#2023 quick reviews

[thebellekeys]

Saltburn: The Reign of British Bourgeois (Meta)

I recently had an interesting conversation with a close friend of mine who said, "I don't think Saltburn is really about class." She said she thought it was mainly about obsession, in the most individualist and interpersonal way possible. I naturally disagreed, and we argued about it for an hour. But I think the reason she didn't think it was really about class was because the film had a categorically anti-Marxist conclusion. That is, a very British conclusion. In many ways, Saltburn is a Thatcherite's wet dream. Let's discuss.

Saltburn isn’t an “Eat The Rich” narrative. It’s an “Absorb The Rich” narrative. I disagree that Saltburn is merely about an individual’s obsession with a particular guy or family. Saltburn is about the bourgeoisie’s obsession with the old English aristocracy.

Let’s establish the establishment: the modern English aristocracy whose family seats litter the shires. Saltburn aims to satirize the English Country House family drama, and then some. This is made evident when Felix informs Ollie that, whoa, the Evelyn Waugh himself based Brideshead Revisited and other works on Saltburn, on Felix’s family. The film, in my opinion, was kinda ballsy to go there and to do it so bluntly. So yeah, Saltburn wants to poke fun at the long-established English tradition of aristocratic family dramas such as Downton Abbey, Brideshead Revisited, Bridgerton, Poldark, Rebecca, etc. It’s no coincidence that the movie begins with an egregiously stereotypical sketch of Ollie struggling to fit in at Oxford, à la Charles Ryder. Felix Catton is Sebastian Flyte, and then some. And Ollie is obsessed with him, because look at him. Except… I believe Ollie’s obsession with Felix is less of an interpersonal homoerotic deranged clusterfuck than it is the bourgeois boy’s perennial fixation with the unreachable closed-door English aristocracy, the national pinnacle of inherited class and status in a nation founded on inherited class and status.

Saltburn, butler and all, is a perfect symbol of English aristocratic privilege (seconded by none other than Oxford, but the film didn’t care to explore the hierarchies present in British education and instead chose to focus on family in lieu of academia). Saltburn is grand, medieval, kitchy, isolated in the middle of whereverthefuckshire. One would think that Ollie was intending to infiltrate Saltburn to possess Felix, but I rather think he was intending to infiltrate Felix in order to possess Saltburn. To possess Saltburn is to possess the rank and place of the Catton’s in the world, to be the world. And Ollie doesn’t want to destroy the Cattons nearly as much as he wants to embody them.

I suppose Ollie’s need to absorb, to consume, to possess and to incarnate is obvious through his actions—drinking Felix’s semen in the bathtub, the period blood bit, the grave-fucking debacle. He worms his way through every aspect of the family members’ lives with the intent to become them, to suck them dry (see: “I’m a vampire”, how gothic). By the end when the Cattons are all dead, Ollie celebrates the privilege he has grasped, and in turn, the film applauds his feat rather than condemns him. Saltburn is a film that congratulates Ollie’s usurping of wealth and privilege, rooting for him from beginning to end. And the film never tries to interrogate itself and ask why Ollie is our hero. Ollie, who does not want to break the wheel as much as he wants to be in the room where it happens, even if that means destroying everyone else in his path. Ollie’s obsession, generally speaking, arises from the desire for status and rank rather than an inoccuous maniacal insanity. This is symbolized by his possession and control of Saltburn. If Saltburn were a gothic ghost story, then Ollie is our specter. And Saltburn is definitely rooting for the specter, full stop.

Britain is a nation of ranks and hierarchies, naturally averse to watering down pristine intergenerational blue blood with filthy postmodern capitalist dollars. “Stay in your place”, that is the Tory way. Even in a “modern, democratic” nation nonetheless governed by an antiquated Tory hegemony and quite opposed to both radicalism and revolution. Ollie, however, wants to be in the room where it happens in a world where only those who are born in that room ever get to enter it. It is why he faces this overwhelming yearning for Felix’s world and Saltburn’s beauty – it is, by default, off-limits to him no matter how hard he tries to reach it. In my opinion, Ollie’s fascination with Saltburn isn’t due to a homoerotic fixation on Felix. It’s due to an outsider’s bourgeois fixation on the romantic world of inherited English rank, status, and wealth. The romance of Saltburn, our need to romanticize the privileged upper class, is evident in the stunning cinematography and costuming. Farleigh is the first person in the family to notice Ollie’s insecurities and see it for what it is – he’s begging to be let in. Farleigh likewise takes the opportunity to constantly, antagonistically remind Ollie that Saltburn isn’t his world, that he will never fit in and will never be accepted as one of them: the tux will never perfectly fit. It is the tragedy of the almost-theres. So Ollie decides to just get rid of everyone in his way and prance about naked since the tux refuses to bloody fit.

It’s just so English, culturally speaking. To claw your way to the top to sit with the big boys rather than to criticize the system that bred the arduous, back-breaking, fatal climb in the first place. This is Tory meritocracy, founded on decades of policies to reduce taxes on properties such as Saltburn in Britain, to keep old peers in the Lords. Felix Catton is Sebastian Flyte is Margaret Thatcher. Thatcher who, despite brandishing her “common” background as a selling point during her political career, painstakingly perfected the Received Pronunciation of her Eton parliamentary peers and successfully died with the coveted title of Baroness added to her name. Thatcher, an Oxford scholarship kid like Ollie, who wormed her way into a title and country house and was yet forever plagued by her average, middle-class upbringing.

Ollie is obsessed with much more than a mere man. If Saltburn were a Marxist class story, truly dedicated to class critcism or subverting the English Country House drama, Ollie would have burned the whole damn place down. But Saltburn is rather a Tory class story about the insane lengths the British bouregoisie, obsessed with ascending class hierarchies and disillusioned by the lies of meritocracy, will go to possess the near-unpossessable ranks at the peak of English-textured privilege. The film is a performance in English upper-class tomfoolery and a celebration of its infiltration by the almost-theres.

And yet, the cycle perpetuates itself. Saltburn is ruled by a new lord. Nothing, really, has changed.

[racesundae]

chrome

[randomlynormalgirl]

my take on saltburn is that it is a class commentary but not in the way people are thinking.

It’s not an eat the rich story, it’s more of a ‘look how desperate the English middle class are’. 

Oliver puts on a facade of being worse off than he is, similar to how the British middle class try to appropriate working class culture and struggles whilst at the same time aspiring to an upper class lifestyle and actively putting down working class people.

The movie also doesn’t portray richness as evil but it does show it as odd and those who HAVE richness as alienating - having customs that can only be known if you were born into it and that is what separates the middle from the upper classes in England. 

Oliver is a satire of the middle class hunger and desire for infiltration and assimilation into the upper classes, not a scathing satire of working class desperation, nor is he a working class hero.

[imthefailedartist]

Saw someone say they didn't like Saltburn because the movie doesn't explain Oliver's mental state and why/what led him to do what he did.

And I. . . What? We are doomed. The children are being left behind, and they have no media literacy. No comprehension of nuance. Put down the YouTube, movies explained, and over analyzed reviews masquerading as film essays and pick-up books.

Other than the fact that not everything needs to be explained to make something understandable or even good, it is explained. Oliver wants what they have. That's it.

(Not fully it, but the majority)

Maybe him growing up upper middle class confused them, but still.

[alexisgentry]

It’s the Heathers of 2023 in the very best way

[libraryleopard]

Young adult fantasy graphic novel

Follows Aiza, a girl from the recently conquered Ornu people, who dreams of becoming a knight and becoming a full citizen of the and so joins the squire-training program

As Aiza navigates rigorous training and rivalries among the trainees while keeping her Ornu heritage a secret, she begins to question the glory promised by the empire and must decide where her loyalty lies

Explores xenophobia, imperialism, and propaganda

Palestinian American author and Jordanian American illustrator

[academiawho]

Nitrogen Cycle Imp Microbes

[curlicuecal]

playing science telephone

Hi folks. Let's play a fun game today called "unravelling bad science communication back to its source."

Journey with me.

Saw a comment going around on a tumblr thread that "sometimes the life expectancy of autism is cited in the 30s"

That number seemed..... strange. The commenter DID go on to say that that was "situational on people being awful and not… anything autism actually does", but you know what? Still a strange number. I feel compelled to fact check.

Quick Google "autism life expectancy" pulls up quite a few websites bandying around the number 39. Which is ~technically~ within the 30s, but already higher than the tumblr factoid would suggest. But, guess what. This number still sounds strange to me.

Most of the websites presenting this factoid present themselves as official autism resources and organizations (for parents, etc), and most of them vaguely wave towards "studies."

Ex: "Above And Beyond Therapy" has a whole article on "Does Autism Affect Life Expectancy" and states:

The link implies that it will take you to the "research studies" being referenced, but it in fact takes you to another random autism resource group called.... Songbird Care?

And on that website we find the factoid again:

Ooh, look. Now they've added the word "some". The average lifespan for SOME autistic people. Which the next group erased from the fact. The message shifts further.

And we have slightly more information about the study! (Which has also shifted from "studies" to a singular "study"). And we have another link!

Wonderfully, this link actually takes us to the actual peer-reviewed 2020 study being discussed. [x]

And here, just by reading the abstract, we find the most important information of all.

This study followed a cohort of adolescent and adult autistic people across a 20 year time period. Within that time period, 6.4% of the cohort died. Within that 6.4%, the average age of death was 39 years.

So this number is VERY MUCH not the average age of death for autistic people, or even the average age of death for the cohort of autistic people in that study. It is the average age of death IF you died young and within the 20 year period of the study (n=26), and also we don't even know the average starting age of participants without digging into earlier papers, except that it was 10 or older. (If you're curious, the researchers in the study suggested reduced self-sufficiency to be among the biggest risk factors for the early mortality group.)

But the number in the study has been removed from it's context, gradually modified and spread around the web, and modified some more, until it is pretty much a nonsense number that everyone is citing from everyone else.

There ARE two other numbers that pop up semi-frequently:

One cites the life expectancy at 58. I will leave finding the context for that number as an exercise for the audience, since none of the places I saw it gave a direct citation for where they were getting it.

And then, probably the best and most relevant number floating around out there (and the least frequently cited) draws from a 2023 study of over 17,000 UK people with an autism diagnosis, across 30 years. [x] This study estimated life expectancies between 70 and 77 years, varying with sex and presence/absence of a learning disability. (As compared to the UK 80-83 average for the population as a whole.)

This is a set of numbers that makes way more sense and is backed by way better data, but isn't quite as snappy a soundbite to pass around the internet. I'm gonna pass it around anyway, because I feel bad about how many scared internet people I stumbled across while doing this search.

People on quora like "I'm autistic, can I live past 38"-- honey, YES. omg.

---

tl;dr, when someone gives you a number out of context, consider that the context is probably important

also, make an amateur fact checker's life easier and CITE YOUR SOURCES

[looking-for-sight]

me and media #2

With all the hype around the bathwater scene, why did I see nobody talk about the grave scene?

I watched Saltburn and it was very entertaining

like honestly I almost thought I might have ruined the experience, because I saw so many people talking about the movie, especially on tik tok, before watching it myself. The talk around the bathwater scene; was either the grossest thing and people left the cinema or people were disappointed because they had read weirder stuff under the dead dove do not eat tag. If i maybe had no prior knowledge I would have had a stronger reaction because the audio was intense, but nothing compares to the grave. the dirt. the young man just buried. And Oliver on top.

[libertyreads]

Book Review #113 of 2023--

Iced Out by Veronica Eden. Rating: 2.5 stars.

Read from September 2nd to 6th.

Before I get into anything about this book, can we talk about how I got sold on it by a Tumblr post about hockey romances, bought it, completely forgot the premise, and then when I went to write up my TBR month got it confused with another book also called Iced Out? I wrote up a synopsis for that other book. Ugh, why am I the way that I am? I have no clue. Let me know if you ever figure it out. I also spent way too long (for me in particular) trying to read this one. I started it on Sunday and got one chapter in before I couldn't focus anymore. My husband and I are starting the house buying process and the sheer stress I've been under has turned my brain to rot. I read one chapter (11 pages) of a hockey romance but then put it down for the weekend because I couldn't focus. Huh? This genre takes the least amount of focus for me and I couldn't do it? That's not a great sign for the rest of the month.

However, focusing on the book, I want to mention that I had a sort of love/hate relationship with this one. I had so much fun in the beginning with watching Easton attempt to woo Maya since she had sworn off of hockey players following a bad break up years ago. I loved how slowly her guard lowered and seeing her try to avoid getting feelings. And the way he was instantly all about her and just waiting for her to decide to give him a chance? Ugh. Yes please. But that was only about a third of the novel and it wasn't enough of the angst. We all know I'm an angst driven reader. I don't know when it happened, I don't know why it happened, I don't even WANT to know what it means about me. But I could have easily read another 50 pages of the 'Will they/won't they?' I also really enjoyed all of the side characters/hockey players and the hockey house seemed like so much fun. Which really makes it sound like this book should get a higher rating from me. But wait. There's more.

Between the sheer volume of sex scenes and the kinks that are explored in them, I could hardly read this book. I DEFINITELY had to stop reading it on my breaks at work. I swear I looked like a fucking stop sign while sitting in the break room and reading about things I do not like. I get that everyone is different with what they enjoy, but as an asexual reader who sometimes likes to pick up a spicy sports romance? It was way too much for me. Which sucks since I enjoyed almost literally every other aspect of the novel. I just cannot get over the things this author made me read with my own two eyeballs.

I think part of it is a me thing, but, in this rare instance, I also think I wouldn't be alone in saying that the sex in this book is just too much. Too many scenes, too many kinks. It's a lot. I think this had an opportunity to be a great read for me since this is one of the few hockey romances I've read that doesn't make me want to sit the author down and explain how the sport actually works. But if anyone has any other hockey romances to recommend I would really appreciate it.

[bucketbueckers]

I'D RATHER PRETEND

CHAPTER TWO

tags: @angryflowerwitch @avvwritesstufff @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @bueckersg1rl @l0verl4ne @clouded-whispers @dolliest-thena @katemartinlvr @numberonepartyanth3m @glamourdaya | lmk if you want to be added! wc: 7.6k notes: check masterlist for content warnings! honestly a pretty lowkey chap but it's strictly business ���� thank you for the love on chapter 1 🫶 i fear this chap and the next couple of parts are slow-ish but i've reread this literally a million times and im sick of it so what do i actually know. no beta we die like brian thompson

'Bueckers and Kennedy, Two Dynasties, Both Alike in Dignity'

College basketball fans are excited for what appears to be the end of the "Tess Kennedy Destruction Tour." After a quiet few days, the South Carolinian guard took to social media where she shared a photo of her and a faceless individual meeting for coffee. The Instagram story was captioned "and a new day will bring about the dawn," a lyric from Frank Ocean's "Sierra Leone." Supporters interpreted this as Kennedy's recovery journey taking a positive turn, but the song lyric was not the star of the show.

Fans were quick to point out the identity of the individual was not as hidden as it seemed. Kennedy's companion was wearing two notable necklaces - one with a silver cross and one with a studded #5. The phone case in camera was also purple with a wallet attached to the back. One commenter pointed out there was a University of Connecticut student ID poking out, and after review, we believe that much is true.

Early speculation declared Kennedy's friend was none other than Paige Bueckers, the star point guard for the University of Connecticut Huskies. Then, roughly an hour after Kennedy's post, Bueckers herself took to her Instagram where she shared a photo of her holding an icepack to someone's left knee. Both Bueckers and the mystery individual are faceless; however, fans noted Bueckers's companion was wearing a silver bracelet with familiar charms and a #25, Kennedy's jersey number.

All of the signs point to Bueckers and Kennedy spending time together, although nothing has been confirmed officially. One fan noted that Bueckers tore her own ACL the year prior, believing that Bueckers flew out to South Carolina to lend a supportive hand to Kennedy amidst her own recovery and hardships. Whether or not this is simply two friends rehabbing together or the most obvious soft launch in basketball history, sports fans are united on two things: Tess Kennedy is beginning to take her recovery seriously, and Paige Bueckers might just be the guardian angel people were calling for.

-Penelope Lancaster, Bleacher Report

MAY 3, 2023

“So, lemme get this straight.”

Tess hums around a mouthful of Chipotle, feeling lighter than she has in weeks. Kamilla and Bree returned to their apartment roughly a half hour earlier and immediately put Tess on the hot seat. Once she made it through her countless apologies and explanations with minimal interruptions, she gave Kam and Bree the green light to ask their questions, and it seemed as though they had plenty.

Kam raises her fingers as she lists off the recent happenings of Tess’s life. “Because you went off a bender–” Tess frowns at the way it’s phrased, “–Amaya is forcing you into mandatory PT, therapy, and a shit ton of PR. Honestly, about fucking time.” Bree snorts, although some of the worry leaves her body. “If all it took was tough love, I woulda been meaner to your ass a month ago.”

“Don’t think it would have had the intended effect,” Tess concedes thoughtfully. She pushes around her rice and chicken, shoveling a pepper in her mouth. “I wasn’t really in a listening mood back then.”

Bree raises a brow. “And you were today?”

The injured guard shrugs a shoulder. “Well, when your manager tells you that your brand deals are about to cut their contracts, and you’re at risk for losing your basketball scholarship for behavior and academic reasons, and you’re slowly killing yourself…that kind of puts things into perspective.”

Kamilla nods solemnly. “And the Paige situation.”

Tess almost flushes under their scrutinizing gaze. She hasn’t forgotten. She has Paige’s receipt tucked into the pocket of her pants, unwilling to throw it away but also feeling weirdly vulnerable for wanting to keep it. It wasn’t a huge gesture by any means. Paige doing PT with her was objectively more intimate than buying her lunch, but the mere idea of Paige saying goodbye to her and sitting in an Uber trying to figure out what Tess likes in her Chipotle bowl is just fucking insane. “Guess I’m not single anymore…so, yay?”

“You’re taking this a lot better than I expected,” Kamilla admits hesitantly. Tess clocks the concern in her expression, like she’s thinking about her next step if she wakes up tomorrow and Tess is back to her old ways. That thought alone makes guilt squeeze at Tess’s heart.

Tess sighs. “It was like a wake up call,” she says after a moment. “Like those stupid ice baths Coach makes us do in recovery.” Kamilla and Bree crack a small smile at the joke. “To me, it was just easier to self-destruct than to let something else kill me. Basketball’s more than a sport to me – it’s my purpose, right? So after I heard I might not be able to play again, I just…let myself sink. And, Christ, people were so cruel online.” Tess huffs out something like a laugh, her throat tight with pain. “It’s funny ‘cause it never bothered me before, but… I just wanted to forget. I wanted them to hurt like I hurt. It was too easy to give into that.” The silence rings out in the living room as Tess searches for her next words. “I don’t think all hope is lost. Today helped me understand that a little better. So, I’m gonna try. I’m just fucking terrified it’s all going to be for nothing, that my knee’s never going to get better and I’m going to put myself through so much pain for a what if.”

“Okay, what if you never play again, but, God, Tess, what if you do?” Kamilla says slowly. “What if you do everything right and you get better and you can play with us again in March? I want that for you. We want that for you. Do you want that for you?”

“I mean, of course–”

“Then do it!” Kamilla exclaims, voice cracking. Tess blinks at her owlishly. She’s never seen Kamilla like this, ever, wide-eyed and desperate. It’s a near 180 shift from the girl she’s spent the last 30 minutes talking to, a complete and total shift from the girl who she’s shared an apartment with for two years. “Please, Tess. Do the PT, your therapy, get back on track; whatever it fucking takes, Tess, you need to do it. We miss you. On and off the court. I know it’s not about me, but watching you throw yourself away like that was the worst thing I’d ever witnessed, especially because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get through to you. I thought I was going to lose my best friend!”

Tess’s jaw falls open as the sudden realization of how badly she’s fucked up dawns on her for the second time that day. “Kam,” she tries, her throat tightening with emotion. The taller woman wipes her eyes, taking in a shuddering breath. Kamilla was never one to be mean, no matter how upset she was – that was a trait of hers that made her such a good leader and role model on the court. She was big on accountability and ensuring that past mistakes would never happen again. Seeing all of the emotion she kept under tight lock and key because she knew she needed to be strong for Tess (even before Tess was aware that she needed someone to be strong for her) is unbelievably sobering.

When Tess and Kamilla first met, they almost instantly knew they would be each other’s best friend. They were alike in so many ways – they were fierce competitors and proud haters of The Office; they bonded over shared struggles of not quite knowing what home was and being just a little too different from everyone else. Tess isn’t sure where she would be without Kamilla. She always prayed she’d never have to find out, but the idea that she nearly subjected Kamilla to finding out where she’d be without Tess feels both arduous and damning.

“Kam,” Tess says again, her mind reeling. “I’m so sorry – I’m so fucking sorry. If I could do it all over again, I would. I’m trying. It’s so hard but I’m trying.”

“I know,” Kamilla says, nodding rapidly. Bree is unnaturally quiet, glancing between the two of them with a conflicted expression. Sure, the three of them shared an apartment, but the bond between Tess and Kamilla exceeded friendship; they were like sisters. Bree knew that and it never bothered her. Now it seems as though she’s unsure where to stand, but she understands that this is a much-needed conversation that Tess and Kamilla need to have. “I know, Tess, I’m just – I’m glad you understand it now. Just… please, please let us help you. Don’t shut us out.”

“I won’t,” Tess vows. “I can’t promise I’m going to be at 100%, but fuck, I’m going to try.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Kamilla concedes.

The living room is quiet for a long while until Bree shifts uncomfortably. “So… PT and mental health counseling, those I understand,” she says. “I’m still a little lost on why fake dating Paige is good for your reputation. Rumors are rumors but…it’s giving new flavor of the week.”

“It’s not like that,” Tess argues, a little too defensively. Bree raises a brow and Tess immediately flushes. She’s not sure why that jab at Paige felt personal. She made a similar jab only a few hours ago. But it wasn’t her business to judge. People have their own reasons to do what they do, right? “Well, she said it wasn’t like that,” she amends, which sounds objectively worse. Tess frowns, wishing she’d just kept quiet.

“Hey, I’m just saying.” Bree raises her hand in surrender. “It’s her vice, right? Her free time is her own, but I mean, she’s Paige Bueckers. It’s easy to get caught up in her. I just don’t want you becoming another notch on her bedpost, even if you’re just fake dating her to make people forget you’re on Twitter restriction.”

Tess wrinkles her nose. “My account is unbanned now, thank you very much,” she deflects, but Kamilla’s knowing expression has her redirecting. “I understand what you guys mean, but you don’t have to worry about that. We’re strictly business.” Bree grins wryly, huffing out something akin to laughter that sounds vaguely like, ‘that’s what they all say.’

“Was the Chipotle strictly business?” Bree asks.

Tess’s face is a perfect picture of confusion, but her heart thrums a little faster at the insinuation. What could she possibly know about that? “What does Chipotle have to do with anything?” she asks casually.

Bree’s smirk widens. “You never order bowls. It’s always a burrito with you.”

“I’m trying something new!”

“Yeah, new like a six-foot blonde hooper–”

Kamilla and Bree break out into howling laughter as Tess buries her head in her hands, blushing again. “Oh, my God. You guys are the fucking worst.”

And, sure – the joke is at Tess’s expense, but she can’t help but feel like everything is aligning once more, that they’re returning to the way they once were pre-injury. She expected that it would have taken her a lot more groveling to earn back their favor. Tess was a huge jerk to them – the more she thinks about what she’d likely said to them under the haze of several shots of tequila, the more she wishes she could take it all back and do it over again. She tore her ACL, a season ending injury for many athletes, and for a smaller few, it changed the course of their careers drastically. Tess wants to find it within herself to have some grace, to understand why she behaved the way she did, but now that she sees it with a clearer mind, she can’t help but be disgusted by herself.

For Kamilla and Bree, it’s probably all water under the bridge. They’re kind people like that, perhaps too kind after the way Tess treated them. Maybe the real gotcha! moment is the idea that Tess didn’t need to earn back their favor, anyhow. Sometimes friendship just works like that – it’s confusing and a great risk, but most times that risk pays off. Sometimes friendship just is, accepting a mistake and trusting that it wouldn’t happen again.

Feeling lighter than she has in weeks, Tess retires to her room for some much needed rest after a long day. She lights a candle, settling against her headboard and adjusting the pillow cushioning her knee. Deciding to face the music sooner rather than later, she begins combing through her mountain of notifications and unread DMs. The apology from Caitlin is touching. Tess feels an odd mix of guilt and appreciation as she drafts out her overdue response: “thank you for checking in, been a rough couple weeks. the injury is not your fault but trust that SC will pick your pockets next year!!!” Caitlin’s own response is swift – a simple 'Bring it on' that Tess can’t help but smile at.

She sends similar responses to some of Caitlin’s teammates and the other college players who reached out. She even had a couple of pros expressing their condolences, which honestly shocked Tess. There was Napheesa Collier, Sabrina Ionescu, and A’ja Wilson – A’ja’s DM made Tess’s Gamecock heart beat just a little faster. She was basically South Carolina royalty. Having that kind of support in her corner fills her with an insurmountable confidence.

Her last post on Instagram was a collection of pictures following their Elite Eight win. The sight of herself from a month ago, healthy and glowing, nearly made her thumb falter as she flicked through the images. It was a simple dump – a couple of action shots, a fierce one of Tess celebrating, one of her setting up for a deep three. It was captioned “nowhere else i’d rather be.” That much was still true. She’s pushed it to the recesses of her mind, but instinctually, she can feel the deep ache and the yearn to get back on the court, even though her knee hardly lets her sleep through the night most of the time.

Her eyes fall to the comments. She knows she shouldn’t look at them. She’s practically memorized each and every single one of them. Her teammates’ comments live at the top, celebrating the win with her; under them, there are newer ones from South Carolina fans, offering prayers and support, confident in their belief that Tess will bounce back from this. She can’t help herself from reading the hate comments, either. Her eyes catch on one in particular. Their username isn’t particularly memorable, but it reads, ‘Upsetting to see how Tess has responded to a normal injury for athletes. It’s shameful that South Carolina has let this go on for so long. Grow up!’ 

Well, he’s not wrong. Tess’s response was a pretty terrible one and Amaya herself admitted that they made a mistake in handling the situation. Frankly, he should be proud that Tess has grown up! If she read that comment a week ago, she probably would have crashed out. The thought alone makes Tess crack the slightest of smiles. Before she can keep reading, a text message from an unknown number pops up at the top of her screen, inadvertently saving her from a doom scroll.

Yo How’d I do on lunch? It’s Paige btw

Tess fights the warmth she feels in her chest. Honestly, she would have guessed that it was Paige from the ego she can identify through the screen alone, but she saves her contact regardless.

i’m afraid to admit i prefer burritos but the bowl was a 9/10

Paige’s response is swift.

9 cause I’m the 1 you need?

Tess rolls her eyes.

9 bc there was too much pico and bc the girl who ordered it flirts like a 12 year old

That’s insane You KNOW I have better game than that

you have no rizz, just blue eyes and a bunch of nil money like joe burrow if he was a hey mamas lesbian

Gonna ignore that hey mamas comment just cause I fuck with Joe Burrow The Bengals don’t have nothing on my Vikings though

i think i just got the ick im not gonna lie

Are you a football hater???

i don’t watch men’s sports at all i try to protect my peace

Pause So no Lebron???

ok well obviously i’ve watched the NBA

You scared me Don’t say that shit again

why are you so high maintenance

Why are you so mean

someone has to keep you in check settling down, remember?

I think you could be a little nicer!

hmmm i’ll consider ok i decided no

Just plain evil

i need to get my kicks in early if im stuck with you again on friday

You invited me???

i don’t think that’s how that happened

Pretty sure that’s exactly how that happened Paige please come to PT with me 🥺 Please Paige

ok now you’re just being delusional i see how you’re forgetting the whole ‘tess let me buy your coffee 🥺please tess’

Chilllll Did your doctor check you for a concussion after the ACL?? There’s something wrong with your brain

be honest, are you a natural blonde or did you work really hard to be this stupid

Hard work always baby Also, wanted to ask if you wanna come to the airport with me on Saturday, be seen together I fly out at 11:30am so I think it would be good for us The story I mean

you gonna pay for my uber back?

Duh

paige i was kidding

I wasn’t No rizz, just blue eyes and a lot of NIL money, right?

you’re insufferable

So you’ll come?

don’t sound so excited but i will for the story

Of course See you Friday ma 🫶

Tess likes Paige’s message before shutting her phone off with a sigh. She needs a nap.

MAY 5, 2023

Friday arrives after a day and a half of binging 2 Broke Girls, independent physical therapy exercises, and lots of ice packs.

Tess slept like shit Thursday night, though she’s unsure if it’s because of the pain in her knee or because of how badly she wanted to haul her ass to the bar and order a couple of shots to numb the throb. She knew she couldn’t do it, no matter how much she thought she needed it – it was bad enough that she spent half of the night sweating through her shirt and chewing on ice cubes to distract herself from the slow downward spiral of her thoughts. Not addicted, she’d remind herself, nursing a cup with rapidly melting ice as she watched Max and Caroline put themselves in weird ass situations. Psychologically, no. Physically…who knows. Tess certainly doesn’t know what that means, but she’s not addicted, period.

Her first therapy appointment was scheduled for Monday afternoon. She just had to hold out until then. Tess hopes that she would glean something useful from her counselor, but she’s been self aware and independent enough for years that she’s usually good at identifying her problems, though slightly less efficient at figuring out what to do about them. Her typical coping methods included a casual mantra of, ‘Pitbull’s been there, done that,’ and running a couple of drills in the quiet of the gym. And, sure – it sounds weird, but the idea that she’s not the only person facing an issue is comforting enough that she wonders if it’s even that deep. It works most of the time and she’s able to shrug it off. She will admit there’s an eventual crash out one way or the other, but she prefers one big explosion over a series of small, ill-timed ones.

With nothing but time on Thursday night, her Google search history consisted of queries such as how long does it take to establish alcohol dependence and symptoms of alcohol withdrawals. Then, around 3am, she got distracted and switched over to TikTok where she scrolled through edits of herself, but that’s less important. She learned that establishing alcohol dependence usually varies from person to person (Tess hates when something ‘depends;’ why can’t there ever be a straight answer?). It’s less clear if she’s officially ‘addicted,’ but she will concede that after a month of heavy drinking, there’s a little something there. Which isn’t ideal, of course, but hopefully it’s mild at the least. It was only a month and people intervened early…ish – maybe if she sticks to recovery then she should be good and clear within a couple weeks at the most.

Google also informed her of the several symptoms of withdrawals, which usually set in anywhere from six to twenty-four hours after going cold-turkey on the drinks. The withdrawals explained, obviously, the need to ransack the liquor store, but also the restlessness, the slight headache she was nursing for the past twenty-four hours, and the perpetual stomach ache she couldn’t seem to get rid of.

She had some answers. So, things were looking up!

…At least they were until she got the call from Amaya at 9:30 as she was struggling to eat a bagel. Google also mentioned a loss of appetite, which Tess was less than happy about. Much like everything else about her recovery, she would have to force herself into doing a lot of things that her body didn’t want her to do. She’d get used to it. She lets her phone ring for a short moment before she sighs, accepting the call and putting it on speaker, greeting Amaya.

“Good morning, Tess!” Amaya chirps, unusually chipper. The basketball player immediately frowns, brows furrowing.

“You get laid?” she asks, unsure of what else Amaya could be happy about in her life.

She can almost hear Amaya’s eye roll from across the line. “No, not that it’s any of your business, though.”

“Boo.”

“Anyways, back to business.” Amaya clears her throat. Tess can hear the slight shuffle of papers. “So, I really liked what you and Paige did, soft-launch wise. The press is eating it up and so far, both of your brand deals are seeing a slight surge in activity. I’m guessing people are flocking to your accounts for raunchy details and seeing you advertise, um, really cool make up products and homework help.” Tess huffs out a laugh at that. “Good job. Also, Craig let me know you showed up to PT as scheduled on Wednesday and did really well. He said you and Paige worked really well together–”

“Stop,” Tess says, listening to the sound of Amaya’s smug laugh. “Don’t insinuate anything.”

“I’m not insinuating anything!” Amaya says defensively and Tess cracks a smile. “So, we just need you and Paige to keep up what you’re doing. Do the small things for a couple of weeks, then hard-launch. We’re going to give you guys most of the control over that. We want it to seem more authentic and less like two PR agencies trying to salvage their clients’ images.”

“Of course,” Tess says innocently. “She’s coming to PT today. Then I’m going with her to the airport tomorrow.”

Amaya sighs dreamily. “You’re such a wonder to work with when you’re being cooperative.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Tess grumbles, giving up on the bagel and tossing it in the trash.

“Alright, one more thing,” Amaya continues, “then I’ll let you go.” Tess hums. “I need you to draft an apology to post on your socials – and I know, it sounds corny, but–”

“You don’t need to explain why,” Tess interrupts softly. “I got it. I fucked up and I made a huge mess. I’ll email that to you Saturday night.”

Amaya is quiet for a moment, contemplative. “Thank you, Tess. And, hey, how are you feeling?”

Tess doesn’t answer for a beat, considering keeping her thoughts to herself, but she reminds her promise to Kamilla to not shut anyone out, so she sighs. “Um, not gonna lie, I didn’t sleep at all last night,” she admits. “My knee hurt and I really wanted to drink – but I didn’t! I binge watched TV and ate ice cubes. Probably not the best thing I could have done but it was all I had to work with.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Amaya says gently. “It’s gonna be hard for a while, especially when your injury is still new and fresh and you’re all over the place mentally. I’m proud of how you handled it, even if you think you could have done better. Don’t forget you can call that counselor, okay? She’s available at all hours for you.”

“I don’t wanna be a bother–”

“It’s her job,” Amaya states, before adding in a more mother-hen tone, “but she also requested to work with you specifically because this issue is close to her and she really wants to help you. So if you need help, call her. Got it?”

Tess blinks back the impending tears. “Yeah. Got it.”

“Listen, I’m proud of you, I mean it,” Amaya reiterates. “Thank you for being patient and doing this. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Yeah,” Tess says again. “Talk to you soon.”

Amaya hangs up with one final goodbye. Tess presses her head to the cool counter tile and takes a deep breath. She hardly has the time to think before a knock sounds at the apartment door. Already knowing it was Paige, Tess wipes her eyes and slips her crutches under her arms as she slinks towards the door and opens it.

“Mornin!’” Paige greets, far too cheery for barely ten in the morning. She’s holding two cups of coffee in her hands. When Tess glances down, she easily recognizes her coffee order. Then, a frown covers Paige’s face as she walks in and shuts the door behind her. “You good, ma?”

“Just a tough conversation with Amaya,” Tess says as Paige hands her the drink. She takes a long sip, feeling a little more regulated. “Too many feelings.”

Paige smirks at her. “I’m guessin’ she said the same shit my manager called for? ‘Keep up the good work and keep doing couple-y stuff?’”

Tess hums. “More or less. Oh, I also get to publicly apologize, so there’s that.”

The blonde raises a brow as Tess hands back the coffee cup so she can slip into her shoes. “You? Apologize?”

Tess swats her with her crutch, drawing laughter from Paige. “You’re such a jerk. I apologized to you on Wednesday!”

“Yeah, ‘cause you called me a whore,” Paige says with a dramatic pout. “Really hurt my women-respecting feelings.”

“Please walk me to PT and stop talking.”

And Paige does just that. She holds onto both of their coffees as they walk as Tess’s hands are otherwise preoccupied with her crutches. The silence doesn’t last too long before Paige is rambling about all of the questioning she’s getting from her teammates, and Tess can’t help but listen – correction, she has no other choice but to. Paige admits that she doesn’t like keeping secrets from her team, and Tess feels sympathetic enough that she gives Paige the go-ahead to confess their little ruse. Paige’s denial, however, is shockingly mature. “I trust them not to say sum’ maliciously, right? But you never know who’s listening.”

Tess shrugs a shoulder. “If you change your mind, go for it, okay?” she says. “This is our punishment. Don’t wanna fuck up your friendships.”

“S’all good,” Paige says. “Actually, they’re pretty happy about it. Aubrey thinks I’ll play better next season since I ‘got a girl.’”

Tess snorts. “Yeah, you’ll play better until March, then I’ll get cleared to be back on the court and I’ll drop 25 on you.”

Paige wrinkles her nose. “No way, ma. Try 2-point-5. As in 2.5 turnovers every time I guard you.”

Their banter continues until they reach the PT’s office. Craig greets them with an infectious grin and Tess immediately brightens. He helps her take the brace off of her leg and rolls up her pant leg, poking and prodding at her injury. After just a day and a half of actual care, much of the inflammation has reduced.

Craig walks her through some guided exercises, and much to Tess’s silent appreciation, Paige joins them, too. She has a charming smile on her face the entire time, tacking on ridiculous jokes at the absolute worst moments when Tess is out of breath from the stretch and when laughing feels like gasping for air. Paige is strangely helpful. She boosts both Tess’s morale, comforting her in the fact she’s not doing this alone, but she also has a plethora of tips on how to manage the pain and get a better stretch on the exercises. Her hands are warm on Tess’s knee when she adjusts her leg and the way it bends. Craig looks on with an approving nod, though he jokes that Paige is coming for his job, to which Paige huffs, “Tess don’t listen to me.” Tess can only roll her eyes at that, pretending like she doesn’t care about the way Paige’s hands massage the tension out of her leg.

When Craig steps out to grab his wrapping supplies, Paige stretches out her legs and reaches for her phone. “For the gram?” she asks easily, glancing at Tess for permission.

“Don’t call it that,” she grumbles, but nods anyway and pulls out her own phone. “You sound like an old person.”

“You sound like an old person,” Paige mocks, effectively lowering her age by a solid ten years, and Tess rolls her eyes in amusement. She slides a little closer to Tess, reaching for her left leg and draping it over her right one gently, locking their ankles together. “Good?” Tess hums, looking over Paige’s shoulder and throwing a thumbs up into view of the camera. “You’re so unoriginal,” Paige says, but she sticks her free hand in frame and presses her middle and ring fingers to her thumb, raising her index and pinky in the Husky salute.

“That’s basically a hard launch,” Tess says, though she doesn’t really care.

“Everything we do is a hard launch,” Paige retorts. “We got Instagram detectives, remember?”

Tess mulls it over for a second before turning to Paige with a mischievous grin. “You wanna break the internet?”

“Oh, now we’re talking.”

Paige posts her picture to her story, forgoing any sort of caption, and silences her phone. She gives Tess her undivided attention as she plots. Tess pulls Paige closer into her space, hooking her chin over her right shoulder and leaning against her. Setting up her phone at the right angle, she says, “Look to your left,” and Paige does so until her piercings, half of her low bun, and the slight curve of her jaw are the only things in frame. The lights glint off of the diamond studs in her ears – Tess has to resist a smirk at how obvious the picture is, but she quickly controls her expression, her lips drawing into a natural pout as she takes the photo.

“Got it?” Paige asks, tilting her head to look at the photo. A smile covers her face as she takes it in. “Tess, you’re evil. Everyone is gonna flip.”

“My notifications are going to explode,” she says forlornly. “This is the price I pay to be mysterious and sexy.”

“Mysterious, nah,” Paige says. Her eyes linger on Tess’s face for a moment before she breaks out into a grin. “Sexy…? Hell nah.”

Indignant, Tess pushes her away, sending Paige sprawling to the floor dramatically. “Asshole! What happened to those ‘women-respecting feelings?’”

“You just pushed me to the ground!” Paige cries. “Where are your women-respecting feelings?”

Craig walks in just then, his face morphing into amused confusion as he looks between the two of them, wrapping supplies in hand. “Am I interrupting something?” he jokes.

Tess tries to keep the blush off of her cheeks. “Paige is just being mean to me,” she declares. “Poor Tess Kennedy whose left knee doesn’t even work.”

“Bro!” Paige’s tone is exasperated, and it brings a smile to Tess’s face. “You’re full of sh–” Paige cuts herself off with a cough. “...Sharks. Full of sharks.”

Craig chuckles as he examines Tess’s knee one last time before nodding and beginning to wrap it. “Same stuff, okay? Ice it when you do independent exercise, keep using your crutches, absolutely nothing strenuous.”

Tess nods, thanking Craig and heading out with Paige at her side. Even though the PT combined with her lack of sleep the night before has left her exhausted, Tess is in a significantly better mood than she started the day with. It’s likely too early into her recovery to feel any sort of earth-shattering hope, but she can’t help but feel like she’s doing it. She has yet to attend her first therapy appointment and the light at the end of the tunnel is still ten months away, but it feels like she’s making it out alive. And for now, that’s good enough for her.

MAY 6, 2023

Sleep comes easier to her Friday night. The cravings returned in full force as she was getting ready for bed, but Tess was exhausted – she took a melatonin gummy and passed out, although her knee woke her up a time or two. She felt well-rested for the first time in a couple of days. The drinking numbed her enough that she was able to sleep, but the abrupt cut-off has her body in disarray. It’s a double-edged sword. Her body craves it, but every time she thinks about a drink, she’s so disgusted at the thought that she can nearly taste the bile in her mouth. While it makes the cravings subside for a moment, they always return. She takes Tylenol in the morning to ward off the impeding headache and chugs a cup and a half of water, feeling as though she needs to flush all the bullshit out of her body.

Kamilla and Bree are up early and the three of them mill about the kitchen as they prepare a light breakfast. It was a Saturday morning tradition for them, usually consisting of pancakes, bacon, and eggs and a lengthy conversation about their weeks or anything in general. They’ve missed out on it for the past month for…obvious reasons that Tess already nurses a lot of guilt over, but she’s keen on making up for lost time. Kam and Bree put her on bacon duty as it’s the least strenuous. She portions the meat in the pan and slides it into the oven as Kam and Bree bicker over their shared stovetop space.

It’s grounding. Tess contributes where she can, enjoying the peace of the moment and laughing along with her teammates when they say something stupid. It nearly makes her forget about her knee, about the guilt she’s working through as she continues to make amends. Part of her wonders why she’d ever resorted to shutting everyone out and losing herself when all she really needed was to just let them in. She watches Kam shout in indignation as Bree jokingly flicks a bit of pepper into her pancake batter, and all Tess can think about is how could she ever hurt those girls. She remembers her promise. Tess has let too many terrible things become a habit, but she refuses to let mistreating her friends be a continued one.

They all sit to eat and the chatter only stops long enough to pass around their bottle of maple syrup and the butter. Kam and Bree ask how PT’s been going, and Tess is honest when she answers. She’s only two days into it and more often than not, it hurts – but she knows it’s for the better. She doesn’t voice the worry that she might stop taking it as seriously once Paige is back in Connecticut. Tess was only partially joking when she told Craig she had an enforcer. Paige holds her accountable in a way she’s been trying to force herself into doing, but her mind is still such a mess that it’s difficult and all she wants to do is mope in bed all day. She knows Kam and Bree wouldn’t let her live that down and she doesn’t want them to feel like she still needs a babysitter.

They tell her that they're proud of her, and Tess feels the tears well up as she tells them to shut up.

“She’s so back,” Kamilla cheers, high-fiving Bree. “Our little ball of sunshine.” Tess can only roll her eyes.

Breakfast ends and Kam and Bree ensure that they’ve got the dishes. The clock on the stove reads 10:30. Tess knows that Paige is likely on her way. She hugs them both, promising to be back once she’s seen her off, and slips into her shoes just as a knock rings out at the door.

Paige’s brows draw into a dramatic furrow once they come face to face. “Damn, you opened this door mad quick,” she says. “Tryna get rid of me that fast?”

Tess cracks a smile, shutting the door behind them with the leg of her crutch. “The sooner you’re out of South Carolina, the better.” They walk down the hallway.

Paige sighs as she punches the elevator button for the lobby. “You’ll miss me,” she says, assured. “You’re gonna miss me bringin’ you coffee, DoorDashing you Chipotle, and making sure you don’t re-tear your ACL.”

“On the contrary…I’ll enjoy the peace and quiet.” Paige shoots her a dirty look and Tess can’t help but laugh.

Paige escorts her to the Uber she has waiting for them. She holds onto Tess’s crutches as she helps her into the passenger side backseat, laying her leg flat against the leather. Her foot nearly brushes the door. Confused and wondering what Paige is doing, the blonde shuts the door and rounds the side. As she settles in, she drapes Tess’s leg over her lap. “You good?”

Mouth dry, all Tess can do is nod, and Paige leans forward enough to instruct their Uber driver to head to the airport. Her palm falls flat on Tess’s shin, her thumb brushing against her leg, and with the way Paige stares out of the window, it’s almost like she doesn’t even register what she’s doing. Their ride is quiet, save for the driver's soft R&B that Paige bobs her head to. Tess slips her phone out of her pocket and snags a quick photo, flipping her phone screen to show her. Paige smiles at her wordlessly, knowing they shouldn’t verbally scheme in front of the driver, and Tess posts the photo to her story.

She refreshes her feed, combing through all of the shit she’s been tagged in from various college basketball update accounts and Instagram sleuths. She and Paige are the face of a new account named taigeupdates – which Tess is assuming is supposed to be their ship name? Given that the alternative is Pess – not that Tess has given it any thought, because she hasn’t! – she could live with it. The admin already has Tess’s story reposted and the comments are flooding in with many begging for an official hard launch since it’s already obvious.

Their driver parks in the designated drop off lane and Paige helps Tess out of the backseat, ensuring she’s stable on her crutches before she’s looping around to the trunk and pulling her carry-on and suitcase out. Tess can already feel the eyes on them, the hushed whispers of, “Is that Paige Bueckers and Tess Kennedy?” And despite years in the spotlight, she can’t help the anxious flush that creeps up on her neck. Having so many eyes on her makes her feel vulnerable enough, but combined with the fact she has a huge brace on her leg and she’s walking around with crutches? She feels uncomfortable, like she’s a pacing animal behind bars in the zoo.

“Ready?” Paige murmurs, stepping up behind her, pressing her free hand to the palm of Tess’s back. The touch comforts her slightly, but only because she’s accustomed to Paige right now and because they’re in this together. Tess gives her a solid nod, tightening her hands around the bars of her crutches. The blonde moves her hand down to her hip to give her a reassuring squeeze before placing it at the center of her back. Paige leads them into the airport, though she leans down, her mouth close to Tess’s ear as she whispers. “We shoulda talked about this earlier, but…what’s on and off limits right now?”

Tess swallows, trying to ignore the nerves. “Just do whatever feels right,” she answers honestly. “The media knows we just spent three days together, right? Don’t overthink it. I’m your girlfriend sending you off at the airport. Make it look like that and not two strangers trying to look the part.”

Paige grins insufferably at her. “Aw, I think that’s the first time you claimed me,” she says. Tess rolls her eyes, tempted to swat her with her crutch, but decides against it. The last thing she needs is Paige tripping and fucking up her knee even more. “So…nothing's off limits?”

“You wanna kiss me so bad you look stupid,” Tess says, nudging Paige with her elbow. From the corner of her eye, she can see the phone camera pointed at them, so she swallows her pride and looks up to Paige with a grin. “I think we should hug for sure. Anything else is too soon...like I said, we've spent three days together. I don't U-Haul.”

“Fine by me,” Paige says, looking far too comfortable as she walks through the airport. “Don't wanna do nothing you're uncomfortable with. Even if it would break the Internet. I know you like that shit.” Tess shrugs, but she was pleased with the media’s reaction so far. Between the two of them, Paige was definitely the menace and chaos-monger, although Tess enjoyed setting a fire once in a while. They finally reach Paige’s terminal and she leaves Tess’s side long enough to check in at the counter.

While she’s gone, a teenage girl approaches Tess with a shy expression, phone clutched in hand. “Excuse me, are you Tess Kennedy?” she asks.

“Guilty,” Tess jokes, leaning on her healthy leg.

“Do you mind if I get a picture?”

Tess shakes her head, saying, “Not at all,” as she moves to stand next to the girl. She angles the phone and Tess throws up a peace sign, grinning, and she snaps the photo. Before either of them can say anything else, Paige is walking back from the check in counter and the girl looks like she’s about to start doing cartwheels.

“Is that–”

“Unfortunately,” Tess sighs, which makes the girl laugh and Paige narrows her eyes. Remembering where they are, Tess smiles innocently.

“Can I get another picture with the both of you?”

Paige and Tess can’t resist. Paige rarely turns down her supporters in the first place, and all Tess can think about when she’s in these situations is all the times she’s ever met her idols and how it changed her life. Being in a situation to give back to the youth like that is one of the best parts about playing basketball. They pose on either side of the teenager as she takes the photo, and after quick hugs and a lot of gratitude, Paige and Tess are left alone.

Tess checks the time, realizing that Paige is boarding soon. The overhead PA confirms as much and Paige glances at Tess once more, hiking her carry-on bag higher on her shoulder. “You gonna miss me?” she asks teasingly, and Tess taps her chin, thinking.

“Hmm,” she ponders. “Not one bit.”

“You will,” Paige says confidently. “I got motion like that.” Tess rolls her eyes, unable to curb the warm fondness in her chest. She just pretends like it doesn’t exist. “Make sure you eat, alright? And go to PT. And be real with your therapist. Lemme hear you’re bein’ irresponsible and I’ll fly back down to set you straight.”

“Yes, Paige. Anything else?”

Paige shrugs, an easy smile on her face. “I know you pretend like you’ont like me, but I had fun with you. Even when you were mean.”

“Not mean,” Tess argues weakly. She can’t hide how touched she is by Paige’s words. “Just trying to keep your ego at a reasonable level.”

“Whatever you say, ma,” the blonde concedes. She opens her arms and Tess forgets all about the media, their story, whatever it is they’re supposed to be pretending to do as she wraps her arms around Paige’s waist. She could care less about the cameras, about the social media explosion they’re undoubtedly causing. Paige’s hands are warm on her back and her perfume makes Tess’s head spin. “Gimme a call if you need anything, I mean it. Don’t try to do this by yourself. Promise me.”

“Promise,” Tess vows. Paige pulls back ever so slightly, her eyes studying Tess’s face as her hands slide down her back, resting on her hips. Paige smiles at her and gives her a gentle squeeze before pulling away completely. She and Paige are both flushed, though the red creeping up Tess’s neck feels strangely like embarrassment.

“Call you when I land?” she asks quietly. Tess nods, forcing a smile, and they share their final goodbyes before Paige walks away.

Tess watches as she goes, suddenly hyper aware of the cameras and the crowd, and she holds back a sigh. She needs to get it together. None of that was real. She’s just a mess emotionally, touch-starved after a month-long crash out, and she’s letting it get to her head. She’ll feel more regulated after a nap and some stretches.

Hopefully.

[moonlight-records]

Take a break | LS2

pairing: logan sargent x reader

summary: its launch day for williams and your boyfriend so overwhelmed and tired you decide to give him a quick pick me up

warnings: smut: oral (f & m receiving), sorta sub!logan & dom!reader, no protection (wrap your willy sillies!), praise kink, breath play (didn't intend for that one), breeding kink, basically porn with a semi plot??

a/n: uh, haven't written smut in a long time let alone f/m smut so PLEASE be gentle with me here! also i'll admit, writing scene with eating out is NOT my strong suit but i'm trying to get better! again, no proofreading, we die like men!

wc: 2.8K

Launch days were something you weren’t particularly familiar with for a multitude of reasons. The first reason was you hadn’t been a long time fan of F1 as you had recently gotten into the sport a little into the 2023 season more as something to have on in the background. The second reason is because you were so new to this world of motorsports, you had no idea what the pre-season would entail. The third reason is because the only reason you got into the world of F1 was because of your boyfriend, Logan Sargent.

You happened to be on a trip with some friends in Miami even after hearing many horror stories about how Miami usually ruins friendships. That was not you and your friends though. Instead you and your friends had made a very important note to have dedicated alone time so you all didn’t end up kill each other and it was proving to be a great key to this vacation. During your shopping, you had bumped into someone and turned around to apologize the same time Logan did. The two of you laughed and went your separate ways. You had told your friends about the encounter and how you regretted not continuing the conversation but you were too embarrassed. They reassured you that they would find this mysterious blonde man for you.

None of you had to try very hard as you and your friends decided to go to a club Sunday night after the Grand Prix and it just happened to be the same one a lot of the drivers ended up going to. You ran into Logan again, literally, and this time you actually kept the conversation going. One thing lead to another (as well as finding out he was an F1 driver and causing you to go down this rabbit hole to understand his work more) and by summer break you had been on four dates before he officially asked you to be his partner. By winter break, you were comfortable enough for him to announce the relationship and even with the mixed reviews from fans neither of you let it affect your relationship. If anything, it made your relationships stronger. It helped that Alex and Lily were super supportive and helpful the moment you two went public.

Lily especially. She had been nothing but kind and supportive the moment you two went public. She went on about how sweet Logan is and how she was ecstatic for him to finally have met someone who wanted him for him and not because he was a famous world driver. She was also over the moon to have a WAG on the team (yes she even took the time to explain what was a WAG was to you) and that she finally had someone to sit with during races and chat with during events like this.

Which is how you found yourself sorta following Lily around like a lost puppy to really grasp the rope of things before the two of you found yourself huddled together as the launch happened. It was fun. There was a kid named William outside with a sign that said ‘My name is William too!’ They actually brought him in for the launch and even had him sit in the car. You smiled seeing the kid beam at the two of them and Logan happily chatting with him when he wasn’t pulled away to be in front of the camera.

After the launch, Alex and Logan were heading down to Central Park to continue filming so you and Lily decided to have a little afternoon together. You two went shopping, had lunch, and just explored as the two of you chatted about anything and everything. You guys were stopped a bit for pictures, which was expected with Lily, but you? That surprised you but also warmed your heart and you happily took the photos. Then you two arrived at the hotel and parted ways before the meet and greet where you’d probably be off to the side with her once again just watching and interacting with fans.

You were mindlessly flipping through channels on the TV when you heard a faint whirling noise before the door was opened. Looking over you saw your boyfriend and a smile tugged to your lips. Shifting, you sit next on the edge of the bed as Logan comes padding over. The smile turns into a small frown seeing the state of him. “You okay?” You ask. He grunts in response as he stands between your legs and you rub his arms soothingly.

“Come sit,” you gently pull Logan down next to you. Immediately, the American is pulling you into his lap and burying his face into your neck. Running your fingers through his hair, you kiss his temple gentle as he grumbles about how long days like this were and how tiring they were and he wanted nothing more than to stay here. You bit your lip gentle wanting to reassure him that it would be over soon but knew he had so much more socializing to do and he was near his wits end.

Then, an idea hit you.

“Tell me more,” you comment as you wiggle out of his lap and kneel behind him to give him a massage. You feel him relax under your touch and you smile gently as you continue. It’s a nice gesture but it’s mainly a distraction. When he’s relaxed enough you pull away as he continues to ramble as you slide off the bed and move to stand between his legs. Gently pushing him on the bed Logan’s let out a small huff of a laugh as he tosses an arm over his eyes. Perfect. Stripping out of your pants and panties, you crawl onto the bed and swat his arm away. The second his arm is to his side you’re swinging a leg over, trapping his head between his thighs and sitting down.

It takes a millisecond for Logan to realize what’s going on before you groan feeling his tongue on your clit. Your hands fly to his hair for purchase as he happily runs his tongue over your clit. Long slow strokes before short kitten licks. It sends a shiver of pleasure up your body as you buck your hips forward. His hands quickly find your thighs gripping tightly as he traps you. You tilt your head back groaning loudly as you roll your hips as you two find your rhythm quickly since Logan loves being between your thighs.

You let praises fall from your lips between the moans and gasps falling from your face. It should be illegal with how good Logan is from your clit to your cunt as he opens you up with his tongue. Even though you guys haven’t been together for long he had made it his mission to learn your body inside and out. How you liked him switching between slow licks and fast licks. How your eyes rolled when he teased your clit with circles before sucking. How your hips bucked when he slipped his tongue in and slowly fucked you open. How if he tilted his head back just enough he could get deeper brushing against your g-spot, causing you to throw your head back and let out the most delicious sounds. How if he switched the routine up it drove you mad and close to your orgasm which he was very much intending to do but that’s not on your agenda.

Your chest was heaving as you felt the familiar coil starting to form in your abdomen. You force yourself to let go of his hair to wedge your fingers under his and pries his hands off your thighs before you lift yourself up. Looking down, you wish you could take a picture but a mental one will do. Logan’s hair was wild against the sheets, eyes wide and pupils blown. His face was flushed a beautiful shade of pink and his mouth and chin was shiny with your juices. His fingers twitched in your hands as he stared up at you neither one daring to move as he whines. He became such a beautiful mess so quickly for you.

“Yes?”

“I need—” he gulps slightly.

“You need what?” You tease.

His mouth opens and then closes as he tries to find the words. You know exactly what he wants and you’re tempted to give it to him, “stay,” you command as your grip on his hands loosens so you can easily move off of him and slink off the bed and onto the floor.

“Sit up,” you say while stroking the inside of his thigh and he does looking down at you. Looking up at him, you wrap your lips around the tip of his cock and he groans tipping his head back slightly. You swirl your tongue around the tip before flattening your tongue along the underside of his cock. Hallowing your cheeks, you start to bob your head. You watch his hands start to go to your hair but stop knowing better than to touch without permission so he grabs the sheets as if it’s a life line. You place your hands on his thighs to steady yourself as you continue prepping yourself. He’s babbling above you begging for more. He’s not specific with what he wants but that’s typical for him.

When you’re relaxed you happily take him down your throat, nose against his navel, and Logan throws his head back letting out a moan. Internally, you smirk at how loud he was. Usually he tried to be reserved and letting himself be focused on your pleasure but today was about him. You pull off to the tip before going straight back down and he tenses to keep himself still knuckles white from how hard he was holding onto the sheets. You continue for a bit longer before you pull off with a pop before standing.

“Lay down,” you say gesturing to the pillows and Logan scrambles laying on his back as his head hits the pillow. You wince for him since he was so close to hitting the headboard but it was a miracle he didn’t. That would’ve been one way to kill the mood and end the day for sure. Getting onto the bed, you straddle your boyfriend who’s breathing heavily from anticipation. Smirking at the mess you’ve already made of him, you grab the base of his cock and line yourself up before sliding down.

In unison you both groan as you put your hands on his chest for leverage. Once you’re bottomed out you take a moment to adjust. You start to move your hips in small circles sucking your bottom lip between your teeth as Logan turns his head to the side, groaning again.

“Babe I—”

“Shhh, I know. It’s okay,” you murmur as you run your hands over his chest, “I got you. Just lay there and let me hear all your pretty noises. Can you do that for me?”

Logan whines in response again.

“Logan.”

“Yes,” he breaths out, “Yes I—I can do that.”

“Good boy.”

Raising your hips you sink back down and tilt your head back. It’s been a while since you two have actually had time to have sex and it felt like the first time all over again. Just with how well he filled you up and it felt like a punch to the gut (pun intended…maybe). You start out with this slow rhythm hearing how Logan groaned and moaned under you whining and asking for more.

You work yourself on his cock picking up the pace as you go. You lean back, gasping at the new angle as your hands find purchase on his thighs. “Oh fuck—” you manage out between the moans. “Yes, fuck yes baby so good.” You ramble on as his head tosses to the side, hands gripping the pillows, the sheets, anything that isn’t you.

“I—fuck babe—please—” Logan gasps.

“Please what?”

“Let me touch you. Fuck. Babe. Please. Please please please,” he begs, “need to touch you. Please, shit, babe you look so good riding me, please,” He begs, “been so good for you.”

“Such a good boy,” you purr out, “okay.”

His hands fly to your hips. His eyes trained on you. How your lips are parted. The slight sweat starting to form on your forehead as your hair sticks to it. How your eyes are fluttering close.

“Let me move. Please baby,” he begs, “you’ve done so much work,” he’s rambling, “wanna make you feel good. Please let me make you feel good. God fuck babe I wanna make you feel good.”

You’re lost in your own little world as Logan rambles on. You’re so close of finding that spot and you shift to lean forward, hands back on his chest. One hand fumbles but it covers Logan’s mouth as you continue, slamming your hips down on him. Your eyes go wide and you see stars when you find it, throwing your head back as you continue. “Fuck—oh right there. Shit—” you moan out as you fall into an endless cycle of moans, groans, and cursing. You can feel Logan’s lips against your hand still moving but between your own noises and the absolutely filthy obscene noises you two were making it was drowned out.

Your body is on fire. Your legs are straining and you’re getting tired but you continue. You feel the coil forming once again and your hand drops to Logan’s throat as you wrap your hand around, squeezing slightly. He lets out a strangled gasp mostly out of shock before he moans. “You—fuck—” you breath heavily, “yes move.”

Logan did not need to be told twice. Gripping your hips tight enough that will surely leave bruises, not that you really minded, he snapped his hips up when you came down. You screamed - you’re pretty sure you did but you can’t be quiet to sure with the stars you were seeing and everything else drowning out expect Logan’s voice. He’s thanking you over and over, telling you how amazing you are and how you treat him so so well. He matches your pace and you can’t even prepare yourself as your orgasm is ripped out of you.

You grip his throat tighter and he lets out another strangled groan. Your body shakes as you continue riding him babbling about how good he’s fucking you, how pretty he is like this, how only you get to see him like this, and how only you can make him feel this good. He’s trying to speak but it’s hard and you manage to loosen your grip. He gasps for air before the words are slipping past his lips.

“Please. Oh god please let me cum. Please I’m so—I’m so fucking close. Babe. I need—” he chokes on air as tears form, “god please.”

You feel limp. You’ve slowed your own pace down but he continues with the pace. You manage an ‘yes, you can cum’ through moans and whines. It takes three more thrust before Logan’s spilling into you, head thrown back and groaning loudly as his eyes roll in the back of his head slightly. He continues to fuck you through his own orgasm before he finally comes down.

You’re both shaking slightly at this point. You force yourself to pull off of him, feeling his cum ooze out of you as you end up collapsing on top of Logan as the two of you catch your breath. Moving his hands to your hips, he gently massages them as he kisses the top of your head. You let your eyes slip close as your breathing returns to normal smiling to yourself as you listen to his heartbeat. “Better?” You ask finally breaking the comfortable silence.

“Much better. Thank you babe, I really needed that,” he says and plants a soft kiss to your hair.

“Of course. You know all you have to do is ask.”

Logan huffs a laugh out which earns an eye roll out of you. You turn your head so you can look at him and he’s smiling at you, leaning down to kiss your nose as you wiggle it. “I know,” he says, “I’m…working on it.”

“I know, and I’m proud. But with a schedule like this you have to be more keen on making sure you’re okay. Really.”

“I know. I know,” he nods as he speaks, “now come on, we gotta get cleaned up so we can go to dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“Yeah,” Logan blinks, “the meet and greet starts at six. So I thought we could grab an early dinner at a little mom and pops diner I found. Come on,” he gently sits up with you still on his chest. You squeak when he’s got his arms under your ass and shifting before you two are standing legs instinctively wrapping around his waist with a grin, “I’m paying this time.”

“You paid last time!” You argue as he laughs taking you both to the bathroom to get clean before dinner.

[just--vi]

2024 in Fanfic

In 2023 I wrote 185,542 words, and in 2024 I wrote 185,996, so at least I'm consistent?

I think it's interesting to look back at my 'goals' of 2024: Write something other than a Muggle AU (failed), convince everyone to ship Moonchaser (halfway there), write more smut (nailed it), read more (honestly, kind of nailed that too).

In 2025 I want to care less, write whatever I want, finally get that Armageddon AU out, and read ~even more~.

Anyway, here's what I did this year!

For the Love of Ducks - Wolfstar, started in 2023, finished in 2024.

Remus Lupin has always been sick, and he'd just like to feel normal for once. Sirius Black seems like the perfect man with a perfect, exciting life.

The Art of Getting Off - Jegulus

Regulus is a demisexual romance author who has one big hangup: Smut. After a mountain of bad reviews on his latest novel, an awkward meeting with his publisher, and a conversation with Remus, he decides to take the leap. Unfortunately the only person he really wants to sleep with is James Potter. Alternative title: "The art of fucking your brother's best friend six ways from Sunday without falling in love in the process."

Happily Never After - Jegulus

It’s a flurry of limbs. James doesn’t waste a second pulling him inside - or maybe that’s for practicality sake. If Sirius saw them together he’d lose it on account of them being them, and if Remus saw them together he’d lose it on account of it being the night before his wedding. Or, Regulus and James are friends with benefits. All hell breaks loose.

And They Were Roommates! - Wolfstar

Sirius scoffs, and when Remus doesn’t turn around to look at him says, “Face it Moony, you’re drying up. You need me.” “What?” Remus laughs tightly, squirting an aggressive amount of soap in the sink and twisting the tap with a little more viciously than it probably deserves. “So, you’re planning on playing wingman all night?” “Yep,” Sirius says, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis. “And you’ll play wingman for me. It’ll be perfect.” Or, living with Remus Lupin is torture. Thankfully, Sirius has a plan to address the tension.

Deerly Beloved - Prongsfoot

Over a night in the pub a series of escalating dares result in Sirius and James waking up married. It should be quick and easy to fix the mistake by getting an annulment, so why are they dragging their feet?

Love at First Bloom - Wolfstar

Remus Lupin took over his mother's flower shop after the passing of his parents. Now, he splits his time between catering to the floral needs of sleepy Hogsmeade village and pining helplessly over the devastatingly handsome man who buys weekly arrangements for his boyfriend.

Wreck the Halls - Jegulus

When Regulus is invited to spend Christmas with Sirius and the Potters, the last thing he expects is for James to bring a brand new boyfriend home for the holidays.

[moonhoures]

One Night Stand

🕷️ kinktober — day 2: anonymous sex / roleplay 🕸️

pairing: hoshi (svt) + reader (afab/fem)

genre: non-idol!au, fluff, smut

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, explicit smut, established relationship, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, quick mention of spitting on a dick, pet name: ‘gorgeous’ (for reader), creampie, roleplay, anonymous (?) sex

word count: ~2.5k

synopsis: you and hoshi have been married for a few years now. to keep the spark between you two alive, you decide to go out and have a one night stand

a/n: writing this nearly made me a hoshi stan so i hope it effects you like it did me. enjoy <3

posted: october 2, 2023

kinktober masterlist

Clubs were in your past, or so you had thought. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been in one; it had to be well over five years by now. Dancing and drinking were things you indulged in only on occasion nowadays, rather than every weekend like you used to. Since you finished college and started a steady career, you had slowed down a bit, even more so when you got in a serious relationship with your now-husband, Soonyoung.

Your husband was far from boring or conservative, but you found a comfort in each other that mellowed you two out. A sense of ease came with the normalcy that your relationship provided you. But with that normalcy also came routine. Soonyoung was a co-owner of a dance studio in the city, and you were a higher-up at a local marketing business. He got up at five a.m. to head to the gym before opening the dance studio, and you slept in until seven a.m. to be at work for nine.

The two of you would come home anywhere between five and seven p.m. depending on how busy you were. You enjoyed reading or watching a couple episodes of whatever show you were watching. Soonyoung would come home and review the videos he had taken of his choreography that day, or he would watch other people’s choreographies on social media for inspiration. On most nights, dinner time and the hour or so right before you fell asleep were all you had to be with each other. Your sex life was fine by most standards, but both of you had noticed it had dwindled in the past year or so with your work schedules growing more and more tight.

That’s how you ended up alone at a club one Saturday night. You sat at the bar, a few sips left of your favorite drink in front of you as you people-watched. There was another girl at the opposite end of the bar, probably freshly twenty-one if you had to guess. She was pretty, and she had an equally attractive guy hitting on her. Whatever he was saying was making her laugh, and it made you smile a little, your heart growing warm. You remembered when you were her at one point, years ago. Soonyoung was the guy making you laugh back then, always the best mood maker. You missed those nights.

“Excuse me,” a voice startled you, coming from someone closely behind your shoulder. Your head swiveled to see a man around your age with blond hair and sharp, slightly-slanted, dark eyes. He was around 5’10”, towering over your seated figure. He was dressed in a simple, chic outfit, fit for a night of going out and getting laid—which you assumed was his goal. The low-cut, white tank top he wore that exposed his collarbones certainly gave that impression, “Is this seat taken?”

The man gestured to the seat directly to your right, and you shook your head, “No, go ahead.”

“Are you here by yourself?” he asked as he sat, an almost concerned look in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you admitted, taking a sip from your drink. There was a ring of water left from the glass on the counter.

“Wow,” he smiled incredulously.

“What?”

“I just don’t understand how such a beautiful woman like yourself could be at a place like this alone. Are you waiting for someone?”

You smiled, warmth flooding your cheeks from his flattery, “No, I just came for a good time.”

“And are you? Having a good time, I mean?” he asked.

If you were honest, the answer would be no. You had only been here less than twenty minutes, but the closest thing you had to “fun” so far was the DJ playing your favorite song. You had tried to do some dancing when you first got here, but it felt weird knowing you were by yourself, so you tapped out after two songs.

“No,” you bashfully confessed, averting your gaze to escape the pitiful look he was sure to give you.

“Would you like to dance?”

Why not?

You took the hand he offered you, letting him lead you to the dance floor. And for the first time in years, you let go. You danced to your heart’s content, feeling more carefree and loose than you had felt in a long time. A grin settled on your face as you danced with the man that flipped your night upside down, a wide smile on his lips as he watched you dance with him. At one point you were grinding against him, his arms circling your waist. His forehead was pressed against yours. It felt like you two were the only ones in the room, the two main characters of your own movie while the DJ orchestrated the soundtrack just for you.

“You wanna go back to my place, gorgeous?”

The question was spoken directly into your ear so you could hear over the music, but you would be lying if you said his breath fanning over your neck didn’t make you shiver. Right now you wanted nothing more than to say-

“Yes.”

A ride in his fancy car later, down familiar roads, led you to a nice house right on the outskirts of the city. The man took your hand, your fingers naturally intertwining with his as he took out his keys and smoothly got the front door open for the two of you. He didn’t bother turning any of the lights on as he continued to lead you throughout the home, swiftly moving through the main hallway until he paused. He hesitated, glancing at the closed door to his right. His eyes held a playful look in them when he gazed at you over his shoulder before opening the door and bringing you into the room.

It was a mostly unused room from what you could see, one big, wooden desk was pushed up against the wall with only a laptop, a notebook, and a few assorted pens and pencils strewn on top. Aside from the desk, there was a desk chair, a sofa, a rolled-up yoga mat, and some other small sets of work out gear.

You watched as the man carelessly pushed the notebook and writing utensils to the floor across the room. He at least had a heart to nudge the laptop to the edge of the desk and close it. Before you could say anything, he was using his hands to hoist you up onto the desk, bunching your dress up higher on your thighs as he did.

“Are you always this careless?” you asked him, giving him a pointed look.

He merely shrugged, “It’s my roommate’s stuff anyways.”

You tried to keep your composure as his hands snaked under the edge of your dress, dangerously close to your underwear, “Oh, your roommate, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said absentmindedly, “It’s just shopping lists and stuff. Don’t worry about it.”

A giggle erupted from you as he buried his lips into the space of your neck, pressing kisses and teeth along the skin. It tickled there, and it’s almost like he knew that. While he distracted you, his hands expertly peeled your underwear off, letting them fall at his feet. It wasn’t until your rear was dragged practically off the edge of the desk that you realized how close he was getting to having you. All he needed to do was get his cock out.

“You want this, right?” he asked, looking for consent before going any further. His eyes were warm and genuine meeting yours, but he was met with only a flurry of lust-clouded eyes looking back.

“I need it,” you corrected him, bringing your hand up to the back of his neck. You pulled him in for a fiery kiss, a mesh of tongue and teeth and spit that was so messy but so perfect. He hummed in surprise at the sudden force, but you felt him smile against your lips before his hands reached up to hold your face while he showered you with more kisses.

In the midst of making out, you got ahold of his belt, tugging at the buckle until the leather slipped out of it easily. He grunted into your mouth as you swiftly pulled the belt undone and unzipped his jeans. Your fingers dug into the top of his pants, pushing the denim down, but you were met with a little resistance from his hips.

He took over, pushing the pants down to his ankles before kicking them aside. He then bunched your dress up higher on your waist. Your mouth watered watching him get a grip on his erection, the tip flushed and the shaft decorated with veins. You felt yourself already clenching on nothing, and it only got worse when he let a long glob of his spit fall straight onto his dick. He caught it effortlessly, as if he practiced this multiple times a day, and then used it to lubricate himself for you.

With his hand still pumping his cock, he looked at you, tilting his head just the slightest, “Open up for me.”

You didn’t even need him to elaborate, you simply widened your knees, allowing him to take your thigh in his hand. He held you just like that as he fed the tip of his dick between your folds, a wanton moan involuntarily leaving his lips. As he continued to seat himself inside of you, you held back, biting your lip.

“God, you’re so tight,” he said, tilting his head back before looking back down where you two met. He watched himself slowly pull out before bucking his hips forward again. The desk rattled the tiniest bit, and he loved the sound it made. Some primal part of him wanted to fuck you until the desk broke, but the rational, clear-headed part kept him cool.

His thrusts grew in pace and accuracy, aiming to find your g-spot with every stroke. It only took a few tries before he found it, your eyes nearly rolling back and your jaw going slightly slack when he did. A satisfied grin appeared on his lips, and he continued to thrust in that specific pattern that he pioneered. He held you at the waist, keeping you in the position he wanted as he dove between your hips again and again. The desk was shoved against the wall with every movement, sure to make marks on the pale structure, but neither of you cared enough. It can always be repainted.

“Gonna cum for me, gorgeous? Huh?” he spoke through bated breaths, absolutely eating up the way moans were freely cascading from your mouth as if you couldn’t stop them even if you wanted to. As if he had fucked you into a babbling idiot, “You wanted me to show you a good time. Is this not good enough?”

His voice was patronizing but also as sweet as honey. His hand reached up to cup your cheek, urging you to look him in the eye. But it was difficult to look at him steadily when he was pounding into you the way he was, making your entire body bounce.

“N-no,” you managed to say, “So good. Perfect.”

“Perfect,” he repeated with a short laugh, “That’s right.”

Wood creaked underneath you and thumped against the wall behind you, but the man fucking you still grabbed your thighs, hoisting them up a little. The kisses on your shoulder lightened up as he focused on getting you to finish. He was going to ask if you were close, but when your breath quickened and your lower back arched, he knew he had thirty seconds (tops) to prepare for your orgasm to hit. He kept the same pace and force he had, letting it coax the climax out of you. His pride swelled as he felt you clench on him, multiple times, while you came. Warmth and arousal flooded your core, leaving his cock wet and dripping when he pulled out. A mix of your clear fluid and his creamy seed slathered on him.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, his palm soothing over the skin of your thigh, from your knee down to your hip. He was trying to loosen your legs up so that you could relax, “How was that?”

“You definitely know how to show a girl a good time,” you mumbled, making him laugh.

“Yeah, well, it’s a one-time thing for me, sorry to disappoint.”

You sighed, “I knew it was too good to be true.”

He laughed some more, placing a kiss on your temple before landing a gentle slap on the side of your rear, “Let’s go clean up. Then you’re out of here in the morning.”

You chuckled, letting him help you down onto your feet. The two of you quickly made your way to the bedroom, and he picked out clothes for the both of you to wear before you headed into the shower. After cleaning up, you two got comfortable in the large bed, and he didn’t shy away from spooning with you like you expected him to.

When you woke up the next morning, the space beside you was empty, but the smell of breakfast being cooked wafted down the hall to you. You groaned as you stretched your limbs out, peeling the sheets back so you could get out of bed. Your feet shuffled against the floor all the way to the kitchen where you saw your husband standing at the stove. A towel was draped over his shoulder while he prodded at the bottom of some pancakes with a spatula. You tried to stifle a laugh when you saw his unruly bedhead, but a small squeak escaped you, notifying him of your appearance.

Soonyoung’s face lit up, “Good morning, gorgeous! Sleep well?”

“Sure did,” you smiled, walking up to him so you could give him a morning kiss on his cheek, “You?”

“Like a baby,” he smirked, flipping the pancakes over to reveal perfectly golden, fluffy discs, “Oh, and uh, sorry about the spare room. I’ll clean that up in a bit.”

You rolled your eyes, but your grin remained, “Yeah, just be thankful you didn’t knock over my laptop, or we would have had an issue.”

After a few moments of comfortable silence, only broken by the sound of you gathering plates and cups for you two, Soonyoung spoke up again, “Did you have fun last night?”

“Yeah, I did,” you felt your cheeks grow warm under his glance, recalling what took place in the club and the spare room, “It felt a little weird, but in a really good way.”

“Yeah? How so?” he asked, setting the pancakes on a plate and grabbing a fork for you.

“It felt like we were in college,” you said, leaning your cheek against his arm as you side-hugged him, “It felt like I fell in love with you all over again.”

“Good, that was the point,” he smiled, kissing your temple. He added, “And I did too. Fall in love with you all over again. We should do that again some time.”

“Yeah, we should.”

— taglist #1

@jaylaxies @xiaoting999 @kookthief @zaddywilk @wonrangwoo @pedriswrld @ikykleeknowww @odisdad @abby-grace @jungwonloveer @pinklemonadeflav @celestialplatinum @luvkpopp @nlklstan @kisses4denji @jenos-eye-smiles @a-l-i-y-a @channiesprincess @bekah931215 @mrsdacherry @heerinnie @fairygirl18 @cinnikoi @im-ur-calico-cat @unlikelysublimekryptonite & i’ll tag my fav hoshi stans @hoshiseon and @hoshologies 🖤

[bogleechrss]

I finally saw these in person...but you guys didn't tell me they can TALK! Visit the link for a quick review of other good Joann Fabrics items this year, and my video of the sewing machine's TERRIFYING DIALOG!!! HEAR HER SPEAK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[alexisgentry]

Quick thoughts on The Flash.

Full review on Trashwire.com.