigned.

When Eddie didn’t immediately say anything, Steve met his gaze. The other man’s expression was startling, honestly. It wasn’t the gleeful, delighted expression Eddie had worn outside The Hawk, or any variation of the smiles that seemed to be a permanent feature on his face. He looked… afraid?

At least that would be how Steve would normally identify the wide-eyed, slack-jawed expression. Then again, Steve had determined over the past year of casually noticing Eddie that wide-eyed was more like his default setting.

Eddie finally shut his mouth to clear his throat before shaking his head. “Nah, man. It’s only funny when you’re bleeding,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his worn leather jacket.

“What?” Steve scoffed, sneering up at Eddie.

“I don’t like laughing at people who’re crying,” he elaborated with a shrug. “It feels like punching down, even if they probably deserve it.”

“Gee, how fucking kind of you,” Steve grumbled, tossing his cigarette to the ground and snuffing it with his shoe.

“Seriously, Harrington, what’s this all about?” Eddie asked, and Steve hated how genuine he somehow made his voice. Like he actually cared. “Did Byers do this too?”

“Jonathan?” Steve laughed, shaking his head and chewing the inside of his cheek. “Nah, he was just checking on me. I was like this before he showed up.”

After a few moments of silence between them, Eddie sat down next to him and leaned back, spreading his long arms across the back of the bench. “If it wasn’t Byers, who was it?” he asked before affecting a knowing look. “Was it that dick, Billy? Did losing your title as King Douche of the Keg do this?”

Steve laughed and something fluttered in his chest at Eddie’s pleased expression. “For the record, no, this has nothing to do with that bullshit—” Steve cut himself off, sighing heavily and tipping his head back to look up at the sky again. Nancy’s words came back to him in a rush, about the party being bullshit, him being bullshit, their love being bullshit. Steve shook his head and said, “it doesn’t matter. I did this to myself.”

“You… made yourself cry?”

“Yeah, because I’m just… bullshit, y’know?” Steve said, frowning as he idly tried to identify whatever constellations he could remember.

“Well shit, Harrington. I could’ve told you that years ago and saved you the drunken epiphany,” Eddie teased, lifting a hand to shove Steve’s shoulder lightly and knocking another proper laugh out of him.

“You’re not wrong, Munson,” he murmured with a little smile. Despite that, more tears spilled down his cheeks and he hissed, “fuck, I hate this. I just want to go home.”

“How about you just go home then?” Eddie asked as he draped his arm around the back of the bench again.

Steve sighed, rolling his eyes. “Can’t go home like this,” he replied.

Eddie tilted his head. “And… why not?” he pressed, and Steve jumped when he felt Eddie’s thumb begin to idly stroke the cap of his shoulder.

It was a motion that seemed thoughtless, like it was just what you did when your hand was resting near someone else. It was weird for a guy to be doing that with him, and Steve knew he should probably pull away, but it felt… nice, especially with how upset he was.

“Hello? Earth to Harrington?” Eddie crooned in his ear, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Sorry, what?” Steve said, shaking his head a bit.

“I asked why you can’t go home like this,” Eddie reminded him, an eyebrow raised.

‘Because my dad might still be up.’ “I just can’t, Munson, drop it,” he finally replied, fear and shame twisting in his gut along with his heartbreak. When he returned his gaze to Eddie’s, the expression on his face was a mixture of skepticism and understanding.

Silence stretched between them, Eddie’s thumb switching from rubbing Steve’s shoulder to lightly tapping out a beat. “Want a joint?” Eddie asked suddenly, and Steve blinked at him in confusion.

“I don’t have cash on me, man,” Steve managed to say after a moment when his tipsy brain caught up. “I wasn’t planning on—”

“I’m not trying to sell you anything,” Eddie interrupted, shaking his head. “I was going to smoke one anyway. We can share.”

Steve glared suspiciously. “What’s the catch? There has to be some kind of catch,” he accused. Finally, Eddie’s mean smirk rose to his face.

“Why? Because there’d be one if you were offering?” he asked and Steve reared back a bit at that, properly angry.

“What? No! People who don’t like me generally don’t offer me free shit, Munson,” Steve bit out as he stood up to glare down at him.

Eddie glowered right back up at him, his mean smirk slipping. “I just felt bad for you. Was trying to be nice,” he said sullenly, and Steve felt a little bad for snapping at him. Only a little, though, because pity? From Eddie “The Freak” Munson? That was enough to fire him back up, even if he withered at his own unkind thoughts.

“I don’t need or want your pity, Munson,” he practically growled, hands balling into tight fists at his sides.

“Then why’re you out here crying?” Eddie snapped, his face twisted in a mean scowl.

“In here feeling sorry for yourself, Stephen?” The sound of belt snapping. “I’ll give you a real reason to cry.”

Steve swatted at an imaginary bug to disguise his flinch. Eddie was watching him with those stupid, wide brown eyes that seemed to notice and understand too much. He didn’t want to give him more ammo, more ways to get under his skin.

“Yeah, I was crying out here alone for pity,” Steve spat sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he turned around to leave. He would take his chances calming down in the forest, maybe get eaten by a Demogorgon or something. That would definitely spare him any more embarrassment.

“Harrington, wait.” A hand closed around Steve’s wrist, the grip firm enough to stop him but immediately gentled so Steve could pull away if he wanted. The cool, slender fingers and cold metal of Eddie’s rings against his wrist were grounding, kind of comforting, so Steve didn’t immediately pull away. Again, it struck Steve as something that was probably weird for two guys to be doing, but the physical touch did wonders to settle his head a bit.

“What?” Steve asked, his anger and embarrassment slowly bleeding out of him.

“I offered because I figured it might help you calm down, that’s it,” Eddie said, his big brown eyes looking up at Steve earnestly. “I do actually feel bad about you crying, because I mean it, I don’t like seeing anyone crying. And feeling bad isn’t always pity, y’know?”

Steve thought back to all the times he had insisted Jonathan share his lunches with him over the past year, always making excuses about not liking half of it or lying about eating too much breakfast. It was never out of pity that he did that. He had genuinely cared and wanted to share because he had enough to do so.

All of the anger left Steve at once, leaving him feeling hollow and exhausted. Numb. “I can’t just accept free shit from you, Munson, even if you want to pretend to share it with me,” he said after a few moments with a tired smile, then he shrugged. “That, and I can’t go home high either.”

Eddie watched him unblinkingly for several moments before he nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay. Makes sense,” he conceded, his thumb idly stroking the inside of Steve’s wrist.

The gentle touch sent goosebumps up Steve’s arm, right up the side of his neck and onto his scalp. His eyes flickered down to watch the movement, getting lost in it. There was a weird, warm weight that settled in his gut as he watched that thumb shift, each sweep making that feeling crawl up into his chest. Heat rose to his cheeks and that embarrassed fluttering returned to his chest.

Pulling his wrist away suddenly, Steve cleared his throat. “Thanks, though. For the offer,” he said, the words a bit stilted. “And I guess for getting me to stop crying after all.”

“Oh yeah, I guess I did,” Eddie laughed, and Steve was taken aback by how big his true smile was up close. How bright Eddie’s eyes lit up with it, and how deep the dimples formed in his cheeks. Steve had only ever seen that smile from across the cafeteria, and he had never had it directed at him. “How’d I manage that?”

“Being a dick, mostly,” Steve retorted, his tone teasing. The joke landed just the way he had hoped, keeping that huge grin on Eddie’s face as he laughed. The embarrassed fluttering got stronger in his gut.

“I’ll be a dick to you any day of the week, Harrington. Whenever you need it,” Eddie said, winking up at Steve when he scoffed.

“How generous of you, Munson,” Steve chuckled, rolling his eyes before taking a step backward. “See you around?”

Eddie’s grin settled into a smile. “You know it, Harrington,” he replied, spreading his arms wide along the back of the bench and tilting his head.

Steve glanced down the long line of Eddie’s body before clearing his throat. Waving awkwardly, Steve turned around and quickly left, practically jogging home.

When he got there, the house was dark and silent, his parents already in bed. No doubt he would have to deal with a lecture the next morning, but he would just get up early for a run and hopefully avoid them before he went to school. He paused in his plan, trying to do the mental math to figure out how early he would have to wake up to have time for a run and have enough time to pick Nancy up before school.

Steve abruptly stopped that train of thought; did he even have to pick her up? Should he?

The thought of showing up at her house in the morning to give her a ride to school after what she said was nauseating. He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his composure if he had to be alone with her in his car which would be humiliating at best.

And what if she didn’t even remember what she said?

No, he wouldn’t be able to handle that first thing in the morning. He shouldn’t be expected to handle that first thing in the morning.

A spark of anger finally ignited inside him at that thought.

Steve was fucked up from everything that happened last year, too. Maybe not the same way Nancy was, but his pain mattered, too, didn’t it? And yeah, maybe the way he had been dealing with it wasn’t great, but it wasn’t any worse than how Nancy was, right? It was completely reasonable to try to find some normalcy, to move on, to try to stop seeing a dead girl every time he looked at his pool, or glanced at the woods behind his house. It was reasonable and sane to just try to survive his senior year.

Steve didn’t have to feel bad for not mourning Barb or carrying the guilt of her death the same way as Nancy. He didn’t have to feel bad for being scared of the people who made them sign confidentiality paperwork while armed guards stood over them. He didn’t have to feel bad for just wanting to keep his head down, graduate high school, and get the hell out of that town.

Despite all of those self-righteous thoughts, Steve went to bed feeling sick to his stomach with his guilt and shame, thinking of all the ways he could have done better by Nancy, no matter the cost to his peace of mind.

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Taglist!

@anzelsilver, @mylilplanet, @cosmicanamnesis, @patchworkgargoyle, @xenon-demon, @steddie-there, @strangersteddierthings, @carlyv, @scarcrossdlvrs, @daydreamsandcrashingwaves, @steddierthings, @just-ladyme, @bookbinderbitch, @narwhalnation17, @smalltownclaustrophobia, @ohimamarigold, @sweetcreaturetm, @indigohightide, @changelingbaby, @wrayofmoonshine, @steddieas-shegoes, @ginalinettiofficial, @your-average-dad, @amerikanskaya-krassavitsa

Please consider reblogging and let me know if you want to stay on/join the taglist!!

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie fic #stranger things fic #gerry writes #i could be human fic

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pinkboxess · 3 months

Text

very long essay about ted lasso (the show) jesus fuck

sometimes I think Ted Lasso wanted really badly to subvert expectations and tell a "different type of story" and in many ways it worked fantastically and we got a truly incredible story, but other times it fell flat, because instead of the unexpected feeling refreshing, it just felt flabbergasting.

One of my absolute favourite things about the series is the way it handles forgiveness. The scene when Rebecca confesses to Ted about her scheme, Ted responds in a way that is just not what you would think would happen on any other television show. Typically in a situation like that there would be drama with Ted being angry and hurt and the writers would create a whole plot point about whether they can come back together again. But in Ted Lasso, Ted forgives her immediately, and we get this stunning representation of what it can look like to show someone grace. This surprised me, but it landed as a good surprise. It made me really happy and teary-eyed to see the scene progress the way it did.

But then there are the bits that fall flat because they feel entirely out of left field in a bad way. I'm thinking of Rebecca's Dutch Boat Man encounter-- which, for any real woman who has been alive a day on planet earth, would be utterly terrifying instead of romantic. She's literally with a stranger in his home with no phone or way of contacting anyone and she's dependent on him for dry clothes and food and things, and then he gets her drunk. The show wanted us to interpret that scene as a romcom moment, but I was just really confused the whole time, especially with the "did we..." "no" "but we did" line at the end. I knew that something like a random off-screen sexual assault didn't fit in with the tone of the show, but that's the first thing my brain thought of when he said that line, so it was just confusing to be like "no but that would be so insane to throw in like that and I don't think this show would do that based on what I know about it from prior episodes." I did eventually conclude that that is not what they meant to imply, but it's just an example of how off-kilter the whole thing made me feel.

Dutch Man just feels so random and last-minute. The storyline is incredibly underdeveloped for the person they want to be Rebecca's endgame. Rebecca deserved to end up with someone she knows and trusts and has had more than one interaction with, even if that person isn't Ted. Parachuting in a random guy just to serve a narrative purpose didn't do it for me.

And then, of course, Ted leaving. The scene in the bleachers is so devastating. It's out of character for the version of Ted who has gone through the events of season 2. And I feel pretty confident that the reason the writers did it that way is because they were so committed to wanting Ted Lasso to be a show where the couple doesn't get together and it's not as neat as that. And I do see and understand the reasoning behind that thinking-- it's always good to try to push the needle and make a different kind of art. It's always good to show the messy sides of humanity.

For me, it just landed awfully, because the show provided so much overwhelming textual evidence previously that they are deeply connected soulmates. For Ted to so cruelly dismiss Rebecca, to emotionally stonewall her like that-- it just hurt to see. It felt like it ignored everything that had previously been written about the two of them. And if the message of the show is that Ted has worked through his emotional problems, it sure didn't seem like that in 3x12. The stonewalling and guilt about his role as a father is exactly what season 1 Ted was like. If the writers wanted to show us a transformed Ted in 3x12, they didn't.

The ending of the show didn't make me think "wow that was complex and deep and that's what human life is like sometimes." It just made me think "what the fuck was everything that happened previously even there for if we are throwing it out the window in a contrived and unnatural way now."

Disclaimer that I love Ted Lasso. I'm criticizing something that I love with about 95% of my being, but there's just that other 5% that really dislikes some of the choices the writers made. Good thing we have fanfiction to fill in the gaps and end the story in more satisfying ways.

#ted lasso #rebecca welton #tedbecca #ted lasso x rebecca welton #ted lasso apple tv

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mads-is-tired · 10 months

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Generation Loss Episode Three was Scripted, a short analytical commentary

I don't think Ranboo was entirely in control in episode 3 like we're lead to believe.

I’m obsessed with the set up of “episode three was also scripted by showfall”. Episode one follows a clear plot, there's a few glitches but for the most part you get the vibe that this is what a showfall show usually is. The second episode has more glitches, giving the audience more chances to see “the real gl!Ranboo” and his reactions to the Horrors, before being shoved deeper into the mind control and turning into an NPC in those last bits from the museum onwards. It ends with Hetch breaking through the show and releasing gl!Ranboo. Not completely though, but the audience wouldn’t know that. We are taught to assume from the glitches that when the mask lights are off or flashing, gl!Ranboo is (mostly) in control. So why would we question that now? The lights aren’t even flashing, they’re off. They have a genuine reaction that anyone would have after suddenly becoming aware of themselves in a giant mall. But gl!Ranboo was still under control. Showfall seems to typically control people with accessories, and while that's not always true, the mask is still on him, lights or no lights.

(i'm putting the rest under the cut because this is over 1000 words and I don't want to be a menace to my mutuals who don't follow genloss)

Ranboo stated that every choice gl!Ranboo makes in the finale was the wrong choice. Saving gl!Charlie, steering gl!Charlie away from the axe, trusting Hetch, choosing the wrong code, walking to the wrong exit, the list goes on.

Charlie has been in every episode. There are theories of him being “Showfalls Favourite”, maybe this is true, or maybe he’s a fan favourite? Maybe the show was set up for Ranboo to find him, and feel compelled to release him from the mind control. Having someone with the main character also prompts dialogue, which we wouldn’t have gotten if Ranboo was by themselves.

The fateful words “can you run with that?” causes multiple problems for these characters when Ranboo steers Charlie away from the axe. If he had it, they would have gotten out. To me, the most logical explanation is that Showfall could not allow them to escape before Hetch’s grand plan was executed. On one hand, why couldn’t they just have Charlie not pick it up in the first place? Maybe they did actually release Charlie from being mind controlled (but not Ranboo) so his reactions felt real. Why have the axe in the room at all? I don’t have a good explanation for that. But Ranboo saw the TV monster/security, he saw what it did to the employee and Sneeg, why would you risk not having an axe, even if you thought it might slow you down a bit?

After Hetch “died”, he gave instructions to the button. The ratio turns to cinematic. The cameras are no longer being controlled by drones, it’s like a movie. The camera men are no longer acknowledged. Ranboo goes into an almost trance, stabbing the first employee he sees. While I recall Ranboo mentioning that gl!Ranboo was angry at everything and wanted to avenge his friend (or something along those lines), the cinematography from the view’s POV, and just the ‘trace’ full stop feels like a driving point to the plot. This also brings me to the wires that bleed from the employee. I believe that gl!Ranboo’s actions have been influenced by Showfall up until Hetch’s scene, but it was still Ranboo. Now, as the ratio changes, Showfall are back in control. Their filter is back up. The employee we see mauled by security earlier was bleeding, the one Ranboo stabs is wires. I do enjoy the theory that employees who try to escape or try to help cast members escape are killed and filled with wires, as well as the theory that the longer they work for Showfall, the less human they become. It could be any one of these theories, but its definitely important due to the emphasis put on it.

Charlie’s last moments were spent trying to get Ranboo out, the man was getting gutted and torn to shreds, possibly having wires shoved inside him, and he manages to find the strength to stop screaming in pain and point towards the button. I may be reading into this too much, it's a very plausible scene and it does fall inline with the famous last words trope. I may be reading into all of it too much, as many of these elements could just be creative choices with no real plot behind them, particularly the ratio change.

Another thing I’ve thought of while writing this, security seems to hang around after its killed.

We see it over Sneeg’s body, however it must have been there for a while. Ranboo and Charlie were out in the open in the mall, not too far away, surely Sneeg’s screams would have echoed throughout the space, suggesting that he died before they were close enough for them to hear it. Security was also hovering over Charlie, while the other employees were chasing after Ranboo, which you would assume was security’s job. Both of these scenes goes back to that theory of security (re)wiring and reprogramming the employees and cast members. This brings me hope that Charlie and Sneeg aren’t dead, just reprogrammed. But then this goes back to my other post about Ranboo saving Charlie was the reason he died, and the parallel between Ranboo’s choice and the audience's final choice. What's the better outcome? Becoming/remaining a cast member with Showfall Media for as long as they want you to entertain for them, living under mind control for entire lifetimes, or death, right here, right now. The audience, and Ranboo, decided the latter was a better fate.

As of the last scene with the box, I'm not sure if thats gl!Ranboo in total control or not. According to Ranboo, it is, and Showfall are even putting his memories back. It would make sense he was in control, maybe Showfall were just lucky their 'hero' had so much emotion behind him.

To summarise, there are many details that indicate gl!Ranboo was not in total control in episode three like we are led to believe. We are trusting Hetch just as Ranboo did, and look where that got them.

feel free to add to this in replies, reblogs, tags, whatever! I'd love to hear your thoughts, whether you agree with me or not

#i did it i made the post #its 1088 words btw #i've been coming back to this body of text for like a week adding to it and editing it #i'm not sure if i've made my high school english teachers proud or disappointed #because they'd hate the format and the casual way i write with the questions and such #but i've also practically written an essay of my own free will which is something i've never done before #anyway my genloss brainrot is fading but i still have so many thoughts bouncing around upstairs #actual tags time #generation loss #ranboo #slimecicle #charlie slimecicle #genloss #sneegsnag #gl!slimecicle #gl!ranboo #gl!sneegsnag #gl!charlie #generation loss spoilers #generation loss theory #generation loss finale #generation loss the social experiments #genloss spoilers #ranboolive #mads makes a post #i probably should have added images to this. all well i suppose

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lesbiandanhowell · 2 months

Text

Special episode of Sam reacts!

Sam reacts to: We're All Doomed Movie

Since this is long, little summary of thoughts at the beginning. I didn't love the editing at the beginning, because it felt too fast paced/ too jumpy? But it changed in the second half and seeing the contrast in the editing of it being much slower during the emotional bit, it does make sense. I think the movie for sure did the performance justice and showing the audience interactions added a lot for me.

Also this show is so important on every level and I adore Dan so much for making it and being so proud of it.

- Immediately started looking for myself but I don't think you can see us, cause we sat on the balcony. I have however already spotted @energeticwarrior and @danrifics like less than a minute in lmao

- I love seeing how many of the camera positions I identified correctly.

- I wish they would let shots linger more, the cuts are quite jumpy.

- Oh this brings me back so much. Hearing the audience laugh at certain moments I remember laughing in that moment. I get the same excitement and urge to clap and cheer.

- I love seeing his expressions, cause I didn't get to see those up from the balcony!

- The person with the boob hair sweater in the first row, I love you!

- "Believably sad, lonely and horny. Dan Howell!"

- Okay they somehow really managed to capture the energy of the room which I was worried about. The sound leveling between audience and Dan is really well matched imo.

- He is SO SWEATY what the fuck how stressed was he because the venue really wasn't too hot honestly.

- My attention span is so much worse than when I was there in person holy shit.

- "After the show talking about what a good time you've had" and none of us have been able to shut up about just how much we loved it since 🥹

- The overalls are so bad for Dan, he has like no ass in them.

- Okay admission that @personthattoleratesme made fun of me for: during the YouTube swipe Montage I didn't realize all the other like Crafting, Baking, Shipping Container YouTubers was Dan the first time I saw the show...

- I am SO GLAD Froot Loops Tucan made it and the persons reaction and confidence is incredible.

- Dan's ability to go between talking about wanting to fuxk the Duolingo owl to the very real danger of social media influencing political elections is unparalleled.

- "Human communication. We want to come together with real people. Share stories, move each other emotionally with our words about depression and pensis."

- Imagine Dan Howell calling you hoe...

- Something about Dan calling himself a ditzy bitch gets me so bad every time.

- "Miscellaneous mentally ill nerds of London" best title I have ever been given.

- I liked Sundays madlips better :(( But wasn't faggots Sunday I am so confused now

- The screams for every Phil mention, we love him so much.

- I love Blame Game so much, some of my favourite parts from the whole show because the energy is unmatched. The fact that JKR gets a more severe reaction than Musk is actually so funny.

- Sunday crowd was the best, you can so clearly hear that the majority of people is calling freedom for Dan at the end aww.

- I need more bravery to fuck shit up, to not be so agreeable and complacent and be more disruptive honestly.

- After the calender bit his voice is so shakey and broken, I didn't hear that at all in person but fuck that just broke me.

- Yeah the last few minutes always get me so not much of a reaction to those other than I cried, again.

- What I found interesting was the parts that were left out? Cause I definitely noticed a few moments that didn't make the cut which I find surprising! Moments I noticed were the first mention of him only using two emojis, that's referenced again with the cowboy hat emoji and also he didn't include the iconic "Because time changes everything".

- I am so glad they managed to get All Star because it is simply part of the experience honestly. Nothing hit's quite like sobbing and then being hit with that song.

EDIT:

- I remembered something else I really loved: the music, I really think they choose such a good score, made such good little sound effects and the reaction I had to hearing it all live was amazing.

#wad #we're all doomed #wad premiere #dan howell #sam reacts #dan and phil

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witchthewriter · 7 months

Text

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐅𝐚𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 & 𝐌𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

ESFP

Gryffindor

Neutral Good

Libra Sun, Leo Moon, Cancer Rising

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・You were an outcast.

・Your family wanted nothing to do with you

・All because of your love of magic

・You couldn't satiate the hunger you had for wanting to know more. To understand the world around you.

・Feyre had gotten curious about your cottage in the middle of the woods. Not like the Weaver, but a welcoming home that seemed to buzz with ... magic

・When a certain High Lord problem arose, and even Amren couldn't find the answer - they sent Mor to see if you would help

・What the High Lord needed was in one of your books, but you couldn't find which one.

・So everyday, Mor was sent to help you look amongst the thousands of books that you kept in your library

・You had the ability to think things up and create them. Like illusions but ... real. Except you needed to use all your senses to have the essence of said thing and then, you were able to create it. Or ... duplicate it.

・You couldn't bring anyone back from the dead, or duplicate a human being.

・But magical objects - you just had to hold them, see, feel, smell. And at times ... yes, taste. The more you were able to use all of your senses, the more real it would be.

・That's how you were able to create your library. You literally took it from your favourite library in Prythian.

・When Rhysand gave Mor the order to get your help, she shrugged her shoulders and asked "why me? why not Amren?"

"Because Amren is looking into something else for me" (aka Amren is too mean and scary so I'm sending you, so be as charming as you can be)

・You both bonded over being kicked out of your family. With Mor not wanting to marry, and you being a witch.

・It's how you started to open up to her. Especially when you were forced to spend hours together on missions.

・Mor is a very affectionate person. For example, you'll casually sit on each other's lap when around other people, constantly hold hands, and always have a hello and goodbye kiss.

・She is a BIG grudge holder

・And if someone hurts you, insults you behind your back, or even looks at you the wrong way; she will hate them for eternity.

・In the early part of your professional relationship, Mor invited you to meet Rhysand and Feyre - your High Lord and High Lady.

・You were thrilled and when you walked inside, you saw a flushed Feyre with one earring in.

"Oh, hello!" She said, and invited you in. "I just have to find my other earring ... it was birthday present from Rhys... oh god Mor can you help me find the other?"

"Ugh, I - I can help," you said, stepping forward.

"That's so kind, but you're a guest! There's drinks in this room over here," but you interrupted her and explained your power.

・Holding the earring in your palm, you counted the stones, felt the ridges and different parts of the piece. And with a flash of light, another one had appeared.

"Oh!" Feyre said, her face pure with amazement. "We're definitely keeping you."

・And that's how you became apart of the Inner Circle. Along with the growing relationship with Mor, you were also a prized member. Able to duplicate weapons, food, clothes.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

I Don’t Know What I’m Doing But At Least I’m Alive, Right? (You) x You’re Doing Great, Sweetie! (Mor)

Madly In Love (Mor) x Ridiculously Oblivious (You)

Opposites Attract

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Accidental confession during the heat of the moment/fight

Forced Proximity

Found Family

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Karchata by Folknery

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞 No one under the age of 18 past this point, I bloody mean it.

・Mor is so passionate; there is so much love in her heart that she could explode from it

・So when she's able to touch you, she shows you just how much she loves you

・Leaving warm kisses all over your body, her hands never leaving your exposed flesh.

"I" *kiss* "love" *kiss* "you" *kiss*

・There's also a lot of fucking after an argument, just angry, passionate sex.

・Mor loves adventurous sex - almost getting caught is part of the fun. Even when you're at home, Mor doesn't shut the curtains.

・She's both a dom and a sub. But has a lot more experience than you do. As she's experimented more.

・Likes to leave love bites on your neck, but you feel so embarrassed when other people notice them.

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bbyquokka · 1 year

Note

firstly, i loved your latest work like uGhhhH yes nerd minho and the things he does to me 😩😩😩

but it also had me thinking about something else. quite similar but different altho i hope it isn't out of your comfort zone.

think about minho making love to you under the moonlight. perhaps to the point he isn't even moving, just buried inside while he admires you, taking in every inch of you, kissing every spare patch of skin he can find. (HAJJFKSNDNDD KISSING THE INSIDE OF YOUR WRIST WHILE MAINTAINING EYE CONTACT DHMN!!737;"-)

and suddenly you hear something awfully close to a whimper. looking up, you see minho with the most loving gaze with a tear streaming down his cheek and a soft smile gracing his lips. before you have a chance to question this he asks out of the blue:

"will you marry me, jagiya?"

AIYO I FEEL SO EMBARASSED ABOUT SENDING YOU AN ASK OFF ANON 😭😭😩

moonlight memories :・‧₊

SMUT & FLUFF BELOW CUT – MDNI

warnings: gn!reader, descriptions of intimacy, cockwarming, minho is so sOFT!! words: 0.8k ~ (837)

Minho has been in a very loving mood lately. he's been smothering you in kisses and hugs, pampering you in self care as well as surprising you with gifts such as roses, chocolates and perfume, with the occasional sexy lingerie.

you don't mind, you love being pampered by your cutie. His caring and considerate personality is what made you fall in love with him in the first place – his nerd like looks and tendencies are just a bonus.

“m-min...” you pant softly against his neck. the chilly air caressing your hot skin, the light of the moon gazing down on both.

Minho's arms wrapped around you, his hands caressing your back slowly. you slowly rock your hips on him, soft and gentle moans fan against your lips.

“so beautiful.” Minho whispers, lips ghosting against your own. “im so in love with you. feels like I'm drowning.”

“shut up and kiss me, you soppy fool.” you giggle, cheeks red. he presses his lips against yours gently. the kiss is slow and passionate, filled with such tender love and care. nothing is rushed, you take it slow, escalating when it feels right.

“i-i can't. you feel so good.” Minho whimpers, his hands supporting your back as he gently lowers you onto the tousled picnic blanket, his cock still buried inside you.

he surprised you with a small picnic under the stars. you ate, reminisced and even did some painting before stargazing.

something seemed different about Minho. nothing bad but you get the feeling that he might be nervous about something. what that may be, you have no idea but the past week he has been surprising you with your favourite things and been a little bit skittish.

you look up at the man above you. his round glasses slowly falling down his face, his usual neatly styled hair, now tousled and sticking out in different directions. He's blocking the moon, the light shining directly on him making him look like an angel.

you reach up to stroke his rosy cheeks, your fingertips dancing delicately on his skin before pressing your palm flat against his cheek. at this point, he is stationary, cock still buried deep inside you.

he nuzzles into the palm of your hand, like a kitten. you smile lovingly at him, watching him take your hand in his and planting soft, delicate kisses on your fingers, knuckles, palm before kissing your wrist tenderly, his gaze still on him.

it's suffocating. his love for you is suffocating to you, but in a good way. you've never felt this loved, needed or wanted by another person before. Minho is so smitten for you that he would do anything and everything for you - no matter how bizarre it sounded.

you're his everything, his universe. you make him feel alive! he never thought he could love or be loved by another human as much as you – yet here he is, making love to you under the moonlight.

he eyes travel down your features. he takes in every curve, scar and stretch mark you have, loving how textured and real you are.

he feathers kisses from your wrist up to your arm before kissing every inch of your face. temple, eyes, forehead, cheeks – wherever his lips landed, he kisses

“love you. I love you so much, y/n.” his heart pounding, he feels sick and dizzy on love.

“i love you too, lino.” you softly speak, kissing his cheek gently. sparks erupt in his stomach, his skin burning up.

“no.. I really, really love you.” he whimpers softly before leaning up. you furrow your brows at the whimper, thinking something was wrong with him but you gaze softens, your own eyes welling up with tears as you look at your love sick boyfriend.

“lino...” you giggle softly, wiping away the tear that was suddenly falling down his cheeks.

“i want you for life, y/n.” his face soft, his eyes hold a loving gaze for you, sparkling and glossy.

“whats wro–”

“marry me.” Minho whispers. you blink, heart speeding up at his sudden proposal.

“mi–”

“marry me y/n. I want to be yours for life, to have you for eternity. I'm so drunk on love it's insane. I cant explain this feeling but it feels like my heart is going to explode from my chest.” he gently takes your hand, placing it in his chest where his heart is “see?”

he's right. you feel his heart beating fast, skipping beats underneath your finger tips. you bite you lip gently, tears falling from your eyes.

“minho, i– of course I will marry you, you soppy fool!” Minho's grin spreads across his face, bunny teeth in display. his takes your hand, kissing your ring finger before leaning over you, forearms resting beside your head.

his hips start moving slowly, a soft moan fans against his lips.

“i cannot wait to marry you, y/n. I love you so so much.”

“you're a love drunk kitten, Lee Minho.”

“wouldn't want it any other way.”

→ note: ahshwudb! I'm glad you loved my latest work! nerd Minho has been playing on my mind alot! 😩 this had me kicking my feet 🥹 also, don't be embrassed! im friendly, shy but friendly ‹3 did i get carried away with this? yes,,,

#strayingawayy #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz hard hours #skz hard thoughts #stray kids hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #lee minho #lee minho smut #lee minho x you #lee minho x reader #lee know #lee know smut #lee know x you #lee know x reader #skz x you #stray kids x you #skz x reader #stray kids x reader

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ellatoone7 · 1 year

Text

Ibiza (Ella Toone x Reader)

When Ella had first suggested a holiday to Ibiza you were skeptical, you had celebrated so much the past few days you didn't know if it was a good idea to go to a different country and get drunk all over again.

You went to Ibiza, Ella made sure it was the best holiday if your entire life and god it was. You woke up next to your favourite girl, preferably naked if it was an extremely good night then just relaxed in the sun for hours.

Leah had also came and that was just the icing on the cake, you embraced your best friend for what felt like hours when you saw her first.

Calvin Harris was playing one of the nights and the girls got VIP tickets, you were squashed in between your girlfriend and your best friend.

Afterwards you decided to go to a club, not wanting the night to end. Plus you knew it was one of the last nights the girls could let loose before their respective seasons started.

You and Leah chatted over the loud music as Ella and Alessia talked up at the bar waiting for their drinks. You caught Ella's eye and she gave you a small wink making butterflies erupt in your stomach.

"You are so sickeningly in love with each other." You were pulled out of your trance when you best friend spoke up. You scoffed and nudged her arm, "Oh, yeah? Cause I didn't have to watch you and Jordan eye fuck each other across the room for years!”

Leah's face heats up immediately and you giggle as she punches your shoulder playfully. You both chat about your respective partners, you knew Leah was gutted her girlfriend had to miss out but as usual put on a brave face.

You respected Leah so much, not only had she captained her country to a European trophy but also remained calm, cool and collected and never once let the pressure get to her.

You knew the girls adored her, Ella looked up to her not that she would ever admit it. You couldn't be prouder to call her your best friend and you hoped she knew that.

A warm arm slips around your waist as Ella slides into the booth next to you, placing your favourite drink in front of you. You thank her with a peck on her cheek while her fellow teammates gag.

Ella just shrugs too happy to even think about telling them off, she has a European medal hanging around her neck and her favourite human being wrapped up in her arms.

After a few drinks you drag Ella to the dance floor, she puts up a fight but eventually caved in when you pull your puppy eyes, Leah makes fun of her for being whipped and she couldn't even deny it.

You turned around as her arms snaked around your stomach, she pushed her body as close as it could possibly be, you cup her face from behind as she rests her chin on your shoulder.

"You are the most gorgeous person here, you know." Her Manchester accent thick as she whispers in your ear, you melt into her as she places sloppy kisses against your neck.

The vibe suddenly changes as a slow song comes on, Ella spun you around so you were facing her. You placed your arms around her shoulders as she held your hips.

You smile gently as you watch the medal she hasn't taken off once sway along with her, you gently hold the medal swiping a thumb over the gold as she watches you.

"I'm so proud of you, El." Ella holds you tighter and pulls you closer as she leans her forehead against yours, her heart overwhelmingly full with so much love she's scared it might burst right there in her chest.

"It's all for you, everything I've done since the day we met has been for you." Ella whispers softly as she pushes a stray piece of hair from your face behind your ear. One of your hands wrap around her bicep making sure she was real.

You lean your head against her shoulder as she kisses your temple, Ella gently sway the two of you for a few more minutes. "I've never felt safer in your arms." Ella's grip tightens around you as you lean back to kiss her gently.

"I can't believe I let a Man United player steal my heart, younger me would be so disappointed." Ella laughs loudly kissing your face all over as you squirm in her arms.

"A diehard Arsenal fan and a diehard Man United fan, huh? Who would've thought?" You chuckle kissing her neck sweetly until she spins you around once more quickly pulling you back into her embrace for a searing kiss.

"I love you, El." The pure adoration in her eyes nearly knock you out as she stares at you still gently swaying, out of the corner of your eye you could see Leah and Alessia looking over with soft smiles on their face while snapping pictures of the two of you.

"I love you, always have and always will." You tuck your face into her neck as she chuckles at the blush on your cheeks.

You stay on the dance floor in the club slowly swaying even while upbeat songs blast through the speakers. It would always be just you and Ella.

#ella toone #forever love our future DJ in Ibiza #ella toone imagines #ella toone imagine #ella toone x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #muwfc x reader #woso imagines #engwnt x reader #woso #muwfc

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deathbxnny · 11 months

Text

☆《Returning home to you.》☆

-----♡

A/N: Alright so, I'm noticing, that I'm getting really burnt out with writing for hsr recently and to keep my mental health from tanking completely, I've decided to write something for my current Chainsaw man obsession as a small break! I hope you guys will like it!<33

Featured characters: Aki, Denji, Power, Makima

Content: Fluff, established relationship, some angst because it's csm, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

-----♡

》Aki Hayakawa

For Aki, the best time of the day, is him finally being able to come home to you. He never thought that he'd ever find a s/o to return to after a long day of work, as he was always so hellbent on revenge and could die at any given moment due to his occupation. And yet, he still found you, the only person that made living still worth a damn on his hardest days.

You take care of him so well too. You always greet Aki at the door, happily helping him out of his jacket, as you tell him about the mundane things you've done that day. You give him a sense of normalcy he always secretly craved to have deep down. He is starved for attention and knows he's lucky to have you.

The moment he steps through the front door and sees you, he can leave the evil truth of the world behind, until his next shift inevitably begins. Sure, not everything always goes as smoothly and he knows, that this won't last forever. But in your arms, he can pretend that it will.

-----♡

》Denji

He sometimes thinks that he's dreaming, whenever he comes home to you. He still can't believe, that he actually achieved everything he always wanted to. He has a pretty s/o, good food and a seemingly better getting life! It's all he wanted and more! So whenever he does come home, he immideatly pulls you into a hug, happily muttering to himself about how proud he is.

He loves it, when you cook food for him. He doesn't care what it is or if it's good. Denji doesn't discriminate and whatever you cook is certainly much better than whatever he was used to. He'll practically praise everything you do for him. As a thank you, he'll get you flowers or gifts. Even if they aren't the best, you still know that he appreciates you greatly.

To him, you are one the first people that gave him the sense of a home. He was always only able to imagine how it must've felt like, but now that he has it for real, he won't let you go. He can't let you go. Not when you make him feel like a loved human for once.

-----♡

》Power

It's a miracle, that she even properly finds her way home, after a long day at work. And when does, she's usually muddy or covered with blood, which results in her being forced into a bath, before she dirties the floor you just cleaned. Meowy often watches you struggle with Power, as she calls out for the cats help.

You are her favourite human and should be proud that you are. She tells you so everyday and expects you to thank her, which also earns her a deadpan and a shake of your head. But as much as she acts superior to you, she actually does appreciate everything you do for her. Especially the safe home you provide for her and her cat.

She often therefore thanks you in unconventional ways, like bringing you dead birds or wild flowers she found... she's trying, I promise. But her presence is surely a thank you enough too, right?

-----♡

》Makima

Makima comes home calmly and seemingly stress-free. She often always has something to give you and her dogs as well. Pretty flowers for you and treats for them. She always greets you all cheerfully, before just simply demanding hugs and affection from you.

She clinges onto you at home, thanking you for your loyalty and being so good for her, before she helps you out with some house chores. She loves it, when you do domestic things together, as she doesn't really have the need to rest after work.

She never speaks of work with you and you never ask either. She doesn't let any of her "co-workers" know that she has a partner anyways, as you are her little secret. You are a separate part of her life as a devil hunter and the only sense of normalcy she has outside of it. It's why she appreciates you so much and makes sure you always know that, even after she had a long and tiring day.

-----♡

A/N: So this is my first time writing for csm characters and I hope it's okay! It honestly helped me feel alot better too!<33

Csm requests are also appreciated!<33

#chainsaw man #chainsaw man x reader #csm x reader #csm aki #csm aki x reader #csm denji #csm denji x reader #csm makima #csm makima x reader #csm power #csm power x reader #csm #chainsaw man fanfiction

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devoted-domme · 2 months

Note

How did you know your into being dominant ? Anything particular you like in a sub ?

So, this became a bit longer than I had anticipated, so my reply to both questions will be under a cut!

For your first question: Honestly, I think I have known from a very young age, even before puberty.

I’ve always felt drawn to stories about deep, meaningful relationships based on some sort of power imbalance and extreme devotion, like servants and knights who would do anything for their master or king. Basically, any character who was naturally submissive towards an authority figure and who was deeply devoted to them.

Scenes in which someone knelt in front of their master were my favourites and I’d re-read them over and over again. It wasn’t sexually motivated since I was too young for that, and yet something about these types of scenes always made my heart race.

Then during puberty, I discovered that I was attracted to both men and women but I don’t enjoy being penetrated and never liked the expectations that society held for women in straight relationships. I never wanted to be the object of someone’s desires, I wanted to be the active party who has agency and be the person who leads and initiates. I never liked the thought of me lying there and having someone else shower me with affection, I wanted to be the person in control and do these things to someone else and make sure they feel good.

Because of this, I thought I was fully lesbian for a long time, even though I do find men attractive. But I never thought it would be possible to be a man without all of the associated gender roles and the way straight sex was framed in general was such a turn-off, with the language people use and all the gendered expectations.

I only ever dated women because it was easier to escape those expectations and easier to explain what being a stone top means. I never believed men would be interested in getting penetrated and being submissive so I stuck to female partners who enjoyed it.

And of course, I’m not saying you can’t be dominant and enjoy being penetrated, it’s just something that I personally don’t want and it’s really hard to escape that expectation if you try dating in straight circles.

Seeking out online spaces for femdom (and in particular, Tumblr as it tends to be less focused on straight relationships and rigid gender roles, in general) really helped me strengthen my own understanding of my sexuality.

Now, onto your second question:

Truthfully, I am very picky when it comes to choosing a sub since I’m not really interested in just casual play so my sub would also be my romantic partner (I’m not talking about answering a spicy ask/message here and there, I’m very open to that, just anything beyond that is purely reserved for my romantic partner).

Generally, I would be looking for a “naturally submissive” sub, not just someone who is into it as a kink. That doesn’t mean I’m looking for a 24/7 type of deal at all, I just mean that I want a sub who is just that – submissive. They want me to actually be in charge in the bedroom and are happy to do what I want to do instead of only wanting a “kink dispenser” who caters to their every wish.

It’s a bit ironic, considering that my preferred domming style is very focused on the sub and their pleasure but at the same time I don’t want to be told what to do. It’s fine to give suggestions, they should absolutely have kinks they love and firm limits they don’t want to cross but it gets annoying when I feel like they want to “direct” the scene.

It’s also very important to me that my sub sees me as an actual real-life human being who is flawed, just like everyone else. I’m not some mysterious goddess who is always “on” and in domme mode 24/7. I’m often quite dorky and awkward and they need to be able to understand that and understand that real life isn’t fantasy and people don’t behave like they do in whatever pornography they have seen or erotica they have read.

I need to get the impression that I actually matter to them as a person, beyond the utility I can offer to them (and of course, I will do them the same courtesy!).

Needless to say, the same things apply here as in any other relationship: good communication, the willingness to listen and speak up if there are problems, mutual respect (especially with regards to boundaries) and trust, willingness to compromise, a strong sense of self and independence, loyalty, empathy, dependability, an overall emotional connection and so on.

(And of course, what I have listed here are things that I would also strive to give back in return in a relationship!)

Naturally, we should also have compatible kinks and a similar idea of what our D/s dynamic should look like and my sub should have a strong idea of their limits (saying they have “no limits” is a red flag, for sure!). I need to be able to trust them to actually use their safeword if they need to (just as they need to trust me to also then stop the scene if they do and not be mad at them for using their safeword).

Having standards is also a green flag – if I get the impression that they are actually picky about who gets to dom(me) them it already helps to make me feel more at ease and like I’m actually being treated like a person instead of just their kink wish fulfillment.

Of course, like anyone else, physical attraction plays a strong role in who I want to date/take as a sub, but I am attracted to a lot of different "types" and I do think how someone carries themselves and their general mannerisms and personality play a huge role in my attraction to them as well.

Also, I think as someone whose love language is Acts of Service and who enjoys taking care of my partners, it’s easy to attract subs who genuinely believe I can/will “fix” them when the truth is: no one can fix you but yourself. Of course, it is always easier to improve yourself when you have the support of someone else but the drive to change needs to come from within.

So, I need my sub to be an actual adult, capable of living their day-to-day life. That doesn’t mean they’re not allowed to struggle with things (I do as well), just that they need to be overall mature and independent.

Now, I do think it's fun to give subs incentives to improve their lives, to give them little tasks and rewards and I think it can be a good way to help them keep good habits, but this only really works to a small extent and they still need to be motivated to change by themselves.

Additionally, a potential sub would need to not be into any kinks that are misogynistic, homophobic or racist like s/issies and c/uckolding (it shouldn't be degrading to be penetrated or to wear feminine clothing or to have sex with black men, unless you actually believe being a woman or being black or gay is inherently more degrading than being a white straight man).

For male subs, they need to be feminist allies and be actively working on undoing toxic masculinity and be respectful to women in general, not just the ones they’re attracted to and not just for however long they need to get into a woman’s pants. I think a lot of male subs think just because they’re “submissive” they’re somehow above misogyny when truthfully, I have experienced more sexism from male subs than I have from any of the regular blokes in my life.

In terms of overall personality, I’m hugely attracted to people who are just genuinely good people – kind and helpful. I adore gentle people and even those who are a bit shy. I don’t need someone to be the smartest person or the most confident or the funniest, just try to be the kindest version of yourself you can be.

I think that’s all! Sorry for the long rambling response but I really enjoyed getting all my thoughts out. I hope some of this is still useful to you (or anyone else who happens to be reading this!).

#bd/sm discussion #bd/sm kink #fdom #gentle fdom #gentle femdxm #wlw bd/sm #female dom #gentle dom #mine #ask

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lollytea · 3 months

Note

Given that Hunter was introduced to anime in the Human Realm (canon), what do you think some of his favourites would be? Any he wouldn't like as much?

Astro Boy

Voltron Defender of the Universe (the 80s one. He eats it up. Its his cocomelon)

Mobile Suit Gundam Wing

Gus also enjoys Sci-fi type stuff so this is what they watch together <333

Sailor Moon/Cardcaptor Sakura/Whatever other cute wholesome power of friendship magical girl animes that you can think of. I just believe he loves Magical Girls. That is a headcanon that is attached to my brain like a leech.

Pokemon. He loves cute little creechurs, they're silly and they remind him of palismen <33

I imagine that he really enjoys sports anime. Especially the ones with intense homoerotic friendships. He loves Haikyu and Free, god bless. If you dare to open your mouth during Yuri on Ice, he will kill you.

As a guy who is a bit awkward, passionate about his interests, a little bit on the gnc side, and into making clothes, I think he'd like Princess Jellyfish.

I think when it comes to anime he WOULDN'T like, I think maybe....slice of life shojo high school stuff. Ones that are deeply rooted in experiences that Hunter cannot connect to. Not that he hates that stuff. He just struggles to relate. Also, as introspective, sensitive and emotionally mature as I imagine Hunter to be, I also think that his attention span cannot be held by a show that focuses on feelings/romance alone. Bro is like "I want SPACESHIPS!! I want SPORT!!! I want POKEMON!!!" There's gotta be some exciting angle to keep him entertained.

Something I'm a little unsure of is what Hunter's relationship is with gore/horror/edgy type stuff. Because we know he was a fan of Ruler's Reach, which was written by an edgelord 8 year old and was packed with gratuitous violence. Considering he was not only a teenage boy (who tend to gravitate towards depictions violence because of societal influence) but a child soldier who was unnervingly desensitized to brutality, it does make a lot of sense. Ruler's Reach also seemed to be something of a masculine power fantasy written by one boy who felt small and powerless in his own life, which connected with a boy who felt similarly. King wanted to be feared, Hunter wanted to be respected.

However, this was during the time that Hunter was trapped in a very bleak situation, one that he didn't even fully understand was bleak. And he coped by hyperfixating on a book that normalized the cruelty.

But what I wonder is, would he still feel the same way about that book now, after everything? He's been woken up to how horrific his life was until this point. He's aware of the atrocities and he's deeply uncomfortable with all of it. Things are drastically different now. Hunter is drastically different.

Personally, I think Ruler's Reach was something that comforted him when he needed it. But as he changes as a person, its just not his taste anymore.

Hunter can certainly stomach gore and violence. He's seen more disturbing sights than anything an anime can show him. But I don't think he actively seeks it out. I imagine that he prefers stuff that's lighthearted. Not that he doesn't enjoy tension/excitement/high stakes. Just not the kind of stuff that will make him extremely upset.

Like Fullmetal Alchemist for example. Absolutely amazing anime, but not something Hunter would enjoy sitting through. It's good to have fiction that makes you feel something deep in your core, the way FMA does to people. But Hunter has experienced enough real life trauma and existential horror for a lifetime. He's felt enough!!! He doesn't need to see that weird fucking dog!!!!! Leave him alone!!!!!

So ya in summary, I think he likes fun, semi-lighthearted stuff. But he doesn't really wanna watch anything that's gonna make him sit in the shower for over an hour and rethink everything. He is already mentally exhausted. He once learned made of a dead guy's bones, that's enough for him.

#i know we were just meant to talk about anime #lots of thoughts here on WHY hunter likes rulers reach #i just have a lot of them

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elen-aranel · 1 year

Text

Hold My Hand

For: @youvebeenlivingfictional Winter Writing Prompt 14, Mistletoe / Hands / Fake Dating Pairing: Captain Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: None! Reader has mild anxiety a couple of times WC: 6k Rating: Teen Notes: I haven't felt like I've had time for anything I want to do recently, least of all writing, but today's prompt really spoke to me, so here we are! <3 Summary: “We don’t like to make a big thing of it, but yes. We’re getting married when we get back to Earth. We’re only waiting so we can be with our families.”

The first time, you aren’t expecting it.

An alien sun is shining down on you as you sit cross legged on the ground in the Syndarch medicine garden. You breathe in a mix of something herbal and something sweet; there are insects buzzing around, trilling birdsong in the distance, and the voices of your fellow officers and your Syndarch hosts. But all of those are background details; you’re hunched over your tricorder, scanning a tiny green cactus-like plant poking up between two paving stones which is producing a range of interesting-looking alkaloids. You are wondering whether the plant is just a weed, or if it had been cultivated in the past and has somehow managed to survive where it is, when a warm hand grasps yours and hauls you up.

“—is the lieutenant here.” Captain Pike is gazing at you with some kind of sappy, affectionate expression on his face, clearly put on, and you replay the last few seconds of conversation you overheard in your head.

You smile back. Ultra sappy.

“We don’t like to make a big thing of it, but yes. We’re getting married when we get back to Earth. We’re only waiting so we can be with our families.”

The Syndarch Chancellor studies you as Pike raises your hand, gently kissing the back of it. And… you don’t have to fake your pleased little shiver. Which is something you’ll have to worry about later. For now, you try to project that sense of togetherness that established couples you’ve known have had. Like Admiral April and his wife, Sarah.

The Chancellor shrugs, blue slitted eyes suddenly brightening up. “Perhaps, after all, a captain isn’t quite… right for my daughter. You must have to travel a lot. But others may be… more settled? If Starfleet establishes a permanent presence here?”

You glance around as the captain makes some vague reply. You see a question in Spock’s raised eyebrow, and Una is studiously ignoring you; you’d bet she’s working hard to stifle a laugh. You dread to think what they’ll say when you get back to the ship.

“Thanks for the save there, Lieutenant,” Pike says as you step off the transporter platform, falling into step with you as you go through the doors. “I would not want that chancellor as a father-in-law. I owe you— What’s your favourite meal? You’re invited to dinner tonight. You too,” he adds, turning, nodding to Spock and Una. “Good work down there.”

“You don’t owe me. I mean, I’m not stupid, I’m not going to say no to your cooking, but I don’t think I’d have gotten to talk to that botanist so quickly if our host didn’t think we were engaged.”

“I found the ease with which you dissembled noteworthy, Lieutenant,” Spock says. “I know that humans are adept at lying, but you did not hesitate when the captain said you were to be married, even though you didn’t appear to have been paying any attention to him and the chancellor.”

“I was in my high school drama club, sir. I know how to put on a performance.”

You don’t tell him that wishing it were true makes it easier.

The next time is planned.

“Jentiri culture is complex, and the Transit Ceremony has a lot of rules, one of which is that each leader that takes part must be accompanied by their consort.” Pike stares up at you from his desk, and you know you could get lost in those blue eyes, but no. Whatever happens, this isn’t real.

“Why not just use Commander Chin-Riley, Sir?”

“Number one... she said no.” He quirks a rueful smile. “Her exact words were, ’I could better serve you if I didn’t have to act as some sort of decoration.’ But don’t worry,” he adds, reading your dubious expression. “You don’t have to do anything difficult. You just have to hand over our offering, and then enjoy the spectacle. I’m told it’s quite beautiful, and few outsiders get to see it. I’ll owe you a meal?”

“In that case, it’s a yes. Not for the Transit, though.” You grin. “For the food.”

Astrophysics is not your forte, but even so you know how incredibly rare this is: an M class planet with a stable orbit that takes it between two stars.

You are on the flat top of a hill that has been cut into wide terraces, and to the left and right, on the horizon, are the suns, like sunset and sunrise. The sky fades from orange to pink to deep purple and back, but it is lit with hundreds of shooting stars and the occasional bright flare of an aurora.

There are thousands of Jentiri, mostly on the lower levels of the hill, from all six inhabited planets in their system. This planet was traditionally neutral ground between all of them, and although now they have one common hierarchy, their old traditions remain.

You have done your part, giving Starfleet’s offering – an ornate carved wooden box – to the Third King, so now you get to relax and enjoy the spectacle for a while, while the captain and first officer negotiate on Starfleet’s behalf.

“So, tell me more about Captain Pike. How did you meet? How long have you been together? What’s he like?”

Emyn, the consort of the First Queen, leader of Jentiri Prime, relaxes back on her cushion. You never thought you’d be a diplomat, but it’s impressive to see a good one at work. All the consorts, but Emyn especially have made an effort to make you feel included in the group; making sure the silky cushions were comfortable for you, offering you sweet delicacies from each of their planets, and talking, about their partners, about Jentiri, and about your experiences in Starfleet.

You can’t help but feel relaxed around them, which you know is the point. If you think of yourself as one of them, you’ll be candid.

“Captain Pike – Chris – and I met when I transferred to the Enterprise, on stardate… um… well. It was a while ago now. We got together on—on shore leave, a year or so later? It was very romantic, he cooked dinner for me in a cabin by a lake…” You smile at your made-up story; it would be lovely if it had been real. “And Chris is…” you smile, relaxed. You can be completely honest here. “He’s genuine. He’s principled. He isn’t naive – you don’t get to be a captain if you are – but he’s kind, generous. Willing to see the best in people. To do whatever it takes for his crew. That’s why I… why we…”

“Of course,” Emyn returns your smile. “My Adrimyn is the same way. She puts all of Jentiri first. You’re lucky to be consort of such a man.”

You nod. “Yes, I am.”

“I’m glad that it went so well for you, with the consorts. But you two need a legend,” Una says, gesturing with a forkful of Pike’s macaroni cheese as you debrief that evening.

“A legend? Sir this is amazing. Truly,” you add as you take a bite yourself. It’s a delicious balance of creaminess with just the right amount of sharp cheese flavour, and it’s complemented perfectly by the white wine Pike poured you.

“We’re off the clock. Call me Chris. And a legend is a back story. How we met, milestones, things like that. We got away with it today because no one was asking me about our ’relationship’, but if we ever did this again, we may need to get our stories straight.”

“We’re not going to do this again though, right?”

“What, you didn’t enjoy the Transit?”

“I did, it was—it was beautiful. But I’m a biologist. I still have a crate of samples to catalogue from my last mission. And you know the what the chief science officer is like…”

But of course, it does happen again. And this time you can’t even complain.

You’re in the ready room by the big screen, senior officers around the conference table, looks of concern on their faces.

“Starfleet has suspected that Eryran III is a hub for the illegal animal trade for a while now; there have even been reports of a gormagander being held in orbit. We have jurisdiction, in theory, but we’ve never been able to get any evidence; as soon as a starship is scheduled to go through the system, they move everything deep undercover. But a pair of critically endangered Lysisian golden bears have been stolen from the sanctuary at Lysis Alpha.”

You tap a control, and an image of two small bears appear on the screen. They have zebra-like stripes of gold on dark brown fur, and big brown eyes edged in gold.

“They’re difficult to distinguish from other, non-endangered species unless you’re an expert. The pattern of the stripes, the morphology—” you adjust the display, showing the golden bears alongside the more common Lysisian brown bear, although you know the others won’t see the details you see, in the way the stripes branch, in the shape of the ears relative to the eyes relative to the jaw.

“The Enterprise is close – only a few hours away normally, or a couple at high warp. I could take a shuttle to Eryran IV,” you change the screen to show a schematic of the Eryran system, “which is currently on the far side of their stars. Sensors from Eryran III wouldn’t be able to detect the low-powered Starfleet signature, and I can take a civilian transport from there. If I find the bears, I can signal the Enterprise to secure them. But it has to be me; I’m the only one here who can identify them.”

Pike frowns. “It’s risky. The Eryran system... Eryran III is a pleasure planet, isn’t it? Like Risa?”

“Yes, Sir, but probably more like Casperia Prime. Not as hedonistic as Risa— it’s the kind of place to see and be seen.”

“Hmm. You may stick out alone. And with respect, if it gets to be a fight and you’re by yourself, we wouldn’t be able to get there fast enough to give you backup.” He shakes his head.

“Sir, I don’t enjoy the risks, but an ecosystem is at stake. I—”

“Hold your horses. It’s not ’no’. It’s ‘I’m coming with you.’”

“Damn. There really is a space whale. Look, darling— over there.”

You look past him out the viewport of the transport, trying to control your reaction to the term of endearment. You didn’t realise hearing him call you darling would make you feel all melty inside, even if only for a moment. Even if you know it isn’t real.

The gormagander is there, buoys floating round it which must be forcefield emitters to keep it contained. But at least it looks healthy.

“Wow. I’ve only ever seen holos of them before. They’re so rare.” You raise your brows, just a touch, and Pike nods fractionally. Whatever happens, the Enterprise will have to come for this creature.

Pike leaves you in the lobby of the hotel you booked to make you seem like real tourists, but it’s too nice out to stay indoors. You love space, but you always relish sunlight on your face. Or sunslight, in this case. There are something like palm trees outside, but with blue leaves, and the botanist part of you is wishing you could scan them and find out what specific chlorophyll molecule is in them, when the door opens.

If you weren’t ready to be called darling, you definitely weren’t ready for the sight of Pike stepping out into the street. He’s ditched the sweatshirt he was wearing on the transport and his navy-blue Henley is tight. You knew he must work out to fill his uniform in the way he does, but it’s one thing to know it, and another to see it.

His smile as he catches sight of you is just a little knowing, like he’s seen you looking, and you focus on adjusting your shoulder bag – it looks innocent, but it was shielded by engineering to hide your all your equipment – while you get control of yourself.

“I’ve taken our things up to the room. You ready to go?” He holds out his hand, and you smile up at him as you take it. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but perhaps you see a little admiration in his eyes, too.

It’s a short walk from the hotel along a wide boulevard, lined with trees and teeming with other tourists, to the transport hub. You’re at the zoo in no time.

You try not to hold your breath as your bag goes through the beefy looking security scanner – larger than you would expect for a place like this, and another sign that something illegal may be happening. But the bored looking security guard hands it back to you, and you’re in.

The zoo is large and spacious, and not crowded, which you’re glad about. It has animals from all over the quadrant, and you and Pike— you and Chris wander around, occasionally stopping to take photos of the animals, and even a selfie or two. For appearances’ sake.

There are some species you recognise from Earth, like snow leopards, and a kangaroo carrying a joey in her pouch. You spend too long admiring the horses: a palomino stallion, and a chestnut mare Chris says reminds him of his horse Mary Lou. You manage to drag him away before he has a chance to ask about riding them.

There are a lot of rare creatures, most of which you’ve never seen in person before, like an Aldebran serpent which is a little difficult to see in the sunlight, and even a Drayjin from Dakala. Rare, but legal.

But even though all the animals seem to be reasonably well cared for, like the gormagander in orbit, the more you see – sometimes an empty pen, sometimes animals in an enclosure that looks too new, too pristine, a couple more security guards wandering around than should really be needed – the more you think there really is something going on under the surface.

“I think that’s a Vulcan sehlat. Don’t you have a friend who had one of those as a pet?” You point at the brown bear-like animal, and Chris quirks an amused half-smile at you.

“Yeah, he had it as a kid. Says they’re very loyal. Though I think I’ll stick with horses,” he adds as the sehlat yawns, exposing those six-inch-long fangs.

“Mmm, I don’t think I’ll be adopting one soon. But maybe one of these bears? They’re super cute.” You work to try to keep the anxiety out of your voice as you approach the Lysisian bears. Now you’re here, the tension is getting to you. Your heart rate speeds up as you begin to feel a little lightheaded. Your stomach is churning.

But Chris picks up on it, of course. “You’re okay,” he murmurs, just for you. “Breathe through it.”

You take a breath, slow, and focus. You are Starfleet. You can get this done.

You look into the enclosure. You can’t see the forcefield but you’re close enough to feel the electric prickle from the generators, which along with a ditch protect you from the animals, and, in theory, the animals from you.

The first bear is slowly climbing a tree trunk, and you get a good view of its markings. A brown bear, not a golden bear. The second one is sitting on the ground, rummaging in the ground cover. You look at the head, and no. Also not a golden bear.

But further along, there is one bear alone, and another on the ground with two cubs. And—

“Look at these cubs, Chris, they’re adorable. I have to get a holo.” You turn to face him, rummaging in your bag. There’s no one else within a few metres of you, but there is an Andorian family nearby looking at some Terran giant pandas. Chris has his back to the nearest security camera, and you pass him the EMP generator, while you get the holo cam out. Hopefully the zoo’s sensors will just read an error in the power grid, but you know you’ll only have a minute or so after he activates it.

When you went into this you had been expecting two bears. But you can deal with four.

You turn back with the camera out, and snap a couple of quick holos. You switch it off, and Chris activates the EMP.

You immediately feel that prickle disappear, and you get out your blow pipe and a handful of tiny trackers so the Enterprise’s sensors can find the bears. You dart the lone bear, glad that unlike when you did this with anaesthetic at the academy it doesn’t matter where you hit. You go for cubs next; you can hear an alarm as you hit the first one you hit cleanly, but the other you only graze. You hit it with your second go but not before it squeaks in pain. The closer parent is on the move immediately, and you can hear running in the distance, but you narrow your eyes and hit perfectly.

“We’re good,” you mutter to Chris, and he gets an arm around you, hustling you along while you re-pack your bag. You feel the electricity in the air as the power is restored.

“Remember when we saw the giant pandas in that bamboo forest? In China?”

A little Andorian girl gazes up at you as you approach, which was Chris’s plan – you couldn’t run, because that would be suspicious, but if you could look like you were associated with another group for long enough…

“That was such an amazing hike. I still can’t believe that they were just there. Eating bamboo in that little clearing.” You feel your heart rate rise again as security runs past, but not as badly this time.

“Yeah, a special memory.” Chris tightens his arm around you a little as you look at the pandas. “I think it’s the Maravel dragon’s feeding time soon. You want to go take a look?”

The two hours you spend waiting for the Enterprise are two of the longest of your life. But you’re lucky – a better security operation would have been on to you, but the operatives at the zoo seem to have grown complacent, and you suspect that you just missed some even more valuable animals. Either way, you’re glad that you’re able to use an EMP again to disrupt their shields long enough for the Enterprise to beam the golden bears aboard.

“Thank you for today,” you say, as you hand your report in to Pike when you’re back on the ship. “I find it easier to be brave when the people around me are more… nervous… than I am, I guess. Those bears and that gormagander needed you. I needed you. I couldn’t have saved them alone.”

“Given their lax security, you would have found a way. But we couldn’t have anticipated that.” He looks up, catching your eye.

“I’m glad I was there for you.”

The moment holds, but then he smiles, wide and open. “Now we can add pandas to our legend for real.”

After that... it isn’t something that happens frequently. But when a delegate is paying Chris too much attention at a reception aboard the Enterprise, stopping him doing his work, he catches your eye from across the mess hall, and you find your way there to his side, and you stay too close to just be a colleague. When you’re at a party a colony is throwing after your team decontaminated their water supply, and one of the colonists is drunk and won’t leave you alone… You can stand up for yourself, but you don’t want to turn things into an incident, and it’s just… easier if Chris takes your arm and leads you round the dance floor for a few minutes.

Chris invites you to crew dinners, sometimes as a thanks, but more often not. You enjoy spending time with him off the clock. Getting to know him as a friend.

But you try not to think about the sly looks Una gives you sometimes. You try not to lie awake at night, after one of you has bailed the other out, wishing it were real.

The holiday season is supposed to be a time for family. In Starfleet, your crew is your family. But this year, for the first time in a long time, the Enterprise happens to have a stopover on Earth for nearly two weeks around Earth’s Christmas and new year.

The buzz on the ship is palpable – most of the human crew are excited to spend a holiday season at home, and a lot of non-human crew are able to take some leave on their respective planets too.

But your family is on a far-flung colony, and it would take more than a week to get there from Earth. You don’t mind; Earth holiday traditions aren’t very important to you, and you saw your family a few months ago when the Enterprise was mapping a nebula in a nearby sector. A lot of the crew haven’t seen family in years.

You volunteer to stay on board, but you are assigned leave anyway; you don’t have bridge or engineering officer certification, and everything in your lab is safe to leave.

You don’t argue the point. Instead, you make plans. Visit Australia, learn to surf, try a Christmas Day barbecue on the beach, and maybe head into the bush one day to see some marsupials in the wild. The weather net means conditions will be perfect.

You’re looking through a catalogue of swimwear on the synthesiser, trying to decide whether you want a one piece, bikini, or both, when the door chimes.

“Enter,” you say, puzzled about who it could be. There aren’t many people left on the ship; certainly no one you would expect to pop by. You turn away from the synthesiser to see Captain Pike standing in your doorway, that half smile on his face. And you almost feel a little vulnerable, a little exposed – this is the first time he’s been in your space. You try not to let the feeling show.

“Chris, hey, come in. Can I—Did you need something?”

“I wanted to ask a favour. I know you’re getting ready for your leave,” he glances across to the synthesiser screen, still showing swimsuits, “but I wondered if you could delay for a day? My folks are hosting a party, and—” he grimaces. “My mom is going to try to set me up with every un-attached woman there, and I—”

“And you want a ‘date’ to take the heat off?”

“Yeah. It’ll be busy; I can make sure you don’t have to make small talk with my parents. But I…” he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to ruin your plans. Australia, wasn’t it? You should have your break— you’ve earned it.”

You glance at the chronometer. “Sydney time is nineteen hours ahead, so really that’s like five hours behind us? I was planning to beam over mid-afternoon local time – my room won’t be ready until then. If I join you, I’ll just be getting there in the evening instead.” You nod. “I’ll come.”

It’s worth it for his relieved grin.

After you’ve packed and taken your holiday luggage to the cargo transporter, you swing by the arboretum for one of the cuttings you’ve taken from a flowing plant that you picked up on an away mission. It will only grow in the medium you prepared for it, based on the soil of the planet it comes from, so there’s no biosecurity risk, and it’s pretty, with glossy green leaves and clusters of red and gold bell-like flowers. Perfect for the holiday.

Then you synthesise a dress. It’s understated, nice but not too formal, and you feel pretty in it. You synthesise a wrap, too, in case you need to spend time outside.

Chris is waiting in the transporter room when you get there, looking handsome and festive in a Fair Isle sweater over a button-down shirt. It’s in shades of dark green, red, and cream, with a couple of bands of small snowflakes among more abstract patterns.

“I told you; you didn’t need to bring a present,” Chris says as you step onto the transporter pad at his side.

“I know, but I would have felt wrong without one. We’re doing this properly, right?”

“Right. Kyle, two to beam down.”

The sun has just set when you arrive, and the light is fading from orange to pink to purple to deep blue, reminding you a little of the Jentiri Transit. Here, though, the stars in the sky are mirrored on the ground by a galaxy of fairy lights, picking out what must be Chris’s family home, some out buildings, and a large Christmas tree. You hear music and voices, and there’s a scent of pine in the air.

There are a couple of groups of partygoers approaching the house, and you’re glad that you transported down a little way away – you can orient yourself before you start meeting them.

“Ready to get this show on the road?”

“Yeah. Yes, I am.” Chris takes your hand, lacing warm fingers through yours.

Chris greets people as you cross the yard, some going into the house, others a big barn where the music is coming from, as he leads you to the front door. He’s relaxed – you’ve seen him in enough tense situations to know when it’s real, and when he’s putting on a show – and you relax, too, smiling at his friends.

The front door is open ahead of you, warm light spilling out, and you step across the threshold into a large open hallway, open to the second floor with stairs leading up on one side. There are garlands of greenery with golden pinecones and fairy lights hanging round the upper floor, and soft instrumental music is playing, different to what you could hear from outside.

“Welcome! So glad you were able to join us.” The woman who comes to greet you must be Chris’s mom; she’s older, with silver hair, and Chris’s blue eyes.

She favours you with a warm smile like her son’s as he makes the introductions.

“Thank you for having me, ma’am. I brought you this,” you say, handing over the plant.

“Oh, call me Willa, please. And how beautiful! Thank you – I’ve never seen anything like it. The mix of the colours of the flowers… It’s not from Earth, I take it?”

“No, I collected it on an uninhabited planet in the Iota Lyrae system. I wanted a sample because the soil there was unique, but I chose this plant because it was the prettiest.”

“So you’re a botanist?”

“Exobiologist, but my specialisms are botany and zoology.”

“I look forward to hearing your stories,” she says with an unmistakeable twinkle in her eye, “but for now, Christopher, I think your dad is cooking up some mulled cider. I’m sure you’d both like a drink?”

She smiles again and gives your arm a little squeeze as she steps past you. “Ahmed, Sara, good to see you...”

There’s a touch of relief in Chris’s eyes as you move through into the large open plan living, kitchen and dining room. It must be full of light during the day with large floor to ceiling windows, and it’s still quite bright now, with holiday lights and decorations all around the place, including a traditional looking tree in the corner, mainly decorated in white and gold, with presents underneath. The room is busy with people, a lot Chris’s parents’ age, but a wide range of younger people too, standing in groups and sitting on sofas and armchairs, chatting, drinking, and eating nibbles.

You feel Chris tense a little, though, as you both catch sight of the man who must be his dad, turning from a steaming pan on the kitchen stove to make a space on the counter. You remember Chris mentioning that their relationship could be a bit strained, and you try to resist tensing up yourself as Chris’s dad catches sight of you too.

“Son, perfect timing. Taste this and see if you think I have the spices right – your mom said the last batch was too heavy on the clove. Then your lovely lady can have a drink. I’m sorry, Chris did mention your name when he stopped by this afternoon, but my memory is not what it was.”

You introduce yourself, as Chris dips a spoon in the pan, and sips, thoughtfully.

“I think that’s good, dad. What do you think?” He offers the spoon to you, and you step in closer and lean in to take a sip, all too aware of his proximity, his eyes. Then the flavours register, fruit and spice and sweetness, and you find yourself smiling. You turn.

“I think it’s delicious, sir. I see where Chris gets his talent in the kitchen from.”

That seems to have been the right thing to say, because Mr Pike smiles. He dips a ladle into the pan and pours the cider into a glass mug, then hands it to you. “There. Now you can enjoy it properly.” He hands the ladle to Chris. “Would you—?”

“Of course.” Chris takes the pan off the stove, still holding the ladle, and brushes past you as he goes to put it on the table.

Mr Pike turns his attention back to you, a shrewd look in his eye.

“So do you celebrate Christmas? Will you be spending it with your family? Or do you celebrate another winter festival?”

The questions come thick and fast, about your beliefs and those of your colony, and about its traditions and celebrations. You’re surprised to find yourself thinking again about some of them that you had always taken for granted.

“Sorry about that,” Chris says in an undertone a few minutes later, his gentle hand at your back guiding you into the main part of the room. “I know how he gets, but… the mulled cider is popular.”

“It’s fine. He was asking about my home, not— he seemed genuinely interested.” You stop yourself saying not about us. And then you wonder why.

You don’t have time to think about it, though, because you’re being drawn into conversation. Ahmed, it turns out, went to school with Chris, and they spend some time regaling you and Sara with tales of their high school escapades, and the time in a Parrises Squares tournament all four members of their team somehow managed to get knocked out cold on one play. Then you talk to Esther, a friend of Chris’s mom, about her art, and the inspiration she draws from the desert landscape, flora, and fauna.

You continue making the rounds of the room, Chris catching up with old friends and neighbours. The party feels alive around you; people coming in and out, music playing, food and drink being shared, conversation flowing. And through it all Chris keeps you close, and includes you. You find you’re enjoying yourself, much more than you expected.

“You ready for a change of pace?” Chris asks eventually.

“Sure. What did you have in mind?”

“You dance, right? There’s a dance floor set up in the barn, live band too. Would you like to go see? I don’t usually have a partner,” he adds, soft, mindful of his mother on a sofa nearby.

“That sounds like fun. Lead the way.” You reach for his hand this time, and give it a little squeeze. There is something in his voice... you know Chris belongs in Starfleet, and you know he knows that too, but an occasion like this must make him think of other paths his life could have taken.

Outside there’s a slight chill in the air, and you’re glad you retrieved your wrap from where you put it on a coat stand in the hallway. But it isn’t far to the barn, and soon you’re enveloped in warmth.

There are warm white fairy lights strung along the beams, and another Christmas tree, this one very large, with lots of different baubles and decorations. Of course there is food and drink in here; you smell gingerbread from a table near the door.

There are a lot of people, some who you’ve seen pass through the house, and others you haven’t. There are people standing around the edge of the room, including Chris’s dad, deep in conversation with a group of four Andorians. And there are people on the dance floor, dancing to a jaunty number being played by the band. You don’t know if it’s traditional for the season or not, but it doesn’t seem to matter; everyone is having a good time. As you listen it comes to a stop, and everyone claps.

“May I have this dance?” Chris asks with one of those small lopsided smiles.

You’ve danced with Chris a couple of times before, and it’s always a pleasure. You can relax, safe in the ballroom hold, in sync with him, easily able to follow his lead around the dance floor. And if you pretend to yourself, while you’re in his arms, that this is real… well. You haven’t noticed any Vulcans or members or other telepathic species in attendance.

You dance several dances, until the band takes a break, although the music continues – a singer with a guitar takes over, singing something about a sleigh ride. You’re passing by the Christmas tree on the way to a drinks table when you see it.

“Hey Chris, is that the Enterprise? On the tree?” You step closer to get a better look. “It is! It even has the lettering on the saucer. NCC-1701.”

He laughs, warm. “I think they usually put it on the tree in the house. Bob gave it to my parents as a present, the Christmas after I was made Captain.”

“That sounds like Admiral April. I remember, he—” but you’re interrupted by laughter.

“Chris! Didn’t expect you to get caught!”

You look around to see a group of people all staring at you, expectantly.

“You’ve got to kiss now, guys, it’s the rules.”

“The rules?” You’re confused.

“Look up.” Sara, who you met earlier is there, pointing to some greenery suspended above your head. And you don’t think you’ve seen it before in person, but the way people are talking, it must be—

“Mistletoe.” Chris steps in close. “I’m sorry,” he adds, quiet. “I thought we— never mind. I’ll just—”

He leans over, and brushes a light kiss to your cheek, and it’s chaste but... your breath still catches a little.

“That doesn’t count,” one of the onlookers says, and a murmur of agreement ripples across the group.

Chris looks at you, questioning. And you know he would respect it if you said no, or showed any trace of hesitation. But you give him a tiny nod.

His hand rises up to your face, his fingers warm against your cheek. He leans in slowly, still giving you the chance to change your mind, but your eyelids flutter shut as his lips brush yours. And you’ve been close before. You’ve held hands, walked arm in arm… you’ve been dancing with him all evening. But as his lips brush yours you feel a jolt of energy flow between you, and the party, the audience, the pretence, none of that matters anymore, because Chris is kissing you again. Harder. Sweeter. His hand slips round to the back of your neck and you press against him, kissing back, eager, for a moment suspended together in your own little bubble.

The bubble bursts, though, as you hear cheers and clapping, and you pull away, or Chris pulls away, and suddenly it all feels… too much. The singer is too loud. The people are too close. The barn is too warm. You feel your heart thudding in your chest.

You try to keep it together. You’re here for Chris — you can’t just run out as soon as he kisses you. You nod and smile, make it to the drinks table, and when someone claps Chris’s shoulder, loudly proclaiming that they haven’t seen him in years, you mutter that you’re getting some air, and get out.

You feel like you can breathe again when you get outside. Like you can try to get your whirling thoughts in order. But the door to the house opens and you see Mrs Pike, and your feet are moving before you even think about it, and you’re pushing the door to one of the outbuildings open and slipping inside.

Immediately you feel movement, and smell animals—horses. The stables. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dark, then you make your way slowly past the stalls until you reach one where what could be a chestnut horse with a white patch on its face has its head out, curious to see you. You hold out your hand for it to sniff.

“Are you Mary Lou? I’m sorry, I wasn’t really planning on coming here. I don’t have any apples or sugar lumps or anything.” She nuzzles your hand anyway, and you rub her nose. “I know your owner. I know Chris. Actually, I’m pretending to date him. But then we kissed, and I... I wished...”

“What did you wish?”

You turn, startled. Chris is standing there, holding your wrap, expression unreadable in the dim light.

“I—you—” you stare at the floor.

“Your wrap. You left pretty suddenly; I didn’t want you to be cold. You weren’t outside, and I saw the open door. Should’ve known you and Mary Lou would be making friends.”

You step closer and take the fabric from him, barely raising your gaze, and wrap it around your shoulders, slowly. You hug it to you.

Then you take a little breath, and look up.

“I wished we weren’t pretending. But I know that we are. So—so if you need to transfer me, or—”

He touches a finger to your lips, silencing you.

“When we kissed... I was right there with you. Wanting this. Wanting you.” He shakes his head. “I’ve wanted it for a while, actually, and sometimes I thought... but you—you know how to put on a performance.”

“Not where you’re involved.”

You reach up, still almost disbelieving, almost afraid to make contact. But you can feel Chris’s face stretch into a smile under your touch. His hands settle on your waist, pulling you in closer, and you kiss, lips parting, and it’s gloriously real.

In the end, though, Mary-Lou’s soft whinny reminds you of where you are.

“We should get back. I think Mom saw me head this way, and knowing her, she’ll come looking.” Chris belies his words, kissing your neck, and you gasp as he hits a sensitive spot.

“I—I guess you’re right. We should go.” You miss Chris’s warmth as he finally steps away. He goes over to pat Mary Lou before holding out a hand for you. You lace your fingers together, and he leads you back out of the stables into the night outside, back towards the barn.

“Wait.” A thought occurs to you, and you pull on your joined hands, getting Chris to stop. He turns to you, profile highlighted by the lights shining from the tree. “Is this now our actual first date? And… do you have plans for later this evening? The room I booked in Sydney is a double…”

Chris laughs. “I guess it is. I could join you in Sydney tonight, I know you want to learn to surf… But… have you thought about learning to ride instead?”

#Christopher Pike x Reader #Christopher Pike x You #Captain Pike #Christopher Pike Imagine #Star Trek Strange New Worlds #Star Trek Discovery #fanfic #writings of the girl from outer space #Hold My Hand

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