#But I took the last one too late so I’m up for the foreseeable future which is probably not the best for my recovery

[introspectiveextrovertive-blog]

Surprise! Had some time today so here we go. I luhhhhhhh them. Lemme know if you like it <3

Part 7 - As the Snow Falls

Winter – 2021

Azzi watched as the snow billowed down in Storrs outside the physical therapy room window, her leg lifted and resting, the ice on her knee and foot beginning to melt. She had injured her foot last week, unable to play for the foreseeable future.

Her phone lay in her lap, quietly buzzing every so often. In it, held unread text after unread text of friends, teammates, and family offering condolences. She would get to them eventually, she told herself.  

Azzi leaned her head back against the wall behind her, letting her eyes close. Truthfully, she wasn’t sad or mad; she was just numb. Maybe next week she would feel optimistic about the road to recovery, but right now she’d be grateful to feel…anything. 

She felt a hand on her hoodie-covered shoulder and opened her eyes. Paige stood in front of her, eyes bouncing across her face. Azzi liked that they didn’t fall to her raised leg. 

“Hey, Az,” she said softly. 

Azzi closed her eyes again and gave her a small close-lipped smile in greeting. 

Paige’s hand moved, slightly rubbing under Azzi’s ear. Azzi could feel Paige staring at her, but she couldn’t find the energy to open her eyes and stare back. She kept her head leaned back, fingers interlocked in her lap, until she heard a chair scraping on the floor. 

Peering to the side, she watched as Paige wordlessly pulled a chair next to Azzi’s table. Crossing her legs, Paige pulled a book out of her bag, beginning to read. 

Azzi stared, watching as she quietly flipped the pages next to her. Paige did so unhurriedly, looking comfortable and like she had no intention of moving. 

Without looking up from her book, Paige slowly reached up and released Azzi’s hands from their bind, guiding her arm to dangle over the side of the table. Sliding her hand down her arm, she hooked a pinky around Azzi’s. 

I’m here, Paige told her without a word. 

They stayed like that for the next hour, Paige reading in one hand, the other preoccupied with Azzi’s. It made Azzi feel warm and loved, and most of all it made Azzi feel.

She was so grateful for Paige. 

————————————————————————

In the next few weeks, Azzi found herself in the gym late one night. 

Her doctor had cleared her for upper body workouts but told her to be cautious to not cause unneeded stress on her foot fracture. So, she was lifting dumbbells heavier than normal over her head in an Arnold press. 

She watched herself as her biceps flexed in the mirror, a trickle of sweat beginning to fall down her forehead. She felt locked in; she felt in control here. 

“Seven,” she huffed, lifting the dumbbell. Another rep. She needed one more.

“C’mon,” she said to herself. The weight was starting to feel too heavy, her muscles tingling. She stared at herself, stared at her foot in its boot. 

She exhaled, lifting the weights again. “Eight,” she strained, letting the weights fall to the floor as she finished the set. 

Tired now, she let her forearms fall to her knees, head coming down to stare at the floor. Her mind was blank as she breathed. 

She heard a soft thud to her right and looked up. Paige stood in the doorway of the gym, her gym bag on the floor next to her. She leaned against the door frame casually, hands in her sweatpants pockets.

“Sup,” Azzi said, trying to sound light. 

Paige looked her up and down before replying. “Tryna get a lift in before break,” she said nonchalantly, tugging her sweatshirt over her head. The action was swift, but Azzi caught a glimpse of her pale torso as Paige’s shirt lifted. Azzi felt her eyes linger there for a beat too long. 

Azzi leaned back in the bench and wiped her brow. “Oh yeah?” She took a swig of her water bottle. Paige was not a fan of mandatory lift; Azzi knew she’d rather shoot around. 

“Yeah,” Paige said as she sat down on the bench next to Azzi’s, putting down the same weight on the floor Azzi was just lifting. Azzi quirked a brow as she stared at the weights, never seeing Paige lift that much. 

“Three sets, eight reps?” Paige asked, preparing the weights on her knees. Azzi nodded, doing the same. They turned, staring at the other in the mirror for a moment. Azzi knew what Paige was doing – they had each other’s locations, and she wasn’t letting her be alone. 

Azzi gave her a small smile through the mirror. Paige smiled back. 

————————————————————————

Winter break came faster for the pair than anticipated. Being in-season now, their schedules were packed and before they knew it, they were back in Minnesota for the holidays for a brief stint with their families. 

Paige sat at Azzi’s grandparents’ dining table, her and Azzi playing a game of Jenga with Azzi’s family. The girls had their thighs pressed against the other, forearms brushing as they played. Paige found herself ducking to hear Azzi speak even though they were close and it was, technically, highly unnecessary. 

“Get the middle one,” Azzi told her. 

Paige shook her head. “Do you have eyes? It’s going to make the whole thing fall.” 

Azzi rolled her eyes, flicking Paige’s temple, “I’m trying to help you.” 

“You’re praying on my downfall.”

“Drama Queen.” 

They locked eyes for a moment, an intimate smile blooming between them. Paige felt her heartbeat pick up and her body get warm.

Paige’s last few weeks had been interesting, to say the least. What with her sudden clarity on her feelings for Azzi, Azzi’s foot injury, and the season starting, her emotions felt jumbled. She wanted to dissect her feelings and every possible interaction she had ever had with Azzi that had led them to where they are now, but she also had to be there for her best friend, as well as her teammates. To say her realization for her feelings for Azzi came at inopportune timing would be an understatement. 

So, she settled, if it could be called that. She settled for fleeting glances at Azzi, sometimes full-on stares, small touches to ground herself, being near her whenever she could. Because realizing she had feelings for her best friend made something snap within her; she suddenly could not get enough of Azzi Fudd, and it was killing her slowly to pretend otherwise. 

It was hard to navigate, if she were honest with herself. Does she tell Azzi? If she did, how would she react? The two had been so close for so long, lines had been blurred by what was normal and slightly not normal for friends to act around each other a long time ago. Paige had no idea if Azzi reciprocated how she felt. 

And if she didn’t feel the same? Paige contemplated nose diving off the nearest cliff. 

And if Azzi ended up with someone else, ever? Paige would nose dive off the same cliff, with a weighted vest. 

These thoughts kept her up at night, her jaw clenching and unclenching like clockwork. She had no one to talk to about any of it because it involved the one person she confided in for everything, leaving her lost and frustrated. 

So, yes, Paige settled. She settled with sitting so close to Azzi at her grandparents’ dining table she could feel every breath Azzi took, every laugh that shook her, and every sigh that escaped her. 

Being near Azzi was a drug to her, and she was worried she’d never get her fix. 

“It’s your turn,” Azzi nudged her arm, “Pay attention.” 

Right, Paige thought. Pay attention. 

Paige turned to the stacked pieces, a hush falling over the family as she stood slightly and slowly pulled the piece Azzi told her grab earlier. Apparently, she did so unsteadily, because the stack fell apart, splaying out across the table. Paige clicked her tongue and gave Azzi a look as the family let out a chorus of laughs and whoops in the finality of the game. 

“Nice effort, PB. Stick to basketball maybe,” Azzi’s dad chuckled. Paige rolled her eyes.

“Look what you made me do,” Paige said hushed in Azzi’s ear. The younger girl let out an involuntary shudder. 

“Me?” Azzi laughed, “I gave a suggestion, and you acted on it – not my fault.” 

“Right.” Paige leaned back in her chair, throwing an arm around Azzi’s chair, spreading her legs so their knees lightly touched. 

Azzi felt her eyes wander over Paige. She took in her confident position, her strong jaw, her pretty bare face. Pretty, Azzi got stuck on that word. So pretty. 

Azzi let herself register for a moment that she had always thought Paige was really pretty. And confident. And funny. 

She blinked. 

“You look like you just ate a lemon,” Paige leaned over and said in her ear. 

Azzi scrunched her face at her, trying to ignore the blush she felt creeping up on her cheeks. 

“You guys think it’ll be a good season?” Azzi’s grandfather asked the two girls. 

They both nodded enthusiastically. Had they been asked this a few weeks ago when Azzi was first injured, the answer wouldn’t have been as clear. Now that Azzi had been on the mend and they knew her clearance was inevitable, the excitement they felt was palpable. 

“Natty is in our future,” Paige said with a grin. “Going to get my sharp shooter back and we’ll be stacked.” She let her arm drop across Azzi’s shoulder, tugging her closer. 

Azzi felt warmth in her chest at the confidence Paige had in her, and something else. My sharp shooter – Azzi thought it sounded nice. 

“That’s what I like to hear,” Azzi’s grandfather smiled, clapping his hands. 

“Paige is going to terrorize Geno all the way to a national title,” Azzi joked, earning a side smirk from Paige. 

“Obviously.” 

————————————————————————

The next night was Christmas Eve. 

Paige, Azzi, and Paige’s little brother Drew sat far too close together on Paige’s living room couch as they watched Elf, their legs kicked up on the coffee table. A large Christmas tree stood in the corner of the room, twinkling red and green warmly as the only source of light apart from the TV that played.  

Paige’s family’s Christmas tree was not aesthetically decorated like some would prefer, but with memorabilia and trinkets the family had collected over time. Azzi loved it, and it reminded her of her own family tree. Being in Paige’s family home now, she felt at home herself and fondly reflected on how similar her and Paige truly were. 

Drew sat smushed between the two girls, his head drooping on Paige’s chest, him being too small to reach her shoulder. Paige looked down at her younger brother and smiled, “Tired, man?”

Drew nodded sleepily, his eyes already closed. Paige looked over at Azzi, who was watching Drew with a tender smile on her face. Paige wished she could commit this moment to memory; the way Azzi looked so soft and comfortable in her Christmas pajamas, the way she stared at Drew adoringly, the way the Christmas tree glowed behind Azzi, the way all Paige wanted to do was take Drew to bed and kiss her best friend. 

Paige’s jaw clenched. She cleared her throat. 

“Alright buddy,” she said as she scooped Drew up, letting his chin rest on her shoulder, his arms flopping as he let himself become dead weight against his older sister. She held the back of his head and turned to Azzi, “Be right back.” 

Azzi watched as Paige left with her brother, the sight of her carrying him so heartwarming she wanted to hold a hand to her chest. It was almost overwhelming, the feeling. 

So, she stood up, walking over to the Christmas tree and beginning to trace a light finger over the “ornaments”. A photo of Paige chewing her Team USA medallion. A note from Drew scribbled messily, telling his parents he loved them. A candy cane bracelet Paige had made for her dad in the fifth grade. 

She rested on a hanging photo of her and Paige, feeling touched to be included on the family tree. The picture was of them after they had gotten back from USA basketball camp; they’d just landed in the airport after discovering they were both headed back to Minnesota, and Paige had whipped out her phone to take a selfie with her new friend. They had smiled into the camera, their temples touching, an unbreakable bond already forming. Looking at the photo now, Azzi couldn’t help smiling to herself. 

She heard Paige enter the room again, coming up behind her. Paige’s chest ghosting over her back. “He’s a menace,” Paige mumbled over Azzi’s shoulder, “Refused to brush his teeth until I threatened to tell dad.” 

Azzi chuckled without taking her eyes off the picture she held. She held it higher for Paige to look with her. 

“We were babies,” Azzi said softly. 

Paige smiled and her eyes bounced between the photo and Azzi’s profile. “Babies,” she agreed quietly. 

Azzi turned her head slightly and her and Paige seemed stuck staring at each other; caught in a silence neither was ready to break. She watched as Paige’s eyes softened, and she thought she’d never seen her look at her like this, and then about how good it felt. Good in a way she wasn’t used to, and she found her mouth going dry. Was she getting closer to Paige’s face? 

Azzi sharply turned her head, focusing back on the tree, staring at anything other than Paige. She felt her grip tighten on the picture in her hand. 

“Yeah,” she said, voice cracking slightly, “Can’t believe you roped me into becoming best friends.” She let out a weak laugh. 

Paige was quiet for a moment, watching her.  She raised her hand as if to touch Azzi’s back, but thought against it, letting her arm drop. She exhaled, closing her eyes. “Yeah,” she said, “Five years later, who would’ve thought.” 

Azzi turned then, pointing a finger in Paige’s face, attempting to look stern, “Don’t open my present until tomorrow morning, I mean it.” 

Paige smiled at her then, tilting her head, hands finding themselves in her pockets as she rocked a little on her heels, “Fine, but you can’t either. I mean it.” 

When the next morning rolled around and Paige opened the gift under her tree that Azzi had left wrapped for her, she found herself smiling stupidly at the Love & Basketball movie poster she’d been eyeing online to hang in her room back at school. New crocs with purple accessories to go with her other ones, and a pajama set so they could match together. Paige could laugh at how well Azzi knew her. She could also punch a wall at how badly she wanted to hold her. 

And when Azzi opened Paige’s gift to her, her heart slightly faltered. Paige had addressed it to “My Sharp Shooter” and wrapped up an assortment of Azzi’s favorite snacks she ate when she first got injured all those years ago, along with about 5 new books and trinkets to adorn on her car keys and litter around her room. Sifting through the box she found a note that read in Paige’s handwriting “Thinking of you always”. 

Azzi thought then, she’d never met anyone who cared for and knew her in the way Paige did. Her heart felt about ten sizes too big for her chest, and she had to excused herself from her family to collect herself. She thought maybe she was coming down with a fever.

Because the way she was starting to feel about Paige was not how people feel about their best friend. And it terrified her.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Inside｡⋆.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x plus size reader

You’ve never been raw-dogged and filled before, Simon wants to change that

Warnings: SMUT, mentions of drinking and eating food from the ground, power imbalance, unprotected sex, creampie (obvi), clothed man/unclothed woman, a little ass smacking, cockwarming, bit of an ownership kink and possessive!Ghost, lots of swearing WC: 2k Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Stakeouts were boring on the best of days, but add in the fact that your partner for the foreseeable future was a brick wall who absolutely refused to make any sort of conversation, you were dying. If you had been stationed with Gaz or Soap, hell even Price, you could have had some entertainment as you sat on the metal folding chair and watched an empty apartment.

But Ghost was nothing if not exceedingly capable of subverting your expectations.

“You ever try buzzballz?” You shifted on your seat, trying to get your numb ass to wake up.

Simon didn’t even look at you.

“Thought not. You’re more of a bourbon guy or beer, but that’s kinda lame.” He grunted under his breath, you took that as affirmation. “Anyways, after that last mission, Soap somehow got his grubby hands on a few of the big ones which are the equivalent of like 12 shots and I’m telling you, they were fucking florescent blue. My tongue was stained the next day.”

He reached for the pack of chewing tobacco in his vest pocket, an unfortunate solution to not being able to go for a smoke any time he needed to. You unconsciously watched his gloved fingers poke through the pocket before catching yourself and turning back to the grimy window you had been previously staring out of.

“But I don’t even know what was in those drinks because suddenly, it’s midnight and this fucker is telling me about how creampies are the best feeling in the world. And I know we’re teammates and we’ve literally seen each other naked in those communal showers on base but somehow that was just a step too far y’a know.” You don’t notice the way your companion stiffened.

“And it was totally gross! Like I have seen that man scarf a sausage that had been on the ground for god knows how long so I can’t imagine that getting creampied would be that pleasant if he’s so obsessed with it. I just can’t even imagine the cleanup either! It would be-“

“’S nice.”

Your head snapped to look over at Ghost so quickly that your neck popped. “What.”

He cleared his throat, brown eyes still staring straight ahead though you suspected he wasn’t looking for the target. “Said ’s nice, cummin’ in someone I mean.” Your face must’ve been shocked as all hell because he finally looked at you, his already dark eyes now voids behind the skull mask. “Feels good. Really fuckin good.”

Heat exploded across your cheeks, his voice was deeper than it normally was, with a rasp that went directly to your center. 

“I’ve never…” 

He huffed under his breath something akin to a laugh, it was almost mocking. “Figured.”

You forced yourself to look back out the window, even as the thrumming between your legs got worse with every tension-filled second that passed. Ghost was as sexy as he was mysterious; towering over everyone in your squad, there was no question the man was big and you, in some demented part of your brain, wondered if it was proportional. You had never even seen his face but it was often his voice, his hands, that fueled your late night fantasies alone in your bunk.

And you suspected that he knew, especially right now.

“Gets so hot, and tight, feels like your markin ‘er from the inside. Ya keep yourself in as deep as possible as she’s fightin cause it’s too much, but ya keep going.” You tried to swallow down the lump in your throat, but instead it slipped quietly from your lips— a whimper sliced through the dingy apartment, and Simon kept talking.

“Ya go till it hurts, fucking it back in and then yer ready to go again… and again… till she can’t even scream anymore. and you’ve stained the sheets beneath you” You gripped the material of your pants so tightly, they would rip if you suddenly jerked. He must’ve known what he was doing to you, but nothing about the way he was slumped down in his own chair, eyes forward, fingers lazily tracing the seam of his kevlar vest said ‘I want to fuck you into the ground too’.

“I could show ya, not much else to do right now.” Your breath caught as he laid a large hand onto your plump thigh, well that definitely screamed it. 

“Lt-“

“I’ll keep watch, you just need to bounce. You’ll be good and do that fer me won’t you soldier, so I can show you how good it feels.” Like a trance had come over you, you rose from the seat, your fingers flying to the buckle of your belt as Simon’s hand curved around to the fat of your ass.

“You sure it’ll feel good?” His mask remained blank but the way his grip on you tightened and his thick thighs spread told you everything you needed to know. 

“Why are you questioning me when I gave you an order, soldier?” His own belt popped open with a clink and the zipper of his fly slid down, letting you catch a glimpse of what you had been craving so badly. 

“Sorry sir.” The words were spit out just like they had been trained to, earning a slightly less displeased huff from your superior. You kicked off your already unlaced boots having undone them the moment you got into the apartment and soon your pants and panties joined the ever-growing pile of your clothes.

“And the top.” He growled, squeezing the mass of his cock. “Doing this fer you, remember.” You nodded and yanked off the t-shirt you were all-too-glad to get rid of, leaving you standing before him just in your ratty sports bra that did very little to contain your tits.

Simon’s breath shuddered before he gestured to the thick material. “Yessir.” You threw it to the side, finally leaving yourself bare to his molten gaze. Your arms itched to cover the expanse of your curves but your mind refused to disobey, even as the man before you froze save for the heaving of his massive chest.

He studied every inch of you, from the seam where your thighs met to the plushness of your plump stomach, from your strong arms to the way your tits sat just waiting for his touch. You watched with the keen eye of a sniper as his bare forearm tensed and released, the tendons working as he squeezed himself over the material of his pants.

“Can we start sir?” You dared to ask, half-expecting an immediate rejection, but he just chuffed and pulled himself from the open fly.

“Damn impatient thing.” To say he was big was an insult— he was monstrous. Thick and uncut with a dense thatch of hair that you knew would scrape against your clit perfectly when he was buried to the hilt inside of you. A bead of hazy liquid builds on the very tip of his substantial length and you wondered briefly how white-hot it would feel when it was inside of you.

“Gettin’ cold here soldier.” His thighs spread apart even wider, enticing you to come closer. You wanted to ask if it would even fit but you doubted it would make a difference. 

The muscles of his shoulders just barely gave way as you gripped onto them, your nails digging in deep as you swung a leg over his bulky hips, settling onto his lap. His cock rested between you, nestled against the softness of your cunt, getting wetter with your combined arousal. His eyes sparkled while he watched you slowly get comfortable with the feel of him.

“C’mon angel, don’t have all day. Price ’s coming to relieve us at 0300 and I’ll need at least two rounds outta you.” You were jolted forwards by his leg shoving you up, making you hover over his head.

Shoving a shaking hand between your bodies, you took ahold of him and lined him up with your dripping entrance. A worried breath escaped you and then, you sank down, swallowing him whole. 

“Fuuuuuuck.”He hissed through his teeth while all words vanished from your mind. It burned and ripped through you but nothing had ever felt as good as this, like his cock was perfectly tailored to fill you up just the way you needed it. Simon’s hands flew to your wide hips, gripping them with just force that you knew there would be ugly-looking bruises you’d have to explain away later.

His hips canted up, unable to stop himself from forcing himself even deeper, chasing the tightness of your cunt. “Si.” You sighed, head falling to the crook of his neck, earning you another punch upwards.

“Takin’ it so fuckin well, knew you fuckin would. Made fer my fuckin cock weren’t ya. Shoulda done this the first time ya looked at me with those fuckin eyes.” His accent grew deeper with every thrust, his words getting more and more unintelligible as your joint pleasures mounted.

You slammed your hips down with as much force as you could muster, desperately trying to meet his brutal pace, earning a muffled groan of approval. A gloved palm met your bare ass with a harsh slap, forcing a loud moan from you. 

“That’s it angel. Just needed to be properly fucked didn’t ya? All quiet now, my perfect little soldier.” Your teeth sank into his neck as the knot in your stomach wound tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable. “So close ain’t ya, need that little bit more.”

“Please Si, please.” He immediately shoved your legs further apart to fit his hand between you, the pads of his index and middle fingers finding your throbbing clit as his cock hammered against your g-spot.

With only two jerky circles, you shattered above him. You back bowed as your forced yourself down to the hilt, you pussy rippling around him while Simon struggled to fuck you through your high. 

“Gonna make me cum angel. Gonna show you how good it fuckin feels to be filled.” His thrusts grew sloppy but his words continued to spill out of his mouth almost involuntarily at this point. “Mark you as fuckin mine.” He snarled.

Your body shook with the power of him, it took all your strength just to take it, let him use and fill you. His cock started to twitch inside of you threateningly. You wanted him to do it, to prove to you how good it felt to be owned from the inside.

“Cum inside, wanna feel all of you.” Your lips brushed against where his ear was beneath the mask, your breath sending goosebumps all over his body. “Make me yours.”

His muscles seized below your palms, rippling and moving so beautifully that you never wanted it to end. He buried himself all the way inside you as he let out a beautiful, raspy moan. Heat exploded deep inside of you, spreading through your veins like a hot bath on a cold winter's day. The feeling of his so deep within you as his cock began to soften was unlike anything you had experienced before and suddenly you knew why the Scot was so obsessed with it.

Simon finally went limp below you, though made no move to remove you from his lap nor your cunt from around his cock. You settled against his chest, now overly aware of your nakedness and the fact that he was still fully clothed, including that stupid skull mask, though you weren’t wholly opposed to it. His arms encircled you, jerking you a bit as he did something behind your back before he hugged you close.

“Look at me angel.” Your hazy gaze turned upwards, meeting the intoxicating brown of his irises. A now bare hand cupped the fat of your cheek, his thumb coming to rest on the curve beneath your eye. “We’re doing this again, over and over until even Soap-“ He spat his name like it was an insult, “-knows exactly who ya belong to. You’re gonna always be dripping with me. Understood?”

“Yes sir.” You murmured, exhaustion closing in on you.

“Good girl. Now get some shut eye, ain’t done with you yet.”

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[charliedaltonswife]

could we maybe get a part two to “an education in loathing….?” the sizzling tension, the hatred, the quippy remarks OOOO i loved it. maybe the two get assigned as partners for a project (or something??? idk??) and a late night argument finally boils over into something smutty…if you feel comfortable writing that….

An Education in Loathing - Pt 2

Henry Winter x reader (The Secret History)

soooo, went overboard with this one, high word count, um gets heated....

Summary: read the request

Warnings: far from none. S.M.U.T. do with that what you will

master list found here

You begged, as in got down on your knees and hands clutching together in prayer type begged, for anyone in the group to switch with you in this stupid project. But to no avail. 

You should have seen it coming. The way the universe seemed to take particular delight in your suffering, in orchestrating your life like a Greek tragedy, the fates snipping their shears with barely concealed amusement. Of course it had to be Henry.

Julian had announced the project with a kind of airy indifference, as if he weren’t about to ruin your entire semester. A “joint exploration of classical interpretations,” he had called it, pairing each of you off with someone to work through the assignment together. A “reward,” he had added, as if being shackled to Henry Winter for the foreseeable future was anything short of divine punishment.

Now, here you were, sitting across from him in the library’s dim back corner, trying not to succumb to the overwhelming urge to either strangle him or fling yourself dramatically out of the nearest window.

Henry, of course, looked perfectly unbothered. His long fingers turned a page of De Anima with excruciating slowness, his expression unreadable. The lamplight cast deep shadows across his face, sharpening the angles of his cheekbones, his jaw. He looked like some archaic statue came to life, some smug, superior deity sent to torment you.

“I suppose we should begin,” you said, barely keeping the venom from your voice.

Henry didn’t even glance up. “By all means.”

Your nails dug into the paper in front of you. “Well, seeing as you have no original thoughts of your own, why don’t you start by parroting whatever Julian has spoon-fed you on the subject?”

He made a quiet, amused sound, finally lifting his gaze. “Charming,” he murmured, setting the book down. “I see you’ve elected to be insufferable tonight.”

“You bring out the best in me.”

“I’ve noticed.”

You gritted your teeth, trying not to let him see the way he got under your skin. If you let him have that, you’d already lost.

“We could always divide the work,” you said, feigning a pleasant tone. “That way, I don’t have to suffer through your droning monologues, and you don’t have to endure my… how did you put it last time? ‘Exhausting need to contradict everything you say’?”

Henry leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other, utterly at ease. “No,” he said simply.

You blinked. “No?”

“I don’t trust you to do it properly.”

You let out a sharp breath of laughter. “Oh, I’m the one who can’t do it properly?”

“Yes.”

You wanted to throw something at him. Preferably something heavy. “And why, exactly, is that?”

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering. “You’re impulsive.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And you’re a condescending bastard, but we all have our flaws, don’t we?”

His mouth twitched. “The difference is that I’m right.”

“Oh, you are so-” You cut yourself off, inhaling sharply through your nose. You refused to let him rile you up this early. You had to pace yourself. If you let the irritation take over now, you’d never survive the night.

Instead, you took a slow sip of your coffee, schooling your expression into one of disinterest. “Fine,” you said at last. “Since you’re clearly too much of a control freak to work separately, we’ll suffer through this together. But I swear to God, Henry, if you correct me one more time on things I already know-”

“You’ll what?” His voice was almost amused.

You leaned forward slightly, voice dropping into something slow and deliberate. “I’ll smother you in your sleep and burn all of your books.”

Henry regarded you for a moment, gaze flickering over your face, before he exhaled a quiet laugh. “It’s adorable that you think you could.”

You stared at him, and there was something taut in the air between you, something sharp and charged. You could feel it, a tension neither of you wanted to acknowledge but both of you were utterly ensnared by.

Finally, you forced yourself to look away, reaching for your pen with more force than necessary. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Henry smirked, but he, too, returned to the task at hand.

-

The problem with Henry Winter, you had learned, was not simply that he was insufferable. It was that he was insufferable with such careful precision, such cruel artistry, that you sometimes suspected he did it on purpose, the way a cat will toy with a half-dead bird. That he liked needling you, watching the slow build of frustration, the way you burned under his gaze.

However, you found yourself in his apartment, not exactly what you’d expected; cold, austere, and far too tidy. Books lined the walls in obsessive, precise order, not a single one askew. A small fireplace, unlit, and the smell of something faintly metallic in the air, like old paper and ink.

You had known from the start this was a mistake.

“You could at least pretend to be a gracious host,” you muttered, dropping your bag onto the armchair nearest to the desk. “It wouldn’t kill you.”

Henry didn’t glance up from where he was pouring over a text, one hand idly at his temple. “I didn’t invite you here for pleasantries.”

You scoffed, taking a seat opposite him. “No, you invited me here because Julian gave us this absurd assignment, and unfortunately, you are stuck with me.”

“I wouldn’t say it's unfortunate.” His voice was mild, but there was something in it, something you didn’t trust.

You ignored it. “Let’s just get this over with.”

He hummed, leaning back slightly. “You’re in a mood.”

“You put me in a mood,” you retorted, flipping open your notes. “Now, are we discussing the comparative mythology of Orpheus, or are we going to sit here and psychoanalyze my temperament?”

Henry exhaled sharply through his nose, his version of a laugh. “The former, obviously.” He turned a page. “Though your temperament is certainly interesting.”

You gave him a sharp look. “Don’t.”

He smirked, and you hated how he did it, so subtle, so knowing. Like he had already won. “As you wish.”

For a while, you managed to focus. Or at least, you tried to. But Henry had a way of getting under your skin, his presence coiling around your thoughts like smoke, making it impossible to concentrate. And of course, he was unbearable, correcting your phrasing, sighing pointedly whenever you said something he found lacking.

Eventually, the digs began. As they always did. Thank the lords the group wasn't present, although they found your banter amusing, often when it got too far they were the ones having to break you two up and sometimes being caught in the crossfire.  

“That’s not the primary interpretation of the myth,” Henry murmured, flipping a page, barely looking at you.

You grit your teeth. “It’s an interpretation.”

“A weak one.”

“Oh, I see. And you’re the sole arbiter of intellectual strength, is that it?”

Henry glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “I never said that.”

“You don’t have to.” You set your pen down with a sharp tap. “You think so.”

There was a pause. “You always assume the worst of me.”

You scoffed. “Because the worst is usually true.”

“Is that what you think?”

“I don’t think it, Henry. I know it.” You leaned forward. “You like feeling superior. It’s why you go after people the way you do, why you can’t just have a discussion, you have to dismantle. I’d almost admire it, if it weren’t so-” You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “Pathetic.”

For the first time that evening, his expression shifted.

And then, to your horror, he smiled.

Slowly, purposefully, he shut the book in front of him, his fingers resting lightly against the worn cover. “That’s an awfully emotional response for someone who claims not to care what I think.”

Your pulse quickened. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I don’t have to,” he said, voice low. “You do it for me.”

There was something wrong with the air in the room. It had thickened, become charged. You suddenly felt too warm.

Henry stood, moving past you toward the bookshelf, running his fingers idly over the spines of the texts, the firelight casting sharp shadows along his jaw. “You hate me,” he mused, his back still turned. “And yet here you are.”

“Oh, please,” you said, rolling your eyes. “It’s an assignment.”

He turned.

It was something in his posture, the slow way he leaned back against the shelf, arms crossed, head tilting slightly. The smirk that wasn’t quite a smirk.

“Of course,” he murmured. Something about the way he was watching you made your stomach tighten.

“Stop that,” you said, voice coming out sharper than you intended.

“Stop what?”

“Whatever this is. The-” You gestured vaguely. “You’re being weird.”

“You’re imagining things again, we’ve talked about this darling, you must stop doing that” Henry said smoothly, pushing off from the shelf. You looked forward, only hearing his steps approach you as he rounded the table to stand behind you. 

You meant to say something cutting, to brush him off, but then, his hand. Light. Barely touching the inside of your wrist as he moved to lean over you.

The contrast was startling. His words, his voice, the sharp precision of his arguments, and then, this.

It was like a game.

And worse, you were losing.

“Careful,” you murmured, echoing the warning you had given him before.

Henry, leaning so his lips were ever so close to your ear. “Am I making you nervous?”

You inhaled sharply, your eyes blinked a few times before you turned your head slightly to be eye to eye with him. You were so close it felt suffocating. “You wish.”

You suddenly pulled the chair out from under you, the back of it forcing Henry to step back. You quickly move to the middle of the room, facing him and strangely out of breath. You didn’t want the distance for a reason unbeknownst to you, but if you were that close to him anymore you were going to combust. 

He hummed, as he moved closer, boxing you in. Slowly, so you barely noticed it was happening. Until your back was nearly to the bookshelf, and Henry was in front of you, his presence filling every inch of space between you.

It wasn’t quite touching. But it was close.

“You like to think you know me,” he said, his voice lower now, almost conversational, like he was considering something carefully. His fingers skimmed the edge of your sleeve, so light you almost didn’t feel it. “But you don’t.”

You swallowed. “And you like to think you’re unknowable.”

Henry’s lips twitched, but his eyes darkened. “Maybe.”

There was something in the way he was looking at you, something electric, a live wire strung too tightly. Your pulse was an insistent, frantic thing against your ribs.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure if it was a warning or an invitation.

Henry leaned in just slightly, the heat of him inches from your skin, his breath warm against your jaw.

“So are you.”

You should have left the moment you realized what he was doing. Should have made some scathing remark, put him in his place, turned on your heel and walked out. But instead, you stayed. And Henry knew it.

You could see it in the way his eyes gleamed, dark and knowing, in the small curve of his mouth that wasn’t quite a smirk but something worse, something more dangerous.

"You always run your mouth, don’t you?" His voice was quiet, almost amused, but there was something sharper beneath it, a blade hidden in silk. “So much conviction. So much certainty.”

You exhaled sharply, trying to push past him, but he didn’t move. He only shifted, subtly, deliberately, blocking your escape with the sort of ease that made you realize he’d been planning this, had anticipated every move, every reaction. Your back pressed against the bookshelf, the sharp corners of the wood digging into your shoulder blades. Henry leaned in.

"Tell me, do you ever stop talking long enough to listen?" he murmured, and his breath was warm against your ear, a stark contrast to the razor edge of his words.

You breathed hard, threw your nose, letting your chest rise and fall. "Get out of my way, Henry."

His hand lifted, light, barely there, trailing just along the side of your throat, fingertips brushing the sensitive skin beneath your jaw.

"You don’t want that," he whispered.

You did.

You did.

But he was so close now, his body a careful, practiced cage around yours. His cologne, something dark and expensive, filled your lungs.

“I think you like this.” His voice was a murmur now, a secret only for you. "I think you like fighting with me. Like how I make you feel.”

You swallowed hard. “You’re delusional.”

Henry exhaled a quiet laugh, tipping his head slightly, close enough that you could feel his lips brush the shell of your ear.

“You know what I think?” he whispered.

You refused to answer.

“I think,” he continued, voice silken, “that you like the way I get under your skin. I think you wake up in the middle of the night replaying our arguments, rehearsing all the things you should have said." His fingers drifted lower, a ghost of a touch along the inside of your wrist. "I think it keeps you up.”

Your heart was hammering against your ribs, your breath uneven. You didn’t answer, but Henry wasn’t expecting you to. He tilted his head, considering you.

“I wonder,” he mused, his fingers slipping down to the curve of your waist, tracing over the fabric of your sweater, "if you even hate me as much as you pretend to."

Your skin burned under his touch, and you gritted your teeth, furious, at him, at yourself, at the way your body betrayed you.

“Henry,” you said, a very empty warning, hating how unsteady your voice was.

He only leaned in closer, his lips barely an inch from yours now, his breath warm, steady, unrushed.

"Why?" he murmured, his fingers tightening ever so slightly at your hip. “Afraid you’ll like it?”

Your nails dug into your palms. “You,”

Henry lifted a single brow, waiting.

You wanted to slap him or maybe you wanted to kiss him. You wanted to kick yourself for wanting both. 

His fingers trailed up your spine, slow, deliberate. He pressed in closer, his body a whisper against yours, the heat of him making your knees weak.

And then, just as you thought he might close the distance, might press his lips to yours, might finally shatter whatever had been simmering between you for months, he didn’t.

Instead, he leaned in, let his mouth hover just beside yours, and whispered,

“Say please.”

It was so condescending. You refused. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, wouldn’t feed his ego with whatever twisted game he was playing. You shook your head, not saying a word. 

But Henry was patient.

His lips hovered just beside yours, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath, the maddening proximity of him. His fingers traced slow, idle patterns along your waist, barely touching, just enough to make your skin prickle with awareness.

"Nothing to say?" he murmured, voice low, teasing. "For once?"

You turned your head away, jaw tight, but he only laughed, a quiet, amused sound that made something coil hot and electric in your stomach.

Then, his hand caught your chin, turning your face back toward him. Not forceful. Not rough. But firm.

His thumb traced lightly over your bottom lip, the touch so featherlight it sent a shiver down your spine.

“I could make you beg,” he said, thoughtful, almost to himself. "If I wanted to."

Your breath caught. “Go to hell.”

Henry just hummed, nodding his head as to agree with your statement. "Ladies first."

And then, he dipped his head, his lips grazing along the line of your jaw. It wasn’t a kiss. Not really. Just a brush of warmth, a suggestion, as though he was testing you. As though he wanted to see how long you could last before you cracked.

“You hate me,” he mused, his mouth ghosting over your skin. “You hate this.”

Your fingers curled against his chest, gripping the soft, expensive fabric of his sweater like you weren’t sure whether to pull him closer or push him away. His lips moved lower, the curve of your throat, the sharp line of your collarbone, never quite touching, just enough to make you want to chase the feeling. And god, you hated that.

His hand slid lower, past your waist, tracing slow, teasing lines over your hip.

"Say please," he whispered again.

You swallowed hard. “Go fuck yourself.”

Henry sighed, like you were being particularly difficult, and then, he pressed his lips just beneath your ear, the faintest scrape of teeth against sensitive skin. Your breath hitched. His hands curled against your hips, pulling you just slightly, just barely, against him. And oh, you felt it then, how hard he was, how much he was enjoying this.

The realization sent something sharp and hot spiraling through you, a dangerous kind of thrill, a rush of power tangled with frustration and something else you weren’t ready to name. Henry leaned in, pressing his body flush against yours, caging you against the bookshelf.

And then, with a voice so low it was almost a growl, he murmured,

"I think you like being told what to do."

Your breath left you in a sharp exhale. Henry tilted his head, studying you, like he was savoring your reaction.

Slowly, maddeningly, he dragged his lips down the side of your throat, pressing an open-mouthed kiss just above your pulse. And before you know it, you let your desire overcome your body, you let it consume your movements and your thoughts. Your tongue tangled with his, so eager as you pulled his shirt desperately to bring him closer. He guided your tongue into his mouth, sucking lightly before releasing you to bite your lip, toying with your mouth like he owned it. 

You hated him. You thought you had. He thought you had too but he could feel how much you loved this in your own sick and twisted way, your hips pressing against his. 

He smiles, moving his hands to grip your hips. In a quick movement, he guides you to the desk with all of your work scattered on it. He moves to stand behind you, and slowly trails down your spine with his finger tips before pushing you down to lean against the desk. Your hands slapped onto the table to catch yourself

“Henry,” you whined, trying to look over your shoulder at him. He smiled down at you while sliding up your skirt.

“Say please.” He already knew what your answer would be. He knew you couldn’t do it. Not yet.

You shook your head side to side, pressing yourself back into his hands. “You’re insufferable,” you managed, voice breathless, unsteady.

Henry exhaled a quiet laugh.

"You’re trembling."

You hated that he was right.

Hated the way your body betrayed you, the way his voice sent a pulse of heat straight through you.

He smiled, squeezing the ample flesh, then delivered a swift slap that made you gasp. “Oh darling, let’s see where this hatred will take us.” 

He slid his right hand between your legs, gliding two fingers over the damp spot on your panties. You gritted your teeth, not wanting him to be awarded the pleasure of your moans, gripping the wood of the table to keep yourself shut when he applied a little pressure, moving his hand in a slow circle. 

“Such a shame,” he said, pausing his movement. “Letting your pride get in the way of your own pleasure. It’s not as noble as you want to believe.”

“You’re a pretentious, self righteous, piece of sh-” you cut yourself off with a whine as his hand came down onto your flesh again. 

“There we are,” he murmured, and in quick movement, he pulled down your panties, letting the fabric pool around your ankles, and kicked your feet further apart, forcing you to lay your chest flush against the table. “So good for me now huh,” he purred, bringing his hand back between your legs. 

“Fuck you,” you moaned, rocking your hips against his hand.

You were already soaked, hot and slick as his middle finger swiped through your sex. He started massaging your clit, quick, light circles that had you moaning breathlessly. He moved away from your clit and eased his middle finger inside of you, curling gently as you bit your lip, nearly drawing blood. Your walls fluttered around him, sucking back against his finger when he pulled it out. You let an annoyed whine escape your lips, feeling pathetic to let it slip. 

“Say it,” he rasped, snaking a hand up your spine to grip your hair and pull your head back.

“No.” You replied through gritted teeth, and before you knew it you felt him pushing into you. He drew back a few inches before snapping his hips forward, gripping your hips as he pounded into you. 

You screamed, your whole body locking up and then losing all control of itself, collapsing harder onto the shaking table. He didn't let up, no matter how much you shook.

He was panting, the heat from the fire in the study made sweat collect around his hairline and drip down his spine. You felt as if your soul had ascended, you were reaching for the sublime. You let out loud noises from your lips, letting the pleasure drip like honey, letting him grip your hips. You didn’t want to, but you needed to. 

“Please, Henry, please.” You reached back for him, nails dragging along his forearm, and he felt himself teeter on the edge of release, his balls drawing up tight as liquid heat spread through his pelvis. 

“I knew you could do it. Just had to fuck that attitude out of you, didn’t I.” Your pussy clenched at his words, a wanton moan falling from your lips, and he smiled.

“Yes,” You moaned out, tears beginning to prick your eyes and threaten to fall onto your cheeks.

“How much do you want it?” Henry asked, almost politely, which almost made you laugh. If you didn’t feel like your body was being taken over, like pleasure was swimming through the veins of your body, making your heart pulse at a rate you didn't know was possible, you would have laughed. 

“So much, please Henry.” You were both so close, holding on to the brink of this worldly feeling. Then, it happened.

“Yes, yes, fuck!” It hit you, your whole body convulsing as it ripped through, and he was done for too. It flooded through you like golden light through cracked stained glass, something vast, something unbearable, an ecstasy so sharp it teetered on pain, leaving you trembling, hollowed out, and whole all at once. You were nothing but a vessel for it, a body undone by beauty, by longing, by the sheer ruinous joy of surrender.

Bracing his hands on the table as he came down, his hips involuntarily rocking into your greedy warmth. You, again, were trembling, completely boneless, held up entirely by the table and his hips. He leaned forward, pressing kisses into your hair. “All you needed to do was say please,” he murmured, throat tight with affection. 

“Such a jerk,” you muttered, amusement ringing through your tone so he could catch it. You chuckled before he moved his feet, letting you close your legs, and he hissed through his teeth at the new tightness around his softening cock, stealing a final thrust before slipping out of you.

The only sounds were the ragged edge of your breathing, the ticking of the antique clock on the far wall, and the faint rustle of Henry adjusting his sweater sleeves and you fixing your own clothes up.

You were slumped against the desk, fingers curled against the polished wood as if it might anchor you, keep you from unraveling entirely. Your skin was feverish, your body still humming with the aftershocks of everything that had just happened.

Henry, infuriatingly composed, leaned back against the bookshelf, watching you. His lips were pink, his hair mussed in a way that betrayed his otherwise careful exterior. 

You tilted your head and smiled slightly, biting back its full capacity. “Don’t look so smug.”

“Why not?” His voice was languid, smug, so utterly him you could’ve throttled him. “I think I’ve earned it.”

You had to force yourself not to laugh. “You-”

Shifting closer, voice a murmur. “Would you rather I pretend it didn’t happen? That you didn’t enjoy it?”

You bristled, standing so abruptly your knees nearly buckled. Henry caught your wrist before you could move away, his fingers light but firm.

"Careful," he murmured, tilting his head. "I wouldn’t want you to fall."

Your pulse leapt.

“You’re staring,” you muttered, still breathless.

“So are you.”

You scowled, pushing yourself up, reaching for your coat draped over the chair. “Well, I’m leaving.”

Henry hummed. “Why?”

You hesitated, fingers curling in the fabric. And then, just as you turned toward the door, Henry caught your wrist, not forcefully, not teasingly, just… gently. A stark contrast to everything that had just transpired between you.

“Stay.” His voice was quieter now, none of the sharp edges from earlier, none of the arrogance. Just the simple weight of the word. You swallowed, suddenly unsure.

“We hate each other,” you reminded him, but your voice lacked its usual bite.

A corner of his mouth quirked up. “Do we?”

Your heart pounded. He was still holding your wrist, thumb brushing absentmindedly over your pulse. It wasn’t calculated, wasn’t another move in whatever game the two of you had been playing for years.

It was just him, just you.

“I won’t ask again,” he murmured, eyes searching yours. “If you want to go, go.”

For a second, you thought about it, thought about leaving, pretending none of this had happened, continuing as if you still couldn’t stand the sight of him.

But then, instead of pulling away, your fingers curled around his.

You exhaled, shoulders sinking. “Fine. But only because I don’t want to walk back in the cold.”

Henry’s lips twitched. “Of course.”

You rolled your eyes, but when he laced your fingers together, you didn’t let go.

[klilyr]

For the Jeddy fans out there, a microfic:

Teddy felt James stir next to him and he took a breath as he watched him open his eyes. Teddy loved doing this, due to the fact that James always looked so confused about the fact he was awake for the first 30 seconds of his day. He did the exact same thing, every morning, he would blink three times, slowly, then scrunch both eyes closed tightly before hesitantly opening his left to check he really was awake.

His wake up routine hadn’t changed in the twenty years Teddy had known him.

He felt James realise exactly where he was the second it happened as the boy next to him let out a long, happy sigh and nuzzled in closer. Teddy wanted to forget their plan, wrap himself completely in James and forgo the whole idea.

James smelt of cinnamon, hazelnut and pine, thanks to the late night Christmas preparations he had stayed up creating with Lily last night and Teddy wanted nothing more than to sink his nose into the crook of the younger boy's neck and lose himself to another two hours of sleep, breathing in that delicious scent.

However,

However,

They had decided to tell Harry and Ginny about their relationship today and that put a stop to Teddy’s plans to hang out in bed for the foreseeable future.

You see, Teddy had known he had a crush on James since they were both teenagers but refused to act on it due to the close relationship he had with James’ father. Harry was practically a father to Teddy himself so the whole thing felt a little inappropriate, despite the fact the two boys shared absolutely no DNA between them - Teddy had checked. 

They had grown up as brothers, best friends, confidants, and Teddy had to go ruin it all by suddenly noticing how good James looked coming out of the shower in nothing but a low slung towel around his waist, how lovely a brother he was to Lily and Albus, how much his eyes sparkled in excitement after a particularly risky Quidditch play during one of his matches.

Teddy was gone for him but planned on doing absolutely nothing about it until James took matters into his own hands and cornered him after his first professional match.

“You were watching me.”

“Everyone was watching you, James. You were amazing out there.”

“Yeah, maybe everyone was. But you were watching me too. That’s all I cared about.”

James moved in Teddy’s arms now, wriggling his body around to be able to look up at him directly and smiled that gorgeous, bright smile.

“Merry Christmas, handsome.”

“Merry Christmas,” Teddy mumbled, trying to arrange his face into something resembling calm and collected.

“You’re anxious,” James called him out immediately.

“What if they get mad? I can’t lose this family, James, I don’t have another one.”

“Lose? You think if we tell them what we are to each other you are going to lose any of us? I think Dad would pick you over me in a heartbeat if that’s what you are stressing over.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Teds, I love you. Dad loves you. This is a good thing. You know this is a good thing, right?”

Teddy took another breath and looked right into James’ beautiful, searching eyes.

“You’re the best thing in my life, James, you always have been.”

James smiled brightly and then moved himself up onto his elbows before looking back at Teddy with a disarming smile.

“Right then, let’s go do this!” He jumped out of bed to find his underwear and winked at Teddy as he slid them over his hips, “Just, maybe, let’s not go into all the details of what exactly happened last night and I’m sure it’ll all be fine!”

[filthy-mudeoki]

Little Star

Another wish, another dream made upon the stars. Who knew little whispers of the heart could be so powerful. It’s promises made and wishes granted with a future brighter than either could have imagined. 

Tagging: @kairadiamond

These stories are now part of a series on AO3 called Slowly, then all at once

It's a been a while since the last fic! Of all the prompts I get, this one is the most requested. I hope in some way I have done it justice.

Thank you all for the wonderful response these stories have gotten.

Jiaxu is late again. It has been another late night at the office and he knows that Sang Zhi will understand. But he misses the routine of their nights together. This past week, he has come home to an unusually quiet house. Despite the lateness of his arrival, she is always waiting for him, more often than not dozing softly on the couch, but it makes him ache for the normality of their lives to return. Worse still, he knows Sang Zhi has not been feeling well, but she has made no fuss about this, not wanting to worry him. He feels terrible and promises that tonight will be the last late night for the foreseeable future. 

He has the phone to his ear, as he leaves the office. She answers on the second ring. 

“Wèi.” 

He pauses. She doesn’t sound like her normal self. Tired, he notes and again the guilt rises. He’s all the more eager to get home now. 

“Sang Zhi, what’s wrong?” 

“Ah… nothing!” She tries to dissuade him but he knows her too well. 

“Zhizhi…” he sighs, knowing she will not want to burden him. But he can’t have it be like this. “I’ll be home soon. I promise. We just had to fix the error. It took longer than we initially realised. I promise, no more late nights. I know you haven’t been feeling well lately. You keep saying it’s nothing but I don’t believe you. I know you don’t want to worry me but I am your husband. I’m allowed to worry and  -”

“Jiaxu,” she chuckles softly and it gives him enough respite to stop his rambling. “I’m not angry. It’s okay.” She sounds hesitant but Jiaxu doesn’t interrupt. “There’s just … are you really leaving the office now?” 

“Yes. I’ll be home soon.” 

“Hmm. Okay.” He can almost picture her fiddling on the other end of the line. 

“Are you okay?” He’s hesitant to ask but he has to know. 

She’s silent for a moment and that scares him slightly. “Yes.” Her voice is a little stronger than before. He knows she’s not lying. “I’ll be waiting.” 

“Okay.” 

He can barely get the words out fast enough before she cuts the call. He doesn’t waste another moment and gets into his car. It’s a bit of a blur but he manages to get himself home in good time. His mind goes into overdrive thinking over what could have made his usually so confident Zhizhi sound so unsure of herself. 

He toes his shoes off the moment he arrives home. It takes him a moment longer to notice the change in the apartment. Sure enough, it’s still quiet but there is a new, softer ambience to the room, now that it’s decorated in delicate fairy lights and candles. Jiaxu smiles immediately trying to find Sang Zhi. He doesn’t see her. But he does notice the set up on the table and makes out what he thinks is a cake too. His mind races once more to try and figure out if he’s missed an anniversary of some kind. He knows he hasn’t missed their official anniversary. It’s impossible to miss that one as it shares a date with his birthday, which is more than two weeks away. Their wedding anniversary is not for another few months. The set up makes it feel like it’s a celebration of some kind. He’s just not sure what it is yet. Nevertheless, the scene settles some of his immediate panic and he allows himself a moment to catch his breath. 

Is this what caused Sang Zhi to sound so anxious over the phone? She’s always so good at planning little surprises like this, that Jiaxu has to wonder what is so special about this one that she should be so nervous. 

Dropping his bag, Jiaxu takes a step further into the apartment, closer to the table. He can’t deny it’s prettily decorated and his heart leaps as he takes in the effort his Zhizhi has put in for him. Despite the fact that he feels like he has been neglectful lately, she has gone the extra mile to make him feel loved. Though he has to wonder what she’s got up her sleeve. Because there on the table, is his (or rather her) orange plushie fox and the white bear he had once given her. It’s the sight of another familiar object that causes his gait to slow even more. 

The jar sits temptingly between the two plushies. He picks it up, inspecting it closely. He sees the few little stars they have added together, over the years. He notices there are two new stars in the jar. Jiaxu has yet to see Sang Zhi but he plays along, knowing she has done this purely for his sake. 

Opening the jar, he tips it until the two new stars land in his hand. It’s distinctly different from the others. One bright pink and the other a deep blue, that helps it stand out against the soft pastels of the other stars in the jar. They’re slightly larger in size too and Jiaxu wonders what secrets Sang Zhi has written on these this time. Oddly enough, these stars have the numbers one and two respectively on them, indicating the order in which they should be opened. 

Before he attempts to unfold the star, he looks around the apartment one more time, hoping to catch sight of her. But he doesn’t. Still, he doesn’t stop smiling as he adjusts his glasses, unfolds the blue star with the number one on it. Jiaxu brings it closer to read. He knows her hand writing to know this little star is one of her wishes. Nevertheless, it takes a moment for the words to sink in. 

‘For Duan Jiaxu to have a family of his own.’ 

Jiaxu stares at it for a moment, trying to decipher the meaning behind it. He brings the paper up closer for inspection and as he does so, a memory runs through his mind. It’s fuzzy and he’s not entirely sure if there is really a link between the star in his hand and that one moment. He turns the paper over in his hand as he thinks it over. Certainly, he has no complaints about the family he finds himself surrounded by. It’s more than he could have asked for. 

He wants to find Sang Zhi and ask her what she means by this little star. He almost puts down the star to go find her when he remembers the second one in his hand. His curiosity and eagerness win over as he turns to the second star. Jiaxu unfolds the pink star and he sucks in a surprised breath as he reads it. 

“Pópo, I am making good on my promise to you. I’m going to give Jiaxu the family he deserves.” 

It takes even longer for those words to sink in. Especially, now that the memory becomes clearer. He remembers, Sang Zhi saying these very words as they had knelt before his mother’s grave all those years ago in Yihe. Surely, he has this now. Sang Zhi and Sang Yan are undoubtedly his family. But so are her parents and the small smattering of friends they’ve managed to keep here in Nanwu.

This little wish was written from Sang Zhi to his mother and he can’t ignore what this could possibly mean. The new implications of her words echo in his mind and heart. Suddenly, the paper in his hand feels impossibly fragile. He’s vaguely aware that perhaps his hands are shaking. But he does not want to think on it too heavily, does not want to jump to the wrong conclusion. 

He needs to find his wife. He needs to know for certain what these little stars mean. 

When he looks up, Sang Zhi is standing in front of him. So lost in his thoughts, he has not heard her come in.  She looks so lovingly at him and he wants to reach out and hold her close. But first he needs answers.  Still, he does not ask, some part of him afraid that it is not what he thinks it is. What he now so desperately wants it to be. 

“Sang Zhi…?” 

She smiles at him and that gives him more hope than he could have imagined. But she doesn’t say anything. All Jiaxu can do is watch as she steps closer, taking his hand in hers. Turning it over, she places on more star in his hand. This star, red in colour makes his hand tremble once more. 

Carefully he unfolds it, releasing a shaky breath as the words written there finally register for him. He’s got tears in his eyes already as he reads it over and over again. 

‘Jiaxu + Sang Zhi = bàba & māma’

“Zhizhi …” 

There is a question to his voice because he cannot find the words beyond her name. Still, she understands and nods, her lips pressed tightly together as she tries to hold back her own tears. 

“You really are…?” he trails off looking at her with a new intensity. 

“Yes.” 

There is a teary chuckle that escapes her and she smiles, unable to hold back her joy any longer. She’s beyond overjoyed and has been planning the best way to share this news with Jiaxu since she found out. She chose tonight, simply because she could no longer keep the news to herself.

“I am … and you … we really…” he struggles to find the words, but his smile is bigger and brighter than she has ever seen it. 

She laughs again, nodding and Jiaxu immediately regains enough sense to pull her close. She wraps her arms around him as he buries his head into the crook of her neck. She can feel the evidence of his tears against her skin and it makes her hug him closer. 

Jiaxu holds tightly to his wife, his one hand still clutches the stars tightly, unable to let go of either. They stay like that for a while, the magnificence of the news taking its time to settle in his heart. 

When he pulls back, he sees that Sang Zhi has been crying too. He wipes her tears away. His words are still stuck in his throat. Sang Zhi leans into his touch and Jiaxu crouches a little to press a kiss to her forehead. Her hands fall to grasp his shirt loosely in her hands. 

“I still can’t believe this,” he finally whispers. 

“Me too,” she chuckles. 

“Are … are you happy with this?” 

She looks at his with a slightly furrowed brow. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You’re at a great place in your career now. A baby will be a lot more for us both… I just …” 

“Jiaxu,” she says putting him out of his misery, “There is nothing more I want. I promise. You’re happy too, right?” 

“Unbelievably,” he says beaming down at her. 

He gently takes her face in his hands and she laughs. Jiaxu leans down and silences her laughter with a soft barely- there kiss. Then another and then at long last as his lips hover over hers, he looks down at her with nothing but pure love in his eyes. It’s enough to stop her heart. He kisses her, and every little piece of happiness that he feels, she feels too. 

When she pulls back, they’re both nearly breathless, not just from the kiss but all the emotions that pass between them. 

Jiaxu wraps an arm around Sang Zhi as he shifts the pieces of paper from one hand to the other. He’s still smiling as he holds them out in the small space between them. 

“I never knew these stars could carry such wonderful wishes.” He reads it again this time aloud, in something of an awed whisper. “Bàba & māma.” 

His fingers trace over the words and Sang Zhi notices he’s as awed by the notion as she is. It’s been a few days since she found out, but it still feels like an unbelievable dream.  

“Bàba & māma,” she repeats softly. 

He holds the pieces of paper out to her. “Will you fold it for me again?” 

She nods and takes the first one, folding it this way and that. He watches but doesn’t say a word until she’s almost done with the third star. 

“I’m going to keep these extra safe,” he tells her.  He looks at the now neatly folded stars in his hand and shakes his head a little disbelievingly. “These little stars … Zhizhi I can’t tell you what this means to me.” 

“I know.” 

And she does. More than anybody else, she does understand what this means to him. She knows that Jiaxu is going to be the best father to their baby. It’s why she’s not as scared as she thought she would be. Knowing she would be sharing this journey with him eased a lot of her own worries and fears. But she is also aware that Jiaxu has fears of his own. 

“You’re going to be the best bàba, Duan Jiaxu,” she tells him. Sang Zhi doesn’t leave room for argument as she cups his cheek. He does not look up from the stars in his hand, but she knows he’s got tears in his eyes again. “You really are.” 

He lets out a shaky little breath and slowly nods, before looking up at her. His brow furrows a little as he leaners in closer. “You’re doing it again,” he playfully accuses. 

“Doing what?” she frowns slightly. 

“Making all my dreams come true.” 

Sang Zhi blushes and smiles so broadly Jiaxu can only think how lovely she looks before kissing her once more. 

Jiaxu runs a hand down her back as they pull back. He gives the stars in his hand one last look before deciding they need to be kept away for safe keeping. Lucky enough the jar is not far out of reach and he opens it up again. They both watch as he gently tips the stars back into the jar. They fall in and settle with the rest. He closes the jar and holds it up for them both to see. The two new stars still stand out and he loves that the most. 

Sang Zhi laughs and he glances down at her with a raised brow. She’s got a playful twinkle in her eyes. “I was just wondering; do you know any lullabies?” 

“Ah… I guess I’ll have to learn a few,” he admits. Truthfully, he does not know much and he’s not entirely sure about his singing voice. He tells her as much. 

“I don’t think our baby will care how terrible your singing is, so long as it’s you.” 

His heart nearly leaps from his chest when he hears her words. Our baby. 

“Wait… I never said it was terrible.” 

Sang Zhi does her best to hide her smile. “Oh? Well, I thought…” 

“I was only saying it might not be the greatest. Terrible is Sang Yan,” he teases. She laughs, and he hugs her closer. 

Sang Zhi leans into his embrace and Jiaxu shifts them, taking a seat at the table. Sang Zhi ends up sitting in his lap, her back pressed to his front, the jar of stars now in her hand. 

They’re both looking at it, knowing everything will be different now. “We’ll have to tell them.” 

Jiaxu nods. “Hhm, whenever you’re ready to.” 

“Maybe … after we see the doctor,” she says thinking it over. 

There is so much to do before they are ready to tell their family. She wants this to be just for them for a little while longer. She knows this baby will be undeniably spoilt and she can’t wait for that. But she also wants it to be just the three of them for a little while longer. 

Jiaxu rests his chin on her shoulder as his hand wraps around hers and the jar she is still holding. He’s quiet for a long while and she wonders where his thoughts have taken him. 

“Zhizhi?” 

“Hhm?” 

“Xièxiè,” he whispers. 

Sang Zhi smiles shyly. “For this?” 

His hands leave the jar and come to rest over her stomach. It’s a gentle touch but it thrills her all the same. 

“Not just for this. For everything.” His voice is not as steady as he would like it but Jiaxu knows she will understand the weight of his words. Her fingers reach out to intertwine with his over her stomach. “And I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” He doesn’t have to see her face to know she’s furrowing her brow in that adorable way she does when she gets confused or flustered. 

“I’ve been neglecting you. All these late nights.” He says and can sense she is ready to counter that but he doesn’t let her. “I’m sorry. I know you have not been feeling well and I should have been here. I promise, I’ll better in the future.” 

Sang Zhi leans further into his embrace as she answers. “It’s okay. I am not angry. Besides, we now know why I wasn’t feeling well. It’s going to be a while before it stops.” She squeezes their intertwined fingers, hoping he will hear the sincerity in her voice. “I know you’ve been working so hard Jiaxu, to give me this wonderful life. Please don’t feel guilty because you haven’t been neglecting me. I only want you to promise me one thing.” 

“Anything.” 

“You’ll take good care of yourself, especially when you’re working so hard. So that no matter what, you can come home every night… to us.” 

His eyes fall shut as he lets that sink in. There is now one more person who will be waiting for him at home. Another reason for everything that he does. 

“Always,” Jiaxu promises. “Wǒ ài nǐ, Zhizhi.” 

“Wǒ ài nǐ,” she whispers as he presses a kiss to her temple. 

He glances down at the jar and suddenly an answer to the question she had asked earlier comes to mind. 

“I know a song,” he says so suddenly, it confuses Sang Zhi for second. “I mean I know a lullaby. I think I still remember some of the words too.” 

“Really? Which one?” 

“Qīsèguāng zhī gē.” 

Sang Zhi tries to recall this one. The Song of the Sunlight.

“What is it about?” It sounds familiar but it’s been a while since she’s last thought about such things as a lullaby. They will both need to do some brushing up on that. 

“It’s about a promise of a bright tomorrow no matter what the day has brought.” His voice goes a little quieter as he admits, “My mother liked singing it.”  

She thinks it’s a pretty perfect lullaby for the baby and she tells him as much. 

Jiaxu relaxes into his seat as Sang Zhi falls against him too. He loves moments like this when it’s just the two of them but he quickly realises, it won’t be just the two of them any longer. Jiaxu is excited beyond measure for that. Sang Zhi has her eyes closed, but she’s idly playing with his fingers and it awakens a new part of him. He has always been protective of his Zhizhi but suddenly, that instinct feels like it might go into overdrive. His hand is now gently resting over her belly, and his fingers flex slightly at the thought of protecting them both. 

His Zhizhi and their little star – because that is what this baby is. A wish and a dream that he had never dared to speak out loud because truthfully, he has wanted it more than he was willing to admit. And yet here it was, now so tangible in his very hands. It feels impossibly wonderful. 

There is no doubt that Sang Zhi is more than just the one who hangs the moon and stars in his world. Although, Jiaxu thinks she is actually more like the sun, bringing such warmth and love into his life, giving him a thousand little stars to wish on every day. Especially after all the bad days, there is always love and happiness in all the spaces she occupies in his life. 

So, if his Zhizhi is the sun, the one that led him through the darkness and lights up the possibilities of all his dreams, handing it over one little star at a time. Then, undoubtedly their child will be one of those precious little stars - the embodiment of their love and dreams all wrapped into one little heart and soul.

There is only one thought that echoes through his heart as they sit quietly together. One thought that makes him inexplicably happy. 

‘His Zhizhi and their xiǎo xīngxīng.’ 

.....

Wèi – Hi 

Pó po -  mother-in-law 

Xièxiè- thank you 

Wǒ ài nǐ – love you 

Qīsèguāng zhī gē – the Song of the Sunlight 

Xiǎo xīngxīng – little star ao3

[avirael]

FFxivWrite 2023

Day 09 - Fair

His last mission had been a disaster and, even if Minfilia had nothing but praise for him, A'viloh still felt more terrified than heroic about the events involving Ifrit. Just as he left her solar and decided he would crawl into bed and remain there for the foreseeable future, Thancred, who had also been there for their conversation, ran after him.

"A'viloh! Wait a moment, please!"

The Miqo'te stopped, hoped that he didn’t look too distressed and turned to face the Scion.

"Did you forget something?"

"Not exactly…I just felt obliged to tell you something. It wouldn’t be fair to keep this from you…", Thancred said. "Whether she intended to or not, Minfilia neglected to tell you something - something I think it would be best you hear from one of us."

He looked around to see if anyone was listening and then with an unusually serious expression and a quiet voice he said: "It concernes the tempered abductees that were rescued… I am sorry to report that all of them are to be put to death, the Flames with whom you were imprisoned included."

Instantly A'viloh‘s carefully put together smile crumbled and all color drained from his face. "What?? But…why?!"

"I swear to you that we would not do this if there were any other recourse - but once a man is tempered, he is tempered for life. His very existence lends strength to the primal whom he cannot choose but worship.", Thancred explained, but the information did nothing to soften the blow.

The terror on the Miqo'te’s face was impossible to miss. He sat down on a bench, that stood next to them in the hallway and buried his face in his hands. The whole experience had been horrifying enough the way it was and now this…

"I wish you never told me…", he muttered quietly.

Thancred didn’t seem to know what to reply to that. Instead he sat down beside A'viloh and still tried to find the right words, when the Miqo'te spoke again.

"This isn’t fair. Why me? By pure luck I survive while everybody else around me dies. I’m too weak to protect anyone, I don’t deserve this. This is so unfair…"

He was certain that by now he should have died at least three times but by some cruel miracle he, the most unworthy among them, made it out alive every single time...

Hesitantly Thancred put a hand on A'viloh’s back.

"Please don‘t blame yourself, A'viloh. If anybody is at fault here it is me. I arrived to late to be of any use… to you or the abductees. For that I owe you an apology and I hope you can forgive me. I should have been there when the Amalj'aa took you prisoner. But I wasn’t and you had to face Ifrit all alone."

A'viloh laughed a short, almost hysterical laugh. "By the Twelve, if you had been there you only would have ended up tempered too!"

Thancred grimaced. "That might be true but the same goes for you. My mistake nearly cost you your life. If it wasn’t for the echo you would… no, I don’t even wanna think about it. I'm sorry, I failed you utterly."

A'viloh slowly looked up and glanced at the man beside him. Thancred‘s expression was full of remorse. "You tell me not to blame myself and then you go and blame yourself instead? I don’t think there’s anything you could have done either…"

Thancred shook his head.

"No, but I should never have let it get that far in the first place. I should have known better!"

A'viloh tried his best to give him a sympathetic smile. "How would you? You’re not clairvoyant."

"But the next best thing. I‘m the Scion‘s spymaster.", he gestured at the tattoo on his neck. "Do you know what this is, A'viloh?"

The Miqo'te shook his head. He had already wondered about those tattoos they all had but never asked any of them about it.

"It‘s an Archon mark.", Thancred explained. "In Sharlayan that’s a title given only to those who are the best of the best in their area of expertise. This mark means that I should have been able to know our enemies next moves even before they do. But instead I let them fool us and let you run straight into their trap… My mentors would be ashamed of me…"

A'viloh didn’t know anything about Sharlayan but he couldn’t imagine that they were as unforgiving as Thancred made it sound.

"Don’t be so harsh with yourself. We both were there, you know how difficult it was to get any information…"

Thancred smiled at him as charmingly as ever but it somehow didn't look genuine this time. It made A'viloh wonder how much of his usual behavior was real and how much of it only a well practised performance.

"It’s nice of you to defend me but it should have been my job to find a way. Louisoix would never have allowed this to happen… I have to do better… I have to be stronger…"

A'viloh sighed. "I think that applies to both of us then…"

A while they just sat there in silence lost in their thoughts, then Thancred started to laugh, which earned him a confused look by the Miqo'te.

"Look at us!", Thancred said. "Here we are, wallowing in self-pity and being miserable!"

Now it was A'viloh’s turn to laugh.

"To be honest that’s exactly what I had planned to do for at least a day or two…"

Thancred raised a warning finger and stood up. "No no, I can absolutely not let that happen! You know what’s going to make all of this a lot better?"

A'viloh furrowed his brow and waited for the other to continue.

"Alcohol!", Thancred suggested. "Extraordinary amounts of alcohol!"

The Miqo'te broke out in laughter and Thancred beckoned him to follow.

"Come on, the first drink is on me!"

[theresnohopelivinghere]

The Journal of Emme Walker, May 2019

If you walk the streets at night in Hope, there will be no hope for you.

My grandparents used to tell me that all the time when I was a little girl.  Even from a young age, I never took it seriously.  I was a prideful child.  I thought I was invincible and that nothing could take me down.  That’s probably why my mom, bless her heart, had such a hard time coming to terms with my rampant curiosity and my thirst for adventure.  But my grandparents would not be deterred from scaring some sense into me.

The thing about rural towns is that people love to make up stories about them to make them seem more interesting or just to pass the time.  Hope is no different.  It was once an out-of-the-way town out by the sea, in the middle of nowhere.  I’m talking about dusty roads, ample farming, spotty local transportation, stores that looked like they came straight out of a black-and-white film, and older residents living the last of their lives in the one place they’ve always called “home”.  

It used to be that I’d just spend my summers there with my grandparents, helping out with their garden while partaking of the harvest.  But after my dad died, my mom moved back there and I went to school there from grades 4 to 6.  We moved before the development push.  She was offered a cushy job in a city she'd always wanted to live in that would allow the two of us to live comfortably into the foreseeable future.  A get-out-of-rural-jail card, if you will.

Seriously. According to her, it was our one escape out of a town that had proven itself to be anything but idyllic. If she hadn't taken it...well, things would be very different.

She's not a fan of me going back there to interview people for my dissertation. Which is funny because growing up, she'd tell off my grandparents whenever they'd tell me all the stories about all the terrible monsters that lurked within the town of Hope. All the old folks in town had their own stories about what happened to children if they stayed out too late at night or didn't trust their intuition.  Mom didn't believe in using scary stories to ensure that kids behaved themselves.  She told me that if she wanted me to behave myself and be a good girl, she’d just say so.  But my grandparents wouldn’t listen.  They insisted on me telling me these tales so that I could protect myself. Because there were too many instances of children who disappeared because they weren't warned properly.

I'm glad they did. Mom won't admit it, but she's glad, too. And yet here I am, on my way back to that town, ready to hear the stories of the children who didn't escape from the elders that still remain. Hope may be different now - young families moved in to take their place and brought with them the promise for gentrification. Shopping, entertainment, the town holds its own.  The local elementary school is top notch and so is the high school. There’s train service that links up to the other parts of town as well as the bigger cities, and paved roads that get you to the highway system.  You can go everywhere now.

And yet...

I know studying modern folklore and urban legends in the town of her birth won't get me a cushy job in a corporate office but this is something I want to do. Have to do, even. The tale of a seaside town plagued with paranormal activity, rumored to be once started by and controlled by a mysterious cult who swore allegiance to malicious entity who has been around since time immemorial until one they just disappeared - it's all very juicy stuff.

I’m not sure what I'm doing with all this. Why I'm going back. Everyone says if you brush against the shadows of Hope and survive, you should never come back. But that's why I have to. Come back. If there’s one thing that living in Hope has taught me, it’s that old habits die hard and old legends never die. I can feel the shadows stirring again, unhappy that they've been forgotten. They want the people to remember...to fear their power. I can feel the chill in my bones, and the terror squeezes my heart like a vice. I don't know what I'm trying accomplish, but I know I have to do something. For my mother and my grandparents. And for the children who couldn't escape the shadows.

Including the boy I loved.

[fknhues]

end note: 2023

i'm like 21 days late for this closure for 2023. but its taking me awhile to accept 2023 as a whole.

on the bright side, i've managed to settle myself fully and be contented with the life path i've chose towards the end of 2023 and i'm glad i still have the same people i trust and love since the start of 2023. to me, that is the most rewarding part.

somewhere in the almost middle of 2023, i went through a break up with someone whom i saw a future with. but little did i know that that person would go. leaving me in a spiral for three months. though, i did managed to move on during those 3 months while making the wrong choices too. its a habit for me to stay after breaking up as i did foresee a future with him and i thought there was hope. until that one day i drew such a hatred and my body rejected him - which was its way to tell me that its time for me to leave. took awhile for my mind be okay with that. to whoever you are, i hope you're happier without me and i'm sure you can be. i hope you and your family are healthy. i do miss your mother at times and yes, i'll fulfill the promise i've made with her when the time comes. this relationship that was built is still the most bitter to me. anyways, stream typa girl by blackpink.

work wise, i've managed to learn to love my work again with my new role. my team is so lovely even though i'm the only sgrean and the rest are in kl. but the dynamic the 4 of us have is just impeccable. though, i still do have the intention on leaving the company even when i love my team and my job. the company, she ain't it. too many unpredictable changes and sometimes too forceful for results.

family wise, i lost two of my elders on my maternal side in july and in october. i miss them dearly especially my grandfather, whom has protected me and shower me countless loves. hope he's happy up there. his passing was definitely one of my biggest points in 2023. i never thought i would lose him but god loves him more than anyone will ever. everytime i speak about him, i get choked out because there was a period whereby i had to be strong and i didn't process it yet, truly indenial of it. oh on the bright side, my dearest uncle is back. the only sad part about him being back is i am not sure if he knows my grandfather has passed on or not. but i am proud that he is back to civilization now.

friendship wise, i am glad that i managed to hang out with my friends lots in 2023, especially towards the end when i've managed to find balance and be happy again. yes, when i'm upset, i tend to disappear as i don't want anyone to worry about me nor see me in the state of agony. thankful to my two brothers who always entertain my cravings of acai and much impromptu meets by randomly going to changi airport or even vivo for no apparent reasons. thankful to vg always and forever for being my girls till today and being there for me when things get super hard. so blessed to have witness one of the heartfelt weddings ever - i couldn't control my tears, she has certainly went through alot and i am so happy that she's happy and love the life she is in right now.

you thought i was done? nah. guess what? i am blessed to have met someone yet again. when i say again, yes, he was my 2020 valentines date and my only ns girlfriend era i had. we met again in 2023 and we clicked really well. he did something unexpected as others would ask the person they like to be their girlfriend but no. he took out the 'do you want get a bto with me?'. surprise! yeah, we're on that now. wish us luck! still learning about one another because its been 3 years since we last met but boy, i am happy. he treats me kindly and even holds me softly. he reminds me of my 21 self who was still in school - just freedom with a little sprinkle of school stress. so blessed to be working at serangoon so i’m lowkey near him and sometimes i get free rides home hehe. thank you to my man for entertaining my jb staycays. may we go cruises this year. oh & we’re celebrating 2024 valentines together again! anyways, insyaallah we'll get the bto.

also, i've reconciled with the people i fell off friendships with in 2021 and i'm so happy i get to see them again and talk to them again. their humour are apparently all still the same. sending each other failed covers and stupid satire jokes. it makes me feel somewhat wholesome that i'm friends again with the people who were there for me when i was myself completely.

i am contented that i am myself, i am happy and i do not need to lead nor be strong for anyone anymore. i do not associate with the me in may 2023 to august 2023 (sadly my birthday month too) as i genuinely don’t know her. she’s a broken girl who leaned on people who were never meant to stay in her life and for that, i don’t know her. but all i know is, i’ll fight for the people who will fight for me. i’ll support you as much as i can. however, once you give up on me, i’ll only give you A Chance to redeem yourself or else, goodbye.

to my daddy, what the heck man. i haven’t seen you in two years and when my grandfather passed, he came. now he sees my family members more than me?! literally met my uncle before i meet him? chile. but yeah, my situation with daddy hasn’t change. it might when i want to get married but just for the camera, daddy!

lastly, my mom and i rarely fight, which is literally my biggest goal in 2023. so three cheers for me! thank you to my mom for being my biggest life supporter, life advisor, pillow to cry on. to more trips for you, mama!

if you read this until here, thank you for existing and thank you for being there for me.

i love you.

love, nini.

[impostoradult]

I finally figured out why it feels like Supernatural murdered a unicorn (AKA why you need to STOP telling me to watch Black Sails)

I’ll start by saying, everything everyone else has been saying CERTAINLY bothers me: 

- the queer-baiting - the bury your queers - the undermining of Dean’s character arc  - the wasted opportunity for a certain kind of overall narrative closure - the flat out disrespect to Misha Collins and Jensen Ackles

 All of that bothers me tremendously. 

But there has been something else rather ineffable about this that has left a horrible taste in my mouth that I couldn’t quite pin down until last night. Bear with me, if you will, because this will require some set-up. 

*** This is not the first show to ever disappoint me in a spectacular fashion, nor will it be the last, I suspect. And one of the ways I’ve always coped with that disappointment was to remind myself that there will be other stories, other characters, other chances to get it right. (”It” being any number of things from just pure narrative emotional coherence to not burying your queers to not stringing along your queer audience and then yelling fuck you to them on the way out) 

But somehow that assurance -- that there will be other stories, other characters, other chances to get it right -- has rung particularly hollow in this instance, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on why until yesterday. 

I kept asking myself, why do I still have this feeling, deep in the pit of my stomach, like something was lost here that can never be recovered? 

Because something was lost here that I am doubtful can ever be recovered, and I don’t think I’ve seen anyone else talking about this aspect of it at all. 

***

A few months ago, TV critic Maureen Ryan did a great interview piece with Mike Schur (of Parks & Rec/The Good Place) discussing the death of long-form TV in the streaming era. They explore how the longer seasons and longer runs of traditional broadcast/cable TV provided an opportunity to tell particular kinds of stories that you simply can’t when seasons are 8-10 episodes and series typically run 2-4 seasons (thanks Netflix).

One key thing we’ve all lost in this new era of highly condensed TV storytelling (and of prestige TV narrative styles)? The traditional (several season’s long) slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance. Not only is there simply no longer the time or space to write such romances, it has also come to be seen as hacky, manipulative, cheap, artistically impoverished, low-brow, a embarrassing vestige of the era before TV became art™. 

Everybody is trying to be Fleabag now. No one wants to be Frasier. (”It’s really more like a 10 hour movie” they all like to brag)

Obviously TV still has romances, even ‘drawn out’ romances. But ‘drawn out’ in 2020 is like 2-3 seasons, maybe. More commonly it’s like half a season. Take Schitt’s Creek. The number of episodes between when David and Patrick first meet and when they first kiss? Seven. Seven episodes. Half a season. If you watched it live, it took less than 2 months for them to move from introducing that dynamic to consummating it. And I’m not bagging on Schitt’s Creek; I think the David/Patrick’s story is very lovely and well-written. 

But Niles & Daphne (Fraiser) had to wait 7 years and over 150 episodes before they finally got there. Josh & Donna (The West Wing) had to wait 6+ years, and 145 episodes. Mulder & Scully (The X-Files) had to wait 7 seasons and 143 episodes. Booth & Bones had to wait...you see where I am going with this. 

And my point is (and I can’t believe I never realized this explicitly until now): there has NEVER been a queer slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance of that type on TV ever. EVER. 

I’m going to say that again, because I think it bares repeating:

There has never been a queer, slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance that fits the 100-150 episode paradigm of delayed gratification on TV. 

Not ever.  

I can’t think of ONE example  Not a single, solitary one. And I know queer TV pretty well. Arguably the closest we’ve ever come is Legend of Korra, and that ran 50 episodes, a THIRD of the length of old school will-they-won’t-theys like Booth & Bones or Josh & Donna. 

Queer people have had a fair number of canonical romances on TV by now, even fairly long running ones. But we never got a primary/front-and-center romance that you had to root for for 100+ episodes before you got any kind of canonical consummation.

That is a particular kind of TV experience that queer people and queer characters were just 100% shut out of until it was too late. And because of how the TV landscape has changed in the last 10 years, I don’t know that that opportunity will ever come back around in our lifetimes. 

***

Dean and Castiel are/were a legacy of an earlier era of TV, an era that still contained the possibility for a will-they-won’t-they of that particular mold. There were other shows that could have also filled this gap at one time - Rizzoli & Isles, OUAT, House MD, etc. But one by one all of them were killed off, their queer romances unrequited, until Supernatural was the only one of its’ generation left standing. 

And they should have acknowledged that they were a species about to become extinct. 

There are plenty of other valid and compelling reasons Supernatural should have gone full Destiel, don’t get me wrong.

A) It would have been the most emotionally satisfying ending to the series and to those characters (and that would have been reason enough). 

B) It would have stopped the manipulative queer-baiting of the (disproportionately queer) fanbase (and that would have been reason enough). 

C) It would have been queer representation of middle-aged men, of bi men, of queers who came to their queerness later in life (and any/all of those would have been reason enough). 

D) It could have been a glorious subversion of the bury your queers trope, considering how often they’ve died and been resurrected (and that would have been reason enough). 

But point E) on this list is the reason this one hurts in a singular way that no one even appears to be acknowledging. 

Almost all of the other wrongs and missed opportunities contained in this Supernatural debacle have the possibility of being rectified (at least to a degree) elsewhere. I can and I likely will get more bi male characters from TV as time goes on. I can and likely will get more middle-aged queer characters. I can and likely will get more queer characters coming to their queerness later in life, and starting queer romances later in life. I can and likely will get more queer characters who aren’t killed cheaply and prematurely. I can and likely will get more genre TV shows with sprawling myth arc plots that are resolved in a coherent, satisfying way. I can and likely will get Misha Collins and Jensen Ackles involved in other projects that value their work and their talents. 

All of those other things are at the very least POSSIBLE, and many are even likely. 

But a queer 100-150 episode slow-burn romance a la Mulder & Scully or Niles & Daphne or Booth & Bones? That is the one baton Supernatural dropped spectacularly that no one else even has the possibility of picking up again for the foreseeable future. (They don’t even write those types of romances for heterosexuals anymore!) 

Seriously. It was a TV unicorn. And rather than letting it run wild and free, they stabbed it with a rusty nail. 

***

Given the monumental shifts in the TV landscape that have occurred in the last decade, I don’t know that TV will ever go back to the slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance spanning 100-150 episodes. Today it is a miracle if you can get ANY show to last longer than 50 episodes in the first place. 

And that is the piece of this that makes it feel (to me) like they murdered a unicorn.  

Because queer people have gotten a lot of things from TV, and they will get a lot more as time goes on. But that one? That one could very well be a totally extinct species.

That is the larger missed opportunity here that has left this feeling especially hollow and destructive. That is the thing that makes me balk when people tell me to go watch Black Sails or Pose or whatever other prestige TV show is doing this representation ‘better.’ Because that’s not really the loss I am mourning here. I KNOW there is ‘better’ representation elsewhere.  

But the will-they-won’t-they/slow-burn romance is a qualitatively unique thing that queer people literally just never got. Ever. There is no substitute, no alternate, no other show I can turn to with that kind of build-up and pay-off for a queer couple, and there probably won’t be in my lifetime. Not unless the TV industry undergoes another monumental evolution similar to the streaming revolution that shifts the incentives back to telling those types of stories again. 

All those shows you want me to displace Supernatural with? None of them can give me the one thing I uniquely wanted (and could have gotten) from Supernatural. THAT ALTERNATE SHOW DOESN’T EXIST. It doesn’t exist. And I have no reason to hope it will ever exist in my lifetime. 

So stop telling me to look somewhere else; you don’t understand what made this one a unicorn. 

***

Addendum: The only other possible show that could perhaps fill this gap is It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia (re: Mac/Dennis). But I’m hesitant to say it exactly meets that criteria, for a number of reasons:

1 - It’s far less serialized relative to Supernatural and (except for a handful of stand-alone episodes) very little of the story is grounded specifically in Dennis/Mac’s romantic dynamic (unlike SPN, where it is absolutely central to much of the narrative)

2 - IASIP is fundamentally satirically in nature/tone which makes it much harder to have genuine romantic pathos (not impossible, but harder) 

3 - All the characters on IASIP are fundamentally crummy people who you aren’t exactly supposed to root for. Which doesn’t mean a romance between two of them can’t have its value/charm/worth but it’s not the same as when it is between characters who unequivocally deserve nice things/happy endings

[buckyownsmylife]

Follow you - Chris Evans smut

The one where Chris becomes your roomate and finds out he has a domesticity kink... and more

Warnings: Smut, breeding kink, domesticity kink, friends to lovers, rommates au, pandemic mention, hair-pulling kink, daddy kink, cockwarming, kind of allusion to an age gap, but can be read as reader being into teasing chris

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: Thanks to @mollygetssherlockcoffee​ for reading this over and helping me make it better! You’re the sweetest person ever!  this is for my own birthday celebration challenge! Like I explained here, I’m going to try to fill every single AU I listed with the characters I picked for the challenge, and since the deadline if May 27, these fics will be posted randomly, as I finish them. Hope you guys like it!

Chris’ P.O.V.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” I’d been trying to convince her to close her laptop for the last two hours, unfortunately without any luck. She just glanced at me before returning to her document, and I groaned as I left the living room in search of what I knew we needed.

“Close the laptop and I’ll give you a sip.” This time when she looked up, she found me holding a bottle of my most expensive whiskey, the one she’d been dying to try ever since she first got invited to my place.

It was a tense moment of evaluation while she took in my offer and her workload, her head turning from her computer to me and then back to the device again, and I found himself growing anxious because of how desperately I wanted her company that night.

“Please?” I tried to convince her, even going so far as to pout - which at least earned me a giggle. I considered it a win, especially with the way it made my chest warm up. “C’mon, we deserve it! After the week we had?”

She frowned when she thought back on the stresses we had confided in each other for the last couple of days, and I watched with glee when she slowly closed her laptop, prompting me to wave my arms around in victory. “We?” She teased, getting up to stand before me with her arms crossed in front of her body, making me laugh.

“Alright, so maybe just you.” I couldn’t really deny that my work “problems” paled in comparison to hers. “Listen, I’m only trying to help.” She narrowed her eyes at me, reaching out for the bottle and unscrewing it before taking the sip I’d promised.

“Shit, this really is good.” A smug smile took over my face as I wrapped my arms around her, walking us back to the couch before making us fall over it.

“Only the best for you, babe.” I watched her roll her eyes at the pet name, snickering at how it affected her. I knew it made her giddy and she hated it, it’s why I insisted on doing it - or so I told myself.

Something deep inside of me whispered differently, though. I tried to ignore it. She was my best friend and we were going to be living together for the foreseeable future. No one knew when this pandemic would let up.

And lord knows that nothing positive had ever come out of my investments in romantic relationships. So every rational thought in my mind was begging me not to overcomplicate this. I couldn’t stand to lose her friendship, anyway. That’s why I had invited her to spend lockdown with me - my need to know she was okay, and be able to have her around whenever I needed to vent.

She was the only one outside my family who got my anxiety well enough to help me work through it when I was feeling bad, and she had even been able to prevent me from having panic attacks more than once.

I just couldn’t imagine going through this with anyone other than her. I simply hadn’t anticipated how fucking horny this period of forced sexual privation would make me, and I never expected her to become a willing victim to my needs.

But boy, once the liquor hit and she ended up over my lap, shivering as she rode my thigh without a care in the world, was I glad that she did.

“Is this what you like?” I asked, looking up at her with my mouth hanging open, unbelieving of how fucking sexy she looked as she used my body for her pleasure. I didn’t even care that my cock was straining against my jeans, begging me to move her on top of it. As long as I could keep enjoying the show, being a part of it, I was satisfied.

“I wanna learn it,” I pressed, moving my hands to hold her ass, squeezing it the way I’d always wanted to do but never allowed myself to dream about. “I wanna learn how to please you.” She made me feel something I hadn’t felt before, in any of my past relationships. There was attraction, of course, but there was also this deep, familiar feeling that made me feel at home. It made me feel safe, and with the help of alcohol, I was desperate to explore it.

“Ugh,” she groaned, letting her head fall back, drawing my attention to her breasts, the way they bounced in front of my eyes, unfortunately still covered. My mouth watered at the sight of it, wanting nothing much than to strip her bare and wrap my lips around one of her nipples.

“Don’t say stuff like that, Evans.” The comment threw me off, making me frown as I took a hold of the hair on the back of her head and yanked her to me, devouring her lips. They were soft - so much softer than I’d ever allowed myself to imagine.

“Why not?” I panted against her mouth once I was forced to separate from her taste of whiskey to search for some oxygen. She kept moving, her eyes hazy and glossed over, and it sent a pang of lust straight down my body when I realized it wasn’t completely due to the drinks we shared. There was also desire in there.

“You want to learn?” She asked, hands bunching up my shirt as she used her hold to grind against me faster. “Then fuck me, Chris.” She molded her body to mine, engulfing my lips once more as I laid her down on the couch, excited to have her underneath me - excited to see her naked body, explore it, get to know every little thing that made her tick.

I knew it would be a moment I’d forever remember, regardless of the amount of bourbon in my blood. I just never expected it to become something I was so eager to relive over and over and over again.

It was supposed to be a one time thing. When I woke up in the morning, I was ready to go back to being roommates. We were good at that. She was a morning person, by the time I woke up every morning, she already had breakfast ready for me, and then we’d go out to the backyard to let Dodger out together.

We’d sit and talk and then I’d go for a run - she’d have done her yoga already, while I was still asleep - I’d answer some e-mails, she’d work on her laptop by my side and the silence was just as comfortable as all of our late night conversations.

She’d sneak out to the kitchen and come back with a few sandwiches for our lunch, and then the rest of the day would go by with us doing whatever mundane task we had in mind, together even if we were doing separate things, and I didn’t feel suffocated.

I didn’t even run out of things to say. By the time dinner rolled around and I followed her back to the kitchen, cleaning up the dishes while she fixed us dinner - I wasn’t allowed to cook in my own stove, mostly because she was terrified of my food but hid it under the excuse of that one time when I started a fire - then we’d eat together, watch a movie together, talk until we fell asleep - always together.

I was shocked. It’d never been this way in any of my previous relationships. In fact, I was certain it was the reason why they had never worked. I’d given up on any realistic expectation of settling down precisely because of this: I just never expected to find anyone with whom a day-to-day life wouldn’t eventually grow boring.

It’d been three months and I still loved to wake up to her coffee. We still fell asleep every night side by side, too tired to move into different beds because we had laughed our asses off after skyping Scott.

And now that sex came into play in our relationship? I just knew there was no way I’d ever go back to being nothing but friends - or living in a place where she wasn’t the first person I saw when I woke up.

It sucked that it took a pandemic and a night of alcohol to make me realize that, but damn, was I grateful that I decided to open a bottle of whiskey that evening.

I kept waiting for the catch, the moment it would all go to shit, but it never came. Our lives resumed to how they used to be, only now I had this ongoing inner battle to not just bend her over the nearest piece of furniture when we were busy, and the ability to do exactly that whenever there was nothing else to do.

And for a while it was bliss. There wasn’t a nagging voice inside my head questioning this arrangement because it was theoretically perfect. I had a best friend, a roommate and a fuck buddy, all wrapped into one single person that I adored.

Life couldn’t possibly get better - until I realized that I wanted more. Talks of lockdown being over started and she had plans of going back to her place, of course, but I couldn’t stand the thought of being away from her.

I wanted to see my family too, but I wanted to take her with me. Introduce her to my mom, see her get along with my sisters. Witness how she’d be with my nephews and nieces - I knew how much she loved kids. And that’s when it hit me.

I’d given my heart to her. Somewhere between the morning coffees and afternoon runs, the nights where I’d rant about all of my silly problems and she actually listened to them - really listened, never making me feel bad about what could only be described as rich people problems.

All the innocent little gestures, and the not so innocent ones - when I discovered she was exactly the nasty slut I’d always dreamed of, the way she would randomly drop to her knees and suck me off, even while I was on the phone. Most times she didn’t even let me repay the favor. She just genuinely liked to blow me.

She also liked to play with me randomly, like when we were watching a movie and she mindlessly reached for my crotch, rubbing me until I got hard. It almost always ended in sex, and I just loved it.

I loved it, and I loved her, and the idea of her ever sharing this idyllic lifestyle with anyone else made me irrationally jealous.

And that’s how I knew it. I didn’t want to mess it up. But how could I not fuck this up?

Xxx

“Chris…” Her sweet voice called out to me, reaching my ears while I was hiding in my office, trying to get my thoughts in order so I wouldn’t just randomly blurt out what I was feeling for my best friend to my best friend.

To her credit, she didn’t try to force me to keep her company - but that only made me fall even deeper for her, leaving me a complete and utter mess while she went about her day as if nothing was wrong in the world.

“Yes?” I looked up to see her by the threshold, clearly reticent about invading my privacy. It made me smile, thinking back on all of the times my exes hadn’t been as understanding, even after I let them clearly know what I was needing.

“I made cupcakes, do you want me to bring you one?” The thought of her in the kitchen, baking a sweet treat just for me had my cock twitching in my pants. Biting my lips, I pushed away from my desk to finally get up and stretch my legs, taking advantage of the monitor to hide my hard-on.

“No, I’ll come eat them downstairs with you.” She smiled before leaving, and I soon trailed after her, walking into the kitchen to find the most delicious-looking little treats, just waiting to be devoured.

Much like her, I supposed.

I was reaching for one of them, already licking my lips in anticipation when something caught my eye, prompting me to raise my gaze and look at her again, but really look at her this time.

She was wearing an apron.

There was nothing inherently sexual about the damn thing, but the way she looked with it, going about her business in my kitchen like she owned the place… It just felt right, seeing her there.

And suddenly I couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Y/N…” I started, leaving the cupcake back on the counter and brushing off the crumbs as I circled the kitchen island to go stand in front of her. She hummed before turning to meet me, smiling slightly to signal that she was listening to what I had to say.

But I didn’t know how to say it. So we just stood there, staring at each other until eventually her smile became a frown. “Chris, what’s going on?” I still couldn’t speak. Much to my absolute surprise though, she just sighed, wiping her hands on the apron while shaking her head, a knowing smile on her face.

“You’re stressed, aren’t you? You’ve been working so much, that’s why I thought the cupcakes would be a good idea,” she explained nodding towards the tray where her sweet treats laid. “They’re a reward and a break all wrapped in one delicious cake.”

The comment was like a punch to the stomach - or a scalding wave of desire rushing through my body, straight to my groin. The idea of her thinking about my needs and catering (quite literally) to them just did something to me, and I didn’t know how to explain it - I don’t think I understood it myself.

“But since they didn’t work…” she continued, blissfully unaware of the conundrum she had put me into. “I know something else that will definitely work.” And just like that, the woman dropped to her knees in front of me, reaching for my sweatpants before I could find a way to close the mouth that was hanging open.

“I guess I’ll grab a sweet treat for myself.” She looked so devious, small hand encircling my already pathetically engorged member, that all I could do was whisper an, “Oh, shit,” when she immediately wrapped her lips around it,  starting to suck me off without any preamble.

My fingers were white as I held onto the counter behind me to keep myself up. She looked so good, staring up at me with her lips wrapped around my dick, I felt like I was about to blow already.

Why did she have to be such a fucking tease?

“Oh, God,” I moaned when she managed to engulf the entirety of my member inside her throat, the choking noises getting to my head. My hand instinctively laced with her hair, first to hold her lips close to my navel, then to pry her completely off of my member.

“What’s wrong?” She questioned once she was able to speak, surprise written all over her features while I was still staring down at her slightly teary face and trying to find my voice.

“I-I have a problem.” There. I said it. I had finally made some progress in my goal to let her know what was going through my head. Only instead of curiosity, what I got was a confused expression from the woman still holding my dick, her eyes darting from my own to the member throbbing between her fingers.

“No, you don’t!” It would have been funny if I wasn’t so fucking frustrated. Yanking her by the hair, I complained, “Not that kind of problem!” pulling her to the living room so I could throw her on the couch, trying to ignore her moans of pleasure in the process.

I’d figured out pretty early on that she had a pretty serious hair-pulling kink, and if my plans of sitting down and having a level-headed conversation were ever in motion, they surely went out of the window the second she pulled my body down to cover hers and adjusted my cock so it would easily fill her.

“Son of a…” I groaned, letting my head fall down against her chest as the little vixen gleefully giggled underneath me, legs wrapped around my torso as she tried to thrust up and tempt me to move.

“Just wait a second,” I managed to reason, but she just shook her head.

“Fuck away your problem, Chris. Use me. I want you to.” Motherfucker. I really couldn’t catch a break with her. Just as she started to make me move again, my hand instinctively wrapped around her neck, lightly squeezing it just enough to get her to shut up.

“I wanna start a family with you,” I finally spilled, looking deep into her eyes as I tried to ignore that I was still balls deep inside of her. Her eyes widened, and now her mouth was the one hanging open.

I couldn’t really relish in it because she looked absolutely delicious and she felt stupidly heavenly to my throbbing dick.

A few seconds went by without as much of a reaction from her and I was about to pull out - despite still being achingly hard - but her legs held me tighter, stopping my plans of leaving her tight haven.

“You know…” She started to speak, a little out of breath, catching my attention as I finally gathered the courage to look her in the eye again. “When I first met you, I thought you were the epitome of a fuckboy.”

The unexpected sentence had me snorting, and then I just couldn’t stop laughing. Finally pulling away from her, she fixed her hair when she sat up and I did the same, shaking my head slightly as I rubbed my eyes.

Our own relative nakedness - well… mine, she was wearing her usual dress with no underwear under the damn apron - didn’t affect anything when I pondered over her words, until I decided to break the silence.

“I mean… I think I was?” She chewed on her bottom lip as she took in my response, analyzing it, weighing its validity in that gorgeous head of hers. I was nervous, but she hadn’t blew me off yet. And quite honestly? I’d do anything for that little hope that was growing inside of me.

“What changed?” Was her question, so unexpected I couldn’t help but question, “Huh?”

“What made you change?” It wasn’t an unwelcome inquiry, especially when the response became clear to me, lighting up my brain and warming my chest, spreading all over my body until I had no choice but to voice it.

“I realized I could have a future with you.” My smile was vulnerable but honest, and in her eyes, I could see that she knew that. When she threw one leg over my lap, straddling my hips, I allowed myself to breathe deeply again, leaning on the soft cushion while taking a hold of her ass.

“So, how are we gonna do this?” She non-nonchalantly asked, slowly rubbing herself against my still half-hard member. I groaned when I realized the implication of her words, knowing that the meaning paired with the feeling of her wet lips dragging along my cock would get it back up in no time at all. “You wanna do me right now?”

The brashness of the question made my eyes light up, as weird as it may sound. In that moment, it became clear just how perfect for me she really was, giving me what I needed exactly in the way I didn’t know how to ask for it.

“See? This is why I’m in love with you.” She rolled her eyes at that, making me laugh. I’d anticipated the gesture, I knew it’d take her longer to say it, but it was alright. The fact that she was willing me to give me a child was more than enough proof of her feelings for me, if her entire behavior ever since she moved in wasn’t already.

“Shut up and fuck me, Evans.” Throwing her back against the couch, she yelped in surprise when I took off my shirt and slapped the inside of her thigh, assuming my usual position of hovering over her smaller frame.

“Spread your fucking legs, darling. I’m gonna fuck you real good.” The way she bit her lip as I slowly penetrated her again showed me just how excited the prospect got her, and as I started to make good on my promise, her moans told me just as much.

“Holy fuck,” she commented as I pounded her ruthlessly, weeks of frustration and the rush of anticipation getting the best of me, and I was glad for the feeling of her nails biting into my skin because otherwise, I’d probably run over the edge of not even caring about her own pleasure as I chased mine.

“You gonna cum inside of me, honey? Make me a mom? Finally fulfill your dream of becoming a daddy?” Her words detracted me from my task of sucking bruises on the skin that was now mine to bruise, mine. I threw my head back, yelling a, “fuck yes,” as my hips sped up, desperate to fill her up, but I was determined to get her to cum before me.

“Say it,” she ordered, small hand circling my throat as best as she could, a throwback to what I’d done only moments prior. It wasn’t enough to choke me, but it did catch my attention. “I wanna hear you say it.”

Tears escaped the corners of my eyes as I blinked, the intensity of the moment overwhelming in the best of ways. “God, you are such a fucking tease…” She chuckled underneath me, giving my throat a squeeze before she raised up on her elbows to kiss my jaw.

“Better get used to it… daddy.” And just like that, I realized that I had yet another kink I hadn’t known about before her. Or maybe it was just her, and I was obsessed with the damn woman, painfully turned on by every little thing that she did.

“I’m gonna cum deep inside your little pussy, sweetheart,” I finally gathered myself enough to do as she asked me to. “You’re gonna belong to me forever now. Give me kids, make me happy. How do you like that?”

The mischievous grin she gave me told me everything. “I love it.” I knew this was her way of saying what she couldn’t yet voice, and I’d take it. I’d take anything she gave me, any chance I got to love this wonderful woman.

We came together, both riding our highs in deep ecstasy. I moaned when I felt myself empty all of my seed inside of her, incredibly excited about the prospect of starting our future together right then.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” I cradled her face in my hands as I struggled to catch my breath, but she turned it to the side and pressed a kiss to my palm and I was breathless all over again. It was such a simple action, why did it get to me so much?

“You’re not too bad yourself, Chris.” I didn’t want to part with her warmth, so I just adjusted us on the sofa in a way that kept me inside of her, sighing contently as I realized I’d never have to sleep away from her again.

“I’m gonna stay right here all night.” I adjusted myself so I was resting my face on her boobs, perfectly happy to do just so, but by the tone of her voice, I knew she had a teasing smile when she called me an, “Old man.”

“And here I was, thinking you’d be able to go again.” Warmth filled my chest at the realization of just how badly she wanted me - just as much as I wanted her too. I was so damn ecstatic. Not even her pokes at my age would be able to affect me.

“Oh, darling… better get ready,” I warned as I adjusted myself to hover over her again, taking notice of the excited glint in her eyes, the way she bit her lip as she stared back at me. “I’m never gonna get enough of you.”

The next morning, I added a new kink to the list of random bits of information that were driving me slowly insane as I felt the overwhelming need to bend the woman that I now got to call ‘mine’ over the nearest piece of furniture and rail her until I had cummed deep inside her pussy: seeing her in my shirt while cooking breakfast.

Yeah, I was going to live a happy life by her side.

[slightlyaboveaverageiq]

The Whisperer: Part 12 (Wally Clark Fic)

I felt his energy before I saw him or heard him. I continued reading my book without acknowledging him. Honestly he could wait a few minutes after what happened today. “Mo…” his voice sounded so lost and broken, but he did it to himself, he asked me to do something I told him weeks ago I had no intention of doing.

“We aren’t visiting yet Wally I’ve still got 6 pages in my chapter.” Before I could even do anything the book was launched across the room and Wally was straddling me. “Well now it’s even more time because I have to go back and find my-“ My speech was cut off by a very high pitched screeching noise that came from me horrifyingly enough. The stupid ghost was tickling me.

“I’m sorry I didn’t quite catch that you might have to try again.” He continued his brutal assault on my ribs and neck with me unsuccessfully trying to bat his hands away.

“O-okay you’re forgiven!” I finally get out grabbing his hands and trying to catch my breath while I gazed up at him to see his eyes a dark like before. I follow his line of sight and see that my sleep shirt has ridden up so he can see the black lacy thing underneath.

“I don’t know I kinda like you squirming and out of breath beneath me.” He muttered before leaving wet kisses in a line just above my underwear and along my thighs. What the hell man it’s like fucking whiplash. “Tell me about the accident” He managed to get out in between kisses on my body.

“Wally-“ I tried pushing his head away but he caught my hands and held them to my sides staring me down as he licked a long strip up my thigh to my hip making sure to leave a mark. This man may make me cum without ever actually touching my pussy.

“No, I’m going to keep doing this. I want you to tell me about the accident. Close your eyes.” I did as he said and focused on his fucking wonderful tongue dancing along my body wondering about how it would feel- “You’re not telling me the story, I’ll stop”

“I was 10, my brother Connor -the one I live with- was 24. He had flown in from Florida for Christmas and my parents and I were driving to the airport to pick him up. I was being a brat and screaming that I wanted a hot chocolate at the airport but my parents had both said it was too late and I would have to go to bed when we got home. My mom was trying to reason with me but I threw my book at her so my dad turned my head around for just a second…but that’s all it took. There was a drunk driver out that night, he hit us head on. It was so cold, and then there was this light. Not like the overly dramatic light that you see in movies but just kinda like I was walking into sunlight. My mom and dad were way ahead of me and I was running to catch up with them, that’s when I felt arms pick me up and I was looking at this man I didn’t know. He shook his head and he said that it wasn’t my time yet, that I still had so much work to do. And then I woke up and the EMTs were talking about how it was a miracle because I had been dead for 12 minutes. That wasn’t the last time I saw the man, he’s been back in my dreams every now and then since then, he explained I could see and talk to ghosts because I had technically died. I can also project, which means I can go into people’s dreams or visit their resting place but not for very long. So I mean yes I guess I could technically tell Maddie’s friends I know but it would be in a dream.” Wally moved so he face was hovering over mine and he kissed my forehead.

“I’m so sorry Mo, we should have never asked you to help Maddie. I never should have asked you to help Maddie.” Damn it he looked so fucking sad.

“Maybe I’ll be able to help Maddie one day, it’s just not a day in the foreseeable future.” He nodded and traced his finger down my face, neck, all the way down my body until he reached my thigh.

“You’re so pretty Mo, and such a good person even if you think you’re not.” He shifted just so and I could feel his cock staining against his pants on my thigh. “Do you want me to tell you a different story now?”

“I think I know the story, and considering how emotionally taxing this day has been it’s going to have to be another. You’ll spend the night with me though won’t you?” He smiled and nodded before spooning me from behind. “Hey Wally, just so you know I normally sleep naked.” Wally groaned and turned away from me.

“Jesus Christ Mo.”

[existslikepristin]

Please, No Virginity Puns

The most recent thing I posted before tumblr. It was on Choerry's birthday, and I am proud of that.

Tags: TheLounge, Loona, Choerry, male reader insert, it's her birthday!, 100% butt stuff, I ate a thesaurus

~~~~~

It didn’t matter what you had to say anymore. Choerry was already on top of you, nude and keeping you muted with her tongue. How did you get there?

Well, moments prior, you were sitting next to Choerry at your small dinner table. She’s always insisted on sitting as close to you as possible in order to enable near-constant snuggling. It’s gotten a little annoying here and there, but you can’t help but concede to her innocent demands whenever she smiles.

Of course, and not that you’ve ever complained about this, that’s not to say that her demands aren’t always entirely innocent. Most of the time they are, but not always.

That day, for example, you woke her up with breakfast in bed. It wasn’t tradition, but you were just getting her back for the last time she did it for you. And what better day to present her, prone, with a pancake, pulverized potato, and porridge parfait platter… with toppings… than her birthday?!

It can be hard to tell if Choerry is acting or not at times, but you’d like to think that her cartoonish level of enthusiasm for the treat was entirely real. She carried that sunshine throughout the rest of your day, skipping through the park, greeting everybody on the way to, inside, and on the way out of The Lounge, at the surprise party that you helped all of her members get her with, and when she dragged you to her room.

Not a drop of alcohol had touched her lips that night, so it was all the more surprising when she shoved you onto her bed and stated matter-of-factly-but-also-vaguely that she wanted you to put a thing in her butt. Her words came out of her mouth like shimmery soap bubbles.

You had to pause for a moment to process her words. You were certainly up for some sexy times with Choerry. You had anticipated it was going to happen when she put your hand down her pants near the end of the birthday party with no attempt at subtlety. But her exact word choices had you rubbing your temples out of exasperation, even as she stripped herself down to her ridiculously cherry red lingerie.

Your chance to admire that rare view was lost to history, however. She removed the lingerie from her body while she claimed your lips. Your disappointment at not getting the opportunity to remove it yourself quickly faded when she popped back up though.

Her breasts were as perky as her attitude, and also your dick. She was quick to notice the latter and made quick work of your clothes too. She sighed satisfactorily at the sight of your sword and stooped to supply it with a suck and some slickening slobber, so you suspected the sex was starting summarily; more swiftly than standard, it seemed.

Concerned for her well being, you made sure to ask if she had lube available. Again, you weren’t going to complain about her gusto, but she lacked the anal experience that some of your mutual friends had, at least you assumed. Sure enough, there was a bottle mere feet from her reach in her drawer. She grabbed it and jumped back on top of you, pouring it generously over her ass crack and your cock with surprising accuracy for someone so engaged with a hot and heavy kiss.

You were sure you had something to say on the matter. Perhaps some additional words of caution, maybe some other words of encouragement. It didn’t matter what you had to say anymore. Choerry was already on top of you, nude and keeping you muted with her tongue. How did you-- come back around to the exact same thought that the story began with?

“It’s okay, right?”

You attempted to blink away your stupefaction. “O-okay?”

“Mhm! For me to… you know!” She leaned in and whispered directly into your ear, “Put your penis in my butt.”

Ah, yes. The demand that you had nearly forgotten in her flurry of kisses, now slightly reworded to include your dick in the equation. “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Just checking!”

“We’ve… done this before.”

“I know!” Choerry swooped back in to continue kissing you, implying that she had no intention of expounding further. Her fingers wrapped around your cock, massaging the whole length to ensure that the lube had maximum coverage.

Your breath caught as you felt her readjusting you, tapping you around between her legs as she tried to match you up with her intended target purely via exploration. Your cock was ground between her ass cheeks, the tip slid over her clit, and dipped briefly into her pussy. A groan was the only complaint you could give to only being given a half second of her fantastic heat.

You didn’t have to wait long to get it back. Her ass opened up to the pressure she applied against it with your dick, but exceptionally slowly. Choerry released a series of little exclamations into your mouth as she pushed. She tossed the lube bottle to the side and snatched your hand, curling her fingers into your palm.

Finally, the last pop came, and was followed by a short slide. With no more manual guidance necessary, she grabbed your other hand as well, which promptly slipped out of her grip considering the amount of lube present.

Choerry released you from your kissy bliss to look at her slippery hand, a mixture of anger and amusement on her face. She tried a couple more times to hold your hand with it, but you liked this look. You easily slithered your hand out from under hers every time she slapped down. It was like watching a cat trying to catch a laser pointer.

It was just another reminder that no matter how deep inside Choerry you may physically be, she’ll never stop bringing a goofy-ass smile to your face.

Finally, you relented and entwined your fingers with hers, locking your knuckles together so you wouldn’t fall apart. She glared down into your eyes, but a grin still crept through. “Thank you,” she said, lips tight and nose scrunched up.

With you fully in her grasp, Choerry straightened herself up, allowing you the opportunity to look up and down her sublime figure. Though her movement caused her to cause you to penetrate her a bit further which caused her to flinch slightly, she kept herself aloft on her knees to not go too far all at once. She closed her eyes and took a series of deep breaths there, as calmly as if she was meditating.

As much as you wanted to go ham on her ham, you didn’t want to hurt her, so you contented yourself with watching her chest rise and fall. “Happy birthday…” you whispered.

“You’ve already told me that today,” Choerry intoned, eyes still closed like she was drifting off into her own little world.

You laughed. “I was saying it to myself! Have you seen you?”

She smiled again, and said three words in a voice that made it seem like she was speaking to an audience on the edge of their seats, “Okay, I’m ready.”

Her fingers constricted around yours, so you questioned if she was, in fact, ready. But you wouldn’t be the one to stop her.

Choerry’s tight tush trucked its way toward the top of your tower twice to tighten her take on the task at the time, before torturously trending testicle-ward. She temporized without taking your entire tool.

So hypnotized were you with her graceful movement that you didn’t even notice the frustrated moan coming up your throat until it was too late.

Her eyes popped open. “I’m sorry!” She sounded like she meant it, too. “This is… tough.”

“Take your time,” you said, straining your voice for comic effect.

“Could have used that four paragraphs ago,” she said, continuing her extremely slow descent down your shaft.

The odd statement distracted you just long enough for Choerry to finish her drop. No longer did space separate your pelvises. You grew concerned again when she winced and bit her lip from the inside.

“Choerry, we really can do something else. Don’t hurt yourself please.”

She gave you an exaggerated, indignant gander. “Rhetorical question: Who gets to choose the cake on her birthday?”

You held in your “cake” joke.

“It’s me,” Choerry’s voice was far too chipper to make this talking-to sound as stern as you were sure she wanted it to come across as. “As birthday lady, I get to pick the cake, and I get to feed it to you if I want to.”

You held in your “cake feeding” joke.

“And tonight, the cake I pick is my bum.”

You opened your mouth to comment on her most excellent selection of the word “bum” in the midst of a scenario where your cock is fully inside of said bum, but you instead gasped a sharp breath.

Choerry ground forward, pulling your dick with her and anointing the lowermost part of your stomach with the juices being lightly sprinkled from her clit.

“Besiiides,” she continued, re-angling her hands to she could tickle the backs of yours, “We have all the lube! Even some that’s got a certain special flavor to it!”

“Just some?”

“Yeah, ooh,” she crooned, apparently quite enjoying the grind back down your pelvis, “I didn’t get it all at once. Now guess the flavor!”

You waited for her grinding to pause again to be able to think straight, “Does it start with a ‘C?’”

Her smile grew. “Yes!”

“Is it a fruit?”

“Yes!”

“Is it… cherry?”

“Failure!”

“Wha--”

“It’s coconut!”

If you weren’t so established in your hand holding with Choerry, you’d have palmed your face. Thankfully, thoughts of how she could have possibly expected you to guess that were pushed to the back of your mind as she resumed her removal of your breath with a series of fanciful body rolls.

Finally fucking her fanny felt fictional. For while not the first foray there, far-fetched was the philosophy that it was fielded often, the front being the favored fornication fissure for the foreseeable future. Unless, of course, you could make this an especially special session.

But woe was unto you. Choerry had the upper hand(s) figuratively as well as literally. But, perhaps, you thought, this was exactly what she wanted and you could wait your damn turn to take control.

And you liked letting her anally probe herself this way, so, you know, what were you to do but enjoy the ride?

Over the course of her self-imposed ravaging, Choerry’s meditative breaths became ragged. Her eyelids fluttered at regular intervals. Through it all, she held her phantasmagorical demeanor. A couple of times she reached for the lube bottle and shotgunned it somewhat inaccurately between her legs, but it did the job. You were happy to see that she was still considering her own comfort.

In fact, to your surprise, her mouth opened wide in a silent shout. Her core trembled anticipatorily. Her hands held yours with a colossally increased lewdness. And those two mystical words trickled from her tongue with a high-pitched susurration, “I’m… cumming…”

Choerry’s grinding came to a grinding halt. Her body jerked and she fell onto you. Your cock sprang free of her ass in, and as a result of, the same motion.

You untangled one of your hands to stroke her back in the most adoring fashion you could muster. After chewing on a thesaurus for the prior hour, you were sure neither of you really needed any more words.

She stayed there for a spell, and you were happy to let her. It was so late it was nearly no longer her birthday, but her birthday it still was. She deserved the rest, along with the rest of your undivided attention.

Her whole movement consisted of her back going up and down as her lungs attempted to revive her fighting spirit, and her thumb lovingly shifting over the divinatory lines on your palm. You wished she would do something about her hair plastered on your chin, but ninety-nine percent of paradise is paradise enough.

You were disappointed when Choerry rose once more, slimily straddling your stomach. She detached her hands from yours to give the hair on either side of her face a good backward flick over her shoulders, and she sighed with contentment.

It was a shock to hear her speak again after such a prolonged reticence, but her unerringly cheerful voice was entirely welcome nonetheless.

“More please.”

You couldn’t then, and you still can’t help but concede to her innocent demands. Her smile just touched the corner of her lips. Sure, some of her demands aren’t so innocent, but… How did you get here again?

[welcometomy20s]

March 1, 2023

Um, somehow NicoNico got a bit of a resurgence, mostly because YouTube and Twitch have been falling flat lately, but also two songs reached the Hall of Myth, so this list is going to get a bit longer for the foreseeable future. I’m not sure if I’m happy or not.

#758 - Shadow Shadow (Azari) [Flower]

Achievement Date: 23-02-05, Upload Date: 21-09-27

The resurgent ‘blank’ composer has finally landed on this list with their second song. The song really sells itself with its personality, and I think it’s a good illustration of Azari’s work, although they kind of moved away from that with their later songs.

#759 - Rapunzel (n-buna) [Hatsune Miku]

Achievement Date: 23-02-09, Upload Date: 16-07-06

One of my favorite n-buna songs, actually. It is odd because it feels like this is one of n-buna’s more famous songs, but it took quite some time to reach a million. Yeah, honestly I could recommend this song as a n-buna starter, because it’s slow, but not achingly so… although the lyrics are achingly sad. It’s a nice combo.

#760 - Dilemma (DECO*27) [Hatsune Miku]

Achievement Date: 23-02-09, Upload Date: 22-03-09

I do love DECO*27, and I do like his Mannequin album, but this song… the lyrics are just way too cringe. But cringy breakup songs are DECO*27’s sweet spot, so I can’t help but say that this song is still good. Yeah, this has its place, I guess.

#761 - Closet Room (Riruo) [GUMI, Flower]

Achievement Date: 23-02-11, Upload Date: 21-04-24

This year’s Melody prize(?), as in this song got featured in NicoNico adverts and then well people went ahead and listened to it because it’s not a bad song this time! Hurray! Honestly, reminds me of people like Hayashida (that’s coming up later) / older Teniwoha / Yuukisan in that kind of speaking rhythm with sparse but loud instrumentation, but the GUMI/Flower makes it more modern… yeah, this is not a bad song.

#762 - Taste of Cockroach (MARETU) [Hatsune Miku]

Achievement Date: 23-02-11, Upload Date: 21-04-24

Maretu goes Vocarock, like Last Note? Well, it’s a bit different because it’s his song after basically a year and a half. The song is about bullying, you know forcing someone to eat a cockroach type of stuff? Yeah, there is a Slipknot at the end, by the way. Honestly, this is one of Maretu’s best work, and I think not a bad entry (or re-entry) into his work!

#763 - Moonwalk Fever (Hinata Denko) [Hatsune Miku]

Achievement Date: 23-02-18, Upload Date: 16-12-03

Finally Hinata Denko has their third song, their penultimate song. Huh, use of Moonlight Sonata in the beginning? Well, the rest of the song is your typical Hinata Denko work. You can’t go wrong with them, but it’s not anything special, just another superb song.

#764 - Bug (Kairiki Bear) [Kagamine Len, Nightcord at 25:00]

Achievement Date: 23-02-20, Upload Date: 22-08-24

Yes, the first ProSeca version to reach this list, and therefore I will exclude from actual analysis other than just remarking it’s a Len song! I think that’s a fun turn. 

#765 - Marshmary (MIMI) [Hatsune Miku]

Achievement Date: 23-02-22, Upload Date: 18-01-04

One of the latest female producers to make the scene, there have been many lovers but it took some time for the producer to make an appearance. This song is a good illustration of why people love her work, that light piano with a bright tuning and instrumentation that will make your spirits up while being comfy. 

#C-12 - Sekai-chan and Kafu-chan's Errand Song (Minami no Nami)[Kafu, Sekai, Kiritan]

Achievement Date: 23-02-25, Upload Date: 22-10-08

The song that got put into ProSeca instead of the Iyowa song, which is… good, since songs like these deserve to be in rhythm games. Minami no Nami makes ridiculously out there songs using CeVIO voices, and I really like them. It's worth a listen.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Night shift

Summary: Meeting Javier during one of your nightshifts at the hospital turned into falling in love with him. But working different shifts can be challenging, yet you somehow make it work.

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!reader

Wordcount: 2.5k

Warnings: mentions of gun wounds and blood, smut (Oral m+f receiving), dirty talk, domestic Javi

Masterlist

Taglist in reblog

You absolutely loathed working night shifts. It was one of the things you would love to live without. But when you took the job at the hospital in Bogotá, even if it was only for two years, you knew you wouldn’t have normal hours like back in the states.

You wanted to help when you came into this country. Even if it was only a little bit.

Of course it was a night shift that had changed your life almost 8 months ago. It had been a quiet night when a man had been rushed into the ER with a gun wound in his shoulder. You didn’t ask any questions as you rushed him to the OR, yet you remembered the crushed man that brought his friend in, his brown eyes pleading you to do everything you could for the injured man.

The man with the gun wound had been Steve Murphy and the man with the brown eyes was Javier Peña.

The same Javier Peña you were living with now after he just didn’t stop asking you out until you finally agreed. A tired smile came to your lips as you drove your car to the quiet streets of Bogota. It was close to 7 am and all you wanted to do is get to bed. Javi would most likely be already on his way to work. You didn’t see each other much with him working during the day and you during the night. But it was only two weeks. Yet you missed him. The intimacy of sleeping in his arms. You just slept better with him. Funny how quickly you could get used to a person.

The smell of coffee still lingered in the apartment as you walked in, letting your backpack fall to the ground next to the door. His shoes were still there so he had to be home. Getting out of your shoes you slowly walked into the apartment, a smile tugging to your tired lips as you saw him leaning over the small kitchen island, reading the newspaper. He was already dressed, just his jacket missing. You sighed and he turned his head to look at you with an equally tired smile.

“You look tired baby,” he said as you walked over. His arms came around you, pulling you close against him and you closed your eyes, inhaling his scent.

“It was a long night. I can’t wait for next weekend. Two whole days off,” you propped your chin up against his chest and he closed the distance, kissing you. You both groaned, his hands sneaking under your shirt, his tongue playing with yours.

Fuck you wanted him.

“You sure I can’t visit you tonight?” he groaned, kissing down your neck.

“No… Don’t want my colleagues to hear me having sex…” you whimpered, your hands pushing into the pockets of his pants on his ass.

“Just have to be quiet…” he grinned against your skin.

“Like that ever worked…” you chuckled, moaning loudly when he sucked on your pulse point on your neck.

“Well...” he grinned and you sighed.

“When do you have to leave?” you asked, already playing with his belt.

“I should already be out…

“You sure you don’t have a couple of minutes left?” you asked. One of his hands came to rest on your cheek, his other hand taking your other hand that had to start unbuttoning his shirt in his, stopping you from getting him undressed.

“I wish I had. But Steve’s probably already waiting. I miss you…” he kissed you again.

“I miss you too. But only a couple more days,” you smiled, letting yourself melt against him. A knock on the door made you both sigh.

“Only a couple more days,” he repeated, kissing you again before he untangled himself from you.

“There’s some coffee left and I made you a sandwich.”

“You’re too good to me, Javi,” you called after him.

“Only for you,” he called back before he turned around and you sighed when you heard the door click shut behind him. Filling your cup with coffee you opened the fridge, seeing the sandwich he made waiting for you. It was your favorite. Smiling to yourself you ate and then made your way to the bathroom to take a nice long shower.

Javi came home earlier that night, bringing some dinner. You were already dressed to leave for work as you sat down next to him on the sofa, letting him hand you a piece of pizza. His smile didn’t reach his eyes today. It was such a change to the man who left you in the morning. Something must have happened today. He was quiet, his hand seemingly using the glass of whiskey in his right hand as a lifeline while he silently chewed on the pizza. You hated to have to leave him when he was like that. Javier never talked about any details about his work with you, much like you didn’t tell him what happens at the hospital. You carefully set down your hand on his thigh, squeezing it lightly which made him look at you.

“I love you,” you said quietly, leaning in to kiss him softly. His eyes fluttered shut as he brought his forehead down against yours, breathing quietly. Setting his glass down, he brought his hand up to rest against your cheek. The pizza long forgotten, you kissed him again, his tongue parting your lips with ease. He helped you up so you could straddle his lap. His hands came to rest on your hips, pushing you closer against him, his lips on yours clinging to you.

“Let me take care of you Javi…” you whispered against his lips and he groaned.

“I want you…” he groaned, sucking your bottom lip in as his hands wandered, grabbing a handful of your ass.

“And you get me. For two long fucking days next weekend where we both won’t leave the apartment but right now I only have time to suck your cock, Javi…” you grinned against his lips and he cursed lowly.

“Let me make you feel good, baby…” you whispered, already letting yourself down to your knees in front of him. You could already see the hard outline of his cock through his ridiculously tight jeans, making you bite your lip. You brought one hand up, brushing over his bulge, hearing him groan. Making quick work of his belt and zipper you pushed his pants down.

He hissed when you pulled his cock out, looking down at you with wild eyes, his hand stroking your cheek as you bit your lip.

“I can’t wait to have you inside me again…” you whispered, kissing the tip of his cock, licking up the precum that already gathered there.

“I want you to fuck me until I can’t think about anything else than your cock…” you licked a stripe from base to the tip and he sighed, his hand wandering into your hair.

“But right now I want you to cum down my throat. Can you do this for me, baby?” you asked, parting your lips to suck on his tip.

“Fuck…” he groaned, closing his eyes only for a second before he watched you as you began to suck his cock. Taking him deeper and deeper until he hit the back of your throat.

“Fuck why are you so good at that?” he groaned and you chuckled, releasing him with a plop, your hand stroking him while you looked up at him.

“I met this guy a couple of months ago that has the most perfect cock I’ve ever had and I just can’t get enough of him.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, biting his lip.

“And I spend way more time than I like to admit thinking about his perfect fucking cock,” you smiled before you got back and took him between your lips, bobbing up and down faster. You didn’t have that much more time.

“Fuck I’m close…” he pulled at your hair, guiding your movements. You brought another hand down, massaging his balls and it didn’t even take more than a couple of seconds until he shot his load down your throat. Moaning as you sucked him off you ignored the throbbing between your legs. You were soaked just thinking about what he would to to you if you didn’t have to leave now. Making sure you didn’t waste one drop of his cum you released him, licking your lips before you smiled up at him.

“I have to go,” you said sighing.

“That was… Fuck I love you.”

“You only say that, because I just sucked your cock,” you teased, your hands on his thighs as you pushed yourself up to stand. Your knees were hurting, but it was worth every pain to see the look in Javi’s eyes. He reached for your hand, pulling you down to kiss you. He dipped his tongue inside your mouth, moaning as he tasted himself.

“I do love you. More than…” you silenced him with another kiss.

“I love you too. I’ll see you when I get home?”

“You bet,” he smiled.

“Sweet dreams, baby,” you kissed him again before you made your way out of the apartment to get to work.

The sun was already up when you got home the next morning. Groaning you let yourself fall to bed. Last night has been exhausting. You had your fair share of gun wounds ever since you arrived in Colombia but the amount of blood you saw last night would haunt your dreams in the foreseeable future. You sighed, your face buried in Javi’s pillow as you breathed his scent. You wanted nothing more but to feel his strong arms around you, but he was gone already, off to fight the sheer neverending Drug Lords of this fucking country. Sighing you pushed yourself up, shredding yourself out of your scrubs on your way to the bathroom. You needed a long hot shower before you would sleep the last night off.

You were about to doze off, not even caring to dress into your sleep shirt, which technically was one of Javi’s shirts when you heard the bedroom door crack open. You blinked your eyes open, looking into Javi’s. He was wearing a black button-down today, looking so fucking sexy. You would say his eyes looked like he was undressing you but you were already laying naked on the bed, so there was no need.

“Whatcha doing here so late Agent Peña?” you asked tiredly.

“Wanted to check on you. I heard what happened last night…” he walked over, sitting down on the bed, his warm hand coming down on your calf. You turned your head so you could look at him.

“I don’t wanna talk about it. I just wanna sleep but I can’t make my brain shut up…” you sighed, closing your eyes. You felt the bed dip until strong arms pressed your naked body against his, his lips kissing your forehead.

“I wish I could make it all stop and get us the fuck out of here,” he whispered. You fisted his shirt, closing your eyes.

“We could just leave. Live a happy little life in some shitty apartment.”

“House. I’m never gonna live in an apartment ever again,” he said.

“A house and a garden. And a pool cause living in Texas is too fucking exhausting if I don’t get to skinny dip in the pool once in a while.”

“Texas, huh?”

“You wanna be close to your Pa, don’t you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I want to. And I can’t wait to skinny dip with you,” you felt him smile against your temple.

“You be able to sleep until I get home?” he asked. You sighed.

“I’ll try,” you promised, but Javi wasn’t having any of that.

“I know how to make sure you’ll sleep,” he kissed your hair, pushing you softly down so you were laying on your back. Fluttering your eyes open you were about to protest when his arms around you disappeared when you felt him part your legs.

“Javi…” you sighed, feeling him kiss up your inner thighs. He was completely dressed, you could even see his gun on his belt and it made you shiver.

“Gonna make you feel so good you gonna sleep like stone, baby…” he whispered against your skin, bringing your legs up over your shoulder.

“Do not tease me Javier…” you were already so wet, you were every time when you were around him, and all you wanted was him to make you forget even for a tiny moment about the fucking world around you.

“Don’t have enough time to tease you…” he murmured before you felt his tongue lick a stripe through your folds, stopping at your clit, his tongue flickering over it.

“Always so fucking wet and delicious. Wish I had time to fuck this pussy…”

“Soon…” you whimpered, your hand fisting the bedsheet while your other hand came down to massage your tits. He sucked on your clit, flicking it with his tongue He was so fucking good at this, no wonder he had a reputation. Slowly he licked down, his tongue dipping into your pussy. One of his arms came up, massaging your other tit as you felt two fingers of his other hand entering you, his mouth back on your clit.

“Fuck Javi…” you cried out, arching your back.

“You like that?” he whispered, his mustache intensifying the sensation as he licked your pussy.

“Just like that…” you whimpered, rolling your hips. He angled his fingers inside of you, finding your spot with ease and you moaned lowly, your body jerking of the bed and he chuckled.

“Love it when you do that…” he grinned, sucking harshly on your clit while he moved his fingers inside of you in a circular motion. He pinched your nipple and you were overcome with emotions, tears running down your face.

“Cum for me baby…” he whispered and you shattered. Soaking his face with your arousal, your body shaking as he held you against the bed, letting you ride out your wave. He made sure to clean you off, making you pull away from him until he kissed your pussy tenderly, untangling your legs from above his shoulders. You looked up at him, love-struck and tired, an exhausted smile on your face. He sucked on his fingers, groaning as if it was the most delicious thing he ever tasted before he rounded the bed and leaned down to kiss you, tucking you under the covers.

“I’ll be here when you wake up later. Gonna work with Steve upstairs today,” he whispered.

You nodded sleepily, smiling at him.

“I love you Javi,” you whispered before you finally fell asleep.

“I love you too,” he whispered, kissing your forehead before he left you to sleep.

[featherthiefdean]

Dean and Cas are both having a bad week months after pulling Cas from the Empty. When they get stuck in the car during a rainstorm, Dean finally gets the courage to tell, or really show, Cas how he feels.

1.6K words

Read on AO3 here

Sometimes when it rains, it absolutely pours.

Dean was frustrated. Everything about this last week had gone about as wrong as wrong could go. Things fell apart when a witch, on what should have been routine hunt, tossed him around like a rag doll. She even managed to bust Sam’s shoulder by throwing him through a window not once but twice.

It got worse when Dean realized that the reason the hunt went sideways was because the spell hadn’t worked properly. Cas had sent a picture of the witch stopping spell to Dean’s phone but the picture had distorted and cut off the last ingredient necessary to make the spell work. You would think sending a picture from a magical bunker to the middle of nowhere Montana wouldn’t be too much for modern technology. Thankfully, Dean was able to reach his gun while the witch was busy tossing his brother. Two witch-killing bullets later, she was dead.

When Dean sent Cas a text saying they had to detour to the hospital to get Sam fixed up, Cas called him seconds later. The guilt that his phone malfunctioned caused Cas to lose it on the other end of the line and nothing Dean could say would calm the guy down.  Dean thought maybe Cas would feel better when Sam and Dean returned to the bunker and saw that they were fine but that turned into a whole other issue all together. Cas’s eyes went wide at the sight of Sam’s arm in a sling. Sam assured him it was just a bad sprain but Cas’s distress was clear. Cas’s final straw had been seeing the bruise forming along the left side of Dean’s face.

Cas raised his hand to touch the bruise almost like he was going to heal him. When Cas’s hands made contact, Dean unwittingly flinched from pain. Cas withdrew his hand quickly and silently. He went straight to his room without another spoken word. Dean knew that the photo mishap and the reminder that he could no longer heal them made Cas feel like a failure. Then, Dean flinching when Cas touched him probably sent the wrong message. Feelings of guilt overwhelmed the former angel and Cas hid in his room for the last six days. The inability to offer Cas comfort or reassurance left Dean feeling like a failure too.

Dean had tried to talk to Cas every time he emerged to use the bathroom or get some food but he was met with stony silence or passive aggressive comments. It had been two months since Cas’s last emotional episode and this one felt rougher than normal. When Claire called to ask them to cover a weird case she found while she worked a vampire nest with Jody, Dean ended up literally dragging the new human out of his room because Sam was benched for the foreseeable future. Cas protested going until Dean said that he needed backup. It was clear Cas didn’t want to be anywhere near Dean which only soured his mood further.

The icing on the shit cake was when the Impala ate one of Dean’s favorite Led Zeppelin tapes two hours into a ten-hour drive in the pouring rain.

Yeah, Dean was over this week.

By the time they pulled into the motel they would staying at, a pond had formed in the parking lot big enough to drown a rat from the Princess Bride and the rain seemed to be falling heavier every second. Dean shifted the Impala to park and shut off the engine but made no effort to get out of the car. He leaned forward to look out the windshield to see if there was any end in sight for the torrent of rain but they couldn’t be so lucky.

“Dean, what are you looking for?” Cas asked from the passenger seat as he mimicked the lean. It was the first time he had spoken in hours after talking on the phone with Sam. They had spoken about the case and the case only so Dean could focus on keeping them from hydroplaning off the backroads to the rundown town they were in now.

“I’m looking out for the T-Rex, can’t let it scoop us up before we’ve even had the chance to get dinner.”

Cas turned his entire body towards Dean at this statement. His pink lips parted into a small, confused O and bright blue eyes squinted at Dean in confusion. Dean wouldn’t chance opening Baby’s door with the falling rain but he would let himself drown in Cas’s eyes if given a chance.

“Jurassic Park, Cas. We watched the original last month when Jack stopped by for burgers. You spent the entire move talking about dinosaurs actually having feathers.”

“Oh. Yes, I remember now. ‘Life finds a way.’” Cas’s voiced slipped even lower while quoting the movie, the gravel in his voice even more pronounced. 

Cas went back to looking out the window and watched the rain pour down around them. Dean was free to stare at Cas more openly now. Cas had ditched the trench coat and suit not long after returning from the Empty. Dean never asked why. Now, he was in a blue hooded sweatshirt that brought out his eyes and a pair of well-worn jeans. There was a hint of stubble on his face and his hair was longer than normal. Dean took in all of Cas and felt a sharp pain of longing in his chest. Not a word had been said about “before” but Dean had been meaning to talk-

“We should probably head inside. I don’t think the rain is going to let up soon and I promised I would call Sam back when we arrived,” Cas said as he turned his focus back to Dean.

“Technically, you said you would call him back when we got into the motel room. We aren’t in the room yet.”

“You want me to avoid talking to Sam on a technicality?”

“No, I want to avoid getting soaked down to my underwear and then have to listen to Sam drone on about the lore.”

“Well, if we aren’t getting out of the car soon, what exactly would you like to do to pass the time?”

Dean could definitely think of a few things. He thought about leaning over and kissing Cas breathless while feeling the newly formed stubble beneath his fingertips. He thought about dragging Cas over the front seat while the rain hit the metal roof of the Impala and drowned out his moans. He thought about pulling off Cas’s sweatshirt first and then the former Metallica tee that Cas stole from Dean’s laundry the first week he was human as the windows begin to fog up. He thought about his hands tracing Cas’s-

“Dean, are you listening to me?”

“Buddy, I’m always listening to you.”

“Tell me what I just said.”

“I-uh-”

“Exactly, you never listen. Even before when I-” Cas trailed off and angrily watched the raindrops race down the window.

Dean’s heart broke a little more inside. His heart had shattered when Cas confessed his feelings before being taken by the Empty. The shattered pieces crumbled further when he realized the feelings he had been harboring for years towards his best friend were romantic. He loved Cas back. What little pieces that remained had been ground into dust when he thought he wouldn’t get the chance to say it back and he was too late.

When Cas came back, the pieces began to fit back together slowly yet he had never mentioned them again for fear of his heart being broken one last time. It might break him if Cas had changed his mind and he couldn’t risk it.

Dean slid closer to Cas and nudged him gently with his hand, “I listen, Cas. Always, at least to the important stuff anyway.”

“Really Dean? Because I don’t think you have ever taken anything I have said seriously. Not a single time, maybe when I was an angel but certainly not since I’ve become human.”

“Hey, yes I do. I just got distracted a minute ago-“

“No Dean, you don’t listen. It doesn’t matter what I say or how I say it. You don’t hear me. I don’t know why I’m even here.”

The anger had evaporated from Cas’s voice leaving him sounding tired and sad. Cas let his head roll back onto the soft vinyl seat and shut his eyes.

The elephant-sized weight of everything that had gone unsaid between the two of them was suffocating. The fear in his chest of voicing his own feelings were out gunned by his fear of losing Cas. This week was bad enough with Cas avoiding him, he couldn’t stand if Cas had the exact wrong opinion because of him. Cas thought Dean didn’t care. He thought he didn’t feel the same. The only problem with that was Dean had fallen more in love with Cas with every passing day.

“Cas, look at me.”

Cas let out a deep sigh before turning his head back to Dean. Blue eyes locked with green and Dean knew what he needed to do.

“Cas, I hear you and… I heard you. That Day.”

Dean leaned forward to capture Cas’s lips with his. He channeled everything he had been meaning to say since, well, forever into it. After a moment, Cas was kissing him back. Gentle compared to fierceness coming from Dean. The stubble underneath his fingers and the soft feeling of Cas’s lips sent Dean straight to Heaven.

A few minutes later and much too soon to Dean’s humble opinion, they broke apart.

“I love you too, Cas. Always have.”

Maybe the rain wasn’t drowning them after all, maybe it was washing the slate clean for the first time.

[zaffrenotes]

[TRR] Kairos

Kairos - Part 14

Pairing: Liam x OC Series Rating/Warnings: 18+; language; series will include ns*w 🍋 scenes Chapter Rating/Warnings: G Author’s Note: * All main characters belong to Pixelberry, I’m just borrowing them * Kairos (καιρός) is a word in Greek that translates to “the right time” or “the right moment to act” * Liam’s wife asks about “the one that got away” one night over dinner, and Liam recounts a relationship from his past * This is my submission for @wackydrabbles Prompt 101: Were you ever going to tell me? * Author’s Note 2: * a very late, hastily proofread update thanks to early neighborhood fireworks and turning myself into an emotional support human to my dog (who hates loud noises) * Word Count: 1377 (5 minutes reading time)

Catch up with previous chapters here

“London?!” Max exclaimed. “We were there for Fashion Week! Is that why you switched your assignment to go with me?”

“Yes,” Benigno replied. “I could have used personal leave to travel there on my own, but the timing worked out in my favor and accompanying you was less conspicuous.”

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Tears had begun to form in Max’s eyes, upon realizing she’d been in the same city as her sister.

“With respect to you Miss, no.” Benigno looked over to see Max’s chin quiver as she fought the urge to break down in front of Liam. “First I needed to see with my own eyes if it was really her, and when I saw her…she asked me to keep her whereabouts a secret, Miss Max.” He glanced over to Liam before turning to face Max again, frowning at his confession. “I’m only telling you now because you’ve put pieces together, and it’s clear King Liam cares about Miss Elia, or he wouldn’t have asked about her after all this time.”

“How were you able to track her down?” Liam inquired.

Benigno gave him a small shrug before answering. “It’s better not to know the details, but I called in a few favors.” He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small silver case, opening it to pull free a blank ivory card, before slipping the case back into his pocket. “May I?” he asked, reaching forward for one of the pens on the table. Liam nodded and Benigno wrote something on the back of the card; he leaned forward when he was done and returned the pen to the table, then stretched his hand forward, presenting the card to Liam. “If she’s still in London, this was her last known address from when I saw her.”

Liam glanced down at the address before tucking it into his pants pocket, nodding with solemn appreciation. “Thank you, Mr. Santos.” He looked over to see the eager expression on Max’s face. “I know by all accounts this ought to be handled by family, but it would raise suspicions if you weren’t present with the other suitors for all of the events.” The corners of Max’s lips turned down in a pout, though she nodded in agreement. “I’ll have to look at the schedule of events to see when I could slip away unnoticed, but I thank you both for your help tonight. You have no idea how much this means to me, to even have this small bit of information.”

-

A muted beam of sunlight filtered through the wispy curtains, and Liam stretched his arms above his head before rolling on his side to shut off the chirping melody from the alarm on his phone. After a cursory glance at the notifications that rolled in overnight, he placed a call to room service to order breakfast and took a shower. Once he’d eaten and dressed, he left the hotel and took to the streets of London, in search of the first woman who captured his heart.

Nearly an hour later, Liam stood across the street from a row of houses. He checked the pinned location on the map on his phone, breathing deeply to calm his nerves. With only a few feet separating him from his past and possible future, he slipped the phone into his pocket and crossed the street, making his way to the front door. His heart fluttered at the sight of the knocker on the door, in the shape of a brass peacock. Taking the ring in hand, he knocked it against the plate secured to the door and waited for someone inside to answer.

He wasn’t sure what to expect when the door opened, but seeing an older woman with greying hair and tortoiseshell spectacles was not on his list. She cracked the door open just wide enough to block the entry, wary of the unscheduled visitor standing on the doorstep. “May I help you?” she asked, eyeing Liam cautiously.

“Forgive the intrusion,” Liam replied. “My name is Liam Rys, and I’m looking for Miss Young. I was told she lives here.”

“She does…I’m Mrs. George, the caretaker. Do you have an appointment?”

“No ma’am. I’m a rather old friend of hers and I’m only in town for a day between business meetings. I was hoping to say hello, possibly catch up over lunch if she’s free.”

Mrs. George set her lips in a tense, dubious line. “I’m afraid the lady of the house isn’t here at the moment, and unscheduled visitors aren’t allowed in.” She craned her neck out towards Liam. “And if you’re truly a friend of Miss Young, you’d know how much she dislikes surprise guests.”

Liam sighed, his shoulders slumping in tandem as he exhaled. “Mrs. George, this may be the only opportunity I have to speak with her for the foreseeable future. I’m not certain when I’ll be able to travel to London again, or whether she’ll be here when that time comes.”

Mrs. George scrutinized Liam’s face, then let out the tiniest gasp as she straightened her posture in the doorway. “When did you see her last?”

“It’s been three, nearly four years, give or take a few weeks.”

Mrs. George continued to study Liam’s face for a moment, then nodded to herself. “I’m not at liberty to disclose her precise location, but Miss Young spends most mornings walking through Holland Park. You’ll likely find her there at this time of day.”

Liam’s face lit up with renewed hope, and he stepped forward, shaking hands with the kind woman. “Thank you, ma’am.” He turned and walked down the short path to the gate, waving to Mrs. George as she watched him from the front window. He wondered what could have prompted her to disclose even such a general location for Elia, perhaps unaware that she’d been living under the fake name Benigno had used on the passport given to her all those years ago.

It didn’t take Liam very long to reach one edge of Holland Park, though he had no idea where to start looking for Elia. With another deep breath to calm his nerves, he decided to begin his search by walking the perimeter and slowly working his way inwards, in hopes of crossing paths with Elia.

Forty minutes and countless steps later, the only thing Liam found was a thin sheen or perspiration across his brow as he balanced walking with purpose and blending in with others meandering through the park. He was strolling along one of the paths past a playground, when he heard the familiar screeching birdcall of a peacock; he laughed to himself, recalling the reserve on Kos and the trips he’d taken there with Elia.

Liam thought he might’ve been foolish to think he could find Elia in less than a day, when she’d spent nearly two years completely under the radar. She’d taken a risk in sending money to Benigno, and she’d trusted him more than anyone to keep her secret. She’d never bothered to reach out to Liam, even before he’d gotten married; he began to doubt whether she’d even want to see him now.

He was so lost in thought that he nearly collided with a small child pointing at a peacock a few yards away. “Mama, mama! Pfau! Pfau!” Liam dodged the little boy speaking German that stopped in the middle of the path to point. He smiled as he looked down to see the boy’s excited face, then froze in shock.

“Billy! Slow down, sweetheart!”

Liam’s heart seemed to stop, hearing Billy’s mother call out behind him. He knew that voice. Throat suddenly dry, he forced a cough and dared to turn around, eyes trained on the ground, too nervous to look the mother in the eye right away. She had on a pair of nondescript black leather ballet flats, black dress pants, and a cranberry cashmere sweater set. Her obsidian hair was swept up in a purposefully messy updo. She was just as beautiful as he remembered. When he caught her eye, he grinned softly at her, and her jaw slackened enough to let her mouth fall into a perfect O.

“Liam? Is that you?”